When the Dust Settled

by Jeannie Meekins

  Being so deep within their own territory, the Andromedan cruiser’s defences were slack. She was quick to respond to the threat, putting shields up and firing back before Giacomo could turn for another pass.

  “Go between them. They can’t fire the heavy stuff that close,” John instructed.

  Giacomo slipped between the cruiser and its nearest ally. He accidentally brushed against their shields and Bismarck was buffeted about between the two enemy ships. They nearly cannoned into a third fighter, which McReidy destroyed. Shrapnel sprayed the forward shields as they flew through it.

  “Damage report,” John demanded.

  “We’re fine, sir,” Red answered. “The cruiser’s lost her port engine shields.”

  John smiled. “Get us under her guard. Strip the whole port side.”

  Once under their defences, the cruiser was at John’s mercy, of which he had none. The shockwave of the explosion threw Bismarck clear. Her shields protected her from damage and Giacomo soon had her under control. She was far enough away for the fighters to attack without risking hitting their own ships.

  John was tempted to take the helm. He felt like a passenger in the vengeance the crew was taking. He also loved Giacomo’s instinctive flying. The pilot was doing better than any of his simulation results had indicated – although attacking a convoy single handed was not listed in any simulation.

  Gillespie’s scans found another viable target. A battleship whose weapon systems had been damaged so badly that she couldn’t fire back. Giacomo lured the fighters towards her, changing course at the last moment and skimming across the battleship’s shields.

  “How close was that?” John asked as he gripped the arms of his chair.

  “Scraping paint, sir,” Giacomo answered with a grin.

  “One fighter hit the shields. The other two pulled up,” Gillespie reported. “Battleship still intact.”

  Giacomo peeled off and turned for another run. Bismarck suddenly spun out of control as a direct hit sent her reeling.

  “What the –?” began John.

  “I don’t know where it came from,” Gillespie apologised.

  “Number four shield’s gone. Number three’s down to eighty percent,” Kowalski called.

  “Get them back up,” John ordered.

  The intercom was silent for a moment. Frantic voices rocketed around engineering as comments and supposition flew between the engineers before Kowalski announced, “The shields are draining power from the engines. Another hit and we’re history.”

  “Weapons here, we’re running low on torpedoes. Phaser banks are down to ninety,” Wright advised.

  “Noted, Mister Wright.”

  John should have turned and run. He knew that. But he wasn’t satisfied with just the cruiser. He wanted to take out the battleship as well.

  “Giacomo, take us in for another pass.”

  McReidy turned on him. “I strongly suggest we get out of here.”

  “When I want your suggestions, I’ll ask for them.”

  “You’ll get us all killed!”

  “I haven’t got time to argue. And neither have you.” He indicated the screen. The battleship covered it completely. “Get us as close as you can and fire everything we’ve got… Then get us out of here at maximum speed.”

  They didn’t stay around long enough to find out the extent of damage they had inflicted, if any. A cruiser had broken off from the main fleet to intercept them. John had spotted it while McReidy argued. Gillespie confirmed it. They barely had time to fire before they ran.

  The cruiser was closing in. Giacomo had enough distance to outmanoeuvre her weapons, but not for long. A few defiant phaser blasts were fired back; torpedoes were already exhausted. Nothing even scratched the surface as the cruiser ploughed on ahead.

  “I need more power,” John told Kowalski.

  “There isn’t any. The engines are tapped to the limit.”

  “I need more speed.” John thought for a moment. “Drop the shields.”

  With the power needed to maintain shields now being accessed, the ship’s speed increased slightly. Enough to keep the cruiser at bay. For the time being anyway.

  “What’s ahead of us?” John asked Giacomo.

  “Nothing.”

  “Good. Keep going.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until that cruiser turns back.”

  “Or we blow ourselves up.” McReidy ground out, her voice clearly overheard by everyone.

  John was sitting on the edge of his seat, one elbow on the armrest, his chin resting on the back of his fingers. “Did you say something, McReidy!” The low tone challenged her to answer.

  “Yes, I did.”

  She turned defiantly to face his challenge. His face was set, his eyes narrowed as they pierced through her.

  “You shouldn’t have made another pass at that battleship.”

  “Oh, really?” His brows lifted slightly with the sarcastic lightness of his tone, then flattened.

  “We were quite happy with the cruiser and some fighters.”

  ‘We’ meant the entire crew, but they were quickly disassociating themselves from her. She could take the blame for her own words. No one handled his temper as skilfully as she was doing.

  “There was no need to risk it without full shields. Any of those fighters could have picked us off.”

  “That was my decision.” His hand dropped, his head didn’t move. She wouldn’t back down. Why wouldn’t she back down? She defied him at every opportunity, stirring up emotions he wanted left buried. “And when you get your own ship, then you can give your own orders.”

  “And when they scrape up a captain, you won’t have this ship any more!”

  That hurt.

  The crew flinched; Giacomo mouthing a couple of choice words, Gillespie and Tan shared a momentary glance to the unfolding scenario before turning back to their consoles.

  McReidy saw the sudden pain in John’s eyes before he lowered them. He closed them briefly, swallowing hard, every muscle in his body tensed to its fullest extreme. All she could do was watch him and wait for the answer she knew was coming.

  He lifted his head slowly. His dark eyes burned through her with a fury he had never felt before. In a cold voice that held no emotion he told her: “You’re relieved of duty… Get off my bridge!”

  He couldn’t have hit her harder if he had physically struck her – and he was sorely tempted to do so. She accepted his sentence because she had no other recourse, and stormed silently from the bridge.

  Gillespie tapped Tan on the arm and pointed to both consoles. Tan nodded and Gillespie slipped into the empty navigation seat. Giacomo flexed his hands and adjusted his grip on the controls, his frozen attention never wavering from the main screen.

  The bridge was silent for hours. The ship raced on, followed by the cruiser. It couldn’t close the distance, neither could Bismarck outrun it. The shift drew to an end, however no one was willing to mention it. They remained at their positions, fearing to break the spell that had been cast.

  The new shift hovered inside the bridge doorway. Looks were exchanged between them, but the tension kept them silent where they were.

  John decided to wait and see how long it took. An hour passed; then another. It seemed they would remain there all night.

  “Giacomo.”

  The pilot leapt out of his seat at John’s voice. “Sir?”

  “I want those rosters changed by morning.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, all of you, get out of here.”

  * * *

  When Tan reported for work the next morning, John called him into his office. Tan tensed, his posture straightening formally as he crossed the bridge.

  John relaxed into his chair as the door closed. Tan stood in front of the desk.

  “Relax, Mister Tan. You’re not in trouble.”

  Tan remained standing, but his tension eased.

  “We’re fighting blind, Mister Tan. We can’t rel
y on secondhand information.” John hesitated, knowing he was about to ask the impossible. “I need you to crack the Andromedan code.”

  “Sir?” Tan’s face screwed up and his head dropped, causing his body to slump in despair.

  “I know we don’t have a language, but a code should be easier.”

  Tan’s expression indicated the opposite. He looked to the chair by the wall, dragged it up and dropped into it.

  “Codes are specific messages that don’t use an entire language,” John continued. “We’ve been eavesdropping for a while and we’ve recorded lots of messages. We know by their actions what some of them mean.”

  “We don’t know what’s directed at what ship, sir, so we don’t know who’s acting on what message.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You want me to backtrack and match everything up.”

  John noted that Tan didn’t use the word “try”. That showed his intent to succeed, not just to attempt.

  John nodded. “I want you to work with Lieutenant Spencer. She’s fluent in four languages and familiar with a few more. Take as much time as you need. This is your number one priority and you’re off the bridge until it’s done.”

  Tan’s face fell. He lowered his eyes and closed them momentarily.

  “Don’t think of this as a penalty.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The sombre tone indicated he considered it was.

  “There’s no one else on this ship who has the ability to crack it. If Command or our allies had been able to do so, we’d know what we’re walking into. But they haven’t and we don’t.”

  Tan let out a breath and looked up. “When do you want me to start, sir?”

  “Now.”

  “That cruiser is still on our tail and…” He hesitated, gauging John’s response and deciding against continuing.

  “We’ll manage.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  * * *

  For two days, the cruiser relentlessly pursued the little ship. Giacomo and Gillespie were the only ones John was willing to entrust the ship to in his absence from the bridge. Engineering was worried about the engines overheating. They couldn’t maintain this speed indefinitely. Without a chance to cool down, they were going to explode. The cruiser, it seemed, was in similar difficulties. With her extra bulk, the strain on her engines must have been incredible. Without warning, she suddenly broke off her pursuit… and disappeared.

  John could relax at last. He didn’t know why the cruiser broke away, and he didn’t care. He slowed the ship to a sensible speed, allowing maintenance crews to repair any damage they had sustained.

  It was peaceful without McReidy on the bridge. Orders were obeyed without question. Everything ran smoothly; the way it was supposed to. And yet, it was different. Almost too quiet.

  John had gotten used to having her around, having her constantly under his feet at every step. She had a smile that could warm him, and a glare that could chill. Occasionally, she brought out his best; more often, it was his worst. If only she wouldn’t defy him at every chance. And that, he remembered as he sat at the desk in his quarters that night, was why he had thrown her off the bridge.

  The beep at the door interrupted his thoughts.

  “Come in,” he called, flicking a switch on his desk to unlock the door.

  Gillespie entered, glanced around to see where John was and casually strolled towards the desk. He took in John’s mood in an instant – calm, but ready to blow.

  John shoved the chair nearest him with his foot, propelling it across the floor to Gillespie. “I was wondering when you’d turn up.”

  Gillespie stopped the chair in his hands. He took off his insignia, looking at it briefly before tossing it onto the desk. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

  John watched the insignia bounce and settle. Off the record and no consequences.

  “Granted.” He spun his chair to the side slightly, allowing him to slide his feet onto the desk. Spying a dirty spot on one boot, he rubbed it against the back of his leg, then replaced it on the desk as he spoke. “If you’ve come to plead McReidy’s case, forget it.”

  “Actually, I came here to talk some sense into you. But I don’t think that’s ever been achieved in your entire life.”

  At least he was getting straight to the point.

  “But since you brought it up…” Gillespie took the opening that was offered. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit rough?”

  John glared. “I will not be second guessed on the bridge. I can’t afford to be wrong, or undermined.”

  “If I had said it, you would have knocked me down and it would have been over.”

  “If you had said it, you would still be in sick bay! And don’t think I wasn’t severely tempted.” A flicker of anger rekindled in his eyes. He would never admit how close he had been to physically striking McReidy.

  “No, you couldn’t hit a woman. So you did the worst thing you possibly could to her.”

  “She asked for it.” There was no sign of regret.

  Gillespie sighed heavily, changing tack. “What happened to the young guy who pinched Magellan and blew up Betelgeuse, believing people were more important than red tape?”

  A flicker of remembrance lit up John’s eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared.

  “He grew up,” John answered solemnly.

  “I don’t think so. He was still there at Tricon. In fact…” Gillespie paused thoughtfully. “You haven’t been the same since Ark Royal was lost.”

  That was too much for John. He was on his feet immediately and leaning over the desk. He supported his weight on straight arms, his hands in clenched fists. “You’re way out of line!”

  “Am I?” Gillespie leaned forward matching John’s pose. He was completely calm. “I think I’m just scratching the surface.”

  “Do you want to be relieved of duty?”

  It was more a warning than a question, to which Gillespie paid no heed.

  “You gave me permission to speak freely.”

  John relented. A low growl emanated as he pushed off the desk.

  “We’ve all lost people.” Gillespie had control of the conversation. Now, it was his turn to bully. “Get over it.”

  “I can’t.”

  John couldn’t hide the pain the words dragged out. It was tearing him apart. A rage that he had never released and one that McReidy, as a woman, had unconsciously tapped.

  “Then accept it.”

  John’s head shook slowly. “I’ll never accept that she’s gone.” He didn’t know how the words came out clearly, his voice faltered on every syllable.

  “So that’s what this is all about.” Gillespie spoke almost to himself.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Why we’re kitted out. Why you’ve been pushing the crew so hard. There’s nothing defensive about it. You’ve been turning this ship into a battleship. You’re out for revenge.” He turned away, one hand raised to his brow, and paced the length of the desk and back again as his own words sank in. “Snap out of it before you get us all killed!”

  “I can’t sit around the back blocks watching someone else do what I should be doing.”

  Gillespie met the immovable brick wall. He backed off, softening as he took a breath. “I can’t talk you out of it, can I?”

  “No. But I’ve no intention of dying yet. The crew’s pulling together nicely. They’re inexperienced and they’re going to make mistakes. That’s why I can’t afford to be wrong.”

  Gillespie shook his head slowly and swore under his breath as he accepted the inevitability of John’s motives. “Giacomo flies like you.”

  John smiled for the first time at the unspoken agreement they had reached. With nothing more to say, Gillespie reached for his insignia and put it back on as he turned to leave. He was almost at the door when John spoke again.

  “Hey, Steve.” His voice was quiet, the tone informal.

  Gillespie turned around.

/>   “You still playing tonight?”

  “Mondays and Thursdays. Regular as clockwork… You know you’re always welcome to join us.”

  Gillespie’s poker games were something that John had missed after leaving Magellan. It was not so much the game as the socialising it provided. It enabled him to keep contact with the crew, picking up on little problems before they grew into larger ones, bridging the huge gap between captain and crew. Now, he found he had little time. He had full responsibility of the ship, but he didn’t want to lose that vital link with the crew.

  * * *

  The next morning saw no improvement in their situation. Bismarck was way off course and running slow. John had faith in his engineers to fix her, but the extent of damage was only just starting to come in now that they were at a sensible speed. Red baulked at John’s suggestion of switching some systems off to conserve power as he had doubts whether they’d come back online again.

  “We’ll manage, sir,” he insisted. “And we’ll try and get you back on schedule.”

  “Don’t worry about the schedule,” John told him. “Look after the ship.”

  Helping out the fleet had only caused a minor time loss that they could easily make up. Going back for the convoy and those subsequent results was going to put them nearly a week behind. That kind of delay was something John was not looking forward to telling the admiral. And, if the next few worlds they had to visit weren’t expecting them – as Lushon hadn’t – maybe he wouldn’t have to.

  With the ship a good fortnight away from its next destination, John skimmed through the upcoming protocols. It just seemed like too much hard work.

  He looked up. Hartford was adequate at navigation in McReidy’s absence and Giacomo had rostered Lynn to cover navigation for night shift. Under any other circumstances, the cartographer would have been pleased. As it was, she avoided eye contact with John from the moment he arrived in the mornings and barely seemed to breathe again until she left the bridge with the rest of the night shift.

  The bridge was quiet, but the tension was there. They were all on eggshells; no one willing to risk his mood. That was fine by him.