When the Dust Settled

by Jeannie Meekins

  “Why don’t you go and find the others,” he suggested quietly. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  She nodded slowly, tiredly.

  “Refreshments are available, and my offer to dine still stands,” Cush told her, then hesitated. “Kanmay will meet you inside and attend to your needs.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Your officers are loyal,” Cush spoke quietly when she was out of earshot. “It was not easy to discover what they were hiding.”

  “Keep away from her,” John warned. He recognised the implication and wondered how deeply Cush had managed to penetrate into McReidy’s thoughts.

  “You are very protective,” Cush observed.

  It was John’s nature; he couldn’t deny it. “Of all of them. Now, are we going to finish these negotiations?”

  “Inside. It’s becoming quite chilly out here.”

  The sun had set. It was a deep twilight; a chill in the air was beginning to set in. The heated atmosphere between the two men would not be enough to prevent this for too long. They went back inside and proceeded to the boardroom where negotiations had taken place earlier.

  The empty chairs were lined neatly against the table. An advisor was already waiting with the papers. Cush took his seat. The papers were placed on the table in front of him. He didn’t look at them.

  “Some adjustments,” Cush explained.

  John graciously took the papers handed to him. He sat down and read through them carefully, skipping the first page, which merely outlined the original proposal. He was impressed with the way McReidy had handled things. There were a few conditions where he thought she had given in too easily, others where she had pushed the advantage further than he might have dared.

  All in all it was a neat agreement, extremely beneficial to all concerned. They had spent hours discussing it previously: she knew it as well as he did, probably better.

  Cush used every opportunity to find a way into John’s head. He had no great interest in any business discussions, taunting John with questions that became personal. Anything to throw him off guard and break down his defences.

  John met the invasion with open hostility and returned it with a contemptuous glare. The verbal confrontation was getting out of hand. John felt what McReidy must have been going through all afternoon. Finally, he had had enough.

  “If you’re just going to sit here and waste my time,” John struggled to keep his voice even, his eyes blazed, “then we can end this right now and I’ll take the original proposal to Sarracan. They have a moon in a position every bit as advantageous as yours.”

  He resisted the temptation to rise to his feet and attempt to stare down Cush.

  “You’re bluffing!” Cush would not be intimidated by the threat. Even so, there was a slight doubt in his voice.

  “You don’t know that!” John smirked.

  He was too relaxed and confident for Cush’s liking. Cush had no way of knowing if he spoke truthfully. The realisation of all the benefits that could be lost was visibly upsetting.

  John saw this. It all made sense. “That’s what this whole thing is all about, isn’t it? Control. You have to be in control of everyone and everything at all times. And right now, you can’t stand the fact that you’re not. That you have no control over me.”

  The shaken look on Cush’s face told him he was right. He took full advantage of the moment, his voice filled with confidence.

  “It’s fine when you’re dealing with someone like McReidy. You can poke around until you find the truth. Unfortunately for you, she has no hidden agenda. The only thing she was hiding is the fact that we can’t stand each other. But you still couldn’t leave her alone.”

  There was as much contempt for Cush’s reasons as there was for his methods. He sympathised with McReidy, he should never have put her in that position.

  “When it comes to someone like me, you’re back on even ground. There is no advantage. Now, we have three conditions left. Are we going to finish this now or do I have to go to Sarracan?”

  “I have nothing against the last three conditions!” Cush roared. He was as upset with himself as he was with John.

  “Good! Then sign the papers,” John fired back quickly before he could change his mind. He withdrew a pen from his jacket pocket, leaned across the table and offered it to Cush.

  For a moment, Cush hesitated, glaring at John. He made no impression on the determined brown eyes that stared back. He snatched the pen and hurriedly signed all relevant copies.

  John smiled to himself, retrieved the pen when it was tossed back towards him, and calmly began signing. The agreement was formalised. It now needed to be returned to Command, where an officially sealed copy would be forwarded to Cush as confirmation.

  The silence was thick between them. John had nothing more to say. He knew he had said too much. He couldn’t take any of it back and he wasn’t going to apologise for being right. He slipped his pen back into his pocket and retrieved his copy of the papers, daring Cush to break the silence.

  Cush knew he had to, for his own peace of mind. “You would have let your lieutenant commander sign these papers?”

  “She has the authority in my absence.” John turned the papers along one edge, neatly flattening the bits that stuck out until they appeared as one. “It could all have been achieved without this unpleasantness.” He carefully insinuated his innocence.

  Cush changed the subject. “Your Lieutenant Gillespie interests me… What is poker?”

  John couldn’t hide the small grin. Gillespie’s one track mind was obvious to anyone who was not a telepath.

  “A game you wouldn’t have the patience to appreciate.” He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by a moment’s lightness. “I think it would be best for all concerned if I returned to my ship.”

  Cush silently agreed. “Your officers are under no such obligation. They may remain for the evening as earlier planned… They will not be scanned.”

  “Thank you.” There was no reason not to be polite. “Madison to Bismarck, ready to transport.”

  John’s first priority was to file the documents. After that, he returned to the bridge. Humphries was in his chair; his head resting across its back, his eyes closed and his mouth open slightly. He was asleep. John hadn’t meant to leave him that long. He had already pulled a double shift and with the lack of activity currently on the bridge, he had nodded off.

  It was tempting to wake him suddenly, to remind him where he was and what his duties were. John didn’t have the heart to do that. Especially when the rest of the crew were unaware.

  John stepped quietly to his chair and leaned towards Humphries’ ear. He whispered softly. Humphries stirred, his eyes remained closed for a moment, then shot open.

  “Ssh,” John warned before he embarrassed himself and alerted the crew to his state. “Go and get some sleep.”

  Humphries’ head twisted around to see John properly. A kink in his neck locked. He tensed, then relaxed as John’s face showed no anger.

  “Yes, sir,” he whispered hoarsely, his throat dry. He slid out of the chair and tried his best to walk in a straight line. He was still half asleep and swayed slightly.

  John smiled to himself as he sat down. Humphries was a good kid. He had thought that for a long time. Sometimes he needed to remind himself where his priorities lay.

  Back to top

  Chapter sixteen

  McReidy and Gillespie were completely exhausted by the time they returned to Bismarck. Giacomo had never been comfortable at social events. Dunlop was the only one who appeared bright, although the day’s events were beginning to tell. He was fascinated by the medical facilities.

  The power the mind held over the body was incredible. He had witnessed an operation during which the patient remained completely conscious without the aid of painkillers. A child had been brought in unconscious. By tapping his most recent thoughts, it was discovered he had swallowed poison.

  Dunlop was excitedly telling
the others all about his day as they walked along the corridor from the transporter room. No one was interested. Not at the moment anyway.

  McReidy turned in exasperation to Gillespie. He took the hint.

  “Look, Doc,” he interrupted. “Not now. Tomorrow… I’ll listen to anything you want to tell me tomorrow… Right now, I’ve got this huge headache.” His hands rose to his head in an exaggerated outline of how he felt.

  “I’ve got something for that,” Dunlop offered.

  “No. I’d rather sleep if off.”

  “About time you lot turned up.” Kowalski was leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

  “What do you want?” Gillespie asked, suddenly realising they were outside his quarters.

  Kowalski seemed to be the only one aware of what day it was. After a quick discussion, which didn’t include him, it was mutually decided to cancel the evening’s game.

  “That’s not fair,” he objected. “I’ve just finished working out a new strategy to beat the lot of you.”

  “Sam… Shut up.”

  For some reason, he was not willing to argue with McReidy. Instead, he sulked. “Well, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the evening?”

  “Whatever it is you do every other night of the week,” she threw back at him.

  “Problem?” John asked as he joined them.

  “They don’t want to play tonight,” Kowalski explained, hoping to receive some sympathy.

  “A sound decision under the circumstances.”

  Kowalski opened his mouth to object.

  “If you want something to do, why don’t you go and look after the bridge for me for a while.”

  “But I’m off duty,” Kowalski complained. He didn’t get on the bridge as much as he wanted. He also didn’t want to sacrifice his own time to do so.

  “I was not asking, Mister Kowalski.” The dark eyes matched the tone and there was no arguing with either.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “He’s just bored,” John explained. “Remind me to send him down to the surface next time.” The comment was directed towards McReidy. “And unless the rest of you intend keeping the entire ship awake, I suggest you retire for the evening. I will see you in the morning.”

  * * *

  McReidy couldn’t settle. She was tired, exhausted, but her eyes couldn’t stay closed. Nothing could keep her occupied and she found herself continually pacing around her quarters. She found herself in front of the bookshelf. Maybe if she took a book to bed. Skimming through the titles, there was nothing that particularly interested her.

  An early night might work; she would feel better in the morning. The bedside clock revealed that it wasn’t that early. Lying in the dark only made things worse. She tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. She was hot, and threw the blanket off, only to retrieve it a few minutes later. The pillow was getting the beating she knew someone deserved.

  The clock’s luminous digits gave the only light to the room. She blamed it for keeping her awake and turned its face away, turning it back a few moments later to check the time.

  She sat up in frustration, thumping her fists on the bed beside her. She was too wide awake to sleep; she had to do something. She looked at the clock. It was before midnight. John would still be awake, probably working. He never went to sleep before midnight. She dressed quickly. A few minutes later she found herself beeping his door.

  He didn’t take long to answer, confirming the fact that he was still awake. There was none of the seriousness that normally showed on his face when he was working. His collar was loosened, his jacket partially undone.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” McReidy explained. “I thought you might have some work to finish…” Her voice faded off slightly.

  “No, I finished everything before you came back from the surface.”

  “Oh… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

  As she turned to go, he placed a hand on her arm. “Wait.”

  His voice was soft and comforting. He could tell she was lost, her eyes slightly glazed, her voice was as far away as her thoughts.

  “If you want to come in we could… talk, or something.”

  He felt a little uneasy about the situation. Talking was something neither of them were particularly good at – fighting, arguing, discussing, they were no problem. He sensed her need to be with someone.

  “Thanks.” She stepped past him and strolled casually into the room.

  He followed her with his eyes, his fingers automatically flicking the door controls closed. Now what was he going to do with her?

  “Would you like a drink?” The icebreaker would give him a few minutes to think of something.

  “Not coffee,” she answered shaking her head. “Anything except coffee. I don’t need anything else to keep me awake.”

  “Betelian wine?” he suggested cheekily, receiving the response he expected from such a suggestion. He quickly found two glasses and a bottle of rum. “Sit –”

  She already had.

  “Down,” he finished.

  She made herself quite comfortable on his lounge, he noticed. He put one glass down on the coffee table and poured a small amount in the other.

  “I’ve got Coke if you like, but I haven’t got any lemon,” he offered, recalling her preference.

  “Thanks.”

  “I should also warn you that I don’t keep a supply of straws.” He was making the effort to keep the mood light.

  “I think I can manage without one,” she smiled, appreciating his effort. She took the drink and sipped slowly, closing her eyes for a moment in contentment.

  He poured himself straight rum and sat down beside her – not too close. Before she arrived he’d been sprawled comfortably across the lounge.

  The silence between them became tense. He was not good at this. He needed a distraction. “Gillespie got me a copy of the World Cup, if you want to watch it.”

  “What? Soccer… rugby…?” Her tone remained as neutral as her mood.

  “Cricket.”

  “Oh… Who’s playing?”

  “Australia and Sri Lanka.”

  “I’ve never been able to fully get into cricket.”

  “That’s probably because you’ve tried watching tests. Ever seen a one day game?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I wouldn’t mind, as long as you explained some of the rules.”

  John turned the console on. The disk was already in. It continued from where had been watching earlier. He made himself comfortable, his feet slipped onto the coffee table.

  “Get your feet off the table,” McReidy told him.

  “It’s my table,” he answered back. It was his table, his quarters – he would do as he liked.

  McReidy was surprisingly interested in the game. John explained the subtleties in the rules as they cropped up. He was relaxed; he let his guard down. She seemed to be enjoying his company and he wouldn’t admit he was enjoying hers. They began talking more freely, the long silences between becoming more comfortable.

  *

  It had been quiet for a while. John felt McReidy’s head on his shoulder. It slowly began to feel heavier. He shifted slightly. She snuggled in closer and relaxed completely.

  He carefully took the empty glass from her hand. Leaning as far forward as he dared, he couldn’t reach the coffee table without disturbing her. Instead, he swung his arm over the side of the lounge and placed the glass on the floor.

  There were fourteen overs left to play – a little under an hour. For the time being, he was comfortable. After a day with Cush, her mind needed the rest, and he didn’t have the heart to disturb her.

  At the conclusion of the innings, he flicked the screen off. He leaned forward and gently tossed the remote onto the table. If he didn’t put it there, he knew he wouldn’t be able to find it again.

  He turned his attention to McReidy. Her hair had fallen over her face and he gently brushed it away. Her head moved slightly under h
is touch. A tiny hint of contentment crossed her lips.

  “McReidy,” he whispered.

  “Hmm?” The vague response showed little signs of consciousness. If anything, it made her snuggle in closer.

  “McReidy, wake up.” John’s voice was firmer this time, appearing to penetrate a little deeper. “Come on, wake up. Time to go home.”

  Her eyes flickered open, slowly at first. She suddenly shot upright. “I’m sorry –” she began hurriedly.

  “Forget it.” He brushed away her apology with an amusing smile. “How’s your headache?”

  “I don’t have… Oh, yes I do.” She raised her hand to her forehead and grimaced.

  “Drop in at sick bay and get something for it. I’ll take you if you’re not feeling up to it.”

  “No, I’ll be all right.”

  She eased away and he felt that invisible wall begin to creep back up.

  She caught sight of the blank screen. “Who won?”

  “It’s not over yet. I’ll be watching the second half tonight if nothing else crops up during the day. Do you want to join me?”

  “I’d like that.” She tried to smile, her head preventing any successful attempt.

  Why couldn’t he be like this all the time? she wondered. It would save them both a lot of anguish. There was a lot to like about him. A softness she had seen years ago. On the rare occasions that he dropped his guard, she saw it surface. Just as quickly, it submerged beneath a cold exterior.

  She had asked Gillespie about it only a few weeks ago when she stayed behind to help him clean up after poker. He had known John from their time on Magellan and the blank years between then and now hadn’t affected their understanding of each other.

  At first, Gillespie had been reluctant to say anything. She felt she was touching on personal ground and expected him to use that as an excuse.

  His discomfort was obvious as he avoided her look, slid his hands through his hair, paced his loungeroom and finally told her to sit. She dropped the coasters in the recycle unit and settled on the lounge.