“He hasn’t gotten over Ark Royal,” Gillespie told her. “I don’t think he ever will.”
“But that was months ago.”
“I know.”
McReidy tried to think for a minute. There was something she should have remembered about Ark Royal. It wasn’t just a ship to him. “Wasn’t Laura –?”
Gillespie silenced her with a nod. “Yes. She was the only woman who ever had complete control over him. She could get away with murder… You know he’s out for revenge.”
“I guessed that. Somehow, I thought there was more to it than just the loss of one of our ships.”
“Whatever his outward motives, she’s the real reason. He’s ruled by his heart, you know that. He always has been. If he closes off long enough, he might be able to forget. Then he’ll become like all the other brass… And, if that happens, I’m going to miss him.”
During the awkward silence that followed, McReidy had found herself agreeing. She couldn’t see John becoming a regulation officer. He was too different, too unique. He had a flair for getting himself into and out of trouble. Rules were meant to be bent, twisted out of recognition and, occasionally, snapped completely.
“Did you know he hasn’t played Strategem since Captain Barrett died?” Gillespie finally broke into her thoughts.
“No, I didn’t.”
“I don’t know what we’re going to do with him.”
McReidy knew what to do.
Since the hijacking of the ship, John had begun to reassess matters. He had begun to open up to her – as far as work was concerned. They were spending a lot of time together. When they were alone, he let his guard down. His eyes would light up as he became distracted from his work, allowing him the freedom of a subject that interested him more, only to cloud over again as he returned to the original topic.
Occasionally, she had found him watching her. So deep in thought had he been that she thought his mind was a million years away. And if he drifted back and caught her watching him, the brick wall went up.
* * *
John was on the bridge when McReidy arrived the next morning. That was normal, but how dare he look so awake. On returning to her quarters, she had slept soundly for the rest of the night – all two or three hours of it.
“How’s your head?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice.
“Fine, thanks.”
There was a slight frown as he made a quick overall assessment of her condition. Was she really unaware that he did this every morning, or was it just today? she wondered. He seemed satisfied. She was glad he couldn’t read minds or it would be one horrible day.
Gillespie arrived not looking one hundred percent. He had slept off his headache, but his eyes were still heavy. He yawned, leaned forward over his console and rubbed his eyes. “I feel as though my head’s been stripped naked!”
He didn’t seem to be subject to the same critical assessment, McReidy noted.
“Don’t say a word, I’ve only watched the first innings,” John warned.
“Opinion?” Gillespie asked. It was obvious that he knew the result.
“If the openers start firing, two forty won’t be enough. If they go cheaply, it should be plenty.” John thought about it for a moment. “Anyway,” he slapped both hands on the arms of his chair. “Back to business.” He noticed an empty seat. “Where’s Mister Tan?”
“Here, sir.” Tan rushed onto the bridge and slipped past Gillespie to his position.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry, sir.”
No, he wasn’t late. Officially, he had just over a minute to spare. Anyone on John’s shift knew to be five minutes early. Anything less was automatically considered to be late. It was not worth anyone’s peace of mind to argue the technicality.
Satisfied that everything was the way it should be, John rose to his feet. “McReidy, with me.”
The emotionless tone automatically made her feel guilty.
Her thoughts must have shown on her face. She caught Giacomo’s reassuring glance as she turned. On her feet immediately, she placed her hand gently on the pilot’s shoulder, then followed John to his office.
“Sit down.” John crossed behind his desk and took his own seat.
The two words meant a long discussion. All the softness of the previous night was gone. His eyes were deep pools of mud reflecting the serious overtones in his voice.
It was not her personally, she realised. That would at least have brought a hint of fire to his eyes.
“I need your opinion.”
She didn’t answer, giving him whatever time he needed to explain.
“This latest update came in a few hours ago.”
He picked up the report from his desk, turned it around and tossed it towards her. It landed right way up in front of her and she began to scan it quickly.
“The Andromedans have made a major advance. At this current rate, they overrun Simpson’s fleet at Polgar.”
McReidy looked up, more interest in his words than what she was reading. He oversimplified. He often did when he wanted to hide his intentions.
“Computer, continue program.” He carefully avoided McReidy’s probing eyes.
The screen clearly displayed what the report stated. The newly occupied territory was marked over the previous boundaries, the position and number of fleet ships, the estimated position of enemy ships, and all planets of strategic importance to both sides.
“Doesn’t the fleet know about this?” McReidy asked.
“Not from what I’ve been able to establish. Two cruisers were allowed to slip through here.” He indicated the position on the map.
“Allowed to?” she questioned doubtfully.
“Page two, last paragraph,” John referred to the report. He gave her time to find and read the paragraph – a warning not to confront any ships, to stay well hidden until reinforcements arrived.
“It could be a bluff,” McReidy hoped.
“Reinforcements are due at Velos in under two days. That’s where all the communications have been coming from. Ground troops have been massing. A huge arsenal was suspected a while ago… It’s the key to their forces in this whole area.”
“It must be well protected.”
“Not really. It’s on the dark side.”
“Why do I get this sneaking suspicion that you want to take it out?”
“It’s a very real option. We know its defences. They’re all ground based. Any ship capable of stopping us is too big to be hanging around. It would draw too much attention. We can be in and out before they know what’s hit them. It would take them months to get back what they’ve amassed. And they won’t be able to rearm their ships to attack the fleet.”
The words sounded logical. McReidy could tell by the lack of fire in his eyes that there was more to it. “The bad news?”
John picked up his pen and crossed a line through the two lone cruisers. “We lose these two ships. The Andromedans would know they’ve been discovered and would attack the fleet.”
“I assume we have another option.”
“We join the fleet at Polgar. Pick up these two ships on the way out and make a stand.”
There was a long silence during which McReidy could say nothing. Her mind went completely blank. Any time she came close to even thinking of something, the words wouldn’t come out.
“Bismarck is ready for it,” John encouraged a response. Any response.
“How many are there?” she finally managed.
“I don’t know.”
“Reinforcements?”
“I don’t know.”
For every query she had, he had no answer.
“We have a third choice,” she decided.
John hesitated a moment. He didn’t believe he had missed anything.
“We could keep out of it.” McReidy tried to bring a moment of lightness to the situation.
“Maybe you can, but I can’t,” he confirmed his intentions. “We have two choices. We take out Velos a
nd stay on schedule without anyone being the wiser. They will immediately attack the fleet and these two ships are sacrificed.”
“Can’t we warn them?”
John shook his head. “They’re in too far. They’d be completely cut off. Or,” he continued on his main line. “We join the fleet. We get those ships back safely before the first attack. By doing so, we disobey every order we’ve received, we give ourselves away completely, and make ourselves just as much a target as everyone else. We lose every advantage Bismarck has got. When the reinforcements arrive, they’ll cut the fleet to pieces… The only advantage is that we force their hand a bit earlier than they’d like.”
Everything he said told McReidy to attack Velos. Without reinforcements, the fleet would stand a reasonable chance. Statistically, the loss of two ships ranked as a minor casualty. She looked again at the map. Territorially, the fleet was almost completely surrounded. There was no escape; they would have to fight their way out.
If the choice was so obvious, why did he want her opinion? She looked from the map to his face. He showed nothing. The brick wall was up but she felt a sense of loneliness about him. It was something he couldn’t hide from her.
“What is it you’re not saying?”
He leaned forward over the map and circled one of the crossed out ships. She saw the sorrow in his eyes. His voice betrayed nothing. “That’s Shimodo.”
“Sean!” The word was barely a breath. The world closed in around her. Not Sean!
She looked to John for an answer. She was in empathy with him. For a moment, she knew him completely; knew how his head worked, knew how his heart worked.
All common sense flew out the window. What had he called it – shades of grey? The problem was black and white, the answer wasn’t. It was wrong to leave Velos alone and risk the entire fleet. It was even more wrong to sacrifice Sean. She couldn’t live with that guilt.
“There’s no hurry. We don’t have to commit ourselves until we reach this point,” he indicated on the map. “Once there, there’s no turning back.”
Her eyes flicked to the map, but she barely noticed it. She was focused on his hand. It was warm and big, possessing a tenderness she could almost feel and an incredible emotional strength she needed to draw on. How easy it would be to fall apart right now. His own personal weakness would force him to comfort her.
Instead, she tore her eyes away. She tried unsuccessfully to smile bravely as she met him. “Tell me again why this is a bad idea?”
His hand pulled away and he flicked the intercom. “Giacomo, set a course for Polgar.”
“Yes, sir.”
McReidy was on her feet. Her knees felt weak; she couldn’t move. John was around from behind the desk before she realised it. He saw the tear form in the corner of her eye. His hand instinctively rose to her face to brush it away. He paused for a second, only inches away, and bit his bottom lip.
She struck out angrily, knocking his arm away. “How could you ask me to choose?” she demanded.
“The choice was never yours. I had to know I was right.” He pleaded for understanding.
Understanding? She agreed with him! Maybe he had wanted her to talk him out of it. She reasoned he had tried hard enough to talk himself out of it.
She knew how much it tore him up. It was personal. Well, at least Gillespie didn’t have to worry about John turning into just another officer. Any sane person would never have made that decision.
* * *
The fleet was a good three days away. The tension on the bridge was obvious. Something was up. No one knew what, and the only two who did weren’t talking.
It was another all night session in John’s quarters reviewing the day’s data and trying to figure out what they would do when they reached the fleet. John didn’t have a plan. That in itself was not unusual. A rational decision was well thought out. When his heart took over, there was no thought.
There was nothing new in the data that had come in that day. Nothing that was of any benefit to them. John yawned and stretched, rubbing his forehead. The pen dropped from his hand. He watched it hit the desk and stared aimlessly. He was tired. Nothing was making sense. He frowned at McReidy.
She was leaning back comfortably in the chair opposite with a set of earphones on. She often preferred to listen to the audio tapes when the transcripts made little sense. Why did she look so awake? He knew the answer to that. She was the one who had had a decent night’s sleep.
“Coffee?” he asked.
There was no answer.
He pushed out of his chair and came around beside her, pulling one earphone away from her head. “Coffee?” he repeated.
McReidy nodded. “Thanks.” The earphone snapped back a bit too quickly.
A few minutes later, he placed the steaming mug on the desk in front of her. He picked up a handful of papers and settled himself on the lounge. It was far more comfortable. The mug went on the coffee table. He lay on his back, his head resting on the arm of the lounge, his feet reaching along the length. He kicked his boots off. They fell to the floor with a thud, first one then the other.
He glanced in McReidy’s direction. She hadn’t noticed; he thought he might have disturbed her. He held the papers at chest level and began to read.
McReidy suddenly pulled the earphones off and opened her eyes.
“I’ve found something,” she began excitedly. She was surprised to find John wasn’t opposite her at his desk and spun the chair around. Her focus was a little blurred in the darker room beyond and she rubbed her eyes. “Commander?
She stood up and looked around for him, figuring he was probably making coffee again. The least he could do was answer her.
“Comman –?”
She didn’t finish when she spotted his boots. She marched across to the lounge.
His eyes were closed. One arm rested across his chest, crumpling the papers. The other hung over the edge, his fingers curled slightly a fraction from the floor, as though subconsciously preventing the contact. His head rested slightly to the left. His hair was tousled and fell towards his eyes. She was tempted to smooth it back into place, thinking that it really did need cutting. All the signs of worry had disappeared from his face and he slept with the peaceful innocence of a child.
She didn’t have the heart to wake him. She watched him for a few moments. Half expecting him to wake and catch her, she shivered at the thought. It was not only the thought. She rubbed her arms as she noticed a distinct chill. It was definitely warmer on the other side of the room.
She touched his mug. It had a hint of warmth. He mustn’t have been asleep for that long. She leant down towards him, picking up the arm from his chest and sliding the papers away before lowering it again. He didn’t move. She put the papers on the table beside the mug.
She opened a cupboard and grabbed a spare blanket. She shook it out and gently draped it over him, making sure he was fully covered and pulling it up to his chin. She picked up his loose arm to tuck it under. It fell away from her with such a force that it might have been deliberate. She froze for a moment. He didn’t stir, completely unaware of his action.
She made sure his feet were covered. Personally, she hated cold feet. It was enough to wake her during the night and she found it impossible to get back to sleep until they were warmed.
Surprisingly, she wasn’t as tired as she thought. She made herself another coffee and returned to the desk, settling into John’s comfortable chair. It was definitely warmer on his side. A gentle heat was coming from somewhere she couldn’t detect.
John stirred. His hands rose to his face and rubbed his eyes. It would take a moment for them to adjust to the half dark. He reached for the papers on his chest and felt only the blanket instead. Not fully aware of anything, he hadn’t realised he had put himself to bed.
A light from across the room attracted his attention. It shouldn’t be on. As his focus cleared, he suddenly remembered where he was. He looked at the blanket for a second, wondering how it g
ot there, then shot upright.
On the far side of the room, McReidy was settled in his chair at his desk reading some papers.
“What time is it?” he asked sleepily.
She glanced at her watch. “Almost five. You’ve been asleep about two hours.”
John padded to the desk in his socks and flopped into the chair opposite. “You should have gone home,” he yawned.
“I had something I wanted to finish.”
His hair was a mess, his jacket was screwed up and he was only slightly more awake than asleep. He propped an elbow on the desk and rested his forehead on the heel of his palm. The bright light made it impossible for his eyes to meet hers and he missed the warmth of her smile as she watched him.
“Besides, it’s warm over here,” she added.
“It is as long as you’ve got that light on.” He tried to force himself awake although he was tempted to close his eyes against the bright light. “What is it?”
“What’s what?” McReidy had momentarily lost track of the conversation.
“Whatever it is you’ve found.” His vision cleared. So, it appeared, did his other senses as he straightened up in the chair.
“This communication.” She leaned to the desk, quickly brushing through some papers until she found a marked one and passed it to John.
He read it briefly.
“It is Drago, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I believe so.”
“When I took into account the time delays between sending and receiving and our position, that puts him about three days from Velos.”
“You didn’t call him, did you?” There was a sudden concern in his voice.
“No!” she snapped. “You put the ship on radio blackout. I wouldn’t break that without at least asking.”
He nodded.
“Somewhere around ten this morning,” he continued, “we cut across Aran space.”
“You do realise that’s on our list,” she queried.
“There’s a few places on that list we’re going to have to double back on,” he conceded. “It would not be unusual for the Arans to contact the Betelians.”
When the Dust Settled Page 28
