Melchior’s glass was empty. He put it on the table in front of them and leaned back comfortably in the oversized lounge chair. “That’s a mighty fine young engineer you’ve got.”
John grinned. They had finally got around to the main subject of their chat.
“You can’t have him.” He knew it had to be Kowalski, although the answer would have been the same for any of the others.
“I haven’t said that I want him.” Melchior eyed John cautiously.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can’t have him.”
“I could sequester him away from you.”
The implied threat, reinforced by the captain’s cutting gaze, unsettled John. Melchior had the rank and authority to do so.
“I would rather you didn’t do that, sir.” His calm voice was an effort.
Melchior was quiet for a moment while he decided something. He casually looked around for the waiter, attracting the man’s attention with the beckon of a finger. A nod and a quick finishing swipe across a tabletop and the waiter retrieved the whiskey bottle from the bar.
“I suppose it wouldn’t do me any good at the moment anyway,” Melchior continued as the waiter poured him another drink.
John shook his head as the waiter looked to him, then backed away discretely.
“We need to put in for major repairs. The engines were shot to pieces. I don’t know how they got them up and running.”
John breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t know how he would get along without Kowalski and he had no intention of finding out. Had he been Decker or a captain in his own right, he knew Melchior would have left it as a suggestion, possibly an observation. He refused to be intimidated by the man’s superior rank.
“Chat” over, John excused himself. His escort was waiting outside the lounge, straightening to attention as the door opened.
John fumed as he was led to the transporter room. The sooner he got off this ship, the better.
*
The engineers were waiting for John in Bismarck’s transporter room.
“Debriefing, sir?” Kowalski asked.
“Yes. I want everything you learned on Shimodo into our systems. Lock it away somewhere obscure where no one would think of looking. Make sure you tell me so I can find it in an instant.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then go and get some rest. You all look tired.”
They left amid mumbled thank yous, and John returned to the bridge. One look at his face and McReidy slipped out of his chair and back to navigation as quietly as possible.
He didn’t even acknowledge her action as he slumped into his chair; the tension on the bridge rose a degree.
McReidy and Giacomo exchanged looks, and Gillespie and Tan busied themselves.
“I don’t have to be a telepath to know what you’re all thinking!”
McReidy turned her seat to him. “Want to get it off your chest?”
Her voice was soft. Unusually so.
“No.”
He hesitated and she began to turn her seat back.
“Captain Melchior,” John fumed. “He wants Kowalski.”
“He what?” McReidy spun her seat back to him, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Gillespie’s interest shot to the conversation.
“A crew of over two thousand,” John continued, the anger showing through in his words. “And he wants my engineer.” The emphasis was on the possessive word. “He even had the nerve to threaten to sequester him from me.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said no.”
There was silence. They all had their own thoughts, but no one wanted to lose Kowalski.
“They’re putting in for major repairs,” John wiped his hand over his face, “so we should be safe. Somehow, I don’t think we’ve heard the last of it.”
“Do you really think he could take Sam away?” McReidy ventured to ask.
“That depends on how high he goes. I’m not very popular with the admirals.” He shuddered slightly at the admission. “This stays here.”
He eyed them individually, receiving nods of confirmation. He realised he probably shouldn’t have said anything in front of them, but if he couldn’t trust his bridge crew…
And he did trust them.
He shook his mood off. “How would you like some shore leave?”
“I think we could all do with some,” Gillespie answered.
“Giacomo. Find us somewhere nice.”
“I think I know the perfect spot.”
Giacomo brought up a map of the area on the main screen. A few adjustments to the view as he located and zoomed in on a likely target.
“Chatika. Earth friendly, according to all reports. Close enough to keep us on some sort of schedule and far enough behind the border to give us a bit of peace. Hopefully.”
The last word was added with a cheeky grin that seemed to cheer them all up.
John was pleased with the pilot. Giacomo was learning; his thinking was becoming instinctive. He knew where he was and what was around him.
* * *
As soon as they reached Chatikan space, John made contact with the homeworld. Formal greetings put him at ease and he was acutely aware that his dialogues were sounding more rote than personal. Going through the motions of protocol wasn’t going to endear him to anyone and he was going to need a bit of sweet talking when they got back on schedule.
The Chatikan President didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary in John’s greeting. They were welcome for as long as they would like to stay. She even noted some areas of recreation that humans seemed partial to.
John thanked her and switched the screen back to space.
“You want to slow down, Giacomo?” he queried. “Sideswiping asteroids is not going to get you there any quicker.”
“Sorry, sir,” Giacomo apologised, easing the ship through an asteroid belt and putting her into orbit around the homeworld.
Chatika was a tropical paradise. The sun beat down on the golden sand below them. The ocean lapping along the beach was warm and inviting. A cool breeze that filtered around the leaves of the trees kept the temperature at a reasonably warm level.
As Gillespie finished his summing up, Giacomo wasn’t the only one anxious to get down there.
“Rosters?” John asked.
“Done,” Giacomo grinned.
There was no doubt the pilot was anxious to get away.
“You wanted first shift, sir?”
“Yes,” John confirmed. Paranoid, maybe, but he had no intention of a repeat of the Bachaan hijacking.
John was about to dismiss the crew when he suddenly remembered what day it was. “Steve, game still on tonight?”
“For any of us silly enough to be back on board.”
The general thinking was probably not. Come night time, it was a different matter. Almost everyone had had their fill of sun, sand and sea, for one day at least, and were looking forward to a peaceful night.
Giacomo was the only one who hadn’t turned up for poker. It surprised John so much that everyone else had turned up, he felt he had to comment on the absence.
“Where’s Giacomo?” he asked, his eyes resting on McReidy.
She avoided his look as she answered somewhat vaguely. “Oh, he said something about a walk along the beach and a moonlight swim.”
John’s eyes lit up. “What do you think?” he asked Gillespie.
“Sounds like a good idea.”
McReidy frowned as she looked from one to the other.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” She was on her feet as soon as they moved, blocking the doorway from them. “You are not going down there spying on him.”
“Us?” John asked innocently, feigning shock at the thought of such a thing.
“Yes, you.” She couldn’t help but respond to his baiting.
“Gentlemen, I do believe we have a romantic among us,” he grinned cheekily.
“You better b
elieve it.”
It was only confirmation of a fact they already knew.
“You can’t leave till midnight anyway,” she told Gillespie, who sat down.
“I don’t know what you’re so pleased about,” John continued provoking. “You’ve got the following watch.”
A fist headed to the centre of his chest. He caught it and held it still.
“Don’t ever throw a punch at me unless you intend landing it.”
She stared at her fist for a moment before tilting her head to catch his eyes.
He saw her surprise at her action and a touch of guilt as she braced herself for the inevitable repercussion.
He wasn’t angry. He’d provoked her worse than that before for less response. It just indicated the current mood. She was stressed – they all were.
“Shall we play?”
His soft voice barely penetrated. Her eyes and her attention were elsewhere. “Huh?”
“Poker.”
She blinked. “Yes… of course.”
* * *
At Dunlop’s suggestion, they spent another two days. Two more days was going to really mess up their schedule.
“It’s already messed up,” Dunlop reminded John.
Yes, but Dunlop didn’t have to answer to Powers. John couldn’t figure out why the doctor was so insistent.
The crew deserved it; there was no doubt about that. He’d heard nothing from Command about being late to Aran so maybe he could sneak a few more days. The Chatikan President had no hesitation in granting permission for another two days.
It was a happier crew that finally bid farewell. It would probably take another day to pull them all back into line and get their minds back on their jobs.
It was probably that thought that weighed on John’s mind. He didn’t feel as refreshed as everyone else. He felt tired. He hadn’t been able to sleep the previous night.
“Greetings from sick bay.”
Dunlop’s voice over the intercom as the ship pulled away from the planet caught John by surprise. He didn’t think there had been any of the usual shore leave altercations.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Guess what time of year it is?”
There was silence, then simultaneous groans from John, Giacomo and Tan as they remembered. John sank down into his chair. Giacomo’s head dropped onto his forearms across the console, his eyes screwed shut. Tan slowly shook his head. McReidy looked to Gillespie for an answer. He shrugged unknowingly.
By Dunlop’s continued overly sweet tone, it was apparent that the shipwide reaction had been similar. “That’s right. Annual medical checkups.”
“Does he have to sound so happy about it?” Giacomo sulked.
“Please make yourselves available for appointments and we’ll get through this a lot quicker.” The intercom was switched off before hundreds of reasons for non attendance could be thought of.
John now knew why Dunlop had suggested more time for shore leave. A happy, relaxed crew would have better reports than a burnt out, stressed crew.
* * *
It wouldn’t have taken long to get through the ship’s personnel if some crewmembers didn’t find that they had no time available. It amazed Dunlop the number of people who suddenly appeared to have duty twenty four hours a day. Whatever time of day or night he tried to get them seemed to be the same exact time they were due on shift.
“I’d have more success if I held these checkups in the bar,” he complained to Kat.
“Why don’t you?”
“Because their blood alcohol readings would send everything else through the roof.”
He finally managed to chase most of them down, even resorting to lying in wait and duty restrictions to anyone who did not submit. He had the rank to carry out such threats, and John’s blessing to do so. Confinement to quarters did keep a couple of rebels in one place long enough for examinations to be carried out.
Dunlop didn’t know why so many of them made it difficult. All were in excellent health and had nothing to hide. A few symptoms of minor ailments made no difference to the end result. It took almost the week he had allowed to get through them. Theoretically, a couple of days were all that was necessary.
There was only one person left. Someone whose excuses were verging on the edge of reality: who seemed impossible to locate unless he actually was on duty.
“What are you going to do about him?” Kat asked.
“Outsmart him,” Dunlop answered. “If you need me, I’ll be on the bridge.”
Dunlop was not on the bridge a great deal. When he was, it was usually important. His arrival and greeting of, “Commander, I need to speak with you,” was heeded immediately.
“In my office.”
John took his seat. Dunlop preferred to stand, casually strolling in front of the desk. For their own reasons, neither of them made eye contact and avoided looking at the other.
“Finished the reports?” John asked lightly.
“Almost. That’s what I need to speak to you about.”
“Oh?” John felt slightly uncomfortable.
“Yes. One of your crewmen seems to be avoiding me. It doesn’t matter what I say or do, he just refuses to turn up.”
John thought for a minute. As much as he disliked it himself, he wasn’t going to let any of the crew out of it. It was as much a requirement as any other duty. “Then you can tell him that I am ordering him to report to sick bay immediately and he is suspended from all duty until you have finished with him.”
“Good,” Dunlop smiled. “Get going.”
“Me!” John spun his chair to face the doctor.
“Yes, you. You’re the only one –”
John turned away from Dunlop’s look. But he wasn’t quick enough. The doctor was around the desk and spun the chair back to face him.
John’s head fell against the back. Dunlop’s hand was on his forehead. He had a temperature. His eyes were heavy and partly glazed; his mouth was dry, his breathing congested.
“So you’re the one who’s spreading it around.”
“I’m fine.” John was unable to convince either of them.
“No, you’re not. Dunlop to sick bay,” he called over his communicator. “Kat, can you bring my bag to the bridge?” He turned his attention back to John. “No wonder you’ve been avoiding me.”
“It’s just the flu.”
“Right,” the doctor disagreed. “In a sterile environment where the flu virus doesn’t exist. How long have you been like this?”
“I told you I’m –”
A glare cut him off in midsentence.
“I don’t know, a few days.”
“Headaches? Insomnia? Restlessness? Lethargy?”
John nodded to each symptom. His temples pounded, the pulse in his throat raced as Dunlop checked it. His eyes were almost opaque – probably as hard to see into, as they were to see out of.
Kat wasted no time in carrying out Dunlop’s request. As she looked around the bridge for the doctor, McReidy pointed her to the office.
“In there.”
“Thanks,” she smiled.
Kat stopped in her tracks and gasped when she saw John. “You look awful!”
“Always a pleasure to see you too, Kat.”
“Is it the same as the others?” she asked the doctor.
“Yes.”
Kat stepped forward and gave Dunlop his bag. As he dived into it, John turned away and screwed up his eyes. He knew he had no say in anything now. He waited for the words he knew were coming: “This won’t hurt a bit.”
“That’s what you said last time,” John retorted.
“And I was right. It didn’t hurt me one bit. Now stop your complaining. That’s a nasty bug you picked up, but it’s not completely resistant.”
John didn’t want to look, but there was nothing wrong with his hearing. Nor his nervous system as the hypo found its mark. A jab that was slightly more forceful than necessary.
“Now, I am ordering yo
u to bed to sleep this off.”
“But –”
“No buts. They,” he inclined his head towards the office door, “can manage perfectly well without you. If you had come to see me in the first place, you could have saved us both a lot of trouble. I still need you down in sick bay by the end of the week for your checkup.”
John nodded slowly. He knew there was no way out of it.
“Do you think you can get to your quarters or should I ask someone to escort you?” Dunlop knew John would resist.
“I can get there on my own,” John sulked.
“Then get going. That sedative will kick in in about five minutes. Then you won’t be going anywhere except out cold.”
John took the hint. He gave no one a reason as he put McReidy in charge. It wasn’t too hard to guess. As a doctor, Dunlop was the only one on board who could legally order John around. What could be hidden from the crew could not escape the eagle eye of the medical expert.
* * *
When John returned to the bridge a few days later, it was with the doctor’s blessing. He still had a couple of minor symptoms that would brush off in a day or so. His medical checkup revealed no problems. His blood pressure and stress levels were at an all time low. It was amazing the affect an enforced rest could have.
Via the intercom, Kowalski was in the middle of an argument with Gillespie. Whatever compromise was offered, the engineer refused.
“Commander’s back. You can talk to him,” Gillespie leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest.
“Mister Kowalski, what seems to be the problem?” John asked as he settled into his chair. If day one was going to start like this, his headache would be back before lunch.
Kowalski reeled off a list every complaint possible. A couple of other engineers spoke over the top of him, adding their own grievances to the list, including a few personal opinions that probably should have remained unsaid.
John tried to ease the situation before it got worse. “All right, enough. From all of you. I can’t hear myself think.”
The intercom was silent.
“Kowalski, what’s up with you? You’re nearly as grumpy as –” He spotted McReidy before he mentioned her name. The look she gave him warned him not to. “You’re not normally this upset.”
When the Dust Settled Page 31
