Phasers were tuned and targetingsystems recalibrated. Simulations were one thing, but when real practice atthe remnants of a comet tail had more misses than hits, the entire system wasrecalibrated. The hits that were accurate barely had enough force to disrupt afighter let alone destroy one.
The crew were trying and Johntried not to show his frustrations. He spent as many hours helping to upgradethe ship as he did on the bridge – possibly more. A shopping list and a fewhours on Kuiper and Gillespie and Wright had scored a treasure trove ofsupplies. One of the cargo bays was transformed to build and store weapons.
John took it on himself to finetune the helm. McReidy offered to help, but he preferred Giacomo. The pilotknew the system. And when John temporarily wired helm control throughnavigation, she had her hands full.
It was a more difficult task thanhe’d thought. The old circuitry couldn’t handle the increased efficiency ofthe engines and the demands put on it. It kept shorting out. Every bypass andconnection made on it caused more problems. The whole system needed strippingout and refitting.
Once begun, it had to befinished. A request to engineering in the early hours of the morning hadKowalski on the bridge. Upended boxes and parts littered the floor.
Humphries and North were bothouted from the helm and navigation with the instructions, “Make yourselvesuseful and stay out of the way.”
Tan busied himself atcommunications in case he got the same instructions.
As the last fresh circuit blew,John slid out from beneath the helm. He tossed the circuit onto the pile ofbroken parts and slid his hand through his hair in frustration.
“Sam, I’m taking a break.”
“I’ll still be a while here,”Kowalski answered from beneath navigation.
“Mister North, take these partsdown to engineering and see what they can fix.”
“Yes, sir.” North boxed up thepile and left the bridge.
John was exhausted; he’d been onthe go for nearly twenty four hours. He straightened up, attempting to stretchout the knots in his body, then slumped into his chair.
“Coffee, sir?” Humphries offered.
“Not yet. Let me unwind first.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mister Tan?”
Tan looked to John and shook hishead. “Nothing of any interest, sir.”
John’s gaze drifted back to thehelm. As he watched Kowalski work, there was something familiar about it. Hegrinned to himself: he should have realised it earlier.
“Mister Kowalski,” he called.
“Sir,” Kowalski answered.
When John didn’t continue, Kowalskislid out from under the console. John stood up and waved him over with aforefinger. Kowalski got to his feet, brushed himself off and followed Johninto the office.
John sank comfortably into thechair behind the desk. “Where’s Anthony?”
“Sir?” Kowalski frowned,fidgeting.
“I’ve been watching you work,Sam. Don’t tell me you don’t know where he is.”
Kowalski put his hands behind hisback and looked at his boots. John figured his “debriefing” after Betelgeusehad been effective.
“I know you’re under orders butCommand couldn’t care less at the moment. This is as real as it gets, and Ineed him.”
Kowalski lifted his eyes to meetJohn’s. “He’s on Copernicus.”
“Thank you.” John smiled warmly.
“Is that all?”
“Just one more thing. When youfinished at the academy, why Magellan?”
A shy smile crept out. “I didn’twant to be anywhere else.”
The following seconds filled Johnwith the warmth of memory. “Go on,” he nodded towards the door.
“Thank you, sir.”
As the door closed behindKowalski, John shook himself back to the present. He switched on the console,secured himself a channel and put through the call.
Anthony Delaney’s face lit upwhen he saw John. His hazel eyes shone, his soft brown hair fell to hiseyebrows, and an impish grin ran from ear to ear.
“Aw, man, am I glad to see you.” There was no formality about Anthony. Formalities were for high rankingofficers and snobs – and they were usually the same people. He was only alieutenant, but John’s superior rank meant nothing to him.
“I see you haven’t changed.”
“How’d you find me?”
“Sam.”
“Kowalski?”
“Long story.” John wasn’t goinginto it. “I’ve got my own ship.”
“Cool!” Anthony was impressed.
“I’m having a few problems withher, though.”
“Where are you? Drop in and I’llhave a look at her for you.”
This time John frowned.
“What Command doesn’t know…”
John smiled. That was theAnthony he knew. Like a kid at Christmas with a new toy, he couldn’t wait toget his hands on something and pull it apart. Although putting things backtogether was his specialty. “It’s not that simple.”
“With you, it never is.”
“You’re too far out of our way tocome in. I just need –”
“All the help you can get. Shipand problem.”
“Bismarck, helm control,” Johnanswered.
Anthony turned to the side. There was a clicking as his fingers worked the keyboard. “Bismarck… Bismarck,” he spoke quietly to himself. “Ah, here it is… Whoa, are you in trouble!”
John wasn’t encouraged byAnthony’s exuberance, but then very little depressed the engineer’s spirits.
“Now, what exactly is wrong withthe helm?”
“It’s slow and heavy. And sincewe upgraded weapons and shields, she’s picked up a lot of vibration.”
Anthony glanced at the consolebeside him. “According to what I can find, she should have been overhauled twoyears ago. There’s no record of it being done.”
“It wasn’t done.” John flinchedfrom Anthony’s glare.
“Geez, John. How do you expecther to keep going if you don’t look after her? Let me guess. You overhauledher yourself and now the old systems can’t take it. You’ll be lucky if youdon’t short out the whole bridge.”
“Well, we haven’t shorted thewhole bridge,” John weakly defended himself.
“When I get hold of you,” Anthonyshook a warning finger, “I’m going to throttle you.” He mumbled his opinion ofamateurs meddling where they shouldn’t while he turned his attention back tohis notes. “Do I need to ask why you upgraded weapons and shields on a cargoship?”
“Have you heard what’s been goingon recently?”
“Not really. We got a call acouple of weeks ago saying we’d be busy, but no one’s giving any reasons.”
John summed up the situation.
Anthony let out a breath as hetook it all in. “I see why you’ve got Sam. All right, who’s your gofer?” Hetook a pencil from his jacket and began writing.
“Gillespie.”
A smirk played on Anthony’smouth. “Chief Engineer?”
“Michael O’Grady.”
“O’Grady…” Anthony tapped hispencil on the desk in front of him. “I don’t think
