“Commander?”
The communications officer brokeinto his thoughts. He turned his head in answer.
“Bridge commander for the night?”
“No, I’ll stay here. I thoughtthe captain might have been back by now.”
“Very good, sir.”
As an afterthought, John added. “Tell them to send up some coffee.”
It was the one indulgence thecaptain permitted, although he drank only tea. English Breakfast, at any timeof the day. John remembered the explanation: “Somewhere in the galaxy, it’sbreakfast time.”
The shift changed, the coffeearrived and the lighting dimmed slightly to give the illusion of night. Theship was quieter. All stations were permanently monitored, though most of thecrew were off duty.
John relaxed back in the chair,sipping his coffee. Humphries had the helm – kind of boring when they weresitting in orbit – and Tan had taken over communications. Grech was atscience, reading through the latest information from the ground.
“Commander, we’re picking up afaint distress call,” Tan slipped an earphone in and began working his console.
“Where from?” John asked,finishing his coffee and slotting the mug into the holder on the arm of thechair.
“I can’t pinpoint it… It’sbreaking up… There’s a lot of interference.”
“Isolate and amplify.”
Tan tapped the keys. “It’s a bitbetter.”
“Put it on the main screen.”
“It’s only on audio.”
The message came through thebridge. “Ship… destroyed… Crew lost… Heading one thirty… Please help…” Themessage was repeated, interrupted only by static.
“Source?” John tensed.
“It’s definitely an Earth typesignal. Whatever the ship was, she’s one of ours.”
“How far away?”
“Best I can tell… A day… Dayand a half.”
John was silent for a moment. His hand rose to his chin as he mentally weighed up the situation. He felthimself becoming edgy. A small smile found its way to the surface and his darkeyes began to sparkle. He flicked the personal intercom. “Bismarck to CaptainDecker.”
“Giacomo here, sir,” came theanswer from the planet below. “The captain’s underground. Anything I can do?”
“Yes, you can put me through tothe captain.”
“Decker here. What’s all thefuss?”
“Sir, we’re picking up a distresssignal. I’d like permission to investigate,” John explained.
“How long?”
“About a day.”
“A day! Isn’t there anyonecloser?”
“Not that we’ve been able tocontact.” It wasn’t quite a lie. They hadn’t attempted to find out.
“All right,” Decker agreed. “It’s getting late and we’ve been invited to an evening reception. I wouldhave preferred you down here –”
“You know I hate those things,”John groaned.
“We’ve got a full day ahead of ustomorrow,” Decker continued, ignoring John’s interruption. “Be back at dusktomorrow. And be careful.”
“Yes, sir. Bismarck out.” John’sattention turned back to the crew. “Mister Humphries, plot an intercept course–”
“Course already plotted.”
John’s look of surprise was metby one of anticipation.
“I didn’t think you’d take no foran answer, sir,” Humphries smiled before turning back to the helm.
“Then what are we waiting for. Take us out of orbit. Full speed ahead.”
* * *
McReidy reached her arms aboveher head and stretched backwards as far as the seat would permit. The kink inher back refused to budge. Her arms dropped to her lap and she rolled hershoulders, her seat creaking loudly as she moved.
Almost a day had passed and theradio was still silent. They’d picked up some shrapnel in the explosion andlong range communications were out, Kowalski had claimed. At least the beaconstill worked.
She looked across to Kowalski. He had reclined his seat and was sleeping peacefully.
As she watched him for a moment,she thought he looked young enough to still be in school. His light brown hairfell to his eyebrows, his chin fell below the collar of his bubble suit. Earlier, she had thought him dead. Now, he had managed to save them all. Shesmiled and looked at the clock – for what must have been the thousandth time.
“Go to sleep,” Gillespiemumbled. He was settled on the floor, curled on his side with his eyes closed.
“I can’t,” McReidy whispered, notwanting to wake Kowalski.
Gillespie propped himself up on onearm and rubbed his eyes. “I know what you mean,” he yawned and sat up. “Coffee?” he asked, moving to get himself a mug.
“Yeah, why not.”
The console beside him lit up andhe forgot everything else as he flew back to his seat, his fingers responding immediately. “We’ve got an answer. Someone’s found us.”
“Commander, we’ve picked upsomething directly ahead of us,” Humphries reported.
“On screen,” John ordered.
For a moment, he saw nothing butthe emptiness in front of them.
“Magnify.”
A tiny dot appeared.
“Mister Tan?”
“It’s definitely the source ofthe distress signal,” Tan answered.
“Identify.” The order wasdirected at no one in particular.
“It’s a shuttle,” Humphries pickedit up on scanners. “Appears to be slightly damaged. It’s one of ours allright.”
“Open a channel.” John clearedhis thoughts before continuing. “This is Commander Madison of the Bismarck. Please identify and state your problem.” His face lit up as he recognisedMcReidy and he lost track of what he was saying. “McReidy!” was all he couldincredulously manage.
“Commander, am I glad to seeyou,” she cried with relief. “What are you doing out here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Rescuingdamsels in distress.”
John nodded as Humphries spoke tohim. He didn’t hear the words but knew what was being said. His tone changedto one of seriousness.
“Your shuttle’s not too damaged? You can land it all right?”
“Yes, we’re fine.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Three.”
“Hi, sir,” Gillespie piped up,poking his head into view over McReidy’s shoulder.
“Three?” John repeated silentlyto himself almost in shock. “Your pilot?” he asked hesitantly. “Is he…?”
“No,” McReidy answered, glancingacross at Kowalski still strapped in his seat, head flopped onto his chest. “He’s just asleep. Sam, wake up.”
Kowalski jumped as McReidy shookhim. “What?” he asked, rubbing his eyes and looking about him. His focus settledon the screen as the conversation continued around him.
“What happened to the ship? Thecrew...? Captain Barrett?” John asked the questions that he dreaded answersto.
“All lost,” McReidy answered. “Myreport’s in the shuttle log.”
Something in McReidy’s eyes toldJohn there was something more.
“Mister Tan, download all shuttlelogs. Mister Humphries, use long range scanners to search for any survivors.” John switched on the intercom. “Engineering, get someone to the shuttle bay.” He barely waited for acknowledgement before switching the intercom off. Hiseyes never left the screen. “You need anything…? Medical?”
McReidy shook her head.
“We’ll be there in…”
“Eighteen minutes, sir,”Humphries confirmed.
“Eighteen minutes,” John repeatedsoftly. Questions flooded his head, but they’d remain there – for at leasteighteen minutes.
Static distorted the image on thescreen
