Mac’s Challenge (Part 1)

Month 9 Day 11

Shore Leave Day 12

2009 Hours

Bugalu

Previously:

“If I’d known you were ready to drink, Mac, I would have bought yours,” Ryan stated.

And with that simple offer, the entire tone of the evening changed.

Mac considered the unopened bottle sitting in front of her for a long moment.

“For space sakes, Ryan, can’t you see she isn’t interested in you?” Abdulla growled at the man who sat next to her.

“No, he can’t,” Mac answered quietly. “They never can.” She sent a brief, important look to Bugalu - Is she warning me? Asking for help? What’s she up to? - and stood up to look around the crowded bar. “Good. all the worst ones are here,” she muttered.

“Ensign Jones!” Mac called out, and the general noise of the place quieted as her eyes went to the next person she called on; “Evans! Adams! Moor!” She paused for a deep breath. “And Winthrop,” she finished. “Ryan wants to try and get me drunk! Each of you has also made that offer, in your own oblique and repetitive ways. I’m tired of it. If you really think you can out-drink a Gaelunder, come give it a try!”

“Yellow Pits of Zort!” Abdulla muttered as Mac sat down.

Mac lay her hand on Bear’s wrist. “Will you protect my flank, Tall Person?”

“You got it, Shorty.”

“Thank you.” She turned and moved her unopened bottle to the floor beneath the table, placed her hands on the table and waited as the crowd shifted. The men she had named soon replaced Beth, Capac, Abdulla and Yellow Dog at the table. Her friends pulled chairs from other tables to sit in a blob behind her, uncertain what to expect.

“Now, how is this supposed to work?” Winthrop sneered. Unable to push his way to Mac, he had forced an extra chair up to the table on the other side of Bugalu.

“Bugsy, will you officiate?” Mac asked.

Alarmed, he leaned towards her to whisper, “Mac, if I get out of this chair, Winthrop will be in it in a second!” Her expression said it all. No, I didn’t think she’d like that thought. Maybe she should ask Capac to-

But as usual, Mac had her own idea. She glanced at the Security Chief and then at the group behind her. “Dog?”

“Yes,” the yeoman agreed and stood up, put her hand on the back of Bugalu’s chair.

Mac shifted in her chair, raised a foot off the floor. “Okay, go.”

“Hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered. As he surged up and stepped away, he felt his chair being moved. Winthrop crowded closer, but his chair suddenly went flying backwards, slamming him right into Evans. By the time they sorted themselves out, Dog was in Bugalu’s vacated chair, next to Mac. Bugalu smiled in relief, realized Della had slipped into Dog’s vacated chair.

Winthrop gave a fuming glare at the AmerInd. He probably thinks he can intimidate her into moving. His blackest look won’t scare her. A much better choice than Capac.

“Oh, my, what happened?” Mac asked, her eyes round and trying to look innocent. She turned to the group behind her. “Beth, maybe we should get everybody checked out, medically? I don’t want anybody claiming later that they were half-drunk when we started.”

Beth looked up from her personal communicator. “Drake is on his way.”

“Good,” Mac responded. “Okay, while we’re waiting, we might as well get things set up. We will be drinking shots, 1 every 5 minutes. Bugalu will officiate, meaning he will fill the glasses and tell us when it’s time to drink. As each of you loses consciousness, Bugs will also make arrangements for you to be returned to your hotel room, so be sure you tell him where you’re staying.”

“You seem very sure of yourself,” Moor stated.

Mac gave a lop-sided shrug. “Men have been trying to get me drunk since I arrived at the Academy.”

“And none have ever succeeded,” Bugalu added.

“Not even you?” Winthrop asked.

“I don’t use booze for that,” he returned. “And I’d certainly never try it on a Gaelunder; I’ve seen them drink.”

“I think you guys are overplaying the ‘Gaelunder’ part,” Moor scoffed. “It’s just a colony, and they are humans. Just like all of us.”

Mac grinned. “Human, yes. Like the rest of you? Well... I guess we’ll see.”

“Okay, he’s stone cold sober,” MacGregor said, glancing at the readout of the medscanner he had just waved over Tall Bear.

Bear’s head swiveled in his direction. “Not me, Doc. I’m not drinking.”

“Glad to hear it,” MacGreg said. “Didn’t think this sounded like you.” He moved to the next man, Ryan.

The server stepped forward. “Management does not object to a drinking contest so long as it doesn’t become a brawl. But since drinking contests often do become a brawl, you will each be required to place a deposit which will be used to pay the security guards if they are needed. If not, you’ll get your deposit back.”

“I am security!” Winthrop declared.

“Not here you’re not,” MacGregor immediately disagreed. “Here, you’re just another Fleet crewman on leave. Besides, you’re participating in the contest.”

“How can I not?” Winthrop asked. “She personally invited me.”

“You heard the local rules,” Bugalu told everyone at the table. “Get out your payment cards and authorize a conditional deposit.”

“We’re all Fleet officers; you’d think that would be enough,” Moor complained. “The Fleet won’t tolerate brawls.”

“That’s what I was told at the Academy,” Mac told him. “But in my first month there, I was banned from the Horse and Carriage. Because of a brawl after a drinking challenge. It was the Horse and Carriage that banned me, not the Academy.”

“I think I remember hearing about that,” Bosilevac said as he stepped forward from the crowd. “Happened before I got there, but I heard that a tiny slip of a redheaded freshman took on 2 dozen male cadets at the Horse & Carriage and sent every one of them to the hospital.”

Two dozen? “That’s not correct,” Bugalu refuted, trying to sound certain.

“Nobody landed in the hospital,” Mac stated. “Several went to sick bay for first aid. And there were not 24 of them.”

“Exaggerations,” Bugalu named it.

“Well, how many men did you-uh, were involved?” Bosilevac asked.