First Try (Part 2)

Month 10 Day 26

0035 Hours

Smythe

Previously:

“Something needs to be done,” he agreed. But what? Lost in his thoughts, it took him a while to remember to dismiss Firoz. “And send her in,” he added.

Without looking, he knew when she entered the room. The temperature rose several degrees, and his clothes became... confining.

“Have a seat.” He pointed to the chair across from him; it would be best to have the table between them. She sat down without a word and he finally looked at her. She was studying him, a look of confusion on her face. For a time he could only stare at her, as he imagined himself arriving in the nick of time to rescue her-- Black Space, don’t think such things!

He pulled himself together. “I understand your position on the night shift has placed you under considerable strain.”

The confusion changed to surprise. “You do?” she asked.

She’s a mesmerizing vixen; it’s all I can do to keep my mind on the problem at hand. Finally, he gave an unnecessary little cough to pull his gaze away from her. “I want you--“ he started, and she scooted forward on her chair. “I think you should file charges against Lts Evans and Adams.”

She sat back, looking shocked. Then she giggled. A chuckle followed, and she was soon laughing uncontrollably. Hysterical? “I knew you were different the moment I saw you,” she finally stated, regaining some control.

“Different?”

“Past supervisors have tried to convince me not to file charges,” she stated, wiping her eyes. She calmed down and regarded him sadly. “But they were the ones I was filing against, not co-workers.”

“The situation is different here,” he said.

“It is.” She agreed. “Totally different.”

“Based on what I heard this evening, the charges you could file—”

“I can’t file charges.”

He regarded her for some time. “Why not?” he asked. She’ll probably say the same thing Firoz said.

She sighed. “It’s my record. On my previous assignments, long before now, I started filing charges. The more I filed, the worse it got. As if my filing proved they were making progress. Here, people say if I ignore it, it’ll stop eventually. My way doesn’t work, so I’m left trying that.” She exhaled deeply. “I wish I knew how long it’ll take.”

“It won’t work,” he told her bluntly. “Not with those two. I’ll have to lean on them long and hard before they’ll stop.”

She was shaking her head in apprehension and dismay. “No, not you!” she insisted desperately.

“I’m the logical person for you to go to, your supervisor. As well as Adams’ supervisor. I’ll have to involve Nichols, as Evans’ supervisor.”

“No,” she insisted. “Not you. Not Nichols, not the captain. I can’t file charges!”

“You can and you will!” he declared.

“I won’t!” she shot back, rising to her feet.

“Why in space not?” he demanded, also jumping up.

“Because I couldn’t stand listening to the intimate details of our affair!” she blurted. She turned white, and fell back into her chair, hiding her face with her hands.

Breathless from shock, he muttered, “We aren’t having an affair.”

“Of course not,” she stated. Her voice was muffled, but she sounded sad and... disappointed? “That won’t stop them.”

He slowly sat, his muddled mind churning sluggishly. “Stop them from what?”

“From... from telling everybody all the details!”

“There aren’t any details!” But there could be if--

“That won’t stop them!” she cried, uncovering her face. 2 tears left tracks down her face. “They won’t care that they’re lies! They’ll put their sick imaginations to work, and it will be you and I who have to live with the results!”

Finally, he understood what she meant. They wouldn’t be lies if-- “As long as we know the truth, does it matter? Most people will realize what they’re doing.”

She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t really care what people say, as long as I don’t have to listen to it. But I do have to listen to it. I mean, I can’t abandon my post, and there’s no way to make them shut up.” She sighed, staring at her hands in her lap. “It’s been kind of humorous, sometimes, to listen to their stories of me with Mac and Bugsy. They’re so far off base. Kind of educational, too, in a weird sort of way. But--“ She swallowed. “I don’t think I could stand it if they started saying those things about you.”

She hates me. Can’t stand the thought being paired with me, even in gossip. Good thing I haven’t made a fool of myself over her in public. MacGreg and Bugalu. I already knew that. He forced himself to suggest, “Then go to Dr MacGregor to make your complaint. It will complicate matters a bit, but--“

“Certainly not!” she declared. “It wouldn’t be fair to do anything that might look like confirmation of their accusations!” She shrugged again. “It wouldn’t be fair to any of the ship’s officers. So, if you’re done with me?” She rose, expecting to be dismissed.

“Not yet!” Smitty stood up, thrust out one arm so that his gold braid glittered against the red fabric. “We don’t get this kind of rank by being thin-skinned! Nor by being reluctant to do whatever needs done! So don’t think you need to protect any of us from the likes of Evans and Adams!”

A warm shiver went up his spine as he realized she was fondling his sleeve. Suddenly, she pulled her hand back and blushed. “I know it’s hard to believe anything good about me, Smit, but I accept punishment for my transgressions.” She stepped away from the table, muttered, “I should get back to work,” and started for the door.

He caught her by the arm before she got far, and pulled her back to face him. “But you haven’t done anything to be punished for!”

“No?” she asked breathlessly as her eyes studied his face guardedly. “Is that what you really think?”

“I think--: he began, but lost his train of thought. Her eyes are so green! “I think--“ he tried again. Someone pressed against him to kiss him. He smelled whiskey and lilacs. “MacDowell,” he groaned, but it was too late; already his hands were holding her close. He should send her away, but he couldn’t. He could feel his growing shaft confined between them, and his hands slid down to her buttocks. He could hardly feel her through the stiff stuff she wore. The paper tore; he could feel soft warmth through the rips.

But the paper wasn’t tearing. In fact, it didn’t feel like paper. He realized only parts of the scene were real; she was pressed against him, held tightly in pace by his hands on her derriere, and he was definitely responding. But the room was a briefing room, not his bedroom, the lights were on, and she wore a uniform. She was motionless, apparently speechless as she stared at him with a mixture of emotion on her face. Anticipation? Horror? Panic? Her fists rested on his arms, trembling.

Have I already kissed her, like in the dream? Or only getting ready to? Either way, my behavior has been unforgivable. He abruptly let go of her and stepped away, trying to put distance between them.

“Oh, dear.” Her whisper sounded confused and sexy, both at the same time.

I have to send her away. But the very reasons that made that imperative meant he didn’t know if he could. The soft firmness of her under me in my bed... No, that was a dream. But she’s here now, and would indubitable feel just fine on the table-- He jumped as her trembling fingers plucked at his sleeve.

“You’re on duty; get back to it.” It came out much sharper than he’d intended, he was so utterly tense.

He expected her to say, ‘If that’s all you want,’ and hoped he had the strength to keep his mouth shut and his hands off her, to let her go. But she made no attempt to take advantage of his obvious condition. “Yes, sir,” she responded quietly, and he heard the door sigh as she left.

With a gasp, he threw himself into a chair to regain control of himself.

First Try (Part 1)

Month 10 Day 26

0035 Hours

Smythe

The lift arrived too soon to suit Smitty, who was not sure how to phrase his apology. Not surprisingly, he heard some conversation between the door opening and his stepping off. “Mr Adams, that is a personal question that I choose not to answer,” Colleen stated stiffly. Adams is here? Smitty stepped unnoticed onto the bridge. Firoz, at the engineering console, caught sight of him; Smitty motioned for silence. What’s going on? 2 men stood flanking Colleen’s chair, leaning on it.

“I’m sorry I missed your party,” Adams told her. “I wouldn’t have let you substitute Bugalu for me, if I’d caught you under the mistletoe.”

“Don’t you need to modify the range to allow for proximity?” Evans asked.

“Not if we’re on course!” she growled through clenched teeth.

“That’s enough,” Smitty said softly.

She whirled, leaving Evans unbalanced as the chair pulled out from under his hand and struck Adams in the- The man’s face blanched as he leaned against the console and fought for breath.

Evans regained his feet. “You’re on report, MacDowell! For striking a superior!” His attitude suddenly changed. “Unless you care to... dissuade us from reporting this?”

She jumped up to face him. “Why stop with striking one officer? Why not assault 2?”

“Belay that!” Smitty roared, walked over to consider her... and realized she was wearing makeup. Not like that night on B-27, but... She doesn’t usually have dark circles under her eyes. What am I going to do with you?

She turned her head. “Are you asking for suggestions?” she whispered.

Oh, space! I said it aloud. How many others heard it? What kind of suggestions? Sitting at the same table, side by side, their knees touching, his hand on hers, her lips so sweet-- No, I don’t dare follow that question down that path. “I told you to keep a lid on that temper,” he reminded her loudly.

“Oh.” Her face turned a delicate pink. “Well, it has been 10 months,” she pointed out. “That’s a really long time. For me.”

“Has it?” he asked, and calculated the time. “10. And a half. Almost 11. Well, I can’t expect miracles overnight, can I?”

“Mr Smythe, I’m glad you witnessed it,” Evans stated. “I’m putting MacDowell on report for striking a superior officer!”

Doesn’t he realize- “Are you?” he asked. “What if her temper isn’t all I witnessed? What if the blow was accidental, and wouldn’t have happened if Adams hadn’t stood so close to her?” At least he has the sense to blanch, now that this isn’t going his way. “What I witnessed was one of the worst cases of harassment in history! I rather wish you-“

“Temper, temper,” he heard her whisper, and forced himself to calm down. Can’t expect her to stay calm if I can’t manage it.

“I wish you’d see that we are on course,” he groused. “Make do without a communications officer for a time; I need to speak to her.”

Evan’s eyes narrowed as he considered the woman suspiciously. “Yes, sir,” he stated, and turned for the helm.

Smitty turned to the lift, paused to consider Firoz. He told Adams, “I’m glad you’re here, Adams. Take Firoz’s place for a time; I need a few words with him, also.”

Adams swallowed, not yet over his pain. “Yes, sir,” he agreed hoarsely.

The 3 of them entered the lift, which he directed to deck 4. It had the closest briefing room. And... Colleen’s quarters. Maybe I should give her the rest of the night off. No, that won’t solve anything. He glanced at her, leaning in a corner, staring at the floor, arms crossed.

“Hey, Mac.” Firoz reached for her shoulder, but her forearm batted his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” she hissed.

“I don’t know how you put up with it,” Firoz told her quietly. “Or why.”

“What can I do?” she returned shortly, but just as softly. “I’d just give them more material for their dirty imaginations.”

The door opened. Smitty paused at the briefing room door. “You first, Firoz. MacDowell, you can go to your quarters, if you need a drink or...”

She shook her head grimly. “I need a belt, but... not on duty.”

Startled, he was ready to tartly tell her he hadn’t meant alcohol, but pulled his temper under control. How does she irritate me so easily? I’d have found the remark amusing, if Abdulla had made it. Well, at least she expressed the right idea; not on duty. “Yes, he mumbled. “Glad to hear it. I’ll be ready for you in a moment.”

“Promises, promises,” she uttered. He refused to dwell on the meaning of that, and entered the briefing room.

“Mac, don’t you ever think before you speak?” Firoz asked her.

“Now what did I say?” she asked, sounding exasperated.

He chuckled. “Ask Tall Bear at lunch. He’ll explain.”

“Umm, I may not be having lunch with TB.”

He seemed surprised. “No? Well, then I’ll explain after shift.”

When the door closed, Smitty took a seat and motioned the other engineer to another. “You seem to be friendly with Lt MacDowell,” he observed.

“She’s all right,” Firoz replied guardedly.

Now he remembered; Firoz prefers men. Well, move on. It doesn’t change why I’ve got him here. It might even be better. “I’m appalled by what I heard on the bridge. Tell me how that got started.”

Firoz scowled. “Evans needs to be put in his place, but I can’t squeal. That’s how he’d see it.” His dark eyes held anger. “He can be blasted mean. To anybody he feels is in his way.”

“Then you condone his behavior,” Smitty suggested

Firoz shivered in disgust. “I should be spaced if I do!”

“If you don’t act, you might as well encourage him,” he pointed out. The younger man hesitated, and Smitty went on. “Try to look at this as a debriefing.”

Now the swarthy features grinned. “A debriefing! Exactly! What would you like to know, Mr Smythe?”

“How many times has Lt Adams come to the bridge while on duty?”

“Just on duty?”

“Does he come when he’s off duty?”

Firoz shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to matter to him. He’s been showing up pretty much the last... almost 11 months.”

11 months? “Every night?”

“Whenever Mac and Evans are working. He tried to come when Evans wasn’t on duty, but Amana put an end to that.”

Amana? Oh, the relief helmsman. Correction. Evans is relief these days; Amana is midnights. From what I remember, she’s a no-nonsense woman. “What’s his reason for being on the bridge?”

“To pester Mac.”

“I mean, his official reason.”

“Don’t know that he bothers with one,” Firoz answered.

“What I heard tonight, was that typical? Or was this a special case?”

“Well, they referred to the party and mistletoe, and they don’t usually have that material to work with. But actually, what you heard was pretty tame.”

“Tame?”

“Of course, the shift has hardly started. Last week, they went into graphic detail about...” Smitty listened in growing horror at the tale of persecution the redhead had to endure, night after night. Firoz suddenly stopped. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“You’re looking kind of... green.”

“What you’ve described is pretty--“

“Raunchy,” Firoz agreed.

I was going to say ‘graphic’, but ‘raunchy’ is a better choice.

The younger man went on. “Pretty sickening to listen to. I keep expecting Tall Bear to punch one of them. Either one would suite me. Or both.”

“Tall Bear,” Smitty repeated. Across the messhall, Tall Bear kissed the redhead under the mistletoe, her hands firmly held by his own...

“--lunch with her,” Firoz was saying. “Otherwise, they’d go to lunch, too, and she’d have to endure it even then. By having lunch with Tall Bear, she has a chance to calm down. But he’s never even threatened them. Which I don’t understand, if he’s trying to get on her good side.”

Is he rambling? Or have I lost track of things? “What I saw was pretty horrible. If it gets even worse—” He sighed. “Why does she put up with it?”

“Because of their insinuations,” Firoz replied. “Since she keeps refusing them, they’ve decided she’s a braid-chaser.”

“Braid chaser!”

“That’s someone who--“

“I know what it is,” he told the man tartly. Do they know about— Do I dare to ask? “Who... who do they say she’s—”

Firoz gave him a strange look. All my talk about ‘no gossip’, and here I’m asking him to repeat it! But then the junior engineer answered. “Well, MacGregor, Winthrop and Moor are the only names they’ve used so far. So if she went to one of those with a complaint about them—she’d be a fool to go to Winthrop—they’d claim it was proof of their allegations. And if she went to another officer, they’d claim she was having an affair with him. So... checkmate.”

They’re bluffing. Surely she’s smart enough to realize that?

“She shouldn’t be on the night bridge, Mr Smythe,” Firoz stated. “Haven’t you wondered why no woman accepts duty there? There’s no women in night engineering, either. So both Evans and Adams have set their sights on Mac. Can’t you do anything about it?”

“Something needs to be done,” he agreed. But what? Lost in his thoughts, it took him a while to remember to dismiss Firoz. “And send her in,” he added.

More Dreams

Month 10 Day 25

2351 Hours

Smythe

His bedroom lights didn’t go on when he entered. Someone rustled as she pressed against him to kiss the corner of his mouth. He smelled whiskey and lilacs. “Colleen,” he groaned, but it was too late; already his hands were holding her close. He should send her away

“Merry Christmas, Dear,” she breathed.

“You’re confined to quarters,” he reminded her, even as his shaft grew confined between them.

“But it’s Christmas,” she protested, and nibbled his ear lobe as his hands slid to her buttocks. He could hardly feel her through the stiff, crinkly stuff she wore. “I’m your present,” she whispered.

“You?” The paper tore; he could feel her soft warmth through the rips.

She giggled as she rubbed against him, tearing the paper more. “One size fits all.”

All, he thought as he kissed her hungrily. Like Bugalu, MacGregor, Tall Bear- But his urgent need for her didn’t care about that. He had to have her, and his scruples be spaced. “Just once,” he promised himself, and tore the paper from her.

“If that’s all you want,” she agreed, and pulled him to the bed.

“Just once,” he repeated as he slid into her ready body. She didn’t answer him with words. In a moment - it seemed like only a moment - he groaned her name as he reached climax far too soon to satisfy him.

“Let’s do it again,” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes,” he agreed, and kissed her soft cheek.

“Mr Smythe?”

He blinked. How did she get out of bed without my knowing it? He realized that he had made love to his pillow. “Just a dream,” he told himself.

“What?”

He twisted to face the door, saw a red-uniformed woman there, but it was too dark to see who it was. Deja vu. This is the dream. Wait, why would I dream of her being over there, if I actually have her in my arms over here?”

“Sir, I know it’s late, and I know you’re... um, sleeping, but I must talk to you.”

That’s not- “Wilson!” he identified her.

“Yes, sir.”

“Come in,” he invited in relief. Just what I need; a chat with a knowledgeable engineer. “Lights,” he requested, and sat up, then wished he’d been sleeping in underwear, at least. Well, the bedclothes are tangled around me, so she’s not seeing anything, and won’t be too embarrassed. He looked up to see her staring at him in consternation, still standing in the doorway. “Is there an emergency?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

He sighed in frustration. A small emergency would have put me back on the right track. Well, maybe it’s not urgent; it’ll still be engineering. “Then what is it?”

“It’s about Lt MacDowell, sir.”

He groaned, covered his face with his hands. “What’s she done?” he croaked.

He heard the door close and discovered Wilson had finally stepped inside, barely. “Adams told me you’ve confined her to quarters.”

“Yes,” he admitted. Why does she care? Unless they’re fighting over Bugalu, and it leaves the field open for her.

“No one was sure why, but Boyd thought it had something to do with the mistletoe?” she went on.

He sighed and gave a tired nod. “She disobeyed an order.”

She stared at him in confusion. “What order did you give about mistletoe?”

“None,” he stated, and knew he’d have to explain. “A few months ago, she used an anti-grav unit in a device to play a trick on someone. I envisioned a rash of such tricks being played aboard ship, so I ordered her not to recreate it, nor tell anyone how. Apparently, she thought I wouldn’t mind if it carried mistletoe instead of balloons of water. But when I give an order, I expect it to be followed!”

“She didn’t disobey.”

“I can’t have my people disobeying just because- What?”

She swallowed. “Mac didn’t build the mistletoe units. I did.”

Do I believe her? “No need to protect her, Wilson. Did Bugalu ask you to?”

She shook her head. “Mac takes her lumps, and Bugalu expects her to,” Wilson replied. “Mac had absolutely nothing to do with the mistletoe anti-grav units.” She cleared her throat and added, “But you did.”

“Me!” I never even saw them until this evening!

“Some time ago, you asked me, if I were inclined to pull the old bucket of water over the door trick, how would I do it on a starship? I had no idea, but you said there was no hurry, there was no telling how long she had thought about it. I didn’t know who you were talking about, but apparently somebody had figured it out, so it could be done. You never did check back, but I figured it out. Then I used that as the basis for the mistletoe units. Mac was not involved. Sir.”

He sighed, for he had, indeed, asked that question. I wondered how long it had taken Colleen to figure it out. Well, I was wrong tonight, and I need to apologize. I’ll just hurry to her quarters and -  He froze in the midst of loosening the blankets tangled around him. Alone in her quarters? Not again! His eyes wildly sought out the chronometer, wondering if he dare put it off. Relief flooded through him. It’s past midnight. She’s on duty on the bridge. I don’t need to go to her quarters.

He again started to untangle the bed clothes, then realized Wilson was still present. His face went warm. “Thank you, Wilson. I’ll... correct my error.”

“Yes, sir.”

When she made no move to leave, he asked, “Something else?”

She looked uncertain. “I don’t usually get involved in other people’s lives...”

“Good.” But she’s about to.

“But, um, I have reason to believe, from things I’ve... observed...” She blushed, and couldn’t look at him. “It appears MacDowell... drives you crazy.”

“Does it?” he asked blandly, careful to keep all expression off his face. Whatever her meaning, I can never admit that.

She swallowed, plunged ahead. “I just want to say that Mac’s a nice person, and she wants very much to please you, but she’s-- Her father... had very exacting expectations of her.” That’s cold water in my face. I have high standards for my people, too. Is that the source of her inability to think in my presence? I’m too much like her father? “Anyway, I think you... both... need to relax around each other. And the easiest way to do that, it seems to me, would be for you to spend time with her.”

“Spend time with her?” Does she mean what I think she means? “I suppose I should take her dancing?” he demanded, and realized that was what he wanted, not what she’d said. “I spent her first 4 days in her company; that was enough!” he growled.

“Yes, sir,” Wilson agreed, and sighed. “I just thought if you answered her questions... on Mondays...” She sighed yet again. “Well, never mind. Good night, sir.”

He continued to stare at the doorway even after the evening engineer had left. If I answered Colleen’s questions, what? I’d soon be seduced, that’s what. Surely that can’t be what Wilson was suggesting? She’s got better sense than that.

Besides, you don’t go to the top rung of the ladder without using the lower rungs first. And if those lower rungs serve your purpose, you don’t bother the top rung at all. She’s been using those rungs, and they are more than capable of teaching her. A delicious shiver went down his spine at the thought of spending time with Colleen, of sitting at the same table, side by side, their knees touching, his hand on hers, her lips so sweet- I wouldn’t dare!

Aftermath

Month 10 Day 25

1959 Hours

MacGregor

The door opened and Bugalu greeted him in surprise. “Doc!”

Drake heard a soft cough from inside. “I was hoping to discuss, uh... family matters.”

Bugalu sighed. “Well, come on in, we were already discussing Mac.”

We? Drake stepped inside and found Takor and the captain already seated in Bugalu’s living room. Jane doesn’t seem drunk. Maybe she’s over that mood. “I’m a little surprised to see you here, Jane.”

“My reflections were interrupted by the news that MacDowell’s roommate had planned a party tonight, which would not fit with MacDowell being confined. I came to ask Bugalu to offer his quarters for the party - or something - in order to avoid any more trouble landing on his adopted sister. Only to find - once he got home - that it was too late.”

Drake sat on the other end of the sofa, while Bugalu brought the chair from the desk for himself. “Seems to me your Chief Engineer has gone a tad overboard.” Drake frowned. “But I’m not exactly impartial about Mac.”

“Seems like nobody is,” Jane observed. “Tell me what he’s done.”

“You heard him confine Mac to her quarters,” Drake began.

“You think that was out of line?” Jane queried.

“No, not if she’s guilty of disobeying orders.”

“Exactly what order did she allegedly disobey?” Jane wondered. “Originally.”

“A couple months back, she used an anti-grav unit to pull the old bucket of water over the door trick on me,” Drake explained.

Jane rolled her eyes. “How did she manage that?” Bugalu was grinning. Takor was... probably confused.

“I don’t really know. When Smitty took it apart, the only part that seemed to be anything was an anti-grav unit. Very ingenious, I thought, but Smitty ordered her not to do it again, not to tell anybody how to do it, and so on. I think he was afraid there’s be an epidemic of that particular joke.”

“Yes, practical jokes get out of hand so easily,” Jane muttered.

“So tonight, when he saw those mistletoe units she’d built--“

“Mac didn’t build those,” Bugalu interrupted.

“Lt MacDowell is, in my estimation, quite capable of--“ Takor began.

“Capable, yes!” Bugalu agreed. “But did she do it? No.” He began ticking items off on his fingers. “First, she was ordered not to by Mr Smythe. She doesn’t want him mad at her. Secondly, she couldn’t have done it. I just confirmed that she’s been working in fabrication to get a discount on the gifts she’d ordered. For the past week or so, she’s spent half her sleep time and her days off there. With all the other things she’s working on, that doesn’t leave her any time for making mistletoe units. Third, when she first saw them, her mouth dropped open in fascinated admiration, so she wasn’t already familiar with them.”

“Fascinated admiration?” Jane repeated.

The helmsman nodded. “She loves figuring out how things work. I think that’s the best part of communications for her.”

“Sounds like she might be happier in engineering proper,” Jane suggested.

Mac and Smitty in the same field? It’d be bedlam.

“Her father wouldn’t allow it, when she first signed up. She figures it’s too late, now, but she’s working her way through all the engineering books in the library, and she loves working on that Yukosk machine with Abdulla and Ivy.”

“I see.”

Bugs returned to his list. “And finally, if she had made the mistletoe units, she would have found a way for them to not wander over her. Instead, she was caught under them. Twice. Mac did not build them.”

“Why did she not tell Mr Smythe that?” Takor asked.

“He didn’t give her a chance,” Jane stated. “Anyway, he probably wouldn’t have believed her. He seems determined to think the worst of her.” She took a breath. “Okay, he didn’t bother to get his facts straight. What else?”

“Uhh, since she was confined, I made him go with me when I went to deliver her present, and there was this party--“

“Harris’ party,” Jane agreed. “Go on.”

“He told Harris to move the party or Mac would go to the brig,” Drake explained. “Those are the obvious choices. Under those circumstances, I probably would have said the same, but I wouldn’t have been so... angry when I said it.”

“He’s got a short fuse around MacDowell,” the captain stated. “Unfortunate, but it happens. Is that all?”

“Not quite,” Drake drawled. “He was angry about the party, but what really set him off was Mac and Bugalu kissing.”

Jane blinked and turned to her helmsman. “You didn’t tell me you were kissing MacDowell. Is there anything else you left out?”

Bugalu grimaced. “Mac was under the mistletoe, and she didn’t want to kiss Ferguson. If I hadn’t, Ferguson might have insisted, and she would have hit him - her nerves were pretty frayed by then - ” He sighed. “It seemed the... prudent... choice, at the time.”

“It didn’t look like a brotherly kiss,” Drake stated.

Bugs shrugged, trying not to look guilty. “I’m not entirely immune to her.”

“Who aboard is?” Jane quipped.

Bugs shrugged. “Doc, I’ve known her 7... no, 8 years, and that’s only the 4th kiss we’ve shared. I’ve gotten 4 kisses from other women within 2 hours of meeting.”

“That’s why you said ‘four’ at the end of the kiss,” MacGregor stated, and shifted his position. “Still, how many others have gotten even 1 kiss from her?”

“Tall Bear and Smitty,” Jane answered, and urged the conversation onward. “So, Smitty objected to her being kissed while confined--“

“More like he objected to her being kissed. Period,” Drake corrected. “He acted... well, jealous, especially the way he assumed they were headed for bed.” Jane gave a questioning look to Bugalu, who shook his head. Drake went on. “When he heard Bugalu was there at Della’s invitation, he stipulated that Harris could not have visitors during Mac’s confinement, either.”

“Which could be construed as punishing both of them for MacDowell’s transgression,” Jane stated. “Alleged transgression.”

“He also ordered Bugalu not to speak to Mac during discipline,” Drake finished.

“Not to--“ Jane was surprised. “Why not?”

Drake shrugged. “Cutting the competition? The longer she’s aboard, the more... jealous... he acts. And if that’s true, he’s in a hopeless case, because she’s a subordinate, and he won’t date her, no matter how much he might want to.”

“Similar to Sir Lancelot’s conundrum,” Jane commented thoughtfully. “And that didn’t end well.” Jane grunted. “Makes me wonder if it’s a good idea to keep her aboard.”

“Now, just a minute, Jane!” Drake protested.

“Look at it this way, Duck.” She’s got half my senior officers and my entire bridge crew at odds. The whole crew, really. Never before have I known 1 person who could stand an entire ship on its head!”

“Captain,” Takor began.

Jane held up a hand to stop it. “On the other hand, she seems to have some qualities of a good officer. And choosing to transfer her off because of her... appearance... is illegal, not to mention just plain wrong. I’ll speak with Smitty, see if I can’t get him to go easier on her... in the future. But I won’t countermand his orders at this time. They stand.”

“But if she didn’t do it--“ Drake protested.

“We can’t prove that she didn’t,” Jane retorted, and turned to the helmsman. “No offense, Bugalu.”

Bugalu nodded. “Belief isn’t the same as proof.”

“And discipline isn’t always fair,” Jane stated. She stood up. “I wish we could have avoided this additional trouble between those 2, but we didn’t. And now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a bottle of wine I wanted to try this evening. Good night.” Takor got up to leave, also, and Drake wasn’t far behind them.

But Drake paused as he approached the doorway and turned back to Bugalu. “Four kisses? Were they all like tonight’s?”

Bugalu shook his head. “The first 2 almost missed my mouth, and lasted about a nano-second. One when I graduated from the Academy, one when I shipped out a couple days later. Frankly, I hope there aren’t any more of them coming up. I like her fine as a sister.”

“I understand,” Drake said, and wondered if he really did as he headed for his own quarters.