Dealing With the Pieces & The Morning After

Dealing With The Pieces

Month 11 Day 1

0505 Hours

Ivy Wilson

Ivy lifted Bugalu’s arm off her torso and started to climb out of bed. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked sleepily, trying to pull her back.

“Oh, no,” she half joked, catching his reaching arm and returning it to the mattress beside him. “I want to get to my own room without being seen.”

He opened his eyes and sat up to watch her dress in the 10% setting of his bedroom lights. “That’s never been a big concern of yours before,” he stated.

“No,” she admitted. “But I saw the captain chew a few officers out last night. And I decided one of my New Year’s resolutions was to be more discrete.”

“You are the soul of discretion,” he told her.

“Maybe, when it comes to other people’s affairs,” she returned. “But everybody knows my sex life nearly as well as I do. And compared to what’s known about the sex life of... oh, MacGregor... or Smythe. Suddenly, I don’t seem very discrete anymore.”

“So you’re leaving early.”

“I appreciate your understanding,” she said with a smile. She bit her lip and went on. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to be more discrete. You are close to the possibility of promotion.”

He was quiet as she fastened her dress uniform pants. “You’re probably right,” he finally agreed softly.

“I don’t propose you give up dating, but you could tone down the public displays of affection when you are on a date.”

He frowned thoughtfully at that suggestion and changed the subject. “When can I see you again?”

She grinned as she smoothed her hair with her hands. “I’m not sure. I’m pretty busy the next couple of weeks. But I imagine you are, too.”

“Well, we’ll see.” He smiled. “Ivy, you know I really enjoy spending time with you.”

“And being with you is fun,” she agreed. Having gotten mostly dressed, she gathered the rest of her uniform and leaned down to give him a quick kiss. “Go back to sleep. You could still get another hour or 2 of rest.”

“Or you could climb back in with me,” he suggested.

She chuckled. “You’re hopeless.” She turned and left. I was kind of hoping I might be more than ‘enjoyable’. No, if I’m going for a promotion, that will probably mean a transfer, so I’d best not get too involved with anyone. Cool your jets, Ivy. After all, LaPour was a complete bust.

She realized someone was coming towards her, around the curve of the corridor, and did her best to stare straight ahead, trying not to look at him as they passed. He looked as tousled and disheveled as she no doubt did, but like her, he ignored her. Smythe! She refused to look back to double-check. No one would ever hear from her that she’d seen him headed home after a night of sex. But it didn’t keep her from wondering... Who in space has he been with?

The Morning After

Month 11 Day 1

0706 Hours

Della Harris

Della turned from pulling a uniform from her closet as Mac entered their bedroom from the living room. Mac still wore her red dress from the night before, but it was limp, wrinkled and bits of... stuff clung to it, just like her hair. Her makeup was an absolute mess. “Where have you been?” Della demanded. “I could see your bed hadn’t been slept in, and I’ve been worried sick—” She stopped as Mac turned her head and glared at her. “Oh, right. None of my business. Sorry.”

Mac raised the bottle she held and finished its contents, then staggered across the room to toss the bottle in the disposal. Another one? Space, that must be the 12th since shore leave. That I know of. We’re only allowed 3. Where does she get them?

Mac sat down heavily on her bed and kicked her heels off. “I’ve been in the arboretum.” Her speech was pretty slurred. She fell back across her bed.

So, more than 12, because she doesn’t get that drunk on just one bottle. 13? 14? Hard to tell. Now Della could tell that the stuff clinging to Mac was various bits of plant material. “You may have ruined that dress,” she stated softly.

“Probably,” Mac agreed, and laboriously climbed back off the bed. Once standing, she silently asked Della to unfasten the back of her dress, then she let it fall to the floor and crawled back onto the bed.

She must have had a night of it. Whether it was good or bad, though, I can’t tell. “You were very popular last night,” Della remarked. But there were only a select few she would agree to dance with. “Did you have fun?”

The redhead actually shuddered. “Mixed bag,” she groaned. “Followed by an even worse mixed bag.” She opened her eyes slightly to consider her roommate. “Don’t let me keep you from getting dressed, Della.”

“Oh, right.” She returned to the process that had been interrupted. I can take a hint. She doesn’t want to talk. She’s either super discrete, or had a rotten time.

“Della, what should I wear for a date?”

“What?” Della turned in surprise, her uniform tunic only half fastened. She hurried over and bounced down onto the edge of Mac’s bed. “Who with?”

Mac frowned and grabbed her pillow, her face going a little green. “Tall Bear.”

“Bear! Good choice!”

“I hope so,” Mac moaned, and then muttered, “I’d rather not go out at all.”

She’d rather not go out with Bear? What kind of super man does she think she’s waiting for? “Then why are you?”

“Bugs thinks it’s a good idea,” Mac stated and waved the question away. “It’s complicated. Just tell what I should wear.”

“That depends. What kind of date is it?”

“A friendly date.”

Confused, Della stood up and continued dressing. “No, I meant, what are the planned activities for the date?”

“Oh, dinner and a movie.”

A friendly date. With Tall Bear. I suppose that means she isn’t trying to dazzle him with her beauty. Not that she has to try. “Well, any nice blouse and skirt, I suppose.” Does she own any skirts? I was so surprised when she pulled out that dress last night. “Or slacks. A nice blouse and slacks.”

“You mean, like I normally wear when I’m off duty?” Her voice was soft, like she was drifting off.

“Yeah, that should be fine.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Sure, Mac. What are roomies for?” She glanced at the redhead, and realized she was sound asleep. Then her eyes fell on the clock on Mac’s bedside table. Yikes, I’d better get moving. She took a brush to her hair, applied a minimum of makeup, told the computer to lock the quarters behind her, and left. I hope Mac’s starting to date won’t complicate Smythe’s project he’s got me working on. Well, it shouldn’t. There’s no way Tall Bear would act anything like Adams and Evans have been.