In the Brig

Month 11 Day 3

0938 Hours

Jane Burke

 

When Jane and Tall Bear approached the brig, 2 guards stood outside the doorway. The woman wasn’t in uniform, but it was clear she belonged there just as much as the man. It was the woman-- Zhang, if Jane remembered correctly--who stopped them before they entered. “Sir,” she addressed Tall Bear, “I’m not sure you should enter. The sight of a male seems to agitate the prisoner. When Ensign Ellis here accompanied Nurse Temple in, MacDowell jumped to her feet and got in a fighting position.”

 

“Sounds like she’s still spooked,” Jane stated.

 

“Can’t blame her,” Tall Bear returned. “Winthrop was seemingly unstoppable. We had 4 men trying to hold him back, and he was still trying to tear her clothes off.”

 

“That sounds like an assumption, Lieutenant.”

 

“Captain, I observed that every time he got a hand on her, her uniform tore. Every time he missed getting a hold on her, he threw something out of his way; computer, desk, chair, whatever came to hand. Her quarters—at least the living room portion of it—is a complete shambles.”

 

“Have you put it off limits until you can check for evidence?” Jane asked.

 

“Of course,” he responded. “I’m going there as soon as I’m done here.”

 

“But being here won’t do you any good if she’s too upset to talk. Ensign Ellis, which holding cell is MacDowell in?”

 

“Number one.”

 

“If you stay just inside the doorway, you should be able to hear what she says without her seeing you. That is, if you trust me with the initial interview.”

 

“I don’t think we can do much of an interview until we get her calmed down,” Tall Bear returned. “Maybe I should call in Dr Fong.”

 

“Unfortunately, Dr Fong is a man,” Jane reminded him. “Let me go in. MacDowell is on friendly terms with Nurse Temple. Perhaps the nurse has started the calming process.” Tall Bear nodded his agreement, and they stepped through the doorway. Bear stopped there; Jane walked over to join Hernandez and Temple. MacDowell, she noticed, was on the bed in holding cell 1, her legs bent and her head on her knees, a blanket draped around everything below her head.

 

“How is she?” Jane asked Temple.

 

“Lots of bruises and scrapes. There may be a cracked rib. I don’t think there’s any internal bleeding, but I can’t get her to lay down for a proper reading.”

 

“Can you give me any clues about her mental state?”

 

“Well, there’s lots of adrenaline in her system, which is rather unusual, as it doesn’t tend to stick around very long. However, any time she sees a man, she’s immediately ready to fight. If there’s no man present, she’s almost... catatonic. As you can see, she’s nearly in a fetal position. If there is a cracked rib, that may be as close as she can get. She’s slow to respond to a female voice, but she does, eventually. Underneath that blanket, she’s quivering. I’d say she’s in an extended period of the ‘fight or flight syndrome’, and right now, she can’t do either one. Give her a chance, a reason, and she might calm down.”

 

“Does she need Dr Fong?”

 

“I think that would be a mistake at this time. His gender would most likely prolong the adrenaline rush she’s in. A sympathetic listener who could gently guide her towards logic while accepting her emotional state would probably be more helpful at this point. Later, maybe...”

 

“You sound like a voice of experience.”

 

“I did a stint as an ER nurse, and that did include dealing with rape victims.”

 

“Has she been--“

 

“No. But in her head, that’s what she was fighting to prevent.”

 

And if Duck’s right, she probably was. “Thank you, nurse.” She turned to the young guard manning the controls. “What’s she listening to?”

 

“Rain,” Hernandez answered. “I assume they have rain on Gaelund.”

 

“Have that fade away and try bird songs. Birds often lift a mood. And open the mike so she can hear me.”

 

Jane walked over and stood just outside the force field that kept the lieutenant contained. “Lt MacDowell.” The rain sounds coming from inside the cell were fading, as if the rain was ending.

 

At first, there was no response from the redhead to the captain’s voice, but after a long moment, MacDowell’s head turned, and then rose from her knees. “Oh. Captain.” She lowered a leg to the floor, preparatory to standing.

 

“No, don’t get up,” Jane told her. “Nurse Temple says you might have internal injuries, and if so, we don’t want to aggravate anything.”

 

“Temple?” the redhead asked, and flicked a glance behind the captain. “Oh. Beth.”

 

“I understand you’ve been through a lot of turmoil this morning. Beth would really like to conduct a more thorough exam.”

 

“Just Beth?”

 

“I think she’s capable. Don’t you?”

 

“Yes, but... usually it’s a doctor, isn’t it?”

 

“MacGregor is busy right now. I thought Beth could do a basic exam. If she finds anything she can’t handle, we can wake up Dr Davis.”

 

“Peg,” MacDowell said, as if translating the last name into the name she used for the person mentioned. “Yes, that’s okay.”

 

“So you don’t mind if Beth comes in and does a more thorough exam?”

 

“Are there any men around?”

 

“They’ve all been sent away,” Jane lied.

 

The redhead took a deep shuddering breath. “Okay. Send her in.”

 

“Hernandez, let Nurse Temple into the cell,” Jane instructed.

 

The force field visibly crackled and then was gone. Temple stepped inside and started her exam as the force field crackled back into place. With some assistance, MacDowell managed to lay down, although she grimaced a time or two as she did it. Even though there were only women present, Temple was careful to keep the blanket draped over MacDowell.

 

After several slow and steady waves of the medical recorder over MacDowell’s body, Temple breathed a sigh of relief. “No cracked bones, no major internal bleeding. Just a lot of bruises and scrapes.”

 

“Document all of them,” Jane instructed. “The shape, pattern, intensity, all could help us reconstruct what happened.”

 

“I can tell you what happened,” MacDowell stated. “I went home to go to bed. Winthrop was waiting for me. I don’t know how he got in. He wanted sex. I told him no. We fought. Then security came in, tried to make me stop. I thought they were helping him. Somebody said he was down, and they stopped fighting, so I did, too.”

 

“That’s a very... dry recitation,” Jane commented.

 

“It’s what I remember. Not individual blows; I was too busy. All my effort was aimed at Winthrop, I just tried to push the others out of my way.” She paused as a tear flowed down her face. “I’m sorry, captain, if I say any more, I’m liable to get hysterical. Beth, my heart’s racing, is that normal?”

 

“Considering what you’ve been through, yes,” Temple answered. “Just lay there and take deep breaths. You’ve still got a lot of adrenalin in your system. It’s time to let go of that. Deep breaths. Calming thoughts.”

 

“Any chance I could get something to wear?”

 

“I’ll see that something gets brought shortly,” Jane promised. “Would you like a D uniform?” D uniforms were worn by technicians, but lieutenants were allowed to wear them when circumstances called for it. Jane thought long pants and a turtle-neck tunic might be more comforting than shorts and cleavage.

 

MacDowell hesitated. “I don’t have any D uniforms.”

 

“I’ll send for something. You will need to make a statement, a formal declaration of what happened. And it may become necessary to consult with the ship’s attorney.”

 

“I understand that,” MacDowell said with a short nod. “Meaning I’ll have to deal with men.”

 

“The crew is roughly 2/3 male,” Jane reminded her.

 

MacDowell cleared her throat. “And most of them are okay,” she stated, repeated it, as if trying to convince herself.

 

Jane turned her attention to Temple, who had taken a seat on the bed near MacDowell’s head. “Nurse, are you ready to come out?”

 

“I’d prefer to stay here for now, captain,” was the answer. “I know some calming exercises I can guide Mac through. And she’ll probably need help getting dressed; her body is already beginning to stiffen.”

 

“Very well.” Jane turned to leave the brig.

 

“Captain,” MacDowell called, and Jane turned back. “I want to file charges against Lt Cmdr Winthrop for attempted rape.” Her voice was like stone. If she had been determined to protect herself against Winthrop’s advances, she was equally determined now.

 

“Noted,” Jane said. “All the more reason to gather all the evidence and make a thorough statement.”

 

MacDowell’s hand reached up and took hold of Temple’s hand. “I’m right here,” Temple said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Jane walked out, taking Tall Bear with her.

Overdose

Month 11 Day 3

0910 Hours

Jane Burke

When Jane approached sick bay, she saw Tall Bear coming from the other direction, saw that he stopped to tug a boot into place and pull his uniform tunic down from being bunched around his waist. He’s normally asleep this shift. “Captain,” he greeted her. “We’ve had to break up a fight between 2 crew members. Commander Winthrop is in sick bay. I’ve had Lt MacDowell taken to the brig.”

She nodded her acknowledgement. “I’m sorry you were awakened, but if Winthrop was involved, you pretty much had to take over the investigation. Abdulla said it sounded like a brawl. Do you have any idea what started it?”

“Not at this time. All I know is it took all of us to try to get them separated, without any success, before Winthrop was knocked unconscious. And MacDowell will need a replacement uniform. The one she was wearing was pretty... well... shredded.”

“What about Winthrop’s attire?”

If he was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. “Disheveled.”

“Well, let’s go see what the doctor can tell us, if anything. Or if Winthrop has regained consciousness.” They walked in together. They entered the sick bay lobby and then the exam room, where the unconscious Winthrop was strapped into the exam table. 2 security guards stood nearby.

“He’s still unconscious, sirs,” one of the guards reported, and added, “MacDowell must pack quite a wallop.”

“She can,” Tall Bear confirmed. “I was surprised she didn’t end the fight long before we got there. Take your positions in the lobby.”

“I wonder where Dr MacGregor is?” Jane asked.

“Of all the stupid, idiotic things a man could do to himself!” Duck declared as he stormed into the exam room from the labs further back. He calmed down upon seeing the newcomers. “Don’t get too close to him, J- Captain. Your rank won’t mean anything to him if he wakes up.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s under the influence of a drug commonly called ‘doit’. And I use the common name because its chemical name is about 6 meters long and I can’t even pronounce it. It’s supposed to be a sex enhancer.”

“You didn’t know he was taking it?” she asked in surprise.

“If I had, I would have turned him in. It’s black market stuff. It was approved for medical use several years ago, but over time, it proved to be accumulative with each use. And addictive from the very beginning. Eventually, and now we’re into the theory of what happens when a man continues to use it, the man overdoses and loses all control. He attacks his chosen prey like an animal and won’t stop until he’s finally satisfied, which could take hours.” He turned his attention to Tall Bear. “I commend your people for being able to knock him out and get him here.”

“That wasn’t us,” TB stated. “That was MacDowell. I think. I still need to figure out exactly what happened. But we were just trying to separate them.”

“Since he’s not going to ‘get satisfied’ this time, how long before the drug wears off?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t find any information in the papers, only theories and speculation. And those were based on very little scientific evidence.”

“Well, detox him, then.”

“That’s one thing I did find mentioned in the papers. Detox has no effect on doit users.”

“You said it was accumulative. You’ve hinted that this wasn’t his first time using it. Why haven’t you noticed it in his system before this?”

“Because between doses, it lies dormant in the fatty tissues and isn’t noticeable. That’s why it took so long to discover that it is accumulative.”

“There must be some way you can counteract the drug, get it out of his system.”

“There’s no known counteracting drug. If there was one, the lab could make some. So I’m stuck trying to remove it, which may or may not work. I’m going to try dialysis. It’s an old-fashioned method of scrubbing toxins and other chemicals out of the blood. The technicians are pulling the old machine out of mothballs and getting it ready to use, but the procedure will take time. At least 4 hours. And I can’t guarantee the drug -at least some of it - won’t go dormant and reside in the fatty tissue even after dialysis is done.”

“But if he doesn’t get any more doses of it, does that matter?”

“I don’t know. Like all addictive drugs, the more times they take it, the more frequently they take it. He probably has a supply of it somewhere.”

“We’ll keep an eye open when we search his quarters,” Bear stated somberly.

“And the papers did include one case where the patient no longer had access to doit, but what was in his system went undormant, uh, became active, again.”

“That doesn’t sound like a lot of information,” Jane remarked.

“That’s all I’ve got to work with, Jane. Papers full of anecdotes and theories but scarce of actual facts. When it was shown to be addictive and accumulative, it was pulled from the shelves, and nobody had the freedom to conduct any more studies on how bad it could get.” A technician came in from the labs with a 2-foot cube of a machine on a rolling table. “Here’s the dialysis machine. Let me get to work.”

“Keep me—both of us—apprised of your progress,” Jane told him. “And Tall Bear will need to interview him as soon as he’s able.” Then she and Tall Bear turned and left.

A Security Emergency

Month 11, Day 3

0833 Hours

Abdulla

It was not at all unusual that Abdullah had a song stuck in her head this morning. She thought she had heard this particular song at the New Year’s Eve dance, because it seemed to be a waltz, not the kind of music she usually listened to at all. But all thoughts of music were swept away when she heard, “Security to deck 4 for an unknown problem.”

“Captain, security is sending a team to deck 4,” she reported, oblivious that she had interrupted a conversation between the captain and Takor. “No indication what the problem is yet.”

“Very well. Keep me apprised of their progress, lieutenant.”

She knew that deck 4 was not a huge deck. There was a briefing room and a few junior officer quarters. Abdulla started listening to various microphones scattered around the deck, whether they were turned on or not.

Silence.

Silence.

“She’ll come to her senses. It’s only a matter of...”

Silence. Snoring. Silence. Footsteps. Silence.

“I thought maybe the blue scarf...”

Silence. Silence. Silence.

“Get out!” A frantic cry, followed by a loud thud. Mac’s voice, frantic and panicky.

“You bitch, you’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Startled, Abdulla made note of the quarters with that altercation, then quickly checked all the rest of the microphones, which were devoid of any sounds that might require security. She opened the security channel. “Security, check quarters 42 on deck 4.”

“We’re there,” someone answered, and she heard a door sliding open and a crash before the channel went dead.

“42? That’s Mac’s quarters,” Capac stated.

“Any idea what the problem is, Abdulla?” the captain asked.

“It sounded like a fight, captain,” she stated reluctantly, not wanting to spread unsubstantiated rumors.

Capac shook his head. “Bugalu should know better than to push her when she’s irritable.”

“No, it didn’t sound like an argument with Bug- uh, Bugalu.” Not just an argument. And definitely not with Bugsy!

The lights suddenly brightened 3 times in rapid succession, followed by 3 quick blares of the alarm. “All security hands, Deck 4, quarters 42. All security personnel, Deck 4, quarters 42!”

The captain turned in her seat and frowned. “That sounds like more than just a simple argument,” she stated.

Any fight somebody stupidly started with Mac should have been ended almost before it started. She is a heavy worlder, and has the muscles to show for it. Abdullah tried to listen to the microphone in quarters 42, but it wasn’t responding. There was another in the hallway a few feet away from quarters 42, and from there, she could hear grunting, thuds and even some furniture breaking. It sounded like a bar brawl. And Mac’s voice, yelling at someone to leave her alone, to keep their hands off her. And then another voice saying, “Man Down!”

Tall Bear’s voice loudly said: “Everybody stop!” When the noise quieted down, he went on. “Hernandez, Zhang, get Mac a blanket so she can cover herself, and then stand guard on her. All the men, stand on the other side of the room.”

“Bear, you’ve seen what she’s done to Winthrop!” someone objected.

Winthrop! That’s the voice I heard speaking so ugly to Mac! If he wasn’t afraid of hurting her - and it didn’t sound like he cared - his combat skills might have negated Mac’s strength.

“I saw that the 2 of them were in an all-out fight. And none of us could make either of them stop until Winthrop was knocked out. From what Mac was screaming, she was in a panic, thought she had to protect herself from rape. That’s why I’ve assigned her female guards and given her a blanket to cover herself. Now, we have to figure out exactly what happened.”

“Lieutenant, do you have any idea who MacDowell might be... arguing with?” The captain was as curious as anyone.

“I’m afraid it was--“ She stopped to listen to security channel chatter for a moment. “They’ve called for a medical team.”

More concerned now, the captain nodded in acknowledgement. “Who did it sound like? When you heard what was happening?”

“It was Commander Winthrop. The medical team was for him.”

Captain sighed. “Okay.”

“Just a moment.” She caught a brief exchange between Tall Bear and sick bay. “Now they’ve called for Nurse Temple. Apparently, Mac- MacDowell is in some kind of panicked frenzy and won’t let anyone but women get close to her. Tall Bear’s making arrangements for them to take her to a holding cell.”

“And Winthrop?”

“I assume he’ll be taken to sick bay. She seems to have knocked him out.”

“Very well. Takor, you have the bridge. I’ll be in sick bay, and then the brig.” Abdulla wished she could go with her, to find out exactly what had happened. Instead, she was stuck on the bridge, listening to any security channel chatter than might happen, but that didn’t seem likely.

Since this was Bugalu’s day off, maybe he’d know what had happened and all the juicy details by the end of shift. Or, if she was lucky, by lunch time.

And this stupid waltz kept playing in her head, completely out of touch with the world around her. She knew Winthrop’s reputation, had heard stories about young women on the ship and the way he’d treated them. She’d even been subjected to his leering and lewd suggestions. But nobody - that she knew of - had ever tried to fight him off before.

Impatient & The Evening After

Impatient

Month 11 Day 1

0730 Hours

Jane Burke

“There he is,” Jane muttered to her companion as she accepted her breakfast cup of coffee from the beverage dispenser. “In the far corner.”

“He beat us here?” Duck asked. Usually, Smitty caught up to them somewhere on the way here, sometimes he arrived a minute or two after them, but this was the first time in... a long time that he had beaten them to the messhall.

Smitty didn’t look up when they sat down, but continued to stare at his pancakes. “You okay?” Duck asked him. “You don’t usually leave food untouched like that.”

Smitty glanced at the doctor, blushed, and returned to staring at his breakfast. “I’m fine,” he stated shortly.

He doesn’t sound fine to me. He sounds mighty uptight about something. I suppose he expects me to chew him up for his behavior last night. And by rights, I should. So, how do I let him know that I didn’t ‘see’ anything? Even though it was my elbow that poked him so firmly when he completely forgot himself. “Well, I think that New Year’s Eve dance went fairly well last night,” Jane stated brightly. “Other than Winthrop, I only had to talk to 3 or 4 crewmembers about their behavior. That’s not bad. I hate having to be the bad guy all night.” No reaction. I wonder if anything I’ve said has sunk into his head at all. She reached out and touched his hand, which he jerked away in surprise. “Thanks for helping me separate Duck from MacDowell, Smitty. Turned out he only danced with her that time to keep her from having to dance with, uh--“

“Adams,” Duck offered.

At the mention of the midnight engineer, Smitty’s eyes flashed in anger for a second, and then his eyebrows puckered together. “I need to do something about that,” he muttered

What private world is he in? He certainly isn’t here with us. “We are doing something about it,” she reminded him. “Surely you haven’t forgotten all our carefully made plans. In another week or two—”

“It can’t wait another week or two,” he declared.

She kept her own voice calm and low; she didn’t want to discuss this in the messhall, but if they had to, then they should pretend it was simple chitchat. “We knew this would not be a quick fix. I want all the t’s crossed and i’s dotted, or it might not work out the way we want.”

“What are you two talking about?” Duck asked blandly.

Smitty glanced around them and finally cut into his pancakes. His voice was almost a whisper when he spoke again. “But I found out last night that while we’ve been doing... what we’re doing, she’s been piping the audio from the bridge to... anyplace else on the ship. Except to the senior officers. The entire ship might know by now what she has to go through! And that makes me look like an incompetent officer, to allow that to go on!”

“She does what?” Jane forgot to keep her voice low in her surprise, so she merely acknowledged it. “That’s a surprise,” she said normally, and held up a finger to keep him from saying anything while she took a drink of coffee. Then she was bland and quiet when she began talking again. “When did she start that?”

“I don’t know, but it’s got to stop, and it’s got to stop now! I won’t be made to look a fool!”

There he goes, blaming MacDowell again, when the whole situation wouldn’t be a situation if those two men had better control of their behavior. “If their behavior doesn’t reflect well on you, it reflects even worse on me. I’ll see what I can find out about this, but you sit tight. I still want the noose nice and tight when we pull on it.”

“But Captain--!”

“That’s enough,” she told him calmly. “We’ll discuss this later, in my office, if you can’t find some patience.”

Smitty frowned at his plate and stabbed a piece of pancake. “Yes, captain.”

“What a fascinating conversation we’re having this morning,” Duck stated cheerfully. “I just hope it isn’t about anything I should know about?”

“Not yet,” Jane told him. “Maybe later.”

Their table settled into a nervous, unsettled lack of conversation for a couple minutes before Smitty—with less than half his meal eaten—rose to his feet. “I’m going to go check on something.”

Jane watched him leave; he paused to make a statement to Della Harris on his way out. Harris looked mildly worried as she quickly finished her breakfast.

Not a word about his behavior last night. Not where he disappeared to after that fiasco of ‘rescuing’ MacDowell from Drake, nor why he didn’t come back when he got himself under control. Sooo, does his anger this morning indicate some guilt over how he behaved last night? Which he’s projecting onto MacDowell?

The Evening After

Month 11 Day 1

2331 Hours

Dr Margaret Davis

Peggy was in her office, looking forward to the end of her shift when a figure in a red uniform appeared in her doorway. “You got a minute, Doc?”

It was Mac, who rarely made an appearance in sick bay this close to the start of her work shift, but when she did... “Come on in. Take a seat.” The redhead did as she was told, and lay her arm on the end of Peggy’s desk, palm upward. Peggy waved her medical recorder over the arm and winced at the readout. “When did you stop drinking?”

“About 7 this morning. Bugsy woke me about 5:30 this afternoon. We’ve been playing games in the rec hall, and I just had lunch.”

“Bugalu didn’t know how much you’d had to drink?”

“No,” Mac replied.

She goes for weeks without needing this, and then—despite her efforts to sleep it off—she needs it. Peggy shook her head slightly, readied the proper dose of de-toxicant and administered it. “I won’t ask you how you do it, but I do wonder why you do it.”

Mac leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, her hand now gripping the edge of Peggy’s desk. “Oh, you know. Cultural baggage that elicits an emotional overload.”

“Perhaps you need to talk to somebody about that. The baggage as well as the overload.”

“It’s hard to impress on people how big the baggage is, so they don’t understand the overload,” Mac answered, and opened her eyes as her body relaxed. “I even have trouble talking about it with Bugs, and he already knows about the baggage. He’s tried to help me unpack it many times, but... it’s still with me. It just doesn’t rear its ugly head nearly as often.”

“Then maybe you need a professional to help you.”

Mac sighed. “Maybe I just need to give up any hope.”

“Hope about what?”

“About... Oh, I probably should. After all, I went against all of Gaelunde’s traditions when I left to join the Fleet. Why should I now try to reclaim some of them?” Green eyes turned to Peggy. “Are you done with me?”

She ran her recorder over the girl’s arm again. “Yes. You are now fit to report to work.”

“Good. Thanks, Doc.”