Reporting for Duty Again

Month 16 Day 6

2322 Hours

Ivy Wilson

Ivy was leaving the mess hall when she noticed Mac sitting alone at a corner table, her back to the wall. Wilson disposed of her tray and hurried over. "Mac! What are you doing here?"

Mac looked up from her half-eaten meal and grinned. "About ready to relieve Smythe. Shall we go together?"

"I didn't hear you were released from sick bay! This is great! But, it doesn't look like you're done with breakfast."

The redhead grimaced. "I overestimated my appetite. It's all gone cold." She opened her lidded mug and dumped the rest of her drink in it, then stood up.

"Let me handle your tray," Ivy volunteered, and disposed of it, then met Mac at the exit. "I wasn't sure when they'd let you out of sick bay. Mr Smythe didn't seem to know, either."

Mac grinned. "I'm not sure the doctors knew, when Smythe left me there. There was the... possibility of complications, if they followed the usual treatment methods. So they had to make some adjustments." They got on the lift and sent it to Engineering. "Besides, they had to wait until the Fireball's tailor could get a new uniform made for me. One with enough room for a back full of bandages."

"That's got to be uncomfortable."

"As long as I'm careful how I move, it's not too bad. I think the ointment under the bandages has some analgesic property to it."

"So, does that mean you're on light duty, or what?"

Mac gave a sigh as the doors opened, and they stepped out. "Yes, but it's a strange kind of light duty. I have to go back to sick bay to do my sleeping. Let's wait until I report to Smythe, then I can fill you both in at the same time."

"Oh, yes, of course. What am I thinking?" They entered engineering and headed for the office. "Well, we're here. Where is he?"

"Probably got caught up in doing something," Mac said, and swallowed nervously. "Let's wait in the office. Maybe we'll see him on the monitors."

They entered the office, and Mac gingerly sat at the desk, careful to sit forward to keep her back away from the chair. Ivy studied the various monitors, but didn't catch sight of Mr Smythe, nor of Lt Vojeck, the C shift supervisor. And then, she heard Smythe talking as he approached the open office doorway.

Mac stood up, her hands clasped together, and faced the doorway. Smythe stepped inside and stopped short, his gaze on the redhead. "Colleen," he whispered in surprise. He surged forward, and took her hands in his, a blissful look on his face. "What are you doing here?"

Mac looked surprised, and her voice sounded nervous. "I've been released for light duty, so I've come to relieve you. Basically, I'm supposed to avoid doing anything that hurts my back."

"I didn't expect you," he said. "It sounded like there might be... complications."

She looked down and licked her lips. "Yes, well, they've decided not to use the dermal healing ray on me, so when I'm not on duty, I'll return to sick bay to spend more time with the blue goo. They aren't certain how long a full recovery will take."

"You got your hair done," he noticed. "I like it."

Mac shot a wild, confused glance at Ivy, then pulled a hand free to touch her short curls. "I considered having it all shaved off, but Beth suggested I try this."

"I'm glad you listened to Beth," he told her. "But of course, you would look beau—"

"Mr Smythe," Ivy broke in, aware of Lt Vojeck looking in through the doorway. "Now that you are aware of the conditions of Lt MacDowell's light duty status, are there any specific instructions you want her to do during this shift?"

Smythe gave her a mournful glance and sighed, dropped Mac's remaining hand. "Well, let me think about what needs to be done. So we might as well get started with your briefing." He noticed Mac smoothing down the front of her uniform. His brow crinkled in confusion as his gaze traveled down her form. "As good as it is to see you, Colleen, you seem a bit... disheveled."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. My uniform was put together in a hurry, with extra room for the bandages covering my back. So, between the rush job and not knowing the exact measurements to use, it isn't as tailored as it usually is."

"Bandages," he muttered to himself, and gave her another look-over. "I see."

"I'm afraid my uniform for tomorrow will be equally... un-tailored," Mac went on. "In fact, until I stop needing the bandages—"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Yes, I get the idea. Very well, it's part of your light duty status. Now, let's get the briefing done. Has anybody seen Lt Jamison?"

"I'm right here, Mr Smythe," Jamison said from beyond Lt Vojeck.

"Good. Well, let's all squeeze in here, and Lt Vojeck and I will brief you other three on where things currently stand, with thoughts on what should be tackled next. And share what thoughts we have on what Lt MacDowell's light duty status means she can't do. Right now, I'm thinking she can't do any work in the lowest tier of access panels, because that would probably require her to lay on her back and she's not allowed to do that. Yes, Mr Jamison?"

"I'm not sure she could adjust an EV suit sufficiently to keep it from pressing against her back."

"Good point," Smythe agreed. "And it would be a waste of time when we have other engineers who don't have to make those adjustments. So, Colleen, you're stuck inside and off the floor."

Mac gave a wan smile. "At least you aren't assigning me to paperwork."

Smythe visibly winced. "I might have to do that at some point. I'll have a ton of paperwork to finish up before this is over. Right now, I'm making a verbal tally of everything in the Chief Engineer's log." He paused to hit a 'record' button on the desk, and then the briefing went on.

Yet Another Argument

 Month 16 Day 6

1308 Hours

Drake MacGregor

Drake entered sick bay and walked over to where Beth was preparing to go to lunch. "Beth, is Mac still up?"

Beth turned to face him. "Yes, so far. Bugalu is with her. Otherwise, she'd be in bed."

"Let's hold off on that for a few minutes. She needs her hair styled before she reports for duty tonight." He turned and gestured to the hair stylist standing a few feet away. "Come on, Mr Yates. I hope you can do it in 15 minutes."

"I'll do my best," the man promised.

But when they stepped inside, Drake stopped short, wondering at the strangely shocked look Mac was giving Bugalu. Finally, she spoke. "A woman doesn't marry her brother."

What in space are they talking about? No, he can't be. She doesn't need a Plan C, she's got Plan B... Me! "It's about time you came around to see your sister," he told the helmsman.

"Hello, doc," Bugalu responded. "You know the Fleet doesn't consider us related. But as soon as we heard on the Fireball that Mac had been injured, the captain sent me over to check on her personally. And to deliver a new uniform, so she can report for duty tonight. If that's still the plan."

"It is as far as I know," Drake told him, and waved Mr Yates forward. "Mac, sit up straight, if you can. You need to get a new hairstyle before you report for duty."

Mac eyed the scissors Mr Yates had brought with him and scowled. "He should have brought a razor, to shave off what's left."

"Let him see what he can do with what you've got. If you don't like it, you can always get it shaved later."

She sighed. "Oh, alright. But it won't be the same as having a top-knot."

"Right," Bugalu said. "You won't have loose curls flopping down into your face halfway through your shift."

She gave him a haughty stare. "You mean, a third of the way through my shift. I'm working 12 hour shifts now."

"Only if you're up to it," Drake told her. "If it's too much, come back here. In fact, come here whenever you get off. They'll put more blue goo on your back and you'll sleep on your stomach. In another day or two, we'll see what your back looks like."

"Okay," she agreed sourly. "But I reserve the right to be grumpy about it."

"I'd probably be grumpy, too," Drake told her. "So, what are you 2 talking about? If you don't mind my asking."

"Mac's of the opinion that Mr Smythe doesn't want to marry her anymore. Because of her... condition."

Oh, so she's told him. Makes sense, since he's the closest thing to family she's got within light years. "Well, that doesn't make sense," he stated slowly. "Considering the thoughts he had when he proposed."

"Actually, it's those thoughts that don't make sense," Mac refuted. "But in any case, he's behaved completely different since he brought me into sick bay."

"Maybe he's in shock," Bugalu suggested. "But in any case, she's in a bind, and not a lot of time to figure things out. So I told her if she's right about Smythe, then she can marry me."

"And I can't figure out why I would do that," Mac returned.

Bugs sighed. "Look, we already know we get along. Reasonably well. You could stay in the Fleet, if you want, although you'd probably be sent planet-side for the next 18 years. Still, as a protégé of Smythe's you could have your pick of a number of assignments. Same is true if you leave the Fleet, but you wouldn't necessarily be stuck planet-side. I don't see any down sides to it."

"Then you aren't considering it realistically," she told him. "It isn't fair to you, to tie you down to me. What if Ivy decides she's open to dating again?"

"Ivy," he repeated, and licked his lips. "Don't worry about Ivy."

"Really? Because I thought you two had something before LaPour decided to get serious with her, although he wasn't all that serious, turns out. But okay, then what if another woman comes along, someone you really feel something for?"

Bugalu gave her a blank stare, as if that was something he had never considered.

Now's the time. "A good question," Drake told her. "One he evidently hasn't considered. So think about this. You could marry me. One, I'm more senior than Bugalu, which means more financial stability. And you could stay in the Fleet. I could transfer to one of many planet-side hospitals, or a space station. In either situation, they're likely to find a place for you in the engineering department. Or if you just want to be married, but go our separate ways, I could try and get you a position on a space station, if you don't like the idea of planet-side. And my finances would still keep us both in relative comfort, even if you didn't have your own job."

"That's not fair!" Bugalu declared.

"I'm just presenting possibilities," Drake answered.

In the sudden silence that fell between them, a weak voice came from the other side of the curtain. "Is this a private argument, or can anybody join?"

Mac swore in... some language... under her breath, then raised her voice. "Sorry, Ben. My friends got carried away making ridiculous suggestions!"

"Really? I thought each of them had proposed marriage."

"Well, they did," she admitted. "But only because I'm pregnant." She realized the scissors had stopped cutting, and asked, "Are you done with my hair?"

"Not quite," Yates answered quietly and started his work again.

Without turning her head, Mac looked at Drake. "How exactly did it happen, MacG? You gave me my shot, and I assume you gave Smit his, too."

"I haven't figured that out yet. I've asked for more details of the original studies from the manufacturer."

"Do I understand this right?" Facchini asked. "Smythe is the father?"

"He is," she answered.

"Then shouldn't he be asking you to marry him?"

She sighed. "In a perfect universe, yes. But right now, I'm not sure I'd accept him, either."

"Now I'm done," Yates stated, and used a tiny vacuum to remove any hair that hadn't fallen to the floor.

"Beautiful," Drake stated as he studied the curls that surrounded Mac's pale face.

"Yeah, I like it," Bugalu agreed as Yates made his way out of the ACU.

"Well, good. I guess." Mac told them, and laboriously climbed out of the bent, backless chair. Bugs grabbed the box of boots and the plastic-covered uniform, and slid them under the bed. "Now, Bugsy, you'll have to leave. I think the nurses want to spread more glop on my back and put me to bed. And, MacG—" She turned to face him. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Yes," he agreed. "And now that I've seen you in your new hair style, maybe I can." He turned and headed for the doorway.

"Do you need a hug, Mac?" Bugalu asked.

"Yes," she answered. "But my back is too sore for it. When these repairs are done, and we're all back on the Fireball, you can give me a bunch of hugs."

Drake didn't hear how the helmsman answered that. I can give hugs, too.

Catching Up

Month 16 Day 6

1250 Hours

Bugalu

The St Elmo was the same design as the Fireball, so sick bay was easy to find. Bugsy caught sight of a familiar face sitting at a display console and walked over. "Hello, Beth."

Nurse Temple glanced up from the readouts before her and gave him a friendly smile. "Took you long enough to come looking for Mac."

"Surprisingly, the news of her injury didn't get to the Fireball until you placed the special order for a new uniform for her." He placed the plastic package that typically held a uniform atop the display console. "Special delivery. Captain asked me to look in on her personally."

"Well, you're in luck," Temple told him. "She's got about 10 minutes left before the nurses put her back to bed." She nodded towards the ICU doorway. "Go on in. She'll be glad to see you."

"How bad is she?"

"Some burns along her back that are still healing, but the uniform is so she can be released to light duty tonight at midnight."

"Sounds like she was very lucky. I've heard that diflaxi— that stuff can be really nasty."

"Mr Smythe was there when it happened, and was quick to get her thoroughly dosed with an antitoxin foam. Because you're right, otherwise, she would have been in much worse condition. Now, go ahead, go inside. Help distract her from the healing ray treatment they're giving Mr Facchini in the other half of the room."

Normally he was squeamish about being present during another person's treatment; he'd heard patients could get pretty vocal during a healing ray treatment. But he was eager to see how Mac was doing, so he smiled at Beth, picked up the plastic package again, and went inside ICU.

On the left side of the room, the bed was sloped and bent so that the patient was nearly sitting up straight. One nurse urged him to finish drinking a large drink through a straw while the other nurse put some equipment away. Obviously, that was Mr Facchini, not Mac.

Bugalu turned to where Mac sat in some kind of kneeling chair that wouldn't let her lean against the back, because there was no back to it. He walked forward and tossed the plastic package and the box with her new boots to her bed. "One uniform, special delivery."

Mac raised her head from staring at the floor and used a wadded up tissue to wipe tears off her cheeks. Bugs lost his smile at the sight of her red eyes, and pulled a chair close to sit facing her. "Hey. What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"Yes," she said simply, then, "No. Not physical pain, Bugsy. Not much, anyway." She cast a glance at the curtain that had been pulled to block the view between the 2 beds. "Not nearly as much as Ben's been put through this morning."

She must mean Facchini. Not surprised she's on a first-name basis with him already. But something about the girl struck him as... different. He stood up and took a step sideways so he could get a look at her back. He winced at the wide pink swath down the back of her head that gleamed in its nakedness, then hoped she hadn't seen his wince. He sat down again. "Well, that's new."

She raised a hand as if to touch it, but didn't. "Compliments of Baker."

Should have known he'd be involved somehow. "Temple tells me your injuries could have been worse."

"Oh, yes," she agreed. "I could be dead."

For a moment, he didn't know what to say. The silence of this half of the room was invaded by the noises of the other half, where equipment clicked into its storage space, a nurse encouraged Mr Facchini to try to sleep, and the other bed whirred as it straightened into its usual bed configuration.

"I'm glad you're not," he finally said, and gave her another tissue as tears welled in her eyes. He reached forward and took hold of her hand. "What's got you so upset? Your hair?"

"MacG says that will grow back."

"Okay. Then what is bothering you?"

The nurses in the other half of the room left. Facchini gave a large sigh and settled into silence.

Mac's lips pinched together into a grimace. "Remember that stupid rumor you heard about me a couple months ago?"

There are always rumors about you. "You'll have to be more specific."

"The one that said I was pregnant."

"Oh. That rumor." He gave her hand a little squeeze and leaned back in his chair. "Stupid is definitely the word for that one. Why does that one have you upset now?"

"It's come true. I am pregnant."

He stared at her in disbelief for a long moment. "You can't be."

"If it's not possible, then why are the med beds set up to check for it?" He glanced at the bed that stood beside them. "The bed revealed it as soon as they got me on it. But I was already 99% sure." She gave him a wry smile. "Morning sickness."

"That's all kinds of ironic," he quipped. "You weren't when Smythe proposed, but now you are."

The part that really upsets me is, he walked out as soon as he heard."

"That doesn't make any sense. When he proposed, there was no way it could have been his, but he proposed anyway."

"Yes." She daubed at her eyes.

"When did you tell him?"

"I've been trying to tell him since the shuttle ride over here. But the time was never right. And then, when my back got burned, and he brought me to sick bay... he was here when the diagnosis was made."

"So, now he knows what he only believed before."

"He knows I'm pregnant. He knows I'm not 2 or 3 months along. I'm only at 6 weeks, according to the bed."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm not sure, but he walked out." She glanced past him as someone walked in. "Please, give us a few more minutes."

"Okay, but you need to rest soon, if you're going to work at midnight."

She looked surprised. "I'm going to work tonight?"

"That's why I brought the uniform," Bugsy told her. "It's supposed to have room for the bandages."

She sighed. "That means I have to see him at 2330." She shook her head slowly. "I told him once I didn't care for his personal opinion of me. I can only imagine what he thinks of me now. Ready to toss me out with the garbage, like my father would do. And my brothers."

Anger seethed in Bugsy over this reminder of her male relatives' mentality. "Why do they need to know?"

"What?" She looked up in surprise. "How would I keep it from them?"

"They're light-years away. If you don't tell them you're having a child, how are they going to find out?"

She studied him in confusion. "I write to my mother. How do I do that over the next 20 years and never mention I've had a child?"

"Sounds like you've decided to keep it."

Tears welled and threatened to fall again. She whispered, "This may be the only thing I have to remember him by."

"You seem certain he won't marry you."

"He walked out as soon as he heard when I conceived."

"You'll be released from the Fleet."

She nodded. "I'm decently-trained now. I should be able to find work somewhere."

Well, that's true. All she'd have to do is mention she was protégé to Lt Cmdr Smythe, and doors would open for her. Still, 'unwed mother' is hardly what she wants to be. As soon as her father finds out, he'd forbid any further communication with her. And though she doesn't much care for her father and brothers, it would hurt deeply to lose contact with her mother. "You need a husband," he told her.

"I cancelled that agreement," she reminded him. "I don't see him proposing again."

"Then what about me?"

Another Argument With a Friend

 Month 16 Day 6

1039 Hours

Drake MacGregor

 As soon as the alarm on his bed started to beep, Smitty tapped the button to turn it off, then turned on the dim light in the top of his bunk. Drake forced his eyes open and saw the engineer head for the bathroom. He'd been waiting for Smitty to wake up, and had nearly fallen asleep himself. If I didn't need to get this talk with him over with, I wouldn't have made an effort to stay awake. It's been a long time since I've worked the A shift.

Drake drug himself out of his bed without turning on any more lights, and followed Smitty to the bathroom. He blinked in the bright light as he entered. Smitty was adjusting the controls on the shower, and turned to see who had come in.

"Do you mind, Drake?"

"No, I don't mind," he answered. "And this is a barracks bathroom, Smitty."

"Yes, alright," he stated and turned back to his shower.

"We need to talk," Drake told his friend.

Smitty gave him a brief look of confusion. "About what?"

Drake paused to lock the bathroom door, which wasn't usually done for a barracks bathroom, but he was hoping to keep their conversation private. "We've narrowed down when Mac got pregnant."

Smitty scowled. "Sometime in the last 6 weeks. Yes. I was there."

"You didn't stick around for all of our discussion," Drake pointed out. "The machine says about 6 weeks, because that's about the right timing for the size the fetus is. But the first 1 to 3 weeks of that timeline is the female's body getting ready to be pregnant, if an egg gets fertilized."

"I've been through that class, MacGregor." The engineer sounded impatient.

"Well, Mac knows exactly when it happened, because it's the only night she's ever had sex."

Smitty stopped lathering up and turned his head to stare at him. "She says it's my child?"

Don't like the stubborn look he's got in his eyes. Has he been down this road before, with another woman who claimed her child was his? Not in the time I've known him, but there's years before that. "She says it happened the night before you two were to be married. She further says that you're the only man she's ever been with. Sexually."

"Oh. Well, if she says it, that must make it true," Smitty said tightly.

Blast, he's in full-blown denial. Drake stepped closer to the showers. "Smitty, have you ever had sex with her?"

Smitty frowned at him. "Yes," he finally admitted.

"And was it on the eve of the day you two were going to get married?"

Smitty turned off the shower and grabbed his towel. "Yes," he admitted again. "But... I don't know who she was with before she came to my quarters."

Full-blown denial. But why? When he proposed to her, he already thought she was pregnant! "Why does it matter, Smitty? When you proposed, you thought she was pregnant, and you didn't seem to care."

"I didn't," he admitted. "But I told her that any other children born to our marriage would be mine! And now, here she is, trying to pass this one off as mine, just so I'll marry her!"

"Smitty, she called off the marriage," Drake reminded him. He was gratified that Smitty stopped drying himself, at least momentarily. Maybe that got through to him, a little, at least. "Maybe she didn't like something you said that night. Like believing the stupid rumors that she was pregnant. Which she wasn't."

"Well, she is now." He wrapped the towel around himself. "And claiming it's mine. So, are we done here?"

Okay, then, if he's going to be stubborn, then it's on to Plan B. He stood up straighter and smiled. "Yeah, I guess we are. Thank you, Smitty. Now I can propose to her!"

"You!"

"Why not?" he asked. "I've been divorced a number of years. About time I settled down, try not to make the same mistakes again."

"You've never mentioned wanting to get married!"

"Well, neither did you, before you suddenly proposed to Mac. Doesn't mean I've never thought about it. I'm getting a little old to be gallivanting around the galaxy. I could ask to be transferred to any planet-side hospital, or even a space station. Surely the Fleet could use an engineer with her talents in that kind of environment, and she wouldn't need to be completely sidelined for 18 years while the child grew up."

"She's the same age as your daughter!"

He gave Smitty a pained look. "Well, I'm not quite that old. No, she's a few years older than my daughter. Maybe they could be friends." He smiled even more broadly. "Yeah, I like that idea. Assuming we're not somewhere halfway across the galaxy or something.

"You can't marry her!" Smitty declared. "She agreed to marry me!"

"And then she cancelled that agreement," Drake reminded him again. "Which didn't seem to please you at the time, I admit. But you can't have it both ways, Smitty. If you don't want her—and from what you've said, the way you're behaving, it certainly seems like you don't—then you can't keep her from accepting somebody else. Like me." He unlocked the bathroom door and left, returned to the bed next to where Smitty had been sleeping, and turned in, his back turned to the dim light coming from Smitty's bed.

Well, now I've done it, I suppose. If Smitty stubbornly decides he's not going to be 'trapped' into marriage, then I'll have to propose to her. And what's wrong with that? It would certainly solve her immediate problem. All of what I told Smitty was true, except I was thinking of asking for the transfer in another 5 years or so. No, seems to me there's a lot more positives to this plan than there are negatives.

Smitty came from the bathroom and went to his bed to get dressed. Several times, he sighed, and once, Drake felt Smitty staring at his back, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't think what. Eventually, the bed light went out, Smitty left, and Drake settled into sleep.