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.