Bump in the Road & More Hands to Help

 Bump in the Road

Month 16 Day 7

2358 Hours

Smitty

After the others stepped out of the office, Colleen gave a soft sigh and told him, "I never actually told you I'd marry you."

Shocked, Smitty exclaimed, "But you have to!" At once, he realized what that sounded like, especially to outsiders, and turned to shut the office door. "No, I don't mean that the way it sounded. You must do what's best for you and the child, of course, but I hope that includes me. I need and want you in my life in a big way. You and that little bundle you carry. I can't imagine my life without you and the child in it, intimately part of it." He paused as a vague idea of what life would be like hit him. He cleared his throat and admitted, "Well, I can, but it's pretty bleak."

There was silence for a second before she spoke. "That's a huge turn-around, practically overnight. From not wanting anything to do with... us, to what you've just said. How am I supposed to... believe it?"

He considered the question for a long moment. "It's from the heart. I meant every word of it. What do you want me to do? How can I prove myself?"

"I don't know," she answered simply. "You... described an option for going forward, once. It involved a ship-building station."

"I thought it the best option for us," he answered. "But if you don't like the idea..."

"It didn't sound... horrible," she stated. "Frankly, I don't know what options I might have. I know the Fleet doesn't allow children living on their ships, so I will have to find a job either planet-side or on a station somewhere, and I don't know how to find one of those, or how to tell if it's a good fit for me. Or how to land such a job. My whole future is completely unknown. I haven't got a clue how to proceed, in any direction." A tear slid down her cheek.

Smitty swallowed. "I could hunt up other options for you. Us. We could discuss the possibilities."

She considered that and then nodded slowly. "That would help."

He wanted to step closer and hug her, but her back didn't need that kind of pressure, and he wasn't sure how she was feeling towards him right now. "If we're discussing options, I suppose I should point out that you could go to MacGregor and... have the fetus removed."

She shook her head. "I'm not inclined to consider that."

He sighed in relief. "Good. I'm relieved. Then I'll set to work on what other options you have."

"Thank you, Smit. That means a lot to me."

 

 More Hands to Help

Month 16 Day 8

0854 Hours

Abdulla

Abdulla caught sight of a certain redhead almost as soon as she entered the St Elmo's engineering department. She veered over to approach the warp alcove and hissed in sympathy when she saw the stripe of angry skin up the back of Mac's head.

"Hello, Abs," Mac greeted her. "Caught sight of my seared scalp, did you? Don't worry, it doesn't hurt much anymore. I'm hoping the hair might start growing back before I return to the Fireball."

"We heard you'd been hit with some diflaxibrophine, but that you were back to light duty already. Nobody mentioned you'd lost some hair. Are you doing this alcove on your own?"

"No, Ivy's helping," Mac answered as she tightened the restraints to hold the 3rd crystal in position. "She did all the upper access panels I couldn't easily reach, and now she's working on the bottom access panels."

"I'm almost done," Ivy's muffled voice came from inside the console. "So, you couldn't resist a total rebuild, eh, Abdulla?"

"Well, you know, it's something different from working communications. So, what do you need me to do?"

"Want to tackle a nacelle?" Mac asked. "It's airtight, but hasn't even had any diagnostics run yet."

"By myself?"

"I don't think so," Mac answered, and turned from the crystal mechanism. "Let's find Lt Zolka and see if he's got a team together yet. I'll be back shortly, Ivy."

"Take your time," Ivy answered.

The 2 women walked to the office, where Mac operated the intercom and requested, "Lt Zolka, please report in."

It only took a moment to get a response. "Lt Zolka. What do you need, Mac?"

"Have you put together a team to work on the starboard nacelle?"

"Ah, I've got an ensign, a technician, and me. I don't suppose anybody else has finished up whatever they were working on, have they?"

"Not that I know of, but I'm sending you help anyway. Lt Abdulla of the Fireball. Don't let her communications uniform fool you; if she would transfer to engineering, Mr Smythe would make her a shift supervisor."

Abdulla opened her mouth to protest that proclamation, but before she could, Zolka said, "Well, send her out. And ask her to bring a Hodges' spanner. I seem to have forgotten to bring one."

"You got it," Mac answered, and closed the channel.

"What in space does he need a Hodges' spanner for in one of the nacelles?"

"It's a test," Mac answered. "To see if you know what one is. After all, you're only a lieutenant of communications. That means something here." She took a deep breath that turned into a yawn, and then shook her head. "Well, it's the starboard nacelle, and you know where the spanners are, if you feel like carrying one there."

"You look tired, Mac," Abdulla observed. "I imagine it must be difficult, working 12 hour days when you're still trying to recover from your burns."

"It doesn't help that Smit treats me like I'm extremely delicate or something. Sometimes I just want to scream at him to stop treating me like an invalid."

"He doesn't want you to wind up back in med bay, unable to help him at all."

"Oh, it's more than that." She turned to face her friend squarely. "Because of my injury, they discovered I'm pregnant."

Abdulla blinked and stared at her friend for a moment. "I'd heard the rumors, but I didn't believe them."

"The rumors were wrong," Mac declared. "Back then, I wasn't. But now I am. About 6 Earth weeks, according to the diagnostic bed."

"That gives you about 7 weeks before they ship you planet-side," Abdulla observed. A heavy sadness fell over her. The Fireball won't be the same without Mac on it. How will Bugalu take her absence? "Does Bugalu know?"

"Oh, he's not the father," Mac stated hurriedly, and rolled her eyes. "But he proposed, anyway, the silly gerkat. Anyway, I need to explore my options. And that's hard to do right now, with 12 hours on shift and the rest of my day in med bay, trying to get better. Anyway, you'd better get moving, or Zolka will be positive you don't know your way around."

"Yes, I understand. We'll talk later," Abdulla stated, and turned away, pausing at a locker to pick up a Hodges' spanner, which was not used on any piece of equipment associated with the warp drive.

Call for Help

Month 16 day 2

15:32 Hours

Bugalu

Bugalu waited impatiently for the end of his shift, which had been uneventful, like most shifts on a Fleet starship. It's time for me to sit Mac down and have a long conversation with her. Whatever her problem is, I've got to get to the bottom of it. She's been quiet, preoccupied and often morose for the past couple of weeks. Or longer. Scattered into that mix are fitful bouts of anger, which frequently seem to be directed at Smythe, though she won't say so directly. But nobody can tell me what the problem is between them. Every time I ask her, all she does is shrug and tell me to forget it. I'm tired of not knowing what's going on. It's time, even if she doesn't want to discuss it. So help me, if Smythe is harassing her in some way, I'll go straight to the captain.

He glanced at the chronometer and silently sighed in frustration.

The captain was having a quiet conversation with Takor at the science console, and Bugs tried not to listen. Conversations between those 2 were often confusing for someone not that familiar with the Sciss physiology. And then Abdulla broke into the conversation. “Captain, we’re receiving an SOS from the St Elmo.”

“Recorded or live?” Burke asked, her conversation forgotten as she whirled to return to her command chair.

“I- I’m not sure. It… There, it just started repeating, so probably recorded.”

“Patch it through and send an acknowledgement. Ask how we can help.”

Bugalu heard Abdulla manipulate her controls and whisper into her personal mic as the call for help was transferred to the speakers.

“…from the St Elmo. Requesting assistance from whoever can get to us. Our warp engines exploded unexpectedly, throwing us severely off course before we could regain control. All we have are impulse engines, and we’re not sure about them. Astronavigation puts us at approximately 351, -115, 2021 from the Bergosi Star. Repeat. All Fleet vessels who hear this message. This is an SOS from the St Elmo. Requesting assistance—" It went silent as Abdullah cut it off, and then a live voice came over the speakers.

“Hello, Fireball. You’re the first to answer our call. This is Captain Yolanda Valentine of the St Elmo. We're in stable condition right now, but we're currently drifting, uncertain we can trust even our impulse engines at this point.

"Our chief engineer and most the engineering staff from the B shift are in sick bay, some of them in bad shape. We’re not even sure what happened. So if you could spare some engineers to help us get things put right, and maybe a few medical personnel, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“This is Captain Jane Burke of the Fireball. Of course we can help,” Burke answered at once. “I’ll notify my engineering and medical departments and start for your location right away. I estimate it’ll take us 2 days to reach your location, so if you could turn on a homing beacon in about 36 hours, that will help us locate you.”

“We’ll do that, Fireball. As I said, we’re drifting right now, and not even sure of our speed. I'll have Astronavigation take another reading in 12 hours, and give you an update on our speed and course. We’ll look forward to seeing you in about 2 days.”

“Stay safe,” Burke told her counterpoint. “We’ll be in touch.” The bridge speakers went silent, and Burke punched a button on the arm of her chair. “Smitty.”

It took him a second to answer. “Yes, captain.”

“How are our warp engines? Have you got all those blips tamped down?” Blips? Bugalu wondered to himself. I haven’t heard Mac mention any blips.

“Yes, captain,” the engineer returned immediately. “The warps are fully ready for whatever you want.”

“I need a 2-day run at high gear. Warp 10, if you can keep it there,” Burke told him and broke the connection. “Capac, have you got our new course plotted?”

“Yes, captain.”

“Bugalu, change course and head out, full warp.”

“Yes, captain.”

She pressed another button on her chair arm. “MacGregor.”

“Here, captain.”

“We’re headed to give assistance to the St Elmo. They had an engineering accident of some kind, and most of one engineering shift is in sick bay.”

“I’ll coordinate communications with Abdulla, so we can be prepared when we get there.”

“We'll be there in about 48 hours.” She closed that circuit and opened the one to engineering again. “Smitty, how are those warp engines doing now?”

It took a little longer for him to answer this time. “Working perfectly, captain, and approaching warp 9. Will you be wanting any more than 10.2, captain?”

“Let’s not test our luck,” she told him. “Warp 10 should be enough. The St Elmo said their warp engines exploded. Always makes me nervous to hear something like that.”

“The Elmo,” Smythe repeated. “Captain, they recently had some sort of modification made to their warp routing couples.”

“Now, how would you know that?” she asked.

“I’m good friends with their Chief Engineer. He wrote me about it a few weeks back.”

“Oh." She hesitated half a second. "Uh, Smitty, their Chief Engineer is in sick bay. You not only will be assisting with repairs, you may be called on to figure out what happened.”

“I understand, captain. Uh, if Stinky… Lt. Cmdr. Facchini... is in sick bay, did they mention who’s currently in charge of that investigation?”

“Have Abdulla set up a contact line for you. One of his shift supervisors, I would assume, but I didn’t get any names.”

“Right. I’ll do that. Will there be anything else, captain?”

“No. I trust you to keep things humming down there.”

“Thank you, captain. Smythe out.”

And just like that, the emergency was handled—for now—and assignments were given. And Bugalu’s shift still wasn’t over, though it was closer to it.

With preparations for an engineering and medical assist to make, will I even be able to find Mac this evening to talk to her? That can be hard to do without being in the midst of planning an assist.

A Change of Habit

 Month 15 Day 8

19:31 Hours

Jane Burke

 The book was a period mystery, but it involved time travel, so the period kept changing. It was definitely set on Earth, and it involved some humor, as well. Jane would have to look up other books by this author.

The doorbell startled her, and she glared across the room, but of course she couldn't see through the door to see who had disturbed her. She sighed and bookmarked her place, then rolled off her couch and stood up. She dropped her book on her desk as she walked to the door.

A quartet of joyous faces greeted her, and Smythe held up a nearly full bottle of whiskey.

"What's going on?" she asked, although now that she recognized Abdulla, MacDowell, and Wilson, she could think of 2 possible reasons for such joy. She wasn't sure which one she hoped it was.

"It worked!" Smitty declared, surging into her quarters. He headed for her liquor cabinet, probably for glasses.

No, that doesn't explain things for me. "What worked?" Did he convince MacDowell to get engaged again?

"The Yukoskian transportation machine we've been working on!" Abdulla explained. "We finally got it to transport items and not have those items be deformed!"

"Well, at least they don't look deformed," Wilson added. "We'll have to wait for the labs to run tests to make sure they remain identical to what we sent through the machines."

"Well, congratulations," Jane told them. "I see Mr Smythe intends to celebrate in his usual way." Not exactly. His usual method is with gin, but I've heard MacDowell won't drink anything but whiskey.

"I didn't have champagne," Smitty stated as he poured 2 fingers of brown liquid into 5 different glasses. "But this will do." He picked up one of the glasses and handed it to MacDowell, who hesitantly took it. As the other women each took a glass, Smitty took the last one and held it up for a toast. "To what looks like success."

"Absolutely," Jane agreed, and took a sip. As she lowered hers, she realized MacDowell hadn't even sipped. What's up with her? I've seen her drunk. I've heard how much she can handle. I've even heard rumors she has a secret cache of whiskey somewhere on the ship. This is a perfect excuse for her to drink. But instead, she's wrapped her hand around the glass to hide that she isn't drinking.

After the others drank, Smitty closed the bottle and sighed. "I wish we could continue, but it's a bit premature, since the labs haven't finished their tests. Besides, most of us have work in the morning, and Wilson in just a few hours. So I'll call an end to our evening, and I'll let you know what the labs say. Shouldn't take more than a day or two. In the meantime, I want each of you to think of something to run through the machines next week. But no live creatures yet; we aren't ready for that. Whatever you decide on, bring 2 of them to the session next week, so the labs can see what we start with, and what we wind up with."

"So you're moving along with more experiments," Jane stated.

"I don't see any reason to stop," he returned. "Just imagine what this could mean, just in moving cargo from space station to ship! Or vice versa."

"I have thought of it," she answered. "It could revolutionize shipping. I'd like to be kept in the loop, as you continue with your experiments. Don't save it all up for a grand finale. If I had more training in engineering, I'd consider joining you for at least some of these experiments."

"You'd be welcome to join us, captain," Smitty stated.

Jane dismissed the idea. "I'd get in the way and ask too many questions. Just let me know if the experiments are going well, or if you've hit a stumbling block."

"Of course, captain. Be happy to."

And since I'd be asking questions about something engineering, he won't mind if I ask them. But I won't be impeding the process of the experiments, and can cut him off if he gets too deep for me. Yes, that will work.

"Well, I do have to work in a few hours, so I'll say good night," Wilson stated. "Thank you for the celebratory drink, Mr Smythe."

"You're welcome, Wilson. I'll see you in the morning."

"I should be going, too," Abdulla decided. "I want to write a letter home about this, and I won't have time tomorrow."

"Lieutenant, tomorrow starts your weekend," Jane reminded her.

"Yes, and I've got 3 dates lined up over the course of the day," she admitted, and put down her glass to head for the door.

After those two left, Jane regarded the two who remained. By now, MacDowell had both hands wrapped around her glass, which she was staring at. Smitty was staring at the redhead warmly, his half bottle of whiskey held negligently in the crook of his elbow.

Taking another sip, Jane put the rest on the coffee table and led MacDowell by the arm toward the door, then leaned forward confidentially as she took her glass from her. "Did you think it was too soon to celebrate?"

"What? Well, no. Not really. I guess." She could hardly be heard.

Jane placed the drink on her desk and stopped near the doorway, turned to face the younger woman. "But you didn't drink."

For a moment, it seemed the face would become as red as her hair. "I... I..." She looked up. "I think I might be alcoholic. So I'm trying not to."

Do I believe that? What else would make sense? "Good for you. If you need help, Dr Fong provides counseling." A shadow appeared in the green eyes that Jane wondered about. "Or Dr MacGregor, if you prefer. Now, I'm going to keep Smythe here for a few minutes to give you a chance to get down the hall and out of sight, okay?"

MacDowell glanced back at the engineer. "I don't think he's stalking me."

"Let's not give him a chance to start tonight." She steered the girl out the door. Jane turned back to her chief engineer, picking up the untouched glass of whiskey as she passed the desk. "Here." She handed the glass to him.

He looked at it in confusion as he automatically took it. "Captain?"

"That's MacDowell's glass. Since she didn't want it, I thought you might drink it."

"Not want it?" he repeated.

"Next time you want to celebrate, maybe you should suggest cake, or ice cream," she proposed.

"We aren't children!"

"Smitty!" She put a touch of iron in her voice to get his attention, then softened it again. "If she doesn't want to drink, it isn't your place to try to force her."

His eyes widened at the idea. "No. Of course not." He tossed the whiskey down his throat, lowered the empty glass to the coffee table. "I wasn't trying to get her drunk, if that's what you were thinking, captain." He tightened his grip on his bottle. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

She let him get 3 steps away before she stopped him. "Smitty." He turned to face her. "She's wondering if she's alcoholic. That's why I thought another method of celebrating might be in order."

"Alco-!" He stopped his exclamation and pondered the possibility for a short moment. "Yes, captain. I understand." He seemed uncertain what else to say. "Thank you for telling me." He turned and left.

That redhead keeps surprising me. And Smitty, too, from what I can gather.

Continued Failure & Big Brother Again

 Continued Failure

Month 15 Day 1

1814 Hours

Smitty

 Like Abdulla and Wilson, Smitty watched in dismay as the cube of gelatin tried to solidify, but quickly slumped into a pool of goo that covered the bottom of the petri dish. Oh, bloody hell.

Abdulla muttered under her breath. Her tone made it plain she was not saying what a lovely day it was. "Well, no need to get upset," Smitty stated evenly. "We're still in the early stages of testing. Let's take our measurements, make our observations, share the information among ourselves and then set the problem aside for tonight. Just forget completely about it."

"Easier said than done," Wilson stated. "I've been doing nothing but think about it this past week."

"Mind going around in circles, is it? Getting you absolutely nowhere?" he asked.

"You know it," Abdullah confirmed, while Wilson nodded.

"I suggest going to the gym for a hard workout," he told them. "Don't give your brain a chance to actively think about the disappointments we've had so far. We do need to think about the problem, but first we need to break the cycle of going in circles. It hasn't done us any good. We need to start fresh, look at it from new angles, not just the same old thoughts we've been having. So, a hard workout, then some relaxation. Tomorrow is soon enough to start looking at the data we've accumulated, look for something we hadn't noticed before."

"I wish Mac had been able to be here tonight," Wilson stated. "I know, she's on light duty, so she couldn't be here, but—"

"Not anymore," Smitty blurted out.

"What do you mean?" Abdulla asked. "Then why isn't she here?"

"Oh, well, there was an incident in the mess hall at lunch," he answered. "It aggravated her thigh injury. MacGregor took her to sick bay to assess the damage, and kept her there the entire afternoon, sitting in a healing ray." He grimaced at the thought, having memories of what a healing ray felt like. "I hope she comes back to light duty tomorrow."

"Light duty?" Abdulla repeated. "After that long under a healing ray, shouldn't she be back to full duty?"

"I doubt it. Healing rays aren't that good. Or fast. Plus, they were using it on her thigh, but it's her shoulder that's reduced her to light duty. Knowing the side effects of a healing ray, she was probably too worn out by the time they got done with her to think of anything but sleep. She probably didn't even remember we were meeting tonight."

"That... would take a bit, to make her forget Joe and George," Wilson said.

"Believe me, you can't sleep while you're under the healing ray. But once they turn that off, sleep is all you can think about."

Both women sighed in resignation. "Well, let's finish up here so I can go do a workout," Abdulla suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," Ivy agreed.

 

 

Big Brother Again

Month 15 Day 1

1841 Hours

Bugalu

 When they finally got to a door into Mac's Quarters, Bugs was struggling to keep Mac on her feet. The last 2 times they had paused for her to 'catch her breath', she had actually fallen asleep while leaning against the bulkhead. He very nearly hadn't gotten her woke up the 2nd time, so he had pushed really hard to get her this far.

It was her living room door they came to first, but he didn't care. Cajoling to get her inside, he half-carried her to the sofa and got her laid out on it haphazardly.

"Thank you, Bugs," she muttered, and was sound asleep.

"You're welcome," he mumbled, breathing heavily, and sat down in the nearest chair. Space, she's heavy! Well, duh, she's a heavy-worlder. Thought I'd have to leave her sleeping on the floor someplace and go find Tall Bear. Or Ferguson. Both of them probably in the gym. He leaned back for several minutes, until he caught his breath. Well, we seem to be back on good terms again. And no sign of Smythe as we made our way here. Good. If she still wants him, she doesn't need any more complications getting in the way.

With his thoughts on the engineer when the hall door opened, he jerked around. "Della!" he identified the newcomer.

"Boy, you're jumpy," she commented, and then noticed Mac asleep on the sofa. "What's with Mac that she couldn't get to bed before she fell asleep?"

"She spent the afternoon in sick bay, in a healing ray. And then took a detour to the mess hall for food. I almost didn't manage to get her here before she passed out."

"But she doesn't sleep well without heavy gravity," Della reminded him. "Should we see about getting her to her bed?"

"I don't know, Della, I'm pretty wiped, having gotten her this far." He took a deep breath and stood up. "I say, leave her where she is, for now. I'll go to the gym and get Tall Bear to come and move her. She's extra heavy."

"I keep forgetting that. Explains why I saw Mr Smythe grimace when she landed in his lap today. Here I was thinking he should have been happy that's where she landed, so the look of surprised pain on his face didn't make any sense. Well, you go ahead and find TB. I'm in for the evening, so if she's still got the doors on super locked, I can let him in."

"Super locked?" he asked, and held up his hand. "Never mind. She doesn't want to see anybody."

"And particularly not a certain somebody. By the way, what's the idea of sending her flowers and making me say they're from him? She wanted me to send them back! I had to explain I couldn't and why, so now she wants to know what the idea is. Or has she asked you?"

"Not yet. Not in the condition she was in. And I did it because I had no idea why the marriage was off, so I thought I'd try to smooth some of the anger out of her. Apparently, the problem runs too deep for flowers."

"Yeah, I don't really understand the problem, either. You should have seen when she reported for duty this morning. I think the only thing she said to him was 'yes, sir'. All very formal. Very frigid. Not like her at all."

"Hmm. I've seen her like that a time or 2. Takes a lot to get her there. Takes time for her to cool off. If she really wants to patch things up with him, I hope she doesn't take it too far."

"Does she? Want to patch things up?"

Bugalu hesitated. "I think so. But... it's complicated." He started for the door. "I'll be back in a little." He walked out, headed directly for the gym, whistling because he had his sister back, with all her problems.

Surprise!

 Month 14 Day 3

0815 Hours

Jane Burke

 “She did what?” Abdulla exclaimed in something akin to shock.

“Lt MacDowell, upon being told her cross-training was over, requested a transfer to engineering,” Jane repeated, mildly surprised at the other woman’s shock.

Abdulla raised a hand to brush that aside. “Not that. I’ve been expecting that. It was that other thing Mr Smythe mentioned.”

“Oh.” That makes more sense. There’s hardly ever any hint of Smitty seeing anybody while on the ship, so to have him suddenly engaged—and to an underling—would be a shock. “She also agreed to marry Mr Smythe.”

“Well, who would have guessed?” Abdulla muttered in a daze. “She hardly even dates, let alone—” She pulled herself together and turned to the reason why she had been called into the captain’s office. “She wants to transfer. I won’t stand in her way, but I hope you have somebody better in mind to replace her in communications than Lt Adams. He may be an engineer, but he’s no communications officer.

“No, wait a minute.” She suddenly changed her mind. “Maybe I’m being remiss here. Maybe I should ask where you plan to assign her before I decide if I’m willing to let her go. Remember, I know the kind of mind she’s got, too, and I don’t think I’d be doing her any favor if you plan on starting her in the very depths of engineering, never to be seen or heard from again.”

“She’s got a point, Smitty,” Jane told him.

“All parts of engineering are equally—” He began what could only be his welcoming speech for new engineering recruits, and then stopped. Probably decided it wasn’t appropriate. “Actually, I was thinking of making her my protégé,” he finally said.

I suppose he figures it’s best to get the rest of her training out of the way. Trouble is, protégés are expected to spend a year or two learning the tips and tricks that would normally take them a lifetime of on-the-job work, and then move on. It isn’t intended to be a means for a couple in the throes of lust to spend all their time together. Can they get through it without any more ‘mistakes’ like I saw this morning?

There was a stunned silence in the room for a long moment. It obviously made Smitty nervous, and he continually cleared his throat as he looked for something to say.

Jane ruminated all the possible ramifications, and leaned forward to fiddle with an electronic pen that lay on her desk. “Are you sure you want to do that, Smitty?”

“I’m allowed to have one,” he said defensively. “It’s been a long time since I have had one.”

“Yes, and I, for one, am not surprised that you would choose Mac,” Abdulla stated. “She’s kind of led the way on building that Yukoskian transport machine, so I can only imagine how good she is with human technology. But to spend all day with her... I mean...

Exactly. And she’s not aware of what I saw this morning. If they can’t keep their hands off each other long enough for her to request an intra-ship transfer, then how can they get through 8 hours a day? Of course, they would have 16 hours a day when they could indulge their lust to the fullest.

Maybe I’m anticipating trouble where there won’t be any. If they spend some time getting their sexual urges out of the way...

Jane gave him a thinly veiled warning. “You would be patron and protégé while on duty, Smitty. Your personal relationship would have to wait until off-duty.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course, captain. I’m aware of that, and I certainly wouldn’t expect anything else.”

Abdulla glanced between them, then sat up straight and straightened her uniform. “Then I guess all that’s left to decide is when she’s switched over, and who will replace her.”

“I’m inclined to replace her—at least temporarily—with Lt Adams,” Smitty stated, and held up a hand to forestall Abdulla’s objection. “I’ve heard that he’s struggling. Therefore, I propose you oversee his training. It will be a good experience for him. If need be, I’ll oversee his testing.”

Jane could see Abdulla was struggling with the idea. No doubt she doesn’t want to be responsible for any mistakes he makes, nor any lapses in good behavior he displays. “That would make Lt Adams your responsibility,” she acknowledged for the younger woman. “In turn, it would be up to you to see to his training, and I’m not just speaking about communications. If he isn’t up to your idea of what an officer should be, it would be your responsibility to guide him to something more in step with what you have in mind.” And includes the ability to discipline him. I hope I’ve made that clear to her.

“So, I not only lose my best worker, but I’m punished for some reason by given the assignment to make her replacement shape up.” She didn’t sound enthused about it.

“It’s not punishment,” Smitty told her. “I like to think of it as an opportunity.” He considered the woman’s frown for a moment. “Alright, yes, it’s a lot of work. Fact is, I could talk to him about treating women with respect until I’m blue in the face, but I suspect it wouldn’t do any good. Hasn’t done any good so far. He needs to see women in a new way. Between you and Amano, I think there might be some hope for him.”

Abdulla sighed in resignation. “Alright. I’ll try. But I’m not sure he’s up to learning. He seems to consider communications beneath him, and he has no respect for women at all. With the possible exception of the captain. So, again, when do I officially lose her?”

Jane broke in before Smitty could answer. “I’ll let you know tomorrow,” she stated. “He’s keeping the schedule as it is for another week, and then we’ll see. I have my own thoughts on the matter.”

“So I need to start preparing study aids for Adams. I’ll get on it right away. If you’ll excuse me, sirs?”

As Abdulla left the office, Jane pulled up a couple schedules on her screen. Once they were alone, she bluntly told Smitty, “I see MacDowell works with Wilson next Wednesday and Thursday. I want MacDowell working communications next Friday and Aday, have her days off on Saturday and Sunday before she joins you on B shift.”

Smitty took a moment to absorb what she’d said. “Ahh, normally, a protégé takes the same days off as the patron.”

“Not this time,” Jane stated firmly. “I want you 2 on opposing days off so you only work together 2 days in a row, understood? Because I won’t tolerate any more slip-ups like I walked in on this morning. Do that sort of stuff on your own time!”

“Yes, captain,” he agreed, and stood up to leave. “I understand completely.”

Omen

 Month 12 Day 17

1944 Hours

Abdulla

Abdulla sighed in the silence. “Well, that’s disappointing,” she said as they all stared at the steaming pile of goo inside George’s delivery cage. “Granted, it was goo to begin with, but it was a gelatinous cube of the stuff, not the steaming, oozing stuff we’ve got now.”

“I’ll get the beaker it was originally in, and find something to clean it up with,” Ivy volunteered, turning back to the table near Joe, where the testing samples were lined up.

“Why is it steaming?” Smythe wondered. “What could have happened to raise the temperature while it was... transporting?”

“Wait, wait, let me think,” Mac requested, and a moment later, she got up and raced out of the room.

“Is she giving up?” Ivy asked, surprised by the other woman’s disappearance. “That doesn’t sound like Mac.

“I think she’s gone to double-check something,” was Abdulla’s guess. “Something Kolla said in a letter, possibly. As much as those 2 have in common, you’d think they’d find things to talk about other than transportation units and how to build them.”

“I’m not sure I follow you,” Smythe stated.

“Every time I ask Mac what Kolla said in her last letter, all she ever reports is more details about the inner workings of these machines. It’s how Mac stays at least a step ahead of the rest of us. I just wonder if they ever talk to each other about something more personal. Anything more personal. Or are those letters only about work?”

“They are 2 different people, Abdulla. They didn’t even know each other existed a few months ago. And frankly, other than an interest in engineering, I don’t see that their lives are that much alike.”

“Well, we may never know,” Abdulla returned. “If all they ever talk about in their letters is engineering, their lives could be virtual twins of each other, but they’d never realize it.”

Ivy scraped as much of the goo off the floor as she could and placed it in the beaker, then set it down next to another beaker, whose contents were still in a gelatinous cube. “That’s as much as I can get. There’s probably still a thin film of the stuff on the floor.”

“Weigh the sample we transported. See if we’re missing a large chunk or only a thin film on the floor,” Smythe suggested.

“And there was a vapor,” Abdulla reminded him. “We lost some of it to that.”

“Or it might have been water vapor from the air that came over with it? Wait, does it transmit some air with it? Or just the thing we send through?” Ivy asked.

Smythe considered the question. “We left the parameters wide to be sure we included the entire cube, so there should have been some air included.”

As they conducted observations of the sample they had sent through the machine, making notes in an electronic notepad, Mac raced back in and slipped a memory chip into the viewer on the Joe end of the table. “One of these letters mentioned something about elevated temperature when something is sent through the machine. What kind of adjustments need to be made if it happens.” She slid another chip down the length of the table toward the other viewer. “Here, you can practice your Yukoskian, Abdulla, since I haven’t bothered to translate these letters. I’m not sure which letter it’s in, so I’m just going to have to skim looking for ‘temperature’.”

That left Smythe and Ivy to finish their observations on the results of their first test.

Abdulla tried skimming through the letters, and found plenty of odd bits and pieces of personal information inserted at odd intervals, sort as if writing the letter was a long endeavor, and whenever Kolla came back to writing it, she would start with the news of the day. Her mother’s birthday. The beautiful korshtaka—a type of flower, Abdulla surmised—that they saw on a walk through the park. A romantic dinner with S’thyme, where she told him— “Wait. What? Mac, is this right? Am I reading this right? Kolla is pregnant?”

Mac never even looked up from her view screen. “What? Oh, that letter’s about a month old. So far, she hasn’t succumbed to the never-ending ‘I’m so pregnant’ mantra, but she does mention it from time to time. Trouble is, I can’t remember if what we’re looking for is before or after that revelation.”

“Maybe their lives aren’t so much alike after all,” Abdulla muttered, and began skimming once again.

“Got it,” Mac announced a few minutes later, and then her face fell. “Oh, there’s 3 different things that could be off, and they all have to be dealt with and tested separately. If we try to correct all 3 things at once, we might only confuse the matter. I can’t tell if she means ‘matter’ as in the test object, or ‘matter’ as in our understanding of what’s going on.”

“Whichever way she meant it, it means we make one adjustment at a time,” Smythe stated.

Mac frowned in frustration. “But we won’t even know if we’ve done any good by the time we finish our tests. I mean, if we make the adjustments one by one, doing a test after each adjustment, we could still come up with a steaming pile of goo for each of our remaining 2 tests for tonight.”

Ivy gave the redhead a lop-sided grin. “Sounds like engineering to me.”

“Well, it is a disappointment,” Smythe stated. “Or it will be, if we continue to get steaming piles of goo and then have to give up for the evening. But we’ll never know until we’ve tried.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky, adjust the first thing, and have it work perfectly,” Abdulla suggested.

“That’s not the way it usually goes, with a new piece of technology,” Smythe reminded her. “Of course, we don’t usually have an already-written technical manual for a new piece of technology, either.”

“Okay, what piece do we start with, and where is it located?” Ivy asked, eager to get started.

Trouble Thinking

 

Month 12 Day 9

2010 Hours

Ivy Wilson

 

 The four of them had built a tidy 7-foot-tall cage of sorts, with equipment off to the side that took up twice that much room. Ivy heard Smythe ask, “I wonder what that piece does, exactly.”

Mac’s answer consisted of little more than stutters. “I... I...” And her voice died completely away. Ivy looked up from consulting the translated tech manual to see Mac’s eyes clouded with confusion and... what? Consternation? She had pink flags on her cheeks that blazed in an otherwise white face. What’s going on? Mac hasn’t had trouble talking around Smythe in several weeks. Why is she suddenly having trouble now?

Abdulla spoke from where she was making adjustments to another piece of the machinery. “Well, something has to tear the molecules apart, right? Sounds gory, but how else do the molecules get transported on radio waves?”

A slight movement on Smythe’s part made Ivy realize he’d had his hand on Mac’s shoulder. Now that he had moved it, Mac slipped a few inches away, to complete her work on attaching that particular piece Smythe had asked about. Her face resumed its normal coloring. Is that it? Was she caught by surprise, and had to fight the urge to hit Smythe? She’s very touchy about men touching her. Most men.

“I don’t think that’s the particular piece Colleen’s attaching now,” he stated.

“This piece holds the molecules in a tight stream so they can all be transported more or less simultaneously,” Mac stated softly. “I think Ivy’s working on the part that strips the molecules apart.”

“I am?” Ivy asked. Mostly, she’d just been following the manual for this piece, without trying to figure out what it was for.

“If I remember the manual right, that piece goes right next to the piece I’m attaching. It makes sense that the piece that strips the molecules apart would feed into the piece that keeps them in close proximity. Doesn’t it?”

“Great. Now if it doesn’t work, it’ll be all my fault,” Ivy complained with a half smile.

“Now, none of that,” Smythe chided. “We’ve all worked on it, and there’s plenty of things that could go wrong. Every single piece we’ve built and added to this contraption has at least a dozen places where something could be off just enough to not let the thing work. We think we understand the Yukoskian measurements, but we might be off.”

“How long before you think we might be ready for a test, Mr Smythe?” Abdulla asked.

“He answered, “We’re close. I’ve been trying to think of a suitable test object.”

“I don’t think we should start with a human subject,” Mac stated.

“Oh, Black Space, no,” Smythe agreed at once. “I’m relieved we didn’t suffer any unintentional side-effects from using their transportation device while we were there. For all we knew, the machine might have put us back together with Yukoskian bio-chemistry, rather than our own.”

“I don’t think it would,” Mac demurred. “They use the same transport equipment to transport supplies, food, not to mention the clothes people are wearing. So they early on decided not to assume the biochemistry would be the same as theirs. Or chemistry, in the case of building supplies and such. They certainly did not want to send somebody to the moon to start building the base, only to have them arrive with holes in their spacesuit. So they didn’t take the shortcut of assuming anything about the people or stuff they were transporting.”

Smythe’s forehead wrinkled as he thought about that. “Did you get that from the manual? I don’t remember reading that.”

“No, I think that came in one of Kolla’s letters. I must have asked some question, and she tends to run off on tangents when she’s answering, particularly about the history of their technology. It appears to be a hobby of hers, the history of technology.”

“It’s good to hear, but we should be extra careful to test everything that we send through the machine, just to be sure it came out the same as it went in. A far more in-depth study than how does it look?”

“You mean an in-depth chemical analysis before we send something through, and another when it comes out?” Abdulla asked.

“Yes, exactly,” he agreed. “And the lab will need time to conduct their analysis. So, whenever we do start testing, I propose choosing no more than 3 items to test on any given day, and then seeing what the analysis says the following week.”

“That will certainly slow us down,” Adbulla stated as she finished working on that piece, and moved across the room to attach an identical piece to the twin piece of machinery over there. “Mac, how many pieces do we still need to build and then attach?”

Mac stepped back and ran her gaze slowly over the first cage and attendant assemblage. After a long moment of pointing to one area after another, and ticking things off on her fingers, she looked around. “I think the piece Ivy’s putting together is the last one. I’ll start putting together the 2nd one for the receiver machine.”

“Why are we calling one machine the transmitter, and the other the receiver? They’re built exactly alike and should be able to do either function,” Ivy wondered.

“You’re right,” Abdulla agreed.

“If they were located some distance from each other, we probably would have called them the base unit and distant unit,” Smythe stated. “They really are identical, and we might as well call them Unit A and Unit B.”

“Or Joe and George,” Mac suggested.

Ivy laughed. “I like that idea! It sounds like names one would give a pair of identical twins. And they are identical twins, of sorts. Built at the same time, of the exact same components.”

“Very well, there’s no rule against a bit of whimsy,” Smythe said with a smile. “Joe and George it is.” He started inspecting the pieces that had just been added. “Very good work, ladies, as always.”

“Thank you,” both Mac and Abdulla said.

Smythe turned and bent over Mac where she now sat, his hand on her back. Mac stopped working to look at him, their faces merely inches away from each other. Her work seemed completely forgotten. “You’ve come a far distance from when you first came aboard, Colleen.”

She didn’t respond for a long moment, then she finally got out a faint, “Yes,” of agreement.

Smythe smiled, gave her back a pat and stood up, removing his hand. “Once we get those last components put together and added to, um, Joe and George, we’ll call it a night. Perhaps we could all go to the mess hall and have a piece of cake to celebrate.”

Ivy resolved to hit the gym after the piece of cake, or her uniforms would soon cease to fit. “Sounds good to me.”

Abdulla gave a slight grimace, probably with a similar concern. “Sure.”

“Okay,” Mac agreed softly.

There she goes again, soft voice, like she isn’t sure of herself. But look at how she’s working. Not a single wasted movement. If I’m not careful, she’ll beat me getting this piece built and installed.