Making an Effort

Month 16 Day 7

1129 Hours

Smitty

Smitty stepped onto the lift and sent it towards engineering. He stared at the floor, thinking about the strange dream he'd had.

Drake had been behind him, and whispered in his ear, "You're as fertile as the proverbial rabbit."

He had turned around to face the doctor in surprise. "What?"

"You heard me. So stop pretending this baby isn't yours and do the right thing. Before I do it in your stead." The doctor's face had morphed into something that rather resembled a rabbit, and he added, "You're so fertile, you could impregnate the entire female portion of the crew. If their shots also happened to fail."

It had shaken him, that dream. So much that he had stopped by the med bay on his way to breakfast and asked to speak to Dr Fong. In private. Fong had needed to borrow an office for the meeting.

"Fertility test?" Dr Fong had asked him in surprise.

"I asked for it last night," he had told the psychiatrist. "I wondered if the results were done yet."

"Well, let me look," Dr Fong had said, and opened a file on the computer. Then he sat back in surprise. "Well. It seems your birth control shot has utterly failed. I can't explain it, but I'll schedule you for a new one as soon as we return to the Fireball. Or would you like one now?"

A stupid grin had spread over Smitty's face, and a sense of... pride had filled his heart. "I'm about to get married," he told Dr Fong. "Let me talk it over with my bride." Then he had left, not wanting to answer any more questions.

The lift deposited him outside engineering and he walked inside, made his way to the office. Colleen was sitting at the desk, her head propped up to see the computer screen. What's she doing? I remember a time when she was in that same pose, supposedly studying, back when she couldn't pass her probational.

Well, we've come a long way since then, Smitty. And still a ways to go. This is where you start winning her back, get her to marry you. "Colleen?" he asked timidly, and then chided himself for starting out in such a weak position.

She hasn't moved. Is she asleep? She was, that time she had been supposedly studying. He closed the door and locked it. Moving around to the other side of the desk, he could see that her eyes were closed, her face relaxed. She is asleep. Should have gone back to med bay at the end of 8 hours, I suspect. He reached out and gently squeezed the hand that lay limply in front of the computer screen. "Colleen?"

Her hand clasped his warmly for a moment, and then she opened her eyes. "Smit," she greeted, and let go of his hand to try and stifle a yawn. "I was trying to get some of your paperwork done for you." She reached out and shut off the computer screen.

Paperwork's not a thing you should be trying to do when you're tired. It never works for me. "You should have gone to the med bay," he told her softly. "Still, I'm glad you didn't. I was hoping to talk to you."

She glanced at the clock and stood up. "I've only been asleep about 5 minutes. I think I can last through debriefing." She looked around the office. "Where is everybody?"

"They'll be here in a minute."

"Oh. I expected them to be here by now."

"Soon," he reiterated, and took hold of her hands, turned her to face him. "I want... I have to apologize to you for the way I behaved. When I heard you were pregnant."

"Oh." Her tired face took on a touch of color, and she lowered it, refused to look at him. "It couldn't have been too shocking."

"No, it wasn't. I knew... I mean, I let myself be convinced you were pregnant some time ago. The shock came at how recently it happened."

"I wanted to tell you myself," she said softly.

"I know that now. Before—when I thought you were pregnant—none of the details mattered to me. But when I heard you confirm you were pregnant, and even gave a date for it happening—"

"It was the night we had sex," she whispered.

"So you said," he murmured in return. "And suddenly, I froze. As if all choice was being taken away from me, and now I had to marry you. Whether I wanted to or not."

She looked up quickly, her eyebrows knit into a frown. "Even on Gaelund, the man isn't forced to get married. All the blame lands on the woman."

We aren't on Gaelund. Still holding her hands, he raised one and placed a forefinger on her lips briefly. "There's nothing for anybody to be blamed for. Now that I've had some time to calm down and think things through, I've realized that no choice has been taken from me. I wanted to marry you before, and I still want to. And I want to be the best father I can be; that hasn't changed, either. I hope you let me make it up to you." He leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers.

It was intended to be a gentle, tender kiss, but it soon became much more intimate and full of hunger.

The office doorbell rang. They sprang apart.

"Oh, Black Space," Smitty fumed.

"At least they didn't walk in on us," Colleen stated. "I would have hated to be caught by Capt Valentine."

Smitty let go of her hands and moved toward the door. "They didn't walk in because I locked the door." He unlocked the mechanism.

"Oh, that was a good idea," Colleen breathed in relief.

"I thought so, too," he agreed as the door opened and 2 lieutenants looked in at them. "Come in. Let's get this debriefing done. How many systems have been repaired since midnight?"

So the debriefing began. He kept it moving along quickly, remembering that Colleen was not just pregnant, but recovering, and was thus doubly tired after her 12-hour shift. As he eventually dismissed those going off-shift, he allowed himself to cast a soft smile at the redhead as she headed for the exit with Wilson. There. So much for Drake's proposal, and Bugalu's, too. She didn't say she'd marry me, but that kiss was full of promise of a beautiful future together.

Character

Month 16 Day 5

1115 Hours

Smitty

Smitty looked up to see MacGregor and a female doctor as they sat down at the mess hall table with him. "I thought you'd be here," Drake stated. "Lt Cmdr Smythe, this is Dr. Francine Lister, the psychiatrist here on the St Elmo. Fran, this is Smitty, chief engineer on the Fireball."

"Pleased to meet you," Smitty said, offering his hand over the table.

"I think I saw you when you first came aboard," Dr Lister told him, shaking his hand briefly. "You came to sick bay to look in on Mr. Facchini?"

He nodded as he cut off a piece of his omelet. "Yes, we were study buddies at the Academy. I wanted to let him know I was taking over repairs while he's laid up."

"I wouldn't think he was awake enough to be aware of you."

"No, he did seem to be pretty out of it," Smitty agreed. "But his fingers moved while I talked, so I think he heard me."

"Smitty, Francine has been talking to Dr Fong, and it's her understanding that the Fireball has a man-hater among her crew."

Smitty swallowed his latest bite and took a sip of his juice. "Man-hater? What are we talking about? A woman who was betrayed in love? Because that, unfortunately, happens far too often. Probably on any ship."

"No, something more complicated than that," Lister stated. "This would be a woman who won't let any man touch her, doesn't go on dates, pretty much won't have anything to do with men. And isn't particularly fond of women, either, most likely."

Smitty cast his mind over the female crew members that he knew, but that didn't seem to fit any of them. "Doesn't sound familiar."

"But Dr Fong—"

"She's talking about Mac," Drake broke in. "But you're right, I wouldn't call her a man-hater. She just doesn't trust men, probably because of her upbringing."

Smitty stared at the other man at this outlandish statement. Remembering the girl who had first come aboard, over a year ago, she was a flirt, but not ready to follow through once she had a man's attention. She relied on her Gaelund strength to give her 'No!' a punch. But if that was true, then how did she get pregnant? Surely if it was rape, she would have reported it. Or was she too embarrassed to have been bested by a normal human? Of course, more recently... "Her views have... mellowed... in the past year."

Drake looked surprised. "I'm not sure I agree with that assessment."

"I think I would know," Smitty said gruffly, and drank half his cup of coffee. He glanced at the chronometer, wondered how quickly he could get away from these doctors and to engineering.

"Why would you know?" Dr Lister asked, her eyebrows knit in confusion.

He hated to be rude, but this conversation was extremely boring. "Because Colleen MacDowell is my protégé." He looked at the clock again and decided he didn't have enough time for another cup of coffee, he'd have to make this one do. He was still hungry; maybe he should have gotten a couple pancakes to go with his omelet.

"You don't consider this protégé of yours to be a man-hater?"

"Not at all," Drake said before Smitty could respond. "Like I said, she didn't trust any men when she first came aboard. No, Let me correct that. She trusted one, a young man who had been her brother's roommate at the Academy. She calls him her adopted brother. There were some skirmishes when she first came aboard, as some men refused to believe she meant no when she said it." He smiled as he cut up his roast beef. "She even managed to give a black eye to a security shift supervisor, but that was due to a complete misunderstanding. But like Smitty indicated, things have, er, settled down quite a lot since those early days."

"The way you describe her, it seems pretty much like what any young lady newly transferred might have gone through. Maybe she's not the one Dr Fong has told me about."

"She is," Drake responded. "I've seen his files on her. Personally, I think he's completely misread her upbringing and blown it all out of proportion."

"How so?"

"First of all, she's Gaelund."

Lister paused to think. "Heavy worlder? So she's extra strong?"

"Right. And it's still in the colonial stage. Women there are supposed to get married and have a lot of kids. Bring the population up."

"A heavy patriarchal society. Not that unusual in a colony."

Smitty stopped listening. Whatever Colleen's upbringing has been, she's in the Fleet now, and has to live by Fleet regulations. Her past doesn't matter. That's what I have to remember. However she got pregnant, whoever the father is, none of that matters. So long as she marries me. He abruptly put his coffee cup down. "Excuse me, I need to get to engineering." He got up.

"Mr Smythe, perhaps I could meet your protégé?" Lister asked hurriedly.

"What?" He stopped, his tray in his hands. "Why?"

"Well, I've just been given a 2nd opinion of her character. I'd like to meet her and make up my own mind." She got up and picked up her tray. Drake quickly followed suit.

Smitty sent a smoldering glare in Drake's direction. "This is not a good time, doctor. She's just finishing up a 12-hour shift, and I'm sure she'd like to get some sleep. All my people are working 12 and 12. It gets the work done, but doesn't lend itself to a lot of social activity."

"I assure you, I understand. I just want a few minutes with her. I'm due back in sick bay for the rest of my shift, and I don't make a habit of being late."

"Smitty, play nice," Drake said quietly.

Maybe I am out of sorts. Long hours of work, babysitting an idiot who Stinky somehow took on as his protégé... It's going to be a long repair job. "Yes, well, come along. I still need to debrief her and Wilson on what they've gotten done."

"I won't get in your way, I promise," Lister told him, and they all left the mess hall.

Asking for Help

 Month 11, Day 30

1750 Hours

Drake MacGregor

 Drake, not sure he understood the problem, sat down at the table in the privacy room. “What do you mean, all you do is examine pa’s dictates?”

Mac looked to Bugalu, who gave her a nod, and they both sat down. “First, I state the dictate, then I explain what it means, then I have to give him all the examples from my life that I can think of. Then he gives me hypothetical examples of situations and I tell him how the dictate would effect the outcome. We never get done with that portion of the session, even though most of his examples are merely variations of his earlier examples. We never get around to talking about why the dictate is wrong, or stupid, or how to... disable it.”

“That doesn’t sound right. He never asks how you feel about it?”

“Oh, yes, he does that. Many times during the session. But he just makes a note of my answer and goes back to giving me examples, or wherever we left off at. He doesn’t give me any advice about what to do about it. At least Bugs does that! Even if I can’t follow Bug’s advice right away, I have something to work on trying.”

“I’m no psychiatrist, but that definitely doesn’t sound right,” Drake repeated. “How can you get over Winthrop’s attack if Fong doesn’t guide you to answers?”

“Oh, I think I am,” she answered. “Over Winthrop’s attack. It was scary because I couldn’t make him stop. Even when a full-fledged brawl ensued. Then I heard he was hopped up on some drug, and it wasn’t my high-G strength at fault, so I calmed down a lot about that situation.”

“I’m not sure I understand the problem.”

Bugalu chose to enter the conversation. “Examining pa’s dictates every second day and not resolving them, or attempting to resolve them, leaves her completely wound up tight. She can’t calm down enough to date, and it’s getting almost bad enough to make her lose control and deck somebody.”

“Do you need another hand massage?” Drake asked her.

In a single second, a whole host of emotions crossed her face, and then she shoved her hands across the table. “Yes, please.”

Drake took the closest hand and began his massage, but Bugalu seemed exasperated. “This may help in the short term, but it doesn’t help her resolve her problems.”

“How did she ever make any progress with her problems before this?” Drake asked.

“Back at the Academy, whenever one of pa’s dictates reared its ugly head, I would logically and repeatedly explain why it wasn’t feasible or normal, and how she should behave instead,” Bugalu explained. “Eventually, some of it got through to her and she began to accept it. Now she’s just getting pa’s rules, with no examination of why they’re wrong or indications how to fight against them.”

“Well, that keeps her wound up, yes, I can see that,” Drake said. “I’ll talk to Dr Fong, point out he’s not doing her a lot of good with these tactics. But in the meantime, until he can go back and do his best to rectify pa’s dictates, she’ll just need to avoid situations that get her upset.”

“Hard to do when half the crew is asking for dates,” Mac muttered, and her hand tried to ball up even as he was massaging it.

“Easy now. Remember the hot tub surrounded by flowers on your island retreat.”

She took a deep breath, and her hand started to relax again. “Is Tall Bear on that island? Maybe he’d take me to a movie.”

“That sounds like a date,” Drake teased.

“She’s being pestered for dates,” Bugalu stated. “You should have seen the crowd of men I saw outside her quarters, all wanting a date. Even without pa’s dictates, I would think that would put any woman on edge.”

“Especially when I know they only want one thing.”

“Well, if she wants to date...”

“Only with guys like Tall Bear. No more dates like Ryan wanted.”

“You have to be careful who you date,” Bugalu stated. “No dates with Evans, Jones, Adams, Moor or Ryan. Not under any circumstances. You have to pick guys who aren’t going to expect sex right away.”

“At all!” she corrected.

“Most of them will expect sex eventually,” Drake told her, and her fists really did form tight balls. He doggedly started his massage all over again. “But you don’t have to give it. As soon as they start asking for it, you just say that’s not what you want, and stop dating him. Completely. Don’t let him talk you into another date with promises of best behavior. As soon as he does anything you aren’t comfortable with, stop dating him.” She moaned, and he knew she was thinking of all those men out in the hallway. “Look, I’ll come up with a list of 3 or 4 guys you can try dating, but don’t feel obligated to go out every day. Or even every week. Every bit of this is your choice, Mac.”

“Not really,” she sighed. “I just... There’s this one guy...”

“There’s one guy she wants to date, but he hasn’t asked her,” Bugalu revealed.

“Hmm. Maybe you should ask one of the ladies about the art of flirting,” Drake suggested.

“It’s hopeless,” she bemoaned.

“No, don’t think like that,” he told her. “Just go on a few dates, try to have fun. Now, what have you been doing to pass the time?”

She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair, pulling her hand from his ministrations. “Hiding.”

“What?” That doesn’t sound right.

She licked her lips. “MacG, it used to be only 8 hours—I can’t believe I just said ‘only 8 hours’, but I did. 8 hours a day, 4 days a week. Now it’s 24 hours, 8 days a week. The only way I get any relief is to hide! I sit in my room, working on my projects or reading. I’ve got the door locked, and usually, the intercom off. But knowing there’s some decent engineers who’d be able to get the computer to unlock my door, or at least open the intercom, makes me plenty nervous!”

“Well, not tonight,” Bugalu told her. “Tonight we’re going to the gym, and then a rec room.”

Her whole face lit up, and she seemed ready to leave right now.

And why not? Probably do her more good than a hand massage. “Sounds like a plan,” Drake told them both, and then pointed to Mac. “Anytime you feel the need of a hand massage, look me up. Or Beth. She’s the one who taught me. Now go on, go have fun.”

The Crowd

Month 11, Day 30

1610 Hours

Bugalu

 

Bugalu turned the corner to approach Mac’s room, stopped at the sight of a dozen men crowding the corridor. “What’s going on?” he asked Peron of engineering.

The collected men turned to face him. “Oh, space,” one man muttered, and wandered off.

“Why are you here?” Peron asked.

“I’m having supper with Mac.”

“I knew it,” someone else muttered, and a couple others left.

“What’s going on?” Bugalu repeated.

The remaining men started grumbling, and Peron sighed. “Okay, so she’s busy tonight. What about tomorrow? Do you have a date with her then, too?”

“I don’t date Mac,” he responded irritably.

“Good,” Peron smiled. “Then you won’t mind if we keep trying.”

“Trying what?”

“To date her,” Peron explained. “If you don’t date her, you won’t mind if we do.”

“Date her?” Bugalu repeated in surprise,. “Not at all. As long as she’s willing. But right now, she’s waiting for me.”

Mac’s living room door opened. “About time!” She sent a look of exasperation at the other men gathered outside her door. “Get in here, Bugs.” He walked in, as the others milled about. As he entered, Mac told them, “For all the rest of you, the answer is no. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not this week.”

“But Mac!” several objected.

“No!” she responded. “So go away!” She turned and pulled Bugalu into the room with her, allowing the door to close behind him.

She crossed the room and threw herself down on her new blue sofa. “How’s it going, Bugsy? Back up to a different date every night?”

What’s that mean? “Nearly. But I’ll always have time for you, Mac.”

“No doubt, no doubt,” she answered. “Question is, will I have time for you?”

“What?”

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” she sighed. “I’m just tired of... everything.”

“Tired? Are you not sleeping well? Again?”

“Hmm, that isn’t what I was talking about,” she answered.

The doorbell rang, and a male voice came over the intercom. “Mac? Ah, my name is Petre Kloppman, I’m from Astronomy. I’ve selected a variety of star fields I’d like to show you in the observatory. Any evening that you’re free—”

“Computer, lock the door and break the intercom connection to the hall,” Mac instructed. Silence fell as Kloppman’s words came to a sudden halt. “I don’t know how much more of that I can take,” she muttered.

Now he knew what was going on. “All those guys in the hall want a date?”

“Probably,” she admitted.

“And that’s got you upset,” he surmised, sitting down in a chair. Those guys are lucky she hasn’t broken any bones. Looks like she hasn’t even decked any of them, and that shows amazing restraint on her part.

“I’m trying not to be... overwhelmed,” she answered. “But it’s—” She couldn’t think of a way to describe it, and wound up shuddering. And that says it all.

He frowned. “How long has this been going on?”

“Well, I had that date with Bear, and that went okay. Then Clines needed help pronouncing Yukosk vowels, and people seem to think that was a date. Then, I reluctantly went out with Ryan, but it didn’t work. Lasted maybe 5 minutes before I shoved him away and walked off. Probably didn’t help any that I had just gotten out of a session with Dr Fong. Anyway, they just keep asking.”

“Everybody?”

Her eyes closed as a look of quiet pain passed over her face. “No, not everybody, I guess.”

“That’s why you snapped at me this morning on the bridge,” he stated. “You thought I was just another guy asking for a date.”

“Yeah. I’ve stopped listening. I just automatically say no.”

“Well, we need to get things under control. You don’t have to go out every night, Mac.”

She shuddered again. “Wasn’t planning on it. I’ve tried dating, Bugsy, but my attempt with Ryan was too much. I’m not even sure I could go out with Bear again.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t get me wrong. Bear was a perfect gentleman. The most intimate we got was I held his hand. Just so people would know it was a date, and would leave us alone. But since then, Pa won’t let up! I’m even nervous having you in my living room!”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“The only time Pa fades away to let me be myself instead of a nervous wreck is on Monday evenings.”

“When you and Ivy work on the Yukosk machine.”

“Right. Me and Ivy, Abdulla and Smit.”

“It doesn’t make you nervous to be around Smythe?” I would have thought Pa would be in full force with Smythe around.

“Nervous, yes. Always afraid I’ll say something stupid. I’m finally getting over that in those sessions. But pa is a tiny whisper, easily ignored, because he doesn’t apply to... the situation.”

“Well, why is pa so active all the time?”

Mac thought about that for a long moment. “Maybe because I can’t get through 2 days without having Pa’s dictates brought to the forefront of my mind.”

“Because someone asks for a date?”

“Oh, no. Well, they do, but that’s... Pa’s already in full force before they get a chance.”

“Then he must be ever present, like when you got to the Academy.”

“Yeah.”

Bugs mulled over what she’d revealed. “I thought Dr Fong was helping you unpack your luggage, as you say.”

“He does. He brings up a dictate, we examine it in minute detail, and then he moves on to the next one. We only get through one dictate during a session, and I’m left with that dictate firmly in mind, only to have another dictate added to it at our next session two days later. It’s a wonder I haven’t completely blown up yet, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep from doing that.”

“Wait. I’m not sure I understand. You examine the dictate in minute detail. So you must be able to see that pa’s dictates aren’t realistic, or feasible.”

“I try, but there it is, just like it was all my life before the Academy; not to be questioned, just to be followed.”

“So, you aren’t getting any guidance from Dr Fong on how to disable the dictates? Disarm them, ignore them, anything like that?”

Red curls bounced as she shook her head. “I’ve even asked him how I deal with these dictates so I can be a normal person, and he just says, ‘We’ll get to that,’ and then we never do. Our time is over, and the next time I see him, he’s ready to move to another dictate. It’s all been very frustrating!”

“No wonder you’re wound up so tight. That isn’t the way I thought this would work. If I couldn’t think of anything else to say when a dictate came up, at least I told you it was a stupid way to think of things.”

She leaned back and closed her eyes. “How I long to hear you tell me these things are stupid!”

“I think I can oblige. Come on, let’s go have supper, er, breakfast, in the privacy dining room. You can tell me all the dictates you’ve gone through with Dr Fong, and I’ll tell why they’re stupid. Afterwards, we’ll find Dr MacGregor and have a talk with him.”

A brilliant smile flashed on her face. “I knew you’d be able to help me. I just haven’t been able to think!”

Walking out, they stopped short at sight of all the men still waiting in the hallway. As Bugsy pondered what to say to them, he felt Mac’s hand take hold of his, and she leaned against him slightly. Well, they’ll all be thinking it anyway, with her behaving like that, so why not? “Gentlemen, you might as well leave, Mac already has a date for tonight. And as she said earlier this evening, she’s not available anytime this week. If you’re going to try again after that, don’t gang up on her all at once. Come on, Mac.”

He pulled her to the lift, and they got on. He realized the hand he held was shaking. “I hate to think about next week,” she muttered.

“One thing at a time,” he returned.

The Evidence

Month 11, Day 3

2309 Hours

Jane Burke

Jane hit the intercom button when her doorbell buzzed. “Who is it?”

“Captain, it’s Tall Bear. I wanted to brief you on what I’ve found so far.”

It may be late, but this I want to hear. “Just a minute.” She got out of bed, pulled a robe over her pajamas and went to her living room door to open it. “Come in,” She told him, and waved to the sofa area. “You don’t look like you’ve gotten any sleep today.” His eyes weren’t as focused as they usually were, and his shoulders sagged just a touch.

“No, I haven’t. I wanted to track down all the evidence I could find. I’ve got Lt Oakhurst trying to figure out a thing or two for me. I’m still hoping I can find more, but I’m currently drawing a blank where I might look. I thought I should brief you.”

“Go ahead. Did you find anything of use in quarters 42?”

“Not really. Evidence of one hum-dinger of a fight. Even the couch sustained damage, so I’m thinking at least one of them landed really forcefully on it. But who it was, or which one might have been on the bottom, if both of them were involved, I don’t know. All the fingerprints we found on items that had been shoved or thrown were from both combatants, but of course, we would expect to find Mac’s--MacDowell’s fingerprints all over her own quarters.”

“Of course.”

“I got in to see Mr Winthrop shortly after his dialysis. He gave a sort of statement, but it was broken up by rantings that didn’t really make sense.”

“What kind of rantings?” Sometimes you can catch a glimmer of what’s been going through a person’s mind by what he says when he isn’t quite himself.

“Well, the rantings weren’t even complete sentences, but they seem to imply that Mac—Dowell has been flirting with him, teasing him ever since she came aboard, and it’s time he showed her that kind of behavior isn’t acceptable. Captain, I know Mac—Dowell, and she doesn’t deliberately flirt or tease. But she does occasionally—accidentally—say something that might be seen as... provocative.”

“You can call her Mac,” Jane told him. “I know who you mean. What about his statement? Or what you took to be his statement?”

“He claimed he’s noticed Mac displaying symptoms of some kind of drug use, so he went to her quarters at a time he knew she wouldn’t be there to conduct a search.”

“What do you think of that explanation?”

“Frankly, I think it’s all in his imagination. She does—occasionally—misuse alcohol, but I could name a few crew members who aren’t as conscientious about having it out of her system before she reports to work. And that’s according to her medical records, such as just a couple days ago, when she went to have Dr Davis detox her. Furthermore, if he’d done the least bit of looking at her habits, he would have known that she sleeps during B shift, so she would have caught him in the middle of his ‘search’.”

“Did you find any drugs in her quarters when you searched it?”

“Just 2 1/2 bottles of whiskey.”

Jane opened her mouth to say something—after all, the girl had had to be detoxed just a couple days ago—but thought better of it. “Anything else?”

“I found 3 places in Mr Winthrop’s quarters that held a number of blue pills. They all seemed to be the same, but they don’t have any identifying marks on them. I confiscated all of them, placing them into evidence, and sent 1 pill from each location to sick bay to determine what they are.”

“I’ll be interested in finding that out myself.”

“I’ve got Oakhurst trying to pinpoint exactly where Mr Winthrop went inside Mac’s quarters during his search. I suppose it’s possible he found something and confiscated it, but we didn’t find anything on him.”

“I like your thoroughness,” Jane stated.

“And, I guess this is the end of my report; Bugalu has talked Mac into seeing Dr Fong, but she wants him to stay outside her cell. And she also wants Zhang to remain in the brig, so that means their conversation won’t have the usual doctor/patient kind of confidentiality. That worries me.”

“Yes, that would worry me, too.” Jane agreed.

“All things considered, captain, I’m inclined to release Mac. Innocent until proven guilty, and all that. But she doesn’t want to be released until morning! Temple says she’s too stiff to work, anyway.”

“Perhaps that’s the way to go, then,” Jane suggested. “Fabrication won’t be done fixing her quarters until at least halfway through A shift. Harris said she knew of a couch she could sleep on tonight, so she’s doing okay. Lt Postern says he delivered Mac’s new uniforms to her...”

“And she appreciated getting a D-class uniform, captain. I thought it might make her feel demoted, but the gold braid of her rank really stands out against the purple fabric. Although she’s otherwise not thrilled with the color; she told Bugs she likes a red uniform because it matches her hair.”

Jane chuckled. “She does have a different way of looking at things, doesn’t she?”

“I think part of it is her upbringing, and partly, she tries to be different. The thing is, captain, Dr Fong scheduled her first session for 2 AM. I’m not sure I can justify holding Zhang over just to be there for that.”

“You’ve been friendly with her. Does she jump up, ready to fight, if you walk into the brig?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t actually been in to see her. Everything I know about her day, I’ve gotten 2nd hand.”

“Are you planning to work your shift tonight?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then go down and see how she reacts to you. If she resists the urge to fight, explain to her that her conversation with Fong is supposed to be private, and it would not be ethical for one of your people to be there, especially since her conversation might be about an on-going investigation. Does she trust you?”

“Before this happened, I think so.”

“Ask if it would be acceptable if you stood guard outside the brig, not close enough to hear their conversation, but close enough if she yelled for help.”

He nodded, but asked, “And if not?”

He must be tired. I’ve pointed him at a path, and he still can’t see the logical end of it. “If she’s not agreeable to that, then call for a nurse. They are familiar with a patient’s privacy.”

He nodded again, his eyes slightly more focused. “Thank you, captain. A nurse would be a good compromise. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

“Because you’re tired,” she told him. “You’ve been up, what, about 24 hours?”

“More like 32.”

“And another busy day tomorrow, most likely. I appreciate your dedication, to report for duty as usual tonight. But given the circumstances, I think I can look the other way if you take a cat nap or two tonight.”

“Thank you, captain. I’ll keep that in mind.” He stood up.

She also stood. “After all, we aren’t currently in an emergency, but who knows what tomorrow might bring?”

“There is that,” he agreed, and headed for the door. “Good night, captain.”

Big Brother

Month 11 Day 3

1630 Hours

Bugalu

Bugalu stopped just inside the brig, before he could see holding cell 1, just as he’d been instructed. His arrival caught Zhang’s attention. “Mac, you have a guest come to see you. Mac?”

“I heard you,” she answered, and probably stifled a yawn. “Who is it?”

“Bugalu,” Zhang answered. “Looks like he brought you supper.”

“I hope he remembered it’s my breakfast,” Mac replied, and groaned as she started to move around. “Well, bring him in so I can see him. Even I don’t know how I’m going to react.”

Zhang nodded at him, and he came around the corner, stopped again. “Yes, I remembered it’s your breakfast.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, her blanket covering her legs and trailing across the floor. “When did you hear?”

“When I went to your quarters to wake you up. Fabrication is working on putting the living room back together.”

“Yeah, it was badly damaged, I think. Okay, Zhang, let him in. After all, I didn’t jump up, ready to fight him.”

Bugalu stepped forward, wondering at how round Mac’s eyes were as she watched him. Just as he approached the edge of the cell, she scooted all the way to the end of the bed. Her trembling hands gripped her blanket tightly.

Bugalu sat on the opposite end of the bed, put the tray of food between them and pushed it toward her. “Mac, you haven’t been this tense around me since your first week at the Academy,” he observed quietly.

“At the Academy, I expected every man to try to rape me,” she explained, her voice strained. “And now- now, one of them has tried!” Tears started flowing from eyes that were full of fear.

His first impulse was to comfort her, and he leaned forward to move closer and give her a hug, but as he did that, she jerked back, looked ready to bolt. He sat back, re-evaluated the situation. “Well, consider all the men who haven’t tried.”

“Yes,” she said in a tiny voice, and relaxed enough to reach forward to pull her breakfast towards herself. “I keep telling myself that most men are... are okay. But pa is very, very strong right now.”

“I can see that.” He watched her cut into her eggs, butter her pancakes. She looked at the small gravy bowl full of yellow liquid in confusion. “They told me that’s pineapple syrup, for your pancakes.”

She gave him a happy smile, poured the entire contents over her pancakes and proceeded to eat.

When she was about done, he dared to broach a subject. “Mac, I’ve tried to help you get over your father’s dictates. I’m not sure I’ve done that very well. I think it might be time to involve a professional.”

She nodded as she chewed a bite of pancake and swallowed. “Beth has already suggested that. At that time, I wasn’t willing to see any man at all. But now that I’ve had some sleep, and presumably have calmed down a bit, I think a little better of that idea. After all, it was suggested even before this... incident. The problem is, he’s male, I don’t know him, and I just don’t want him in here with me.”

Bugalu grinned. “You’ve been aboard almost a year, and there’s a crew member you don’t know?”

“Actually, there’s a handful I don’t know yet,” she returned. “It’s been a busy almost year.”

“But you do agree to see him?”

She hesitated long enough to eat another bite of egg and drink some hot tea. “Okay, yes, I’ll try it, but only if he can stay outside my cell.”

“Conversations with a psychiatrist are supposed to be private, but I’ll see what I can arrange.”

“Thank you, Bugs.” At his sudden half smile, she demanded, “What?”

“I never thought I would ever be relieved to hear you call me that.”

“You’ve never done anything to hurt me,” she answered. “Just having you here is quieting pa down.”

“Will you still see Dr Fong?”

“Yes. Maybe it is time to get professional help. But like I said, he can stay outside. At least, to start.”

“Good. If you’re done eating, I’ll take the tray back to the mess hall and get myself some supper. Do you want me to bring anything back afterwards? A book to read or anything to do?”

“No, I’m going to go back to sleep,” she stated. “I didn’t get much sleep before your arrival, and it was full of nightmares.”

“Nightmares of falling?”

She shuddered. “No, of... being attacked, and not being able to stop... it. Dreaming of falling would be a welcome relief from that.” She gave him a brief smile. “Maybe I should leave the bed’s gravity at Earth standard for the evening.”

He considered all the bruises and scratches he could see on her face, neck... even her hands. “Maybe not. Because if you fall out of bed and produce even more bruises, that may complicate the case against... Winthrop.”

Outside the cell, an older man approached Zhang and spoke to her. Zhang punched a button on her controls. “Mac, Lt Postern says he’s supposed to deliver this new uniform to you personally. Do you mind?”

She glanced at Bugalu—as if to reassure herself that he was there. “No, that’s fine. I gather there’s nobody in my quarters to accept for me. Della’s probably on a date.”

Postern approached the force field, which crackled off. He handed in 2 uniforms on hangers. “One C uniform, and one D uniform,” he reported.

“But they’re the wrong color,” Mac protested.

“No, they’re the right color for new uniforms,” Postern returned. “Communications’ color is now purple. Didn’t you get the memo?” He turned and left, assuming the force field would crackle back into place, which it did.

“Communications are now purple,” Bugalu muttered.

“I forgot about that memo.” Mac grimaced. “I really liked my red uniforms,” she stated. “They matched my hair.”

Bugalu chuckled. “You are the only person in the universe who could say their uniform matched their hair.”

“Well, not anymore,” she returned, and considered the D uniform again. “And on the other hand, Bugsy, I’m inclined to change. Would you mind leaving now?”

“Not at all. I’ll go have supper, inform Dr Davis about your decision regarding Dr Fong, and I’ll check in on you later.”

“Thank you, Bugs. Zhang, would you shimmer the force field so I can change?”

Bugalu picked up the meal tray, stepped out of the cell and headed out of the brig.