Mac’s Challenge (Part 6)

Month 9 Day 11

Shore Leave Day 12

2212 Hours

Bugalu

Previously:

“Starships rely on communications officers to not only offer basic translation, but also to provide insights into the culture, as much as one can. Anyway, it won’t be long before any communications officer who can list ‘Yukosk’ as a known language will start being requested by merchants and scientists. Possibly even tourist groups. Especially when it’s been learned as close to natively as you have.”

Mac stared at him. “Still want to get rid of me, Smit?”

He looked up sharply. “That’s not what I said,” he declared.

“Drink up,” Bugalu told them.

They both tossed their shots down their throats and then sat motionless, staring at each other. Bugsy filled Smythe’s glass, walked around the table to fill Mac’s.

He was surprised when her eyes fluttered closed and shocked when she started to lean, crashed against Yellow Dog and was headed for the floor. Both AmerInds hastened to catch her.

“Doc!” Bugsy called.

This is strange. She was playing cards fine, wasn’t slurring while she talked. She hasn’t drunk nearly enough to reach this stage! Have I ever actually seen her pass out?

After a moment, MacGreg leaned close to whisper in his ear. “She’s pretending!”

She’s what? How would she even think of doing that? Desperation? He cleared his throat. “Oh. That’s... remarkable.” His hand shook slightly as he placed the bottle on the table. He grabbed the closest empty chair and sat down. “Just a couple minutes left, Mr Smythe.”

“What?” The engineer looked at him, then back as the AmerInds got Mac into a stable position, with her head and arms resting on the tabletop, which sent cards skittering toward the floor. Smythe stared at her so intensely, sweat started running down his face. “Whatsh wrong w’ her?”

Suddenly the man is slurring?

MacGreg took a quick scan of the engineer and bent over to whisper in Bugalu’s ear once again. “Him, too.”

Bugalu swore in his mind in his mother tongue, because swearing in English just didn’t fit his mood. Both of them gave up rather than see it to the end? Then what was the purpose? Maybe she should have just challenged him, and let stand the ‘traditional’ rule of who wins what. But this... this ending is just a huge mess! Unless... “All you have to do now, Mr Smythe is take one more drink.”

“One more drink,” Smythe repeated, but didn’t seem certain about it. He glanced at the ‘sleeping’ Mac and moved a stack of cards atop a King, despite there being no queen involved. “Issee okay?”

This is the only time he’s shown any interest in a contestant who’s passed out. “Since it’s down to the two of you, I have to make sure you surpass her efforts before I can declare her out. But I’m sure she’ll be fine, as soon as MacGreg gives her a shot of detox.”

“Oh. Yess. I have to win. Firss.” The chief engineer gave an inane smile at no one in particular and reached for his shot glass. But somehow, his hand knocked the glass over instead of grasping it. The whiskey splashed over half his cards, and the glass rolled to the edge and fell to the floor. Smythe blinked, leaned over to find where the glass had gone, eventually grabbed the chair next to him to keep from falling over. “There it iss!” he declared, and lowered his body to the chair seat to reach, couldn’t quite grasp the shot glass and wound up closing his eyes. Despite his contorted position, he gave a soft whistling snore.

He’s doing it. He’s actually giving up, rather than win.

“He’s out?” Abdulla asked.

“Looks like it,” Bugalu stated.

“Then it’s a tie?” she continued.

“Looks like it,” he repeated.

“Well, that’s... kind of an anti-climax, isn’t it?”

One Mac sure isn’t used to. Even if it was real. Bugsy realized it was now time for somebody to take the next drink, if the contest were to continue. “Drink up,” he whispered, and was relieved when neither of the remaining contestants seemed to hear him. He carefully waited out another 15 seconds and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“That’s it,” he announced, standing up. “The contest is over. It’s a tie between Mac and Smythe. They each get one of the remaining bottles. Doc, you can detox them, if you want. It would make it easier to get Mac back to her quarters.”

“Don’t we just put her in a taxi, like we did everybody else?” Capac asked.

“She’s heavier than she looks,” Tall Bear reminded him. “Plus, she tends to hit whatever man puts his hands on her, even if she isn’t conscious. No, I agree with Bugs; give her some detox, doc.”

“Of course,” MacGregor agreed, and quickly gave each of the final contestants a dose.

Only one shot, and the same amount for each, because he didn’t make any adjustments. Not the double or triple shot he gave Mac at the end of last shore leave. She must have really given up early. Was that her plan all along? Then why make it so plain that whoever ‘won’ would not win her? Maybe she didn’t really have a plan, just tried to... take some kind of advantage of a perceived opportunity. Which Smythe - simply by following her lead - snatched away from her.

Poor girl.

Smythe’s eyes opened and he laboriously worked his way upright to sitting in his chair, looked around the table in an apparent daze.

Mac groaned and started to work her torso off the table into a sitting position, her eyes still closed. “I hate being detoxed.”

“Give up drinking,” Tall Bear suggested.

She grunted. “Might as well tell me to sprout wings and fly. Doesn’t happen on Gaelund.”

“You’re not on Gaelund anymore,” the AmerInd pointed out.

Bugsy capped the opened bottle he’d been pouring from and placed it in front of Mac. Her eyebrows wrinkled together. “What’s that for?”

“The contest was a draw,” he explained. “You, uh, passed out first, so you get the bottle that’s been opened. Smythe lasted a couple more minutes, but also passed out before he could take the winning drink, so he gets the unopened bottle.”

“Oh. Okay. Makes sense. I guess.” She gazed across the table at the engineer, who was busy collecting his cards, wiping any wet ones with a cloth the server had supplied. After a moment, she distractedly started pulling her own cards toward her, and then started laying them out in suits so she could tell when she had them all. Some, after all, had fallen to the floor. An incomplete deck of cards would not be fun the next time she wanted to play solitaire.

Yellow Dog retrieved the last missing card from the floor, and Mac shoved the deck into her pocket and stood up. “Bugs, I feel like a movie.”

“Okay,” Bugalu agreed. She should say something to Smythe, I suppose, but what? Not ‘nicely played’, like some athletic endeavor, and certainly not ‘better luck next time’. Well, if I can’t think of anything suitable, then I can hardly fault her for not saying it. “You want to take a taxi or walk?”

“If it’s nice, let’s walk. The hotel’s not that far.”

“You two are staying at the same hotel?” Capac asked in mild surprise.

“Yes,” Bugalu replied. “The same hotel.” The same room, but that’s nobody’s business.

Mac picked up her partial bottle of whiskey, then hesitated. “Thank you for participating in the contest, Smit. You did a very good job of... remembering the rules.”

Smythe collected his cards into one pile despite their dampness and stood up, as if to show her some old-fashioned respect. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your shore leave, Colleen. It sounds as if you’re going to have plenty to do once we’re back on the ship.”

She gave a short nod. “Good. Maybe it will keep me out of trouble.”

Bugalu laughed. “Only if you sprout wings and fly!” He turned and headed for the exit, knowing she would follow.

“Don’t be silly!” she told him, sounding cross.