Making Arrangements

 Month 12 Day 15

0728 Hours

Jane Burke

 Jane was half done with her breakfast when Smitty joined her and MacGregor. “You’re running late,” Duck commented.

“Overslept a bit,” Smitty stated as he sat down and cut his omelet into bite-sized pieces. Despite being late and in a hurry, his movements with his dominant hand were slow and deliberate.

“What did you do to your hand?” Drake wanted to know. Jane took a more serious look and saw that it was a bit off-color.

“Tried to turn off my alarm,” Smitty muttered between bites.

“Your alarm fought back?” Jane asked with a smile on her lips.

Smitty’s face turned ruddy. “I wasn’t actually in bed.”

Such an innocent statement, which could mean so much. Did he drink himself into a stupor and pass out on the floor? Not a frequent occurrence for him, to my knowledge, but it’s happened once or twice. I assume it’s preceded by some kind of trigger, but what could have triggered it yesterday? Would I even know what his trigger is?

“What did you hit, if the alarm wasn’t handy?” Duck asked.

“A wall,” Smitty answered, and swallowed a sip of his coffee. “A bulkhead. It doesn’t matter; I’m fine.”

“You should come to sick bay and get it checked out.”

“It’s fine,” Smitty insisted. “It’s a little sore, that’s all. In a couple days, it’ll be back to normal.”

“Make up your mind,” Duck persisted. “Is it fine now, or do you assume it will be fine in a couple days?”

Smitty gave the doctor a dark glare. “It’s doing fine. It’s not worth mentioning. I don’t need any medical attention!”

“Perhaps not,” Jane inserted herself before tempers got too far out of control. “People have been recuperating from bruises on their own for millennia. Still, I don’t like having my chief engineer at anything less than top condition. So if it still bothers you in two days, I want you to report to sick bay and make sure it is just a simple bruise.”

“Yes, sir,” Smitty mumbled.

I’ll have to check on him in a couple days, see how he’s doing, but he’s acknowledged it as an order, so he’ll follow through. Now, what else was I meaning to talk to him about? Oh, yeah, a certain redhead. “Smitty, I’ve been wondering how Lt MacDowell is coming with her cross-training.”

Smitty stopped eating and stared down at his plate for a moment. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, captain. She’s been studying on her own, and it seems we can’t keep up with what she’s learned, or we can’t keep tabs on what she’s learned.”

“So, she’s got a brain,” Duck commented.

“Of course she does!” Smitty shot back.

What a change in opinion from her first month aboard. “That must be a frustrating situation for you, Smitty. I know you like to be aware of your peoples’ abilities. Any ideas what to do about it?”

He nodded. “It seems obvious I need to assign somebody specifically to keep an eye on her studies. And make sure they can do it while they’re both on duty, rather than make them do it when at least one of them is off duty.”

“I get the feeling you’re about to mess up the communications schedule,” Jane guessed.

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Not at all. I’ve got Ioboni as shift supervisor on A shift. Now, I’ve got no reason to think he wouldn’t get along with Co—MacDowell, but I know Colleen and Wilson get along, so I thought I’d temporarily switch Ioboni and Wilson. That gives the added benefit of showing the A shift that a woman is every bit as capable as a man.”

“But you still want the 2 women to work together. I’m not sure how that would work with one in engineering and the other on the bridge.”

“Just 2 shifts a week,” Smitty stated. “I can pull some engineering ensigns and techs up to the bridge to cover for Colleen while she’s working with Wilson in engineering.”

“And how long do you think this arrangement might last?”

Now Smitty slowed his chewing of his latest bite of omelet, seemed reluctant to swallow it. “I’m not sure. If I’ve read the signs right, she might want to transfer to engineering.”

If he’s reading the signs right. If he’d said that about a man, I’d be ready to start the paperwork. But women confuse him. He said the same thing about Abdulla, and she has steadfastly refused to transfer. Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, then. “Have you talked it over with the people involved? Ioboni, Wilson, MacDowell?”

Smitty sat up straighter in his chair, as if he found the question almost an affront. “I can’t imagine any of them objecting!”

No, of course not. He is their superior officer, and he can assign them wherever he wants them. To be fair, Smitty seldom has a subordinate feel enough rancor about a transfer to cause problems. “It’s usually appreciated if people get a heads up about a new assignment, even if that assignment is only temporary.”

“Oh, well, yes. I’ll communicate with them about it today, and have the changes take effect... ah, in a few days.”

“Good, that should allow them time to make any necessary changes to their personal schedules.”

Drake drank the rest of his coffee. “So you’re considering asking Mac, er, MacDowell, to join engineering, are you?”

Smitty’s face reddened a bit. He glanced at the clock and considered the rest of his breakfast. “She seems to have expressed an interest in it.”

“Congratulations,” Duck said dryly, gathering his items onto his tray for disposal. “It only took you a year to figure out that’s where she belongs!” He turned from the bewildered engineer to Jane. “Although I do wonder what she’ll do with herself when she’s mastered all the engineering technical manuals.”

“Perhaps she’ll start borrowing your medical books,” Jane suggested.

Duck gave a gentle shake of his head. “I doubt it. I haven’t seen any signs of interest in medicine in her. Not a speck.”

Altered Reality

 

Month 12 Day 14

2212 Hours

Smythe

 Smitty walked onto the bridge slightly before shift change, cleared his throat and walked over to the communications station. “Colleen.”

“Yes?” She turned her chair to face him, and he stared at her huge belly.

“What happened?” he heard himself ask, even though the answer was obvious.

She rubbed her roundness. “MacG says it’s twins. One from each of them, I suppose.”

“It doesn’t work like that!” he exclaimed.

Green eyes looked up at him intently. “Doesn’t it?”

“Even I know better than that,” he told her.

She stepped closer, until she was only inches from him. “Why don’t you show me how it does work?”

There was a sudden lump in his throat. “What do you mean?”

She leaned closer, pressing her delectable body against his in the moonlight. “You know what I mean,” she whispered, and raised her face to be kissed.

A gentle ping intruded.

“Oh, yeah.” His hands found her firm derriere. “I have a lot to show you.”

“Let’s get started,” she suggested just before their lips met. He gave in readily, pulling her close and preparing to enter her.

A gentle ping intruded.

“Don’t answer it.” She pulled him back. She was obviously ready for him, and—

“Blast!” He slapped the button on the alarm in aggravation, and then lay in the darkness again, breathing heavily, the dream still fresh in his mind. Another wet dream about her. What did I expect? That’s the only kind of dream I have anymore.

A gentle ping came from his living room.

I turned that off! No, wait, that wasn’t my alarm clock. What in space is it?

A gentle ping came from his living room.

He asked for, “Lights, one quarter.” As his bedroom lightened, he sat up, realized he had fallen asleep fully clothed. Probably right after supper, which he hadn’t even tasted. He stared forlornly at his clock. At least there’s no dance tonight for me to be missing. Hard to celebrate Valentine’s Day when you officially have to discourage fraternization.

A gentle ping came from his living room.

What is that? He went to the doorway to his living room, realized his computer screen was on. When did I turn that on? “Lights,” he requested, and blinked when they came on full force.

A gentle ping came from his computer.

That’s a message has arrived! I’m seldom here to hear it, and it isn’t supposed to ping but once. He sat down at his desk and acknowledged the message, then studied the screen in confusion. There’s no indication who sent it. There’s only 2 or 3 people aboard who know how to do that. But why would they?

A gentle ping came from his computer.

“Blast!” He opened the message in frustration, stared at it. There were no words, just a piece of the ship’s schematics with an ‘X’ shown blinking at a junction of 2 jeffries tubes. “What in space?” he muttered to himself. Is something going on there that I should know about? Why not send me some word about what’s wrong? Wilson knows better than to play games.

He punched for engineering. “Wilson!”

“Good evening, Mr Smythe. How can I help you?”

She doesn’t sound distressed. “Did you send me a message? Several minutes ago?”

“No, Mr Smythe. I don’t have anything to report. No reason to send a message.”

“I see. Thanks.” He broke the connection. Which jeffries tubes are these? It took him a few minutes, but before long, he left his quarters and headed for the junction he had identified.

It was a T-junction, where a horizontal tube met and stopped at a vertical tube. Smitty was climbing down the vertical tube, but as he approached the horizontal tube, he saw no one, nor anything indicating repairs were needed. “What in black space is going on?” he wondered.

He caught a glimpse of movement in the vertical tube, and as he continued down to see what it was, a soft voice said, “Hello.”

He knew that voice. Recognition made him race down the next few steps until he could see her face. And her cleavage, for she lay prone on the floor of the vertical tube, raised up on her elbows. “Colleen,” he breathed as lilacs tickled his nose.

“Evening, Smit,” she greeted him with a smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d get my message before I had to report for duty.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Hoping to talk to you.”

“Why here? There’s plenty of other places where we could... talk.”

She sighed. “That hasn’t worked out. Either I get distracted, or someone interrupts us.”

There’s not a lot of chance we’ll be distracted here, he thought.

“That’s what I was hoping,” she stated. Apparently, he had spoken out loud.

“Was there something specific you wanted to talk about?”

“Engineering.”

“What about it?”

“Well, I—” She stopped to raise a hand to the back of her neck. “Sorry. I didn’t realize how... painful it would be to talk for any length of time in this... configuration.”

No, craning one’s neck to speak to someone is never comfortable. He took another step down the tube. Their heads were nearly even now. He could see every faint freckle on her face, could almost taste her lips, they were so close. “Is this better?”

“Some,” she admitted.

“What did you want to say?”

“Umm.” She lowered her eyelids and licked her lips, caught the lower one momentarily between her teeth. “What would you suggest I study next?”

“Next! You’ve finished the manual on the engines?”

Now she seemed flustered, embarrassed. “Some time ago,” she admitted.

“Who tested you on it?”

“Well, nobody. I figured it wasn’t anything that I officially needed to know.”

“I like my people to be cross-trained.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “But how does one get trained? If I go back to the Academy, I might not be able to return to the Fireball.”

“The Academy! You don’t go to the Academy for cross-training. You do it here. Hands-on training.”

She raised her head in surprise, ducked as it hit the top of her tube. “Oww!”

This isn’t working. “Come out of there so we can talk properly,” he decided, and grabbed her upper arms to pull her forward.

Her face was next to his, her hands on his shoulders... and then her mouth was pressed against his and the temperature of the tube steadily rose as more and more points of contact between them were made. Eventually, their lips parted, and she had completely emerged from her cross-tunnel, was pressed against him as much as she could be. One of his legs was bent to use a higher stepping point than the other, and she was actually sitting on that bent leg. Both his legs were beginning to ache from the weight they were supporting.

“I think—” he began, but then his mouth found hers again, and there were no more thoughts, only emotions, and plenty of them.

This isn’t real, he realized. This is all a dream.

A strident buzz intruded.

See? There’s my alarm, my blasted alarm, trying to wake me up for another bleak day of— Oh, this feels so good, so right. Forget the alarm. I’ll just be late.

A strident buzz intruded.

He fumbled at her uniform, trying to get her out of it without losing his balance on the foot rests in the vertical tube. It was one of the new uniforms, with the new closing mechanisms, which he hadn’t entirely mastered on his own uni—

A strident buzz intruded.

Her mouth muttered against his. He could hear the words, but didn’t understand them. Small cool hands found their way under his shirt, and he didn’t care what she was saying.

A strident buzz intruded.

Smitty threw his hand out to slap the button on his alarm, but that hand met a lot of hard resistance and pain! “What in space,” he declared, but her mouth covered his again.

A strident buzz intruded.

That’s not my alarm, he realized, and wondered what it was. “What is that noise?” he managed to ask, and tried to push her away a bit, but was hampered by a painful hand. Plus, the tube’s size didn’t leave much room for her to go. “Colleen,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she whispered, and surged forward, kissed him again.

A strident buzz intruded.

Now he insisted on pushing her as far away as he could. “What is that noise?” he asked. “You do hear it, don’t you?”

A strident buzz—

Her face red, she pulled her hands out from under his shirt and touched a small button on one sleeve. “My personal alarm. I didn’t want to be—” Her eyes grew huge and her face went white. “—late for work!” She looked around, as if determining where they were, and how best to leave, then started lowering herself down the tube.

“Wait!” He grabbed her arm before she got completely out of reach. “Do you want to learn engineering?”

She stared up at him in incomprehension, then grinned blissfully. “Yes!”

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, and let her go.

Long after she left, long after the sound of her boots faded into the distance, he stayed where he was, waiting for the fire of their encounter to cool. It had been fiery, had nearly consumed them in a mesmerizing tangle of heat and lust and—

And she wanted to learn engineering.

And he had promised that she could.

Obviously, he could make the arrangements. And just as obviously—after what had just happened—he could have nothing to do with teaching her.

A View from the Other Side

 

Month 12 Day 13

2122 Hours

Oakhurst

 “Hey, Oaks.” Oakhurst looked up from watching two technicians try to play Darznok to see Mac settling in at a table not far away. She slipped a memory chip into a viewer.

What’s she studying now? She passed probation. Rumor has it she could pass probation for engineering, if she wanted. Well, I’ll leave her to her studying. Tomorrow’s valentine’s day, and if I pay any attention to her, the gossips will have us paired off in no time. He turned back to watching, just as one of the technicians died in the game.

“Hello, Mac.”

“Go away, Jones.”

“I’m not here to hassle you. I just wondered what you’re studying now.”

Mac sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Well, have a look.”

Jones glanced at the screen, ready to make some kind of remark, then looked harder. His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What is it?”

“You tell me. You’re the engineer.”

But that doesn’t necessarily mean whatever’s on the screen is part of engineering. Knowing Mac, it could be any part of the ship. Or part of that Yukosk machine she’s been working on with Smythe.

More engineers walked over to view the screen. Once they were there, they couldn’t seem to leave, as they whispered among themselves about whatever they saw on the screen. She must have something rarely needing work on that screen, Oakhurst surmised.

“That’s not anything in engineering,” Adams finally ventured to say.

“It is,” Mac stated calmly.

“No, it’s not,” Adams returned, and looked around the rec room. “Mr Smythe! Could you come over for a moment?”

Smythe joined the group looking over the redhead’s shoulder. “Well, that’s not the way you’d normally see it,” he stated, and sat down next to her. “Do you know what it is, Colleen?”

“Yes,” she answered at once. “It’s a duplex relay manifold.”

Smythe tried to hide his surprise. “Very good. But as I said, you’d never see it from this direction.”

“No,” she agreed, “but I was thinking how much it’s like the Yukoskian part 20911.” She slipped another memory chip into the viewer’s 2nd port and called up another view. “You see? They even look alike, sort of. And if you consider the work they do, they kind of do the same thing, only reversed.”

“Well, there is some slight resemblance,” Smythe allowed, and turned to face the group behind them. “Go along, now. We’re discussing Yukosian technology, and I don’t need you getting it confused with ours.”

The group of engineers left the vicinity, some looking disappointed, others relieved. Meanwhile the conversation between Mac and Smythe continued, in somewhat quieter tones. “What piece is the 20911? I must not have that manual memorized yet, as I don’t remember that one.”

“Oh, it was one of the first pieces we put together. It sits in the bottom layer of Joe, long before we started figuring out what each piece does.”

“Before you started figuring out what each piece does,” Smythe corrected, and lay a hand on her shoulder, let it slide down her upper arm

Oakhurst stiffened, expecting a violent reaction from the redhead. He’d seen it before, at least the threat of violence. But this time... He stared, for she never made a move to strike her superior officer, nor even to remove his hand. That’s not like her. This behavior... is just unfathomable.

Then both techs died in their game of Darznok, producing a technical foul for both of them. Oakhurst turned back to listen to them grumble as they prepared to continue. Darznok was not an easy game. Maybe I should have volunteered to slow it down for them, like Mac did the other night.

It seemed like the rec room was losing its popularity, with a steady stream of people headed for the door. Oakhurst watched several leave, wondering what they planned to do that was more interesting than the games available here. He glanced around the room in confusion. His gaze finally came back to Mac and Smythe.

Smythe had placed his other hand on Mac’s knee, and as they continued to talk about... whatever, he hadn’t kept track of their conversation... that hand began to inch up her leg. And she was doing nothing to stop it, although a quiver said she was aware of it.

The entire rec room was nearly empty, except for him, the Darznok players and a blond flirting with someone in a far corner. Oakhurst bumped the elbow of one of the Darznok players, who complained, until his unexpected move won him the battle.

Oakhurst leaned forward and whispered, “Unless you want to be called on as witnesses, you’d better get out of here.”

One player glanced across the room at the blond and her lover. “That’s just Monroe. She’s always making out with someone.”

“I didn’t mean her,” Oakhurst replied and stood up to leave. The other player stared in shock at the redhead and Smythe and hurriedly got up, headed for the door. Soon the room would be empty except for 2 couples at 2 different tables.

Oakhurst almost made it to the door. But then he stopped, remembering Mac’s normally violent temper. If she reacts to her superior’s transgressions, she’ll be in trouble. If she’s caught not reacting, she’ll also be in trouble. As would Mr Smythe, who’s also my superior. Swallowing his fear, he turned around and walked to their table.

Smythe’s hand had traveled most the way up her thigh, and his other arm was on Mac’s chair back. There were still a few inches between their faces, but it was a compromising position for them to be in. “Mac,” Oakhurst tried to break in.

Smythe didn’t even look around, just issued a terse, “We’re talking,” and continued. “So, if we’d have taken some of our common—”

“Mac, how’s your computer doing?” Oakhurst tried again.

“Fine,” she answered, and a moment later, she looked away from Smythe to the interrupter. Blushing, she dropped a hand over Smythe’s to stop it from traveling any further. “Um, why do you ask, Oaks?”

Anticipating a glare from Smythe, Oakhurst went on, “I know you keep it busy most all the time. Wondered if your being here to study meant your computer needed a tune-up.”

Smythe pulled his wayward hand away and sat up straight, removed his arm from the chair back. His face had gone dusky. “I believe you told me she was capable of taking care of her own computer, Oakhurst.” He didn’t sound angry. More confused. By his own conduct?

“It wasn’t exactly her computer I was worried about, sir,” Oakhurst confessed.

“Yes,” Smythe acknowledged, and scooted a little further away from the redhead. “Well, we’ll have to continue this discussion on Monday, Colleen. When the 4 of us are together.” He pulled both memory chips from the view screen and handed them to her. “Why don’t you run along and discuss computers with Oakhurst?”

“I... yes, sir,” she said and stood up. With a confused look on her face, she headed for the nearest door, not bothering to see if Oakhurst followed her.

Once in the hallway, Oakhurst stopped and let her go her own way alone. Well, I got out of that unscathed, which I wasn’t expecting. It’s kind of like neither one of them was aware of what was happening.