Wrong Place

Wrong Place

Month 4, Day 20

Capt Burke

0807 Hours

"Don't fret," Jane told her pre-occupied chief engineer as they walked down the corridor. "I don't plan on taking your head off, if that's what you're worried about."

Smitty seemed startled. "What? What have I done?"

Finally, something caught his attention. "Nothing too bad, so far. But you have been... absent-minded of late. Is there something you need to talk about?"

"No," he answered shortly.

A very quick and final negative. That's always a bad sign. They turned the corner together, headed for the lift. "That's good. But I do seem to be missing some engineering reports." She signaled for the lift.

"You'll have them in the morning," he muttered.

"Good." He hasn't missed a report in years, so I know something is bothering him. I wish he'd talk to me about it. I hate turning my imagination loose without any information. The lift arrived, and they stepped aboard, to find it already occupied. She looks familiar, but civilian clothes tend to throw me, unless I've known them for years. She took another look at the redhead leaning in the corner and realized the woman's eyes were closed. She's asleep! I don't recognize her, so she's not anybody on the bridge. Probably hasn't been aboard long, either. What's her name? What color uniform does she wear? What's her rank?

"Lieutenant," came a croaked whisper from the opposite corner of the lift.

Jane looked around to find Smitty pressed against the lift wall, his gaze glued to the sleeping figure, his face white. She must be one of his, one he recognizes. Doesn't help me, much. "Lieutenant," she greeted the redhead, and reached out to wake her.

"Captain!" Smitty jumped forward and stopped her. "It's not safe to touch her when she's asleep, Captain! Last time, she gave Tall Bear a black eye!"

This tiny package gave Bear that shiner? I wouldn't think she could reach that high, let alone with enough force... "Halt," she told the lift, for she didn't want to arrive at the bridge and leave the girl sleeping here. One never knew when Winthrop would make an appearance.

The lift gave an almost imperceptible shudder as it stopped, and the redhead began sliding out of the corner, would have landed on the floor if Smitty had not instinctively stepped forward, stopping her fall with his body. His arms, quite naturally, wrapped around her to keep her steady.

No sign of giving him a black eye. That would be striking a superior officer, but if she's asleep, she wouldn't know that. "Anyone that tired should be in bed," Jane stated.

"Bed," the redhead mumbled, and snuggled against the man's chest. Smitty's hands slowly curled into fists and his back stiffened, but his face glistened with sweat and his eyes were glazed.

That's a blasted strong come-on, even if she's awake. Especially in front of me. And he's fighting his inclination to respond, something I've never seen him have to do before. Because I'm here? Or because- "Is she one of yours? An engineer?"

"Communications," he answered.

Same thing; she's under his command. Come on, Jane; check your crew roster. Communications lieutenant. Obviously not Abdulla. That leaves Clines and Chun, who are male, and the new girl. Oh, blast, this is his troublemaker! The one who can't pass probation, and who couldn't take her eyes off him when she first came aboard! Jane noticed one of his hands uncurling to rest on the girl's rear. "Smythe!"

The engineer jerked at the angry bark, which shoved the girl away. The redhead staggered to retain her footing, blinked at her two companions in confusion.

"Take her to bed," Jane instructed.

"What?" Smitty's mouth dropped open in shock, while the girl backed against the wall, her face as red as her hair.

That didn't come out the way I meant it. "Take her to her room-" Dangerous suggestion, from the looks of it. She turned her attention to the girl. "Lieutenant, go get some sleep."

The younger woman tried to stifle a yawn. "I'm meeting Ivy to study."

"I didn't ask where you were headed. I told you to get some sleep!"

"But-"

Jane glared at the girl. "Do I need to make it an order?"

The redhead finally seemed to get her thoughts pulled together. "No, sir. I'll... do my best."

"See that you do," Jane growled, and let most of her anger go. "What deck are your quarters?"

"Deck 4. East," the redhead responded, and the lift started for this new destination.

The small confines were silent, with neither the redhead nor the engineer sending a single glance toward the other. But when the lift door opened and the girl exited, Smitty couldn't keep his eyes off her until the door closed again.

"Bridge," Jane instructed, and considered her chief engineer's pensive expression. I'm standing right here, and obviously, the only thing on his mind is her. If I wasn't here, would he have been right behind her? And it doesn't seem she would turn him away. I can't approve of that, but like Duck said, I wouldn't necessarily know about it, not until it became an issue. Would it be so awful, if that's what they both want? But if I look the other way because their situation is different, it wouldn't be long before everybody's situation was 'special'. Then how could I keep Winthrop in line? Not that I manage it now. "She's a subordinate," she stated flatly.

Startled, Smitty's face went red. "I know."

He's fighting it, he's just not winning. Is she trying to use sex to get past her probation? Didn't I ask Takor to investigate her abilities? I haven't gotten that report yet. "It might be best if you avoid her. As much as possible."

He sighed. "I've been trying."

For all the good it's done him so far. No wonder he never comes to the bridge first thing in the morning any more. And then to find her asleep on the lift! What if he'd been alone? Worse, what if he had been Winthrop? If she thought my bark was a rude awakening- Didn't I tell Duck to fix her sleeping problem? Obviously, he hasn't. That's something I can check into this morning.

Shoulder For Lending

Shoulder For Lending

Month 1, Day 30

Dr Drake MacGregor

2211 Hours

MacGreg smiled at his opponent over the old-fashioned game table. "I said I used to be pretty good at this, Anna. 'Fraid I've gotten rusty over the years."

“There isn’t any ping pong table in the kitchen,” she returned. “So come on. Let’s see which of us is rustier.”

“I’ll play the winner,” offered Lt Cmdr Padilla, tossing her long dark hair behind her as she refreshed her drink.

Drake grinned at the two women. “In that case, the only way I can lose is by...” he paused to think about it, “...well, by losing.”

Lt Cmdr Moor laughed. “If you lose, MacGregor, I’ll buy you a drink.

“As long as it’s not fermented camel milk,” MacGregor grinned. “I’ve never developed the taste.” For a few minutes, he concentrated on the game. Rusty they both certainly were, but as the game progressed, they each warmed up, muscles remembered how it was done, and their paddles began to connect with the ball. Anna was one point ahead when he got ready to serve again.

“Mac?” came tremulous query.

He turned to the redhead. “Hey, Mac! Where-“ Her face is pale, and her eyes are red. “What happened?”

She swallowed, watched him uncertainly. “I flunked.”

“Oh, space,” he swore. She’ll still be studying every night, then.

“I- I-“ She stopped, on the verge of breaking down completely.

He tossed the paddle and ball to the table. “Sorry, Anna. Duty calls.” He turned to face his niece, only to find her turn away. “Mac!”

When she looked back, tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t mean to be a duty, Mac. I don’t mean to mess up dates. I just- I need-“

“And I’m here for you,” he answered, stepping forward. “It was just a friendly game, not a date. And I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant you were more important than a game of ping pong. I’d hoped we’d be celebrating tonight, but-“

“Her first test with Smythe?” Moor asked. “Failing is automatic, isn’t it?”

“It’s not supposed to be,” Drake commented, and remembered he had a test scheduled with Nurse Monroe in the morning.

“I should have passed!” The redhead sniffed. “I studied and studied and I knew it! Better even than at the Academy, but then it was gone! It was just... gone!”

Test jitters. She stepped forward, looking like misery personified. With a nod, he wrapped his arms around her as she threw herself at his chest and let the tears flow.

“You lucky stiff,” Moor muttered.

“Shut up, Moor,” Padilla told him.

“Mac, let’s sit over here,” Drake suggested, indicating a short conversation couch in the corner. Once they were settled, he let her cry, keeping one arm wrapped around her shoulders while the other sometimes smoothed her hair. Eventually, it seemed she might be starting to calm down. “It’s okay, Mac,” he whispered. “You were just nervous, that’s all. You’ve still got plenty of time.

“I’m sorry.” Her shaky voice was barely audible. “I thought I had it under control, and suddenly, I needed a hug. Bugs was busy, and I didn’t know if you were ready, but... Then you called me a duty, and... She stopped talking, took a deep breath and relaxed against his chest. “You’re so good to me.”

“Someone needs to be,” he returned quietly.

“MacGregor!”

A shiver went through him as the icy voice traveled down his spine. “Uh, oh.”

“You will explain yourself immediately!”

“Yes, Captain,” he responded, starting to disengage from Mac. I’m in for it now.

Mac jumped to her feet, stood stiffly at attention. “This is my fault, sir!” Drake stared at her, uncertain she knew exactly what she was trying to get to land on her head.

“You were seducing him?” Burke growled.

“Seduc-!” Mac began before her voice gave out. Her face turned beet red.

“Captain, she failed her test,” MacGregor explained. “I was letting her cry it out.”

“Part of your ‘being so good to her.’ Lieutenant, you don’t have to lie for, make excuses for, or otherwise do favors for a man just because he has more rank. We’ll speak tomorrow about what charges to file. Doctor, you’ll-“

“No!” Mac cried out.

Doesn’t the girl know when to let an officer calm down? “Mac-“

“Shut up,” the redhead told him, and stepped forward. “This is wrong! Captain, rank doesn’t impress me. One look at my file should tell you that! And while you’re looking at my file, you’ll see that I did fail my test tonight. Surprisingly, that upset me, and I needed a hu- shoulder to cry on. So I came to Mac-Gregor, because I didn’t want hands all over me! And that’s what I got! Er, didn’t get.” She paused in sudden uncertainty. “Umm, I kind of got lost on that last bit.”

“Feisty, isn’t she?” Burke asked coldly. “You’ve got her completely brainwashed, Drake.”

“He didn’t brainwash me!” Mac declared.

“Can you prove what she says?” Burke demanded of him.

Of course not. But Jane just used my first name, so she’s not quite as mad as she’s acting. Why?

“Would a witness help?” They all turned to see Anna seated at a near-by table with a glass of tea. “It’s just as they said, Captain. Drake and I were playing table tennis when she came in, very upset. She obviously needed a shoulder, and he offered before I could. They sat down in plain sight, and he’s been a perfect gentleman. Almost a father figure, you could say.”

Mac recoiled from the suggestion. “Oh, space no! Not my father!”

“Uncle,” Drake corrected. “She thinks of me as an uncle. Padilla and Moor-“ He looked around, but the four of them were alone in the rec room. “Never mind.”

“Lieutenant, do you have duty tonight?” Burked asked.

“Yes, I-“ Mac glanced at the clock. “Thank you, sir. May I be excused?”

Burke jerked her head toward the door. With the redhead gone, Drake and Jane regarded each other for a time. Finally, “Does she really think of you as an uncle? The idea seems-“

“She does,” he confirmed. “Her psychology is a little skewed, but not enough to turn her over to Ludwig. She needs people she can trust, and as far as men are concerned, that means a relative. So she ‘adopted’ me.”

Jane shook her head in wonder. “Still, Drake, right here in the rec room?”

“Would you prefer I took her to my quarters? First, I’m not sure she would have gone with me, and the suggestion would have put our ‘adoption’ in jeopardy. I also thought someone might see us.”

“Unlike staying right here.”

“Well...” He shrugged, having explained as best he could.

Jane sighed. “Just... keep a witness on hand, if this happens again.” She turned to leave. “Good night, Anna. It’s good to see you out and about. Feel free to join us for a meal sometime.”

“Thank you, Captain. Good night.”

Drake was alone in the rec room with the Head Chef. He started for her table. “Thank you, Anna. If you’d left when the others did-“

“I couldn’t,” she answered, standing up to face him. “I couldn’t leave that girl in the clutches of a Michael, if that’s what you were.” She cleared her throat. “Thankfully, you aren’t. You did that girl a huge favor, and you did it without expecting any reward. You even would have faced the captain’s wrath without dragging the girl into it.”

“Mac’s a friend. According to her father’s dictates, she isn’t allowed to have male friends, so she adopts them as relatives. I hope I never do anything to make her feel... unsafe... around me.”

“A true gentleman, a true friend. Tell me, do you have plans for the rest of the night?” She waited while an uncertain smile spread across his face, then leaned forward to ask, “Your place or mine?” There was no mistaking that age-old question!

Bad News / Pruning the Bud

Bad News

Month 1, Day 30

Beth Temple

2039 Hours

Beth grabbed Bugalu's hand as it started up her thigh. "I actually want to see the movie," she whispered. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Whatever makes you happy," he replied. "Plenty of time." He pulled her closer, and she settled her head on his shoulder.

Sometime later, "Bugalu!" came a feminine whisper as someone sat down on his other side.

"Double dating, Bugalu?" Beth teased.

"No," he answered, and craned his head around to see the newcomer. "Abdulla? I thought-"

"She flunked," Abdulla stated. "Thought you should know." She started to get up.

"Blast!" he swore softly, and grabbed the dusky woman's arm. "Where is she?"

"I don't know. I stayed behind, trying to convince Mr Smythe she has potential."

"She still has 5 months."

"Exactly what he said! Except he said 'only'!"

"Let me guess, you need to go look for her," Beth suggested.

Bugalu hesitated for a long moment. "No," he decided. "It's her uncle's turn. Anyway, she knows where I am, if she needs me. Thanks, Abdulla." He turned back, wrapped his arms around Beth. But it wasn't the same. His body's here, but not his mind. All the sexual tension is missing. There's no teasing caresses. She hasn't meant to, but Mac's messed up another date.

If it was anybody else, I'd be well on my way to hating her.

Pruning the Bud

Month 1, Day 30

Anna Humara

2058 Hours

Lt Cmdr Anna Humara, Head Chef, studied her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her wet black hair. She briefly considered the menus for the next few days, then dismissed thoughts of work. I'm more than a cook. It's time to remember that.

Her doorbell rang, and she frowned slightly at her reflection. After that hot shower, I was going to read and go to bed. Who'd be coming here, anyway?

Slipping the matching lounger over her nightgown, she answered the door, to find Lt Cmdr Smythe waiting in the hallway. "Anna," he greeted her.

Despite his smile, he was tense. He's as bad now as he was an hour ago. She glanced at the clock. Okay, slightly more than an hour ago. He might even be worse now. "We need to talk," she stated, gesturing for him to enter. He stepped forward, raising his arms to embrace her, but she moved away quickly, settled in an easy chair. "I said talk."

"I just wanted-"

"You want sex," she stated. "Which we've already had today. You've never wanted seconds before. Not even when we were young and wild, before Michael."

Troubled and thoughtful, Smitty sat on the sofa, stared at the floor. "I'm sorry. I've been-"

"Using me," she finished, and he blanched. "I suspected it last week when you called me by another name. You did it again, earlier this evening."

"Oh, Black Space," he swore.

"Don't get me wrong," she told him gently. "We've been friends a long time, and I don't mind helping. From time to time. But I don't want to be a sex toy - again - so asking for that favor twice in one day is too much. How did you deal with it before?"

"Cold showers and... self manipulation," he admitted.

"Hmm. Bummers. Still, if I hadn't come out of hiding, those would still be your means of coping, so be thankful I'm offering any relief at all."

He shook his head, but seemed unable to look at her. "No, Anna. It's not right. I never should have asked it of you, and certainly can't expect you to continue."

"Smitty, we aren't kids any more. We know better than to confuse lust and romance. You wouldn't have gotten any last week if I hadn't put the idea in your head. And you still give as good as you get."

He thought about her words for a few minutes. "Then how often-"

She chuckled. "Let's not get tied down by some arcane timetable for sex. I'm not ready to clip my wings again. I expect freedom to date others, and you should, too."

He sighed. "There's not many of our rank aboard for us to choose from."

"True, so why deliberately narrow our options by looking only at each other?" she asked. "We weren't right - as a couple - years ago, and we still aren't." Our rank isn't completely hopeless, and there's some slightly junior men who look pretty good, as long as I'm careful.

Smitty nodded. "I suppose you're right. I am sorry, Anna."

She smiled. "At least I'm considered a better choice than a cold shower."

"That's a ridiculous comparison, and you know it." He stood up. "Perhaps, another time, then."

"Some other time," she agreed, but didn't stand up. No sense giving him any ideas, like kissing me.

He took a step toward the door, then stopped. "I called you by her name?"

That has him worried. "You did, but you weren't very articulate." Sounded like he wanted Colleen. "Weren't sure what you said, except that it wasn't Anna." Don't recall any Colleens aboard ship, but it's a big ship, and I've been out of touch.

"You haven't asked me who she is."

He wouldn't tell me if I did. "None of my business, Smitty," she answered softly.

He gave her a quick look of thanks and left.

I wish I'd fallen in love with him, instead of Michael. Even now, I almost wish I was Coleen. I hope it's for real between the two of them, that she's good enough for him. He deserves happiness. She headed for her bedroom, unfastening her nightclothes. To space with staying in. Another form of hiding. I need to get out there and see what might be available.

Musical Chairs

Musical Chairs

Shore Leave Day 2 (cont)

Smitty

1934 Hours

     In a small bar, Smitty sat in a booth, staring at his empty glass, trying not to think about what he'd seen that afternoon. What was I doing in the park? I knew MacGreg was taking her 'fishing'! Unfortunately, that seemed to be the only thoughts his mind would entertain. The redheaded mermaid slid an arm over the doctor's shoulder and leaned forward to kiss him. MacGreg pulled her closer.

     "...Honey?"

     Smitty blinked, realized where he was, and looked up at the middle-aged waitress standing near his table. "What?"

     Her lips toyed with the idea of smiling. "I thought you looked a few light years away. I asked if you decided on supper yet, honey?"

     "Not yet," he told her carefully.

     She frowned. "That's not water, you know. And you've drunk a lot of it."

     "Yes." He started to nod, but the movement made him dizzy, so he stopped.

     She sighed. "That's what I thought. Look, honey, you need--"

     I need a woman. From the look on her face, he had said it out loud. He cleared his throat. In for a penny, in for-- "When do you get off?"

     She arched an eyebrow, studied him carefully. "I won't jeopardize my marriage for a one-night stand, so I pass. A fine Fleet captain like you will have no difficulty finding a date."

     "I'm not a captain."

     "Sorry. I never get the ranks right. Anyway, there's several paid-companion services on the station. Do you want the contact numbers?"

     A bright tongue moistened strawberry lips. "I really should be clinging as I do you--" His jaw clenched at the memory, but he managed to push out, "No."

     The waitress shrugged. "Then how about some food? Joe does a mean hash and eggs."

     She's as bad as a mother hen. And she's not wrong. He managed a small smile. "That sounds fine."

     She moved off, was back shortly to set food and silverware in front of him. "None of my business, I know, but if you're that hungry..." She wasn't talking about food. "...surely you could have found a crew woman to... be with?"

     She turned to him, her face lit up-- "I'll be directly under you?" He swore under his breath, shoved the memory away. His hand shook as he picked up the fork, so he put it down again. "It's not that easy." He held up his empty glass. The waitress nodded and left. Not when the one I want is a subordinate. Of course, she's not MacGreg's, so it's perfectly okay for him to... unless she complains about him. Face it, Smitty, she didn't object to his attention. He reached for the glass, remembered it was empty, and began eating.

     People entered the bar, and soon the place was packed. Good thing I got my food when I did. I'll have to give a bigger tip than I'd planned. As he ate, someone jostled his table - hard - and fell into his booth, her rear landing against his thigh. The heat of her body spread quickly, setting his blood on fire.

     "That wasn't nice," she hissed, her hands balling into fists.

     Without thinking, Smitty threw his arms around her and held her tightly. "Let it go, Colleen," he whispered in her ear. "It's not worth landing in the brig."

     She turned her head to see who held her. There's hardly an inch between our lips. I bet hers taste as sweet as they look. She's so beautiful. It's not that far to my hotel--

     "Making your move already?" she breathed. "It usually takes longer than this."

     He was surprised by her pungent breath. "You're drunk."

     "So are you."

     There's no one here to see us. I hope. Kiss her, Smitty, see how she reacts. She's coming closer--

     "Talk about luck landing in your lap." The waitress chuckled as she set another glass of gin on the table. "Will the lady have anything?"

     "Same as me," he stated. Go way. Leave us alone. Colleen, my sweet-- He breathed in her perfume. "Enjoying your shore leave?" What a daft question! Of course she is! She's been with Bugalu, and MacGreg. And who knows who else?

     Her eyes widened, and her voice was higher than normal. "Are you... canceling it?"

     Canceling! "Why would I do that?" I should let go. She'll get the wrong idea. Would it be wrong? I've got several ideas, and none of them feel wrong. Not right now, they don't.

"Captain Nash thought the only R&R I needed was in his bed."

     I could give her R&R in my-- Wait. Nash? That's why-- She's been expecting-- Yes, that's Nash's style. Just like Winthrop. It's why he still drives a tug. And has such a sour wife-- He stiffened, forced his arms to loosen their grip. "Nash is married."

     "Definitely." She shuddered. "She threatened to drum me out of the Fleet."

     "The fact that he's married didn't matter?" It doesn't, to some women."

     She shrugged, and he realized that her hand was on his arm, her thumb softly stroking him through his sleeve. "Well, he's a man. Being married didn't keep him from offering me R&R."

"In his bed," Smitty muttered. No wonder the wife wanted her gone. Obviously, she has no shame for what she's done.

     She blushed, turned her delightful lips away. "He wasn't the only one."

     How many? No, that's none of my business. Confirms what I should have kept in mind; she's not for me. He removed his arms from around her, turned her to face the table, and scooted away. "Eat your supper," he instructed. He pulled his plate to his new location and continued his meal, although the food no longer had any taste. She looked confused, but ate. Silence kept them company for a time.

      "Men... usually offer me a drink, not supper," Colleen stated softly.

     She stepped down, tucked her tiny tools into her cleavage and pulled the zipper up. "Would you care for a drink?" he heard himself ask. "I offered you a drink once," he reminded her. "You refused. Anyway, you're already drunk. What you needed was food."

     Colleen continued to eat, looking thoughtful, even confused. Smitty pushed his empty plate away, tried to keep his mind empty. She took a drink and started coughing. He reached over, slapped her back. "That's not water!" she exclaimed.

     He glanced at what was on the table; two plates that held the remnants of hash and eggs, two glasses that still held some clear liquid. "I'm drinking gin," he stated and put another inch between them. "She probably gave you the same." What's the big deal? She's already plastered. Well, she got a drink out of me, after all.

     Colleen eyed the liquid, sipped, grimaced and set it down decisively. They were silent, watching each other uncertainly, then her gaze fell. "Now what? R&R in your bed?"

      He could feel heat creep into his face - as well as other parts of him. He frowned at confirmation of his weakness. "I never said that," he growled. It's a good thing she made things plain before I stumbled into that pitfall.

     "It seems... expected," she said.

     Meaning I'm no different than Nash or Winthrop. "Not by me," he stated shortly, angry at being seen as just the same as those men. "Don't be insulting. You're on shore leave. Your time is yours." She stared at him for a long time, her green eyes clouded. Is that disappointment? No, if she's disappointed, it's not over me. "You're free to go back to MacGregor, if you want." Like he needs me to send women his way.

     She started to shake her head and stopped suddenly. Too drunk. I know the feeling. "No," she said. "Mac couldn't take anymore, so he turned me loose."

     She wore out MacGreg? And still wants more? "Where's Bugalu?"

     "On duty until morning." She sighed, and her gaze landed on his glass. "Gin? Must be an acquired taste."

     "There's nothing wrong with a good gin."

     "I prefer whiskey," she returned. "And it doesn't have to be good." She looked around to consult the clock. "I don't know what I'm going to do with myself, but I'll find something." She stood up, then paused, her face red. "If you aren't going to be like previous superiors, I don't know how to... please you, Boss."

     What does she want from me? No, that's obvious. At least, what she expects is obvious. That's not acceptable on the Fireball. Jane would skin me alive, and rightly so. "Just do your job, Colleen," he told her gruffly.

     He finished his drink, realized she was gone. A flash of red across the room revealed her speaking to his waitress as she handed over her bank card. She'd better not be paying for her meal! I ordered it for her!

     The waitress returned, handed the redhead a bottle and returned her bank card. He frowned. In her condition, Colleen doesn't need any more to drink. Well, none of my business, unless she lands in the brig.

     The waitress placed a bottle in front of him, began stacking dirty dishes. Smitty stared at the unopened bottle of gin. "I didn't order that."

     "Red sent it. You were doing so well with her, Honey. Why let her get away?"

     "She's a subordinate." He picked up the bottle. It was a very good brand. Probably beyond her means. "Are you sure she meant for you to bring me a bottle? A glass, maybe. Or perhaps she meant her own bottle."

     "Her instructions were clear," the woman stated. "What's her rank got to do with it? You're on shore leave. It looked like you were both willing."

How to explain? Colleen has expectations. "It wouldn't end with shore leave."

     "So what? If you're both willing."

     No, didn't think she'd understand. He shook his head. "We only have one night before... her boy friend gets off duty."

     "Oh." She nodded and picked up the dishes. "You're right. That fire couldn't be put out in one night."

     Not when it's already worn out MacGreg. She just wants entertainment while she waits for Bugalu. He opened the gin and poured himself a stiff drink, which he studied for several minutes. Finally, he tossed it down his throat.

     "Oh, it's you, Mr Smith."

     Smitty looked up to find a beautiful blond smiling at him. "Smythe," he corrected, his tongue thick. Definitely getting drunk. "Who're you?"

     She flushed. "I'm Monroe, the Fireball's new nurse."

     Drat MacGreg! Can't he mind his own business? If I want to get plastered, that's my affair! "You here to detox me?"

     Her blue eyes grew large. "Oh, no!" She smiled lop-sidedly. "Actually, I could use a detox myself." She lurched against the table. "Could I sit down? For a minute?"

     He indicated the opposite seat, and she sat down heavily. Poor girl doesn't hold liquor very well. Doesn't imbibe much, I suppose. Course, I don't know how much--

     "Oh, that was a strong drink," the blond muttered. Just one, then. She tried to sit straight, but had a tendency to lean. "Glad I got out of there. No telling what might have happened. They might have... raped me!" She shuddered, then grabbed the tabletop wildly.

     Smitty patted her hand comfortingly. "You're safe now."

     "Oh, I knew I would be, once I found another Fireball crew member." She adjusted her sitting. "I'm never going to one of those places again!" What kind of place? None of my business. She pulled out her payment card and frowned. "They kept the money! What did I expect? It was obviously a con job! I wish I could have seen that earlier." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "Well, I got out alive. Chalk it up to experience, that's all." She sighed deeply. "I'll go back to the ship, I guess. Can't even afford a sleeping box, with what they left me. Let alone a room with a bathtub!"

     "I have a bathtub," he muttered. Great! Rub salt in her wound. I'm a cad!

     She looked dazed. "Is it-- You're so lucky. Is it one that agitates the water? That's the apex of luxury--a long hot bubble bath!"

     I never saw the charm. A shower is quicker. "It's a 5-star hotel, so I imagine..."

     She bounced in excitement. "Wonderful! Oh, you are a gentleman, to rescue me from my follies and fulfill my deepest longing!" She put a chilled hand over his. "Words can't express my gratitude, but I promise your gallantry won't go unrewarded. Shall we go now?"

     Go where? She can't mean-- She thinks I've invited her to my room! What in space-- He took a drink, stalling for time. She's lovely. She's not engineering. And I need a woman. He smiled, the decision made. "Yes, why not?" He climbed to his feet and waved for the waitress, who was quick to respond.

     "Leaving so early?"

     "I need to settle my bill," he stated carefully, pulling out his bank card.

     "It's been settled," she returned. "Red took care of it."

     A flash of red halfway across the room as she took her bottle and her debit card from the waitress. "She bought herself a bottle," he reminded the civilian.

"Red bought herself a bottle of whiskey," the waitress agreed. "She also bought your bottle of gin, paid for both suppers and settled your tab. You haven't gotten anything since then."

     Something- someone pressed against him. "Was Mac trying to buy brownie points? Some women look for the easy way. Shall we go, Bart?"

     He winced. I hate that name. "Okay." He turned for the door.

     "Don't forget your gin," the waitress reminded him. He stepped back, and she placed it in his hand. "Good luck," she told him softly and threw a glance in Monroe's direction. "Still, you can't get burned when there isn't any fire."

     That kind of fire couldn't be put out in one night. Blast! What business is it of hers who I spend the night with?

     By the time they reached his hotel room, Monroe was clinging to his arm. Like a lovesick puppy. Colleen was holding onto his arm, her thumb softly stroking him through his sleeve. Smitty took a shuddering breath. Not much difference, I suppose. Why, then, did Colleen's touch make my whole body hot, and Monroe's makes me... uncomfortable?

     "Beautiful!" the blond exclaimed when the lights came on.

     Smitty felt a cold chill. The room was identical to MacGreg's. His gaze landed on the mussed bed. There's no mistaking that mass of red curls, even if the face is turned away. No, this is my room. This bed isn't mussed. There's no redhead in it. And won't be.

     "The bathroom's through there," he stated, pointing.

     She turned to him, an invitation on her face. "Will you join me?"

     Churning hot water. Not a good idea, as drunk as I am. Makes me nauseous just thinking about it. "Not in my condition."

     Her arms slid around his neck. "Maybe I should put you to bed." She pressed her lips to his.

     He closed his eyes. This is what I need. All the right curves, and plenty of them. He pulled her close, thrust his tongue into her mouth. "Making your move already? It usually takes longer than this."

     But what he heard was, "That's more like it." Monroe unfastened his tunic and pulled him toward the bed. "I was beginning to wonder if I had your attention, Bart."

     Wish she wouldn't call me that. They fell onto the bed, each too busy groping the other to be graceful. She's got curves. But she's blond. "Lights out," he commanded. Darkness reclaimed the room.

     It didn't take long to reach nakedness. Breathless, he fondled her breasts, anticipating the nipples would come erect. However, like his organ, they only responded to a certain point. I'm stiff enough to show interest, but not hard enough to reach climax. What's my problem? She's got curves, I can't see her hair color--

     He became aware of a weight atop him, of one hand encircling a feminine body to rest on a round buttock while the other fondled a firm, large breast. I have felt Colleen before! And compared to that, this is too... soft. It isn't the same. And there goes what little erection I did have.

     With a sigh, he rolled off the woman and muttered, "Sorry, I can't."

     "What's wrong?"

     There's an edge to her voice. Can't blame her; she expected fireworks, and I can't manage a sizzle. "Too much alcohol," he offered, rather than the truth. "I've been drinking most of the day." I could use another drink now.

     She curled up alongside him. "Maybe later."

     Not likely. "You could take your bubble bath now, if you like."

     "Bubble bath? Oh, I guess I'm also drunker than I thought. I'll stay here with you."

     Which means I can't get a drink. Too early to sleep. Would be insulting to turn on the viewer. All I can do is lay with this woman - who I can have - and try not to think about another woman - who I want, but can't have. How did I wind up in this mess?

Term of Endearment / Loneliness

Term of Endearment

Day 3 (cont)

Smitty

1532 Hours

 

The work day was finally ending.  It had been a nerve-wracking day of complete silence. Smitty stopped working to watch the redhead from the corner of his eye for a few minutes. She hasn't once asked for help. But she's been slow, as if she has to think intently about each project.

He turned back to work, reached for a tanderin wrench. A cold wrench I understand, but soft? Looking down, he saw his hand around hers, which was wrapped around the tool he wanted. "You have warm hands, dear," she muttered.

He let go at once. "Let me know when you're done with it." She gave one short nod, and that was the end of their conversation.

He glanced at the chronometer as she completed her project and closed the panel. Too late to start the next one. "Do that tomorrow, Lieutenant. There's not enough time to get a proper start. Report back at 0800."

She collected her tools. "Yes, dear."

He stiffened. "What did you call me?"

She faced him, face white, eyes confused. "What do you mean?"

He faced her squarely, determined to settle this. "There's been times when you called me 'dear’, instead of the 'sir' I'm sure you meant." She looked shocked, and then flushed deep red. "Let's not get the two terms confused again," he told her.

"No, dear," she mumbled, then raised her face to bark out, "No, sir!"

"Dismissed."

He watched as she put away her tools. With a glance his way, she turned for the door. "Good night, dea-Sir!" She hurried away.

He finished his own chore and closed his panel. It occurred to him that his nerves were frayed. Too much silence. I'm not used to it. Somebody's always talking on the bridge, or in engineering. I hadn't thought this one to be so quiet. I must have scared her really badly yesterday. Well, probably a good thing. I'll just stop at the nearest recroom and get a cup of tea. That'll settle my nerves.

 

 

Loneliness

Day 3 (cont)

Capac

1613 Hours

 

Capac sat down heavily and shuffled his deck of cards. Days on the bridge without Bugalu are so boring. I can never think of anything to say to Amano, so the day drags. If I were Bugalu, I wouldn't have trouble talking to Amano. Or any woman. He sighed. If I were Bugalu, I'd have a date, not play solitaire all the time.

He looked up when Mac entered, her face red. She crossed to the dispenser, manipulated several buttons, and was rewarded with a tall iced drink. When she turned around, she almost ran into the engineering ensign standing directly behind her.

"Hello, beautiful."

"Ensign," she greeted him, frowning. I don't think she likes him. She tried to step around the man, but he blocked her path again. She stared at him coldly. "Did you want something?" I’d be frozen solid by a voice that cold.

But the ensign was too hot-blooded to be stopped by a chilly reception. "You know what I want." He started to step forward, but her slim hand on his chest kept him at arm's length. "MacGregor's not here to keep us from going to my quarters. I can treat you a lot better than that old man."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "You're not my type." She gave a little push, which shoved him backward several feet.

That won't do it. Jones doesn't accept rejection.

"What did MacGregor promise you, beautiful? Because you can't actually enjoy sleeping with a man as old as your father."

“Father!” She threw her drink at him. Jones ducked, the drink sailed past him and struck Mr Smythe's shoulder as he walked in. The entire drink soaked into his uniform.

"Oh, dear," Mac squeaked, suddenly white. She stared at her commanding officer in dreadful anticipation.

Already got her 'welcome aboard' chewing out, I guess. That tradition never made sense to me. But nobody ever asked me.

Smythe glared at her before he spoke. "All right," he growled. "What's going on?"

Nearly every person in the room began to speak, except Mac. Smythe studied her; folded arms, lips pressed together, white face. Smythe took a step closer, and the other voices died. "Was that your drink, MacDowell?"

She raised her face to look him squarely in the eyes. "Yes, sir." Her head canted as she shifted her gaze to Jones, now behind the older man. "I apologize. My aim was off."

"Sir, she tried to assault me!" Jones stated.

Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm sure she had a reason," Smythe stated, startling her. After a moment, he told her, "What was your reason?" She opened her mouth, blushed furiously, and refused to answer.

"I want to press-" Jones began, but Smythe glared at him and he shut up.

"I'm waiting for your explanation," Smythe reminded the redhead.

She lowered her head, took a deep breath. "Ensign Jones made a remark that ... that I took exception to."

"So you threw a drink at him?"

"He was too far away to punch," she muttered.

Smythe seemed shocked. "If he'd been closer, you'd have hit him?"

She shrugged, and hugged herself tightly. "I usually do. In these instances."

"Not anymore!" Smythe growled. Her head jerked up, her face pasty as she stared at him. "You can't go around hitting your crewmates! You can't, and you won't! From here on out, you walk away from insults! Understood?"

"But he-"

"Do you understand?" Smythe bellowed.

She swallowed and hoarsely said, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Then I won't be hearing about any outbursts on your part." He paused to watch her for a moment, as if expecting her to protest. She stood where she was, staring at the floor, her face now red. Calming down, he ran his fingers over his wet tunic and started for the door.

"Mr Smythe," she called, her voice tight and hoarse.

The senior officer faced her again. "What?"

"If I can't hit him, what do I do with him?" Jones leered, and she tensed. "Stop it! I want nothing to do with you, can't you get that through your thick skull?"

Smythe whirled his head in time to catch the leer on Jones' face, although it was quickly erased when the ensign realized his superior was watching. "Been pestering you for a date?"

"He's been pestering me for sex! I don't recall any mention of a date!"

Smythe shook his head. "That's not the way to--." He glanced back at the redhead again. "You made it clear you weren't interested?"

"Repeatedly!"

"Yet he keeps asking?"

"Repeatedly!" she confirmed.

"Then report him," Smythe told her succinctly.

She snorted and crossed her arms again. "Like that will accomplish anything! Nobody pays attention to that!"

"I pay attention to it," Smythe growled. "If that's not enough for you, Captain Burke pays attention to it." The redhead sighed and lowered her face, shaking her head.

Smythe headed for the door, paused as he reached the ensign. "Mr Jones."

"Sir?" the young man asked, swallowing.

"We've had that conversation before," Smythe told him.

"Yes, sir," Jones agreed uncomfortably.

"You will not be happy if we wind up having that conversation again," Smythe warned him, and walked out.

Jones stared at the redhead for a moment before he left. Mac took a deep breath and threw herself in the chair opposite Capac, wrapped her arms around her lowered head. "Bad day?" Capac asked. Brilliant! Like it wasn't obvious!

With a low growl, she suddenly started pulling her hair out of its bun, and then shook her head until the red curls bounced free. "I feel like screaming."

Capac nodded. "I've felt like that, sometimes."

"I needed that drink!" she groaned.

She's melodramatic. "Get another iced tea," he suggested. "The dispenser will give you all you want."

"Iced-" She stopped, a funny look on her face. Her eyes fell on the cards spread out before him. "Black queen on red king."

"Where?" He studied the cards.

"There. The king of diamonds," she pointed out.

"I can't do that!" he protested. "That king is sitting on down-facing cards. Putting more cards on top of it is against the rules."

"No, it's not."

He frowned at her. "I know how to play solitaire." I do it every night.

"I know 257 versions, and none of them have that silly rule," she stated.

He stared at her. "Two hundred fifty-seven versions?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Space! I thought I was lonely! But she could have any man she wants! Why spend so much time playing cards? He slid all the cards together and began to gather them. "There must be something else I can do with my time."

"Of course there is." She smiled. "Just look around, see what others are doing."

"What are you doing this evening?" I can't believe I asked!

"I'll be in the gym for a while," she answered easily. "Probably." She sighed. "And then I hit the books." Definitely gotten her 'welcome aboard' chewing out. Poor girl. She rose to her feet. "Maybe I'll see you there."

"In your books?" he asked in confusion.

She laughed. "In the gym, silly. Everybody should get exercise once in a while." She bounced out of the room.

"Capac's got a date," Fiala stated.

"What?"

The other man slugged him gently on the shoulder. "Capac, we all heard it. She’ll meet you in the gym. Promised you extra exercise, too," Fiala added. "I'm jealous."

"It's not what you think," Capac said as Fiala walked away. I wish it was.