The Contest (Part 3)

Month 9 Day 9

(Shore Leave Day 10)

1410 Hours

Bugalu

Previously:

The Samson stopped lagging behind and seemed to come willingly. Bugalu added speed and put the Firebrand into a corkscrew orbit around the cargo ship, changing the size of the corkscrew at irregular intervals. Now he could take an occasional moment to aim and fire a gun himself, though he wasn’t sure he actually hit anything.

“Shields, 70%” YD stated.

“On it.” Mac stood up, flipped a couple buttons, opened up one of the top-side panels and began working inside.

Bugalu noticed a yellow light go orange. “We’ve had several hits at decks 9 & 10, NNW. Shields there are at 25%”

“On it,” Mac acknowledged, and kept doing what she was doing.

“Getting reports of minor injuries,” Beth reported. “Nothing that won’t wait. More ships are approaching, mostly in groups, but there’s 2 single ships approaching at high speed. One appears to be Scissan and the other hotheads.”

“How many crew on the Scissan?” Mac asked.

“Ummmm, over 50,” Beth answered.

“Doesn’t sound right. A typical Scissan ship holds 5 or less,” Mac stated, and finished what she was doing, started something else.

The orange light on Bugalu’s console turned bright green, but the other lights depicting the shields went dark. “What happened to the shields?”

“If I did it right, I boosted them,” Mac answered. “Now, I wonder what this knot of wiring is supposed to do?”

“She did what?” Smythe asked in the other room.

“Mr Smythe, I need more power!” Burke snapped at him.

Bugalu slipped his ship east to avoid an incoming shot. “Mac, I’ve got 1 green light on my shields display and the rest went dark!”

“I didn’t want to burn the lights out, but they should come back on when the shields get down to their usual 100%.”

“How much did you boost them?”

“75%. I think. That green light is where they were down to 25%, right?”

“Right.”

“Then maybe I’ve done it right.”

“How much more could you boost them?”

“Don’t know. I’m working mostly by guesswork.”

I doubt that. She must have studied even more than I’m aware of. “Beth, how many hotheads in that individual ship?”

“Supposedly, 500.”

Doesn’t sound like hotheads; their crews are usually a dozen or less, because they can’t get along among themselves. And they have a larger group of fighters by having a group of ships, instead of only one. So one of these singles is probably the captain’s team, disguised so we won’t recognize them. Guess I’ll have to play it by ear. “Mac, can we jam communications between these ships?”

“What?” She pulled her attention out of the interior of her console, if not her hands. “Sure, let’s do that.” Both of her hands emerged and flashed across her console. “Any particular group, or all of them?”

“Everybody you can reach.”

“You got it.” She flipped a switch and went back to inspecting the innards of her console.

Something is wrong. This is too easy. He studied his console, but found nothing except the dark shield lights that apparently meant everything was good there. A slight shiver in his chair brought his eyes to the screen, where he caught the tail-end of an expanding dispersal of an energy bolt in the shield. That doesn’t seem as large as it should be. Even with shields at full power, a hit should have sent a grumble through the entire ship.

Well, if this doesn’t show Mac – and Smythe – that she belongs in engineering, I can’t image what will.

Just to be safe, he rolled the Firebrand 180 degrees. Since his ship was fairly cylindrical, maybe his opponents wouldn’t realize his shields’ ‘tender’ spot had moved. Or maybe its new position would make it more difficult for them to hit. If they even realize we have one. Or would have, if Mac hadn’t augmented the shields somehow.

“Mac, I’m losing power in sick bay,” Beth stated. “I mean, I don’t have any patients yet, but… Oh, even life support is effected.”

“I’m tapping the engines pretty hard,” Mac returned, and turned to him. “Bugsy, how long do these games last?”

“As long as they need to,” he answered. “How long can we do without life support, Beth?”

“In the heat of battle? 2 or 3 hours, although it might get stuffy and chilly.”

“Mac, how good a grip do we have on the Samson?”

“As good as I can make it. As long as you don’t try to double our speed in under a minute…”

“Noted.” He studied his screen for a few seconds. The hothead and pirate groups were engaging each other. The 2 individual ships were mixed in, with several others sitting on the edges. It seemed like only nominal attention was being given to the Firebrand and Samson. “Seal all windows and dim interior lights by 50%. Shut off all exterior lights and life support. Keep the tractor beam and the shields strong, but give me as much speed as you can. Oh, and keep the jamming going, but fade it out over the course of 5 minutes. Got all that?”

“On it,” Mac confirmed, her hands already flying over her console. The lights dimmed. “Ready.”

“Let’s go,” Bugalu told his team, and pushed the Firebrand faster. How long before our opponents realize I’ve left?

The center of his screen showed only stars and asteroids. The scavengers were slowly sliding to the sides of the screen, and therefore being left behind. They were engrossed in fighting over the prize, and possibly didn’t realize the prize was moving away. Hope I can get up to a speed they can’t match before they decide to follow.

One ship was blasting away at any and all of the other ships. It was taking a few hits, but it kept flipping and rolling, changing position and speed so often, the chances that any one section of shield becoming fragile were practically nil. “Who are they?”

“Sensors say that’s the Scissan ship,” Beth offered.

“Captain?” YD offered.

Of course! An individual ship that somehow presented itself as a too-large ship of Scissans. Did their team do that, or is it part of the game?

The battle was behind them. Some ships decided they’d had enough and took off, but other small groups were still coming, eager to see what they could commandeer. The captain’s ship intercepted a trio that had decided to follow the Firebrand and engaged them. Bugalu pushed for more speed.

“Bugs, the engines...” Mac began softly.

“How long can you give me?”

“I don’t know. Minutes. Maybe.”

“Make them last as long as you can. We’ve got to get away. You turned off the jamming, right?” He turned the ship to run closer to a large asteroid. A dwarf planet, probably, it’s the right size.

“Jamming, jamming,” Mac was muttering to herself, and quickly studied every inch of her console. “Right. That’s off.”

Hope this works. “All crew members, hang on!” Bugalu torched all the maneuvering jets on his west side to slam his ship - and the tractored cargo ship - behind the dwarf planet. The Samson’s mass sent the 2 connected ships into a lop-sided twirl around each other. Between this and the corkscrew orbit, if they do find us, they’ll have a hard time targeting us. But I hope they don’t find us.

He couldn’t think in directions anymore; all he could do was keep his half-planned route in mind and guide the ship [Two ships, not just one. Got to keep that in mind.] for the next asteroid to hide behind for a few seconds. In this way, he hoped to put distance and several asteroids between him and all those other ships.

Another Dream?

Month 6 Day 11

Smythe

0048 Hours

Smitty barely caught himself before he fell out of his chair.

"Are you alright?" Takor raised its head to study him.

Smitty was trapped in a pair of green eyes, so much like- Transparent nictitating eyelids slid over the green pupils and back again, chasing that thought out of his mind. He looked away and regained his seat. "Yes, I... lost my balance." He cleared his throat. "Have you given any thought to Nurse Temple's idea that these scriggles might represent some sort of alien blood?"

"They might," Takor returned. "The writing directly above represents the basic chemicals in human blood. I believe I have identified the 'squiggles' for hydrogen and oxygen, but they are configured differently, so if this is blood, it is neither human nor Sciss. Nor..."

Smitty's hearing faded as he fought a huge yawn. When he finally finished it, he opened his eyes wide, trying to stay awake. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last bit."

"He said it isn't the blood of those Penoc creatures, either," Burke stated from her seat at Navigation. "You're dead on your feet, Smitty, and you aren't even on your feet. Go take a nap."

"Captain, I-"

"I've checked the records," she interrupted. "I know how long you've been working." When he hesitated, she went on. "Takor's people don't sleep as much as humans, so he can continue working on that puzzle. And Abdulla can handle repairs to communications."

He glanced at Abdulla, currently seated at the Engineering console. "She's otherwise occupied," he muttered.

The lieutenant glanced his way. "Neither one of us can actually work on communications until Fabrication sends up new parts."

"Smitty, go take a nap!" Burke repeated.

"Yes, captain," he acquiesced, and carefully started for the lift.

Before he reached it, the door opened, and 3 techs got off. Their coveralls were red, but Smitty couldn't remember their names.

"Mr Smythe," the male greeted him. "Dr Koontz told us to report to the bridge, but we aren't any of us trained for bridge work."

"Good, more newly healthy," Burke stated. "Good night, Smythe." As he stumbled forward again, he heard her ask, "Where are you normally assigned?"

"Laundry," the male answered, while the women's answers were "Hydroponics" and "Fabrication."

Smitty stumbled off the lift with no memory of the lift ride. As the doors closed behind him, he had a wild thought this might not be the right deck, but a glance around said it was. He plodded forward, toward his quarters, which were down this corridor and a jog to his left. A somewhat longer jog, for he had no need to enter his living room. The way he felt, he'd be lucky to manage that 'somewhat longer jog' to go straight to his bedroom. One foot, the other foot. Keep going. Almost there.

He blinked as he stumbled into something, realized it was the foot of his bed. The blanket was a jumble atop it, and that confused him, until he remembered the entire crew was sick, and nobody had been around to make his bed in... weeks? Months? Can't remember. Not important.

He shucked off his boots, lowered his trousers, crawled onto his bed from the foot. When his arms gave out, his head wasn't on the pillow, and his feet hung over the end, but he didn't care. "Four hours," he muttered at his alarm clock. "Lights out."

She's here, standing over my bed, watching me. This dream, again! And me too tired to resist. Why resist? Come here. He reached out, but she backed away hurriedly, bumped into his dresser against the other wall. Strange. She's always been willing before. The seductress, in fact. Her lips curled into a sad smile, she shook her head, blew him a kiss, and was gone. He heard the door close.

Strange variation of that dream. Wonder what it means. Maybe she's finally given up on me, she's moving on. At long last, that door has closed. He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed into his mattress.

His eyes flew open. I heard the door close. "Lights on," he requested as he sat up. His over-tired eyes smarted in the sudden brightness. His face burned at the thought that she had seen him semi-clothed. Ridiculous. It was completely dark. Then how did I see her? I didn't, it was a dream. Variation on a theme. But I heard her leave.

He climbed out of bed and pulled his pants up from around his calves, stepped over to the opening to his living room.

She wasn't there. His eyes took in the entire room in an instant - computer, desk, liquor cabinet, couch, everything - and she wasn't to be seen. He took a deep breath and let it out as utter fatigue washed through him again. I have something that vaguely resembles a dream I've had before, and I go crazy. Which isn't far to go, considering how close to insanity she's driven me. Space, I need sleep.

He turned back, to repeat his climb into bed. "Lights out." He stopped unfastening his trousers as the brightness was replaced by a deep red glow. His head swiveled to stare at the computer screen, which was no longer dark, but bathed most of his living room in a ruby sheen.

Legs wooden, heart frozen, he managed to sit at the desk and forced his eyes to try to focus on the screen. I left this display with normal parameters. Now it's down near infrared again. She was here! I was too tired to notice. If she's deaf, she wouldn't have heard me, but if she had the lights off - like in Takor's quarters - them coming on when I entered would have alerted her. I'm surprised she didn't just run, as soon as- Oh, Black Space, she really was in my bedroom, looking at me!

He jerked his thought away from that idea, reached out to adjust the screen. Why would she come back here? Because this is the last place anyone would look for her, having found her here once? Or was she doing something here she can't do anyplace else? He flipped through the open files, sent copies to Takor on the bridge. She could read technical manuals on nearly any screen, but these theoretical magazines are only available here, in my cabin.

She can't pass a simple communications probation test, there's no way she could make sense out of these magazines!

Worker Bees / Strangeness

Worker Bees

Month 6 Day 10

Stephanie Freyer

1202 Hours

788 words

“Wow,” Bosiljevac said, rubbing his jaw. “She really packs a wallop.”

“She’s a heavy-worlder,” Stephanie told him without any sympathy. “You’re lucky she didn’t have any room to swing back here.”

“I knew she was a heavy worlder. Guess I didn’t think about what that meant.”

“Of course not.” She detached the connections for another burnt board. “You’re a man.”

“Let me guess. You think all men are evil.”

Did he forget the part where he was brought here to work? “No,” she contradicted, pulling that board out. “I like men fine. Except when they’re being stupid.”

“And what does that mean?”

She stared at the many boards in front of him that he had not even started to disconnect. Then she gave him a scornful look with one eyebrow raised. Eventually, he started working. “Mac didn’t even know your name,” she responded. “What made you think she’d welcome having your hands all over her?”

He shrugged. “All the guys have been talking about her, saying— I just thought I’d... seize the opportunity.”

“In other words, you didn’t think. Not with your brain.”

“Okay. I made a mistake.”

“It could have cost you your life. She pumps iron with Ferguson and Tall Bear, under her gravity! They have to alternate days, but she does it every day.”

Bosiljevac frowned. “Okay! You made your point!”

They worked in silence for a time, then Bosiljevac abruptly asked, “You been sick yet?”

“No. I’m not looking forward to it.”

“It’s bad. You won’t die, but you’ll wish you would, just to get things over with. At least, I did, and when they released me, they said I’d had a light case!”

Stephanie shivered at the thought, but didn’t respond.

“You know my name, right?” he asked.

She glanced at him and inched away, ostensibly to more easily reach more boards. “Yes, but we’re here to work, so keep your hands to yourself.”

He grimaced. “I was just thinking - with my brain - that after you’ve had these measles, and things start settling down, maybe we could see a movie together?”

“Measles? I thought it was a flu.”

“I don’t remember what the medicals called it. But everybody who has it is covered in red spots, so it’s measles to me.”

“Oh.” She glanced at him again. Other than his ‘seizing the opportunity’ with Mac, I haven’t heard anything unforgivable about him. “Maybe.”

Mac’s voice came softly floating up between charred relays and wires. “Now that you two have that settled, could you be quiet a minute? I’m trying to listen.”

“To what?” Bosiljevac asked.

A chuckle gurgled up through the soot-covered equipment. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t need silence.”

They continued to work without speaking, although their tools sometimes clinked against the equipment. There was muted conversation from the bridge proper, and Stephanie wondered if Mac had mistook that slight drone for something else. By now, she had cleared out enough burned boards to occasionally get a glimpse of the redhead through what remained of the communications equipment. Space, she looks completely worn out. Ironic that she can’t pass probation, but now she’s in charge of a complete rebuild. If that doesn’t- what’s that?

A slow whisper of a wheeze had begun, seemingly from within the equipment. “Mac, do you hear that?”

There was no answer. Peering through the blackened interior, she saw Mac’s white hand reach for a particular circuit board that was glowing blue. Through another piece of equipment, she saw the other hand push against a set of relays as the redhead stretched that last inch to grasp that board- Blueness swallowed both hands. “Mac?”

“Leave her alone,” Bosiljevac suggested. “She probably dozed off. Rumor says she hasn’t passed probation yet, and she’s been studying day and night- OW!” He stuck a finger into his mouth.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so. Guess I found some of that residue they warned us about.”

A wave of fatigue swept through Stephanie as she peered through the equipment, trying to see the redhead. All she saw was a glimpse of a white hand as the other woman left the console. She must be okay, then. She leaned her head against the equipment frame. How does she do it? She’s pulled several 24-hour shifts this past week; it’s the talk of the ship. But I’m only in the middle of my 2nd 8-hour shift, and all I want to do is sleep.

“I’m taking you to sick bay.”

Stephanie couldn’t open her eyes to look at him. “You’re the one who got zapped,” she muttered.

“But you’re the one who just broke out into a million red spots.”

“It’s about blasted time,” she mumbled, and fell into deep darkness.

Strangeness

Month 6 Day 10

Takor

1221 Hours

138 words

Takor’s head ruffle automatically stiffened and relaxed to shake off the insect that had bitten it. There are no insects aboard ship. The Sciss straightened in its chair and turned. Mac stood nearby, staring at her hand with wide eyes and a puckered forehead. Mac is whiter than normal. It- She seems confused. Surely she knows her own hand? “Lieutenant?” it queried. Receiving no answer, it rose to its feet.

Mac looked up sharply, suddenly afraid. Takor stepped toward her, wondering at her behavior. She backed up hurriedly, fell against the communications console, which set off a high-pitched squeal. Startled, she jumped forward, brushing one of Takor’s arms as it instinctively raised them to protect its ears. He saw black sparks shoot between them as they were forcefully thrown apart, but all he saw after that was blackness.

A Theory

Month 6, Day 1

Capt Jane Burke

0756 Hrs

Jane was a little surprised to see Takor on the bridge when she arrived. However, she had already received a snarled ‘no’ when she asked Smythe over breakfast whether MacDowell had passed last night. Takor had been sure she would, so perhaps it was trying to ascertain what it was about the chief engineer that kept the girl from remembering what everybody else said she knew. After seeing Smythe’s mood that morning, Jane hadn’t asked for details, but perhaps Takor could fill her in before it went to bed.

Jane sat in her command chair and slowly rotated, watching all the various shift change procedures taking place. Abdulla looked abnormally pale, and it was the redhead who seemed to be actually doing the shift-change procedure for communications as the women talked, but Jane didn’t give it much thought until she heard Abdulla demand, “How can you be so stubborn?” And then, “Mr Smythe! Would you please tell Mac- Dowell that I am here for my shift - as much of it as I can manage - so she can leave?”

Smythe had not been coming to the bridge in the mornings, so Jane was surprised to hear his name used. A glance toward the lift revealed Smitty staring at the communications officers, his own face white except for two bright red flags on his cheeks. He stepped toward them on wooden legs.

Abdulla said something, but Jane couldn’t tell if Smitty heard her. Then the redhead opened her mouth, but only got out 3 words before the engineer help up a hand to stop her. “Not another word,” he said. “Is the change of shift procedure completed?”

“Yes,” Abdulla stated, while the redhead-

Takor suddenly bolted away from the communications console. The lizoid didn’t even hesitate as it grabbed Jane’s arm, and hurried her toward her ready room. “I must speak with you!” it exclaimed, its voice thick and labored.

“But-“ Jane started to protest, then marveled at the alien’s strength, to force-march her across the bridge with hardly any effort.

They entered her office and Takor released her arm as the door closed behind them. She watched as the alien staggered across the room to lean against the bulkhead and breathe deeply. Blossom sat at her desk in the corner, her eyes wide as she stared at the Sciss. Jane sat at her desk, remained silent until Takor began to regain its composure. “What is this about?”

Takor’s head fins - normally kept folded along its skull - fluttered for a moment in embarrassment. “You asked me once if anyone aboard could... arouse me. Sexually.”

Okay, not something we would discuss on the bridge. Nor do we need witnesses. “Blossom, take a break,” Jane instructed.

“Captain?” her yeoman protested.

Jane turned to face her. “This is a personal discussion, yeoman. I would not let anybody listen if you wanted to discuss this type of subject. I won’t treat Mr Takor any differently.”

Blossom frowned, but stood up. “Yes, captain.” She paused at the door for a quick look back, as Takor staggered to a chair. Its uncertain footing seemed to reassure the younger woman, and she left.

Jane turned back to the Sciss. “It seems an unusual question for me to ask you, but if you say I did, then I must have.”

Takor riffled its upper lip, then changed its response to a slow human-like nod. “At the time, I did not believe it possible. I have been assigned here a good amount of time, and there had never been any indication...” It paused to smooth down its head fins with both hands, something Jane hadn’t seen it do since it had first arrived. “It now appears I may have been... mistaken.”

Jane leaned forward. “Are you saying that someone has-“

“Not one somebody,” it interrupted. “However, the combination of two... of a particular two somebodies... appears to produce pheromones sufficiently close to those of my own species so as to-“ Takor took another deep breath and its head fins fluttered restlessly.

Jane knew what pheromones were. Supposedly, humans produced them, but she had never personally been aware of them. A piece of her had doubted their existence, at least in humans. “Let me see if I understand. No one human has the ability to arouse you. But when a particular pair of humans is in your vicinity, you do become aroused. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

There’s been plenty of reports about Sciss pheromones, so I guess humans have them, too. “Even if they are not aroused?”

Takor hesitated. “I am not a good judge of human arousal.”

No, I don’t imagine so. “Okay, which-“ Do I really want to ask? There are a lot of possible answers that I do not want to hear. Of course, I wouldn’t have any proof; there’s nothing in Fleet regulations about a couple producing sexual pheromones. Still, I hate being blind-sided. “Which pair?”

“Lt Cmdr Smythe and Lt MacDowell.”

Jane winced. I should have known. Her behavior when she came aboard, his behavior during our review of new crew members... I didn’t want it to happen, so I turned a blind eye. This can only spell trouble for one or both of them. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, to have to endure that olfactory assault during her tests.”

“I have not endured it well,” Takor responded. “Both times I attended the test, I cut it short by ordering the females out, to remove the mixed pheromones. But I was not sure which pair of humans was the source of my... response until this morning. It would have been unseemly to order anyone off the bridge, yet I had a most urgent need to remove myself from the... stimuli. Therefore, I left.”

And drug me across the bridge like so much baggage. I can’t really blame it. The alternative of staying there would have been... a big mess. Would it have attacked one of them? And if so, which one? “Do the Sciss have a word for rape? Do you know what it means?”

“I have had the word explained to me. It was a difficult concept. We do not have it on Sciss, since each responds to the other equally.”

So, no answers to that question. “Never mind. Are you recovered? Calm?”

Takor’s head canted to one side and a blunt claw manipulated a fin to get it to cover the ear flap. “Yes. The pheromones are not present here.”

“Good. Thank you for your report. Do not plan to attend any more testing sessions of Ms MacDowell.”

“She has not passed,” it stated.

Which might be because it prematurely ended the tests, twice. “I know. I will have to find some answers, but finding them will not involve you.”

“Very well. I will return to my normal routine tomorrow.” The lizoid rose and left.

Jane headed back for the bridge, stopped when she saw Smitty talking to the day bridge engineer. “Smitty, this is your day off. What are you doing here?” And why did it take me so long to remember that this is his day off?

Startled, the man looked up. “I... lost several of my crew to this... illness, captain. I thought it best to be sure all the necessary positions are covered.”

“Very well. You can have half an hour to do that. After that, get out of uniform and have some fun.”

The engineer frowned. “Yes, captain.”

Changing her mind, Jane returned to her ready room. I have a lot of thinking to do. Something I had hoped wouldn’t happen is on the verge of boiling over. How do I nip it in- well, it’s no longer in the bud stage.

Do I let her fail, get busted in rank and sent back to- probably back to tugs, if not dismissed altogether. That’s not fair.

Black space, other senior officers have spouses! How did they manage it? Got married when they were younger, I suspect. And what makes me think these two have any such intentions? Maybe all they have between them is lust!

I hate these kinds of problems.

Takor’s Experiment

Month 6 Day 1

Takor

0733 Hours

Takor knew, without consulting a chronometer, that the end of the shift was approaching. It could feel the touch of fatigue in the humans on the bridge, along with the first stirrings of anticipation. However, Lt MacDowell, who was deep in an explanation of her extended family in response to one of its questions, had an enormous weight of fatigue in her body, and seemed to experience no anticipation for the shift’s end.

Takor had its own growing anticipation, but not because of fatigue. Its main reason for coming to the bridge tonight was to be here during the shift change. Over the past week, it had not noticed a change in personal human pheromones that would explain... Except for last night. But its curiosity was aroused, and therefore, it would not leave the bridge until after the day shift arrived. Then, it planned, it would check at its office, give some instructions to its yeoman, and go to bed.

It realized MacDowell had stopped talking. “It seems very complicated. How do you keep them all straight?”

“I do have a large family,” she admitted. “But surely there must be parallels in your own culture. You have 2 parents, as do I. Other than your pair-sibling, what do you call other children of your parents?”

“Siblings.”

She gave a small nod. “Humans call them brothers and sisters, depending on their gender. In my case, I don’t have any sisters, only brothers; all my siblings are male. What about the parents of your parents?”

“Normally, we use that person’s name, but we do have 4 different phrases we could use, depending on which parent of which parent we mean.”

“We call them grand-parents. Although, we, too, have phrases to designate which grandparent we mean, if that’s necessary. What about the siblings of your parents?”

“They are simply members of the clan. Tribe. I don’t think humans have an exact word for what I mean.”

“Probably not. Clan, tribe, kin, relatives, extended family... Multiple words with multiple meanings, depending on who’s using them and what they are trying to say. Many times they don’t even translate exactly into another human language.”

“How many languages do you know?”

“I grew up with Gaelic and English, as well as Welsh. After 4 years at the Academy, I had a working knowledge of almost all the Earth languages. Except the native North American tongues and indigenous Australian. Turns out few of those wander into space, but Tall Bear thinks that will change. I’ve picked up enough Apache from him to make myself understood. Mostly. Working on tugs didn’t give me much chance to learn any languages, and I haven’t had any real opportunity to study any of the colonial dialects while here, but I do appreciate the few words of Sciss that you’ve taught me.”

“Scisson,” Takor corrected. “We are the Sciss people, we speak the Scisson language.”

“Everybody on your planet speaks the same language?”

“With some minor regional differences. We have traded and mated with each other since we emerged from the sea. Neither would be easy to accomplish if our language became unintelligible to each other.”

“Mac, I-“ Lt Bugalu came to a sudden halt as he approached the communications console, apparently because Takor was there. “Good morning,” he greeted blankly.

“Good morning, Lt Bugalu,” MacDowell returned politely.

Takor considered that greeting as the helmsman headed for his own assignment. “You used rank and full name,” it observed.

Mac nodded. “I can’t use nick names on duty.”

“He is not on duty yet,” it stated.

The redhead flashed a big smile. “But I am.”

“Not really. I’m here to relieve you,” Abdulla stated, leaning against the equipment.

MacDowell turned her seat to the newcomer. “Are you sure? You don’t look well.”

Takor turned his attention to the darker skinned woman, decided she did look paler than normal.

“You know we’re under quarantine,” Abdulla stated. “The way I understand it, we’re all likely to catch this... what did McGregor call it? Verasis Flu. Or was it Verasis Measles? Can’t remember. Anyway, I figure I’ll work until I absolutely can’t handle it anymore, and then I’ll report to sick bay. No telling just how long this quarantine will last.”

“It’s probably measles,” MacDowell returned. “Gaelund’s Port City had an outbreak a few decades back and put itself under quarantine. After a month, some rich guy decided he was losing money, being unable to import and export, so he started having ships from the space station use the New Dublin airport.”

“He had space ships use an airport?” Abdulla repeated.

MacDowell considered that. “Well, it was before I was born, so I could be wrong, but I think he built a couple landing pads and extra-long runways right next to the airport, roads to get stuff to and from, warehouses... No telling what all he had to build. At first, he was the only company using them, but within a week, I think, other companies did, too. When passenger ships started using it, he turned it over to the airport authorities. So, before Port City lifted its quarantine, Gaelund had a 2nd space port, on the other side of the globe, and they both keep pretty busy, these days.” She paused. “That was a long way of saying I’ve heard of Verasis Measles, but not Verasis Flu.”

“It really doesn’t matter what it’s called. We’re all expected to come down with it,” Abdulla responded. “Except possibly you, Mr Takor.”

Takor gave a slight nod. “There has been no reported cases of any Sciss contracting Verasis Measles.” It had moved a little closer to the two women, could smell their perfumes intermingling, as well as their individual body odors, and there was nothing similar to the pheromones that had made him halt the test last night. He had not noticed anything like that between these two when they greeted each other on previous mornings, so he hadn’t really expected it to happen this morning.

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Abdulla stated. “Come on, let me sit, Mac.” MacDowell obediently stood, and Abdulla plopped gracelessly into the chair.

“Lt Abdulla used a nick name,” Takor observed softly.

“She outranks me; she can call me anything she likes,” MacDowell returned, and began the pre-shift check for her friend.

“You’re right, Mr Takor, I shouldn’t have,” Abdulla stated. “Mac- Dowell, I’m supposed to be doing that!”

“You don’t look like you can keep your eyes open, let alone concentrate. I really think you should stand down and let me take this shift for you. It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“And I think you should go to sick bay, get a sedative, and get some sleep!” Abdulla bit back.

“Be stuck in my nightmares all day? No thanks.”

“How can you be so stubborn?” Abdulla demanded. She looked over when the lift door opened. “Mr Smythe! Would you please tell Mac- Dowell that I am here for my shift - or as much of it as I can manage - so she can leave?”

Takor saw MacDowell stiffen as Abdulla greeted the chief engineer, and an interesting smell began to tickle its nostrils. Smythe stopped at the greeting, stared at the redhead, and reluctantly stepped forward. The aroma changed as another intermingled with it, and Takor felt the stirrings of-

Another Test...

Month 5, Day 30

Abdulla

2009 Hrs

Abdulla stopped as soon as the meeting room door closed behind them. “Why does that keep happening?”

But Mac didn’t stop; she walked past Bugalu and MacGregor as she headed down the hallway for the lift. Abdulla joined the men as they hurried after her. Mac glanced briefly back at them. “Do you mean my inability to pass my test? Or that Takor keeps telling us to leave the room?”

“Let’s start with the one that isn’t completely entrenched. Yet,” Abdulla returned. “I work with Takor on the bridge every day.” Until recently. “And Smythe frequently comes to the bridge. But Takor’s never acted like that. Which makes me think he must have a problem with you, Mac.”

“Level 7, east,” Mac told the lift once they were all aboard. “I don’t agree,” she told the other woman. “I might have, a month ago, but not now. He’s been spending time with me on midnights, and he doesn’t act like that then.”

“What do you mean, he spends time with you?” Abdulla asked.

“About a week ago, he started coming to the bridge during my shift, giving me pop quizzes. Sometimes, they take all shift. Other times, we move on to other subjects. Do you realize he has a pair-sibling back home?”

“Don’t change-“ Abdulla started.

“What is the world is-“ Bugalu interrupted.

“You’ve been talking to Takor about sex?” MacGregor asked in surprise, which shut up the other two.

Didn’t think she talked to anybody about that!

“No, not really,” Mac responded. “We’ve compared families and stuff like that. Occasionally, one of us asks a question that - between humans - might be considered sexual. I suppose. But I was curious why the Sciss are considered not to have a gender.”

“Actually, each Sciss has both genders,” MacGregor stated. “So they don’t have any gendered pronouns, which early contacts thought meant they don’t have any gender.” He glanced at Bugalu. “A pair-sibling results from the same sexual act. Since each participant is both genders, it’s infrequent that they don’t both get pregnant. Each mother is the other child’s father.”

“Yeah, that’s the way he explained it,” Mac agreed.

“That’s... mind-boggling,” Bugalu stated as the lift door opened and they headed for the rec room.

“Seems fairer than the human way, though,” Mac stated. “Anyway, what I was trying to point out is that he doesn’t act like that when we’re on the bridge. So I don’t think you can blame me for his acting like that.”

“Acting like what?” Bugalu asked as they found seats at a corner table.

The women looked at each other, and Abdulla sighed. “Everything is fine when we first get started with the test. Takor just sits there quietly, listening, observing. Smythe was almost... flippant tonight. Like he could see the end of some horrible ordeal.”

“Yeah, I imagine that’s how he sees it,” Mac muttered. With a sigh, she rested her head on Bugalu’s shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her waist.

Well, it seems unprofessional to me. Abdulla cleared her throat and mind. “Then, about the time Mac lost her concentration, Takor ordered Mac and me out of the room.”

“Why?” Bugalu asked.

“We don’t know,” Mac answered. “He doesn’t give a reason.”

“Just you two?” MacGregor asked. “Not Smythe?”

“Just us,” Abdulla confirmed. “What in space it might mean is beyond me.”

“Hey, Shorty,” Tall Bear greeted as he paused at their table. “What’s the news on your test?”

“I failed,” Mac said simply.

“We were interrupted,” Abdulla corrected. “I don’t think tonight should count.”

“Even though Takor’s been helping you study?” Tall Bear asked the redhead.

Mac’s forehead wrinkled. “He hasn’t been helping me. He’s been testing me.”

“That’s all I can do, to help you study.”

MacGregor shook his head. “Takor was sure you’d pass. He told the captain you would.”

Mac considered the doctor as she thought about what he’d said. “Well, I didn’t.”

“I don’t understand. The idea, as I understand it, is if someone of Takor’s rank asked you the questions, you wouldn’t be so... intimidated by questions asked by Smythe.”

Mac rolled her eyes. “I’m not intimidated by rank!”

“So that brings up the other question,” Abdulla stated. “Why can’t you pass?”

Mac shrugged, as if the question wasn’t important.

Tall Bear’s big hand touched Abdulla’s shoulder briefly. “Didn’t you tell me, Abs, that Mac loses her concentration? Shorty, does your mind go completely blank, or do you find yourself thinking about something else?”

Her face crimson, the redhead abruptly stood, declared, “I should study,” and hurried away.

“Wait up!” Bugalu called, and hurried after her.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Tall Bear muttered. “Poor girl.” He moved off, toward the game tables.

Abdulla tried to figure out what Mac’s mind might move to in the middle of a test that would be so embarrassing for the other woman. Or was it just the fact that her mind did move on, instead of staying on track? “She doesn’t need to study! That’s all she’s been doing. What she needs is...” Her voice died, because she still didn’t know what else would help the redhead. She sighed. “I don’t know what she needs, but I need a drink.”

“You’re beginning to sound like her.”

MacGregor’s statement startled her; she had forgotten he was still there. “That’s a splash of cold water!”

“I thought you liked her.”

“I do. But I don’t want to be her. I certainly don’t want to be treated the way Smythe has been treating her. Ever!” Woops. Shouldn’t have said that. It just... slipped out. I expect he’ll have a few words to say to me about it. It’s been a long time since anyone’s given me a dressing down.

“How does he treat her?” the doctor asked mildly.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she told him nervously. “Forget it. Tell me, exactly what is going on in sick bay that’s put the ship in quarantine?”

“Like the captain announced, we have a few cases of Verasis Flu.”

“Is that illness really bad?”

“It’s not fatal to humans, but it certainly isn’t pleasant. And it’s extremely contagious. Regulations require a ship go into quarantine as soon as we know we have it aboard, until the last patient has been dismissed for 2 weeks. Abdulla.” His hand on hers was not exactly insistent, but his blue eyes were intense. His voice lowered. “What you said does not exactly surprise me. That particular officer has himself made a few... allegations about his behavior. He seems as confused by it as you. Still, if he’s not treating her fairly, somehow can’t manage it, then someone should bring it to the captain’s attention. It might as well be me. I’ll keep your name out of it.”

She bit her lower lip in indecision. Beth seems to think MacGregor can be trusted. I don’t know if he can keep my name out of it, since all I’ve got are my observations during the testing process. Even if he manages it, the captain’s smart; she’ll figure out his source. So will Smythe, but he already knows what I think of his behavior. And if I don’t tell someone, then it’s like I condone that behavior. She scooted her chair closer to his and lowered her voice. “I’ve never seen him act like this before, so don’t think I’m venting old anger, or anything like that. In fact, before Mac arrived, you would never have heard me say anything against Mr Smythe.”

“No, I never have,” he agreed. “Just tell me what it was like during the testing process this evening.”

Mixed News

Month 5, Day 21

Jane Burke

0825 Hours

Jane turned when the hallway door of her ready room opened. Drake stopped in the doorway. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were busy, captain.”

Takor rose to its feet. “I have finished my preliminary report. I believe we are done, unless you have questions, Capt Burke?”

“Come in, doctor,” Jane invited so the door would close behind him. “Takor just told me there’s no reason for Ms MacDowell not to pass her probational test this month.”

“That’s good news!” Drake stated.

The lizoid added, “However, when I stated that to her, she said she had felt equally prepared the last 3 months. She seems... embarrassed and... miserable at her inability.”

“She is. And confused as all get out.”

“Of course,” Takor agreed. “I will leave you to confer.”

“Stop,” Jane said. “Dr MacGregor was not telling you to leave. ‘As all get out’ is an old phrase that roughly means ‘to the extreme’. He was saying that Ms MacDowell is extremely confused by the situation she is in.”

“Exactly,” Drake agreed. “Sorry, Takor. Sometimes slang slips out without my realizing it.”

Takor lowered its head. “No doubt if we were speaking Scissian, I would be... in the same vehicle?”

“Boat,” Jane corrected with a smile. “A specific type of water vehicle. You are learning some of our human slang.”

“Thank you. Mr MacDowell is good at explaining phrases and intent in human communication.”

“Always good for a communications officer,” Jane stated. “If you don’t mind - this is strictly voluntary - since MacDowell is so uncertain of her readiness, perhaps you could continue to probe her knowledge? If she continually satisfies someone of your rank, perhaps she won’t be so intimidated by questions from Mr Smythe.”

“I am willing, if you do not mind my temporarily changing to A shift?”

“As you like. Will you also move your yeoman to A shift?”

“I will leave Yellow Dog on B shift, to act as intermediary between me and my department heads.”

Intermediary? Can’t see how, she talks so little, but I won’t micro-manage my team. “Fine. You probably want to eat and go to bed, then. Now, why are you here instead of sick bay, doctor?”

“Wait just a moment, Takor. You might want to consult your home world medical people. I couldn’t find anything about this in the information I have about your race.”

Don’t like the sounds of that. Come to think of it, Duck was extremely distracted last night. Now he’s here. Definitely don’t like it. “Sit down, doctor, and don’t keep us in suspense.”

Drake sat down, as directed, but his frown didn’t bode well. “I wish I had answers, captain, but all I’ve really got is a big batch of worry.” She raised her eyebrows, and he went on. “Oberlin, from Laundry, was admitted to Sick Bay yesterday, complaining of..., well, lots of symptoms. As a nurse helped her into pajamas, she noticed spots on the patient’s torso, so that placed some type of measles at the top of our list.”

Measles doesn’t sound so bad. Had them as a kid. “How many types of measles are there?”

“Hundreds. Even more if you count the illnesses that aren’t measles, but mimic some of the symptoms, like skin blotches. So we took samples from the patient and sent them to lab to see what we had.”

“That’s what had you so pre-occupied during supper last night.”

“Right. The possibilities range from a couple days of mild illness for one person to... well, to quarantine. And possibly worse.”

Jane sat up straight. No captain wants to declare quarantine. There are stories- She pushed that thought away. “The lab results are back? What are we dealing with?”

Drake rubbed a hand along his jaw line. “Not sure. Yeah, the tests eliminated 90% of the possibilities, but not all I had hoped it would eliminate. Oberlin got worse, so she’s in isolation. And Udtoha from Sanitation came in with similar complaints. He’s in isolation, too.”

“How do you treat an illness when you don’t know what it is?”

“We’re treating the symptoms. And administering wide-range antibiotics. Maybe they’ll help with the original illness; maybe they’ll just keep secondary illnesses from settling in. Now we wait for the more specialized tests to be run.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Prepare to declare the Fireball quarantined,” Drake replied. “Out of the 4 remaining illnesses it could be, only one won’t require that. Takor, I sent the information on these 4 illnesses to your office computer. You can forward that to your home planet, see how vulnerable you might be.”

“If you have the ill people isolated...” the lizoid began.

Drake shook his head. “By the time they came to sick bay, the illness had been in their body for at least a day, probably longer, with ample opportunity to infect others. We try to mitigate the damage by placing them in isolation, but it’s like closing the barn door after the horses have escaped.”

Takor’s nictating membranes blinked. “Closing the door is intended to keep the... hoorssess inside the barn?”

“Exactly.” Drake studied the Scisson face. “Get some sleep. One thing I did learn about your species is that you are more susceptible to illnesses when you’re tired.”

“I am on my way,” Takor told him. “Captain?”

“You can go. Sweet dreams.”

Takor had risen to his feet and now hesitated. “Sweet?”

“Pleasant. I hope you have pleasant dreams.”

“Having dreams- rather, remembering one’s dreams - usually indicates illness. Therefore, I hope not.”

After Takor left, Jane turned back to her Chief Medical Officer. “How long will we be quarantined, Drake? The holiday celebration is a month away, with furlough scheduled shortly after that. Will we have to cancel the festivities? Orbit that furlough planet without any physical contact? And if so, would we have the manpower to magnetically haul in any supplies that get jettisoned for us?”

“Jane, I’ll have more information after I get the test results this afternoon. One of the 4 diseases is relatively easy to deal with, and won’t require quarantine. How long will be determined by how contagious it is. As will our ability to deal with it. For now, we should probably plan to continue with our normal activities as much as possible. That would help keep morale up as everybody waits to get sick.”

“Everybody? Doctor, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Drake cleared his throat. “One of the diseases we’re testing for could make this a plague ship. Takor is the only one who might live through it - mostly, Sciss and humans don’t share diseases - but he’d live the rest of his life alone on this ship.” Jane closed her eyes briefly as she accepted that possibility. Drake went on. “The next worse possibility is that everybody aboard gets ill in a relatively short time. Try to imagine everybody being ill at the same time, including all the doctors and nurses.”

“At least it wouldn’t last long,” said a soft voice.

“Blossom, this information is not to leave this office until I say so,” Jane stated, finally remembering her yeoman was at the corner desk.

“Of course, captain.”

“I’d better get back to sick bay.” Drake stood. “I’ll get you more information as soon as I can.” He left, worry already beginning to pale his skin.

Jane called up the quarantine declaration from the Space Fleet regulations, and then the plague declaration as well. She minimized them for now; she didn’t know what illness to name, and it wasn’t time for either of them yet. With a deep sigh, she tried to deal with the normal influx of reports.

“Captain?”

She looked up to see an off-duty security officer in her doorway. Oh, great. More problems? I can’t remember the last time he came up to see me. “Come in, Tall Bear. What can I do for you?”

“Could I speak with you?” His eyes veered toward the corner desk. “Alone?”

“Blossom, take a break.”

“Thank you, captain,” the yeoman intoned and left.

“Is there a problem?”

“Captain, because of certain... peculiarities in our chain of command on the Fireball, I’m sometimes not certain what’s expected of me. I’d like to ask a question.”

“Go ahead,” Jane told him, wondering if Winthrop had gotten out of hand. Again.

“Hypothetically,” Bear added.

“Okay. Ask.”

“Let’s suppose a certain entertainment activity had been introduced on the ship. The basic activity is not banned, but this particular... game, when hosted by a particular person, has been modified so that the result is not something fleet regulations - nor the ship’s captain - would approve of.”

Capac’s poker games? Was there a problem last night? Maybe Winthrop- “Does the captain know this game has been modified?”

Bear stared at her a moment, his face stony. “I don’t know.”

“I see. Go on.”

“Most of the crew knows the game’s rules when they agree to play, and being adults, they can make their own decisions. But let’s say one person did not know, and the host did not explain what she was agreeing to.” Jane winced involuntarily, but didn’t interrupt again. “In that instance, supposing I learned about it, what should I do? Normally, I would report the situation to my superior...”

“But that sounds like the kind of thing Winthrop would take advantage of,” she muttered.

“Yes,” he breathed. “So, in such a case, do I report straight to the captain? Deal with it as if I were Head of Security? Unless the game goes past midnight, I wouldn’t be on duty. If that happened, captain, how would you want it handled?”

I wonder how he handled it last night. Capac was on duty this morning, not in the brig. She considered the AmerInd. “Some captains walk a fine line,” she stated. “They stick to the regs when they need to, but as you say, one assumes crew members are adults. So long as nobody is hurt, and efficiency remains high, they might turn a blind eye to... indiscretions. Still, if a person doesn’t know the rules, they haven’t been allowed to make an informed decision, and no captain can turn a blind eye to that. In my case, I hope you would deal with the situation. Eliminate the game, or at least see that everyone who decides to play is aware what’s expected. In other words, since your superior is not doing his job, you have the right and the responsibility to handle such items.”

“Yes, captain.”

“I would hope that after you handled it, you would then inform your captain what had transpired.” Bear nodded slowly, and Jane let silence stretch between them for half a minute. “When did MacDowell discover it was strip poker?”

He looked up. “After she lost the first hand.”

“And then she left?”

He shook his head. “No, she’s too stubborn. Idiotic, even, since she has no interest in... Well, at least we were there to even the odds.”

“Who is ‘we’, and how did you even the odds?”

“Bugalu tried to talk sense into her. When he couldn’t, he sat down to play, so... another guy and I also sat in.”

“You participated?”

If he reddened, she couldn’t see it. “If one of us won, we wouldn’t claim her... we’d just let her leave. And Monroe was trying to lose, so-“

“If MacDowell had lost, she would have been naked!”

“True, but helping her fight her way out seemed a lot easier than dragging her out when she saw leaving during the game to be reneging on a promise to play.”

She stared at him in concern. “Some promises are too stupid to keep!”

“I know that, captain. I agree with you. But Mac doesn’t see it that way.”

“Oh, the idiocies of young women!” she spat. “How any of us make it to age 30 in one piece sometimes eludes me!” She took a calming breath. “I was willing to turn a blind eye to strip poker, as long as everybody knew that’s what they were playing!”

“Mac’s probably the only one who-“

“We can’t assume that,” she returned quickly. “Deal with it. How, I leave to you.”

“I did warn Capac last night.”

“Warning being all you could do, once you decided to participate. Reinforce that warning today. I can’t have the rules of that game posted around the ship, but all players must be aware of those rules before they agree to play!”

“Yes, captain.”

“And keep your eye on it. One more time, the slightest incident, and I want those games shut down! Understood?”

“Yes, captain.” He stood up. “Thank you, captain. That certainly clarifies my thoughts.”

She gave him a lop-sided grin. “You’re a good man, Tall Bear. You’ll make a fine officer, once you learn to think things through. In the meantime, feel free to ask any more ‘hypothetical’ questions you come up with.”

“Thank you, captain.”

He left, and she sank back into her chair. What a morning!