Triangles
Chapter 9
Pulling himself up, jumping over the last few steps, Lucas paused to one side of the stairwell opening on the bridge. Miguel was supposed to be running diagnostics on the new sensor circuits today, hunting down some reported response discrepencies. Captain Bridger had requested that Lucas assist the chief and learan how to do it himself. But the generally easy going chief had been decidedly testy and unlike himself after breakfast this morning.
It had been really strange this morning. Between Lonnie being off the boat and wanting to keep an eye on Barlow, Lucas had decided to make the effort to get up early and join the others. But, whooo! He shook his head at the thought of that difficult meal.
Miguel, usually the most genial, friendly and out-going of people, had been morose and bad-tempered. He'd even snapped at Ari, and that really wasn't like him. As for her, she'd been half-asleep. No, he corrected himself, not asleep, but not quite there, either. It was like she was walking around in some dream-world, but cheerful and happy, almost euphoric. Tim had been ebullient, exerting himself to be charming and to keep the conversation, what there was of it, going. And, of course, that woman, Barlow, had been there. She and Tim had finally gotten into some discussion about tape recordings, of all things.
When they'd finally left the galley, Miguel had growled something about not feeling well, and had taken off, not going down to the pool with the others, refusing offers of help from the others. Ari and Tim seemed determined to do baby swims with Barlow, so Lucas had left, too. He wasn't a kindergarten swim teacher.
Now he examined the sensor chief carefully, looking for some sign of the person he knew and liked, usually. But the man kept his face turned toward his screens, not glancing around, not checking out the others on his watch as he usually did, not making the little jokes that made him so popular with others. Cautiously, Lucas approached him, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
Wincing away from the contact, Miguel jerked around. "Lucas! Don't do that!" he snapped irritably. "What are you doing sneaking around up here anyway?"
"Captain Bridger wants me to learn how to do diagnostics," Lucas answered feeling hurt. "So he ordered me to observe and assist you. And I wasn't sneaking, either."
"No, no. Of course you weren't," Miguel answered wearily, turning back to the readouts. "Sorry. I just a little on edge today."
"I'll say! What's got into you?" Miguel jerked back to look at him,
his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"What do mean by that?" he asked quickly. "What have you heard?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. But you sure aren't yourself right now. Maybe I'd better come back later?"
"No. It's ok. Look, just settle down. I'm about to run the diagnostics now, and then we can go hunt down what's wrong. It would probably do me good to get out of this chair and moving around anyway." Lucas nodded warily. Careful not to touch the jumpy non-com, he leaned forward to watch what he did. Getting caught up in his work, Miguel sounded almost calm as he explained why he did each thing and what the correct response was supposed to be, as well as describing the wrong results and what caused them.
After a while, he nodded. "Ok, so we've got three areas to look for trouble." Spinning his chair, he called out, "Hey, Teej, I've got some bum circuits to track down. Can you handle this for a while." P.O. Jones nodded.
"Sure thing, Miguel."
With a sigh, Miguel stood up to let the other man slip in. "Ok,
Lucas, let's get to it."
But before they could leave the bridge, Captain Bridger and Commander Ford came on, looking unaccountably grim. Walking up to the helm, Ford ordered, "Mr. Piccolo, set course for the Nicobar rise."
Tim looked up, surprise in his eyes. "The Andaman Sea, sir. I thought that the Chaodai sealed it up a few years ago." Captain Bridger nodded his head.
"That's right, lieutenant. They did. But there's been some evidence that the border has been unsealed recently, at least a little. Someone's been passing over from the other side. High command wants to seal up the leak." He turned as Miguel straightened up again and he and Lucas past. "Also, Mr. Ortiz, double-check those diagnostics. We need to be ready on all levels." The sensor chief nodded, "Yes sir."
As they left the bridge, and waited for the Mag-lev, Lucas tentatively suggested, "Do you want to go to your quarters, first? Maybe get some aspirin or something?" Miguel shook his head.
"No. I'm all right."
"Are you sure? You look a little strange, like you've got a hangover or something." Sitting in the capsule, Miguel gave him a sharp, suspicious look.
"What makes you think that? Did someone tell you I got drunk last night?"
"No, but ... Oh, come off it Miguel! You aren't acting like yourself at all. There's got to be something wrong. I mean, if it were Tim..."
"It's NOT Tim!" the man interrupted harshly. "And I don't want to talk about it. All right! Let's just get we need and take care of this, ok? No more chatter."
"Fine, if that's the way you want it." Lucas got up and followed him off the Mag-lev, wondering just what was wrong with the man. Maybe Ari knew something. He'd ask her next time he saw her.
Ari was checking the charges on the pulse rifles when Lucas caught up with her. Brushing her hair off her forehead, she smiled up at him brightly, a balm after the time spent with the glowering, snapping sensor chief.
"Hey, Lucas! What's up?" she greeted him warmly. "You look like you
could use a friend."
Hunkering down beside her, he cocked his head to one side and answered, "Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing. And I could. What is it with Miguel? He's been acting really strangely today. Did something happen last night?"
Closing up the rifle, Ari polished it off with a rapid swipe of a dust cloth and got up to replace it on the rack. Taking down the next, she removed the charge cartridge and stripped it down, checking for signs of wear. "Ummm, well, that's a good question," she temporized. Looking at his disgusted expression, she laughed, laying the weapon down in her lap. "No, I'm not giving you the run-around. I'm just not sure."
Fitting the pieces back together, she explained. "Tony brought me a package from shore when he got back yesterday." Lucas straightened up. Tony bringing presents to Ari? What?
"My great-uncle died while we were manuevering out of that hole." She stopped, considering her words. He had been great to her, all of her life. With a small shrug, aware of Lucas's impatience, she continued, "His lawyers sent me part of his bequest, a bottle of brandy from his private stock. A letter came with it, from him." Her movements slowed down as her face became even more reflective. With a small shake of her head, she continued, speeding up again. "He wanted me to drink the bottle with someone I liked. I shared it with Tim and Miguel, and I'm afraid that we all got rather ..."
"Squiffed?" Lucas offered, a delighted, crooked grin spreading on his face. He wished he'd been there to see it.
"Silly!" she insisted repressively. "I don't really remember much after that. I know that when I left Tim's quarters the two of them were out cold, and I wasn't much better. I should have known better. Uncle's liquor stores were always extremely potent and potable." Now Lucas really felt left out. Ari silly? That would be a sight to see.
Picking up the rag, Lucas peered at her out of the corner of his eye and asked, "Well, didn't anything, you know, happen?" Ari searched around the area.
"Where is that ...? Oh, there it is!" Taking the cloth from him, she finished cleaning off the rifle and got up, replacing it on the rack and grabbing the next. "What do you mean, 'anything happen'?"
"oh, you know. Anything happen? Miguel is in a really rotten mood today."
"Hmmm, I don't know. I saw him at breakfast. Oh, that's right, you were there, too," She put the rifle down and looked off in the distance. "Now that you mention it, he did act a little odd. I guess he's just feeling a little out of it. Should be all right in a little while."
"Well, if you're sure of that." Ari smiled encouragingly and nodded.
"Yeah," her smile grew dreamier. "I'm sure that Miguel will be all right, soon enough. It's hoping I am to be talking to him soon enough." She began to hum as she checked the rifle, and Lucas, feeling a bit like a third wheel, even though there were only two of them there, got up to leave. As he stepped through the door, he heard her start to sing in a low, husky alto, "... Out beyond the rim, my love, I'll wait to lead you home."
Miguel headed for the gym. It had been a rotten day, even before it officially started. He remembered Ari coming up to him and Tim in the galley last night, upset and carrying a bottle of wine. Some uncle of hers had died while she was still out it in the hospital, and he'd left her the wine in his will, some legacy, that, with the instructions to share it with someone special. Then, she'd remembered that she was assigned to do some work for Brody and had asked Tim to take care of the bottle. Since Tim had offered to help Miguel study for the officer test, they'd gone on to his quarters together and started reading.
But Tim had said that it wasn't wine. That it was some kind of rare and expensive brandy, cognac. It was just sitting there, on the desk, and Miguel had wondered what it tasted like. That was the last real thing he remembered until he woke up, naked, in the bunk with Tim's arms around him. Nothing between those two points in time. Why couldn't he remember?
As quickly as possible, and as quietly, he'd collected his clothes, and gotten dressed. Actually, it hadn't been all that difficult to find them. They'd been folded up on the desk. Then he'd snuck out of there. At breakfast this morning, Tim kept making obscure references to what ever had happened, but luckily, he didn't come out and say anything that the others could understand.
What if Ari found out what had happened? Damn it! What had happened? Did he and Tim ... No! Surely he'd remember something like that! But Ari, if she even thought that something had happened. She'd be so disgusted. She probably never even met a ..., a ... Was he ...?
At this point, he felt so frustrated that he wanted to hit something, and the gym was the best place for that. But when he opened the door, he was greeted by a wall of sound as Trey's boombox blasted out a golden classic, Areosmith's "Pump". And Trey, herself, was up on the tread mill running as if she were setting the speed to match the beat.
For a moment, he just stared. He didn't really feel like conversation, and he really wanted the gym to himself. Then he remembered a snatch of conversation from that choked breakfast this morning. Walking in, he called out, "Hey, Treysa. I thought you were to start swim lessons with Tim tonight?"
Still running furiously, as if trying to escape some closely following demon, she panted out, "I am but I still need to get this work in as I haven't been able to get much time in for the past few days." The timer rang and the treadmill slowed to a walk. Trey sighed with involuntary relief and took the opportunity to wipe her face with the towel around her neck and give Miguel a speculative glance. Hesitantly, she started, "I know we only just met yesterday, and I'm really not in any position to ask, but ..." She stopped, taking a closer look at his tense body posture and closed in face. Shaking her head, she muttered, "Never mind."
Miguel's eyes narrowed. He wondered if she'd seen what was bothering him. Did it show that clearly? Had he changed or something. Testily, he asked, "What? What is it you want to ask?" He waited anxiously for her question.
As the treadmill finished up the slowdown segment of the program, Trey seemed unsure of how to phrase her question. "Well, yesterday, when I met you guys, you all seem, I don't know, but like the best of friends, sort of relaxed and easy with each other. I mean, yeah, you and Ens. Adler were flirting to beat the band, but ... nothing really serious. But this morning," she paused, trying to put her vague impressions into words, "Ok, granted that Henderson's attack put a strain on everything, but even so, this morning, you never even said a word to Lt O'Neill. He seemed to be all right, but Ens. Adler was sky high, out of it, sort of spacey when she wasn't bouncing off the proverbial walls." She laughed a little, remembering the way the dreamy ensign from breakfast metamorphed into a bright and perky maniac in the pool, shaking her head at the memory, "If you were to ask me, I'd have to say that it looked like she'd gotten laid last night."
At this statement from the outspoken and earthy outsider, Miguel tensed even further. How dare she say such a thing about Ari? But the anthropologist didn't seem to notice his reaction. Stepping off the strip, she wiped her face again and continued, "But I can't really figure out which one of you it was." About to take a drink from a water bottle, she paused, hand raised in the air, and regarded him closely, "I'm assuming that it had to have been one of you, right? I mean, Adler doesn't appear to be the vamp-type, if you know what I mean."
Miguel took a deep breath and glowered at her, opening his mouth to defend Ari's honour. Trey nodded as if satisfied by something and before he could summon the words to blast her, said, "That's what I thought. Well, now, I know that it wasn't you, or you wouldn't be so upset now, right? So, it must have been Lt. O'Neill." She shook her head again, muttering quietly to herself, "Funny, though, I would have sworn ..."
By now, Miguel felt recovered enough from his shock and indignation to respond to these calumnies. "I have no idea what you mean. In all the time I've known Ensign Adler, she has always behaved like the lady she is. And neither Tim nor I would do anything to ruin her reputation."
"And any way, you're absolutely wrong about it. Last night, she was in shock and upset because she'd just found out that one of her relatives had just died. If she were going to misbehave, it definately wouldn't have been then."
Treysa shook her head sadly. "Actually, that's exactly when she would have. If it was someone close, she'd be so vulnerable that she'd be ripe for the picking." Then she snorted derisively. "As for ruining her reputation, Oh, come on Chief ... ." He interrupted.
"Miguel please? And I know that Ari would prefer that you call her by her name, not her title or her last name." Trey nodded.
"OK Miguel, thanks, I'll keep that in mind. But about this, I know you're not pure and innocent. No man who works out as much as you do to keep in shape is unaware of his effect on women. You can't tell me that you don't try and get some when you're in port. So let's be adults here, OK? "
Miguel stopped in the middle of pulling down his sweat pants, it was easier to work out in shorts and tank. This conversation was not an easy thing to take on top of his worries of the day and he fought the impulse to pull them back up. "Look," he said testily, "my sex life, or lack there of, isn't any concern of yours."
Grinning broadly to herself, Trey responded, "Well, in truth, yes it is my concern and my business, too. You, Ari, Lt. O'Neill and, when she gets back, Ensign Henderson are the primary foci of my research. All of you and your social relationships with one another and Darwin. I hate to tell you this, but part of any society is that community's sexual practices and taboos."
Pulling the absorbant fabric of her sweats over her legs, she continued to lecture. "I'll grant you that you four, five, whatever, are a very small subset in the larger society where sexual relations between crew members is not encouraged, and I realize that there are regulations against it between officers and enlisted personnel. But, let's face it, whatever there is between you and Adler isn't, well, it isn't exactly hidden now, is it? And then there's Lt O'Neill."
In a panic, he whirled around, turning on her, trying to mask his fear with an explosion of anger. "WHAT about Tim?"
"Whoa, buddy. Calm down. I didn't mean anything except that he's still her superior officer, and as far as I can tell from reading the regs, that's just as bad as something between you and her, career-wise." She looked at him closely. "Something happen between you and him last night?"
"NO! Definately NOT! Nothing happened between us. Nothing at all!" Now he was certain that whatever had happened was written all over his face for everyone to read. And he still didn't have a clue as to what was going on. He felt as if he were in one of those dreams where you show up somewhere without a stitch on, where everyone is completely dressed, except you. As he focused on Trey's face, alive with intrigued intereste, he realized that she was just as lost as he was. He swallowed heavily. In a small voice, he asked, "What do you mean?"
Trey shook her head, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. Speaking quietly, soothingly, she replied, "Nothing. Nothing. I just thought there might have been some kind of blow-up between the two of you. I mean, it's clear that you're good friends, but even the best of friends have trouble when they're both going after the same girl. You know that weird things can happen. Friendships either grow closer or get tanked entirely because of the girl."
Miguel relaxed. Maybe whatever it was wasn't emblazoned across his forehead like some kind of pink star. Shaking his head, he said, "No, no fight last night. I think. We just had a couple drinks together and were hung over this morning And thats ALL that happened last night. Thats all!"
Looking wary, as if she felt as though she were treading in an emotional mine-field, but still curious about what was going on, Trey smiled, asking softly, "Who you trying to convince, me or yourself?" At his stubborn expression, she shook her head and answered herself with a grin, "Ah, never mind, sexy. We can talk later. I have a date right now with a comm officer and a dolphin to get wet. Not really looking forward to this, but I guess it's for my own good. Listen, I'll tell Lt O'Neill I saw you here. OK?"
Starting to pump his legs against the weights, he paused and looked up at her. "Why? Why would you tell him that?"
She stopped, regarding him closely with some concern. He seemed to twitch everytime O'Neill's name was mentioned. Looking a trifle bewildered, she answered slowly, "No particular reason. If I see Adler, I'll tell her the same thing. Unless you don't want anyone to know where you are ...?"
Relieved, he resumed the exercises, waving a hand at her. "Oh, yeah. Sure." As she started to leave the room, Miguel thought of something. Calling out, "Hey Barlow?" She looked back at him with a questioning expression. "How are you at hand to hand?" he asked.
Treysa shrugged. "So-so, I guess. I need to get some work in on
that. Why?"
Miguel shrugged, feeling a little foolish. "Well, umm, do you suppose that you're up to working out with a cripple? I mean, I need to get some work in, but with this bum arm, I can't go up against any of my usual sparring partners, so I thought. Well, you looked like you knew what you were doing the other night, against the bag, so, if you don't mind, do you think you might be up to try hand to hand training with me when you've got a few spare minutes?"
Nodding judiciously, she responded, "Sounds good." With a grin, she added impishly "It'll give you a chance to get beat up by a girl physically rather than emotionally. Later gator." And with an impudent flip of the hand, she was gone, leaving Miguel to wonder what she meant and to stew in his own fears, while trying to sweat them out.
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