I drink alone
Yeah, with nobody else
I drink alone
Yeah, with nobody else
Yeah, ya know when I drink alone
I prefer to be by myself
- George Thorogood and the Destroyers
An insistent buzzing woke Max Vasser from her stupor. She slid sideways along the table top she was slumped over and knocked a half-empty glass onto the floor, spilling the amber liquid it contained onto the carpet. She caught herself just before she fell off her chair and did her best to sit up straight, but failed spectacularly. She opened one bleary, bloodshot eye, and had to squint against the dim sunlight filtering through her bedroom's drawn curtains.
The clock on the nightstand read 1103 hours. God, it's tomorrow already.
Max groaned miserably and covered her eyes with her hands. The buzzing sounded again, and she winced painfully and shifted her hands to her ears. "Go 'way!" she tried to call, but it came out little more than a heavily-slurred hoarse croak. The door buzzer sounded again, and this time the door slid open, whoever was outside obviously tired of being ignored.
"Max?" said a hesitant voice. "You in here?"
Max cracked her eyes open again and saw the blurry form of Jo Schmidt standing a few feet inside her apartment looking around the dimly lit room.
"Get lost, Schmidt," she growled.
At the sound of her voice, Jo spotted her in the dark. "There you are! We've been looking all over for you. What are you doing in here?" She walked over to the curtains and drew them aside, letting in the brilliant daylight. Max cringed and hissed like a vampire from the sun and held up her hands to block the glare from her eyes. Jo noticed the empty bottle on the table.
Openmouthed, she said, "You've been in here drinking all night again, haven't you?" She picked up the bottle and sniffed the contents. "And it's not even synthahol! No wonder you look like the night of the living dead!"
"Leave me alone," grated Max, trying to get up from the table and stagger over to the bed. Jo clucked pityingly, shaking her head, but finally decided to help her friend. Grabbing hold of Max around the shoulder, she led her pickled pal to the safety of her bedroom.
"You can't keep doing this, Max," berated Jo.
"Shut up. You ain't my mother."
"No, I ain't! I'm your friend!" They had reached the bed and Jo now sat Max down on the edge, then sat down beside her. Steeling herself for what she had to do, she gripped Max's shoulders tightly and shook her hard. "You've got to snap out of this funk, Max! Sam is gone, maybe dead! Lee hasn't been heard from in two days! Maybe she's dead too! You're in command now but you're a slobbering disgusting drunk! I know you miss Jazz and all, and you think you've lost your ESP, and you feel absolutely worthless, but if you keep up this behavior, you really are useless! Come on -- me and Alex need you now more than ever if we're going to save our team!"
Max was fighting the shaking as forcefully as her condition allowed, which was to say, barely at all, but Jo's stinging words were like a slap in the face and got her attention better than all the shaking in the world could do.
"Leggo. Let go o' me!" She finally managed to wrench herself from Jo's grasp and lurched to her feet. Though her legs felt like putty and her knees threatened to buckle at any second, she stood there glaring down on her well-meaning friend. "Damn you, Schmidt! Why couldn't you just leave me to drown in my bottle? Why'd you have to come in here and make me feel all guilty? I was perfectly happy just the way it was..." She shook her head, feeling some of the alcohol-induced fuzziness lift. She felt guilty, yes, but much worse than that, she knew that everything Jo had said was absolutely correct. Her duty was clear.
"Let's go talk to Cross and then go find Lee and Sam!" She began wobbly weaving towards the front door, intent on storming Captain Cross' office right now, but Jo grabbed her by the elbow and swung her around and aimed her at the bathroom door instead.
"Whoa there, buckaroo! First things first, and first thing for you is a cold shower and a couple of sober-up pills. Then we go see Cross."
"No. Absolutely not," said Captain Matthew Cross. His arms were folded stubbornly across his chest and he was shaking his head resolutely. "I've already lost Lieutenant Beckett, and now you tell me Commander Carter has gone off with a civilian on some harebrained -- and unauthorized -- rescue operation, and that she's missing now too. There's no way I'm going to let the rest of you ladies take on another rescue mission. Before you know it, Dexter is the only one who's going to be left in the squadron!
"But Captain, we can't just leave them out there," said Max, now sufficiently recovered from her all-night bender to once again function as the Banshee's XO. Sam and Alex stood behind their leader and vigorously nodded their agreement with Max's statement.
But Cross was still shaking his head. "We went over this when Beckett disappeared, but I'll remind you again, since you seem to have forgotten." Looking Max straight in the face, he enunciated each word clearly and precisely, emphasizing the fact that he wouldn't brook any further argument on the matter. "Starfleet Intel is handling the situation. You--" he pointed to each of the three women in turn "--are officially ordered to stay out of it."
Max heard the qualifier in that statement and paid close attention to Cross' next words.
"You are still on leave status," he continued. His voice was as stern a before, but Max detected a sly glimmer in his eyes. "I recommend some fishing. I hear Blue Lake is nice this time of year."
"Aye aye, sir!" snapped Max. She spun on her heel and strode from Cross' office, an incredulous Jo and Alex in tow.
As soon as the door was shut behind them, Jo burst out in protest. "That's it?!? That's all you're going to do?!? I can't believe it!"
"Relax, Schmidt," said Max. "Cross gave us our 'official' orders, but he also told us exactly where to find Sam and the Commander."
"Blue Lake!" exclaimed Alex, proud she'd figured it out all by herself.
"Right. Let's go."
back to TOC