Schmalcoholic P2

<Schmalcoholic Part 2>

A couple of days later.

Somewhat awkwardly, it turned out the others had been taken hostage and tormented like something out of a sick horror movie, by a mental AI programme who’d been inhabiting Phil’s body. Poor bastards, they’d not been fishing at all. That's why Jade had been in the medi bay as a patient, she’d not been bitten by a poisonous fish as he’d assumed, but was recovering from brutal torture. Apparently she'd been really bashed up.
Alex winced at his own mental phrasing, groaned and rolled over, pulling his blanket over his head.

He’d retreated to his quarters, unable to cope with being around the others who he now realised were grumpy with him for wrongly believing they were fishing, and not because they all thought he was a lady-hitter, although Phi obviously did.
And Cass still thought he was an alcoholic.
Knowing what the others had been through on the station made him feel like even more of an asshole for having stolen their stuff. And doubly glad he’d returned it.
Cass was right - he was a dick.

When he’d calmed down enough to further think on what she’d said, he’d been astonished to recall her saying “I trusted you.”
Wow.
Solvay didn’t trust anyone, and in return he didn’t expect anyone to trust him, either.
It was shocking, and bitter-sweet, to find out that someone did…
Had.
He was surprised to find he was quite touched that Cass – who was naturally suspicious and spiky - had trusted him, which just made it more horrible that now, she didn’t, because he had shown that to do so was a mistake. Again, the stoopid annoying girl was right.
Bastard he thought to himself, of himself. Grassing wankers he thought, about Cass's robots and security systems.
His thoughts kept slipping sideways, suggesting that if Cass was right about him being a dick, and right about him being untrustworthy, then maybe she was right about him being an alcoholic, as well.
But each time his thoughts veered that way, he told himself that of course he wasn’t an alcoholic. He didn’t even drink in the way that alcoholics did. He convin- reminded, himself, that he didn’t have a problem with drink… he just liked to drink, and there was a difference.

On top of all this confusing shit, he was still wrestling with the guilt of being unable to help Bedge. He felt wrecked. He did not like dealing with so many twisting thoughts and emotions at once.
If only he had some DS… That’d shut it out.

“Alex…” It was Holly.
“GO AWAY” he shouted, child-like, from beneath his blanket. He was grounded like a naughty child, why not act like one?
The computer tried again.
“Alex, Seymour wanted to know if you’d seen a bottle of-“
“I’m not speaking to you. You told me the others were fishing. Go away.”
Holly wasn’t impressed. “I’ll tell him ‘no’ then, shall I?”
And with yet another wretched wrench, Alex remembered that not only had he seen Seymour’s wine, but thoughtfully given it a cosy new home. In his stomach. Body wringing with self-disgust, he couldn’t bring himself to answer Holly, and after a while he guessed he’d smegged off.
Without leaving the confines of his blanket, or bed, he reached for his hip flask.

Drrring!
It was his PalmPuter.

Momentarily forgetting the flask, he groped about his nightstand for the device, but it wasn’t there.
“You’ve got mail, Big Boy" came a voice from the side of the room.
He rolled his eyes, he’d forgotten he’d set Virtual Companion mode to alert him to messages.
“You’ve got mail, Big Boy” it repeated.
He sighed.
“You’ve got mail, Big Boy.”
“All right!”
He rolled out of bed and bundled through his rucksack till he found it, and with one of the stowed chocolate bars, he took it back to bed.

“Read message.”
“Would you like to use default reader or Virtual Companion?” It asked.
“Don’t care, just read it.”
The PalmPuter chose to remain in Virtual Companion mode, and read the email in a seductive breathy voice, which was actually a lot nicer than the default monotone.
Alex – who liked to fool himself that he could read a bit better than he really could – ran his finger along the screen as she read it, trying unsuccessfully to keep up with the speedy readback.

<SNIP>
>Mr Frowny,
I've been an idiot, I should have asked sooner if you could read my writing. Hope this e-mail is easier (no one likes doctor scribble). My original note said this:
"Mr Frowny, sorry I had to go. I didn't want to wake you, saves all the awkwardness as well. Don't forget to take the pills. Eat something, drink a lot of water and you'll be fine. Don't feel too unwell for too long, come get me for a coffee if/when you feel up to it. :)"
Hope that clears things up.
I know Cass has taken away your privileges till you sober up. If you want some company on your last drunken night let me know. I don't drink much, but I think I need to for once after nearly getting killed three times over by Queeg on the space station. Might help me sleep.
Honestly, I believe you can do it. You have it in you to be clean and sober, just, don't let the demons drag you down with them. Let me know if you do need help though?
Blessed Be,
Jade
P.S: Did you know that there are one thousand, two hundred and seventy nine paint swirls on the ceiling? Someone was having a creative day...<
</SNIP>

On “Mr Frowny”, ironically perhaps, his eyebrows shot up - it was Jade. He was shocked that she wanted to communicate with him after he’d (allegedly) hit her. He was pleased to hear from her, though, relieved that she was now fully conscious after her ordeal on the station.
When he learned what the original note said, he felt like even more of an asshole than he already did.
So that was why she’d been nice. She just… was nice. Wasn’t trying to mess with his head after all. Whoops.
Why had she kissed him on the chin, though? Had he… asked her out… or something, when he was pissed? He wouldn’t put it past himself. To be fair he’d even asked a few people to marry him when he was under the influence of alcohol.
She’d nearly been killed three times on the station.
He’d been a jerk to her (doubly and seriously so, if certain women were to be believed).
And she was still being nice to him.

“I am the worst man in the world” he said aloud.
“You look pretty hot to me, honey” replied Virtual Companion.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Huh.”
“Read message again.”
“Sure thing, sugar-buns.”
“I- What? Don’t call me that.”
“You chose my settings.”
“I’m not in the mood, just read the message.”
“Of course, anything for you, studmuffin.”
He winced trying to ignore the embarrassing pet name, and asked. “Can you do it in a nice Irish accent?”
“Why?”
“The girl who wrote it has an accent.”
“Girl? You cheating on me, Big Boy?”
Oh for smeg’s sake. Was everyone left in the universe annoying? Even the artificial intelligence?
“Look, VC-“
“Ahem.”
“VC-“
“A-HEM!”
“Vicky…”
“Better. Yes?”
He rolled his eyes. “Vicky, you do realise we’re not actually going out, you and I? You’re a computer. I am a man.”
“I know you’re a man, sweet-stuff, that’s why I like you so much. Brrrawwrrr!”
He sighed. “Why’d I make you so annoying?”
“Because that’s the way you like me, baby.”

---

Touchy about his reading and writing struggles, he’d wondered with a slither of paranoia exactly what Dr Jade had meant about him not being able to read her writing. Did she know? Was she being polite, pretending it was her handwriting that was the problem?
He was also deeply ashamed to receive the offer of help with his… His… liking a drink…ness.

His reply was created with his PalmPuter on default mode, for fear of Virtual Companion slipping in some jealous, or inappropriately sexual, message without his knowledge:

Dear Jade,
Why do you call me Mr Frowny?
You are not an idiot.
What is awkward about falling asleep with me?
Thank you I am sober.
I am sorry you were ill. I’m glad you are better.
I will go for a drink with you. Don’t tell Cass.
No, I did not know there were one thousand two hundred and seventy nine paint swirls on the ceiling.
-----
Regards,

Alex Solvay - Mechanic
Alex Solvay Mechanic is available 9 – 5 Ship Time, Monday to Friday.
Outside hours skutter maintenance and emergency shuttle repair on request.

In truth, he was scared to meet Jade after what he’d (apparently) done, but he knew he probably should, so that he could apologise for... what he'd apparently done... and for misunderstanding her note.
It wasn’t going to be his ‘last drunken night’ though - however clever Cass might be, however protective he felt of her when she was upset, it was no business of a little girl’s whether he drank or not.
Maybe he wouldn’t drink alcohol when he went to meet Jade, anyway. It might be sensible to make sure he was fully aware of his actions.

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