Written by Paula
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

Wireless operators Jack Phillips and Harold Bride were sitting contentedly in the Marconi wireless room, taking messages and sending messages, although they were becoming somewhat aggravated with all the messages they were receiving from the Californian about complete nonsense and such. Jack had just about had enough of it when he received a message stating that the Titanic’s officers and wireless operators were a bunch of drunken idiots and Neanderthals.

"Christ, it’s that idiot on the Californian again." Phillips shook his head, turning to face his fellow wireless operator.

"Tell him to sod off," Bride said in a nonchalant tone.

"I’ll do more than that," Phillips stated, beginning to send a reply back to the Californian. "Shut your lousy, nosey mouths, you bunch of--"

"Ahem." Two voices in unison could be heard in the doorway of the wireless room. Phillips and Bride both turned around to find Fifth Officer Harold Lowe and Sixth Officer James Moody, hands clasped behind their backs, deadpan expressions on both their faces.

"H-hello, ol’ chaps!" Phillips stammered slightly, putting on a somewhat nervous smile for both junior officers as he removed his headset.

Moody stepped into the room, not at all amused by Phillips’ lack of humor. Lowe followed behind Moody, as both the officers overlooked the Marconi room carefully.

"Um…so, Mr. Moody, how--" Bride began a little nervously, but Moody was quick to catch on. He cut Bride off before he could even finish his sentence.

"Officer Lowe and I just received a rather lucid phone call from the wireless operator of the Californian." Moody smiled a somewhat sarcastic smile at Bride and Phillips.

"Yes. He stated you two were sending rather provocative, not to mention rude, messages to him, one after the other. Is there a reason for your entirely unnecessary behavior this evening, gentlemen?" Lowe asked, hands still clasped behind his back.

"We did not send provocative or rude messages to that idiot! He sent messages to us stating that the Titanic’s officers and wireless operators were a bunch of drunken idiots and Neanderthals!" Bride nearly shouted.

Boy, was he in for it…and good.

"Mr. Bride, there is no need to shout," Moody said in a calming tone, his expression still deadpan.

"Support the queen; join the war effort, old beans!" Phillips cheered, and Bride, Moody, and Lowe all looked at him like he was completely insane and needed to be committed at once.

"Excuse me?" Moody asked, looking somewhat puzzled as he looked questioningly at Phillips.

"I believe he said something about supporting a queen for a war effort," Lowe whispered in Moody’s ear.

"I heard what the lad said!" Moody fired back in a somewhat high whisper.

"Right," Lowe said, nodding, keeping his posture upright as he bent over to look at the messages on the desk.

"Poker business going great. Your sixth officer is a bastard! Cheerio!" Lowe repeated the message on the paper. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of the message he had just read. He turned to face Moody, whose expression said it all.

"Who sent the dag-blasted thing?" Moody asked, glaring at Bride and Phillips.

"Did I mention that Sir Cosmo Duff-Gordon wants his private train to--" Bride began, but was once again cut off by a now raging Moody.

"I’m a bastard?" Moody’s British accent flowed through his words fiercely.

"Excuse me for a moment," Phillips said as another message came through. He shook his head as the message came out. "Iceberg…chicken wings…Cape Race."

"What in God’s name?" Lowe looked at the message and shook his head.

Upon reading the message that Lowe had handed him just moments ago, Second Officer Charles Lightoller came storming into the Marconi room.

"Who keeps sending messages to the Californian, Goddammit?" Lightoller yelled in a mad rage. He slapped Moody and Lowe over the head in pure anger.

"Hey, don’t hit me! You sent us down here to find out!" Moody yelled back at Lightoller, who gave him a condescending look.

"Watch…out…for…the sixth and fifth officers…they’re a shower of bastards…do not trust them…they’re devious men who are trying to take over the White Star Line." Phillips read another message that came in…from the Californian.

"We are not bastards!" Lowe and Moody shouted in unison.

"Well, personally, I think--" Lightoller began, but was cut off by a slap across the face by Moody.

"Ow," Lightoller said, rubbing his now red cheek from where Moody had slapped him. "That was not nice."

"I was just wonderling if you had some slocks I could borrow, old chappie!" A drunken First Officer William Murdoch came prancing into the Marconi room, grinning in his drunken stupor.

"Slocks?" everyone in the room repeated in unison.

"Well, of clourse, we’re in the pliddle of the North Atlantic Ocean…it gets clold out here, ya know." Murdoch nodded, quite sure of what he was saying.

"I’m rather confused now," Lowe said, blinking and turning to face Moody, who gave him a look of utter anger, mixed with confusion and aggravation.

"I think he’s drunk." Bride stated the obvious to Phillips, who nodded in agreement, putting on a sympathetic face.

"So, does anyone have--ow!" Murdoch slipped from not paying attention to where he was moving and fell flat on his behind on the cold Marconi room floor.

"Get up, you fool!" Moody said, kicking Murdoch in the shin.

Lowe blinked. "Do you think it’s a good idea to be kicking him? Kicking him might hurt him, you know."

"I wonder why he’s drunk," Lightoller wondered to himself.

"I’m starting to think James is truly a bastard," Phillips muttered to Bride in the quietest voice ever.

"Well, he did slap his fiancée around a few times," Bride said, smirking.

"He slapped her?" Phillips put a hand over his heart for effect. "Oh, dear."

"Oh, yes, old chap. She was angry when he came home drunk one night from the local pub, so she ran him through the talk, and then he slapped her. I never thought of dear old innocent James Moody to be such an abusive man." Phillips shook his head sadly, and Bride hugged him to make him feel better.

"There there," Bride comforted his friend. "Shh."

What a sight that was…oy.

"You abused your fiancée?" Lowe asked, shock evident all over his face.

"She yelled at me because I had a few drinks with the lads at the pub down the street from our home," Moody said, feigning innocence.

"Oh, well then, that’s perfectly understandable." Lowe nodded, fully understanding where Moody was coming from.

Murdoch began humming the tune for Here Comes the Bride while he twirled his fingers around in tiny little motions like a three-year-old would.

"I forgot what we came here for." Lowe turned to Moody, who tried to recount the events that had just occurred over the past twenty minutes.

"Hmm…I don’t recall…would you care to join me for some tea?" he asked his friend, who nodded.

"Count me in," Lightoller said, grimacing at the sight before his eyes. The three officers exited the Marconi room, leaving a crazy and drunken Murdoch and a very emotional Bride and comforting Phillips behind.

The End.

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