The author wishes to express thanks to anyone who may read his story and encourages them to leave reviews, comments or even flame it hard. As with any who try their hand at publicly expressing an idea or story concept, all feedback is important and welcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own SeaQuest, Star Wars, nor any other sci-fi or fantasy series, movies, comics, cartoons or news items used in this fiction as they belong to the creators or broadcasters or publishers who put them out for consumption by the public.
SeaQuest
This story takes place in season 1, just after the SeaQuest was violently boarded and taken over by Colonel Shraeder and his mercenaries. I will be modifying several elements of that episode to fit with the fic, notably that there were more mercs in the transport, they were more violent and Lucas had been significantly more reactive and aggressive when helping to safeguard the ship and crew. The modifications to the canon of many episodes will be major and showed as flashbacks or during discussion between crew members.
IMPORTANT: for the purpose of keeping this story logical and relevant, the episode "Nothing but the truth" where Shraeder invades the ship is set as #2 in the season instead of playing at #14 as original. I then follow it immediately by the "Treasures of the Tonga Trench" as #3 instead of playing #5 in the season since I need the inspection to happen quicker to set up stuff quickly and again, logically in time and space. The episode "Bad water" where Lucas, Ford, Krieg and Westphalen are adrift in a liferaft is moved to #4 and then the rest would play out as in the original season 1.
This story is Alternate Universe, most characters are OOC and there are several crossovers with the maritime-inspired series NCIS and JAG who are the most relevant to the situations facing Lucas and the crew of the SeaQuest. The cast of Bones makes an appearance as I will borrow Sweets and Booth for a spin. There is a lot of CIA, NSA, Homeland Security, Canadian Mounties and Coast Guard and multivaried organisations mentioned along the way. As such, given so many crossovers of equal proportions, I am again placing this in the general SeaQuest section of the fandom since it would not fit in a single sub-genre. My thanks for your tolerance of the situation.
Unlike my other story, "Justice for Lucas", this has absolutely no psionics, magicks or time engines involved even if such things were part & parcel of the SeaQuest canon in all three seasons.
PS; I like flames, they're fun to read so don't hesitate to write them.
WARNING; the language level of this one is not too particularly trashy when we consider a story based on boats and sailors. However, as I always warn people who read my work: this language was pretty much normal in the school yard 30 years ago when I was a teenager. So, how can you have such a thin skin and be part of the same culture on the same continent if this is really that offensive to you? Where did you spend the last few decades, if you can't take a few hard words from the mouths of kids when these words have been around since before World War I?
SPECIAL: For those who read my other stories, this will be a departure since I am trying my hand at a "hopeful" tone of storyline where the people around Lucas actually love, like and support him. Mostly.
PS; It starts with a few doosies...:)
DURA LEX, SED LEX
The Law may be hard, but it is The Law
Chapter 1; OH HEY, YE MEN OF STOUT HEARTS!
Morning mental meanderings
(SeaQuest – season 1 – opening theme)
Sunday 9th of February, 2020; 6:00am
SeaQuest DVS 6000, UEO flagship, captain's quarters
North of the Australian coastline
Nathan Hale Bridger, captain extraordinaire and much lauded scientist groaned a bit as he woke up from restless slumber to his alarm blaring its dulcet tones (Not!) in his ears at Gawd-awful in the morning. Every year that passed by robbed him of a little more vitality, flexibility and facility to find restful sleep. Gone were the days when he could pull all nighters with just coffee and good ideas to drive him onwards.
The 62 year old man, slammed an unforgiving, almost bellicose hand down on the offensive contraption by his bedside, finally obtaining blessed silence. At least, his ears were no longer ringing, that was a plus. Now, if he could walk to his shower without his back acting up, he would be golden for the day. He truly hoped he didn't get a migraine like yesterday as they were all still reeling from the events, damages and injuries left in the wake of the boat invasion and following hostage crisis.
He might dodge the headache, but he could bet both his legs that the guilt would find him again, just as it had yesterday evening as he lay down to try and find the elusive rest his mind craved but wasn't ready to accept. They came too close to losing too many people. They, he, had almost lost Lucas...
The experienced mariner carefully folded, slowly moved and then sat on the side of his bunk wearing only the ratty old sweatpants that he favored for sleep. He grabbed in the dark around his nightstand until he found and managed to put his glasses on his face without poking out an eye. This accomplished, he could finally spy the mop of long unruly blond hair that was the only visible part of the cabin's other occupant. Fast asleep, bunkered like an albino mole under three layers of blankets right up to his forehead, Lucas was sprawled out on the couch, on his right side with his back against the backrest, feet towards Bridger, sleeping on with the angels. Of which he most assuredly was not a member, unless horns and a spiked tail were requirements. Nathan smirked silently at his playfully errant thoughts about the gentle-souled boy... No; young man... That the whole crew was beginning to appreciate and care for so much.
He was 16 years old after all, not a child anymore. And he showed his mettle when that duplicitous bastard Shraeder came aboard two days ago. Boy did that fool and his followers get a surprise when they found a snarky, spiteful, rambunctious, porcelain-white little gremlin. He, he, he! It served them right for trying to commandeer his ship and hurt his crew as if they had the right to just waltz inside and vandalize the place. Not to mention that faking a distress signal like that was just ill mannered. No wonder; the guy had been a ground-pounder. No self-respecting sailor would do that to another.
Nathan thought back to the deathly remains of Shraeder. How they had draped formlessly over the seat and armrests of his own command chair in the middle of the bridge. He closed his eyes and saw again the clawed hammer still embedded in the back of his skull. Right where Lucas had slammed it in.
Right where the innocent, harmless, defenseless little child had hit the man in his head so hard that the hammer's claw almost came out from his right eye socket in the front and had in fact expelled the ocular globe out of his face and punted it five feet away, under the Ex-O's console. Jonathan Ford was going to remember that particular tidbit of wartime anecdote for a looong time to come...
Nathan remembered how Katherine Hitchcock had recounted the story. He remembered the bridge security video he had watched with the ship's council as Lucas sat in his chair, ensconced between, but slightly behind, Ben Krieg and Marcus Shan, hoping nobody would notice him during the meeting. As if! Even in the safest, dullest and most uninformative weekly meeting of the council, Lucas was always seen, heard and felt to be present, usually in a positive, constructive way. It was one of the few good things about having accidentally acknowledged him as Chief of Mammal Engineering after Ben had concocted an ill-fated practical joke by writing up an official doorplate and sticking it to the teen's compartment's door.
When Bridger had jokingly made it official in the ship's logs, it had set up several weird and annoying consequences for the senior officers and civilian admins, yes, but also several very practical ones too. One of those more useful effects to date was that he was now much more aware of the boy's overbooked schedule and very heavy workload. After all, all department heads reported directly to the captain, be they military or civilian. And, since he had not looked too closely at how Ben had phrased the text of the public announcement of Lucas's 'posting' that went with the door plate when he signed it into the logs as per his part in the prank, Nathan had got hoisted by his own petard quite nicely.
Dura Lex, Sed Lex; The Law may be hard, but it is still and forever The Law.
Nathan and his officers should have remembered that old proverb of churches, kings and governments before they set up their supposedly inoffensive prank because they sure got burned by it in the end.
The Law does not think it's a joke when you use official military letterhead and stamps of office to write and then seal a document. As soon as it was transcribed into the UEO's admin system by a well meaning yeoman who found the forms in his outbox on his desk but didn't know it was all part of an elaborate multi-person prank, the Act became official. It was then automatically recognized as valid by no less than the General Accounting Office, the Judge Advocate General, the Naval Criminal Investigative Services, the Coast Guard and then the NATO Alliance wholesale. Can you say 'clusterfuck' with feeling? They would ALL now have to live with their misshapen creation or risk court martial for everyone involved, from himself all the way down to the innocent yeoman who input the sheets because he didn't take the time to glance at them and question the imminently questionable nature of the orders on the forms.
His good personal friend of some four decades, director of US Naval Intelligence, Chief of the UEO Naval Forces, admiral (3 stars) William 'Bill' Noyce, was, to say the least, quite righteously aghast at the entire series of events. He did manage to say so quite clearly, in between bouts of laughing his head off like a loon drowning in a barrel of moonshine. Stupid Academy buddies... What did he keep in touch with the guy for anyways? And it was the man's fault for Nathan getting kidnapped from his peaceful, quiet island to be dropped into this teen-angst driven crapper of a boat! He didn't ask for this!
The result of the little snafu in the ship's first month of operation was that he had accidentally instituted a brand new department that had not existed before ANYWHERE in the US or UEO. That created the obligation for the ENTIRE UEO Alliance membership to write up and institute several official formularies, letterhead templates and even a stylized colored business card for Lucas. The same model of official calling card that was offered to every civilian administrator, like Doctors Westphalen and Levine, when they accepted their contracts to work aboard. At the age of 16, Lucas had made it to the top 12 of the ship's best and most in-view officials. He had a LEGAL ("Humph! Men and their idiotic applications of stupidly made Laws!" Kristen protested vehemently) function, position and the right to read / work with classified reports. He now had a solid claim to sit on council and assist in the decision-making and management of the ship as a whole.
And he thrived on it. Like he was born for it. Like he was Nathan's spiritual heir finally revealed after all these years of waiting in the shadows for just the right moment to claim his heritage. The work he did with Darwin had spawned a lot of stories around the US Navy's captaincy and the higher brass were now taking account of his existence as if Lawrence was now obsolete since his son could replace him. And with a personality like they both had, who in their right mind wouldn't want to trade out the father for the much friendlier, stabler son?
Bah! "Spiritual Heir" indeed! He must really be getting soft in the head if all that romantic drivel from his poor wife's fantasy novels was finally percolating inside his thick head.
But the fundamental truth was that this whole thing started as a playful way for Nathan to break the ice with the teenager to gauge his reactions to a rather questionable, emotionally straining joke. He had wanted to see for himself if the young man really was a discipline problem who would blow up violently for menial reasons as his father claimed and Bill Noyce parroted blindly, or if there was something behind all of it.
The reaction he got for his little misapplied psych test was still mind blowing three weeks later. The kid turned around his as-of-yet surly, standoffish, introverted attitude to become almost overnight an extroverted ball of goodness, bouncing down the corridors while sporting a megawatt smile. And lets not forget; the blaring hard rock selection, played in his room loud enough for sensor chief Ortiz to remind him periodically to pipe it down so he could actually listen outside the ship once in a while.
Nathan leaned backwards against the wall on the far side of his bunk, looking at the glowing numbers on his alarm clock. 6:04 am. Blergh! It was way too early in the morning to have such meandering thoughts. That's what eleven o'clock in the evening and a glass of brandy were for. And the images... Bridger massaged his temples, on both sides of his head in slow, circular motions. He had a crapton of stuff to process before breakfast but, honestly, was clueless as to where to begin or how. And he just knew that Kristen wouldn't help any. Her opinions about Lucas, his work-product, his access to military files, the not-so-secretive hacking into classified and illegal sites topped by his legal/political place amongst the ship's crew had become as many subjects of contention that put her at odds with almost everybody, starting with the usually friendly and genuinely amicable teenager.
Lucas had honestly, openly earned his place on the ship's council and in the hearts of the crewmen like a barnacle boring its way through the hull of a wooden sailboat. He did it with his assiduous and unrelenting work ethos to never quit a job he voluntarily took on while never promising more than he could deliver. He did it one person at a time with his stable, reliable, amiable personality that almost everybody on board appreciated and wanted to have by their side when thing got tough or weird.
Except the Chief medical officer who kept bleating like a sheep about the illegality and immorality of having a child anywhere aboard a military ship. Well, she got a nasty wake-up call when the GAO, JAG, NCIS, CG, CGIS, FBI and the much vaunted US Attorney's office all returned legal advices that matched or confirmed each other. Lucas was 16 years old before he came aboard so he had reached the minimum age that The Law states a person can apply to join the Navy. With the caveat that a minor, under age 18, must have a valid permission form signed by their legal custodial guardian and the form must be validated by a Standing naval and/or Governmental Authority like a civilian court or one of the many agencies in Washington DC. Lawrence signed the sheet with his eyes closed and Bill Noyce countersigned. End of story.
Lucas was LEGALLY on board of SeaQuest but had not gotten paid or been given an actual cabin or proper treatment as a person for the first three weeks because the Navy, meaning their proxy the ship's captain, was supposed to look over the agreement between Lawrence and Noyce and then determine the duty station appropriate for the age, mind and skills of the boy to work at. Nobody told Nathan that small detail when he took (was gang-pressed!) the job. Even the specific file about Lucas that had been in the safe of his quarters had no information about the agreement or contractual obligations that Lucas might still have outside the ship towards his family or World Power Project for his father. Everything was fubar in the hole but then accidentally cleared up because of his timely, if poorly, executed farce.
Well, ha! Take that, logic! Human knee-jerk-reaction rules again!
Nathan groaned against his completely foggy thought patterns, his mind refusing to work in linear fashion so early before first light. What a bloody fucking mess they had on their hands now.
After Shraeder's inept minion Lance Bowman had almost started a catastrophe in the servers, Nathan had again committed an error in speed and inattention. The battle group stationed above the Quest during the hull siphon trials had asked who was their 'CCA' in charge of cybernetics and cypher security for the classified sections of the ship's data module stack. Having been squeezed between the dead corpse of a certain uncouth lout resting on his command deck and the necessities of organizing the repairs and return of his crew aboard R-F-N, Bridger had not paid attention to a few details on the digital form that was displayed on the tablet held before him by the ensign. History repeated itself and now Lucas had two full time jobs to keep up with. And he did, the little bastard, he did indeed.
By putting Lucas's name on the form as guardian of the ship's deepest and most heavily coded secrets inside the very heart of their billion-dollar server, Nathan had accidentally told the entire US Navy fleet, along with their partners in NATO and the UEO, that he was the 'person of authority' when matters of Information Technologies or Cybernetic Security were spoken of. Hence Lucas now got to modify his business cards to add 'Chief Computer Analyst' and 'GAO agent, OpSec analyst for Classified and Cyphered Affairs' to go along the very distinguished turquoise lettering proclaiming him 'Chief of Mammal engineering' and 'Permanent Senior Member, Ship's Administrative Council'.
Kristen was not a happy doctor of human medicine, biology, biochemistry, genomics and veterinarian medicine; no she was not...
Blast! Now there's that migraine he had been avoiding... It came home to papa after all... Damn!
The worst part of the whole story was that instead of partying all night like any young sailor or bureaucrat receiving a healthy rank promotion (with pay and benefits, I'll have you know!) Lucas went head first into taking his new department by the horns, tails and tentacles to beat it into shape so he could present to the council a credible outlook for reforming the team, his team now, and what schedule they could expect him to need to get things functional up to reliable standings. It took him almost 30 hours straight of hard unrelenting work without rest and just a few five-minute toilet breaks as he ate with one hand, typing with the other or speaking to the computer's vocal processor as he went.
The report was given yesterday evening before going for a shower, his first real hot meal in two days and a clear order from Nathan that he would crash in the captain's quarters as his were still cordoned off by NCIS yellow tape as a crime scene. The widespread layer of shards of glass, plastics, metals and some wooden splinters from the two picture frames that used to overlook the bunk littered the whole place making it uninhabitable for the near future. Most of his clothing had bullet holes and fire damage from the cretin who threw a shrapnel grenade into the room before closing the door to contain both the blast and the flames.
They were lucky God loved them so much that the various gas and ammonia pipes had been purged and the electricals cut off by Lucas himself as part of his somewhat paranoid escape-the-invaders reaction. He had foreseen that anybody invading the ship would wind up at his doorstep seeking the CPU access codes as well as any way to get into the comms suite, the sensors and the nuclear stockade. The teen took measures that were exceptionally clever and final in keeping those codes and passes out of hands not his own.
It changed nothing to the final result, which was a young man practically destitute of worldly belongings, wearing only the clothes on his back for the next week or so until they reached land for medical check-ups by neutral-party doctors as obliged by NCIS and JAG requirements for the investigation to proceed cleanly. After that, everybody had a mandatory shore leave of five days to recover from traumatism, shock and get some family time for those who could. Lucas had nobody to contact or live with, especially not in this small fishing town of Northern Australia. He just planned to shop for new 'stuff' in what stores they had, just enough to have a livable setup. After that, he would spend his time alone on the beach or the cheap motel room he would rent since he had precious little money to spare after just a few weeks of payed work accruing in his account.
Hence Nathan's dilemma as he let the worn out child enjoy the Rest of the Just as he had so clearly earned in full. The older adult wanted to help by inviting him to share the hotel room he would rent in a mid-level building right off the portuary area of town. Since it wasn't by any stretch of the imagination a tourist town, the prices were very reasonable and he could afford a two bedroom with full bathroom suite for the price of a miserable single-bed in a cheap motel in New Cape Quest. It wasn't a hardship on his well padded wallet at his age and career, as you can see.
Try telling that to a teenager who just struck the motherload of job opportunities right in his domain of studies, right at the beginning of his career, just on the very cusp of adulthood. Add that said teenager was a fiercely private, defensive, prickly character and you would have a sea mine called 'personal pride in his accomplishments' floating off your bow.
No, this wasn't going to go well at all when he offered... And then Kristen would tetch because he hadn't imposed his will or broken the boy to his authority as she kept telling him to do. She had told him just last night that Lucas had far too much free time and freedom to do whatever he wanted for a boy his age.
She had the gall to claim quite vocally that he should be constricted to his compartment and forbidden from fraternizing with the rest of the crew until he learned to respect the authority and station of adults in his life. She further claimed that he had proven to be quite impolite, ill-mannered, ill-bred, rebellious and, to her unsubstantiated saying, even threateningly aggressive towards varied members of the civilian science staff.
By 'scientific staff' she meant only herself; Nathan wasn't blind or senile yet despite his age.
There was a full-blown power struggle going on between the Chief of medicine and his CME/CCA that he just didn't think would resolve itself without somebody's career burning in tatters on the ground. While many people uneducated in the culture of the military and government might say it was Lucas who was headed for a much needed comeuppance and put-down of his teenaged rebellion, Nathan knew better.
The LETTER of the Law as well as its spirit were behind the young man. That had been put in stone as soon as the permission to embark had left Lawrence's desk for it's layover on Bill's table and then its ill-fated arrival on his own docket. The forms were signed, sealed and struck, then uploaded to the UEO central administration which then sprayed it around to every member federation, then the individual member-states of the federations who then each shared with the embassies of the countries they were friendly with.
The process happened three times by now; with his presence on board as a legally contracted civilian consultant; with his posting as CME and then with his posting as CCA. Once was accident, twice was happenstance but thrice was a plan in motion. The Governing Authority didn't want to hear anything that would remove the very talented and compulsively productive Professor Wolenczak out of his functions, positions, ranks and certainly not out of their employ. He was both a golden boy and a walking gold mine of tech to such extent that the US Navy / UEO Alliance explained to him in gloriously painful detail just how they would rather sack the other officers and administrators of the ship than lose Lucas to some other organization or back to a private consulting firm.
There was no turning back time, this wasn't a fantasy or sci-fi story; there was no Dumbledore with a Time Turner hidden in the closet, no matter how much crying and bitching some crew members were bound to express publicly. Despite all this, Nathan had some damned heavy arbitration to do because Lucas was still not Legally Emancipated but the UEO did not require him to have a Legal Guardian anymore since he was Chief of two departments and had been placed on the ship's council as if he had been elected alderman to a municipal council. He was deemed responsible enough for full autonomy on his own recognizance by the Law and Custom, but the situation was not pressing enough to actually produce a Writ of Emancipation unless the teen or someone else went to court and asked for one.
Noyce wasn't pushing for emancipation, but nobody knew his game plan. Lawrence was warned by email; his phone was not receiving voice messages and his secretary admitted that 85% of the time she could only contact him by email too. As far as the Law was concerned, The Stone was cut. So was it the Law of the land as it was written in The Stone.
Rise and shine sleepyhead
(SeaQuest – season 1 – opening theme)
Sunday 9th of February, 2020; 6:40am
SeaQuest DVS 6000, UEO flagship, captain's quarters
North of the Australian coastline
Nathan walked out of his en-suite bathroom; towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hands as he vigorously dried his short cropped grey hair. Grumping to himself about his old age addling his memory, he made for his closet where he had forgotten his clothes before showering. Getting on in age wasn't so much fun past 60. Even the sub's completely regulated climate systems were getting to his nerves lately. It just wasn't a valid replacement for the sun and wind on the beach of his island, where even the hazards of Mother Nature throwing out an occasional rainfall or tropical storm was actually a welcome respite from monotony and isolation.
As the captain of what was arguably presently the world's most dangerous warship afloat, Bridger had put back in service quickly two of the most necessary capacities that an officer needed to stay alive. He had far too many classified informations floating around his head and far too much technical expertise to think he was not a prime target for kidnapping or murder. His two best advantages were his quick reflexes that were helped by his lean-built physique and his incredibly good hearing. These were two vital assets when going around the politos in Washington DC, an active war theater or the scaffolds of a drydock with hundreds of workers and thousands of moving machines and parts. All of these situations were potentially lethal if they catch you off guard, some more immediately than others. In a functioning submarine, it meant the difference between hearing or not the tiny little noises that the bulkheads and girders make as their screws, rivets and welds move and shift along with the ship's movement and water pressure from outside, thus telling the mariners that all was well.
It was those two vital assets that made him hear and then react to the first signs of trouble just as he was buttoning his blue uniform trousers. Padding barefoot and still bare chested over to the couch, he knelt down next to the mop of wheat-blond hair barely visible from where the armrest would be. With infinite gentleness he placed a hand on top of the teenager's skull, asserting himself as a calm, safe presence to ease the struggling child out of his beginning nightmare. Nathan sighed in worry. Lucas had a habit of couch surfing with the crew whom he had befriended in his short stay aboard. It had rapidly been discovered that he suffered from intermittent bouts of insomnia and occasional nightmares that on at least two occasions had devolved into night terrors. His bunkmate had been scared so badly that they called the infirmary to obtain help in waking him safely. It looked like this was such an occasion in progress.
Oh boy, what a Sunday this was shaping up to be. Would you like an ulcer with your plate of stress, kind sir?
Nathan focused on the movements and noises from the youth as he ceased thrashing around the couch and his breathing regularized. Less than a minute later, a pair of sleepy flint-blue eyes was gazing around blearily, scanning rapidly the area, already alert against whatever could harm Lucas. That was another worrisome trait; he had a bad habit of waking up stressed and frightful, as if he had been attacked in his sleep before. Well, a certain captain who had some past training with the CIA would flush it out of him soon. They would have a few days together and he would insist on tagging along. The kid could tetch all he wanted; it wouldn't change Bridger's decision anymore. Besides, teenagers were normally pouty, moody and verbose about everything around them. Would the situation be really that different than normal?
"Hey there, kiddo… What was it this time? Nightmare or memory? Oh, ah… Good morning too, I guess… If you can call 06:45am good… Or morning yet 'cuz it feels like the dead of night to me still."
The boy's blinking eyes stilled and calmed, his shallow rapid breaths also slowing and deepening as he finally realized his location and who was near him. As the older man kept up a steady stream of gentle-toned prattle, the child yawned wide enough to pass an MR-class shuttle through his mouth with clearance on each side and then made faces at the feel of the sweat and cramps he always had when waking right from a nightmare. Moving himself around to properly sit on the couch while keeping the comfortably warm blankets around his thin frame, Lucas shook his head to set his hair out of his face and eyes. That was the practical aspect of the length he kept it, despite many laughs and quips from the crew about looking like a moving weeping willow out of a fantasy novel; one or two shakes of the head and everything was in place and stayed there without effort. The fact it looked cool and he liked longish hair was also nice.
After another jaw-breaking yawn, he scratched at his chest while pursing his lips, wondering what he was missing that had set off the alarm bells in his head. Oh, yes! Suddenly getting up, blankets still clinging tigthly about him, the boy moved towards the bathroom door with clear intent, leaving a bemused sailor in his wake. Less than five minutes later and he came back to sit on the couch with a wide, easy smile and was already leaning with the intent to return to the Land of Nod when the aggressive tinny bell of his cellphone jerked both he and Bridger in surprise. Allowing a deep sigh to escape, the teen fished around under the couch next to where he had laid his head for the night and came out, pulling up his work satchel from which he removed the vibrating, buzzing and sound blaring device. Bridger winced in sympathy for the barely woken boy; that damn alarm made more noise than a mark 9 torpedoe exploding!
"Captain, sir… Did you by any chance allow people access to the deck-E electronics vault? Cuz the sensors I placed all around are telling me that somebody by-passed the regular alarms and is in the process of opening the airlock's outer valve… And even the hydraulic oil lines that you put in the design to serve as manual connection to a bell in the security office and the bridge have been compromised by what my readings are! This is serious, sir!"
Nathan wasted no time in reaching his desk and flipping two switches; one to call up the security camera's live feed to his monitor and the other to immediately send a team of armed sailors to stop whoever was trying to penetrate the ship's S.C.I.F. (Secured Classified Information Facility). These bozos would learn the hard way that the Navy never sleeps nor wavers in its vigilance, especially not under Bridger and the people he kept aboard. Damn! He owed the kid again! Ah, well! He did think that Lucas had earned his many jobs in full, so no biggy; right?
"Bridge to captain! Sir, we have some weird metal bell ringing and we can't find where it is. If you hear it in the background, could you tell us what it is? We've… Ah… We were never told of a bell like that one during training so… I'm kind a clueless here, sir. I'm sorry, sir!" The poor ensign who had been given the conn until morning shift was well and truly out of his depths here, poor lad. Nathan was about to say something when another voice from the background of the bridge noise rose in panick: "Fuck me hard! The computer's decided to flood parts of deck-E with fluoro-marker gas! And it's also closing blast-doors and re-routing steam from the water boilers to a set of pipes that I didn't know were there!"
Noticing the blanket-covered boy that now stood two feet in front of him, he saw Lucas had pursed his lips and was gritting his teeth, obviously preparing for a confrontation with the older mariner. "What do you know about this Lucas?" the captain asked in an even tone. No need to scare the boy if it was what he suspected already. That program to close doors was nice but the steam? Bridger would not have done that since the risks of accidental trigger were rather high. Lucas however would have prioritized securing the Vault at all costs and rationalized it as a statistically safe bet. Reality didn't roll numbers, it threw curve balls and exceptions while changing its on laws to meet whatever fancy took it that day. Bah! The kid was young, he would learn.
"Heu… I might have been a bit peeved about Shraeder and his monkeys traipsing around our house like cockroaches and I might have made a few teeny, ah… Improvements? Optimizations? Yeah! That's it! I optimized a few of the detection and automated response systems in zones of the grid that had weaknesses." The boy raised both hands defensively, gesticulating wildly as if he was preparing for Bridger to lash out at him. "Don't worry about it, sir! It was just a few quick fixes! Nothing permanent and mostly just through putting a few subroutines together with some existing physical parts that nobody really uses in daily jobs. Like the steam nozles to wash down the ship's insides in case of fire or chemical spill. They were built-in at the drydock when she was put together but they were never even tested in full! So… I might have thought up a few – innovative – ways to put them to use without compromising the actual primary function since it's the same job anyways…"
Bridger stood with his hands on his hips, a weird expression screwed on his face as he contemplated the clearly frantic and fearful teen that was now fidgeting and chewing his lower lip like he was about to be sent into the school principal's office for a 'talk' about his attitude. On one hand, it was incredibly amusing for Bridger since the poor kid was damn cute when he worried like that. It reminded him of Robert at that age on the very few occasions that his wife and he had to set their son's comportment back in line with what they expected of him. On the other hand, it also made Nathan wonder what he had ever done to the kid for him to be so damned nervous all the time around him, especially now that his status aboard had been legalized and set in stone. Well, another nugget to dig up in the gold mine of mysteries that was Lucas Wolenczak's mind and life. Later. Now he had a boat demanding her captain's attention.
Clearing his throat, he asked Lucas in clear clipped phrases: "Lucas, are you telling me that you turned the inside of my ship into a self-regulating vegetable steamer without telling me?" The kid's face as he tried and failed miserably to process the question was truly priceless and Nathan thanked himself for having had the forethought to install a few private, off-the-wires cameras and sensors in case of a break-in or things disappearing from his quarters. Now that he had a teenaged dormer in house, it also helped keep his mind at peace that any allegations of improper behavior from him against Lucas would be cleared out right away. It also meant that he could view the film of this conversation and print out the face the kid just made… For later use when the young man tried to assert that nothing ever caught him off guard, you know, just to keep his feet on the ground… Snort!
"Captain!" The poor teenager replied in a strangled voice, not sure if he should laugh about the comparison or hide under the couch from sheer embarassement at how the other man described his improvised security measures. This was serious, damn it all! And the comm-line to the bridge was open, too! Speaking of which…
"So it was that bilge rat bastard who set up those alarms and gave the bridge crew a heart attack?" Came the angry voice from the ensign. "Hope you tan his hide! What the fuck was he thinking setting up ship-wide alarms anyways? And they sound like old schoolyard recess bells too!"
Seeing the boy in front of him go pale in fright, again, Bridger had no patience for the officer at the other end of the line. "Listen here, you dimwitted gull! That's the Chief of Mammal Engineering, Chief Computer Analyst and GAO's rep aboard that you just blasted and said you wanted to see beat like a dog! I want you in conference room A, besides my quarters at 11:00am sharp for a talk with me about keeping your ill-mannered reactions and bigotry to yourself! Is my message clear ensign?"
Taking a deep breath, Bridger then answered the question from the now mostly silent bridge, all the while taking objects from his desk to fill his pockets and prepare for the trip down to the ship's guts. A short hand gesture had Lucas dropping the blankets on the chair near him and scram to find his jeans and flannel shirt to dress up for the sudden job downstairs as his commander had made it clear he wanted him along.
"The old-style alarm is connected by several redundant oil-lines to a secured compartement on deck-E, in the ship's lowest point. It indicates that somebody thought they could access the most secured computers and data modules in our care without anybody having a clue we were penetrated by spies. The alarm is from my original design of the ship whilst the steam-routing was implemented by Lucas as part of his ad-hoc measures to secure the systems until we reach dock and design permanent devices and protocols to avoid another Shraeder-typed scenario from unfolding in our house again. I have already sent armed security to the Vault and you should in fact have seen that command pass since it also triggers alarms and messages of its own." Bridger clipped on his PAL device and placed the antique mechanical diver's watch on his left wrist when the fatidic news came from the loudspeakers in the monitor: "Heu… Begging the captain's pardon, sir, but we haven't heard a peep from the systems, or security or anything else about whatever's going down on deck-E. And there ain't no comm chatter from security either. The office, the marines, the armory, it's all silent. Sir, are sure the alarms did what they should?"
Seeing the teenager now dressed with his satchel on his left shoulder, ready for the road, the captain answered "Call Crocker directly on his PAL and ask about the alarms! Have another begin calling the security office and the armory ASAP! And you call the senior officers right after you drop me! I'm heading down to deck-E and Lucas is coming with me! Bridger out!"
The boy's anxious face told him many things but he could not make heads or tails of them so he asked out loud as he made hand gestures to get the boy walking briskly towards the current crisis, "Okay kiddo, what's the panick-inducer this time? I know I didn't have any coffee in the pot when you woke up but that doesn't mean the ship is down to sharing Kristen's tea until we dock." He tried to pass a light hearted joke to get the boy talking. Sometimes it worked with Robert, sometimes it insulted him as he tought he wasn't being taken seriously. In either case; calm answer or explosive outrage, Nathan always got the vital answer to deliver assistance to the child in his care. Today would be no different, even with alarms, iffy comm lines and obvious breakdowns in ship-wide security protocols.
Blowing an exasperated breath through his nose, the teen was now in a right proper sulk. "Did you hear that guy on the comm? He called me a bilge rat! After I bled and killed for him and the rest! I oughtta march up there and sock him one right in the face! It would improve how he looks, too!" The now steaming kid growled, much to the amusement of his superior as the poor little guy was barely 155 pounds whith all his clothes and equipment. He could imagine how the crew on the bridge would just not take seriously any threats made by the teenager until they saw him gut a man with a grapefruit spoon like he had. The video from the mess-hall pantry had almost put him off ever hunting and butchering his own deer. Almost. Instead he would ask Lucas if he had ever gone hunting and offer to go on a little expedition together. Bringing back a rack of antlers to place in his cabin would certainly make the – manlier - elements of the crew give him some slack. In the meanwhile, he let the younger man grumble and tetch under his breath about the many traumatic ways he would teach the poor officer at the conn about respecting younger, less muscular guys who actually used more than one brain cell during their daily duties. Bridger could only wince in sympathy for the poor ensign since he could imagine not beeing able to take a single hot shower all week if Lucas really did manage to program the waterflow controllers in the shower halls to recognize the man and then allow only frigid water to come out.
Note to self, Bridger thought; stay very honest and have a light, gentle hand when establishing discipline for Lucas since the kid fought back dirty and could reach where it hurt for real.
The lawman cometh to town
(Full Metal Alchemist - Amestris)
Sunday 9th of February, 2020; 6:58am
SeaQuest DVS 6000, UEO flagship, deck-E, S.C.I.F. Vault
North of the Australian coastline
Nathan strode through the labyrinthine bowels of deck-E with a grace and speed that only he who designed her and the workers at the shipyard could match. This was the lowest, darkest, dankest and most noisome of the ship's five decks. It was dubbed 'the machinery deck' which was in fact a misnomer since any mariner would tell you that a submarine is filled with machines all over inside and outside and it's the humans that are in the way of the machines doing their jobs right. While there were the engines' main components, the water tanks, pumps and plumbing controls, ventilation and air cooling plants, several backup diesel generators, and oh, a few thousand other sundry knicknacks that all helped keep the boat afloat, it still was not the only 'machinery' deck at all. Deck-C which housed the central parking silos and massive outer doors for the launch bays was certainly as mechanically equipped as deck E, just differently. The fusion core and its fuel reclamation systems, along with the plasma autoclave to destroy their garbage and toxic wastes were on deck-D. The maglev was so tall and beefy that it took two decks to put it inside the ship's hull. The passenger cabin was on deck-A from the bridge to the worshops in the ship's tail but the wheel bogies and rails were in the maintenance slash infrastructures & services tunnel beneath on deck-B. And hadn't that given a nightmare to the shipyard people when they built her. Nathan smirked in vengeful satisfaction when he remembered Bill Noyce's disbeleiving face when he first saw the design. Oh, good times, those were!
Hearing mumbling and grunting next to him, Bridger pulled his attention back to the present and the teenager escorting him to what could be a potentially dangerous situation. He honestly would have preferred to tell Lucas to head to the bridge or the security office to stay safely out of the way but the communications and alarm systems being compromised meant anything could happen and he would not know. Also, since the boy made some – optimizations - to the ship's internal security, he needed the kid at arm's length to interrogate and get him to set things in working order. Snort! Crocker and Hitchcock were going to have a cow when they heard what the brat did with the sensors and steam nozzles! Note to the captain: protect the hide of the little runt until we are out of danger and then stand aside to enjoy the show!
"Heu, captain? Are you sure it's a good idea for me to come here? If there's danger, maybe I shoulda gone to the bridge? Or stayed in your cabin to act as coordination hub or something?"
Nathan blinked his eyes in surprise; not only did the kid's words match his own thoughts they also showed that Lucas was thinking with his mind, not his pride or trying to go glory-hunting. Hum! Nice! He would have even better matter to work with in the coming weeks. Making Lucas into a workable, reliable adult colleague was going to be an interesting, rewarding task; he could foresee it.
Explaining in short words what his reasoning was, the captain gestured with his hands to guide the teen along the way. He wanted to be in front so any danger would go through him first thus giving the boy a chance to escape and get help. "I thought about it but the alarms and comms seem compromised from what I heard a few minutes ago, when we spoke to the bridge crew. In that case, I prefer to have you beside me. That and you are the only one who knows how you modified the sensors and steam cleaners so I am kinda stuck with you for now. Oh, and we will be having a conversation at some point about your interesting habits of 'optimizing' my ship without obtaining my permission beforehand. While it was a good idea, and well executed by what I can see, you should still have cleared it with me first."
Seeing the boy was again chewing his lower lip in worry and looking straight down to his feet as he walked, Bridger sighed and wondered again what kind of childhood the kid had lived to be so susceptible to even the slightest verbal rebuke. He had even put in a straight out compliment in there, too! What was the teen so afraid of? "Talk to me Lucas! Don't hold it inside, I can't help you if you don't exteriorize the problem for me to see it and work with it."
"How much trouble am I in now? O mean, before the fuck-up with your damned joke about making me chief of mammal engineering, I was a minor in the eyes of the crew and Law. Now I'm not anymore. So what happens now? I put in programs of my own initiative and I reset the washdown system, all of it without getting clearance for it. I would have talked about it to the whole council at today's meeting; if you read my report and list of recommandations to secure the ship against another invasion scenario, it's listed there as 'in test phase' already. But just because of timing and somebody trying to spy on us already, it makes it look like I fucked the pooch again. Like I tried to take over the boat from you and I don't know what else people will say or think I tried to do behind your back. So what now? After we clear up the S.C.I.F.? The brig? Confined to quarters until the NCIS medicals and then on a plane to US mainland?"
Bridger stopped short and turned to look directly into the fright-filled flint-blue eyes of a child he was rapidly beginning to want to keep not only on his boat but near himself. The level of thoughtfulness, intelligence and honesty in this kid made him a bit jealous because he was so much more than Robert had been at that age. On the other hand, he was also much more lost-at-sea in his own life than Robert and his friends had ever been in their worst situations. And Robert never killed anybody before he was 24 years old and serving aboard his first ship's posting. What Lucas had lived in the last three days, it would pull apart the mind of most children, teenagers and young adults that Bridger had known in his life to date.
Moving carefully his arms to give Lucas the time to adjust to the gesture, he placed his hands gently on the boy's shoulders and squeezed in support. "Nothing will happen to you that will be bad. If you did indeed put it in the recommandation part of your report, then it was part of your job attributions and the spy just caught us flatfooted, as well as himself too. And even if you hadn't, due to the situation, the clean-up still underway, and the urgency of securing everything ASAP, you would not be the only one with backlogged admin and reports not finished writing. I know for a fact that I have two such documents incomplete, Hitchcock has about four, Ford three and Crocker has almost seven in his to-do pile. And I'm not even looking beyond the infrastructural departments into the science labs and special projects; those can wait at the back of the lineup. You will be fine, Kiddo. You will be safe, sound and fine. Okay?"
Lucas answered with a one shouldered shrug, hands deep in his jeans' pockets, but he kept his eyes locked on Bridger's and Nathan considered that the biggest victory and most important upgrade to his day yet. Now if they could only clean up this latest snafu and get some breakfast in the mess hall; he needed coffee and the idea of not brewing a pot during his shower time was coming back to haunt him as he could feel the lack of energy. His attention was caught by a popping noise followed by a fizzing one. Lucas held up a small 8 ounces night-black aluminum can with the tab pulled off; it was a caffeinated beverage called 'Black Bullet of Living Death'. The label garanteed it would keep you up and working, even though you might temporarily have the emotions and social skills of a zombie until you could sleep off the effects.
Nathan gave the teen a gimlet eye and asked "Aren't these the ones that had an official health advisory from the USDA and US Department of Health last month? AND aren't you supposed to be over 18 to drink this safely? Humm?"
Lucas fidgeted under the older man's gaze but firmed up and replied with some heat to his words: "I know those things! I'm not some idiot that's going to guzzle a case and wonder why I had a heart infarction at 16! I do have some officially credited health sciences formation, you know! I usually only take a quarter of the can and mix it in some regular soft drink like SevenUp or Coke to diffuse the potency and not make myself sick. Sometimes, I really need to pull an all-nighter and past 24 hours straight, the stuff gives me some fumes to last until the 30th hour and then I don't have a choice but to crash and sleep off the exhaustion. I also try not to do this more than once per month to not become sick or addicted. The stuff IS NOT good for your health in large quantities and it does actively modifiy your blood-chemistry for about 12 hours after drinking it, so I have always been extra careful when I drink some. Now stop griping at me and drink it; I opened it for you in lieu of coffee or tea. We don't have time for a pit stop and I can hear the stomping pace of the marines coming in."
With pursed lips and a look that promised the conversation was not over, Bridger took the small can and took an experimental taste of about half a mouthful. Berk! It tasted like a mixture of root beer, coffee, tea, chocolate and coca-cola that had been left on the hot plate for a week in the summer sun. But he had to admit, the concentrated caffeine and herbs was starting an effect already and he hadn't even swallowed yet. Now that he had, he could see Lucas' point about taking it diluted in something blander to change the taste. He always knew he was a smart kid. Blergh! What a rotten taste!
"Thanks Kiddo. It was a nice thought, but with a taste like that, I think I'll stick to my old post syrup from the mess hall. At least I won't feel it as it's killing me, contrary to that thing that really should have a lot more than an age warning on it." Blergh! Nathan was desperatly trying to salivate to clean the tsate out of his mouth.
The smarmy little brat at his side smirked wide and playfully, teasing out loud: "What's the matter? The big bad captain can't take a little bit of medicine without choking? Maybe I shoulda put it in some water with sugar and cinnamon to make it easier on your old pipes. I shoulda guessed that at your age, you weren't able to handle the hard stuff anymore!"
Nathan stopped moving, a hand over his mouth as he had been trying to get some feelings back in his uncooperative tongue, and just stood stock still, looking at the teenager who a moment ago was practically scared paler than his usual complexion. "Why, you pasty little gremlin! I oughta…!"
The captain's threat went incomplete as chief Crocker's booming laughter was heard in the corridor right behind them. "Ha! Looks like he got you good, didn't he, han cap'n!" The older officer laughed at his old friend of forty years. He might be just a lieutenant but he didn't let a lower rank stop him from doing the hard jobs and going against the high-ranked idiots when he had to. And the most important aspect of such a low rank was that he was never invited to shindigs and political events whereas Nathan always got dragged in kicking and screaming to do the trained pony routine of proving to the DC elite that yes, sailors could have a brain and technical skills just like regular people.
"Weeell, hello there Lucas!" Crocker exclaimed in a playful mood of his own. "I'll have you know that I slept quite well indeed, knowing that 'Mauler Lucas' was aboard to protect us from home invaders and criminals of all sorts of low-born crass. I did indeed."
With a sudden pursing of lips and half-closed eyes, his face somewhat pinched in outrage, the boy responded with his best biting sarcasm for such an early hour in the morning: "I't couldn't have been beauty sleep, then! And I'm sure I can still see straight despite the hour and not having enough sleep after the last three days of shit we went through. So, I'm guessing it was booze-induced. And that's weird 'cuz I coulda sworn the captain had requisitioned all the bottles for the Brass that was coming to sniff around after Shraeder crashed our party. Why Gator! Have you been holding back on the good uppity upper crust folk who control us little people's destinies? Oh, the shame!"
Bridger was looking at the kid beside him as if he had changed color or something whilst Crocker and his security people were laughing it out in full force. Manilow wiped a tear out of his eye and clapped the boy on his back hard enough to make his whole body move forward from the impact. "Ha! That's the spirit, kid! Don't let 'em see you sweat or panic! You're in the big boys' leagues now so chin up, straighten your spine and look 'em in the eyes while you're tellin' it like it is! Ain't that right Nate?"
Said Nate was in the process of ordering his thoughts about many things and replied silently by gesturing for the marines to take point while Lucas, Gator and himself would close the line. The group marched on and arrived at the location of the Vault merely a minute later.
We caught us a live one!
(Stargate SG1 – opening theme)
Sunday 9th of February, 2020; 7:03am
SeaQuest DVS 6000, UEO flagship, deck-E, S.C.I.F. Vault
North of the Australian coastline
"Well, this is a nice pickle we're in." spoke a despondant black man as he rubbed the back of his bald head. Jonathan Ford just knew that he was going to get razzed by the crew good and hard for this one. Oh, yes he would! He walked himself right into a lobster cage with his eyes wide open and didn't even blink till the trap closed behind him. Haaargh! The captain was going to kill him for this!
"Commander Ford! What in tarnation are you doing in the airlock to MY ship's S.C.I.F.?"
'Speak of the devil and he shall appear!' Jonathan could remember his grand-mother saying in his childhood. Man, this was not a time for the old gal to be right about stuff!
"Hello captain. Good morning to you too, sir." Ford tried in his calmest, most urbane tone. Suffice it to say it failed miserably when the pasty little gremlin next to the older officer snorted before breaking out in loud guffaws of belly deep laughter.
"Ah! Ah! Ah! We caught us a live u'n cap'n! Maybe us men can have some meat in da galley for t'change! Though, he's a mite small thar 'ne! Maybe we put him back an' catch againt next year wh'un he's fatt'n up!"
The marines were practically hollering in laughter while chief Crocker was passing a hand in his face to wipe the tears of hillarity out of his watering eyes. Bridger tried desperatly to maintain an officerly façade but it crumbled miserably when his friend of forty years had to lean against the bulkhead to avoid falling to the floor from laughing himself silly. The laughter from the ship's master joined the enlisted men and Ford just knew right there that this would haunt him for the rest of his career. He even had a vision of the captain's promotion committee asking him about his 'notoriously bad handling of classified materials and situations' with this incident in mind. He was screwed and couldn't find a way out. Ah, Crap!
"Humph! – Cough!" Bridger put a fist before his mouth to cough out his excess of humor and calm himself whilst Gator got the men back in line and silent. Well, okay, almost silent, but at least they lined up nicely. So disciplined those marines were…
"Well, now that we've had our fun… Perhaps the good Ex-O would care to tell his captain why it was he thought it a good idea to sneak around MY ship's bowels and poke around the S.C.I.F. without appropriate clearance? I am waiting, Jonathan. But do take your time." Bridger poked idly at the ceramic covered metal grate that had dropped from the ceiling to forbid exit from the airlock in case somebody breached the code to get inside but didn't have the actual authorization to be there. "After all, it's not like you are going anywhere soon." Nathan finished in a menacing tone, all humor gone.
Ford winced at the words and mannerisms of his CO; he was in shit up to his neck and it would only get deeper when he learned why he was here. Gulping in anxious anticipation of the coming blow-out, Jonathan was silently thankful the Navy had abolished corporal punishments and keel-hauling about a century ago. Visions of himself tied to one of the metal girders in the mess hall getting whipped raw kept swimming in front of his eyes. He dearly hoped Bridger would be as humane as his reputation claimed and at least be quick with whatever he did.
"Well, sir, it was like this." The commander began while rubbing his sweaty palms on the legs of the blue jumpsuit uniform he wore this morning. "After the mess up with Shraeder and his men, I had some worries about the Vault and wondered if I should check it or just ask you to validate it was secure. Someone to whom I shared my concerns made it clear that as the Ex-O and second-in-command, it was my duty to physically come and inspect the Vault to be sure with my own eyes."
Seeing Lucas's eyes squinted in thought, the man knew he was screwed over. Damned. Except it seemed the captain had the same thought at the same moment since he spoke again in menacing tones.
"You and this person wouldn't happen to have shared such concerns because of who was recently appointed as the Authority Responsible for Cyphered Affairs and Classified Materials aboard our good ship, would it commander? It would have absolutely no relation to the fact that Lucas was now in charge of this sector of the ship's infrastructures as well as the cybernetic contents, hum? Who, commander? Who was it that pushed you or empowered you to thinking that he was incompetent or too unreliable to hold this function, position and rank amongst our community?"
Ford was now sweating all over to the point he just knew he'd need a shower and a good glass of chilled juice to get back some control over his body's reactions. He had never realized just how scary Bridger could get when properly riled up. And pissing on the kid's patch would do that for him. If only he'd known that an hour ago!
Looking his CO straight in the eyes, he answered: "It was Chief of the US Navy Staff, general McFarlane, sir. He called me on secured line #4 at 06:30am ship's clock to ask about the Shraeder situation and the fallout with Lucas being made the GAO's Operational Security supervisory agent aboard. I had some reservation about what is well known, and you admitted it publicly yourself sir, a mistake of inattention and going too fast when filling out forms that had not existed the last time you commanded a ship. It so happened that the General shared my concerns and signed me a letter giving me permission to test out the S.C.I.F.'s perimeter and, if I got inside, test the quality of the cybernetics parts and the cyphering."
The teenager snorted in derisive, contemptuous laughter that resonated around the men with a meanness never before heard on his part. "You dumbkopf dumbass mule! I just got the job less than 24 hours ago! I have never even gone inside the damned room! It's like the second time in my four months aboard that I see the door! How the hell could I be held responsible for the contents or the CPU parts or the databases if I've never had access before?"
Lucas shook his head, angry to the point of boiling rage. "McFarlane was pulling your strings like a puppet and you danced along to his tune. He's wanted for years to make trouble for me to get me shipped off to a 'tough love boot-camp' for juvenile delinquents run by the church of morons that he's deacon at. He'd get a juicy commission in cash the moment my name was on the list and then get applauded by the sluts-of-the-pews the very first Sunday after I got to the camp. The fact that the camp was closed twice and now operates on a limited provisional license is no doubt meaningless! That all the allegations of paedophilia, torture, beatings and exploitation of the children in sweat-shop conditions were proven true is also surely not worth talking about! The kids were made to work like slaves 16 hours a day to supposedly earn their keep while at the same time the cursed fucking wankers were billing the parents 36,000$ a year and then billed the Florida State DCFS another 36,000$ for the same damned reason! They're perjurers, torturers and apostollates of criminality and felony!"
The child was so riled up now he was almost hyperventilating himself into a conniption. Nathan moved to place a steadying hand on the middle of his back and the other on his shoulder, just to give him emotional support from a human presence. He was immensely releived when the child didn't shake off his hands or try to move away.
Lucas continued reaming out Ford in public. He had a full abcess to purge and nobody was going to silence him about this! "If you wonder where their blasted 'christian charity' they keep harping about is hiding, I'll point you to the shit pits out back! Because, oh yeah! They dond't have no plumbing! Apparently, one of their ex-marines coaches that got sacked from the corps on RAPE and MOLESTATION of recruits charges had the bright idea that running water made the kids weak and fat so he made them have to wash in the boat canal and shit by squatting over a trench in front of all the 200 people that live in the camp! Girls besides boys without separations!"
The teenager was now shaking with frustration, rage and also a good dose of raw fear. If he hadn't rapidly taken control of the washdown network to make his ad hoc intruder repulsion system, McFarlane would have gotten dominative control over him. The officer would have called not only for his being destituted from all his positions and jobs, but also for him to be sent to his church-run camp for some christianly morally uplifting education in the hallowed arts of discipline and obedience to adults. Fucking turd-cake of a child-rapist! As if Lucas wasn't really aware of the General's desires! How many times had the teen refused the man's orders to perform sex acts on him to 'earn' the General's confidence and trust just in the last ten years? How many times had McFarlane told him that only submissive, docile boys could be trusted and let free to roam about in society? Damned that blasted white trash son of a church-whore!
"Lucas! Peace, child! We'll take it from here on out." Crocker's gravelly voice spoke over all the noises. The brawny, and pudgy, older officer walked to the grate and rapped his knucles on it, causing a little hot water to trickle from the ceiling to sluice down the ceramic roll-down grillwork. Ford backed himself to the S.C.I.F.'s doorway until his back was flat against the armored panel and tried very much to stay still and non-threatening. The looks on Crocker and Bridger's faces were not good for him and the way Lucas was watching him was eerily reminescent of how he looked at the back of Shraeder's head as he swung the hammer. Speaking of which…
"Lemme at 'em!" the light-weight teenager growled, enraged. "I can make sure for you he won't ever compromise classified rooms again!" he exclaimed as he pulled out of his satchel a large monkey wrench covered in grease and blood spatter. Waving the ten pounds of tempered steel at the grate, Lucas advanced and slammed the wrench in the grill, causing a light showering of burning hot water to cascade from the ceiling for about ten seconds. The sudden cloud of steam wet the clothes of the four people closest to the grillwork and made Ford actually wimper in fear. Being parboiled to death like a hot dog sausage in a steamer was not a good way to go!
"Lucas! Kiddo! Back away from Ford, now! And where did you get that wrench anyways? And why, may I ask, is there so much blood all over it? Is this evidence from the boat's invasion?" Nathan grabbed the wrench from the child's hands.
"Sorry captain, sir! I kinda forgot I kept a little sometin in case they weren't all found. Sorry!" answered Lucas, who looked rather sheepish now as he joined his hands behind his back and fidgeted from one foot to another, chewing his lower lip, head bowed down to endure another public reprimand.
Crocker snorted in exasperation then poked the boy in the hip with his index finger, just to get a reaction out of the moping kid. "Bah! T'was nottin! Just don't forget stuff like that again! That there's Hitchcock's favorite monkey in engineering and the only one trained well enough to follow orders if I listen to her right. Better get it back to its place a'fore she comes lokkin for it!"
The teenager was now pale again, with a pitiful expression on his face to boot. "Ah, crud! I took Marty without realizing it! She's gonna kill me just on principle and then she'll assign me to do her whole department's paperwork on top just cuz she's got the rank for it! PLEASE! Can't you help a little guy adrift in the dark? PLEEEAAASE!" Lucas joined his hands in supplication before himself and bowed from the waist towards the security chief and captain, trying desperatly to garner some sympathy for his plight.
Bridger made an 'harrumph!' sort of sound and retorted in mock-sterness:"Oh, no, young man! You have gotten away with far too much as it is today! A little disciplining from Kathy will set you straight on the narrow path we expect from you! And there better not be any complaints about her being too severe or harsh! If I have to get involved you'll really have something to cry about, do you hear?"
The marines heard his voice and several saw his facial expressions so they knew he was just pulling the kid's leg for a bit of fun. Crocker thought it funny as hell, especially with the face the kid was making right now. Ford was simply glad nobody was jostling the grate anymore and could not give a damn for the kid at the moment. Nathan however saw a problem in the way Lucas had frozen is face and body language in what could be considered the human equivalent of a 'screen saver'. It was like the kid had suddenly lost all motor control and just stood there; utterly unresponsive except for the visage of fright he wore.
Speaking in a low, morose voice that tried but failed to hide the feelings of fear and betrayal, Lucas responded to his commanding officer. "Yes sir. Wathever you command, sir. Whatever the commander does I will accept and not complain, sir. What are your present orders, sir? Should I release the intruder repeller system, sir?" His voice was low, brittle and had an edge of weariness it hadn't had yet when speaking to the ranking sailors aboard in the four months he had been on ship. He joined his hands low in front of himself with his feet spaced at shoulder width and looked at the wall at a neutral spot between the two ranking officers present on the 'good' side of the bars. He had placed himself in the 'at ease, report' position used by militaries the world over and was now passively awaiting instructions.
It looked and felt unnatural to every soldier present. This was Lucas, a bouncing energetic ball of goofy goodness, enthusiasm and helpfulness. To see him reduced to a fearful child awaiting the anger-driven reactions of the soldiers around without even trying to plead his case or protest he had the right and the job to act as he did chilled many to the core. There was something in this child's life that was not going well and several decided they would start making some calls home to ask questions from friends and contacts off-ship.
Deciding that nothing more could be gained from speaking idle chatter or joking around, Bridger exhaled a deep, worried breath as he exchanged a look with Gator and the lead marine of the patrol. Turning his face fully to Lucas he spoke his orders clearly, in an even tone to try and calm the child's fears. "CCA Wolenczak. I mean, Lucas, I would like to let go of my Ex-O. For now. He and I will have a serious conversation later on about following feloneous orders from people not authorized to give such orders to begin with. In the meanwhile, I happen to like the way you set up the system. Reset it and make certain that you have the details in an annex separate from your main recommandations file when you hand in your report at the ship's council's meeting tonight, at 19:00pm after dinner. Execute and then process out the rest of your day as you had planned it."
Bridger moved out of the way to let the anxious teen access the airlock so he could temporarily shut off the washdown system while the grate was retracted into the ceiling and Ford was taken to the infirmary to make sure he had not suffered vapor burns. As the jittery kid passed in front of him, Nathan suddenly moved to very gently place his left hand on his chest, over Lucas's heart, and his right hand at the teen's nape, giving his neck a gentle delicate squeeze to comfort him.
Nathan used his most persuasive voice and tried to instill calmness into his words and gestures so the child could absorb it and lower his fear and anxiety. "Commander Hitchcock will do nothing to you while I am around Lucas. Nobody will harm you aboard ship while we stand beside you."
Nathan saw the boy chewing his lower lip in doubt and understood that he would not get any aquiescence from him today. Not with his lack of sleep, lack of food and his emotions visibly all over the place even when he made a visible effort at controlling his reactions against his instincts. Lucas had given in the last 72 hours more than many adults had to give. It was time for him to rest and recover until tonight. "Go, and then go back to sleep a few hours. It will do you good." Bridger spoke softly.
With a quick nod, Lucas took less than 30 seconds to disarm the steamers and retract the roll-down grill. Even before Ford had taken a step, the teen had practically sprinted out of the area, and was flat out running when he reached the staircase upwards. The soldiers watched him go, wrapped in fear, uncertainty and probably humiliation at his own emotions and reactions having been publicly seen.
No, this was not a good Sunday morning for anybody anymore.