Power Trip
By dreamofshadows
Disclaimer: I own nothing seaQuest. Darn it all. I'm just borrowing. Heavily. ;o)
AN: Everyone thinks that Lucas really didn't want to be an officer, but I bet he liked it. :o)
Stand in the place where you live
Now face north
Think about direction
Wonder why you haven't
Now stand in the place where you work
Now face west
Think about the place where you live
Wonder why you haven't before
-REM – Stand-
He actually liked being an officer. He never thought it would happen. He used to look down on everyone else and think, "Ha ha, you have to follow other people's orders, make their beliefs yours, but not me. I'm my own person."
But that was child-Lucas. Adult-Lucas knew better. Adult-Lucas had spent that last ten years that didn't really exist for him growing up. He couldn't remember what had happened on Hyperion, but it changed him all the same.
It was a little strange. Ever since they got back, he wanted to be something more than just Lucas Wolenczak, child genius. He wanted to be important. He wanted to matter. God help him, he even wanted a career.
So when Hudson said no civilians it gave him the perfect opportunity to put some direction into his life. No more floating around aimlessly.
And the truth was, he'd always been a little bit jealous of the officers. They got to make the decisions; they got the credit. Sure, Captain Bridger always listened to Lucas and always said "Well done, son." And that was important to him. It really was. But when it came down to the important stuff, the big stuff, who are you going to trust, a sixteen- year-old kid or a thirty-something lieutenant?
Everyone kept saying "Oh, no, not you, Lucas. This isn't you. Why would you do this?" SeaQuest was his home. It was the only place he ever felt truly comfortable. He couldn't abandon his home to live in a world that had spent the past ten years changing without him just to uphold their image of the perfect Lucas. Besides, what was so wrong with him that he couldn't be like them?
And he did enough on this boat to get paid – really paid, not those nickel and dime wages Bridger got for him back when he threw a temper tantrum about working for free. God, how could he have once been so childish? That seemed like centuries ago.
It was about damn time somebody had to listen to him and do what he said. He had been kicked around enough; it was time to do some kicking of his own. It was time to prove himself. It was time to show them all what he could do.
Anyway, he looked a hell of a lot better in uniform than he ever had in those ratty flannel shirts. Even if he did have to cut his hair.