This story follows on about a month after the ending of 'A Stranger I Once Knew' during which the UEO headquarters at New Cape Quest was attacked by an army of humanitarian and political activists from the Indo-Pacific Confederation. During the ensuing battle Doctor Wendy Smith tragically lost her life.
A month later, after a much needed summer vacation, the crew are embarking on their third tour with Captain Bridger at the helm, ready to take on the challenges of a politically unstable world.
Disclaimer – Created for personal enjoyment only – no financial gain incurred. seaQuest DSV concept and characters remain the copyright and intellectual property of Universal Pictures and Amblin Entertainment.
Feedback is always very welcome – if you've read and enjoyed, let me know.
***
seaQuest DSV 4600 - II
seaQuest DSV Berth,
UEO Headquarters,
New Cape Quest,
Florida.
July 10th, 2022 - 1036
At least he was prepared this time.
The long lines of disorientated sailors and scientists, the haphazardly stacked cases of supplies - the organised chaos that was the launch bay on the first morning of the tour; it was exactly as it had been on the two previous tours, so Ford knew what to expect, which was more than could be said for Brody.
Growing more and more frustrated, the newly promoted Lieutenant Commander had clearly underestimated what a long and arduous process loading the boat could be. Arriving in dramatic style during the shakedown tour a year ago, Brody had been spared all the launch prep – a fact he was ever more grateful for.
"It's a big boat, Jim. That's a lot of people and a lot of equipment to get to the right places," Ford teased.
"Yeah, but you'd think they'd have got the hang of it by now," Brody retorted.
"Give them a chance – there's more military this tour, and about a third of them are nuggets – this is new to them."
"Don't remind me," Brody groaned, not relishing the thought of training up sea-babies. "Hey!" he shouted to two junior Lieutenants who were carrying a crate upside down. "Read the labels!!! Pay attention to what you're doing!"
Ford smiled in amusement. "Not all of us were born in a uniform, Commander. The rest of us had to work our way up."
"Funny. What are the final numbers anyway?"
"I'm not sure yet, but it looks to be roughly…" he skimmed through the pages of his crew manifest. "…122 navy, 93 science."
Brody issued a low whistle, surprised at the figures. "That's a pretty big shift."
"Yeah, and the Captain isn't happy about it."
"What's the big deal? After what happened it's a much more unstable world out there. The UEO needs a heavier military presence to maintain peace."
On the surface he had to show neutrality, but privately Ford agreed. It seemed far more important to show strength at this time and ensure faith in the UEO was maintained. "This is the Captain's boat, and it was designed to be a research and exploration vessel – that's always been its' mandate."
"I understand that, but in a war there's no time to think about science."
"I'm inclined to agree," Ford spoke quietly, "but thankfully we're not at that stage yet."
They both turned their attention to the intercom as O'Neill's voice played through the boat. "Pass the word to Commander Ford, XO to the bridge, XO to the bridge."
"You can take over here, right?" Ford smiled, taking his copy of the paperwork and handing the clipboard to Brody.
"Hey, wait one second!" Brody shouted as Ford began to walk away.
Ford turned, eyebrow raised, waiting suspiciously to hear what he had to say. "Yes, Commander?"
"Isn't this, technically, the Commander's job?"
"I thought you wanted more responsibility."
"Well yeah, but…"
"But…?"
"This isn't exactly what I had in mind."
"No?" Ford smiled, and turned away, more than happy to be passing the buck on this occasion.
"This sucks!" Brody muttered behind him.
"I'm sorry, Sir?" a nearby seaman asked.
Not realising his exclamation had gone further than the range of his own hearing; he jumped to cover his tracks. "I said go topside and check these off in the trucks." He shook his head and groaned inwardly in annoyance. He wanted to get on with things – not fanny about with this. It was going to be a long morning.
***
With his attention on the crew and supply manifests, Ford had little chance of avoiding the young Ensign who suddenly appeared in his path. Both stumbled backward, reeling from the collision.
The Ensign brushed herself down and repositioned her duffle on her back. "I'm so sorry," she muttered, her hand hanging low.
"You know we have speed restrictions on these decks," Ford joked.
"Commander!" she exclaimed, realising she was addressing one of her most superior officers. "I was on my way to my bunk assignment and I got turned around – it just all looks the same," she stumbled, apologetically.
"Calm down, sailor," he reassured, looking her up and down. There were so many new personnel that he hadn't been able to memorise all their faces and names, but this one was a new recruit for sure. Short, and with dark hair tied tightly out of the way, she didn't look far out of her early twenties. "First tour?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir."
"Name and rank?"
"Beddard, Sir. Ensign Rosa Kennedy Beddard."
"That's quite a mouthful," he joked, trying to set her at ease. "Good to have you onboard, Ensign. Carry on."
"Thank you, Sir," she sighed, her shoulders slumping as she walked away, with both relief and the effort of carrying her duffle.
"She's pretty," a familiar voice spoke behind him, stopping him in his tracks and causing an unwelcome surge of adrenaline.
He turned and feigned a stern expression. "While on this boat, my observation skills are not used to appraise young women under my command."
"Is that right?" she teased.
"Jealous, Henderson?"
"What would I have to be jealous of?"
"That some nuggets know how to make a good impression? But then that's not hard compared to your bumbling attempt last year," he teased.
"Thanks, Commander," she retorted, lips pursed.
He cleared his throat and pulled himself upright in an attempt to infuse the situation with some professionalism. "It's good to see you back on your feet, Ensign."
"Thank you, Sir," she replied, formally. "How's the boat coming? All present and correct?"
"I'm not sure yet," he admitted. "With all the cutbacks in science personnel, I still don't have a definite crew manifest." He looked around, feeling uneasy about talking idly with her in such a manner. "You all settled in?"
"Yeah," she responded, causing him to raise his eyebrows in dissatisfaction. "Yes, Sir," she corrected.
"Good, then you can go help Brody in the launch bay." He smiled as he caught a flicker of derision before she walked away, leaving him to carry on to the bridge.
***
"I thought we got this working," O'Neill moaned, staring vacantly at one of the several blank computer screens on the bridge.
"We did," Ortiz remarked. "The programming must have got fried or something."
"But how are we meant to fix it if we can't even access the mainframe?"
"Have you tried switching the server?"
"Yes!" he exclaimed. "Twice; we're completely locked out."
"Maybe we should reboot the whole system."
"Miguel, the whole boat is networked – it would take hours to get everything operational again, and we're launching at 1300." Rapidly running out of patience, he turned his attention back to his station and tried the same sequence of keystrokes that had already failed five times before.
"Tell me more about your vacation," Ortiz began, in an effort to distract him. "Was this place big?"
"What, the art school? No – there were only five others in my class, so it was good. I got a lot out of it."
"Will we get to see any of it?"
O'Neill smiled, knowing that Miguel wasn't in the least bit interested in art, but only in teasing him about his effort. Even if the teasing was only in fun, Tim comforted himself with the knowledge that his attempt at art was probably better than any attempt Miguel would have made. "No, my parents have most of it."
"Did you, uh, make any friends?"
"Miguel, just say what you mean, 'cause it's pretty obvious."
"You know," he shrugged innocently. "Lady friends."
"No," O'Neill answered bluntly, with somewhat more regret than he had intended. He cleared his throat and jumped at the opportunity to change the subject away from himself. "Speaking of lady friends though, how's yours?"
"Yeah, good I think. She was on her way back from Vancouver yesterday so I didn't get to see her."
"She's not joining the tour?"
Ortiz sighed, betraying his feelings on the matter. Despite being back on the boat and feeling focused for the first time since the last tour ended, his mind was still distracted by the constant awareness that there was so much uncertainty about the future. The future had always been uncertain – that was something they'd all been trained to accept and deal with. But now it was more; it felt fragile and unstable – like all their carefully laid foundations were ready to collapse beneath them. It was a feeling that rippled throughout the boat as the crew realised their world was on the brink of change, and they would be at the forefront of it.
"I don't know – I don't even think she knows," he answered coldly.
His reluctance to talk came as a surprise to O'Neill, who had always known Miguel as an openhearted individual, ready with a joke and piece of friendly advice for anyone who asked. It just proved to him that Miguel, like everyone else aboard, was still in the process of recovering after the attack on UEO Headquarters two months previously. However harrowing those memories were though, it was good to be back among people who had shared those experiences.
"Any luck?" Ortiz asked.
"No! What the hell is wrong with this thing?"
"Having problems, gentlemen?" Ford asked as he strode across the bridge towards them.
"Yes, Sir," O'Neill answered.
"What have we got?"
"It's what we haven't got, Sir. The terminals on the bridge are completely locked up. The system isn't recognising any of our pass codes – it's like the programming has been altered."
"Is the problem isolated to the bridge?"
"As far as we're aware," Ortiz nodded. "There haven't been reports of any malfunctions from other parts of the boat."
"And you haven't installed any new software?"
"Not since yesterday – but that was working fine," O'Neill assured him – attempting to reassure himself in the process. He and Ortiz had been so stringent. They all knew how important it was to have all the systems working perfectly.
"No, but I did," a young voice spoke behind them.
Collectively they turned to find Lucas approaching them tentatively, aware that he was bound to be on the wrong side of their good humour. His slouched posture and hands shoved in his trouser pockets were in contrast to the smart new crisp polyester shirt he was modelling. It made a change from his usual plaid – a good change – one that complimented his ever-growing maturity and position in the crew.
"Mr Wolenczak," Ford greeted him solemnly. "Want to tell me what's going on here?"
Ortiz and O'Neill also turned their gaze toward him, instantly making him shrink in on himself. At twenty years old he should have been able to hold his own by now, but among such dominating characters he still felt like the sixteen year old kid that used to get in everyone's way, and that only made him angry. They had no right to make him feel that way anymore. "With all due respect, Commander, I was just doing my job," he defended.
"And what job would that be?"
"I was asked, personally, to upgrade the security protocols on all bridge terminals that allow mainframe access."
"By who?" Ford asked, surprised. He wasn't aware of any such order being given.
"McGath."
The three sailors all exchanged confused glances, all wondering why such a request be carried out without their knowledge.
"What for?" O'Neill asked.
Lucas held up his hands in defence. "I know as much as you guys – I just did the job."
"Apparently not very well," Ortiz scoffed. "Now we can't access anything."
"Upgrading security is one thing, but making the system unusable is another – can you fix it?" Ford asked, bluntly.
"Yeah," Lucas answered, confidently. The fact they even had to ask was embarrassing – of course he could fix it.
"Before we make sail?"
"Yes, Commander," he repeated, and sidestepped the man to sit next to O'Neill.
Ford and Ortiz both raised their eyebrows in amusement and walked slightly further away to give them space.
The Chief stood silently, his mouth clamped shut in a stubborn effort not to let a question escape it. He watched as Ford checked over his papers and took one last look back at the two men, before turning to leave.
"Uh," Ortiz began, taking two large strides to catch up to him.
"Everything alright, Chief?"
"Any word?" he asked. There he'd said it. He'd sworn to himself that he wasn't going to; he'd asked once already, but he just had to know.
The need for more definite information on the status of the crew was something Ford could identify with. By now, all crew should have been checked in topside, but there were still three unconfirmed science crew, and no amount of harassing high command could get him any answers. "Nothing. Not even our new science chief knows anything about it. It's a joke! How we're meant to get the boat ready for operation when we don't know who's meant to be onboard is beyond me."
"Thanks for trying. How you doing, anyway? How's the family?"
"Good, yeah; Ben's making a great job of the business. He's got everything running so smooth Dad doesn't know what to do with himself."
Ortiz chuckled. "He must be proud though."
"Oh yeah. I think he's enjoying taking a backseat. Listen, I've got to get these to the Captain – I'll let you know if I hear anything."
"You need any help in the launch bay?"
"No, you stay here and get this sorted. I think Brody can handle the launch bay," he smiled mischievously.
***
"I told you to move those crates to B-Deck fifteen minutes ago!" Brody shouted, exasperated at having to keep track of the movements of so many people and objects.
"Sorry, Sir."
"Don't be sorry, just do it! I shouldn't need to repeat orders. Alright, listen up. Enlisted group C, Ensign Henderson will show you to your bunk assignments. Here," he said, passing the list of bunks to Henderson as she tried to round them all up. Another batch of crew were making their way up through the hatch behind him, so he walked up the stairs to greet them and tick them off his list.
"Oh, I'm not on that list, Lieutenant," a familiar voice tinkled, as a particularly large duffle was planted at his feet, followed by another large case.
"Only one duffle per sailor," he joked. "And it's, Commander, now actually," he grinned.
"Is that right?" Beth grinned back. "And when the hell did that happen?"
"About a week back."
"What happened, they lower the pass mark?"
"Funny," he grimaced, giving her a playful nudge. "When did your position get approved?"
"This morning," she groaned, picking up her bags and moving out of the way of the sailors who were eager to get to their assigned rooms. "They obviously didn't tell you anything."
"No," he agreed, motioning for her to follow him back down the stairs. "You'd better find Ford or the Captain and let them know. You got all the paperwork?"
"Yeah," she nodded, breathless from heaving her cases up the ladder. "Any idea where I can find them?"
"Last I heard, the Captain was showing the new science chief around one of the labs on seadeck."
"Who is it?" she asked.
Although he knew she was eager to know who she'd be working with for the rest of the tour, at that point Brody was too busy focusing on his job to pander to her questions. "I don't know," he said, waving her off.
"Jim," she said more sternly, knowing that he was lying, but he kept his silence. "Fine," she growled, and pulled her bags through the quickly developing mass of crew to the exit.
He watched her go with a pang of regret. It hadn't exactly been the friendliest of reunions, but he just had too much to be getting on with. It was a fact she was going to have to get used to onboard.
"Uh, excuse me?"
Brody turned sharply to face an overdressed, middle-aged man – clearly not military. "Can I help you, Sir?"
"Yeah, I'm Doctor Richmond Fields, your new psychoanalyst."
"A shrink?" Brody instantly replied, screwing up his nose in disgust.
"I'm not fond of the term, but yeah, shrink," he mocked. "I believe my position was only recently approved. Could you let the Captain know that my colleague, Doctor Matlock, won't be joining us?"
"With all due respect, Sir, you'd be better telling him yourself." He looked desperately around, hoping she hadn't got too far. "Beth!!!" he shouted. Thankfully she heard him through the rabble and turned to squint at him, questioningly, before marching back through the throng, looking somewhat displeased.
"What?" she asked.
"This is Doctor Richmond Fields, the new ship's counsellor," he informed her, with a little more sarcasm than was necessary.
She immediately shot him a wide-eyed stare. 'You can't be serious!' she said to him, silently, mind-to-mind.
He cleared his throat, shifting the effect of the telepathy from his mind and refocusing on the man in front of them. Beth still stood aghast at the new development, and it took a shove for her to remember her manners.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, dropping her cases to the deck. "Sorry, Beth Allen, pleased to meet you. I just didn't expect a, uh, um…"
"Shrink?" Doctor Fields teased.
Beth swallowed, embarrassed, and smiled nervously. "I'm on my way to find the Captain if you'd like to come with me?"
"Yes, thank you. Thank you, uh…"
"Brody, Lieutenant Commander Jim Brody." He shook the other man's hand warily, not sure yet what to make of him, and watched as Beth led him away. He laughed as Beth turned her head to mock him. 'Lieutenant Commander Jim Brody,' she mouthed, giving Doctor Fields a pleasant smile as he caught her antics.
***
She gazed at all the equipment. It wasn't anything new – nothing she hadn't seen before. But somehow a few months ago she hadn't been able to really see it; it had just been there in the background. Now it was real, and it was hers.
"It's a lot more advanced than what you were used to, but then you already know that," Nathan told her.
"Yes, I did get to experience a few things during my brief visit," she retorted. "More than I would have liked."
"That's all behind us now, Kristin – the crew are looking to us to move forward. That's the main reason I recommended you for this."
"The main reason?" she choked. "Come on, Nathan. You need me – you may as well admit it," she teased, causing him to chuckle despite himself.
It was good to know she was still in there somewhere, underneath all the timidity. Being back on the boat in a professional capacity had surprisingly un-nerved her – something he wasn't used to seeing.
Right on cue they were joined by a welcome visitor. Breaking the surface with a 'whoosh,' Darwin exuberantly paddled over to where they stood.
"Hello, Bridger," he greeted.
"Well, look who decided to put in an appearance," Nathan joked, rubbing his rostrum affectionately. "I bet you're ready to get going, huh?"
"Open water," he agreed.
Kristin chuckled watching the exchange. Darwin had spent the summer at Malcolm's facility enjoying the company of his dolphins, but had been more than happy to return to the confines of the seaQuest and the companionship of his human friend. "It's good to see a familiar face," she commented.
"A friendly one too," Nathan smiled and turned to look at her, but she'd already left his side, pacing restlessly around the lab once more. "Feels strange doesn't it?" he asked, attempting to coax some of her feelings from her.
"All my things feel very antiquated. I feel very antiquated."
"You're not antiquated."
"As long as my staff don't start thinking it," she sighed, concerned.
"Intimidate them, it worked with the last bunch." He smiled as she shot him a dirty glance.
"With the last bunch we were all in it together – it was new for everyone. I just don't feel like I have the authority to be Chief anymore," she admitted.
"Kristin," he chided, walking over to place his hands on her arms. "You have enough authority to make Ford quiver in his boots." A smile was all he wanted, and a smile he got – a small one, but a smile nonetheless.
"Speak of the devil," she spoke under her breath, pulling away from him and nodding towards the door where the Commander had just appeared.
"Sorry, Captain, Doctor," he said, awkwardly, reluctant to move any closer; perfectly aware that he'd just interrupted a private moment.
"That's alright," he reassured, and motioned for him to join them.
"I have initial reports from all sections, Sir."
"Good – how's everything coming?" Nathan asked, taking the paperwork from him and examining the pages. Many Captain's would criticise him for using such an outdated method of record keeping, but on his boat he insisted hard copies of all important files were maintained for use in the event of computer failure. Even Lucas turned his nose up at the amount of paper lying around.
"Everything's running to schedule. I left the 'Lieutenant Commander' in charge of the launch bay," he added, sarcastically."
Nathan and Kristin exchanged an amused glance. Throughout the previous tour there had been an almost constant competitive rivalry between Ford and Brody, but Ford had always had his rank to fall back on, and now Brody was catching up it was clear he wasn't best pleased.
"Now, now, Jonathan," Nathan chided. "Brody's worked hard – had a good career – he deserves the promotion."
"Aye, Sir," Ford nodded, smiling. Despite the rivalry, he was still pleased for his friend. "We're having a few computer problems on the bridge."
"What kind of problems?"
"It seems Lucas was asked by McGath to install new security protocols – only they're working too well – no one can access the mainframe via the bridge. Were you aware of the upgrade, Sir?"
"I was made aware of it. What's being done about it?"
"I've got Lucas working on it with O'Neill and Ortiz."
"Let's just hope it'll be ready in time to launch," Nathan commented.
"Lucas assured me it would."
"That poor boy. He's only been onboard five minutes," Kristin added, pitying Lucas for being under Ford's scrutiny – she knew how it felt.
"Not so much the boy anymore, Kristin," Nathan corrected.
"He is in my eyes."
"I think he did a lot of growing up over the summer."
"I think we all did," Jonathan agreed.
***
Their tense, raised voices were audible from several metres back along the deck. Miss Allen had slowed her pace, tentatively approaching the door to the lab.
"That still hasn't been resolved?" A male voice asked.
"That's ridiculous! Surely they're not going to leave me without an assistant?" another voice, female this time, balked, outraged at whatever had just been said. Richmond hadn't thought it precisely the best time to announce their presence but Miss Allen clearly had other ideas.
"Not if I have anything to do with it," she said, stepping into the room. All three figures turned their heads to meet her tentative smile. "Room for one more?" she asked, setting down her bags and walking briskly towards them.
"I'm not sure – we're pretty full this tour," one of the men teased.
"Oh!" the woman cried, batting her hand at the men, "you're small – you'll fit," she insisted, moving forward to encompass Miss Allen in her arms. "What a relief – how are you?"
How fascinating it was to be able to stand in the room with these people, virtually invisible, as they displayed their honest thoughts and emotions to each other. A moment seemed to pass between the two women, with Miss Allen looking at her older colleague indecisively, perhaps wondering how much to divulge.
"Getting there," she admitted eventually, with a thin smile.
"Lucas has been raving about his summer up north with you – how is Joshua?" the woman asked her. By now Richmond had decided this must be the infamous Kristin Westphalen, chief of the science staff.
"Good – he's doing amazing work up there – really made a name for himself," she replied. "Captain, Commander," she added, turning to greet them formally with a handshake. Ah, so these two were Bridger and Ford. And while the women had been reconnecting, their attention had wandered to the stranger in the room. His presence was no longer going unnoticed. Seeing their inquisitive looks, Miss Allen jumped in to introduce him. "Sorry, this is Doctor Richmond Fields – he will be joining us as the boat's counsellor."
The silence that greeted him mirrored the reaction both Miss Allen and Brody had given short ago. He was growing tired of the obvious aversion to his presence. "I'm getting the distinct impression that no one around here is fond of psycho-analysts," he spoke, his distinct Texan drawl showing through.
"Apologies, Doctor, I'm Captain Bridger and this is my XO, Jonathan Ford. I'm afraid your presence here hadn't been confirmed."
"No, I gathered that," he smiled thinly. "I'm assuming also then that you haven't been told that my colleague, Doctor Matlock, won't be joining us."
"Well, that accounts for the three missing personnel – looks like we've got a full house, Captain," Ford confirmed, checking and adding the various names to his list.
"Excellent, now we just need to get the bridge back online."
While the two officers once again involved themselves in discussing the particulars of any outstanding preparations, Richmond, Westphalen and Miss Allen were left to endure the momentary unsure silence that inevitably arises among strangers. As was to be expected, Westphalen was the first to attempt any kind of conversation.
"Is this the first time you've been stationed at sea, Doctor?" she asked, politely.
"No, actually," he corrected. "I specialise in performing psycho-analyses on people employed in difficult work environments, so I've done a lot of work with the military, mining colonies – that kind of thing." He watched as she and Miss Allen nodded politely at his response. There was a lot of wariness about this crew. At least it would make his stay more interesting. He understood from the Commanders' references that he, Doctor Matlock and Miss Allen were the three missing personnel in question. It was unusual for the UEO to leave crew confirmations so late – especially for such a large vessel. He knew his own reasons, and that of his colleague – they had been waiting to hear from other contracts, but he was intrigued to find out why Miss Allen's position had been delayed. "So what excuse did the UEO give for keeping you hanging on so long, Miss Allen?" he asked, bluntly.
"Uh, I, um," she stuttered, looking nervously over at the Commander for help. "With everything that's been going on they didn't know how many science personnel they would be hiring this tour…I guess," she smiled.
"Yes, it's going to be a challenge," Richmond commented. "I know there are some who believe that, given the current climate, seaQuest should be given over completely to military purposes." He knew this was something Nathan Bridger was likely to be completely opposed to, but was still keen to gauge their thoughts and reactions on the matter. Bridger had been eyeing him carefully throughout the conversation with his XO, his emotions well-guarded, but now his frustration was all too visible. Clearly sensing this also, his Commander came to the rescue.
"Uh, Doctor Fields, have you been given a tour of the boat?" he asked.
"No," he answered, shaking his head.
"In that case why don't you come with us to the bridge, we can show you around on the way."
"Sounds great," Richmond agreed. "What about our bags?"
"Leave them here, I'll get them transported to your rooms," Ford assured.
"Alright then," he smiled enthusiastically in an attempt to set them at ease, setting his bag down next to Miss Allen's and following them along the deck.
***
As the party left the lab, Jonathan slowed his pace and pulled Beth behind to speak with her quietly. "Do you have your paperwork?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure," she nodded pulling it out of the bag, she still had slung round her body, for Ford to look over.
"I guess Section 7 finally gave you the all clear, huh?" he teased, prompting a dirty glance and a wry smile. They were both well aware that was the reason her position had taken so long to be approved.
"Yeah, but I could hardly tell him that could I?" she muttered.
"So what do you think of him?"
She looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. "I don't know. I don't really think anything…yet."
"Oh come on," he laughed.
"What? So I don't like the idea of him being here – that's allowed isn't it? You can't tell me you're happy that the UEO has sent some stranger to keep tabs on our mental well being?" His rolling eyes clearly confirmed it. "I didn't think so. Besides, Kristin seems to like him."
"What?" Jonathan looked ahead at the three of them talking and laughing politely at each other's comments.
"Yeah, he's got that rugged charm thing going on." She laughed as he eyed her with scepticism. "Tallish, looks after himself, dark hair – thinning but not overly so, casual appearance, well defined facial features…yup, I reckon he'll attract some attention around here. She had a definite twinkle in her eye."
If there hadn't been the slightest edge of sarcasm in her description she'd have convinced him completely. Instead they simply looked at each other and smiled cheekily. "The Captain's gonna love that," he joked, laughing once more as she batted him with her arm and continued on towards the bridge.
***
"Well, well, if it isn't Abbott and Costello," Brody laughed as Piccolo, closely followed by Dagwood sauntered into the launch bay to report for duty.
"Hi Jim!" Dagwood called, happily.
"Give me a break, Commander," Piccolo drawled, "he's been permanently attached to me ever since we got back."
"Tony, you took him to see your family – what do you expect?"
"I dunno – a little personal space from time to time. What have you got for us?"
"Not much actually, Seaman," Brody smiled, smugly. After a rocky start, he'd managed to run a smooth operation. All the crew had been logged in and sent to their assigned bunks and stations, "All I got left are those supplies to take to the galley and the lounge."
"All right," Piccolo announced, clapping his hands together and bending down to pick up the biggest container. Brody and Dagwood watched as he struggled this way and that to get a good grasp, groaning and cursing as he tried to lift it.
"Tony, it's too big for you," Dagwood pointed out.
"I got it, Dag," he insisted, his voice strained and his cheeks turning a redder shade of crimson.
"You'll get hurt, Tony," Dagwood said, brushing him aside and grasping the container easily, before lifting it over his shoulder and hefting it out of the launch bay.
"Jeez, when's that guy gonna stop showing me up? We meet a bunch of chicks on the beach and they're too busy cooin' over him to notice yours truly!"
Brody simply laughed, and pointed out the smaller boxes destined for the lounge. "I'd actually prefer it if you took care of those – there's some sensitive equipment in there."
"Yeah? Like what?" he asked, opening one of the boxes for a closer look. "Since when do movie discs count as sensitive equipment?"
"Since we're stuck on a sub for 13 months without any good looking science personnel."
"That's not even funny," Piccolo announced, pointing his finger at Brody. "I'll sort these out – they're in good hands," he assured him.
"Yeah, I'll bet," Brody muttered, waiting for the inevitable.
"Hey! Watch what you're doin'!!!!" Piccolo's recognisable drawl echoed through the corridor as he crashed into another sailor.
A quick glance around the launch bay confirmed that there were no more personnel to be shown where to go, or equipment to be logged in. Everything had gone better than he expected. "Commander Ford," he spoke through his PAL, "all personnel and supplies are checked in, I'm about to begin a preliminary check with all section chiefs."
"Understood, Commander. Good work," Ford spoke back.
"What else did you expect? Brody out."
***
"That's it – you're back in business," Lucas announced proudly.
Behind him, O'Neill and Ortiz suddenly sat upright, having stopped paying attention a good while ago, and leaned closer to the computer screen.
"So what was the problem?" O'Neill asked.
"Well, getting back into the mainframe was the biggest issue – once I was in there I just had to re-establish the link between the new protocols and the file containing the access codes."
"It just lost the link?" Ortiz asked, incredulously. It was amazing the turmoil that could be caused by one fried link in a program.
"Yeah. See, try it out." Lucas moved over to let O'Neill into the terminal and watched as he typed his user ID and pass code. He was filled with a glow of smug satisfaction as the screen blazed into life and granted him access to the seaQuest's mainframe. It was also with pleasure that he realised if it weren't for him, the boat probably wouldn't be launching on time.
"That's great, Lucas, thanks," Ortiz smiled, patting him on the shoulder.
"No problem," he sighed. "Someone should probably tell the Commander that the system is back online," he suggested.
"That won't be necessary," Bridger barked, as he led his party onto the bridge.
Ortiz turned and was dealt an emotional blow that knocked him off balance. Tim smiled as he watched his friend grapple with the seat he'd become entangled in and a goofy smile appear on his face. He quickly shot out his arm and smacked him across the back, reminding him to stand to attention for the Captain. Ortiz glanced across at him and nodded gratefully, standing upright, but not taking his eyes off Beth for one second.
Ford simply shook his head and grinned at the pair of them, as did Kristin, who cleared her throat and nudged Beth to remind her there were more than just the two of them in the room.
"As you were," Bridger ordered, walking away from them to inspect his bridge. "Well, how's my boat, gentlemen?"
"Ready and waiting for action, Sir," O'Neill informed him, proudly. The simple statement was enough to rev up the familiar excitement they always felt before putting out to sea. It wouldn't be long now – not long before they were back out there.
"Right answer," Bridger joked. "Doctor Fields, I'd like you to meet some more of my crew. This is Lieutenant Tim O'Neill – our communications officer, Senior Chief Petty Officer Miguel Ortiz – our sensor specialist, and Lucas Wolenczak – our computer analyst."
All three men moved forward to greet him politely, all the while wondering just who it was they were being introduced to.
"Gentlemen, this is Doctor Richmond Fields, he'll be stationed onboard for the first four months of the tour as our new counsellor," Bridger informed them.
Those who were already aware of his role waited for the reaction of the others. O'Neill and Ortiz shot their heads towards each other in an expression that clearly read, 'is he serious?' While Lucas, in an unexpected move, merely smiled and said, "Well, I'm sure after recent events we could all use someone to talk to. At least I could anyway," he sighed, looking up at all the bewildered faces.
"Thank you, Lucas," Richmond smiled warmly.
"Yes, well," Nathan interjected, "I think it's about time we got this boat ready to set sail, wouldn't you, Commander?"
"I'd say so, Sir."
"Gather all the section heads for a meeting in the wardroom in thirty minutes. I'll be in my quarters."
"Aye, Sir. Mr O'Neill, put out the call, please," Ford ordered.
"Doctor Fields, have you been shown to your room?" Lucas asked.
"No, I've barely had time to set my feet together – if you're offering, a guide would be great."
"Sure," he smiled.
"And thank you…for the welcome," Richmond added.
***
He'd lost count of the number of times he'd done this – addressed his crew before launch; given them a poignant message – a piece of inspiration. He'd done it so many times he'd even started recycling his old lines.
Times like these were difficult though. "I'm sure you all know how the world stands," Nathan spoke, solemnly. He wished he could do more for them than simply recite facts, but, truthfully, he was just as unsure as they were about how the global situation could pan out. At least he had his experience to draw on – that much he could pass onto them, because that's what they were in need of – a leader; someone to lead them forward and teach them how to cope with whatever lay waiting for them.
"It's so easy to forget that not long ago we were all at war; that we're still recovering from it. The unease and blame that had begun to be buried has been exposed by this attack, and we're all looking to each other to see what move the other player is going to make." He paused to take in their faces. Lucas and Kristin looked up at him intently while Ford and Brody watched with admiration – perhaps taking notes for what they'd say to their own crew someday. But right now they were still part of his crew, and he was immensely proud of them all. It was going to be a tough year, but he had every faith that they'd see each other through.
"The UEO was formed to maintain peace among aligned nations, and as ambassadors for that organisation, it is up to us to provide an example of unity, and of peaceful compromise. To the global community, this vessel is a symbol of hope, and it is our job to live up to that. It isn't going to be easy – that much is certain, which is why we all need to band together as a unit, because once we start letting each other down – that's when we start letting the world down."
There was still silence in the room a moment later, but no time for reflection Nathan decided. "Commander – put out the call to the crew – I think it's time we let the old girl stretch her legs."
"Aye, aye, Sir," Ford smiled, activating his PAL and sending the rallying call throughout the boat. "All hands report to your stations, seal all hatches and watertight doors, secure your equipment; prepare the boat for launch. Mr Brody – prepare the boat for sea."
"Aye, Sir," Brody saluted, smiling broadly.
At the head of the table, Nathan too managed a brief grin, catching the sudden enthusiasm of his crew. 'I haven't lost my touch after all,' he thought.