Standard Fanfic Disclaimer that wouldn't last ten seconds in a court of law: these aren't my characters. I'm just borrowing them for a writing exercise. This story was originally published in the recycling 'zine, A Small Circle of Friends #15, from Neon RainBow Press. The goal of Small Circle was to take the plot and/or setting from one TV show or movie, and recycle it, using the characters and/or setting from a different TV show or movie.

Inmate 79

a seaQuest story loosely based on the Magnificent Seven episode "Inmate 78"

rewritten by Susan M. M.

for Lyn in Australia and Alison in New England, both Ben Krieg fans

17: 20, Wednesday, November 14, 2018, Las Ballenas Base

Ben Krieg drank his beer. It was good to be off the boat and out of uniform. Hard to call it "shore leave" when he was in an underwater colony, hundreds of meters below the surface, but at least he was off the sub for a few days. Not that the dark-haired lieutenant didn't love being stationed on seaQuest - she was the flower of the fleet, a star amongst submarines - but it was nice to be off-duty.

The bar was nearly empty. Two men at a corner table, playing cards. Another man at the end of the bar, nursing a drink. A barmaid, who looked about Dr. Westphalen's age, but not half so well-preserved as the seaQuest's Chief Science Officer, nor a third as attractive. A short man approached the pair playing cards; Krieg ignored him. He glanced at the man in the corner of the bar. He'd caught the man eying him twice. The fellow was about Krieg's age and size, in his thirties, with dark brown skin, but not African-American. He wore a rumpled gray uniform. Krieg suppressed a shudder. From the way the man was looking at him, Krieg had the sensation that the man was undressing him with his eyes.

The short man left the cardplayers and sidled up to Krieg. "Sir, may I interest you in a quality timepiece? Resistant to water, resistant to pressure, to – "

"Sorry, I already have a watch." Krieg took another sip of beer.

"Perhaps a present for a friend. Christmas isn't all that far off. I have a lovely selection of ladies' watches," he persisted.

Krieg shook his head. "Not interested."

"Ah, but my prices are very reasonable. Too low to resist – "

The man in gray was observing both of them now, and again, Krieg couldn't avoid the feeling that he was mentally stripping them.

"Look, pal, what part of 'no' wasn't in English?" Krieg interrupted him.

"These two causing trouble, Jessie?" The dark-skinned man who'd been nursing a drink in the corner stepped forward.

The barmaid nodded. "Sure are, Chan."

"Causing a public disturbance." Chan strode closer to Krieg and the watch salesman. He wore a tarnished badge. "Stolen merchandise, I don't doubt." He looked from the watches to Krieg, his beer mug still in his hand. "Drunk and disorderly. You're both under arrest."

"Look, Officer Chandraputra," Krieg read the nametag, sounding it out carefully, "I am neither drunk nor disorderly. I've only had half a mug of beer. You can test my blood alcohol level: I'm as sober as a judge. And other than raising my voice a trifle, I haven't been disruptive or disorderly. If I was loud enough to bother the lady," he turned and nodded at the barmaid, "I apologize."

"Resisting arrest." Chan pulled his gun from its holster.

"There must be some mistake, Officer," the watch salesman protested, quivering slightly at the sight of the weapon.

"I'll say there's a mistake. Las Ballenas security staff wear blue uniforms, not gray. You don't work for this base," Krieg said. Suddenly he felt a sting in his left arm, like a giant mosquito bite. He turned and saw Jessie holding an odd looking gun. The last thing Krieg was aware of before he collapsed to the floor was Jessie firing another tranquilizer dart at the watch salesman.

The pair playing cards never looked up from their game.

18:35, Wednesday, November 14, 2018, Cargo Sub Tigress

Krieg came to briefly. He opened his eyes, but everything was out of focus. He felt the vibrations of a sub beneath him, and knew by the feel of the motion that it wasn't seaQuest. Then he closed his eyes and lost consciousness again.

09:02, Thursday, November 15, 2018, Jericho Mining Colony

Krieg groaned. His head hurt, and so did his wrists. He tried to move his arms, but the handcuffs made that next to impossible. He sniffed the air. Recirculated air, but not seaQuest and not Las Ballenas. The scent was different. Metal manacles imprisoned his ankles, with three plastic cords, each about the width of his little finger, connecting his left leg to his right. He could walk, but even if he'd felt less nauseated, he couldn't run.

"Order in the court," a middle-aged man sitting behind a desk demanded. "Does the prisoner have legal counsel?"

"Yes, Your Honor." Chan stood. "He's charged with causing a public disturbance, attempting to buy stolen merchandise, drunk and disorderly behavior, and resisting arrest."

"Those are very serious charges," the judge noted.

Krieg protested, "This man arrested me; it's a conflict of interest for him to even pretend to represent me in court. I want a real lawyer, and I want to contact my boat."

"Counselor, advise your client to hold his tongue," the judge directed.

"Shut up, fool!" Chan ordered.

"Your wants are not of paramount importance here," the judge informed him airily. "However, I could … postpone the trial a month if you were to post a bail of 500 UEO credits. Do you have that money?"

"Not on me, no," Krieg replied sarcastically.

"Then how do you plead?" the judge asked.

"I don't plead. I don't recognize the authority of this court," Krieg told him.

"He pleads guilty," Chan answered for him.

"I do not!" Krieg protested.

The gavel banged. "Order in the court."

"My name is Lt. Ben Krieg. I'm a United States citizen and an officer aboard the UEO vessel seaQuest. You'll let me speak to an attorney or the nearest US consulate, and you'll let me contact my boat, or you'll regret it."

Chan exchanged worried glances with the gray-uniformed bailiff standing next to the judge's desk.

"Threatening a judge. That's contempt of court." The judge brought his gavel down on the desk.

"You better believe I've got a lot of contempt for this kangaroo court," Krieg replied. "Trust me, you do not want to piss off the UEO."

"I do not permit vulgar language in my courtroom; that's a second charge of contempt of court. By the authority vested in me, I sentence you to five years hard labor. And because of the two charges of contempt of court, no chance of parole." He brought the gavel down, hard. "Bring in the next case."

"What authority? Vested in you by whom?" Krieg demanded. "I was arrested – abducted – on Las Ballenas, but he isn't L. B. security and we're not even on L. B."

"Get him out of my courtroom."

It took Chan and the bailiff to drag Krieg from the room, struggling every centimeter of the way, despite the handcuffs and the ankle-manacles.

"Krieg, Benjamin F. Lieutenant, UEO Navy. Serial number 987-35-2187," he called out.

A few minutes later, the bailiff returned and whispered to the judge. "Getting into trouble with the UEO might be biting off more than we can chew. Maybe we should just kill him and hide the body."

The judge scoffed. "We have killed him. We just won't be burying him for a year or two."

"Yeah, but seaQuest? She's supposed to be tough, really tough," the bailiff pointed out.

"If he's telling the truth. Which I doubt. Did that jackass strike you as officer material? Doubt he's even an NCO. His boat will just assume he went AWOL and forget about him. Besides," the judge reminded the bailiff, "nobody's ever escaped from here."

09:33, Thursday, November 15, 2018, Jericho Mining Colony

"Two new ones, Warden," Chan told a middle-aged man who looked enough like the judge to be his brother. Another guard shoved Krieg and the watch salesman forward.

"Rules are simple," the warden announced. "You work, you eat. You don't work, you don't eat. Do your work, never treat a guard disrespectfully, and don't fight with the other inmates. Break any of these rules, and you'll spend time in the cooler."

"Watch the dark-haired one. He's trouble," Chan warned.

"Troublemakers don't last here long. They either learn to behave themselves, or … they just don't last long. I don't know what your names were out there, and I don't care. From now on you're Inmate Seventy-Nine," he told Krieg, "and you're Inmate Eighty," the warden informed the watch salesman.

"Krieg, Benjamin F. Lieutenant, UEO Navy. Serial number 987-35-2187," he recited.

"Your designation is now Inmate Seventy-Nine," the warden repeated.

"Krieg, Benjamin F. Lieutenant, UEO Navy. Serial number 987-35-2187."

"You're right, Chan. He is trouble," the warden agreed. "Take him to the cooler."

12: 15, Thursday, November 15, 2018, seaQuest DSV 4600, Mess Hall

"Hey, you guys seen Ben?" asked Lucas Wolenczak. The sixteen year old computer hacker was the youngest member of the crew of seaQuest.

"Not since yesterday, amigo," replied Chief Sensor Tech Miguel Ortiz.

"As far as I know, he's already on Las Ballenas," added Lt. j. g. Tim O'Neill. "I know he spent his first two days here working on resupplying the boat, so he could spend the rest of his leave time uninterrupted."

"Yeah, but I figured he'd come back to the boat now and again." The blond teenager frowned. "The captain won't let me go to the base unsupervised. I was hoping Ben would go with me."

"And that's different from going unsupervised how?" Ortiz teased.

Lucas scowled, but didn't deny that he'd counted on Krieg giving him a very long leash while visiting Las Ballenas. seaQuest DSV 4600 had been built with both government funds and private donations. Lucas' father had been one of the biggest financial supporters of the experimental submarine, and had used his pull with the UEO to foist his son on the crew, in the hopes of teaching him some discipline. Unfortunately for Lucas' youthful dreams and schemes, the captain took that responsibility seriously.

O'Neill and Ortiz exchanged glances and came to a silent consensus.

"We have to go back on-duty, as soon as we finish lunch. But our shifts will be over at fifteen-hundred, and we were going to go to L. B. then. You can tag along with us," O'Neill offered.

Lucas' blue eyes shone with relief. "Thanks, guys."

*~,*~*~*~*~

10:00, Friday, November 16, 2018, Jericho Mining Colony

Krieg felt the rough stone walls of the pit for the hundredth time. Maybe it was the two hundredth - he hadn't been keeping track. His hands were scraped and bloody from his attempts to climb out. His body was bruised from climbing and falling. He was chilled to the bone; the stone pit was cold and damp. His headache from the tranquilizer dart had faded, to be replaced by a new, equally annoying hunger headache. He hadn't eaten in - how long? Twenty-four hours? Forty-eight? He had no way to judge how long he had been trapped.

"Too bad that old guy with the rat isn't here. I'd eat Arthur raw," Krieg muttered.

"Seventy-Nine!"

Krieg looked up when he heard the shout.

"Ready to come up and do some honest work?"

"Naw, I'm enjoying the break," he yelled back. "It's giving me a chance to catch up on my technical manuals."

"Leave the smart aleck down there for another day. He gets hungry enough, he'll mind his manners," Krieg heard a second voice say.

"Me and my big mouth," Krieg muttered. Swallowing his pride, he called up, "I'm ready to come up."

"Sir," the first voice shouted down.

"I'm ready to come up, sir," Krieg recited dutifully.

A rope ladder was lowered down. Krieg reached for it and began climbing. It was hard going: his muscles were weak. The nylon of the rope ladder irritated his sore hands. And his ankles were still bound by the metal manacles with the three plastic cords between them.

"Krieg, Benjamin F. Lieutenant, UEO Navy. Serial number 987-35-2187," he muttered under his breath. He repeated it over and over again, like a mantra, as he climbed. When he reached the top, the two gray-clad guards grabbed him and pulled him away from the pit. Closing his blue eyes, Krieg took a deep breath. The air here was warmer than the pit, and far less noxious. "Inmate Seventy-Nine reporting for duty ... sir."

One of the guards slapped him. Krieg did his best to roll with the punch. He didn't hit back; he didn't dare. Any defiance would get him thrown back into the cooler, and he already knew he couldn't escape from there. Out here ... he might be able to escape, or at least get a message through to seaQuest.

14:10, Friday, November 16, 2018, seaQuest DSV 4600, Sea Deck

Lucas splashed at the water in the moon pool. There was no answer. He picked up the vocoder and spoke into it. "Darwin. Hey, Darwin."

"He's not on board," Lucas heard a voice say behind him.

The hacker turned and saw Nathan Bridger behind him. The gray-haired, gray-eyed man was both the designer and the captain of seaQuest.

"There's a pod of dolphins nearby. Darwin decided to swim out and make friends," Bridger explained.

"When Darwin goes out swimming, how do you know he'll come back?" Lucas asked.

"I don't."

"But what if he decided to join that pod? What if he doesn't come back?" Lucas asked.

Bridger shrugged. "We take that risk every time he goes out. You ever see the T-shirt that says 'if you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was'?"

Lucas nodded. "Yeah. I always thought it was stupid."

"A little saccharine, perhaps. I don't know if I'd go as far as stupid. Darwin isn't just my pet or my research subject," Bridger explained, though he had thought of the dolphin that way in the past. "He's my friend. What kind of friend would I be if I kept him locked up against his will?"

"But if he doesn't come back?" Lucas persisted.

"I'd miss him," Bridger confessed. "But it's got to be his decision to stay or go."

"Dr. Hokstad says it's not unusual for dolphins to change pods several times." Lucas glanced up at the captain, waiting for him to confirm or deny what the marine biologist had told him.

Bridger agreed. "She's right. Helps prevent in-breeding. But for the moment, Darwin thinks of seaQuest as his pod. He's always come back so far."

"seaQuest doesn't have any pretty female dolphins. Bet that pod does."

Bridger grinned. "Why do you think Darwin decided to go introduce himself?"

Lucas forced a grin, although he didn't feel it.

"Actually, I'd love for Darwin to bring some friends home with him sometime. I'd like to see how your vocoder works on other dolphins. Dolphin clicks and squeals can be just as idiosyncratic as any human language."

"That would be cool," Lucas agreed. "Might let me increase the lexicon database." He had designed the vocoder, which attempted to translate Darwin's whistles, clicks, and squeals into English. "Um, speaking of females of your own species … some of the hydroponicists and oceanographers on Las Ballenas have families. Some of them have teenagers, and well, there's this arcade where they hang out when they get out of school …."

"And?" Bridger prompted.

"And I'd really like to go back. Except somebody said I couldn't go on the base by myself," Lucas reminded him.

"If you can get someone to go with you, you've got permission to go," Bridger told him.

"Why can't I go by myself?" Lucas asked, not quite whining.

"Because I'm the captain, and I said so." Doing his best to ignore the puppy dog eyes that Lucas was giving him, he suggested, "What about Ensign Moeller? He's not much older than you are."

"Yeah, and that's why he won't have anything to do with me, and insists I call him Ensign Moeller instead of Hans."

Bridger raised an eyebrow in silent query.

"He's the next youngest on the boat. He's afraid if he hangs out with me, everyone will think he's a kid, too," Lucas explained.

Bridger nodded. On most of the boats he'd served on or commanded in his thirty years in the US Navy, there were always seamen fresh out of boot camp, some of them not even shaving yet. But seaQuest, being an experimental prototype, had only the best of UEO's men and women serving aboard. No raw recruits. Many, like Chief Petty Officer Ortiz, had been lured into the UEO from their homeland's fleets by being offered promotions they otherwise wouldn't have received for years. "What about Ben?"

"On shore leave. Haven't seen him in a day or two," Lucas complained.

"Tim?"

"He and Miguel went with me yesterday. I don't wanna be pestering them all the time."

"I've only been on base long enough to make a courtesy call on L. B.'s mayor. Don't suppose you'd want to hang around with an old codger like me?" Bridger offered.

"Any chance you'd drop me off at the arcade and pick me up later?" Lucas asked hopefully.

"No, but I could bring a book and wait for you."

"Um, it gets a little loud."

"Which is why we'd only be staying an hour or so. Dr. Westphalen would skin me alive if I let you wreck your hearing." He smiled at the boy. "After that, I've got a standing invitation to visit the hydroponics labs. We could grab some dinner and do a little sightseeing."

It wasn't what the hacker wanted, but it was probably the best he was going to manage. "Yeah, sure." Then he remembered his manners. Dr. Westphalen was a lot stricter about courtesy than his parents were. "Thanks, Captain."

Bridger reached out to tousle his hair. He realized with a jolt of surprise that Lucas was going to be taller than he was soon. "Any time, Kiddo, any time."

14:10, Friday, November 16, 2018, Jericho Mining Colony

"Don't they ever feed us?" Krieg whispered to Inmate Eighty.

"Twice a day, breakfast and dinner," the watch salesman whispered back.

Krieg hadn't eaten since lunch on Wednesday. He tried to remind himself that he'd been hungrier during SEAL training, but that did nothing to help the emptiness in his belly and the weakness in his muscles now. Besides, he'd washed out of SEAL training halfway through. "Fasting is good for the soul and the waistline." He lifted his pickaxe.

"No talking!" one of the guards yelled.

"Yessir," Krieg muttered, trying to strike a balance between obeying the order and letting the guard know he'd heard it. He'd been in the US Navy before switching over to the UEO; he had no trouble saying sir to men he didn't think deserved it. His job was to escape, and to do that, he had to survive. And his best hope of survival was doing whatever was necessary to avoid being thrown back in the cooler. He lifted the pickaxe and brought it down again, but he couldn't manage to dig hard. He was lucky he managed to dig at all, in his condition. The guards seemed to realize that, and as long as he continued to make a token effort, left him alone.

He'd managed to learn a little from the other prisoners in hastily whispered conversations. They were in an underwater mining colony, digging for tungsten. Safety equipment was non-existent, as were power tools. The prisoners were expected to dig with primitive equipment. There were only twenty-three prisoners. Inmates One through Fifty-Seven had died. Most from overwork and malnutrition, but a few had been killed by the guards. When the workforce got low, they shanghai'd new miners. As far as the others knew, no one had ever escaped, nor lived long enough to finish their sentence and be released.

Krieg lifted the pickaxe again. He had something the other prisoners didn't. He had Nathan Bridger and the seaQuest on his side. Captain Bridger would move Heaven and Hell to protect his crew. Once the captain knew where he was, he'd be rescued. He just had to stay alive until Bridger could find him.

17:15, Friday, November 16, 2018, Las Ballenas Base

Nathan Bridger glanced up from his book to check on Lucas. The boy was scoring an impossibly high score on a videogame, and the local teenagers were surrounding him, some watching him with envy, others cheering him on. Bridger allowed himself a half-smile. It was good for Lucas to be with people his own age. Just because he was a genius didn't mean he should spend all his time with scientists twice his age.

Most people would consider a submariner's life an unnatural one. Spending months at a time beneath the waves, crammed in a tiny space with the same group of people, never seeing new faces, never breathing fresh air or walking on green grass. Nathan Bridger had chosen that life, as had his crew. But Lucas had been forced aboard seaQuest by a father who'd never made time for him, then seemed surprised that the boy had attitude problems. The kid should be up-world, playing baseball, learning how to drive, taking pretty girls to the movies. A visit to a video arcade in L. B. was a poor substitute.

So even though he'd nearly finished rereading Richard Castle's Heat Wave, and even though the lemonade was far too sweet for his taste, Bridger resolved to give Lucas a little more time before suggesting they go to dinner.

18:05, Friday, November 16, 2018, Jericho Mining Colony

Krieg forced himself to eat slowly. He knew if he gobbled his dinner, he'd throw up. It was only potato soup – and not very good soup at that - but after forty-eight hours without eating, it was ambrosia.

If he'd known that Captain Bridger, at that very moment, was eating lasagna and drinking a glass of Chianti, he'd probably have died of jealousy.

"Any chance of seconds?" Krieg whispered.

Inmate Sixty-Four shook his head. "Nope."

"Given the quality of the food, be grateful," another prisoner advised in a whisper.

"What happens after supper?" Krieg asked. He doubted the bedroom accommodations were anything to brag about, but he was too tired to care. It had to be better than the cooler.

"Couple more hours of digging."

"Just jim-dandy," Krieg muttered. "Anybody ever manage to break out of here?"

Sixty-Four shook his head again.

"Any way to get a message to the outside?" Krieg persisted.

"Think we'd be here if there was?" Inmate Seventy-One retorted. "If you can't pay the bail, then the judge tosses you in here and his brother works you to de- " He stopped in mid-word as he saw the guards approaching.

Two gray-uniformed men dragged a short, stocky man into the mess hall. The raven-haired prisoner wore the same orange jumpsuit as Krieg and the others. Like them, his feet were manacled, three half-meter long plastic cords connecting the left ankle-cuff to the right. A door to an inner office opened, and the warden stepped out. Until he closed the door behind him, wonderful odors wafted out of the room: black market Argentinean beef, fresh bread, corn with butter – items that had never been seen in the prisoners' mess hall.

"Why are you interrupting my dinner?" the warden demanded.

"New prisoner, sir," one of the guards replied.

"Well, that explains why my beloved brother wasn't at dinner. Our rules here are simple," the warden told the new prisoner. "Follow them, and you'll have no trouble. Break them, and you'll regret it."

The new man looked at the prisoners eating their dinners. "I ain't eating that slop."

"No, you're not. You haven't earned it yet." The warden looked around, and his eye fell on Krieg. "Inmate Seventy-Nine, tell Inmate Eighty-One what the first rule is."

"Yes, sir. You work, you eat. You don't work, you don't eat." Krieg kept his eyes on the warden as he scraped the last little bit of soup out of his bowl.

"What happens to prisoners who refuse to work, Seventy-Nine?"

"They spend time in the cooler, sir." Krieg kept his voice even. A disrespectful tone might land him back in the cooler.

"Tell him the other rules, Seventy-Nine," the warden ordered.

Krieg thought a moment. "Do your work, respect the guards, and don't fight with the other inmates." He paused just a moment, then added, "Sir."

"And if you break any of these rules?" the warden asked in a coaxing tone.

"You'll spend time in the cooler, sir." Krieg tried not to think about how much he wanted to punch the warden's nose and break it.

"You planning to go back to the cooler, Seventy-Nine?" the warden asked.

Krieg hesitated before answering. If he said 'no, sir,' then the warden might remind him that he was in no position to be making decisions, and send him back to the cooler just to remind him of his place. If he acknowledged that he didn't control whether or not he went back to the cooler, well, that was just more humble pie than he could manage to swallow. "Once was enough, sir."

The warden nodded approvingly. He turned to the new prisoner. "Seventy-Nine was just as feisty as you were, a few days ago. I broke him. I'll break you."

Inmate Eighty-One swallowed uncomfortably. "I want a vidlink call. Maybe – maybe my family could raise the five hundred credits."

"When you address me or any guard in this facility, you use the proper appellation: sir."

"Appell-what?" Eighty-One asked.

One of the guards slapped him. "When you speak to the warden or a guard, you say 'sir'!"

"Just say 'yes, sir'," Krieg mouthed silently, hoping the new prisoner could read lips. "You don't have to mean it, just say it."

Maybe he caught Krieg's silent message, maybe he decided discretion was the better part of valor. "Yes, sir," Inmate Eighty-One muttered.

The warden permitted himself a half-smile. Prisoners in the cooler dug no tungsten. "Breakfast is in twelve hours. Let's hope you do enough work by then to earn it."

The guards waited until the warden went back to his office, then shoved the new man down on the bench next to the other prisoners. The few who had not finished their soup guarded it jealously, lest Inmate Eighty-One try to take it from them, slop or not.

"Krieg, Benjamin F. Lieutenant, UEO Navy. Serial number 987-35-2187," he whispered. "Better known as Inmate Seventy-Nine to my friends. What's your name?"

"Cary Hiroyuki. You're UEO? I thought you guys were supposed to be too tough to break."

"Bent, not broken. I couldn't escape from the cooler. I might be able to escape from here." Krieg thought a moment. He knew he couldn't escape alone, but he also knew in a place like this, there was no honor among thieves. Any of the prisoners might squeal on him if they thought it would bring them rewards from the warden, like extra rations or immunity from the cooler. He decided it was safer not to mention his ace in the hole.

Once his seventy-two hour leave was up, Cmdr. Ford would be looking for him, if only to put him on report for being AWOL. And once they realized that something was wrong, that he wasn't just sleeping off a hangover, then seaQuest would come looking for him. He just had to survive long enough for them to find him.

Many thanks to my beta readers: Caprice, Jeannie, Antoniette, Jenny, Lorraine, and always, Edward