The captain awoke to the sound of Katie's voice as she made contact with seaQuest on final approach. Blinking back the effects of a four-hour nap, he peered out the window to see the shining blue hull that was home.

"As beautiful as ever," Katie remarked when she noticed him stirring.

He couldn't help but smile. "That she is." He'd flown over seaQuest before, but only on his way to catch a shuttle for actual entry. He'd never landed on her from the air.

Nathan pointed out the window at the incredibly tiny helipad. "You can land on that little thing?" He kept his tone light. It was more of a compliment than a doubt.

"Yes, sir, and without a tailhook."

"And probably with half your instruments down too."

She nodded with an air of confidence.

He couldn't help wishing he had something to offer her to come back, but not only did he have to compete with a commercial salary and command of a supertanker, but she had her own helicopter to boot. Even seaQuest herself was probably not enough.

She set Gazelle One down so smoothly that he hardly felt a thing. The gentle sway of the ocean was the only confirmation that they'd landed.

He didn't realize he was staring at her with fatherly pride until she finally said, "What?"

He looked away. "Sorry, I was just thinking how impressed I am with all your accomplishments."

"SeaQuest opened a lot of opportunities for me I know I never would have had otherwise. But I don't forget who helped me get here."

"No, you sure haven't. Thanks." He extended his hand and she accepted it.

They shook for a second, then she leaned in and kissed his cheek and whispered, "You're welcome."

Lt. Brody was waiting at the hatch as they disembarked. He stood tall and saluted. Nathan still wore his civvies, now wrinkled and in sore need of laundering, but he saluted back anyway. "Welcome home, sir," Brody said.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. This is Captain Katherine Hitchcock. She's an honored guest and a good friend. Captain Hitchcock, Lt. Jim Brody."

"Ma'am," Brody said as he took her hand. He turned back to face the captain, urgency now evident in his tone. "You're wanted on the bridge, sir. Admiral Overbeck started hailing us the moment we surfaced."

Nathan's smile faded. "Even when I'm dead, I can't get away from bureaucracy. Will you see to our guest, please, Lieutenant?"

He heard Brody give a positive response to his back as he took off at a jog. In every corridor, people were welcoming him back and cheering him on, but he only had time to wave acknowledgements.

He caught his breath on the mag-lev and surged toward the open clamshell doors with renewed energy. "Captain on the bridge!" met his ears when he barreled through the doorway. Everyone snapped to attention.

Oh, for goodness sake, with me dressed like some bum? He did appreciate it, even if he was a little embarrassed that he hadn't cleaned up. "As you were," he called, making sure there was no hint of annoyance in his tone. He found Ford moving away from the conn. "What have you told him?"

Ford shook his head. "On my orders, Mr. Piccolo informed the admiral that I was 'in the shower.' The admiral suggested that someone go pull me out and get my ass down here on the double to talk to him. Loosely quoted, sir."

"All right. Get behind me and don't say a word, Commander."

"But sir, there's something you should know before—"

Nathan took a step toward covering him with his body. "Not a word. That's an order."

Ford nodded and moved to stand behind him. His voice was calm and gave no hint of further protest when he said, "Aye, sir."

There was no helping how shabby he looked. He didn't bother trying to run his fingers through his hair or straightening his wrinkled chambray shirt. He nodded at Tony. "Put the call on center screen, Mr. Piccolo."

"Aye, sir." Piccolo pressed the buttons, holding his breath like the rest of the bridge crew.

Overbeck's pompous face filled the screen, his cheeks red, presumably from screaming at his staff. "Captain Ford! How dare you…"

The bridge crew gasped at the admiral's use of the rank even as Overbeck's eyes grew wide. Nathan was a little surprised himself. Ford had actually been promoted in the short span of time he'd been presumed dead? There was no time to think about it now. He had to tend to toxic waste removal before anything else.

Nathan drew a deep breath and focused his attention back on the screen. "What's the matter, Admiral? Looks like you've seen a ghost."

The admiral just stood there dumbfounded, shaking his head.

"If you have something to say to my executive officer, you can say it to me."

"N-N-Nathan, uh…you're alive! We all thought…"

"That I was dead? Yes, I imagine you did. Hard to survive when all the pilots drug the passengers, sabotage the flight controls, and then abandon them to crash." A few more hushed gasps sprung up around him.

Overbeck tried to muster his abysmal acting ability to feign pleasure. "But you made it! Thank God!"

"Actually, I'll thank Lt. O'Neill. He's the one who saved all our lives." The gasps from the bridge crew were more pronounced this time and followed by whispers. Nathan had half a mind to launch into a full-blown account of Tim's heroic deeds right then and there, but Overbeck's mere presence would have spoiled it. His crew would hear it later, under more appropriate circumstances.

Just then, the admiral's door burst open. Overbeck backed away, panic-stricken, but he was trapped with nowhere to go. Nathan recognized Noyce and McGath as they crossed into view. Three military police accompanied them. McGath spoke: "Admiral Charles Overbeck, under article eight, section twelve of the UEO charter, I hereby place you under arrest."

The MPs surrounded him and attempted to guide him out the door, but he resisted, shouting, "I didn't have anything to do with this! I want a lawyer. You can't prove anything. Get your hands off me!"

Noyce didn't raise his voice, but his tone was low and menacing. "Come quietly or I'll have you dragged down to the brig in handcuffs. Your choice."

Overbeck made one last indignant push before he surrendered to save his dignity. Too bad, Nathan thought.

McGath's shoulders and head took over the screen. "Good to see you, Captain. When we saw the crash site, we all feared the worst."

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary. I hope that someone will be kind enough to see that Mr. Wolenczak's and Lt. O'Neill's next-of-kin are appropriately notified and apologized to."

"I'll see to it personally."

"And now if you'll forgive me, I think I could use a hot shower." And some flan.

"Of course, Captain."

"Nathan?" Noyce ducked into view. "Colonel Black resisted. We had to shoot him down."

"Casualties?"

"Just Black. Drowned."

Better him than anyone else. "Thanks, Bill. I owe you one."

"Nonsense. Men like Overbeck give all admirals a bad name. I'm covering my own butt this time."

Nathan was glad Bill saw it that way. He wouldn't rub it in by agreeing. "Give my best to Janet."

"Will do. Noyce out."

"SeaQuest out." He nodded to Piccolo to terminate the connection. A collective sigh of relief passed around the bridge. The captain turned to see Hitchcock and Brody standing just inside the main doors.

Ford hurried to explain. "I promised her she could watch Overbeck go down."

Was he apologizing? "As far as I'm concerned, she's welcome anywhere on this boat she wants to go. And besides, Captain, it doesn't appear you needed my consent anyway."

Ford shrugged and sighed. "I suspected the admiral wouldn't get my 'promotion' approved after we were done with him, so I never told the crew. I wanted everyone to operate on the assumption that you were alive and coming back."

"And thanks to all of you, that's exactly what happened." He extended his hand to Jonathan and exchanged a hearty shake.

"You didn't give up on me when our places were reversed. And I have to say, I think I'd rather be in the raft than trying to engineer the impossible rescue."

Nathan chuckled. "Even in a hurricane?"

He nodded. "Even in a hurricane."

Thinking back to when their places were reversed, the captain had to agree. But they'd had enough sentimentality on the bridge for one day. It was time to move on.

He glanced across the room. "Mr. Ortiz, when will you be serving that flan of yours?"

"It's chilling in the galley refrigerator, ready any time."

"Excellent. Captain Hitchcock, as I recall, you said you needed me to pose for a snapshot in order to justify the use of your helicopter. Would you prefer my castaway look or cleaned up?"

She smiled widely. "Definitely the castaway look. Evokes loads of sympathy."

He'd assumed as much, which was why he asked. "All right, then you'd better get your pity pictures now because I'm long overdue for a shower."

She pulled a tiny digital camera from her pocket and handed it to Ford. "Would you, Jonathan?"

He didn't look thrilled at the idea, but he kept his facial expression neutral. Nathan wasn't exactly keen on becoming the poster boy for surviving a plane crash, especially when he had personally done so little toward affecting their survival and rescue. His biggest contribution had been catching a tuna and disposing of the emergency locator beacons, which in retrospect may have actually been counterproductive to their rescue.

But he knew as well as Katie that all the publicity had been focused on the captain of the UEO's flagship and publicity was good for business. He wouldn't hesitate to pose for a little exploitation when she had asked so little in return for the huge favor. So they stood in front of the dedication plaque on the bridge and snapped a few shots, Nathan trying to look pathetic enough that her employer would be happy with her humanitarian use of their jet copter.

When they were done, she thanked him and said her goodbyes. She couldn't stay and he'd already announced he was going to shower. It was only fair she have some time with her friends alone. She pulled a two-centimeter digital disc from her pocket, sheathed in a hard plastic protective case. "The video from the jet copter."

He took a step back and raised both hands. "Don't give that to me." He looked at Jonathan and adopted an official air. "Commander, would you please accept that disc from Captain Hitchcock and lock it up somewhere that I have no access."

He blinked. "Sir?"

"Your quarters, perhaps? Just until you can hand it over to the JAG in Pearl. If I touch it, that corrupts the chain of custody for evidence."

He nodded understanding. "Yes, sir." He moved toward Katie, took the disc, and slipped it discreetly into his pocket.

"Thank you, Commander. I think we can let Brody take the conn for a while if you'd like to escort Katie to the mess."

"Thank you, sir." He turned and swept his arm toward the mag-lev. "After you, Captain."

Katie smirked at him. "Hey, if you're gonna get all formal on me, I just heard an admiral call you captain."

He gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Katie. Did you get to see Engineering yet?"

They walked out of Nathan's hearing. It was so good to hear Ford having a friendly chat about something other than work.

"Henderson, would you please take over for Mr. Ortiz?"

"Aye, sir." She moved efficiently toward the sensor station.

Ortiz stepped away from his station, but he looked confused.

"We have a hungry guest who came all the way from the Kuril Trench just to eat your flan. I suggest you don't disappoint her. Dismissed."

He grinned. "Thank you, sir." He took off toward the mag-lev.

Nathan felt badly that Lucas and Tim were missing the little reunion. Thoughts of his fellow castaways led to a cringing realization that he hadn't talked to Wendy yet. He needed to thank her and he needed to ask about their patients' progress. Shinju Hospital had promised to send all critical updates through her. He decided to stop by Medbay on the way to his quarters.

"Lt. Brody, you have the conn."

"Aye, sir," Brody said.

Nathan turned to leave, but then he heard Piccolo speaking behind him. "I have an incoming call from Captain Johnson on the Key West."

Nathan backed up the few steps he'd taken. Brody was looking at him for a cue. "I'll take the call, Lieutenant. Mr. Piccolo, put him on center screen."

"Aye, sir, center screen."

The vid-link display irised out, revealing the interior of an old Los Angeles-class sub. Her captain had a long cut on his face and looked almost as bedraggled as Nathan felt.

"Captain Johnson, I presume? This is Captain Nathan Bridger. My XO tells me I owe you some thanks for all your help."

The weariness in his eyes dissipated a little. "Captain Bridger? By God, he was right! I thought for sure you'd been lost at sea, but Commander Ford was convinced you'd made it."

Nathan chuckled. "He's very persistent like that. What can I do for you, Captain?"

He inhaled and stood a little taller, like this unexpected news had somehow strengthened him. "The Air Force is demanding that I hand over Major Slate to them when I reach Midway. Something doesn't feel right about it. These flyboys killed one of my men and injured quite a few of us. I don't want to lose another one like I lost Black."

"Well, first, the good news. Colonel Black's attack copter fired on our little unarmed life raft, but we'd already been evacuated. We got some nice footage and the UEO sent a fleet of AH-95s after him. He refused to surrender and was shot down. He drowned."

Johnson smiled, though it obviously pained his stitched cheek to do so. "The sea reclaims her enemies. Thank you for that news."

"Not at all. The bad news is that there's obviously someone highly placed in the Air Force who's been giving Black and Slate their orders and we don't have any idea who it is. Is there any way you can forestall Slate's transfer?"

"That's actually why I called. Our engines are at minimum capacity at the moment and we need gig line to repair them. Can you assist us?"

Bridger listened and nodded thoughtfully. He understood the code. 'Gig line' wasn't a real object; it was a navy in-joke, like 'bulkhead remover', used to send new recruits on an impossible task for the entertainment of the more experienced. Someone was monitoring his communications.

He'd slowed his boat down and requested assistance with a repair they didn't need. He obviously wanted the UEO (or at least someone whose interest matched his own) to take charge of Slate so he wouldn't escape justice.

Bridger looked over Tony's shoulder and down at the communications station. The Key West had sent a single set of coordinates over the G12 datalink. This was odd, not only because he hadn't requested them, but if he had, it would be faster and easier to just read coordinates out loud or type them into the vid-link screen. They were not that far out of his way. A side trip would add no more than two hours to the twelve hours still remaining to get seaQuest to Shinju Colony.

"Captain Johnson, seaQuest is running low on diesel, so we can't afford to deviate from our course. After we refuel in Tokyo, we'll get you that gig line."

Any navy man who'd ever heard of seaQuest knew that she didn't run on diesel and Johnson was obviously no dummy. He faked a good frown. "I'm afraid that at our current rate of twelve knots, we'll make it to Midway long before you can reach us."

Twelve knots? Good heavens, that poor old boat was all but dead in the water. It would be literally days before they reached Midway unless the reported speed was yet another red herring. However, even at the top speed for a Los Angeles-class, she wasn't going to reach Midway before seaQuest could get to her. Nathan shook his head, doing his best to keep a straight face. "Sorry, Captain, you're just too fast for us."

"Thanks for the news anyway. I'm glad to know you made it. Key West out."

"Smooth sailing, Key West. SeaQuest out."

As soon as the connection was severed, Tony couldn't contain himself any longer. He screwed up his face and asked, "Sir, what was that all about diesel engines and gig lines? There ain't no such thing."

He was proud of the seaman for keeping his trap shut during the exchange. "Johnson was telling me that the Air Force was monitoring his communications but he wanted us to come take Slate off his hands before he reaches Midway."

Brody added, "And it sounds like he's crippled his own boat to make sure we have time to get there."

Nathan shook his head. "Oh, we have time. Unless these coordinates are bad, and I can't imagine he would have bothered with the data uplink for phony coordinates, then we can get to him before he gets to Midway, no matter how fast he goes."

"Surely he knows where we are. We're running on the surface while we've got a chopper sitting on deck!"

"Exactly, Lieutenant. He knows we don't run on diesel either. Everything we said to each other was designed to fool the flyboys."

"But why bother? It's not even a race."

"Just a little passive-aggressive retribution. We're going to take Major Slate right out from under their noses and they won't even realize we had time to do it."

Brody grinned. "Set course for their location, sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. Alter course to rendezvous with the Key West. I'll be in my quarters. You have the conn."

"Aye, aye."

A/N How lame is it that my submarine names rhyme? Key West ; seaQuest. Not planned. Just hit me today. Duh moment.