seaQuest ei kuulu minulle.

The scent of birch woods after rain for my reviewers: pari106, sara, Zoe, Crimson Amber, kas, hepatica and ano (x2!). You guys are sweeter than cherry pie.

pari106: Hey, I love long reviews : ). It's great to hear some details about what you've enjoyed (although feel free to mention anything you don't like as well, I'm very thick-skinned). Thanks!

Crimson Amber: Guess you changed your moniker? How confusing. Still, I like the new one : ). Does that mean I have to change my thanks to you in all the chapters of PPM? ; )

ano: oh, ok, if you insist... : )



Ghosts

Chapter 3

Lucas pressed down his anxiety about Bridger, concentrating on the task in hand. If the captain was seriously hurt, he knew there was a chance he would be discharged from the boat. Besides, he couldn't bear the thought of Robert's father... He stopped himself. Find a way in, he thought determinedly. There's got to be a chink in their armour somewhere.

Ford was standing in the centre of the bridge, his back rigid. "Launch intercepts," he said tensely.

"Intercepts away," Ortiz reported. "Impact in three... two... one... impact." The boat rocked slightly. "All targets destroyed."

Ford nodded, but Ortiz wasn't finished. "They're coming round for another pass, sir," he said urgently. Lucas willed his fingers to move faster. It had been a while since he'd had access to a computer. Some of the flexibility was gone. He became vaguely aware that Hitchcock was staring at him, open-mouthed. He ignored her.

Ford gripped the back of the chair so tightly his knuckles went white. "Ready torpedoes, tubes one through five," he said.

Ortiz pressed a few buttons. "Flooding tubes, sir."

"Hail them," Ford said. O'Neill flipped a switch.

"Channel open, sir."

"Unidentified vessels, this is the UEO submarine seaQuest. You are in UEO waters. I order you to stand down. If you do not stand down, I will be forced to open fire."

O'Neill listened for a moment. "No answer, sir."

That was it! That was the way in. Lucas was suddenly nothing but an extension of the computer, the data flowing through his fingers into his brain. Just a few moments and he would be there.

"They're flooding their tubes," Ortiz reported. The tension on the bridge cranked up a notch.

Ford nodded decisively. "Fire torpedoes."

"No!" Lucas yelled, not looking up. Ortiz stopped, surprised, his hand half- way to the switch. Ford turned sharply.

"I'm almost into their systems. I'll be able to shut them down without any danger to us or them."

"What?!" Ford said, astonished. "Who ordered you to do that, soldier?"

Lucas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "No-one ordered me. It just seemed like the obvious thing to do."

"Well, you'd better stop doing it, now!" Ford said angrily. "Who knows what kind of viruses you could bring on board."

"Oh, come on, give me some credit," Lucas said, more sarcastically than he'd intended. His fingers never stopped moving. "They'll never even know I was there."

"Sir, they're firing torpedoes," Ortiz said urgently.

"Launch intercepts!" Ford yelled. "And then carry out my order and launch torpedoes."

"Don't!" Lucas was yelling too. "I'm almost there."

Ford strode towards him. "Mr. Wolenczak, you do not have the authority to countermand my orders-"

At that moment Ortiz looked up. "All power on the two subs has just gone down sir. They're dead in the water."

Lucas sat back, exhausted but determined not to show it. Ford was staring at him, beside himself with rage. Lucas stared back. Well done Wolenczak, he thought, that's a great way to win friends and influence people.



Bridger was sitting on the verandah of his shack on the island. The rain was lashing down and the sea was grey, but he was protected by the leaky porch roof. A few drops fell on his head, but he was too busy concentrating to notice. Somewhere out there, further along the beach, a figure was moving, almost obscured by the curtain of rain. Bridger stood up slowly, suddenly sure who it was, and stepped out into the storm. He started to walk, slowly at first, but then speeding up as the figure became more and more clear. The other man was moving more quickly as well. Bridger started to run. And in a moment he was holding the other man in his arm, hot tears mixing with the cold rain on his face. "Robert," he murmured, feeling as though his heart would burst, "Robert."

He held the young mans face between his hands and stared at him, drinking him in, unable to believe what he was seeing. Robert's hair was plastered to his head, he was soaked through but not shivering. He watched his father, his eyes sad.

"You've come back," Bridger said, his words barely audible over the sound of driving rain. "You've come back to me." He felt if he said it out loud, then it would be true forever. But even as the words left his mouth, the boy's face began to fade. There was a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder – or was it a gunshot? – and suddenly Bridger found himself clutching empty air and staring at the rain-lashed beach where his son's face had been a moment before. He sank to his knees on the sand, feeling something breaking within him.



Kristen Westphalen looked up in surprise as her patient uttered a wrenching sob. She stood up and walked quickly to the bed-side. Bridger was still unconscious, but his face was twisted in pain. She laid a cool hand on his forehead: there was no fever. Just a bad dream.

"Hush," she said gently, stroking back his hair as if he were a child. "Everything is going to be alright."

Bridger quietened under her touch, but she wished she were as sure of her words as she sounded. She had to admit, the Bridger who had captained the ship at the beginning of her tour had been something of a thorn in her side, and the change that seemed to have come over his personality was certainly a welcome one. But to think what the poor man must have been through... It had been hard enough for her, and she had only known Robert for a few weeks. She shook her head, checking the captain's pulse.

"You rest," she said quietly. "You look as though you could do with it."



It was late in the day by the time Bridger woke up. The first thing he saw was a smiling face. For a moment he thought it might be an angel, but then the blurred features resolved themselves into Kristen Westphalen's familiar visage. She had a beautiful smile, Bridger thought. Something he'd seen very little of during his earlier time on the boat.

"I see you've decided to join us back in the land of the living," the doctor said, still smiling. Bridger frowned. His head ached.

"What happened?" he asked, a little groggily.

"You fell and hit your head," Westphalen said. "Nothing serious. You've been sleeping for hours."

Bridger suddenly sat up bolt upright, and winced as a spear of pain shot through his head. "The attack," he said urgently. "What happened?"

Kristen pushed him gently back down again. "Hush, hush. Everything's under control. The attack was repelled successfully by Commander Ford."

Bridger nodded, relieved. "What happened?"

"Well you know," Westphalen said, looking slightly amused, "actually, there's an interesting story about that..."



"He was way out of line!" Ford's face was dark with anger. "He undermined my authority on the bridge!"

Bridger nodded, wincing slightly as Ford's voice grew even louder. "Yes, Jonathan, I'm sure he was, but-"

"I can't have him on the bridge," Ford interrupted. "I can't trust him."

Bridger raised his eyebrows in surprise. "As I understand it, Lucas managed to repel the attack without any loss of life to either side."

"He refused to follow orders," Ford hissed. "It's practically mutiny!"

"Now, now, Commander," Bridger said, making conciliatory gestures. "I think that's going a bit far."

Ford opened his mouth again, but was interrupted by an indignant voice.

"Commander Ford! Just what do you think you're doing?"

The XO turned to see the diminutive Doctor Westphalen glaring at him, arms folded and foot tapping. Bridger grinned to himself. He'd been on the wrong side of that glare too many times.

"Doctor," Ford said, "I'm sorry but this can't wait."

"Oh really?" Westphalen sounded decidedly unimpressed. "Well if I hear you using that tone in my Med Bay again, you'll find that it can wait, and will wait, possibly for a very long time." She raised her eyebrows at him, her eyes flashing.

Ford looked suitably chastened. "Yes ma'am," he muttered, flushing slightly.

"Good," Westphalen nodded, satisfied. "Well then, see that you don't."

After the doctor had gone on her way, Ford turned back to Bridger.

"Captain, I can't be expected to work with that man on the bridge."

Bridger shook his head. "Jonathan, I know he stepped out of line, but you have to remember, he's used to having authority of his own." Ford opened his mouth to protest, but Bridger raised his hand. "I know, I know. We can't have two commanders on this boat. I'll talk to him. I'm sure he'll see sense. But you'll have to deal with the fact that he's a member of this crew, Jonathan. That's my final word."

Ford nodded curtly. "Aye sir. Thank you, sir."

He turned to go, but at the doorway turned back. "Captain?"

Bridger raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, sir."

Bridger grinned. "Apology accepted. Now you'd better get out of here before the good doctor comes back."



Alexander Bourne would never do anything as crude as grind his teeth. However, he did feel the urge coming on. He fought it down.

"How did they defeat my two most powerful submarines?" he asked, his voice dangerously calm. The man on the screen sighed.

"Sir, I told you, they hacked into the computers and cut the power. The subs were theirs for the taking."

"State of the art computers!" Bourne said, a note of incredulity creeping into his voice. "We have the crew manifests, do we not? No-one on that ship is capable of breaking our programming. Or so I was told," he sneered, leaning closer to the screen. The man at the other end leaned back slightly.

"I only know what I've been told," he said helplessly.

Bourne sat back in his chair, his lips pursed. "Fine," he said, and shut off the transmission. Damn the UEO. He had expected seaQuest to win the battle eventually, but not without a fight. He had hoped she would be crippled for months, which would allow him to put his plans into action without hindrance. Well, he still had one or two cards up his sleeve.

The vid-link beeped, this time the presidential hot-line. Bourne nodded; he had been expecting this. He pressed the "accept call" button and the screen bloomed into life, showing the face of Yaroslav Kuznitsky, President of the Pacific South-West Federation.

"Mr. President," Bourne said politely, nodding at his superior.

"Minister Bourne." The president looked angry. "Some rather disturbing reports have been reaching me of late."

Bourne raised his eyebrows. "What sort of reports, may I ask, Mr. President?"

"What do you know about the experiments being conducted at the Fiji Arc Base?"

Bourne affected a look of surprise. "Experiments? What do you mean?"

Kuznitsky frowned. "Don't play the innocent with me Bourne. We can't afford to have the press find out about this. The liberals would make mincemeat out of us."

Bourne shook his head. "Sir, I do not understand why you persist in allowing this charade of democracy to go forward. Now that we have finally declared war on the UEO, there is all the more reason to stop the press from being disloyal."

The president's frown deepened. "I know your feelings on this matter, Minister, and you know mine. Just make sure you clean up your mess before anyone finds out about it."

Bourne's mouth twitched. "Yes, sir," he said coolly. The picture on the screen folded in on itself and disappeared. Bourne stared at the blank screen for a moment, then reached for his desk-mounted com unit. "Maria, get me a list of the names of everyone who works on the Fiji Arc Base." Whoever it was who leaked this is going to find themselves short of a bonus this Christmas, he thought with a grim smile.