seaQuest is niet mijn.
Well, I think if the temperature where you are is anything like here, then what you need is an electric fan and a tall, cold drink. Nine orders coming up then, for kas, sara, hepatica, pari106, Ahn-Li Steffraini, ano, Zoe, PhoenixTears80 and Fiona.
Ghosts
Chapter 7
"It's not that, it's just..." O'Neill paused, searching for the right word. "I don't know. I know he's supposed to be on our side now and everything, but it doesn't make it any easier to sleep at night."
Miguel Ortiz shook his head. "Come on, Tim, give the poor kid a chance. I'd much rather have him as a roommate than Kaufmann. He snores like a steam engine."
O'Neill smiled wanly, but seemed unconvinced. Ortiz sighed. "You've got to try and get over this, buddy," he said gently. "If you're going to stay in the navy you've got to try and get back in the saddle properly. You haven't been coping well ever since Aleutian Ridge." O'Neill looked up sharply at the name. Ortiz regarded him steadily. "You know it's the truth," he said, unsmiling. "You chose to come back, now you've got to follow through with your decision."
"What does that have to do with this?" O'Neill asked, trying to suppress the crack in his voice.
"Don't play innocent with me. You're the smart one, you know as well as I do that this is just a symptom of a bigger problem." O'Neill frowned, wishing his friend wasn't so damn clued up, and at the same time wishing he had the same gift of emotional intelligence. Ortiz smiled. "Look, just talk to the kid, OK? He's really a nice guy." The young Cuban stood up to leave, and as he did, the subject of their conversation appeared in the doorway. Ortiz grinned. "Hey Lucas," he said, nodding. "I was just on my way out."
"Hi, Miguel," Lucas said, unsmiling. He looked exhausted, O'Neill observed. Well, it wasn't really a surprise: much to O'Neill's relief, the man seemed hardly to spend any time sleeping.
O'Neill stood up too and started to follow Ortiz, but Lucas suddenly put a hand on his arm. "Can we talk?" he asked, watching the lieutenant with a grave expression. O'Neill looked pleadingly at Ortiz, but his friend just grinned and walked away. He drew a deep breath and went to sit at the table. Lucas sat opposite him and stared down at the table-top, fiddling with something. After a moment, O'Neill cleared his throat.
"What was it you wanted?" he asked.
Lucas looked up and their gazes locked. O'Neill wanted to look away, but found he couldn't. "Why are you afraid of me?" the young man said, and there was a note in his voice that O'Neill had not heard before, although he was not able immediately to identify it.
The lieutenant cleared his throat, blinking in embarrassment and confusion. "I'm not afraid of you," he said, but his voice didn't sound convincing even to himself.
"Don't screw around with me," Lucas said, and O'Neill thought that maybe the strange tone was anger. He flinched slightly. Something flickered across the other man's face, and he dropped his gaze to the table-top once more. "We've got to live with each other," he said in a low voice. "I'd like it if we could be friends."
"Do you even have friends?" O'Neill couldn't believe he'd said his thought out loud, but there it was, hanging in the air between them. The young man looked up sharply, and for a moment his mask slipped and O'Neill saw nothing but hurt and loss on his face. Then he dropped his gaze again, and the moment was gone, as quickly as it had come.
"I used to," he said, and his voice was almost a whisper.
Suddenly, O'Neill had the urge to reach out and touch his arm, to take the step that would bridge the gulf between them, to follow Ortiz's advice. Suddenly before him sat not a vision of everything which terrified him, but a boy who was reaching out for a friend, and O'Neill wanted to reach back. But the impulse hit a solid wall of fear, fear that seemed to be ever- present now in O'Neill's gut, so much so that he had forgotten what it was like to live without it. He sat silent as the conflicting impulses battled for dominance within him; his heart told him to make the move; his gut told him to run. Torn, O'Neill did nothing at all.
After a long moment, Lucas looked up once more. The teenager was gone, and the commander was back in his place. Only his eyes still seemed sad. He stood up from the table. "Well then, I guess I'll see you around," he said, and turned to head for the door.
It was as the hatch closed behind him that O'Neill finally identified what the strange tone in the other man's voice had been.
It was despair.
Krieg leaned back in his chair and surveyed the crewmembers seated around the Ward Room table. These briefing meetings were always a good chance to check up on how morale was going among the senior staff. From the look of things, Krieg had his work cut out for him. Bridger had only been back on board for a week, but already he looked tired and depressed. Westphalen seemed sad and Ford tense and angry. O'Neill and Lucas were seated as far away from each other as possible; Krieg had heard all about that ongoing saga from Ortiz, but although O'Neill just looked a little nervous, Lucas looked as if he was running on empty. Even those crew members who weren't doing badly – Hitchcock, Crocker, Ortiz and himself – could hardly help being affected by the tense, unhappy atmosphere that seemed to be shrouding the majority of the senior crew. And what was true of them could hardly help but be true of the crew in general.
Krieg sighed inwardly. The boat was heading for a morale disaster. He had to do something. And he knew who the lynchpin was: Bridger. For a moment, he allowed himself to dwell on the underlying cause of the captain's mood.
Robert, he thought, if only you were here. Then he pushed that thought away as he always did. Bridger had come back to the boat, and Krieg was determined that he would make him see his decision through properly: a depressed captain was hardly better than no captain at all.
Krieg's thoughts were cut off as Bridger rose from his seat to begin the meeting.
"Thank you all for coming," the captain said, and Krieg raised a mental eyebrow.
Well, you certainly seem to have taught your dad some humility, he noted. I wish he could have learned it some other way.
The captain was surveying them all now, and he looked suddenly exhausted. "I'm afraid I have some bad news. As of 0800 hours this morning, the UEO is officially at war with the Pacific South-West Federation."
Around the table, expressions of shock and worry appeared on the faces of the senior staff. Krieg felt his stomach drop – he, along with all the others, had hoped that the tensions they had experienced would be resolved diplomatically. Only Lucas seemed unaffected.
"That's not all," Bridger added. "With the help of some information provided to them by members of this crew," here he glanced at Lucas, "UEO intelligence has ascertained that the PSWs were responsible for a break-in at the Barren Island Military Research Facility earlier this month. Top- secret military technology, of which there was no back-up copy, was stolen. Intelligence has traced the culprits back to the Fuji Arc." He tapped a button on the console in front of him. The Ward Room view-screen lit up with a map of an undersea mountain. Ford leaned forward.
"But there's nothing there," he said, frowning.
Bridger nodded. "That's what we thought too. But scans of the area have shown this." He pressed another button and a computer graphic cross-section of the ridge appeared on the screen.
"It's hollow," Hitchcock gasped.
"That's right," Bridger said grimly. "We have reason to believe that this is a top-secret PSW base. And the UEO wants us to destroy it.
Hitchcock nodded thoughtfully. "That shouldn't be too difficult," she said. "If we train the lasers at the base of the mountain-"
"I'm afraid it won't be that easy, Commander," Bridger said with a sigh. "The UEO wants the data that was stolen back before the base is destroyed. And there's no way we can get the seaQuest in close enough to fire on it. It's 500 kilometres over the border. We need to send in a team to do it."
Everyone turned as a chair scraped back. Lucas was on his feet and at attention. "Sir, I request that you assign me to this mission."
Before Bridger could say anything, Ford was on his feet as well. "Sir, it's my job to lead missions of this kind."
Lucas didn't move a muscle, he didn't even look at Ford. Bridger looked from one to the other, and sighed. He nodded at Lucas. "At ease, Mr. Wolenczak. You're a civilian now, remember?"
The young man relaxed infinitesimally. "Aye, sir, I remember," he said tonelessly.
Bridger shook his head. "Why do you want to go on this mission, Lucas?"
"With respect, sir, the UEO tends to use its power as a blunt instrument. This mission calls for subtlety. I have four years of combat experience in the Free Nations navy. Subtlety was our only defence. I've been on hundreds of missions of this kind."
Bridger nodded thoughtfully. "Commander Ford?"
Ford shook his head angrily. "That's complete nonsense. The UEO is just as capable of being subtle as anyone else. Besides, we need someone more... experienced to handle this."
Bridger stood for a moment in silence, leaning over the table. Then he straightened up decisively. "Mr. Wolenczak, you will lead the mission. Choose three others to go with you and meet me in the briefing room in one hour."
Lucas stood to attention again. "Sir, I want to go alone."
Ford opened his mouth, but Bridger raised a hand to silence him. "Continue," he said to Lucas, frowning.
"Four men are four times as likely to be caught as one. This isn't a combat mission, and there's no way I'd be able to fight my way out of there if push came to shove, whether I had four men or fourteen. I'd rather be able to concentrate on watching my own back without worrying about anyone else's."
Bridger regarded him for a moment, then turned back to the table at large. "What do you all think?"
Hitchcock spoke first. "I think Lucas is right," she said. "If he's the one to go, he should go alone."
Crocker shook his head. "I don't like it. I agree with Commander Ford, we need more experienced personnel."
Seems like 'experienced' is a pretty popular euphemism round here these days, Krieg thought to himself.
"Captain," Ford said, but Bridger raised his hand again.
"I know what you think, Commander," he said firmly. He stood for a moment, frowning, then turned to Lucas.
"OK, Mr. Wolenczak, you've got it. You'll go alone. Briefing room in one hour. Dismissed."
Krieg followed Lucas out of the Ward Room and down the corridor. When they were alone, he put his hand on the young man's arm. Lucas span around, then relaxed when he saw Krieg. "Hey, Ben."
"Hey Lucas." Ben wondered where to start. He took a deep breath. "You know, you don't have to prove anything here. Maybe there are some people on this boat who still don't trust you, but the captain does and that's the important thing."
Lucas regarded him gravely. "I gave up trying to prove myself years ago, Ben."
"Then why volunteer for this mission?" Krieg asked, confused.
Lucas shrugged. "I'm the best man for the job," he said simply.
Krieg frowned. He had heard tales, of course, of Lucas' exploits on the bridge of the seaQuest eight months before. He knew the boy's past. But he personally had never seen him in action, and he found it hard to reconcile the serious-minded teenager before him with the highly-trained killer who had fast become legend in the mess-hall.
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Seems like Ford is not the only person I have to prove myself to," he said, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly upward.
Krieg shook his head. "You don't have to prove anything to me Lucas. I just don't want you to get hurt, that's all."
The smile died in Lucas' eyes. "I'm not like Robert, Ben. I can look after myself."
At the mention of Robert's name, Krieg felt his heart sink. "I know you can. I'm not trying to patronise you. I'm just trying to be your friend."
Lucas dropped his gaze and nodded. "I know. Thanks for trying."
Then he turned and walked away.
Well, I think if the temperature where you are is anything like here, then what you need is an electric fan and a tall, cold drink. Nine orders coming up then, for kas, sara, hepatica, pari106, Ahn-Li Steffraini, ano, Zoe, PhoenixTears80 and Fiona.
Ghosts
Chapter 7
"It's not that, it's just..." O'Neill paused, searching for the right word. "I don't know. I know he's supposed to be on our side now and everything, but it doesn't make it any easier to sleep at night."
Miguel Ortiz shook his head. "Come on, Tim, give the poor kid a chance. I'd much rather have him as a roommate than Kaufmann. He snores like a steam engine."
O'Neill smiled wanly, but seemed unconvinced. Ortiz sighed. "You've got to try and get over this, buddy," he said gently. "If you're going to stay in the navy you've got to try and get back in the saddle properly. You haven't been coping well ever since Aleutian Ridge." O'Neill looked up sharply at the name. Ortiz regarded him steadily. "You know it's the truth," he said, unsmiling. "You chose to come back, now you've got to follow through with your decision."
"What does that have to do with this?" O'Neill asked, trying to suppress the crack in his voice.
"Don't play innocent with me. You're the smart one, you know as well as I do that this is just a symptom of a bigger problem." O'Neill frowned, wishing his friend wasn't so damn clued up, and at the same time wishing he had the same gift of emotional intelligence. Ortiz smiled. "Look, just talk to the kid, OK? He's really a nice guy." The young Cuban stood up to leave, and as he did, the subject of their conversation appeared in the doorway. Ortiz grinned. "Hey Lucas," he said, nodding. "I was just on my way out."
"Hi, Miguel," Lucas said, unsmiling. He looked exhausted, O'Neill observed. Well, it wasn't really a surprise: much to O'Neill's relief, the man seemed hardly to spend any time sleeping.
O'Neill stood up too and started to follow Ortiz, but Lucas suddenly put a hand on his arm. "Can we talk?" he asked, watching the lieutenant with a grave expression. O'Neill looked pleadingly at Ortiz, but his friend just grinned and walked away. He drew a deep breath and went to sit at the table. Lucas sat opposite him and stared down at the table-top, fiddling with something. After a moment, O'Neill cleared his throat.
"What was it you wanted?" he asked.
Lucas looked up and their gazes locked. O'Neill wanted to look away, but found he couldn't. "Why are you afraid of me?" the young man said, and there was a note in his voice that O'Neill had not heard before, although he was not able immediately to identify it.
The lieutenant cleared his throat, blinking in embarrassment and confusion. "I'm not afraid of you," he said, but his voice didn't sound convincing even to himself.
"Don't screw around with me," Lucas said, and O'Neill thought that maybe the strange tone was anger. He flinched slightly. Something flickered across the other man's face, and he dropped his gaze to the table-top once more. "We've got to live with each other," he said in a low voice. "I'd like it if we could be friends."
"Do you even have friends?" O'Neill couldn't believe he'd said his thought out loud, but there it was, hanging in the air between them. The young man looked up sharply, and for a moment his mask slipped and O'Neill saw nothing but hurt and loss on his face. Then he dropped his gaze again, and the moment was gone, as quickly as it had come.
"I used to," he said, and his voice was almost a whisper.
Suddenly, O'Neill had the urge to reach out and touch his arm, to take the step that would bridge the gulf between them, to follow Ortiz's advice. Suddenly before him sat not a vision of everything which terrified him, but a boy who was reaching out for a friend, and O'Neill wanted to reach back. But the impulse hit a solid wall of fear, fear that seemed to be ever- present now in O'Neill's gut, so much so that he had forgotten what it was like to live without it. He sat silent as the conflicting impulses battled for dominance within him; his heart told him to make the move; his gut told him to run. Torn, O'Neill did nothing at all.
After a long moment, Lucas looked up once more. The teenager was gone, and the commander was back in his place. Only his eyes still seemed sad. He stood up from the table. "Well then, I guess I'll see you around," he said, and turned to head for the door.
It was as the hatch closed behind him that O'Neill finally identified what the strange tone in the other man's voice had been.
It was despair.
Krieg leaned back in his chair and surveyed the crewmembers seated around the Ward Room table. These briefing meetings were always a good chance to check up on how morale was going among the senior staff. From the look of things, Krieg had his work cut out for him. Bridger had only been back on board for a week, but already he looked tired and depressed. Westphalen seemed sad and Ford tense and angry. O'Neill and Lucas were seated as far away from each other as possible; Krieg had heard all about that ongoing saga from Ortiz, but although O'Neill just looked a little nervous, Lucas looked as if he was running on empty. Even those crew members who weren't doing badly – Hitchcock, Crocker, Ortiz and himself – could hardly help being affected by the tense, unhappy atmosphere that seemed to be shrouding the majority of the senior crew. And what was true of them could hardly help but be true of the crew in general.
Krieg sighed inwardly. The boat was heading for a morale disaster. He had to do something. And he knew who the lynchpin was: Bridger. For a moment, he allowed himself to dwell on the underlying cause of the captain's mood.
Robert, he thought, if only you were here. Then he pushed that thought away as he always did. Bridger had come back to the boat, and Krieg was determined that he would make him see his decision through properly: a depressed captain was hardly better than no captain at all.
Krieg's thoughts were cut off as Bridger rose from his seat to begin the meeting.
"Thank you all for coming," the captain said, and Krieg raised a mental eyebrow.
Well, you certainly seem to have taught your dad some humility, he noted. I wish he could have learned it some other way.
The captain was surveying them all now, and he looked suddenly exhausted. "I'm afraid I have some bad news. As of 0800 hours this morning, the UEO is officially at war with the Pacific South-West Federation."
Around the table, expressions of shock and worry appeared on the faces of the senior staff. Krieg felt his stomach drop – he, along with all the others, had hoped that the tensions they had experienced would be resolved diplomatically. Only Lucas seemed unaffected.
"That's not all," Bridger added. "With the help of some information provided to them by members of this crew," here he glanced at Lucas, "UEO intelligence has ascertained that the PSWs were responsible for a break-in at the Barren Island Military Research Facility earlier this month. Top- secret military technology, of which there was no back-up copy, was stolen. Intelligence has traced the culprits back to the Fuji Arc." He tapped a button on the console in front of him. The Ward Room view-screen lit up with a map of an undersea mountain. Ford leaned forward.
"But there's nothing there," he said, frowning.
Bridger nodded. "That's what we thought too. But scans of the area have shown this." He pressed another button and a computer graphic cross-section of the ridge appeared on the screen.
"It's hollow," Hitchcock gasped.
"That's right," Bridger said grimly. "We have reason to believe that this is a top-secret PSW base. And the UEO wants us to destroy it.
Hitchcock nodded thoughtfully. "That shouldn't be too difficult," she said. "If we train the lasers at the base of the mountain-"
"I'm afraid it won't be that easy, Commander," Bridger said with a sigh. "The UEO wants the data that was stolen back before the base is destroyed. And there's no way we can get the seaQuest in close enough to fire on it. It's 500 kilometres over the border. We need to send in a team to do it."
Everyone turned as a chair scraped back. Lucas was on his feet and at attention. "Sir, I request that you assign me to this mission."
Before Bridger could say anything, Ford was on his feet as well. "Sir, it's my job to lead missions of this kind."
Lucas didn't move a muscle, he didn't even look at Ford. Bridger looked from one to the other, and sighed. He nodded at Lucas. "At ease, Mr. Wolenczak. You're a civilian now, remember?"
The young man relaxed infinitesimally. "Aye, sir, I remember," he said tonelessly.
Bridger shook his head. "Why do you want to go on this mission, Lucas?"
"With respect, sir, the UEO tends to use its power as a blunt instrument. This mission calls for subtlety. I have four years of combat experience in the Free Nations navy. Subtlety was our only defence. I've been on hundreds of missions of this kind."
Bridger nodded thoughtfully. "Commander Ford?"
Ford shook his head angrily. "That's complete nonsense. The UEO is just as capable of being subtle as anyone else. Besides, we need someone more... experienced to handle this."
Bridger stood for a moment in silence, leaning over the table. Then he straightened up decisively. "Mr. Wolenczak, you will lead the mission. Choose three others to go with you and meet me in the briefing room in one hour."
Lucas stood to attention again. "Sir, I want to go alone."
Ford opened his mouth, but Bridger raised a hand to silence him. "Continue," he said to Lucas, frowning.
"Four men are four times as likely to be caught as one. This isn't a combat mission, and there's no way I'd be able to fight my way out of there if push came to shove, whether I had four men or fourteen. I'd rather be able to concentrate on watching my own back without worrying about anyone else's."
Bridger regarded him for a moment, then turned back to the table at large. "What do you all think?"
Hitchcock spoke first. "I think Lucas is right," she said. "If he's the one to go, he should go alone."
Crocker shook his head. "I don't like it. I agree with Commander Ford, we need more experienced personnel."
Seems like 'experienced' is a pretty popular euphemism round here these days, Krieg thought to himself.
"Captain," Ford said, but Bridger raised his hand again.
"I know what you think, Commander," he said firmly. He stood for a moment, frowning, then turned to Lucas.
"OK, Mr. Wolenczak, you've got it. You'll go alone. Briefing room in one hour. Dismissed."
Krieg followed Lucas out of the Ward Room and down the corridor. When they were alone, he put his hand on the young man's arm. Lucas span around, then relaxed when he saw Krieg. "Hey, Ben."
"Hey Lucas." Ben wondered where to start. He took a deep breath. "You know, you don't have to prove anything here. Maybe there are some people on this boat who still don't trust you, but the captain does and that's the important thing."
Lucas regarded him gravely. "I gave up trying to prove myself years ago, Ben."
"Then why volunteer for this mission?" Krieg asked, confused.
Lucas shrugged. "I'm the best man for the job," he said simply.
Krieg frowned. He had heard tales, of course, of Lucas' exploits on the bridge of the seaQuest eight months before. He knew the boy's past. But he personally had never seen him in action, and he found it hard to reconcile the serious-minded teenager before him with the highly-trained killer who had fast become legend in the mess-hall.
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Seems like Ford is not the only person I have to prove myself to," he said, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly upward.
Krieg shook his head. "You don't have to prove anything to me Lucas. I just don't want you to get hurt, that's all."
The smile died in Lucas' eyes. "I'm not like Robert, Ben. I can look after myself."
At the mention of Robert's name, Krieg felt his heart sink. "I know you can. I'm not trying to patronise you. I'm just trying to be your friend."
Lucas dropped his gaze and nodded. "I know. Thanks for trying."
Then he turned and walked away.