seaQuest nyet moi.
Big respec' to: KatKnits00 (x2), PhoenixTears80, Mar, hepatica, ano, TeacherTam, pari106, Ahn-Li Steffraini, kas7 and Teresa.
TeacherTam: In case you haven't spotted KatKnits' explanation on the review page, ELF = Evil Lucas Fan. You were pretty much spot on in your guess about what that means : )...
Ghosts
Chapter 16
Westphalen turned and glared at Bridger. "What the hell was he doing on the bridge?"
Bridger exchanged uneasy glances with Krieg. He felt as if he was back in school.
"Well, uh," Krieg started nervously. Instantly Westphalen's flashing eyes were turned on him. He flinched.
"Was I addressing you, Lieutenant?"
"No, ma'am," Krieg said, sweat breaking out on his forehead, "but, it is kinda my fault..." He swallowed hard as the doctor's glare intensified. "I told him he had to go to med-bay! But he wouldn't listen!"
"And you think a sixteen-year-old child with severe concussion is capable of making that kind of decision for himself, do you?" Westphalen asked, coldly. Krieg looked shame-faced.
"Is he going to be OK?" he asked.
For a moment, the diminutive woman just stared at both of them. Then she looked away with an angry sigh. "No thanks to either of you," she said. "He's lost a lot of blood, and his shoulder and head are in pretty bad shape. But he'll be fine after a lot of rest." She turned back, raising an eyebrow at Bridger. "I trust you'll see that he gets it?" she said, menacingly. "Not planning to drag him off on any more adventures, are we?"
Bridger felt he had to defend himself. "Doctor, Mr. Wolenczak is a member of this crew. He volunteered for everything he did and..." he trailed off. Westphalen had thrown up her hands in disgust and gone back into the med- bay.
The two men stared after her retreating form. "Well," said Krieg after a moment, "that went better than I expected."
It was the sound of the surf that woke Lucas. He sat up slowly, brushing the sand out of his hair. The swell was stronger now, but the motion of the waves was still the same. In and out. In and out. Watching them gave him a strange feeling of peace.
After a while, he became aware that Robert was sitting next to him.
"I wondered when you would turn up," he said.
"What are you doing here, Lucas?" Robert asked without looking at him.
Lucas frowned. "I'm supposed to be here." He felt somehow that that was true, though his memory of what had happened before he came here was vague and blurred.
"No. I told you to go back, to help my dad."
Lucas was confused now. "I did help him. I saved the ship." He couldn't remember the details, but he was sure that he had saved the ship.
Robert glanced at him. "That's not what I meant."
Lucas didn't know what to say. He didn't understand. For a while, he watched the waves, but his previous peaceful feeling had given way to a nagging unease. Eventually, he asked the question that he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to.
"Are you going to send me back?"
Robert sighed. "No. This time you have to choose to go back yourself."
"What if I don't want to?"
Robert looked at him now, and his eyes were sad. "I would go back if I could. But I can't, so you have to go for me. My dad needs you."
Lucas shook his head. "For what?"
Robert watched him sadly for a while, then got up and began to walk away. Lucas wanted to say something to make him stay, but the words wouldn't come. A few metres down the beach, he disappeared.
Lucas turned to watch the sea once more.
"Captain?"
Bridger frowned, his thoughts interrupted. That was really no bad thing though: lately the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. He turned; Hitchcock and Crocker were standing behind him.
"We searched the shuttle like you said, Cap," Crocker said.
"Did you find the disk?"
Crocker and Hitchcock exchanged glances. "Well... Sort of..." the security chief answered, and held out his hand. In his palm lay a small pile of plastic fragments. Bridger stared at them.
"That's it?"
Hitchcock nodded. "It looks like the remains of two disks, sir," she said. "We found them on the floor of the cockpit."
Bridger looked up at her. "Can they be reconstructed?"
She looked worried. "It's possible. I can probably get some of the corrupted data off them, but we'd need someone pretty damn skilled to get it all intact. We'd need Lucas, sir."
Bridger looked at Crocker. His old friend shrugged. "I'm no expert, sir, but it seems like that boy ain't too keen for us to see what's on those disks."
Westphalen shook her head, looking worried. "I don't understand it," she said. "His concussion was severe, but not enough to cause this."
"What are you telling me, Doctor?" Bridger asked carefully.
The woman cast a glance at her unconscious patient, lying on the bed just behind her. "Somehow..." she started and then paused, seeming to gather her strength. "He's slipped into a coma."
Bridger's heart sank. "What are your predictions?"
Westphalen shook her head again. "My prediction was that he'd be awake by now. Now... I have no idea."
Bridger looked at the sleeping man for a moment. His face seemed very peaceful. "Is he going to die?" he asked, quietly.
Westphalen sighed, and sank down into a chair next to the bed. "I don't know," she admitted.
Bridger sat down in the chair next to hers and covered his face with his hands. Not again, he thought. "Did I do the right thing?" he asked, almost inaudibly, as if he was speaking to himself.
Westphalen frowned. "You know how I feel about all of this, especially involving children in the military." But then her face softened. "But... you did your job, and Lucas did his. I can respect that, even if I don't agree with it."
Bridger leaned his head back, feeling exhausted. He felt a wave of self- doubt. He thought about those fragments of disk, and the nagging doubt in the back of his mind that maybe Ford had been right after all.
"I used to be so sure about everything," he said. "Now... it feels like all I do is make the wrong decisions. How can I captain this boat when I can't even trust my own judgement?"
For a long moment, Westphalen just stared at her sleeping patient, as if she hadn't heard. Then she turned to face him, and her eyes were filled with pity. "The man who ran this boat for the first two months of the tour was not a good captain. Maybe he got results, but he wasn't a good captain."
"And now?" Bridger asked, afraid to hear the answer.
"You'll do fine," Westphalen said quietly.
Lucas had lost track of time. Or maybe the real problem was that time didn't really seem to matter here. The wave coming in could have been the fortieth or the four thousandth. It made no difference: there would always be more waves.
For some time he had been trying to piece together the details of how he had come to be in this place, but the information kept slipping away from him. To be honest, he couldn't really bring himself to care: all his emotions seemed somehow flattened. But he kept trying, perhaps out of habit.
He became aware that Robert was standing behind him. "You've come back," he said, without looking round.
The other man came and sat down beside him. "You won't get to stay here, you know," he said, as if continuing a previous conversation. "This is just a half-way house."
"I don't want to leave," Lucas said.
"But you will have to. You will either go forward, or back. You can't stay here."
Lucas digested this, watching the waves. The liquid sunlight danced on the water.
"And if I go on, I won't be able to come back," he said. It was not a question.
Robert nodded. "That's right." He squinted into the sun. "You have to choose soon."
"How soon?" Lucas asked, feeling a faint twinge of curiosity.
Robert shrugged. "The longer you stay here, the harder the decision will be. Your feelings will become... weaker."
Lucas looked at him. "That's not an answer."
Robert gave him a sad smile and stood up. "No," he admitted, and turned to go.
"Wait," Lucas said, "are you coming back?"
Robert looked back over his shoulder. "Maybe," he said, and faded away.
The waves continued their solemn, steady progress: always in motion, never going anywhere. Lucas saw that there were two doors on the beach: unmarked doors, like one might find in an office. He knew that he would normally be surprised by the incongruity, but he felt nothing. He stood up, and took a step towards the left-hand door. He felt a wave of peace and emptiness wash over him. He heard his mother singing. He looked around quickly, but the beach was empty. Yet still the voice sang, a song of cool forgetfulness and sleep.
Turning, he took a step towards the other door. A wave of fierce emotion assailed him with such force that he stumbled: anger and happiness and love and fear all rolled into one. He stood for a long moment between the two doors, feeling their conflicting influences warring within him. But his mother was still singing.
Lucas made a decision. He stepped towards the left-hand door and reached for the handle.
Krieg was off duty, and thought he would drop in to see how Lucas was doing. The thought of Dr. Westphalen still made him nervous, but the kid was probably awake by now, and Krieg didn't doubt he could do with a friend. When he came close to med-bay, however, he heard a commotion. He quickened his step, but stopped in confusion when he arrived at the door. Westphalen and three orderlies were crowded round the bed, and the doctor was holding the paddles of what Krieg recognised as a defibrillator. As he watched, she yelled, "Clear!" and pressed the paddles onto Lucas' chest. The boy's body convulsed, and an orderly checked the screen of the heart monitor that stood by the bed.
"No change," she reported, and Westphalen shook her head.
"Come on Lucas," she muttered, charging the paddles again.
Krieg knew he ought to stay out of the way, but he couldn't just stand by. "What's happening, doctor?" he asked, stepping closer to the bed.
Westphalen didn't seem to have heard him. "Clear!" she shouted again, and performed the same move as before. Krieg put a hand on her arm.
"What's happening?" he asked, insistently.
"No change," said the orderly. Westphalen turned to Krieg, her face angry and tired.
"He's dying," she said.
Big respec' to: KatKnits00 (x2), PhoenixTears80, Mar, hepatica, ano, TeacherTam, pari106, Ahn-Li Steffraini, kas7 and Teresa.
TeacherTam: In case you haven't spotted KatKnits' explanation on the review page, ELF = Evil Lucas Fan. You were pretty much spot on in your guess about what that means : )...
Ghosts
Chapter 16
Westphalen turned and glared at Bridger. "What the hell was he doing on the bridge?"
Bridger exchanged uneasy glances with Krieg. He felt as if he was back in school.
"Well, uh," Krieg started nervously. Instantly Westphalen's flashing eyes were turned on him. He flinched.
"Was I addressing you, Lieutenant?"
"No, ma'am," Krieg said, sweat breaking out on his forehead, "but, it is kinda my fault..." He swallowed hard as the doctor's glare intensified. "I told him he had to go to med-bay! But he wouldn't listen!"
"And you think a sixteen-year-old child with severe concussion is capable of making that kind of decision for himself, do you?" Westphalen asked, coldly. Krieg looked shame-faced.
"Is he going to be OK?" he asked.
For a moment, the diminutive woman just stared at both of them. Then she looked away with an angry sigh. "No thanks to either of you," she said. "He's lost a lot of blood, and his shoulder and head are in pretty bad shape. But he'll be fine after a lot of rest." She turned back, raising an eyebrow at Bridger. "I trust you'll see that he gets it?" she said, menacingly. "Not planning to drag him off on any more adventures, are we?"
Bridger felt he had to defend himself. "Doctor, Mr. Wolenczak is a member of this crew. He volunteered for everything he did and..." he trailed off. Westphalen had thrown up her hands in disgust and gone back into the med- bay.
The two men stared after her retreating form. "Well," said Krieg after a moment, "that went better than I expected."
It was the sound of the surf that woke Lucas. He sat up slowly, brushing the sand out of his hair. The swell was stronger now, but the motion of the waves was still the same. In and out. In and out. Watching them gave him a strange feeling of peace.
After a while, he became aware that Robert was sitting next to him.
"I wondered when you would turn up," he said.
"What are you doing here, Lucas?" Robert asked without looking at him.
Lucas frowned. "I'm supposed to be here." He felt somehow that that was true, though his memory of what had happened before he came here was vague and blurred.
"No. I told you to go back, to help my dad."
Lucas was confused now. "I did help him. I saved the ship." He couldn't remember the details, but he was sure that he had saved the ship.
Robert glanced at him. "That's not what I meant."
Lucas didn't know what to say. He didn't understand. For a while, he watched the waves, but his previous peaceful feeling had given way to a nagging unease. Eventually, he asked the question that he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to.
"Are you going to send me back?"
Robert sighed. "No. This time you have to choose to go back yourself."
"What if I don't want to?"
Robert looked at him now, and his eyes were sad. "I would go back if I could. But I can't, so you have to go for me. My dad needs you."
Lucas shook his head. "For what?"
Robert watched him sadly for a while, then got up and began to walk away. Lucas wanted to say something to make him stay, but the words wouldn't come. A few metres down the beach, he disappeared.
Lucas turned to watch the sea once more.
"Captain?"
Bridger frowned, his thoughts interrupted. That was really no bad thing though: lately the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. He turned; Hitchcock and Crocker were standing behind him.
"We searched the shuttle like you said, Cap," Crocker said.
"Did you find the disk?"
Crocker and Hitchcock exchanged glances. "Well... Sort of..." the security chief answered, and held out his hand. In his palm lay a small pile of plastic fragments. Bridger stared at them.
"That's it?"
Hitchcock nodded. "It looks like the remains of two disks, sir," she said. "We found them on the floor of the cockpit."
Bridger looked up at her. "Can they be reconstructed?"
She looked worried. "It's possible. I can probably get some of the corrupted data off them, but we'd need someone pretty damn skilled to get it all intact. We'd need Lucas, sir."
Bridger looked at Crocker. His old friend shrugged. "I'm no expert, sir, but it seems like that boy ain't too keen for us to see what's on those disks."
Westphalen shook her head, looking worried. "I don't understand it," she said. "His concussion was severe, but not enough to cause this."
"What are you telling me, Doctor?" Bridger asked carefully.
The woman cast a glance at her unconscious patient, lying on the bed just behind her. "Somehow..." she started and then paused, seeming to gather her strength. "He's slipped into a coma."
Bridger's heart sank. "What are your predictions?"
Westphalen shook her head again. "My prediction was that he'd be awake by now. Now... I have no idea."
Bridger looked at the sleeping man for a moment. His face seemed very peaceful. "Is he going to die?" he asked, quietly.
Westphalen sighed, and sank down into a chair next to the bed. "I don't know," she admitted.
Bridger sat down in the chair next to hers and covered his face with his hands. Not again, he thought. "Did I do the right thing?" he asked, almost inaudibly, as if he was speaking to himself.
Westphalen frowned. "You know how I feel about all of this, especially involving children in the military." But then her face softened. "But... you did your job, and Lucas did his. I can respect that, even if I don't agree with it."
Bridger leaned his head back, feeling exhausted. He felt a wave of self- doubt. He thought about those fragments of disk, and the nagging doubt in the back of his mind that maybe Ford had been right after all.
"I used to be so sure about everything," he said. "Now... it feels like all I do is make the wrong decisions. How can I captain this boat when I can't even trust my own judgement?"
For a long moment, Westphalen just stared at her sleeping patient, as if she hadn't heard. Then she turned to face him, and her eyes were filled with pity. "The man who ran this boat for the first two months of the tour was not a good captain. Maybe he got results, but he wasn't a good captain."
"And now?" Bridger asked, afraid to hear the answer.
"You'll do fine," Westphalen said quietly.
Lucas had lost track of time. Or maybe the real problem was that time didn't really seem to matter here. The wave coming in could have been the fortieth or the four thousandth. It made no difference: there would always be more waves.
For some time he had been trying to piece together the details of how he had come to be in this place, but the information kept slipping away from him. To be honest, he couldn't really bring himself to care: all his emotions seemed somehow flattened. But he kept trying, perhaps out of habit.
He became aware that Robert was standing behind him. "You've come back," he said, without looking round.
The other man came and sat down beside him. "You won't get to stay here, you know," he said, as if continuing a previous conversation. "This is just a half-way house."
"I don't want to leave," Lucas said.
"But you will have to. You will either go forward, or back. You can't stay here."
Lucas digested this, watching the waves. The liquid sunlight danced on the water.
"And if I go on, I won't be able to come back," he said. It was not a question.
Robert nodded. "That's right." He squinted into the sun. "You have to choose soon."
"How soon?" Lucas asked, feeling a faint twinge of curiosity.
Robert shrugged. "The longer you stay here, the harder the decision will be. Your feelings will become... weaker."
Lucas looked at him. "That's not an answer."
Robert gave him a sad smile and stood up. "No," he admitted, and turned to go.
"Wait," Lucas said, "are you coming back?"
Robert looked back over his shoulder. "Maybe," he said, and faded away.
The waves continued their solemn, steady progress: always in motion, never going anywhere. Lucas saw that there were two doors on the beach: unmarked doors, like one might find in an office. He knew that he would normally be surprised by the incongruity, but he felt nothing. He stood up, and took a step towards the left-hand door. He felt a wave of peace and emptiness wash over him. He heard his mother singing. He looked around quickly, but the beach was empty. Yet still the voice sang, a song of cool forgetfulness and sleep.
Turning, he took a step towards the other door. A wave of fierce emotion assailed him with such force that he stumbled: anger and happiness and love and fear all rolled into one. He stood for a long moment between the two doors, feeling their conflicting influences warring within him. But his mother was still singing.
Lucas made a decision. He stepped towards the left-hand door and reached for the handle.
Krieg was off duty, and thought he would drop in to see how Lucas was doing. The thought of Dr. Westphalen still made him nervous, but the kid was probably awake by now, and Krieg didn't doubt he could do with a friend. When he came close to med-bay, however, he heard a commotion. He quickened his step, but stopped in confusion when he arrived at the door. Westphalen and three orderlies were crowded round the bed, and the doctor was holding the paddles of what Krieg recognised as a defibrillator. As he watched, she yelled, "Clear!" and pressed the paddles onto Lucas' chest. The boy's body convulsed, and an orderly checked the screen of the heart monitor that stood by the bed.
"No change," she reported, and Westphalen shook her head.
"Come on Lucas," she muttered, charging the paddles again.
Krieg knew he ought to stay out of the way, but he couldn't just stand by. "What's happening, doctor?" he asked, stepping closer to the bed.
Westphalen didn't seem to have heard him. "Clear!" she shouted again, and performed the same move as before. Krieg put a hand on her arm.
"What's happening?" he asked, insistently.
"No change," said the orderly. Westphalen turned to Krieg, her face angry and tired.
"He's dying," she said.