I've run out of linguistically talented friends, so I'll just say seaQuest
is not mine and I'm not making any money from this story (though wouldn't
it be cool if we did make money from this stuff?)
Spectacular sunsets for: Mar, hepatica, TeacherTam, Teresa, KatKnits00, pari106, Crimson Amber, sara and lo. Also partaking of the cauldron of gratitude are Unique and Andelia, for reviewing Pro Patria Mori.
Mar: lol! I don't think we ever used the line "I'm a psycho" when we were playing that game. And I'm not sure, but I think Lucas might have to get his parents'/guardian's consent before tying the knot with Bridger...
Teresa: I'm glad you're still enjoying it ; ). Not too long to go now...
lo: no, no courses, just me and my pen and paper (well, laptop to be more accurate). But I was very flattered by your comment! It kept me smiling all day : ).
Unique: thanks for making the effort to write such a long and detailed review. It gave me a lot to think about. I'll have to get back to you on that one...
Andelia: Sorry for not thanking you earlier for reviewing PPM – I read your review when I was, ahem, shall we say a little the worse for wear after a night in the pub, and I only remembered it today! Which is rather embarrassing. But thank you so much for your comments! And please write more of Lost and Found soon, I love it : ).
By the way everyone, I realised that probably some people didn't get the reference I was making with the title of Pro Patria Mori (my fault for being pretentious), so I added the poem that it comes from to the end of chapter 18. I recommend dropping by and reading it, it's a fantastic poem (and I hope I don't get into any copyright troubles over it...).
Anyway, enough waffling from me, on with the story...
Ghosts
Chapter 18
His quarters were empty. Seriously empty. Here and there there were a few signs of one of the inhabitants, neatly stacked books on the bookshelf, a framed print of some painting. But of himself, there was nothing.
Lucas sighed and opened the cupboard, wondering if O'Neill had thrown his stuff out in the hope that he wouldn't be coming back. No, what little of it there was was still there. Some home, he thought to himself, sitting down heavily on the bed.
Westphalen had not been happy with him leaving med-bay so soon, but he had insisted and she had finally caved in, making him promise to wear a sling. He wasn't sure why he'd wanted to leave, but something about the place made him feel exposed. Vulnerable. Which he was.
I'm sorry Robert, he thought looking up at the ceiling as if somehow he could penetrate the metal and the water and see his dead friend's face peering down at him from the sky. I'm not sure exactly what it was you wanted me to help your father with, but I'm not doing a very good job. I'll probably get my marching orders any time now. He wasn't superstitious as a rule, believing only in cold, hard science, but something about the vivid dream he had had while he was unconscious had got to him.
A noise from behind him caught his attention. He turned quickly, to see Darwin in the swim tube, banging his beak gently against the side. He reached over and laid his hand on the glass.
"Hey, buddy," he said. "At least you're still on my side. Guess I'm the only person round here who fits in even less well than you."
"What is it?" Bridger asked, staring at the string of letters and numbers on the screen.
"Best guess, some kind of formula," Hitchcock answered. "It's very garbled, and large parts are missing, but I'm afraid this is the best that I can do. The data is too corrupted."
"What kind of formula?" Bridger asked, frowning. Hitchcock shook her head.
"I'm sorry, sir, it's not my area of expertise. You could ask Dr. Westphalen."
Bridger nodded. "I might just do that."
O'Neill took a deep breath as he prepared to enter the room. He had tried very hard not to hope that Lucas wouldn't come back from the mission, knowing that such a hope put his soul in danger. And when Lucas had come back, he had smothered the tiny flame of disappointment within him. He was determined to be a better person. And this was the first step along the way: to take the hand that had been stretched out to him before he left.
You are not going to run my life, he said to the spectre of fear that had lived within him since the Aleutian engagement, and mentally shoved it as hard as he could, pressing it into a corner. Then he entered the room.
But the bed was empty. He stared in confusion, then looked up as he heard Westphalen's crisp voice: "Can I help you, Lieutenant?"
O'Neill swallowed. "Um, yes, actually, I'm here to see Lucas."
Westphalen's friendly smile faded slightly. "I see. Well, he checked himself out this morning."
"Oh." O'Neill felt somewhat deflated. All his determination seemed to leak out of him. "Is he OK?"
Westphalen frowned. "Well, he's as hard-headed as a rhino, and really could do with learning some manners." Her face softened. "But yes, he's fine."
O'Neill nodded, and turned to go, but turned back when Westphalen spoke again.
"If you do speak to him," she said, "tell him that if he's not back here for a check-up by the end of the day I'll have him back in that bed before you can say 'tranquilizer'. And this time," she added, smiling sweetly, "I'll tie him down."
O'Neill grinned nervously, feeling torn between amusement and terror. As he left, he passed Captain Bridger coming in.
Westphalen shook her head. "Well, it's some kind of instruction manual for constructing a chemical compound, but," she leaned closer to the screen, "some of these elements are highly toxic. This one for example," she pointed to a section of the code, "this has about the same effect as quicklime on the human body." She sat back. "Without all the data it's hard to tell, but it looks like some kind of chemical weapon. Where did this come from?"
Bridger stared at the code. "The UEO," he said, quietly.
When Lucas saw that Krieg was sitting with O'Neill and Ortiz, he almost turned and walked straight back out of the mess hall. But Krieg had seen him and was waving frantically. With a sigh, he made his way to their table. He saw Ortiz nudge O'Neill and Krieg give them both warning looks. Welcome to hell, he thought.
Krieg chattered away as always, and Ortiz put in a pertinent comment here and there. Lucas tried to join in with the conversation, but he was distracted. He was aware the O'Neill was silent, staring at the table. He ate as fast as he could, wanting to get away. He knew that was just a short- term solution, but he had tried to patch it up with the guy before, and didn't feel he had the emotional energy to try again. It's his turn now, he thought, then snorted inwardly. Fat chance.
As he stood up to go, someone said: "Lucas?" He turned. It was O'Neill. He looked pale, but his face was determined.
"I hear you're doing pretty well with the dolphin communication programme," O'Neill said. The two other men stared at him in astonishment.
For a moment, Lucas was speechless. Then he closed his mouth. "Uh, yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "I've just got to programme the language base."
O'Neill nodded. "Well, I'm pretty good with languages," he said. "Maybe I could give you a hand sometime."
For a moment, Lucas just stared at him. Then he recovered his wits. "Yeah," he said, and his voice squeaked slightly in surprise. "Yeah, that'd be cool."
O'Neill smiled unsteadily. "Well, see you around, Lucas," he said.
"Yeah, see you around," Lucas said, and the ghost of a smile grazed the corners of his lips.
Lucas was sitting on the floor with his back against the moon pool rampart, fiddling one-handedly with the vocorder when Bridger found him. Darwin was not in evidence. The young man looked up when he heard Bridger approaching, and his features hardened into the now-familiar mask.
Bridger sat down heavily next to him. "Hey Lucas."
"Captain." Lucas did not look at him and continued to type on the vocorder's makeshift keyboard. The silence stretched out between them.
Eventually Bridger sighed. "I've seen what was on the disk."
Lucas did not react. Bridger wondered if he had even heard him. "I understand why you did what you did," he continued. "I understand it, but that doesn't make it right."
Lucas still didn't speak, but Bridger knew he had his attention: he had stopped tapping on the vocorder.
"You understand that people die in war, don't you Lucas?" Bridger asked, though it seemed like a lame excuse.
Lucas raised his head, although he still didn't look at Bridger. "Oh yes, Captain, I understand that very well," he said bitterly. "I understand it, but that doesn't make it right."
Bridger sighed. You're not making this easy for me, kid, he thought to himself. "Look, Lucas, I have to know that you're going to be loyal to me. I can't have you disobeying orders whenever you feel like it."
"I told you, Captain, I am loyal to you," Lucas said. "But you didn't create that formula."
"Well, let me rephrase," Bridger said, trying not to sound exasperated. "I need to know that you'll be loyal to UEO command, whether they give you orders through me or directly."
Lucas considered this. "I can't promise you that," he said quietly.
"That's what I thought."
Lucas looked down at the vocorder again. "So I guess you want me to leave."
Bridger shook his head. "Leave? Oh, no. I've got something much better in mind for you. I'm going to make you an ensign."
Lucas looked at Bridger for the first time, his head turning sharply, eyes astonished. "An ensign?"
"That's right," Bridger said seriously. "You'll have no more excuse to disobey orders. And I'll have no more get-out clause. Isn't that what you wanted?"
Lucas stared at him. "Um, Captain, don't you think you could give me a higher rank?"
Bridger grinned. "Don't worry, Lucas. If you work hard for a few years, you might make lieutenant." Lucas' mouth dropped open. Bridger clapped him on his good shoulder, standing up. "Congratulations," he said, and left, grinning to himself, leaving Lucas to stare speechlessly after him.
Spectacular sunsets for: Mar, hepatica, TeacherTam, Teresa, KatKnits00, pari106, Crimson Amber, sara and lo. Also partaking of the cauldron of gratitude are Unique and Andelia, for reviewing Pro Patria Mori.
Mar: lol! I don't think we ever used the line "I'm a psycho" when we were playing that game. And I'm not sure, but I think Lucas might have to get his parents'/guardian's consent before tying the knot with Bridger...
Teresa: I'm glad you're still enjoying it ; ). Not too long to go now...
lo: no, no courses, just me and my pen and paper (well, laptop to be more accurate). But I was very flattered by your comment! It kept me smiling all day : ).
Unique: thanks for making the effort to write such a long and detailed review. It gave me a lot to think about. I'll have to get back to you on that one...
Andelia: Sorry for not thanking you earlier for reviewing PPM – I read your review when I was, ahem, shall we say a little the worse for wear after a night in the pub, and I only remembered it today! Which is rather embarrassing. But thank you so much for your comments! And please write more of Lost and Found soon, I love it : ).
By the way everyone, I realised that probably some people didn't get the reference I was making with the title of Pro Patria Mori (my fault for being pretentious), so I added the poem that it comes from to the end of chapter 18. I recommend dropping by and reading it, it's a fantastic poem (and I hope I don't get into any copyright troubles over it...).
Anyway, enough waffling from me, on with the story...
Ghosts
Chapter 18
His quarters were empty. Seriously empty. Here and there there were a few signs of one of the inhabitants, neatly stacked books on the bookshelf, a framed print of some painting. But of himself, there was nothing.
Lucas sighed and opened the cupboard, wondering if O'Neill had thrown his stuff out in the hope that he wouldn't be coming back. No, what little of it there was was still there. Some home, he thought to himself, sitting down heavily on the bed.
Westphalen had not been happy with him leaving med-bay so soon, but he had insisted and she had finally caved in, making him promise to wear a sling. He wasn't sure why he'd wanted to leave, but something about the place made him feel exposed. Vulnerable. Which he was.
I'm sorry Robert, he thought looking up at the ceiling as if somehow he could penetrate the metal and the water and see his dead friend's face peering down at him from the sky. I'm not sure exactly what it was you wanted me to help your father with, but I'm not doing a very good job. I'll probably get my marching orders any time now. He wasn't superstitious as a rule, believing only in cold, hard science, but something about the vivid dream he had had while he was unconscious had got to him.
A noise from behind him caught his attention. He turned quickly, to see Darwin in the swim tube, banging his beak gently against the side. He reached over and laid his hand on the glass.
"Hey, buddy," he said. "At least you're still on my side. Guess I'm the only person round here who fits in even less well than you."
"What is it?" Bridger asked, staring at the string of letters and numbers on the screen.
"Best guess, some kind of formula," Hitchcock answered. "It's very garbled, and large parts are missing, but I'm afraid this is the best that I can do. The data is too corrupted."
"What kind of formula?" Bridger asked, frowning. Hitchcock shook her head.
"I'm sorry, sir, it's not my area of expertise. You could ask Dr. Westphalen."
Bridger nodded. "I might just do that."
O'Neill took a deep breath as he prepared to enter the room. He had tried very hard not to hope that Lucas wouldn't come back from the mission, knowing that such a hope put his soul in danger. And when Lucas had come back, he had smothered the tiny flame of disappointment within him. He was determined to be a better person. And this was the first step along the way: to take the hand that had been stretched out to him before he left.
You are not going to run my life, he said to the spectre of fear that had lived within him since the Aleutian engagement, and mentally shoved it as hard as he could, pressing it into a corner. Then he entered the room.
But the bed was empty. He stared in confusion, then looked up as he heard Westphalen's crisp voice: "Can I help you, Lieutenant?"
O'Neill swallowed. "Um, yes, actually, I'm here to see Lucas."
Westphalen's friendly smile faded slightly. "I see. Well, he checked himself out this morning."
"Oh." O'Neill felt somewhat deflated. All his determination seemed to leak out of him. "Is he OK?"
Westphalen frowned. "Well, he's as hard-headed as a rhino, and really could do with learning some manners." Her face softened. "But yes, he's fine."
O'Neill nodded, and turned to go, but turned back when Westphalen spoke again.
"If you do speak to him," she said, "tell him that if he's not back here for a check-up by the end of the day I'll have him back in that bed before you can say 'tranquilizer'. And this time," she added, smiling sweetly, "I'll tie him down."
O'Neill grinned nervously, feeling torn between amusement and terror. As he left, he passed Captain Bridger coming in.
Westphalen shook her head. "Well, it's some kind of instruction manual for constructing a chemical compound, but," she leaned closer to the screen, "some of these elements are highly toxic. This one for example," she pointed to a section of the code, "this has about the same effect as quicklime on the human body." She sat back. "Without all the data it's hard to tell, but it looks like some kind of chemical weapon. Where did this come from?"
Bridger stared at the code. "The UEO," he said, quietly.
When Lucas saw that Krieg was sitting with O'Neill and Ortiz, he almost turned and walked straight back out of the mess hall. But Krieg had seen him and was waving frantically. With a sigh, he made his way to their table. He saw Ortiz nudge O'Neill and Krieg give them both warning looks. Welcome to hell, he thought.
Krieg chattered away as always, and Ortiz put in a pertinent comment here and there. Lucas tried to join in with the conversation, but he was distracted. He was aware the O'Neill was silent, staring at the table. He ate as fast as he could, wanting to get away. He knew that was just a short- term solution, but he had tried to patch it up with the guy before, and didn't feel he had the emotional energy to try again. It's his turn now, he thought, then snorted inwardly. Fat chance.
As he stood up to go, someone said: "Lucas?" He turned. It was O'Neill. He looked pale, but his face was determined.
"I hear you're doing pretty well with the dolphin communication programme," O'Neill said. The two other men stared at him in astonishment.
For a moment, Lucas was speechless. Then he closed his mouth. "Uh, yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "I've just got to programme the language base."
O'Neill nodded. "Well, I'm pretty good with languages," he said. "Maybe I could give you a hand sometime."
For a moment, Lucas just stared at him. Then he recovered his wits. "Yeah," he said, and his voice squeaked slightly in surprise. "Yeah, that'd be cool."
O'Neill smiled unsteadily. "Well, see you around, Lucas," he said.
"Yeah, see you around," Lucas said, and the ghost of a smile grazed the corners of his lips.
Lucas was sitting on the floor with his back against the moon pool rampart, fiddling one-handedly with the vocorder when Bridger found him. Darwin was not in evidence. The young man looked up when he heard Bridger approaching, and his features hardened into the now-familiar mask.
Bridger sat down heavily next to him. "Hey Lucas."
"Captain." Lucas did not look at him and continued to type on the vocorder's makeshift keyboard. The silence stretched out between them.
Eventually Bridger sighed. "I've seen what was on the disk."
Lucas did not react. Bridger wondered if he had even heard him. "I understand why you did what you did," he continued. "I understand it, but that doesn't make it right."
Lucas still didn't speak, but Bridger knew he had his attention: he had stopped tapping on the vocorder.
"You understand that people die in war, don't you Lucas?" Bridger asked, though it seemed like a lame excuse.
Lucas raised his head, although he still didn't look at Bridger. "Oh yes, Captain, I understand that very well," he said bitterly. "I understand it, but that doesn't make it right."
Bridger sighed. You're not making this easy for me, kid, he thought to himself. "Look, Lucas, I have to know that you're going to be loyal to me. I can't have you disobeying orders whenever you feel like it."
"I told you, Captain, I am loyal to you," Lucas said. "But you didn't create that formula."
"Well, let me rephrase," Bridger said, trying not to sound exasperated. "I need to know that you'll be loyal to UEO command, whether they give you orders through me or directly."
Lucas considered this. "I can't promise you that," he said quietly.
"That's what I thought."
Lucas looked down at the vocorder again. "So I guess you want me to leave."
Bridger shook his head. "Leave? Oh, no. I've got something much better in mind for you. I'm going to make you an ensign."
Lucas looked at Bridger for the first time, his head turning sharply, eyes astonished. "An ensign?"
"That's right," Bridger said seriously. "You'll have no more excuse to disobey orders. And I'll have no more get-out clause. Isn't that what you wanted?"
Lucas stared at him. "Um, Captain, don't you think you could give me a higher rank?"
Bridger grinned. "Don't worry, Lucas. If you work hard for a few years, you might make lieutenant." Lucas' mouth dropped open. Bridger clapped him on his good shoulder, standing up. "Congratulations," he said, and left, grinning to himself, leaving Lucas to stare speechlessly after him.