seaQuest, mine? ::sporfle::

Many thanks and general appreciation to: Ihni, Deceiver of Fools, kas, the lurker, Yury, dolphinology, Nina-Maree, Teresa, Diena, sara and pari106. Sorry this one's so long in coming, guys...

Also bah! Once again I must change my notation. Italics are now indicated by ::. Hope you're all taking notes....

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Cabin Fever

Chapter 5

Bridger sighed and looked at his watch again. If the UEO was going to keep him up half the night waiting, they could at least make sure the shuttle was on time. It wasn't like there were tailbacks out there in the ocean. He shot a hopeful glance at the ensign who was on night shift on the shuttle bay, but she shook her head apologetically. "They're not on the scanners yet, sir."

Bridger frowned. The shuttle had been due to arrive twenty minutes before. If they weren't even on the scanners yet, then they were still some distance away. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then gave up and went to sit down on the metal steps that connected the upper level of the bay with the lower. As he reached them, he felt a hand on his arm and turned – but no-one was there. He turned back, feeling slightly sheepish, and sat down on the steps, trying to ignore the odd look the ensign gave him. He rubbed his eyes, wondering how the UEO knew how to install just the frequency of harsh fluorescent light that would be most irritating to a tired and crabby captain, and settled down to wait, thinking longingly of his warm bed.

----

About half an hour later, Bridger was interrupted in his quest to discover exactly how many square holes there were in the grille of the shuttle bay floor by the ensign. "They're onscreen now, sir," she said, looking up from her console. "If they continue at the current course and speed, they should arrive in approximately forty-five minutes."

Bridger did his best imitation of a crisp nod. "Thank you, Ensign," he said. Something flitted across the edge of his vision and he turned his head sharply. Nothing except the glaring fluorescence reflected from the floor. "Did you see something?" he asked, looking back at the ensign.

"No, sir," she said, shaking her head slowly, and looking at him as if he was mad.

Bridger gave an inward sigh. ::Way to go, convince the junior staff that you're insane. You're obviously letting this "haunted base" garbage get to you.:: But he shivered slightly as he remembered Hitchcock's description of Lucas' blank, staring eyes. Putting it out of his mind, he turned back to the floor, and realised with disgust that he had lost count.

----

Some fifty minutes later, Bridger stood with his back straight and tried to hide his impatience as he watched the shuttle bay doors cycle open with what seemed like grinding slowness. He composed his features into what he hoped looked like a sincere smile, and stepped forward, holding out his hand to the tall, thick-set woman who had just exited the shuttle. "Welcome to the ::seaQuest::."

The woman shook his hand firmly, looking him up and down . "You must be Captain Bridger," she said briskly. When Bridger nodded, she continued: "My name is Joanna Marks, I'll be leading the investigation. This is Kaisa Saarinen," she indicated a younger, wispy-looking blonde woman who stood now behind her on the right, "and Steven Ryder." Bridger took it that the skinny, rat-faced man with the dark circles under his eyes who had just struggled up the stairs was Ryder. He nodded at them both, trying to look as welcoming as possible.

"Let me show you to your quarters," he said, already turning to head out of the bay. But Marks frowned in surprise.

"We were told you had six bodies whose deaths needed investigating, Captain."

Bridger turned back, raising his eyebrows slightly. "That's correct, but given your lengthy journey out to the ::seaQuest::, I assumed you would want to rest before going down to the base." The ratty-looking man – Ryder – shot him a grateful glance, but Marks' frown deepened.

"Evidence is being lost even as we speak, Captain," she said in what Bridger would, were he in a slightly more bitter frame of mind, have classified as a reproving tone of voice. "We need to be shown to the bodies as soon as possible."

Bridger smiled slightly. "I'm afraid those people down there have already been dead for several weeks, Ms Marks. Another night isn't going to hurt."

Marks drew herself up to her full height. "Nevertheless," she said, without warmth in her voice.

It was all Bridger could do to stop the forced grin from slipping off his features. He held the woman's stare for a moment, then nodded. "Ensign," he called to the young woman on duty, "could you organise a shuttle and a security team to take Ms Marks and her colleagues down to the base?" The ensign nodded, and Bridger turned back to find Marks still staring at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Security team?" she asked.

Bridger remembered the strange feeling he had had in the shuttle bay earlier, and suppressed a shudder. "Just a precaution," he said.

----

On the way back to his quarters, Bridger passed the Med Bay and paused. On the one hand, he was bone tired and had a shift starting in a few hours. On the other, it would only take a moment to pop in and see how Lucas was doing. After a quick weighing of the options, Bridger stepped inside.

The orderly on duty was sitting in the outer office with his feet up on the table, reading a comic book. When he saw the captain, he straightened up quickly and plastered on a serious look. Bridger grinned.

"I'm not on duty," he said. "I'm just here to check on Lucas. How is he?"

The orderly shrugged. "He's been sleeping all night, sir. You can go and check for yourself, if you want." He indicated the glass office wall, beyond which lay the dimly lit Med Bay with its rows of beds.

Bridger thought for a second, then nodded. "I just might do that," he said, and stepped through the door.

Bridger's footsteps sounded loud in the quiet room, where the only sound was the ever-present humming of the ::seaQuest::'s systems. He walked down the central aisle until he came to the bed were Lucas lay, between two pools of dim light thrown by the overhead lamps. He stood for a moment beside the bed, watching the sleeping boy. His face was serene, his features composed into a peaceful expression. Too peaceful.

Bridger waved his hand quickly between the light and Lucas' face, and for a fraction of a second he saw a dark gleam from under one eyelid. He smiled, and crouched so that his mouth was at the level of Lucas' ear. "I saw you," he whispered.

Lucas opened his eyes properly now, and turned his head to face Bridger. "So what?" he muttered in a low voice. "Now it's a crime to have insomnia?"

Bridger raised his eyebrows. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were angry with me about something. Dr. Westphalen put you in here for your own good, you know."

Lucas rolled his eyes and turned his face towards the ceiling. "I'm ::fine::," he muttered.

"Well, when you get your medical degree I'll consider you capable of making such assessments," Bridger said in what he hoped was a flippant tone. He was suddenly feeling exhausted again. He watched Lucas for a moment as the boy stared determinedly at the ceiling. "Do you want me to ask the orderly to turn off the lights in here so you can get some sleep?"

Lucas' head snapped back round towards him. "No!" he said, his voice echoing in the silence. Bridger stared at him in surprise. "No," Lucas repeated, softly this time. "I'm fine, really."

Bridger rocked backwards on his heels; his legs were beginning to ache. "Do you want to talk about what happened down there, Kiddo?"

For a moment, Lucas' eyes seemed to turn inwards. Then he turned his head away once more. "No," he said in a muffled voice.

Bridger sighed and stood up, shaking out his legs to ease the cramps. He put a hand on Lucas' arm. "I'm here for you if you need me. You know that, don't you?"

Lucas didn't look at him, but nodded. Bridger supposed he would have to be satisfied with that. He sighed again and turned to go, but felt a hand on his arm and looked back, surprised. "You won't tell Dr. Westphalen I couldn't sleep, will you?" Lucas asked, his voice pleading. Bridger smiled slightly and crouched down again.

"It'll be our secret," he said. "Just as long as you promise to tell me if it happens again."

Lucas nodded with a grateful expression.

----

Tom Jensen smiled as he opened the hatch that led to the science lab and flipped on the light. The place was empty; it always was at this time in the morning. It was his favourite time: no distractions, no people fussing about, getting in the way. Plenty of space for him to work.

He frowned as he saw a lab stool overturned in one of the aisles, and reached down to pick it up. He never understood how scientific people could be so messy. For one thing, it was just inconsiderate to clutter up other peoples' workspace.

When he came to the next aisle, though, his frown deepened. He wasn't alone after all. A woman was seated at one of the desks, her head on her arms, sleeping. He recognised her even from behind: Monaghan. ::Figures::, he snorted to himself. ::She hardly ever spends time in here in the daytime anymore. I wondered when she was getting all her work done.:: Shaking his head, he continued to his own desk and sat down to work.

Ten minutes later he sat back with a sigh. He couldn't concentrate. Just knowing Monaghan was there, even though she was asleep, somehow made him nervous. It was as if she could see him sitting there at six in the morning and was filing it away for future reference so she could giggle about him and his lack of a life with all her friends in the mess-hall later. ::The joke's on her, though::, he reminded himself. :: Her samples are due in today, and there's no way she's finished them::. At that moment, something fell to the floor with a clatter in the lab behind him and he turned, startled. But there was nothing there. He sighed again, and leaned back over his work.

By seven o'clock he could no longer bear it. Not only was he being thrown off by the mere fact of her presence, now he had a nagging feeling of guilt as well. Her supervisor would be in in a couple of hours; if he woke her up now, she might have time to finish her samples. ::What do you care::, he thought fiercely. ::It's her own silly fault if she hasn't done them.:: But he knew the feeling wasn't going to go away until he did something about it, so he stood up.

He stopped in surprise once he came within view of the sleeping woman, however; one of the stools in the next aisle lay on the floor. He frowned, and went to pick it up. As he set it straight, he stared at it, astonished. It was the same stool he had picked up when he'd first stepped into the lab. He was sure of it. ::Stools don't just fall over by themselves::, he thought, and looked sharply round. But there was nothing to see; just the empty, brightly lit lab and the sleeping woman. Remembering why he'd stood up in the first place, he went to wake her.

"Monaghan," he said softly, feeling slightly ridiculous as he touched her shoulder. "It's morning. Time to wake up." There was no response. ::Sleeping the sleep of the dead::, he thought, and shook her a little, speaking more loudly. "Monaghan."

Still nothing. Jensen bit his lip, suddenly angry with this silly girl for ruining his morning's work. "Come on, Monaghan," he said loudly, and pulled her back in her chair. Her body slumped backwards, head hanging crooked, dead eyes staring at him. He jumped back in horror, seeing for the first time the pool of blood on the floor under the desk.

"Monaghan," he whispered.