AN: Thanks to those reading and reviewing. I realize the first part was very short, but that won't be the norm. I do tend write stories as novels which means that my readers have to suffer through the introduction to the tale. Sorry! I hope this doesn't turn anyone off to the story, please bare with me.

Also, as far as this story is concerned nothing that occurred in the second and third seasons has or will happen in this one. As for characters borrowed from the second and third seasons, I want to keep their personal/ professional histories as close to cannon as is possible. However, I never bothered to record the last two seasons and so must rely on outside sources such as websites for that information. Things may not be completely accurate so I would appreciate any help from my readers who are more into the last two seasons than I am ( thank you to Kate for the correction to Lonnie's name).

Quotes in bold italics are taken from seaQuest DSV: the Novel by Diane Duane and Peter Morwood. May not fully line up with the telemovie (pilot) of seaQuest as the book was based on an earlier script and not the final one. Some of the history of seaQuest and the UEO given in the novel also incorporated into the Saga and may differ slightly from the series.

All standard disclaimers apply. The Demerol comment is in reference to the Gilmore Girls.

Dedications:

-Jonathan Brandis, I doubt I have to elaborate on that one.

-Stephanie Beacham, who was disappointed in the lack of "humanity" in her character and the series in general. I'm attempting to write Westphalen in a way that she might approve.

-Roy Scheider, who disliked the direction the show took in the second season.

-Michael Ironside, who deserved a better show than what he got.

---All the Questies out there who miss the show as much as I do.

---To my readers of "A Whiter Shade of Pale". Thank you.

Chapter 1: Choosing Sides

The seaQuest encountered her first problem just hours after being wet. At first, he couldn't pinpoint any cause for disturbance. On the surface, everything was running smoothly- far more smoothly than it had the first time they made the voyage. No Stark to deal with. But something still wasn't quite right.

Bridger casually strolled through the ship using observation of his crew settling into their new home as an excuse to search for what was troubling him. His first inkling that a real trouble was brewing came as he witnessed Commander Ford and Lt. Brody's initial meeting dissolve into a heated argument over... well, nothing as far as he could tell. The ex-o and Security Chief parted ways before Bridger reached them. The captain made a mental note to question Ford about the exchange later.

A short time later, a disgruntled Ortiz stalked by without seeing him muttering half in Spanish, half in English something about a roommate, followed by an even unhappier lieutenant whom Bridger didn't recognize also muttering something about "rooming with a jerk".

Bridger watched curiously as several similar scenes took place between old crew members and new. It was a strange thing, he noted, that this crew found it so difficult to gel with one another.

Was it always like this? He wondered. No, this didn't happen the first time. In general, we all got along or at least found someone to relate to. Or did we? Maybe I'm just viewing those memories through rose-colored glasses. Still...

A woman in a white lab coat was heading toward him and subconsciously Bridger quickened his pace, hoping to appear too busy for small talk. He tensed as she slowed her gait; obviously she wanted to talk.

"Doctor." He acknowledged and gave her a sharp nod with a tight smile as he passed. He hurried on not bothering to look back. He had nothing against Wendy Smith, nothing at all. She would be a nice addition to his crew, no doubt, but he found it difficult to accept her as the CMO, even on a temporary basis. He had spoken with her briefly during their initial meeting and could tell she was eager and enthusiastic about many things as he had discovered in the no more than five minutes they had talked. A subject she was particularly smitten with seemed to be parapsychology and, while an interesting topic no doubt, Bridger found his mind wandering as she spoke to his first encounter with another CMO.

"That's it! Enough! Let's get something clear shall we? My people will not be treated like so much- cargo. We are scientists, capable of independent thought- not mindless military drones-"

Ford didn't give an inch: his eyes narrowed and right back into the woman scientist's face, he said, "Your point, Doctor?"

"Your people have occupied areas clearly designated as research laboratories. I want them removed immediately!"

"May I remind you, Doctor, that you are aboard a military vessel. And your orders are to-"

"Orders? I don't take orders! This is a research and exploration vessel. Besides, we outnumber you. One hundred and twenty-four to eight-eighty."

"That sounds like a threat."

"Well, at least you have a grasp of the obvious!"

"Understand this-"

"Don't you point your finger at me-!"

Nathan couldn't keep it in any longer. He had been watching in silent hilarity up until now, but that last bit of business broke the dam. He started to laugh- and immediately the scientist whirled on him, discarding her old argument in favor of a refreshing new one.

"You find this amusing?"

Dr. Smith's voice had broken through his reverie, questioning him about the nature of her position and her predecessor. While unable to provided her with any more information regarding of the length of her stay than Noyce, Bridger found himself unwilling to discuss the former CMO in the personal manner that Dr. Smith wanted and hastily extracted himself from the conversation. Luckily, his attention had been needed elsewhere anyway.

"Captain Bridger." A young lieutenant jogged up next to him with a PADD in hand. "If you have a moment, sir, your confirmation of the manifest is needed."

"Yes, of course," he murmured, taking the PADD from the officer.

His eyes automatically scanned the manifest searching for that one name. The same name he had looked for not an hour before. The name that was never there no matter how often he checked.

J. Westfield

I. Westing

J. Westinghouse

K. Westphalen

A. Yaun

R. Yount

Bridger was about to release a heavy sigh when his eyes caught on the name. He read it again in disbelief. Rather than exhaling, he inhaled sharply and quickly signed off on the manifest.

It took everything in him to maintain his cool as he made his way to C-deck all the while seething that Noyce had not informed him that K. Westphalen had been located and come aboard.

C-deck was a hub of controlled chaos as personnel attempted to sort through paperwork and organize work stations. Bridger caught a of glimpse of Darwin watching the flurry with curiosity before ducking beneath the water of his pool and swimming off, no doubt in search of a quieter place.

It was nearly impossible to tell who was and wasn't on the deck as it seemed the whole science department was present. Bridger searched the crowd for a familiar face- any familiar face- but that face didn't seem to exist. As he tried to move to a safer place- a place he was less likely to be stepped on- he saw Dr. Joshua Levin, who was having his own difficulty maneuvering through the throng. At least he recognized someone! Eventually though,he had to resort to calling "Kris" into the fray.

His query was met without so much as a glance in his direction.

"Dr. Westphalen!" he called again, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

"Yes?"

Bridger turned slowly in the direction of the British- accented baritone voice close by.

What the-?

The captain suddenly felt very lightheaded as he stared at the man who answered. The doctor regarded him with quizzical amusement.

I know this guy, Bridger thought distractedly, trying to make sense of the memories, both real and dreamed, that bombarded him. I know this guy... but who is he? After a moment, the dreams evaporated, leaving behind what wasreal and leaving the Captain highly annoyed with himself.

An entertained smirk broke out over the man's strong features. "I'm not the Kris Westphalen you're looking for am I?"

"No," Bridger sounded a bit dazed. "No, sorry.."

"You all right, Nathan?" The doctor arched his eyebrows, studying the other man with some concern.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, still looking shaken. "It just that, well, for some reason I thought you were," his voice trailed off a bit as he tried to capture the name. "Hudson.. Oliver Hudson?"

The man considered this for moment. "Never heard of him- is he military?"

Bridger gave him a half-nod, half-shrug, wondering if he was on the verge of a breakdown.

"I don't really follow the career of those types, you know," he said, the smirk returning.

Running his hand through his hair, the Captain let out a sigh-encircled laugh. Of course, he knew the doctor, what had he been thinking? He had been introduced to Kristopher Westphalen by the former CMO during the last shore leave of the first tour and the two had remained friends over the last few years.

Bridger grimaced a bit, then dismissed his own comment with a wave of his hand. "I'm sorry, Kris, I'm running on little sleep here."

It was a dream, Bridger! Get a hold of yourself!

"I understand," the doctor returned to setting up his station. "But you can't tell me you weren't disappointed to see me."

"No, no. I am glad to see you. Really. Between you and Joshua, you're the only familiar faces I've seen in the science department."

Kristopher Westphalen nodded. "I should have contacted you and let you know I was coming. I only got the call yesterday morning and had to hustle to get here. I assumed Admiral Noyce would tell you. I guess he didn't."

"No, he didn't." Bill's going to get it the next time I see him, Bridger mildly swore to himself. Then to the doctor he said, "You're going to be here the whole tour, right?"

Kristopher nodded. "As far as I know."

"Good." The nagging sense that was plaguing him eased up a bit. He rubbed his knuckle absently under his chin, his mind on other things. He glanced up to see the doctor watching him sympathetically. He knew Kristopher could probably guess what he was thinking about. "So what do you think of our head doctor?"

Kristopher shrugged casually. "She's not quite as science-minded as I'd like, but I think she'll do fine."

"That's a kind of a bland opinion, Kris. I've never known you to have a bland opinion on anything."

Kristopher's laughter was deep and jovial. "I barely know the woman. Give it a day or two then ask me again. I can tell you, though, I'm going to get on better with the CMO than I expected- I was anticipating working under someone else."

"Oh?"

Kristopher look at Bridger curiously. "My sister never told you about the time we worked together at Orpheus Island and how disastrous that was?"

Bridger chuckled. "Now that you mention it I do remember her saying something about how impossible you were."

Kristopher held his hands up defensively. "For the record, I was not the impossible one- it was Krissy."

"She absolutely hates being called that," Bridger's smirk was tinged with a bit of sadness.

"I know," Kristopher's eyed gleamed mischievously. "I believe that was one the reasons she cited in her transfer request."

The light mood diminished as Bridger, immersed in his own thoughts again, grew silent.

"How is she is, Kris?"

The humor disappeared from the man's features and the expression in his eyes became indecipherable. "Fine as far I know, Nathan. She doesn't contact me much, either."

Bridger nodded, not feeling any better with that knowledge.

After leaving Kristopher Westphalen to his work, Bridger made his way back to the bridge with an unsettled feeling still nagging him. Perhaps he was still anticipating something going terribly wrong to begin this tour, or perhaps it was...

"Captain on the bridge!" Commander Ford announced. He stepped up to meet the Captain as he walked onto the bridge.

"Smooth sailing so far," Ford commented, looking a little less peeved than when Bridger last saw him.

"Don't jinx us, Commander," he replied, clapping a hand on the shoulder of his first officer.

The commander nodded, a small smile played on his lips for a moment before fading into uncertainty. "Sir?"

Bridger glanced at his ex-o questioningly, a bit worried by the expression on the younger man's face.

"What is it?"

"Sir, I saw the manifest earlier. Is-?"

The captain shook his head. "No. Her brother is on board as head of the science department and geological oceanography specialist."

Surprise registered in Ford's eyes. "Oh," he responded lamely. As he folded his arms over his waist, he frowned slightly. "I wasn't aware that she had a brother other than James."

"She has two other brothers, actually. Kris is the only one I've met, though."

"Chris, huh?" Ford mulled the information over. "Then why does the manifest list him as K. Westphalen?"

"Because it's Kris with a K."

"Oh, well that wouldn't be confusing at all if they were both on board or anything," he commented humorlessly.

Bridger chuckled. "Apparently, their mother had a wicked sense of humor."

"She did that on purpose?" the Commanderwas baffled and didn't bother to hide it.

"Well, either that or it was the Demerol talking."

Ford shrugged as though to say "whatever" and shifted his stance. He still had something weighty on his mind.

"Say, Commander," Bridger leaned against the captain's chair and regarded his first officer with curiosity. "What was going on with you and Lt. Brody earlier? I saw that less that than friendly exchange between you two."

"The guy's an arrogant jerk, sir," the commander's face hardened into a deep scowl. "Walks around with some kind of chip on his shoulder. I'd really like to knock it off."

"Try hard not to, okay? The last thing Ineed is a civil war breaking out on my ship. I don't think the tension is just between you and the Lieutenant."

"Of course, sir. I'd never actually do anything- I was just thinking about it." he paused a beat before adding confidentially. "I wish Crocker could have been coaxed out of retirement."

"As do I, but he deserves it after all these years."

"I know," Ford's face softened a bit. "I don't know why I'm having a hard time adjusting to the changes around here. It's ridiculous. Crews change all the time, it's not like this is unusual. I've never been bothered by it before."

"I know what you mean, Jonathan," Bridger sympathized with a sigh. "I know what you mean."

That evening Bridger decided to join his crew in the mess hall for dinner with hopes of getting to know some of the new additions. The sight that greeted him was disconcerting to say the least. There might as well have been a thick white line running down the middle of the mess hall for there was a clear divide between the crew. On one side huddled Ortiz, O'Neill, Hitchcock, Krieg, and several others from the first tour while Brody, Smith, a seaman named Piccolo, and a handful of others occupied the other side of the room with plenty of room between. Both sides talked quietly amongst each other every so often pausing to throw a suspicious, dark glance at the opposing side.

How did this happen? Bridger wondered worriedly. Why?

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