Chapter 19: "Good Lies and Bad"
31 January 2024
Somehow or another, Captain Bridger had succeeded in convincing the brass that seaQuest's crew should get two days off—or maybe he just hadn't told them that he intended to cut everyone loose. After spending an extra day underway and finishing most of the testing by accident during the battle at Alfin Ridge, the remaining days of sea trials had been cancelled. The crew had spent the next week working with the shipyard to fix everything that hadn't worked right, a process that had, much to their surprise, gone rather smoothly. The boat still had more than her share of hiccups—and flushing the toilet nearest to the wardroom still caused the galley to flood—but seaQuest was beginning to shape up.
And anything that led to them getting two consecutive days off rather approached being a miracle, in Miguel's opinion. Especially since he didn't have duty on one of them, unlike poor Tim.
"They're still talking about it on the news?" he asked with a sigh, gesturing at the TV.
Tim sighed. "Apparently, there's nothing better to put on the news. But when you get down to it, at least it's good news for the UEO. We won. For once."
"The UEO won, you mean," Katie said, throwing their operations officer a pointed look.
"Isn't that what I said?"
Only Tim could look so innocent without even trying. Of course, none of them could mention that seaQuest had won the 'incident' at Alfin Ridge. That fact, along with the boat's existence, was still classified. I'm not sure who the brass thinks they're fooling right now, but I'm just a lowly warrant officer. What do I know about security? Miguel thought to himself, shrugging. "I suppose."
The bar the three of them had chosen was almost empty—but they'd come in at two in the afternoon, beating the evening rush. The food was good even if the place was a dive, and at least the bartender didn't care when Miguel grabbed the remote to change the channel to something more interesting than EarthCast News.
Unfortunately, day time television had never been known for being high quality, so he finally gave up in disgust on the channel surfing, leaving it on some animal show. He shoved the remote towards the middle of the table. "At least we don't have people hounding after us every second," he said, trying to find some sort of positive.
"That'll last about five seconds once word gets around," Tim replied, scowling.
"If word gets around," Katie countered. "I doubt the brass is really planning on letting the cat out of the bag at this point."
"Oh, because no one else knows." Tim rolled his eyes. "Of course people will find out. They always do."
"They'll try, though," Miguel said. "But until then, I'm going to sit here and enjoy my beer and watch some... whatever this is we're watching," he added, gesturing towards the screen where some crazy naturalist was in a tree with a set of night vision goggles.
"Can't you at least find something with marine mammals?" Tim complained. "Then we might at least learn something useful. Mr. Smartypants here guy is going to fall out of that tree and be eaten by lions any minute now."
Miguel grinned. "That's what I'm hoping for."
"Oh. Well, when you put it that way, don't change the channel. I'm betting on the lions—they look hungry."
Katie rolled her eyes. "Will you boys ever grow up?"
"No, ma'am," he replied promptly. "Besides, think of all the fun you'd be missing out on if we were acting all mature and responsible."
"And you were the one who married Ben Krieg," Tim pointed out reasonably. "Compared to him, we're senior citizens."
She glared. "That was a low blow. Do I need to mention your crush on—"
"No! Not at all," Tim cut her off hurriedly. "That doesn't need mentioning. Not at all. Never again."
Miguel was intrigued. "You can't just tease a guy like that and then not let me in on the juicy gossip," he told the commander. "Who does Little Timmy have a crush on?"
"Had. Had is the operative word. This was years ago, and our wonderful XO here wouldn't even know about it if Commander—I mean, Captain—Ford hadn't told her about it. It was back when NORPAC still owned seaQuest. And it was only for a little while. Like, a week." Only Tim O'Neill could get that many words out in three seconds—Miguel was half surprised that he understood a word of it. But yes...Tim's ears were decidedly pink.
Miguel wracked his brain, trying to remember all the female officers the first seaQuest had, and kept coming back to one. "Tim...please tell me you didn't have a crush on Captain Stark."
"No!" Tim's eyes bulged. "God, no! That woman terrified me."
He heaved a dramatic sigh of relief. "Anyone but her, I can probably understand and forgive. So who was it?"
"She wasn't even on seaQuest. She was the Commo on Bruno. They used to be berthed near us." Tim was definitely red now.
"And she dumped him—though I'll give Tim this, she did go out with him once—for some burly surfer," Katie finished the story, making Tim slouch in his chair miserably.
Miguel snorted. "You should look her up and see what she's doing now and console yourself with the fact that you're here with us. And who wouldn't want to be here with us?"
Tim snorted. "Anyone sane."
"Fortunately, that's not a problem any of us are burdened with," Katie laughed, finishing her beer and gesturing for another one. She sighed, but her expression was content. "Wow. It's good to have a day off."
"I'll drink to that," Miguel said, drinking down the last of his own beer.
Tim, as usual, was still nursing his first drink, and did not follow suit. However, Miguel almost spit out that last gulp when he caught sight of the nature freak nearly getting mauled by a hippopotamus while trying to cross a stream using his night vision goggles. "Look at this idiot," he said to the others, laughing.
"Wow. That's bad, even for these shows," Tim agreed.
"Everyone knows you can only see surface temperatures of water with IR goggles like that," Miguel scorned.
"Not everybody. I didn't know that," Tim said with a shrug. "Why wouldn't they be able to get a heat signature through the water? Isn't that how those things are supposed to work?"
"Nah, the infrared radiation usually can't pass through the water's absorption spectrum," Miguel replied.
"Why not?" Tim asked, sounding only partially interested.
"Well, everything that's got any sort of temperature, even if it's just a few degrees above absolute zero, gives off infrared radiation. The hotter it is, the more radiation you get. The radiation is at a wavelength that corresponds with where water can absorb it," he explained. "Depending on the temperature, it might be able to get through—like using IR to see through fog. But underwater, it's damn near useless."
"Not necessarily," the XO argued. "You said it yourself, it all depends on the absorption spectrum of the water and the wavelength of the infrared radiation."
"With all due respect, Commander, I know a thing or two about this. They wanted to use infrared to link the WSKRs to the boat," Miguel said.
Katie got that little displeased frown on her face that he knew all too well from their first tour. Good job, Ortiz, now you've pissed her off. "With all due respect, Mr. Ortiz, I know a thing or two about this too. My senior project at the Academy was on blackbody radiation."
"Hey...uh, guys," Tim interjected quietly. "Play nicely. We're at a bar. Not at work. You can stop poking one another with formal titles."
Miguel waved a hand at Tim, barely hearing what he had to say. "Look, you'd need to have something being ridiculously hot to ensure the wavelength coming off it would not correspond with an absorbance peak."
"Or ridiculously hot in comparison to its surroundings. If you calibrated an IR sensor to the right wavelengths, you'd be able to see just fine under water," Katie countered.
"If they could do that, why are we still using sonar?" Miguel challenged.
"Because no one wants to spend the time or the money to develop something new when we've already got something that works. Most of the time," Katie replied.
"Hey!" Miguel protested. "My WSKRs work ninety-nine percent of the time!"
"More like eighty," Tim interjected.
Miguel shot him a dark look. "I thought you were on my side."
"Why do I have to be on a side?" Tim asked, looking mystified. "You guys are speaking a language I don't understand. Anyone want some nachos?"
"Well at least we finally found one language you don't understand," Miguel groused. "But look, sonar works ninety-nine percent of the time. And you said it yourself, Commander. No one feels the need to develop something new."
Glancing between the two argumentative faces, Tim stood up, clearly deciding that this wasn't a fight he wanted to be in the middle of. "I'll just go get those nachos..." Tim trailed off, and headed over to the other end of the bar to talk to the bartender.
"Not even for that one percent of the time? Like when you can't seem to get a sonar fix on those Macronesian subs?" Katie suggested, a gleam in her eyes.
Miguel opened his mouth to reply before snapping it back shut again. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"You know how the captain feels about research and development," she said, starting to smirk.
"We don't even know if it's possible," Miguel objected, trying to play the devil's advocate, even as he started thinking through equations in his head.
"At least we can try. And in the meantime, you can have one of your subordinates spend all their time listening to those sonar tapes. Fresh ears, and all that," Katie wheedled.
Ah, hell. At least it'll be an interesting project! Still, he couldn't resist grinning before he asked: "Should we tell the captain before we get it figured out, or after?"
"There's a Captain Ford here for you, sir," the guard at the shipyard's entry control point said over the comm.
Smiling, Nathan put down the report he'd been reading. Giving Jonathan a tour was definitely more fun than reading another construction report, especially since he'd been at this one for almost an hour. Not that it wasn't important, but…almost all of his attention was focused on seaQuest's preparations for commissioning, and it was hard to pay attention to something else. "I'm on my way."
The walk from his cabin on the boat to the ECP was a relatively short one; he'd left Jonathan's name with the guards at the first security checkpoint, though it was impossible to get through the second one without a shipyard badge. Soon enough, seaQuest would return to the original boat's underwater berth, but until then, they were sheltered in the shed at Building Slip 4A, which continued to keep visitors off of the boat. On one hand, Nathan was grateful for the quiet, but on the other…well, it did make bringing people on board difficult, even if he wanted them there.
Of course, heading down to meet Jonathan meant he had to endure the salutes of every MP at the ECP, but that was life. Nathan had intentionally tried to ignore certain bits and pieces of military discipline when he was busy playing scientist, but these days, that simply wasn't an option. At least Jonathan wasn't going to salute him now that they were both captains, though he could see the other man's smile and just knew he was contemplating it.
"It's good to see you, Jonathan," he greeted his old XO, shaking hands with him. "How was your trip into Pearl?"
"Uneventful—just the way I like it," he replied. "Yours?"
"Much the same, thankfully, though I do think that your Suppo's generous contributions averted a mutiny," he grinned. "I had some extremely grouchy contractors on board by the time we got in."
"Glad we could help."
"Shall we?" he gestured Jonathan towards the ugly concrete building.
His grin was huge. "Of course."
They walked down the pier together, past the three different pallet trucks and various pieces of equipment owned by the several dozen contractors still working on board. Most of them ignored the two captains, though Ben did pause in the argument he was having with two shore side supply lieutenants in order to salute both of them. Guiltily, both lieutenants did the same a moment later, and Bridger had a feeling that Ben planned to use that against them momentarily.
Better to stay out of that one, he thought to himself. There are some questions I know better than to ask Ben Krieg.
He snorted to himself. Learned that one the hard way, I did.
"I see he's up to his usual tricks," Jonathan commented, sounding amused.
"Yeah, he is. Then again, I really did expect that when I sprung him out of the brig," Nathan replied with a smile.
That got him a confused look, and then Ford shook his head. "You know, I don't even want to know. He's not my problem anymore, and for that I can only be thankful."
Bridger chuckled. "Why do you think I asked for Katie as my XO? I knew she could handle him—and more importantly, she enjoys making him miserable sometimes. Much more than you ever did."
"No, no, I enjoyed making Ben plenty miserable. I just didn't like when he made me miserable," Jonathan corrected him.
They exchanged grins again, and then Nathan changed the subject, gesturing ahead. "As you can see, we're still holed up inside the floating dry dock," he told Jonathan. "We'll be moving her pierside for Commissioning on the twenty-fifth, but until then, we'll keep her hidden as much as we can."
"Seems reasonable enough."
He tried not to frown. "Most of the time, yeah."
"Enjoy it while you can, right?" Jonathan asked with another grin, knowing Nathan well enough to know how the security restrictions grated on him. It wasn't that Nathan didn't understand the need for them; he just was sick to death of having to deal with them.
The drydock inside the building slip was still flooded, which meant they had to head in via the brow, which was technically a tube that ran from the outside of the drydock through the hydrosphere, and from there joined up to one of the launch connections in lieu of a vehicle. The messenger of the watch was stationed at the bottom of the ladder leading upwards into the launch bay, and as soon as the two of them came into sight, Nathan spotted him lifting his radio.
A moment later, the traditional call rang out, one that could still send shivers down Nathan's spine.
Ding ding, ding ding. "seaQuest, arriving," the OOD's voice announced over the 1MC.
Any captain in the Navy was "bonged aboard" under the name of his or her ship, and Nathan could still remember the very first time he'd heard himself referred to as such, way back on USS Seawolf. But now, with seaQuest…the feeling was something else entirely. Every time he stepped onboard his boat, she still took his breath away.
He headed up the ladder, and the moment his foot landed on the deck, the final stroke of the bell came—ding. That was the "stinger", which only the embarked commander of a ship received on his own vessel. A moment later, as Jonathan's head appeared, the second announcement came:
Ding ding, ding ding. "Atlantis, arriving."
"I never get tired of that," Jonathan said softly, echoing Nathan's own thoughts.
"Me neither, even if I'm supposed to be old enough to know better."
"Welcome back, Captain," Lonnie Henderson greeted him. She was the OOD at the moment, and saluted them both with a precision that Oliver Hudson must have adored.
"Thank you, Ms. Henderson," he replied, returning the gesture much more casually. Then he turned to Jonathan. "Well, where do you want to start?"
"Might as well start at the bridge." The other captain tried to sound nonchalant, but his eyes were filled with anticipation.
Nathan nodded, and they headed that way. He kept his mouth shut, allowing his former second-in-command to look around and get his bearings—this boat was much like the first two seaQuests in appearance, although the differences were easily apparent to someone who had known both as well as Jonathan had. Several minutes of walking later, however, the inevitable question came:
"MagLev broken?"
"What MagLev?" he replied with a grin.
"You got rid of the MagLev? What, people getting too fat and lazy?" Jonathan asked, teasing.
Nathan laughed. "Not quite, though that did occur to me. She's only a thousand feet long, after all—well, one thousand and fifty-seven—and it's not that hard to get around." He gestured at one of the access hatches that corresponded to one of the old MagLev stops. "The real answer is that I couldn't figure out how to shoehorn both a MagLev and the new Torpedo Handling System into this great big hull, and I wasn't going to make her any fatter just to add an item of convenience."
"How much space does your THS take up?" Jonathan asked, giving him a funny look. Of course, most boats had a very simple handling system that just transferred torpedoes from the weapons room to the tubes, so the other captain had a right to be mystified. Even the first seaQuest had only possessed one torpedo room and one set of tubes—though in Nathan's original design, she had had two, right up until the second one had been converted into science labs.
"A lot." He tried not to roll his eyes; the damn thing had been his idea, and it was necessary. Nathan really just didn't like the way the contracting team had implemented the THS, but there was nothing they could do about that now. "We've got three separate torpedo rooms on this big lady, and getting the torps from one to another can be a real bitch."
"Three?" Jonathan asked. Then he chuckled. "You never did do anything in half measures."
Nathan shrugged. "When you design a boat to take hits, you have to assume you'll get smacked a time or two. Sooner or later, someone gets lucky and takes out your torpedo tubes, and then what? With a boat this big, I could afford to put eight tubes forward, midships, and aft. Losing the MagLev is rather minor in comparison to losing the ability to shoot back, after all."
"I'll grant you that much. Still, I'm glad I don't have to worry about running up and down the length of your boat. I'll stick with Atlantis and my nice, short walk from my cabin to the bridge," the junior captain said.
Not for long, you won't, Nathan thought to himself, but resisted the urge to say anything tantalizing. He'd save that for later.
"Speaking of which, here we are," he said with a chuckle, leading the way though the clamshell doors.
They stopped not far behind the captain's chair, and Nathan let Jonathan look around, absorbing everything. For his part, he let his eyes conduct a quick once-over of the space; it was one of the few compartments that were completely finished, and it was off limits to contractors now that everything had been installed. Most of the consoles were off-line, except for those currently used to monitor the few systems running on the boat, but since seaQuest was on what the Navy called shore power and was not creating her own electricity, almost nothing was running.
She's ready, Bridger told himself with just a touch of pride. She may not be pretty in some places, but she's ready to roll.
And heaven help Macronesia the next time they tangle with us.
"You stuck with the newer bridge design, I see," Jonathan commented.
"Yeah. The first one had a lot of wasted space, though it was designed that way to allow us to put upgrades in when needed, but we really can't afford that, nowadays. You've probably noticed the lack of windows, though—this bridge is a lot closer to the centerline than the one in the second design."
"I never did really understand that window you had planned for the second boat, but I always chalked it up to a scientist thing," was the teasing response.
"It is a scientist thing. We always want to see everything. For a research vessel, it's even a good idea. But not for a warship."
Jonathan went and stood behind the XO's workstation, left and forward from the captain's chair. "Katie must love this."
"Katie loves everything mechanical. You know that." Nathan grinned again and gestured towards engineering. "Although my Chief Engineer has threatened to cut her fingers off a few times," he joked.
He chuckled. "I bet."
"Fortunately, Brad's a crusty old limited duty officer, so he's dealt with worse. And he's a brilliant engineer, so they do get along well."
"Still, you're both braver men than I am, to tell Katie Hitchcock she can't play in engineering anymore."
Nathan laughed again. He'd forgotten how much he missed Jonathan's sense of humor, or the easy rapport they'd developed over the first tour. Katie was an excellent XO, but the two of them still had a ways to go before they approached the relationship he'd shared with Jonathan, who had been by far the best XO Nathan had ever had, despite some stiff competition. He and Katie would get there, of course, but at the moment, he half wished he could have just yanked Jonathan out of Atlantis and stolen him back.
But the Navy didn't work that way, and soon enough, there'd be a different boat waiting for Jonathan, which meant Nathan really couldn't claim him now.
"C'mon," he said, leading Jonathan through the rest of the boat for a tour that took a little over two hours. While they did so, a pile of paperwork was piling up on his desk, but Bridger knew it could wait. When he did head back to his cabin, it was with Jonathan in tow, and he only moved the pile to a nearby shelf. With the crew on holiday, it was all routine paperwork, anyway, and the Command Duty Officer would have called him if anything crucial came up.
"I've got something to show you," he told his old XO with a smile.
"Oh?" Jonathan asked.
Nathan called up his computer, hitting a few keys and inputting several passwords, hating security all the while. Speaking as the system recognized his identity and started calling up files and trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, he asked: "So, when are you due to rotate off Atlantis?"
"Beginning of the fall," Jonathan replied. "Why? Want me to take over here?"
He could tell from the tone that Ford was teasing him, although Nathan couldn't miss the undercut of hope in his voice, either. Let's see what I can't do about that. He hit the final key, transferring the plans he'd called up onto the big screen on his cabin's wall. Immediately, the design for another submarine popped up, one that resembled seaQuest a great deal, despite being 250 feet shorter and somewhat sleeker looking.
Nathan didn't bother to answer the question; he just let Jonathan look at the design for several long moments.
"That's not seaQuest," Jonathan said softly, moving to look more closely at the plans.
"No, she isn't. She's not done yet, though she's due to commission next December." Bridger had a hard time restraining his own smile, watching Jonathan's eyes devour the smaller sub's lines.
"And you're showing her to me...why? I mean, not that I'm complaining or anything, but I also don't want to be jumping to any conclusions," Jonathan said, clearly forcing himself to be cautious.
"Her name will be seaStrike," Nathan replied obliquely. "Building a boat like seaQuest takes a long time, when you start worrying about combat redundancies and taking out the scientific spaces, but we'll be able to punch out one of these babies in less than a year. The lead boat is taking a bit longer, due to R&D, but not much. She was only laid down a few months ago."
Jonathan just stared at him, and he finally took pity on the younger man.
"Strangely enough, when they asked me for a recommendation on who should command seaStrike, your name came up. I can't imagine why."
"Neither can I," Jonathan said dryly. He only managed to last another moment before a grin split his face again. "And what did they say to that?"
"You won't see official orders until August or September at the earliest, and they're likely to say something like Project 'Stingray' or 'Anzio' or whatever creative thing the security types think of next," he answered. "But she's yours, if you want her."
"I think I'll pass and wait for the second one," was the immediate response, with the dry tone back again in typical Jonathan fashion.
He couldn't resist the laugh. "That's what I figured." But then he couldn't resist poking a bit: "Should I tell them to give her to Hudson, then?"
Jonathan blanched. "No. Anyone but him."
"Clancy, maybe?"
"I haven't had the...ah...pleasure, of working with her directly yet. Surely she can't be worse than Oliver, though," Jonathan replied.
"Oh, yes she can," Nathan replied, trying not to scowl. He disliked speaking ill of fellow captains, but Marissa Clancy was a real piece of work. Sometimes she reminded him of Marilyn Stark, only without the utter brilliance. "She's worse."
Jonathan frowned. "I'll take your word on that one."
"No matter. A boat like this isn't meant for someone who will get her shot up on the first go-round, anyway, and you'd better take good care of her," he warned, trying to sound ominous. The effort failed, but Jonathan got the idea.
"I think I can manage that," the other man promised.
"You'd better. The shipyard is affectionately calling her seaQuest's little sister, and it'd be nice to have you out there with us when I start to do really stupid things."
"You, do stupid things, sir? Never. They must have you confused with someone else."
Bridger only laughed. "So, do you want to see her, or not? She's in the slip next door."
Jonathan's eyes lit up. "Can we?"
"Come on. I'll introduce you to her Project Manager, Captain Noel. I designed the boat, but Noel has brought her along from keel laying, and she's a good sort. You'll like her," Nathan answered, standing up.
Before he left, however, Bridger was careful to exit out of the design program and lock it back down. He didn't really expect some random hacker to make it past Lucas' security and start poking around on seaQuest, but seaStrike was even more of a secret than her older sister was…at this point, anyway.
"I don't suppose I can get a copy of those plans too, can I?"
The answer to that should have been no, but Nathan had never been really good at playing by every rule. "How good is the security on your network?" he asked. "Do you have a hole no one on board can get into but you?"
Jonathan looked disappointed. "I guess that's a no, then."
Fortunately, Nathan had an answer for that one—because it would benefit the UEO in the long run if Jonathan had a good chance to get to know his future command. "I'll send Lucas over and have him set something up for you."
"Lucas?"
"Yeah, Lucas. You know, obnoxious kid, computer geek. That Lucas."
"He helping with your workups?" Jonathan asked.
"That's one way to put it. He's my EWO." Nathan looked at his old XO with a bit of surprise. "No one told you he joined the Navy?"
"He what? You're joking, right?"
He snorted. "No, though that was my reaction when he showed up on my doorstep and told me a few months back."
Jonathan looked like he didn't quite believe him. "Okay then..."
"I'll send him over. It'll be a few days, though. He's not on duty, and I gave the crew a few days off to unwind. We've got Commissioning in twenty-six days, so it's probably the last chance they're going to get until then," he explained. "Now, how about going to see your next command?"
1 February 2024
"Look, Officer…" Tony squinted at the man's name plate. "Wantababe." He snorted a little. That's a heck of a name. Glad it ain't mine.
Then again, it could be a load of fun.
"Watanabe," the police officer snapped. Whoops.
"Watanabe. Right, sorry. I'm dyslexic, you know, can't always read right," Tony said.
"You're drunk, sailor," Watanabe said, twisting Tony's arms around behind his back.
"Hey, hey, watch it there, pal! I ain't that drunk you can get away with police brutality," Tony complained. "I apologized for the name thing. You can't just go around beatin' a guy up just 'cause he's got a disability, you know. I got rights, too."
"You're absolutely correct. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," Watanabe told him. Tony instinctively tried to jerk away from the police officer's grip on his arms.
"Now wait a minute! You can't just arrest me! I ain't done nothin' wrong! I ain't goin' back to jail on no trumped up charges, either!" Tony protested, feeling himself sober up almost instantly.
"Back to jail?" Watanabe asked, zeroing right in on what Tony had said. Way to go, Piccolo, lettin' your mouth run away from you again.
"Look, officer, no one's pressin' any charges against me, you can't just arrest me!" he said, trying to change the subject. "I was just sittin' there tryin' to have a drink, and this guy comes up to me and tries to start somethin'. I couldn't just sit there an' let him beat me up, could I? If anything, I should be the one pressin' charges!"
"You keep this up, and I'll add resisting arrest to your charges of drunk and disorderly," Watanabe threatened.
Oh shit. You've gone an' done it this time.
Tony stopped his desperate attempts to get out of the cuffs, knowing it would only make things worse if he didn't. I might be dumb as a brick, but I ain't stupid enough to keep diggin' in this hole.
"That's better," the police officer said, finishing rattling off Tony's Miranda rights to him as he led him out of the bar towards the waiting cruiser.
"I gotta make a phone call," Tony said as he was ducked into the back seat.
"You'll get your phone call back at the station," Watanabe's partner said from the passenger seat.
Tony twisted in the back seat, trying to find a comfortable position with his arms behind his back, trying to ignore the twisting feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with the couple of beers he'd had to drink.
Chief Shan is gonna kill me for sure, this time.
Knock. Knock.
"Yeah?"
Typically, Bridger didn't even look up until Crocker spoke, his nose buried in some book or another and his reading glasses slipping down his nose. The captain loved to pretend that he was a harmless scientist, and though he got to play that role less often these days, Crocker still caught him at it from time to time.
"You got a moment, Cap?" he asked, stepping through the open hatch.
Bridger looked up. "Of course I do, Chief. Come on in, and have a seat."
Closing the door behind himself, Crocker moved to the seat across from his CO. He was technically a Master Chief, but to most of the original seaQuest's crew, he'd always just be Chief. Heck, he had been a Senior Chief for most of his tour on the old boat, and he'd never minded them just calling him "Chief" then, either. Besides, he and Bridger went even further back, and as far as Crocker was concerned, the captain could call him whatever he damn well pleased. He sat down, smiling despite the situation.
"We've got a problem, sir," he said, going straight to the point.
"Only one?"
Crocker snorted, appreciating the reference to their first tour together and the half-dozen 'problem-children' they'd had to deal with. "Chief Shan got a call from the Honolulu P.D. Apparently, Seaman Piccolo was arrested for drunk and disorderly last night."
"Great." Bridger's smile vanished.
"He and some civilian got in a bar fight, and it went downhill from there," Crocker continued.
"How bad were the damages?"
Bridger's tone was reasonable, even calm, but Crocker had worked with the captain long enough to know that young Piccolo would soon regret his drunken escapades. I suppose that even on a handpicked crew, you're gonna get some bad apples, the Master Chief thought to himself. At least he's young. A good metaphorical walloping from the Old Man at Captain's Mast will probably set him straight, and if not, it'll serve as a warning to the rest of the would-be troublemakers. He cleared his throat.
"Dunno." Crocker shrugged. "That's not the problem, Cap. The bar was owned by some uncle of Piccolo's or somethin', so no one is pressing charges. Problem is, the police are refusing to turn him over to the Navy."
"What?" The surprise in the captain's voice was understandable; usually, local police were more than ready to turn miscreant sailors back over to their commands, knowing that the Navy would deal with the wrongdoer in their own creative way. That maxim only held true for minor crimes, of course, but the Honolulu P.D. had a long and comfortable understanding with the U.S. Navy for just that reason.
"They wouldn't say why, either," the COB continued as storm clouds gathered in Bridger's expression. "But the duty sergeant told Chief Shan not even to bother coming down to the station."
"You have any theories?" The reading glasses were off by now; the casual scientist had been replaced by the ticked off captain.
"Honestly? From what Chief Shan said, I think they're a mite offended that a 'mere' chief contacted them, Cap. I was thinking about asking one of the junior officers to come down with me and see if talking to an officer doesn't put them in a more reasonable frame of mind," he answered.
Bridger snorted. "If they're not impressed by a chief, they sure as hell won't be impressed by a junior officer. And I'm really not inclined to mess around with these people any longer than we have to."
"I'm open to ideas, Captain."
But he knew what the answer would be before Bridger spoke; in some ways, the captain was terribly predictable.
"Let me throw my khakis on, and we'll head over."
Ken grimaced, trying to type his report and ignore the kid's griping from the holding cell. That one's got a real smart mouth, he thought. Maybe this will teach him to learn to shut up. Judging by the kid's record though, that wasn't likely to happen.
"The sergeant just said someone's coming to get him," his partner John said, slumping down into his chair at the desk next to Ken's.
"You know, I've lived here my entire life. Always worked pretty closely with the Navy," Ken said, leaning back in his own chair.
"You got a point, Ken, or are you just waxing poetic about glory days again? How many times have I got to tell you that Magnum was just a TV show?" John teased. Ken rolled his eyes.
"My point, DeSoto, is that I've never had more trouble with the Navy my entire time on the force than I have these last few months. First there was that whole Bridger fiasco, and now this kid," Ken said, gesturing down towards where the sailor was complaining about something or other.
"So? You're really the one making this harder on yourself, y'know. You could have just left him at that bar last night," John said.
"You ever heard of a submarine called Stingray?" Ken asked.
"Should I have?" John asked in return.
"That's where this kid claims he's stationed. I don't know about you, but me? I pay attention to who's stationed here at Pearl. It's a good thing to know. And I've never heard of any boat by that name."
"So, what, you think he's lying or something? The sergeant spoke to one of his chiefs," John said.
"I know, I know. I'm not sure if he's lying or not. But I'd rather not just hand him over to some chief if I'm not sure," Ken replied.
"How about some captain, then, Officer Watanabe?" a familiar voice asked from behind him.
Ken spun around. "Captain Bridger," he said coolly. "What are you doing here?"
"I've come to pick up one of my sailors. I understand you have a Seaman Piccolo in custody," the captain replied.
Ken felt a headache forming. "One of yours? I thought you were head of some weapons research group. He says he's stationed on a boat called Stingray."
"Yeah. That's my boat." Bridger looked a bit exasperated.
"Never heard of a boat called Stingray."
The captain smiled. "That's the idea."
The burly master chief with Bridger finally spoke up. "Look, Officer, is there some problem here we can resolve for you? Does it really matter if you haven't heard of the boat before?"
"And you are?" Ken asked him.
"Master Chief Crocker." At least he was polite enough to hold out a hand before adding: "I'm the Chief of the Boat for...Stingray."
Ken arched an eyebrow. "I see. And this seaman of yours required a captain and a master chief to escort him back to... Stingray?"
The two exchanged a glance, but it was Bridger that answered. "Officer Watanabe, you know why we're here. One of my chiefs already called down about getting Mr. Piccolo released into Navy custody and was told not to bother coming down," he said. "Now, I'm not the most patient man in the world, so I figured that it'd be best to cut through the red tape and talk to you myself."
Ken would have liked nothing more than to argue with this man and keep the seaman locked up, but protocol was protocol. He rose from his chair, shooting a glare at his partner who was obviously trying to hide his amusement.
He led them back towards the cells. "I don't know what you stand to gain by lying for this kid, and frankly, I'll be glad to get rid of him. But next time you come around my station, you'd better have one hell of a better lie prepared, or just skip the crap and tell me the truth."
"Personally, Officer Watanabe, I'd just as soon never have to be here again," Bridger replied frankly. "And as for the truth...well, you're smart enough to know that if we're lying to you, that's because it's classified."
"You know, Captain, you might just find me a reasonable individual if you just came out and said that from the start, instead of treating me like an idiot and trying to lie," Ken said as he opened the cell door.
"I just might, assuming I was smart enough to do that in the first place," the captain replied with a slight smile. Then he gestured at Piccolo. "He been running his mouth at you, Officer?"
The kid looked absolutely petrified. Maybe he's learned his lesson. I suppose I could give him a break. "Not a peep."
Crocker snorted. "Yeah, right. C'mon, you. You're in a world of trouble already, so don't make it worse by dawdling."
The kid looked like he was going to open his mouth and say something, but snapped it shut again, apparently smart enough to know better.
"I'll need you to sign some paperwork before you leave," Ken told the captain as the master chief led the young man out of the station.
"Lead the way," Bridger replied.
Authors' Note: We're back! Sol and I would both like to apologize for the massive delay, but work has tried to kill us both lately, and we're finally (hopefully) coming out the other side. Stick around for Chapter 20: "Bad News and Worse," in which Hudson maneuvers, Bridger avoids a horrible fate, and a TV special is filmed on board seaQuest. Until then, please review!