Title: Flesh and Bone
Author: Whimsicle-1
Disclaimer: The vast majority of the characters, props, and setting belong to Amblin Entertainment, but I lay claim to the actual arrangement of words found herein as well as any original characters. I make no profit.
Summary: The past comes back to haunt those Nathan Bridger cares for.
Author's Notes: This was originally published many years ago in a zine. Truthfully, it was written really fast and isn't one of my faves, but I like the sequel, so here ya go. I've at least cleaned up some of the god-awful punctuation errors (dear lord, I can get comma and ellipse happy some days).
Feedback: always welcome at whimsicle.dreams@gmail.com

Note: To view larger illustrations, simply click on the icons in the story. To close the resulting window, simply click the illustration.




A bar brawl, Nathan Bridger thought disgustedly as he watched two of his junior officers face a panel of captains and admirals. They’ve thrown away their careers because a marine made a stupid remark and Hollister couldn’t control his temper.

Didn’t they both know by now that stupid remarks were to be expected, particularly from drunk marines?

Both Lieutenant Bryan Hollister and Lt. Commander Kathleen Kinney stood perfectly straight, their dress uniforms spotless as they waited for the verdict from the court-martial tribunal. Sitting not far from Bridger, Kinney’s husband looked tired and worried as he watched the proceedings. Rumor had it he'd forbidden her from seeing their son and intended to file for divorce as soon as the verdict was in. As far as Bridger could tell no one had ever shown up to support Hollister.

The tribunal almost had to give Hollister prison time. He had, after all, thrown the first punch and nearly killed the marine. Kinney would probably get a dishonorable discharge, though she might manage a simple discharge since her part in the brawl had consisted primarily of wading in after it had already started.

Either one of them had a shot at making captain, Nathan mused before another thought occurred to him, now Stark would move up the ladder. He shuddered slightly at the idea. The woman was ambitious and more than capable, but she was also ruthless and more than a little too bloodthirsty for his taste.

And then there was his career. It wasn't likely to raise his stock any to have two of his officers court-martialed in one fell swoop. Not that he was being directly blamed, but it never reflected well on a captain to have junior officers screw up this badly.

God, he wished they'd just stayed home that night. Now, they were all going to pay for this supreme bit of stupidity. A young man was likely to suffer a lifetime of brain damage, two careers were dead, two good officers disgraced and maybe in prison, and kid might be stuck visiting their mother in Levenworth.

Admiral Gilby cleared his throat, preparatory to reading the tribunal's decision, and Nathan braced himself for a guilty verdict.

Except that wasn’t quite the way it happened.

When Gilby spoke, the announcement wasn't a decision at all, but rather a vague statement that the court wished to discuss matters with the defendants in chambers. When Gilby finished, it would hardly be fair to say that pandemonium ruled, but there were murmurs all around the courtroom and the officers representing the two accused looked decidedly bollixed, especially when it became obvious that they weren't invited to any meetings.

What the hell? Bridger thought as he folded his arms across his chest.

Moments later, the two admirals making the proposal and both defendants disappeared into chambers, leaving the rest of the tribunal and attorneys staring at each other in consternation.

Bridger sighed softly as he wondered what face-saving offer the navy would make the two in an attempt to keep the scandal out of the press. Court-martials attracted attention. A simple sanction wasn’t likely to do so. He also wondered which of the accused had threatened to sue if convicted. Probably Kinney. She certainly would have had the best case.

Nathan glanced down at his watch, sincerely hoping that the hearing would soon close down for the day. He’d have liked to get a little time alone with Carol before Robert got in from football practice. Of course, he’d also appreciate a crack at the fridge before his sixteen year old son got to it and turned it into their own private rendition of the Antarctic—cold, barren, and devoid of life.

After little more than a half an hour of waiting, a clerk announced that the hearing was closed for the day.

Later that night, Bridger received a call from Gilby’s liaison officer. An agreement had been reached and the affair was over. It was further stated that Bridger’s discretion in this matter would be appreciated. The steel in the man’s voice made it equally apparent how little a lack of discretion would also be appreciated.


Present Day

Nathan Bridger stood in full dress uniform, staring out at the ocean while inside the banquet hall behind him a slow waltz played. His ship was in pieces at the bottom of a lava flow and the U.E.O. was throwing him a party. Great timing those guys have, the former captain of the seaQuest thought wryly. He sighed softly as it occurred to him that all things considered, he really should be more depressed. Still ... he tightened his arms fractionally around the woman in his arms and felt her lean back harder against his chest in response. He couldn’t complain too much. No one had really been hurt and he and Kristin—he inhaled her perfume—he and Kristin had finally found some time alone together. The base where they were all being quartered while being debriefed might not be the most romantic place on the face of the planet, but it was seaside, there were good locks on the door, and no video monitors in the bedrooms.

Kristin Westphalen stared up at the night sky far overhead. A distant part of her brain was trying to dredge up the names of the various constellations overhead, but mostly she was just enjoying the chance to relax with Nathan. Logically, she knew that they both should have been inside making all the right political connections, but somehow it just didn’t seem terribly important at that moment.

“How long do you think you and Lucas will be gone?” he asked after several minutes of companionable silence.

Kristin shrugged. “I can’t imagine it taking more than a week to properly install the vocoder program, get it debugged and the data loaded.”

“I’ll miss you,” he sighed against her hair, then started nibbling on an ear.

Westphalen grinned. “Good,” she murmured in a satisfied voice.

“Y’know, I’m not really in a party mood tonight."

“Really?” Kristin drawled.

“Really,” Bridger confirmed. “We could go back to my room...”

“And play tiddly winks, no doubt,” the doctor teased in a perfectly serious voice.

“I was thinking of something a bit more adult.”

“Twister?”

“Closer,” Bridger murmured huskily as he slipped one hand from where it rested comfortably just under her ribcage and brushed a fingertip up one bare arm, then along her shoulderblade to the back of her neck. “But I was thinking of something a bit slower moving ... at least at first...”
Westphalen’s breath caught as Nathan began to massage the back of her neck and the hand at her waist slid up, almost cupping the underside of her breast.

“I’d start here,” the former captain of the seaQuest murmured near her ear as he pressed his thumb lightly into the back of her neck. “Then move down to here...” he trailed his hands along a dozen different erogenous routes as he slowly whispered all his plans for the evening ahead.

“Nathan,” Kristin gasped at last. “Has it occurred to you that every politician on the face of the planet is inhaling expensive caviar and over-imbibing even more expensive champagne only a few feet away?”

“Let them get their own dates.”

Kristin turned in his arms to grin up at her lover as she draped her arms around his neck. “Mmmm, may I assume that the captain would like to retire to his quarters for the night?" she drawled suggestively.

Nathan nodded and flashed her an answering smile. “I'd appreciate it if you did.”

If anyone at the dance noticed how quickly the two senior officers from the seaQuest departed the celebration, it was attributed to the obvious depression from recently watching the ship go down. Only one or two other members of the crew realized what was going on and grinned at each other in knowing acknowledgment.

Outside, floating on the waves less than a hundred yards off the beach, a wet suited figure readjusted a parabolic microphone, then reset a series of receiver channels. Occasionally the sound of security cruisers echoed across the water, but they never noticed the small craft hidden in the waves.


Lucas squirmed uncomfortably as he noted the obvious intimacy between Bridger and Westphalen as they all waited for the tech crew to finish readying a small transport sub scheduled to transfer he and the doctor to the larger submarine which would ferry them to the Whale’s Point Science base.

The adults were off to one side talking, voices pitched too low for anyone else to overhear, but the affection between them was obvious in the way they kept touching each other. Yeah, right, it’s not about sex, Lucas thought dryly as he remembered the doctor’s words while still aboard the seaQuest.

“We’re ready,” the pilot interrupted the various musings and discussions going on with a cheery announcement.

“I guess that means us,” Kristin whispered.

Nathan nodded and reached out to cup her face in one hand. The kiss they traded was quick and meant to go unnoticed, but also a statement between two people who couldn't quite keep their hands off each other even in company. Bridger slung an arm across the woman’s shoulders as they crossed to where Lucas was waiting none-too patiently.

“You two have a good time.” Bridger reached out to give Lucas’s shoulder a warm squeeze.

The boy shrugged. “Yeah,” he muttered and turned away to step into the launch.

The two adults watched him go, then traded slightly frustrated gazes. Kristin patted Nathan’s chest. “Just give him a little time,” she soothed. “He’s had a lot of changes to get used to in the last few weeks.”

Bridger’s eyes dropped for a moment, then found hers again. “Be careful down there.”

“Nathan,” the doctor chided gently. “It’s a science colony in the middle of nowhere. What could happen to us?” She kissed his cheek lightly. then hurried aboard.

What could happen indeed, Nathan thought as he watched the mini-sub lock down and pull away. Nothing of course, which made him wonder why he suddenly felt like someone had walked over his grave.


Lucas Wolenczek grumbled something highly impolite under his breath as he tore into the computer console yet again. After two days of trying to install the vocoder program into Science Base 11369’s (code name: Whale’s Point) computer he was about to go insane. Whoever had built the base—no, scratch that—the government, when they built the base, had scrimped and saved on several key components, and as a result, the damn thing was a dinosaur. He was beginning to have doubts that the sophisticated language program would ever run on their system, much less be capable of being modified and expanded to decipher whale communication patterns.

He was still crouched under the console when Kristin Westphalen entered and grumbled under breath as she caught sight of him working on the unit again.

“Damn,” the doctor muttered and moved to crouch down beside him. “What is it this time?”

Lucas gestured to the low-grade wiring that had been used to connect several different circuit boards. “The wiring’s frying out from the heat generated by the CPU. This whole system is garbage. I don’t see how it can possibly hold up to the stress of running a program like this.” He gestured to indicate their surroundings. "Hell, I'm not sure how much longer it can even keep this place going."

Westphalen sighed softly. “Is there anything you can do?”

“Put in fresh boards and rewire the whole thing,” Lucas snapped irritably.

Kristin patted him on the shoulder soothingly, knowing full well how frustrated he must be after two days of this silliness. “Anything else?’

Wolenczek threw his hands up, then shook his head. “Maybe if I install a couple of additional heat syncs and fans...it might cut down on the problem, but this isn’t really what it’s designed to deal with.”

Westphalen sighed softly, wondering how she had been conned into this particular deal. Nothing had gone right from the moment they arrived, and as an added ingredient, she and Lucas had had several minor run-ins over the course of the last couple of days. She glanced at her watch. “It’s too late to get anything in on today’s supply shuttle, but I happen to know that there’s another one due tomorrow. Make a list of what you need and if they don’t want to spring for it, I vote we go home.”

Lucas pulled away from the underside of the console to sit back on his and peer curiously up at the doctor. “You mean it?”

Westphalen nodded tiredly. Having spent her own fair number of hours trying to get the base’s system to work right and the base’s charge d’affaires to help do something about the problem, she was close to the end of her rope. “I see no reason to continue wasting your time and mine.”

“Don’t want to waste any time getting back to the captain, more like,” Lucas grumbled under his breath in one of the lightning fast mood swings that had characterized the last two days.

“No,” Kristin snapped, her own temper giving way. “I just don’t happen to get a big thrill out of spending my time on the impossible or fighting with the idiots who run this place...or bloody well fighting with you either.” The last part was thrown back over her shoulder as she stormed toward the door.

“Doctor, wait!” Lucas called to her retreating back.

Westphalen spun back. Arms folded across her chest, she stared at the teenager expectantly. “Well?” she whispered tightly. Two days of Lucas’s muttered comments had finally gotten the better of her temper, and she had no intention of forgiving easily.

“I-I’m sorry,” Lucas whispered huskily. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No,” Kristin agreed. “you shouldn’t have.”

The boy’s eyes dropped to the floor, then slid up to the ceiling. “It’s just that...” He took a deep breath. “I just...I don’t know,” he sighed at last and shrugged his shoulders hopelessly.

The woman’s anger evaporated in the face of the teen’s obvious distress, and she crossed back to stand near him, her expression a mix of worry and frustration. “Lucas,” the doctor began carefully. “I know that you feel left out sometimes...and maybe like you’ve lost a part of your childhood...and I know that you’ve been jealous of Nathan and I, but..." She took a deep breath, using the brief pause to refocus her thoughts. “you’ve got to stop striking out. You and I had a pretty good friendship going aboard the seaQuest. You’re a wonderful boy and I value that relationship, but I’m not going to stand around and let you use me for target practice.”

Lucas only nodded, but she could see him swallow hard to hold back even the threat of tears. Westphalen sighed softly, then reached out to ruffle his hair in a gentle motion. “Why don’t you go ahead and put together that list of what you think you’ll need.”

Lucas sniffed once, then nodded, and went to do as she asked. Kristin dragged her fingers through her hair in a ragged gesture of frustration as she watched the boy turn away to do as she asked. Well, at least she had handled the scene fairly well. Now, the only thing to do was hope that what she had said would sink in if she gave him a little room. Finally, she turned on one heel and slipped out.


“Supply ship four-three-six-niner, this is Whale’s Point, Undersea Science Base, please respond,” the young tech’s manner was calm as she repeated the request to the incoming submarine. There was no stress in her voice. A Romeo class, this particular ship had docked there more than a dozen times and besides, there was nothing much to steal at Whale’s Point.

“Problem?” the dock supervisor asked, and leaned close.

The young woman shook her head. “The supply sub isn’t responding to hails.”

“Are you sure it’s them?”

“Well, this is when they were due to arrive and the transponder code matches.”

“They’re probably having a communications problem. They’ve got almost as many bugs in their systems as we do.”

The young woman nodded. “That’ll teach us all to buy government surplus.”

Her supervisor grinned at the sarcasm inherent in the statement. “Keep trying to raise them on all channels. But I don’t see any reason to delay docking procedures.”

“Do you want me to alert security, just in case?”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’m sure it’s nothing but a screwup, but better safe than sorry.”


Half a dozen cargo personnel were milling about in the cargo loading area as the Romeo linked up with the small base. The only thing Whale’s Point had going for it was the advanced docking systems. The design was similar to an airport jetty with flexible companionways that could be guided by a remote system to link directly to most modern submarines. It required good pilots on both ends and was somewhat limited by the size of submarine that the two large slips could support, but it was a lot easier for most operations than the time-consuming shuttle runs required on most bases.

The link-up went smoothly and both sides unlatched their airlock doors. A second set of doors cut the mobile companionway off from the main cargo area and a technician moved to unlock it once they had gotten the word the link-up was air-tight.

It was the last thing he ever did. Gunfire tore through the door and then his body with equally callous brutality.

The three security officers, who arrived at almost the same moment, all went for the guns holstered on their belts, but the sonic weapons did more harm than good, knocking their own people unconscious and leaving the invaders untouched. Bullets ripped the security staff to shreds before they really even had time to realize the mistake they’d made.


The young comm-tech who’d been unable to raise the sub looked up in shock as her supervisor staggered into the tiny radio room, his chest punctured by a half dozen bullet holes. Never having seen that kind of violence before the woman froze, staring at him with disbelieving eyes as his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor.

Still not comprehending the danger, the woman was out of her chair and moving to the wounded man when a tall man stepped into her line of vision.

Dressed in olive drab and camouflage, the clothes did nothing to hide the rope like muscles that crisscrossed his arms and upper torso. He reached out, catching her by the shirt front and hauled her up, careless that the collar nearly cut off her air when he lifted her feet off the ground.

The perverse intimacy gave the woman a good look at her attacker’s bare arms and the heavy scars that marred them, following the line of his muscles entirely too perfectly.

The short barrel of an uzzi machine pistol was pressed against the soft underside of her chin. “Where are the woman and the boy?” In contrast to the mad look in his eyes, his voice was surprisingly gentle.

Confused, she shook her head. As a communications specialist, she dealt with the comings and goings of ships, not the various science personnel who visited the research center. The lack of knowledge didn’t cost her life. Nothing could have saved that.

Bryan Hollister felt the slight shudder as the machine pistol discharged a half dozen rounds. He tossed the body casually aside, then glanced down at the man who’d staggered in to try and warn the woman. Tough old bastard, Bryan thought as he noted there still a slight hint of tremulous movement in his chest. Wouldn’t last long, but still... There were only a couple of rounds left in the uzzi.

They discharged quickly.

When Bryan was finished, the dead man didn’t have much chest left to do anything much less breathe.

He dropped the clip and slammed a fresh one home, then chambered a round, and calmly opened fire on the communications console, smiling slightly as it exploded in a flurry of sparks and smoke.


“Damn,” Lucas muttered.

“What?” Kristin questioned as she peered over the top rims of her reading glasses at him.

“I just lost the line out.”

Westphalen resisted the urge to snarl something uncharitable toward the dean of studies at her old university who had talked her into this “little” project and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ll go see what I can do,” the woman promised and reached for her coffee cup, fully intending to top it back out on the journey.


Wild-eyed and well-armed, the small group of invaders surged from the cargo hold, attacking with brutal ferocity and giving no quarter.

Bryan Hollister tilted his uzzi up and dropped the now empty clip to the deck before snapping in a new one. He dropped the slide home, chambering a fresh round as he waved his men in around him.. “AND REMEMBER!” he shouted to make himself heard through the earplugs that protected the mercenaries hearing as well as his own. “I WANT THE WOMAN AND THE BOY UNHARMED!”


Kristin was just refilling her coffee cup and prepping herself for the latest fight with the base administration, when the warning went out over the intercom system. “All crew members, we are under attack. Terrorists have gotten into the cargo area, and are moving through the lower decks. Science personnel are instructed to move to the upper decks and prepare for emergency launch procedures. Security is on its way to deal with the problem, and we are confident that they will do so.”

Kristin’s heart was suddenly beating tripletime. On her way to talk to someone in the communications center, she was about as far from the upper decks as it was possible to be without being in the middle of the fighting. Even as that thought occurred to her, several men and women in security blues ran by in the hallway outside the coffee nook. One of them slowed just long enough to duck his head inside. “Get upstairs, Doctor. NOW! They’re locking the security doors in the next few minutes."

Damn, hopefully Lucas was already on his way, but just in case, she knew she needed to check on him. Luckily, it was on the way. Then hopefully, they could both get to safety. The thought that if she could just be on the other side of those doors when they locked, everything would be all right was a comforting one.

The distinct sound of a shot echoed somewhere down another hallway, adding speed to her strides. Another burst of gunfire forced her to change course to avoid the moving sounds of combat. She hadn't gone much farther when she realized she could hear short burst of gunfire and shouts on all sides. Boxed in, she took a wrong turn and was halfway down a corridor that led to a second, smaller launch bay before she realized her mistake.

Knowledge came as the sound of gunfire ricocheted off the metal walls of the hallway ahead. The noise grew louder as she continued down the hallway, rather than more distant.

Westphalen pulled up short and spun around, uncertain which way to go in the unfamiliar hallways of the science base.

The sounds of gunfire continued to grow in intensity, so she turned around, heading back the way she had come as the battle raged behind her.

There was never any doubt who would win. The security officers were really just regular officers who were also trained to handle the occasional drunk or minor threat. They had access to several non-lethal weapons and .32mm semi-automatic pistols. Their assailants were armed to the teeth and well-versed in combat. The battle, if it could be called that, was over quickly.

The sudden wave of silence was actually more terrifying than the noise had been.

Kristin had almost reached the turn that led to the security doors when a short burst of fire hit a wall just to her right and she pulled up short.

“Hands in the air.”

The voice was smooth, not at all as she had somehow expected. Shaking hard, she complied with the order.

“Now turn around.”

Moving as if she no longer quite controlled her body, Kristin Westphalen turned to face the speaker.

A half dozen men stood at the opposite end of the hallway, all of them armed and similarly attired in combat fatigues, but she knew instantly who was in charge. Tall with dark blonde hair and a massive physique, he smiled slightly as he got a look at her face.

“Doctor Westphalen, we meet at last. It’s a pleasure. I’ve recently become quite a fan of yours.”

Kristin blinked in confusion. Her eyes flicked sideways. She was only a few feet from a corridor that branched off to the stairs and the security doors. If she could just...

Bryan Hollister grinned as he stared at the woman. He could almost smell the fear pouring off of her like sweat. He knew she was going to try and run.

Raf Donalson, a long-term professional mercenary with kill record that impressed even Hollister, leaned close. “Blow out a knee cap,” he advised.

Hollister didn’t even look at the man as he stripped off the weapons harness from which the uzzi and a half dozen other weapons hung. “No, I don’t need a gun to handle this one. Stay here until I give the word.”

Kristin watched their leader pass the weapons back to one of the others and start toward her. He was still a dozen paces away, but had moved between she and others, blocking their line of fire.

Knowing it was her only chance, the woman backpedaled and twisted into the hallway, breaking into a hard run. Her attacker was only a few paces behind as she neared the door slots. His hand flashed out, digging into the back of her lab coat as the doors started to slide shut. The doctor threw back her arms, shrugging out of the lightweight fabric, and leapt. She stumbled as she dove over the steadily rising lower door, just barely ducking her head under the next layer which dropped down from a slot in the ceiling. Westphalen hit the metal grating deck on the other side hard. Momentum tumbled her into the bottom edge of the stairs and she lay there gasping, staring back the way she had come.

A one foot gap still remained between the two doors as he reached them only a second behind her and he got his hands into the space. Solid muscle rippled with tension as he tried to wedge the heavy steel panels apart, throwing the stark, keloidal scar tissue that followed bone and sinew into perfectly delineated relief.

Kristin swallowed hard as she realized of what those neatly ridged scars signified. Following the line of his muscles so perfectly, it undoubtedly meant that he'd had cybernetic muscle augmentation and perhaps more than that. Muscle implants alone would make him stronger and less vulnerable to injury than a normal human. If they had also replaced bones and organs, he might be nearly unstoppable.

Unable to tear her eyes from the sight of her assailant struggling to pry the metal doors apart, Westphalen reached behind herself, using her hands to lever her body up and backwards on the staircase. It was all too possible that he might be strong enough to get through.

Despite his best efforts, the gap between the double doors continued to narrow at a steady pace.

Kristin got lucky.

Despite his strength, her attacker didn’t have the leverage needed to force the doors back. Moments later, he had to jerk his hands away or risk having his fingers sheered off.

The last thing Westphalen saw of him before the gap disappeared was his eyes peering through the steadily shrinking slot. Moments later, the door on her side slid firmly into place, locking into a slot in the floor.

The sound jerked the doctor out of her momentary paralysis and she pushed to her feet. There was no doubt in her mind that any reprieve she had gotten would be a very brief one indeed.


Kristin was shocked to find Lucas still in his work area, hunched over the computer. “Lucas,” the doctor panted, breathing hard from running. “We’ve got to get to the escape pods.”

The boy shook his head without looking up. His hands were moving over the keyboard at mind numbing speeds. He never even paused as he answered. “Don’t bother. They’re blowing those out of the water as soon as they break away from the base.”

“Oh damn,” Kristin groaned and raked her fingers through her hair. “That’s that then,” she exhaled as she suddenly became aware of the bumps and bruises she’d received escaping from the men in the hallway. She looked down and noted in a detached manner that somewhere along the way, she’d split one knee open and it was bleeding profusely.

“Not if I can help it,” Lucas muttered, still typing madly.

“What are you doing?”

“The base’s computer system is tied to the sub’s through the link up. I’m trying to use their communications to hook a satellite feed and get word to somebody.” As if in response to his words, the image on the computer screen shifted through a series of almost artistic patterns, then showed the words Channel open.


“Captain,” James Cannell, the communications officer aboard the United States Delta class Submarine, SeaVenture, turned away from his console as he pulled the communication up. “We’ve got an unsecured presence on a military channel.”

Captain Steven Marcus’ brows drew together. “Bring it up.” The captain’s frown deepened as a boy’s face appeared through a haze of interference on the main vid-screen. Damn hackers, the captain thought disgustedly, as if they haven’t already caused enough problems. “This is the SeaVenture, young man, and you are in serious trouble—”

“Damn Straight,” a woman’s voice, honey rich with a heavy British accent cut him off before he could really start his tirade. Shocked, he fell silent as a woman’s face joined the boy’s onscreen.

“This is Doctor Kristin Westphalen of the seaQuest. I don’t have a hell of a lot of time to talk. Whale’s Point Science base is under attack by unknown forces. They’re killing everyone they see and destroying any emergency vessels as they leave the base.”

Marcus’ jaw dropped as recognition set in. One of the seaQuest people was hailing his ship for help. “Find out where the hell that is!” he shouted to his pilot.

“We need help,” the woman continued, “and we need it now.”

Marcus didn’t have to tell his crew to check who might be in the area of the base. They were already doing so.

“We’re at least fourteen hours away, sir,” the pilot shouted, then another voice broke into the channel...


Silent and sleek, the USS Nemesis floated well between the SeaVenture and Whale’s Point. Designed as the ultimate undersea weapon of war, she had neither research facilities nor civilian quarters. Rescue facilities were limited at best and the small launches she carried were meant more for conquest than recovery. Smaller and faster than the seaQuest had been, she was packed from stem to stern with the finest technology available, all of it aimed at perfecting the art of war.

Captain Kathleen Kinney gestured to her communications officer to break into the signal as she took the seat in front of the small communications monitor. An ear piece was hooked over one ear, and a microphone hung down in front of her mouth. She tapped several commands into the console, then waited while the system processed the commands which would allow the Nemesis to break into the channel the boy was using. The computer beeped to signal a successful connection.

“Whale’s Point, this is the U.S. submarine Nemesis. We’re on our way, but it’ll be at least seven hours. Can you hold on until then?”


Kristin stared at the image that had replaced the previous one on the monitor. It showed a woman, more or less her own age, wearing captain’s bars and looking worried. “I don’t think so. They’re well armed and I'm sure that at least their leader’s had muscle augmentation...and their may be others as well.”

The woman onscreen lost color and adjusted the 2-way headset the hung over one ear as she whispered into it. “Somebody give me an idea where they can hide.” She refocused on Westphalen. “Do you have any weapons?”

“No...Nothing...”

Something came up on a screen to the captain’s right. “All right, Doctor. It looks like the base has man-sized cable conduits. It’ll be tight, but passable. I want you to get into them. Keep your head low and run like hell.”

“How...how do we get into them?”

“There’s an entrance in here,” the boy offered, speaking for the first time.

The captain of the Nemesis smiled slightly in an attempt to soothe the two frightened people. “That’s good. Now I want you to leave this system running and get in there.”

“But what about the others?”

“You can’t help them. We might be able to as long as your computer is linked to ours, but we can’t do anything if we’re worrying about you two, so I want you to get into that conduit now.”

In the background, the sound of shooting pounded to dull life.

Kristin’s head snapped up. “That’s them,” she whispered tightly.

“Okay, I want you two to move it. Now!”


The faces disappeared from the vid-screen, leaving Kinney staring at the empty screen with worried eyes. Without looking away, she vacated her seat in favor of the ship’s computer specialist.

Ian McAlister took his regular seat and started working immediately. A rapid assessment of the situation made his expression even grimmer. He cycled through the base’s security cameras, coming up with an image of slaughter that was truly horrifying.

Kinney leaned over his shoulder, watching it all with a sick fascination. McAlister’s hands danced over the keyboard, controlling and manipulating the base’s network of automatic doors and airlocks to put barricades between the marauders and their intended victims.

Unfortunately, it rapidly became obvious that he could do little more than slow the invaders down. But slow them he would, with every trick and slight of hand stunt he knew.

Abruptly, the captain straightened away from the images on the monitor and waved to her crew. “Terry, I want you to start studying the security cam images. See if we can find out who the hell we’re dealing with here. Michaels, I want you to see if you can find a prevailing current that’ll get us there any faster. And somebody, for God’s sake, get Bill Noyce and Admiral Trent on the line.”

Jake Enderly, the Nemesis’ Ex-O spoke up with a point that had occurred to several of the ship’s officers. “You do realize that we don’t have clearance from the US Government, or the U.E.O. for this mission.”

Kinney glanced over and shrugged. “It’ll take at least two hours for a formal clearance of orders. And you know damn well they’re going to give it. I’ll be damned if I’ll sit on my thumbs in the meantime.”

“In which case I should spend the time between now and then putting together a battle plan, should we have to enter the base,” Enderly suggested dryly.

“Good idea, and while you’re at it, see what you can come up with on that romeo.”

“Aye-aye.”


Nathan Bridger hadn’t slept well since he’d put Kristin and Lucas on the mini-sub and the strain was starting to show. He tried to lose himself in the poker game with Ford, Krieg, and Hitchcock, but found himself embarrassingly close to being wiped out by the younger officers.

“Sir,” Ford repeated after Nathan had been staring at his hand longer than normal. “Are you feeling okay?”

Bridger blinked, mentally returning to the present. “I’m fine...sorry, I just—” Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the demanding beep of the vid phone.

Closest to the wall unit, Hitchcock was the first to reach and activate the phone. Instantly, Bill Noyce’s face appeared on the large video screen. He looked exhausted, and appeared to be in a car, en route to somewhere.

“Lieutenant, get Captain Bridger, now,” he demanded shortly.

Hitchcock knew instantly that something was wrong. Under normal circumstances, Noyce was never so abrupt.

Bridger stepped into view of the two-way camera. “What is it, Bill?”

Noyce didn’t even try to soften the blow. He knew his old friend well enough to know it would be better straight out. “There’s been trouble at Whale’s Point.”

Bridger’s hands fisted at his sides and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

The other three officers in the room traded worried gazes.

“What?” was all the former captain of seaQuest asked.

“Someone broke aboard and started shooting. There are fatalities, but we know that Lucas and Doctor Westphalen were still alive as of about twenty minutes ago.”

Bridger closed his eyes as he willed the fear down. When he opened them again, his expression was deadly intense. “What are you doing.”

“We’re trying to find something to scramble out there, but dammit, Nathan, without the seaQuest—”

“I know all about the seaQuest,” Bridger cut his superior off in a hard voice. “Now tell me what you’re doing.”

“Secretary Noyce,” a voice cut in politely, but firmly. “We are receiving communications from the Nemesis. Captain Kinney is demanding to speak with you in regards to the Whale’s Point matter.”

“Patch it through,” Noyce ordered instantly and Bridger was cut off.

Nathan just stood there for a long moment, just staring at the screen as if he could make something happen by sheer force of will.

It was Hitchcock who spoke first, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder in a way that had nothing to do with their respective ranks as she quietly said, “I’m sure they’ll be okay.”


“...Dammit, Captain,” Bill Noyce swore angrily as he faced Kathleen Kinney. “You can’t refuse to pick up a U.E.O. team on this.” Every major treaty the U.E.O. had presided over required they be represented in an action like this even if he was privately inclined to consider it a waste of valuable time.

Kinney faced his insistence with equal stubbornness. “And I told you, Mister Secretary, that I’m not refusing to pick them up, I’m just refusing to change course or slow down...The only chance those people have lies in our getting there fast. All things considered, I’m not losing even one minute to pick up the U.E.O.’s low rent version of a S.E.A.L. team. Now, sir, I suggest we get the hell off this frequency. My computer team needs it.”

Not all that disappointed by her answer, no matter what his legal responsibilities might be, Noyce nodded in agreement. “Good luck, Captain. We’ll be in contact as needed.”


Nathan Bridger’s head was starting to hurt from the stress of waiting.

When Noyce finally came back online, he looked tired and disturbed. “That was Kathy Kinney with the Nemesis. They’re on their way, but it will take them several hours to reach the base."

Bridger recognized the name, but didn’t have time to worry about long dead issues. “Get me onto that sub, Bill,” he bit out, making it an order, not a request.

Knowing the stress his friend was under, the Secretary General of the U.E.O. made no attempt to chastise him for overstepping his bounds. “Nathan, she’s not going to slow down or divert for anything.”

“I mean it, Bill. Do whatever you have to. If you can find a launch that can rendezvous with the Nemesis before she hits Whale’s Point, I promise you, I’ll find a way to be on it.”

Noyce started to argue, then thought better of it. “All right, Nathan. I’ll see what I can do.” Then the line clicked off.

The silence in the room was the ill-at-ease-nobody-knows-what-to-say-or-do kind. It brought back a memory for Nathan Bridger of some senator who had just finished extolling the wonders of the battle that had killed his son. When the man turned around and realized who had overheard his remarks, he had just stared while others in the room stood by uncomfortably. Bridger had simply turned and walked out. He suspected that he would regret to his dying day, not taking the opportunity to break the man’s jaw. His hands fisted tightly at his sides. The memory was one he could have done without.

“Uh, sir,” Jonathan Ford’s voice, uncertain and hesitant broke into Bridger’s tortured musings. Ford looked at the other three, who all nodded. “We’d like to come with you if at all possible.”

Bridger just nodded, feeling totally bereft of the magical way with words he was rumored to possess.


Kristin Westphalen pushed her hair out of her eyes, then went back to fighting with the jammed pressure seal which was preventing she and Lucas from going any farther in the piping conduits. Even with their combined strength, it didn’t budge. Finally, she sat back on her heels and waved Lucas away from the panel. She was bruised, bleeding badly at the knee and felt like crying in frustration. Not one of her better days, she noted with gallows humor.

Kristin glanced at her watch, trying to remember when she had spoken to the captain of the Nemesis...an hour before perhaps...which left only...what...six hours. She resisted the urge to laugh hysterically, not wanting to frighten Lucas any more than he already was.

The shooting in the halls outside seemed to have died down, at least on the levels they’d been on. Westphalen didn’t try to fool herself that it was because the base staff had somehow turned the tables on the invaders. There was little question in her mind that it was because most of the base crew was dead.

“What now?” the teen asked, fear making his voice quaver noticeably.

Kristin shrugged. “We backtrack and go around.”

Lucas nodded, then swallowed hard. “We’re not going to make it, are we?” he whispered tightly.

Westphalen couldn’t lie. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. She caught his hands in hers and held them tight. “I just keep holding onto the fact that somebody’s on their way. If we can just hold on long enough, we’ll be all right.”


Nathan Bridger barely noticed the light rain that drizzled steadily down on his head as he waited on the dock for word from Noyce. Only a few hundred yards away, a fully gassed transport helicopter was waiting to take him to wherever a launch could be found that could make a rendezvous with the Nemesis. He tried to keep his mind blank and not think about everything that could happen to—
Nathan consciously stopped the thought. It had been so much easier on the seaQuest, to keep from being driven half mad with worry. There was always something demanding his time. Now there was little to occupy a man but his own thoughts and memories.

“Sir.”

Bridger turned to find Ben Krieg holding a paper cup of coffee out to him.

“You looked like you could use this,” the younger man said softly.

“What, no entreaties to come in out of the rain?” Bridger muttered acidly, referring to the attempts by the others to get him off the dock and into the small covered waiting area.
                               
Krieg shook his head, then took a sip out of his own cup of the lukewarm, too-weak coffee before answering. “No...sometimes we all need a little time away from the crowd...”

Bridger snorted something incomprehensible under his breath, but didn’t argue.

“I know what you must be feeling...how I’d feel if it were Katie," Ben stammered. Normally, Ben Krieg was a man blessed with all the skills the Blarney stone could grant, but for once his silver tongue was rapidly failing him. “I have a good idea what losing Bobby and your wife did to you and...well...whatever happens ... nobody wants ... that ... again ...”

Bridger didn’t say anything, but his hand tightened on the flimsy coffee cup, crushing it, careless of the murky brown liquid that spilled across his hand. Krieg knew he wasn’t wanted and probably wasn’t saying any of the right things, but his old friendship with Robert Bridger made him feel honor bound to stay close. He drew back a few feet, but didn’t leave.

He was grateful twenty minutes later, when Ford came jogging out. In the distance, powerful helicopter blades began a slow, but building rotation.

“They’ve found a launch that can transport us to the Nemesis,” Jonathan panted as he reached them. “We’ll have to do a sea drop from the chopper to make it in time.”

“That’s not a problem,” Bridger clipped.

“There is one catch.” Ford continued. “She’s Russian, so the Pentagon may not agree to allow her aboard the Nemesis.”

“They’ll agree,” Bridger promised with a dark look as he started toward the chopper at a fast jog. “I promise you that much.”

Ford threw a glance at Krieg, who only shrugged.


Kathleen Kinney leaned over Ian McAlister, one hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder as she watched him work. For over two hours, he had struggled to save the crew of Whale’s Point against impossible odds, using nothing more than his knowledge of remotely manipulating computer systems. Despite his best efforts, he had seen too many people die. The strain was starting to show. The shoulder beneath Kinney’s hand trembled faintly as the sound of another burst of gunfire hiccuped through the computer system. Barely twenty-four, what little combat he had seen had been clean and far away. Nothing had prepared the young man for this.

“I can get someone else up here if you need to be relieved, Ian,” Kinney offered gently.

McAlister shook his head silently. He was the best on the ship at this little game and he knew it. He cycled through the security cameras again, still trying to get a decent look at the big one who seemed to be the leader. As far as he could tell there was no one other than the terrorists left alive in the base, but they still seemed to be looking for someone.

“They still haven’t found who they’re after,” Kinney echoed her junior officer’s thoughts. “The woman and the boy,” she whispered a moment later. “Did you ever see what happened to them?”

McAlister shook his head. “No, the last time I saw them was when you sent them into the conduits, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Captain,” Jake Enderly’s voice cut off any consideration of what it might not mean as he cut in. “I’ve just gotten word from the U.E.O.. We need to talk.”

Kinney gave McAlister’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Keep monitoring.” she instructed gently, then let Enderly pull her off to one side. “What is it?” she questioned, not liking the look on the younger man’s face.

Enderly kept his voice pitched low. “Secretary Noyce has a team on the way. They’ll be here in about an hour and a half.”

“Okay,” Kinney said carefully. The expression on Enderly’s face was far too stressed for that to be all of the news.

“They’re sending a group of officers from the seaQuest instead of a rescue team.”

“Oh, joy,” Kinney exhaled, instinctively knowing who at least one of those officers would undoubtedly be. “But that’s not all...” she prompted firmly.

Enderly shook his head. “There’s only one sub between here and there that can get a launch to a rendezvous position along our present course...” he trailed off while Kinney mentally reviewed the ships in the area.

The captain of the Nemesis abruptly lost all color. “Tell me this isn’t what I think,” she groaned.

Enderly nodded. “The Vremya Octabyar.”

“Son-of-a...” Kinney exhaled, and dragged one hand through her hair. She peered up at Enderly. “May I assume this has not been approved?”

Her Ex-O let out a dark laugh. “So what are we going to do?” he asked a moment later.

Kinney shrugged. “Don’t even ask for permission on this one. Just let them aboard.”

“That means letting a Russian vessel and naval officer aboard this ship. God only knows how much information they could get their hands on if we do that.”

Kinney shrugged again. “Probably not a lot they don’t already have. Besides, when several members of the crew of the seaQuest, which reportedly recently saved life as we know it, come knocking, do you really think it’s terribly politic to bolt the door?”

“But a Russian transport?” Enderly muttered distractedly.

Kinney shrugged as she patted him on the shoulder. “Haven’t you heard? We’re all one big happy planet these days.”

“Yeah, right,” Enderly grumbled sarcastically.


Bryan Hollister wanted to kill something, tear it apart and taste blood. He knew the woman and the boy were on the base, but somehow he couldn’t find them. The gnawing worry that one of his hired mercenaries had killed them without his knowledge was beginning to eat away at him. He'd worn earplugs to avoid battle deafness and he slipped them out and just stood in the middle of a room, listening. Around him, the aftermath of the carnage reigned, but he showed no sign of noticing his own handiwork. He looked up suddenly, eyes tracing the heavy piping that ran right into...the walls.

“Still no sign of ‘em,” Donalson’s heavily accented voice interrupted Hollister’s thoughts as he entered the room. He noted the destruction with a slight frown that disappeared as fast as it had appeared.

Hollister looked down, staring at the walls with rabid intensity, completely ignoring his lieutenant. Suddenly, he swung his weapon over his shoulder and crossed to one metal plated wall.

“Cap’n?” Donalson questioned.

Hollister tore away the panel with unnatural ease, revealing the narrow corridor behind it.

Donalson cursed softly.

“This whole place is probably criss-crossed with hidden passageways like this. They’re in the walls.”


It was hopeless, Kristin realized with a sick rush. They had no weapons. She was a bruised and bloody mess and Lucas didn’t look to be doing much better. And their attackers clearly knew where they were and were herding them, blocking off all escape routes with casual brutality and forcing them into ever more limited choices. In short, it was just a matter of time.

And yet instinct drove her to fight for that time—every second of it—for herself and Lucas.

The sound of voices echoed through the conduits ahead of and behind them, cutting them off yet again.

"We can't stay in here," Kristin whispered. Since the terrorists were now looking for them in the tunnels, maybe they could slip through the net one more time by shifting tactics. "We need to use the regular corridors to try and get to another section of the base."

Almost numb to the fear after so much of it, Lucas shook his head slowly. "They'll find us," he panted.

"They're closing in on us now, Lucas. If we don't get out of these conduits soon, we may not have the choice."

The teen swallowed hard, nearly overwhelmed by the fear. He'd faced danger before, but always with the backing of the seaQuest and the knowledge that the captain and crew would be there for him. Now they were on their own.

More sounds ahead and behind brought his head up. "You're right," he exhaled after a beat. Maybe it would work. Moving a few more feet, he found an access panel and forced it aside, then peered out through t           he narrow gap, relieved to find himself looking at an empty room. A moment later, he slipped out of the narrow passageway into one of the many computer centers on the base, double checking to make sure they were alone before reaching back to help the doctor.

Lucas noted that Kristin's knee injury had reopened and was bleeding again. With every step, her limp became more pronounced. For the first time since he’d known the woman, it occurred to him that he was both taller and physically stronger than she. The thought jarred him. She was the adult and always seemed almost larger-than-life. In his mind, she was supposed to make everything better, but she couldn’t anymore than he could. He slipped an arm around her waist, urging her to lean against him as he mentally reviewed their options...oh hell, what options, he thought disgustedly...as if we have any left.


“Captain,” McAlister’s voice cut through the near silence of Nemesis‘ bridge. “I’ve got the woman and the kid on a security camera. ”

Kinney swung around, focusing on the computer screen. “They’re alive,” she whispered and hurried over.

“Yeah, but I don’t know for how long. One of the terrorists is right outside the room they’re in.”

“Is there anything you can do to redirect pursuit?”

McAlister tapped several commands into the computer, then shook his head. “The system’s so torn up I can’t make any of the doors respond.”

“Is there any way you can warn them?”

McAlister’s hands moved over the keyboard. “I dunno. I’m just going to... Damn, he’s at the door. I think he heard them....” his voice trailed off as he concentrated on the problem at hand. “Damn,” he exhaled only a moment later as the vid-screen went blank.

“What happened?” Kinney whispered.

“The security system just went down. I don’t know if they shut it off or it's just too chewed up to keep transmitting.”

“Keep trying,” Kinney ordered as she pinched the bridge of her nose exhaustedly.

A moment later, the security system blipped online for no more than a second and the entire bridge crew flinched in unison as the sound of gunfire echoed across the connection before it shorted out again.

Kinney allowed herself two seconds to regroup before she spun back to the rest of her waiting crew. She pivoted, automatically raising her voice to accommodate the entire room. “I’m afraid we must now assume there are no survivors,” she said grimly, her voice noticeably thicker than usual. “ We have an acoustical sampling of the submarine believed to be involved in the attack and will continue to track it if it leaves the base. Our orders are to pursue and presumably engage her...”

She slowed and took a deep breath. The bridge crew had handled the situation like the professionals they were, but they were also so damn young, and they'd never been through anything like this—fighting to save lives and failing at every turn. They needed to hear that this wasn't their fault. “I also want you to know that no one could have changed the outcome for the better. You all have performed your duties admirably...and I am damn proud of every one of you.” She dropped her voice to a level that only those immediately around her could hear. “Jake, have Chase relieve McAlister as soon as possible.”

“I’m fine, Captain,” Ian said quickly, but the captain shook her head.

“You need a break. We may need you at optimum later.”

The young man seemed about to argue, but finally nodded in agreement.

Enderly leaned in close to his captain, his voice pitched too low for anyone but her to hear. “That was good advice, Captain. Maybe you should take it.”

The woman let out a slow shuddering breath and held up one hand, staring intently at the silver spiderweb of scars that covered the backside. She spread the fingers, flexed them randomly, then fisted her hand tightly. “Plastic and steel muscle, sinew, bone...anabolic steroids, quinalizine, scopolamine, Azathioprine, and a few subliminal learning programs...”

“Captain?” Enderly whispered uneasily.

Kinney blinked, then refocused on her junior officer as she opened the tightly fisted hand. “What do you know about augmentation, Mr. Enderly?”

Enderly blinked, before regaining his composure to answer. “Only what little has been declassified. It was a test program after the creation of GELFs and was ruled illegal by the Geneva Convention of 2003. It involved increasing a soldier’s capabilities through advanced learning techniques and the implantation of cybernetics.”

“Do you know why the program failed?”

“It was made illegal by a United Nations compact in 2009."

Kinney shook her head. “That was why it was officially stopped. I asked why it failed.”

“Captain?” Enderly said as he shook his head in confusion.

“Augmentation rested on the principal that you could take a soldier, add cybernetics and use subliminal training to create some sort of Uberman. To do that they used a lot of drugs, both to retard rejection of implants and to enhance the subliminals. To do that required a lot of drugs...very powerful ones with some pretty wild side effects...which required even more drugs. That created a veritable cocktail of reactions and counter actions with psychological effects from depression to paranoia to hallucination, and finally in some instances to full blown psychotic breaks from reality complete with extreme violence."

“You think that’s what happened here?”

Kinney looked back at the view screen which now showed the relatively calm waters immediately around the ship, then back at Enderly. “No,” she said softly. “This was planned...and that scares me even more.”

Enderly’s jaw worked as if he was about to say something, then thought better of it. “Captain,” he said and drew himself erect. “Nothing’s likely to happen for several hours. I can handle the bridge. If the sub leaves the base, we’ll just stay on her tail. I recommend you get some rest.”

Kinney’s lip twisted in a wry half smile. “Yeah,” she sighed and massaged the back of her neck. “Notify me when that Russian transport is about to board.”

“Will do. It should be about another three hours.”

Kinney nodded, and spared one last glance at the view screen before slipping out.


The mercenary who found Lucas and Kristin didn’t look to be much older than Lucas, but his eyes were hardened and he easily centered his weapon on his targets.

Moving automatically, Kristin shoved Lucas behind her and faced the young man with a look of disdain, but he only grinned at the attempted intimidation.

Lucas would have stepped in front of the doctor, but she tightened her hold on his wrist, keeping right where he was.

“I got ‘em, Captain," the mercenary spoke into the microphone that hung in front of his mouth, "They’re in the auxiliary computer lab on V deck.”

Westphalen couldn’t hear the response, but she noted the way their captor’s finger backed off the trigger.

“Cap’n wants to talk to you,” the mercenary said softly as he advanced on the two of them.

Westphalen backed away at the same pace, careful to keep Lucas behind her even when she could feel him wanting to step out and protect her.

Lucas' shoulderblades hit the wall only a few inches from where the panel opened to lead into the cable conduits. He glanced over, noting the crack where the door hadn’t been completely latched, then jerked his head back around as the doctor ran out of room to retreat and pressed up against his chest.

His mouth split in a triumphant grin, the mercenary brushed the barrel of his MAC 11 along Westphalen’s jaw. She ducked her head to the side, but there was no place left to escape. “Too bad the kid’s here and we don’t have much time," he taunted, enjoying the sense of power that came with her obvious fear. "We could have had some real fun.”

The gun barrel roamed lower as the mercenary toyed with Kristin. Teeth gritted, she fought to keep her head clear. They didn't have much time. Cool steel brushed down the center of her chest, and she noted the way his eyes tracked the slow movement as he was distracted by the sights offered by the vee of her shirt.

It was their only chance, Kristin realized in an instant. No time to think or debate, just act.

Throwing all of her strength behind the effort, she whipped her hand up, slamming it into the side of the weapon pressed against her chest.

The mercenary realized her intent a beat too late, jerking on the trigger after the barrel was already past her shoulder. A half a dozen shots went wide on a single trigger pull, the harsh recoil jarring his hand enough to buy Kristin an extra second or two. Ears still ringing, the mercenary's curses sounding like they were coming from the end of a long tunnel, Kristin grabbed her attacker's hand and twisted sharply as she dug her thumb into the nerve bundle at the base of his thumb.

"LUCAS, RUN!" the doctor shouted as their attacker lost his grip on the machine pistol and sent it clattering to the floor.

With his weapon lost, the mercenary cocked his fist back, but Kristin lunged into his body before he could sling a punch, her momentum enough to send them both tumbling.

Torn between the impulse to help and his training to do as ordered, Lucas stood poised on the balls of his feet for a moment, uncertain what to do.

Despite being caught by surprise, Westphalen's assailant was still larger and stronger. Twisting, he quickly got a choke hold on the doctor and scrambled to his feet, dragging her along for the ride. Noting Lucas, he started toward the dropped weapon as he warned the teen, “I’m gonna get that gun, and if you run, I’ll blow her head off.”

“Go!” Kristin snarled as she struggled against the arm locked across her throat.

No, Lucas couldn't do that. Instead, he twisted and launched himself at the two adults in one move, lashing out with his fists in hopes of taking their attacker down.

He never had a chance.

The mercenary shoved Lucas back with his free hand, then backhanded the boy to send him to the deck in an ungainly sprawl.

“You're dead!” the terrorist snarled in a rage. He hurled Westphalen away hard enough to throw her to the floor and dove for the lost machine pistol. He had it in hand and pointed at them while the woman and teenager were still scrambling for their feet.

Westphalen stepped in front of Lucas and threw her arms wide, shielding the teen as much as possible.

“You wanna live?” the terrorist snarled, then more softly. “Beg.”

 “He’s just a boy,” Kristin whispered almost inaudibly. “Please don’t do this.”

Their attacker grinned. “Not good enough.”

Kristin saw his finger start to tighten on the trigger and reacted on instinct, twisting as she lunged into Lucas, throwing them both to the floor. She threw herself protectively across the boy even as an explosion of gunfire assaulted her ears.

Sprawled across Lucas, her ears still ringing from the percussive blasts, it took Kristin a moment to realize that the expected hadn’t happened. She pushed up on one hand, staring down at Lucas who was staring up with equal confusion. She looked down, noting the absence of blood with some disbelief. No sign of any wounds. She twisted around, gaze going to where her assailant had stood.

He was still there, but in a sprawl on the floor, his body splotched with randomly spaced blood stains.

The dark blonde giant who had stopped her before stepped fully into the room and tipped up the smoking Uzi in his right hand. He drew an automatic pistol from shoulder holster and aimed it at the two people still on the floor. “I hate it when people don’t follow orders,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m not going to have that problem with you, now am I?”

Kristin shook her head stiffly. “No,” she croaked.

“Good...that’s what I like to hear.”

Several more men entered the room behind him, all well armed and all careful not to let their gazes stray too long on the dead man.

“Because from here on out, I own you.” Hollister calmly reholstered his handgun, then passed the Uzi back to one of the others. “Get up,” he ordered.

The boy and woman staggered to their feet, both watching their captors with dazed expressions.

“Donalson, take the kid back to the ship," Hollister ordered, his gaze never wavering from Kristin, his tone grim.

The big Aussie moved past the blonde and grabbed Lucas by the arm, yanking him away from Westphalen. Lucas tried to struggle, but was no match for the bigger man.

“Damn you!” the teenager shouted as he twisted in Donalson’s grip and tried to land a blow to the man’s jaw. The effort glanced off of Donalson’s meaty shoulder.

“Lucas, don’t—” Westphalen snapped and took one step toward the two.

Hollister’s hand lashed out, hauling her up by the collar until her toes barely touched the floor and she was pressed against his broad chest. His eyes were deadly intent as they held hers. Completely ignoring the struggle going on only a few feet away, he caught her jaw with fingers strong enough to break bone.

Lucas suddenly froze, no longer resisting. Even the mercenaries seemed uncertain as to how to respond.

“Go with him, boy, or I’ll make you watch.”

Kristin swallowed hard, but her eyes never left Hollister’s as she ordered, “Lucas, go,” her voice perilously close to cracking.

“Doctor Westphalen...Kristin...” the boy pleaded and she could hear tears in his voice.

“Go!” the woman growled through clenched teeth.

Then Lucas didn’t have any choices left as he was hauled from the room.

Hollister studied Westphalen’s face silently for a long moment. “I have to give Bridger credit, he always did have good taste in women.”

“Nathan?” Kristin whispered in confusion.

“Yes...Nathan...” Hollister agreed with icy sarcasm. He twisted his hand even harder in the collar of her shirt until his knuckles were braced hard against the underside of her jawbone, then lifted, taking her all the way off the ground with no more apparent effort than most people would have shown in picking up a small child.

Close to choking, Kristin clung to his wrist in an effort to take the pressure off her throat and kicked wildly in an almost feral effort to escape. He didn't appear to notice.

Hollister leaned into her face. “Before this is over, there won’t be anything of you left....” he hissed.

Kristin stared deep into his eyes and forgot the pain in her body as she faced the demon’s eye of rage staring back at her. It was primal beyond anything she had ever experienced. Then the hand at her chin shifted to the back of her neck. A sharp blaze of pain overwhelmed the woman’s nervous system, and everything went black.


“GET DOWN!” the scream rang across the blue desert night as the sound of voices tripped through the backstreets of Jahal. A group of teenagers turned into the street, laughter turning to confusion as they got a look at the black garbed men and women moving through the shadows. “GET DOWN!” Kathy screamed again in Farsi, some part of her still human enough to refuse to be a part of the slaughter of children.

Kinney saw a weapon come up, centering on the kids, and she slammed a hand into the barrel, knocking it upward. Machine gun fire stitched the side of one of the buildings, leaving pockmarks in the aging adobe.

“RUN!” she shouted to the teens in Farsi even as Bryan swung his weapon on around, whipping it across her face. Pain short circuiting her ability to think, she went down hard as more gunfire and screams echoed across the night. All around them lights began flickering on in the ancient houses on and they could hear the sound of voices and rustle of people waking.

“Move out!” came the counter order, and she was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and hauled to her feet.

Pushed to a hard run, Kathy found herself gasping for air while the others breathed easily with the mechanical heart and lungs she had been unable to receive. Terrified of being left behind because she was unable to keep up, she ignored the pain.

The locals started firing on them more than a block before they reached the beach and soon after that RPGs flared and a dozen fires lit the night.

They hit the beach where the rafts were still waiting and began to scramble back into the water. She was almost to a raft when a hard hand clawed into her sweater, yanking her around and backward and nearly off her feet until she was face to face with Bryan.

The face staring down at her was twisted in rage, the eyes glowing the same red as the fires blazing in the city behind them. “DAMN YOU!!!!” he screamed and shook her hard.

“BRYAN, NO!” she pleaded as he kept shaking her and screaming.

Kinney screamed in horror as the muscles beneath the flesh in her arms flexed and rippled beyond her control. The scars on her bare arms were the same as those on Bryan’s and he laughed at her.

“Please, God, NO!” the woman begged as he spun, still holding her and fired the weapon in his other hand. She could see every bullet in flight, moving so painfully slowly that it seemed they weren’t moving at all. She reached as if to catch one and it tore easily through her palm. They struck the small child at the edge of the beach one by one, throwing the tiny body into the air like a rag doll. It flopped end over end as bullets kept hitting the mark.

“NO!!!!” Kinney howled, twisting wildly against the hand that held her suspended above the ground. The pain, and random twitching of muscles became an agony that tore her apart. She hung in midair, surrounded by fire and flames as cables lashed just beneath the skin ripped free, slashing through flesh and bone. Dripping with blood and gore, they rose around her....

“Captain...Captain...”

Kathleen Kinney snapped awake, and blinked rapidly as disorientation set in. It took a moment for her shaking hands to fumble the switch on and open the vid-link. “Yes, Mister Enderly?” she rasped as his face came up on the vid-screen on the wall of her cabin.

“You asked to be notified when the transport was about to come aboard.”

“Yes, thank you,” she said quickly and snapped to her feet, hoping that Enderly had attributed her state to being waken out of a sound sleep. “What’s our status, otherwise?”

“The romeo broke dock about twenty minutes ago. We’ve got a solid position on her and are continuing pursuit.”

“Good,” Kinney sighed. “Notify the SeaVenture that we’re in pursuit. They’ll need to check the base ASAP.”

“It’s already been done.” Enderly assured her before adding, “Captain,” the commander’s voice caught at the hatchway and she spun back. “Are you all right?”

Kinney smiled as reassuringly as she was able. “I’m fine. I’ll be in the launch bay if you need me.”


Nathan Bridger didn’t really know what to expect as the small launch docked inside of the bigger submarine. Still cold and damp from the sea drop, he shivered as he reached for the sealed pack of spare clothes and gear on the floor near the seat. As he watched the Russian pilot communicating with the Nemesis, he wished again that O’Neill was along to translate. The young pilot’s very limited English was hardly up to the job of relaying any information about the events at the science base. As a result, they’d had no news since leaving the helicopter and no way of requesting any.

The craft settled into the docking grips, then was bumped and jarred a bit as an airlock was attached and tested. A moment later, the pilot slipped out of his seat and moved to open to main hatch.

Nathan Bridger pulled up short a moment later as he stepped past the Russian sailor and into the Nemesis’ launch bay. His officers were only a half step behind him, but he forgot them as his eyes touched on the woman waiting only a few short yards away.

It was startling to realize that she was older now, no longer an uncertain young lieutenant. The eyes that met his were emotionless, the corners creased from squinting at monitors and in dark corridors while several threads of grey had woven through her dark hair, long enough now that it nearly touched her shoulders instead of being cut military short.

“Captain Bridger,” she said and saluted formally.

He noted that her uniform was creased and mussed as if she had slept in it, making the sharp salute seem a little off its mark. “Kinney,” Bridger murmured and returned the salute. “Has there been any news?” he asked without further preamble.

Kinney took a deep breath and swallowed hard before answering, and he knew. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Bridger distantly heard Hitchcock’s sobbed, “Oh God,” and Ford’s hissed “Damn,” as his eyes snapped closed. He expected pain, but it didn’t hit. There was just numbness. It was like his heart stopped beating and the rest of his body just didn’t know enough to lay down and die. Ford asked a question that didn’t manage to cut through the buzzing in Bridger’s brain, but his ears picked out the uneasy answer that Kinney gave.

“We know they were discovered and we heard shots fired.”

Bridger’s eyes snapped open, pinning Kinney to the floor as he demanded. “You didn’t see them die?”

Kinney didn’t drop her eyes the way she once would have as she answered in a gentle voice. “We lost the main signal just about the time they were found. The system came back online momentarily and we heard shots. There’s really no way they could have gotten away...I’m sorry, Captain.”

“But you don’t know that Kristin and Lucas are dead, Dammit?” Bridger snarled, holding on to what little hope he could find.

Kinney seemed about to snap something, but caught herself and admitted quietly. “No, it’s not absolutely certain, but—”

“Then what the hell are you doing to get them back?”

“Captain,” Ford interposed between the two officers, trying to calm his CO. “Take it easy.”

Too tired and too stressed, Bridger’s normally cool temper was suddenly strung by a gossamer thread. “You take it easy,” he snarled and knocked the younger man’s hand off his arm without losing focus on Kinney. “Now what are you doing?”

“We're in pursuit of the submarine. When we apprehend it, if there are survivors,” she said putting extra emphasis on the if, “then we will, of course, do everything possible to retrieve them. But my primary mission is to prevent that submarine from doing any further harm.”

Bridger seemed to be about to say something when the intercom cut in. “Captain, this is Enderly. I think you’d better get back to the bridge.”

Kinney’s chin snapped up toward the ceiling as she responded, “Problem?”

“Just get up here,” Enderly clipped before the comm went silent.

Kinney gestured to two waiting junior officers. “See to our guests. I’ll be on the bridge," she snapped and started for the door.

Bridger was right behind her while Ford the others were right behind him.

“I’m coming with you,” the former captain of the seaQuest stated without asking for permission.


Kristin Westphalen was too dazed to resist as an ammonia capsule was crushed under her nose, jerking her back to full consciousness. She tried to gasp for air only to gag on a piece of rough cloth that was tied in her mouth. Hard hands hauled her unceremoniously to her feet before she was ready, and she stumbled, instantly realizing as she tried to catch herself, that her hands were tied securely at the small of her back.

“You get your captain now, Godammit!” a man’s voice snarled as she was shoved forward. She stumbled again, but was caught by the hair and pulled upright by a brutal hand. “Unless you want to watch her slashed to bits.” In the span of a heartbeat, she found herself hauled back against a man’s brawny chest, head yanked back, a knife against her throat.

“Please, don’t do anything rash,” the young man on the vid-screen attempted to calm the situation. “The captain is on her way.”

“Because I’ve got a message for you to give to a man named Nathan Bridger and if I have to carve her to pieces to get it delivered, I’m more than willing.”


“Dear God,” Kinney exhaled as she entered the bridge just in time to catch the last few words. She pulled up short, instantly recognizing her old friend. “Bryan?”

Bridger saw too, but didn’t recognize the man on the screen as the same young officer he had once watched a committee of admirals discipline then commandeer. He only saw a woman he cared for being brutalized. He stepped past Kinney before she could stop him, and straight into the camera’s eye next to Enderly. “Deliver it yourself.”

“Captain Nathan Bridger,” the man holding Westphalen snarled in a voice laced with mad hate.

“You want me, I’m here. Just let her go.”

“You don’t recognize me, do you, old man?” Westphalen’s captor demanded bitterly.

“Should I?” Bridger snapped.

“Hollister, Bryan Hollister...and you don’t give me orders anymore. I’ll let the lady go if and when I decide.”

“Hollister,” Bridger whispered in a shocked voice as he hunted for some sign of the young man he’d known. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded at last.

“Hurting you,” Hollister snarled and tightened his hold on Westphalen. “I didn’t know you were aboard the sub that’s trailing us, but since you are, I’ll just say this once—you go ahead and keep following us. Come too close, try to board us, or any other little tricks and the woman and the boy are dead. I’ll let you know when I want you.”

“Why?” Bridger demanded.

“If I cut them, you bleed, old man, and I want to watch you bleed.” Hollister’s mouth twitched into a twisted grin as he finished.

“If you harm either one of them,” Bridger swore, “I’ll kill you myself.”

“Threats,” Hollister hissed. He trailed the knife slowly down Kristin’s torso, smiling at the rage he saw on Bridger’s face. “You’re in no position to make threats, not if you want the lady back alive.” He tightened his hold on weapon and shifted it to a point just beneath Kristin’s left shoulder, pressing the tip inexorably into soft flesh.

“No!” Bridger yelled while Westphalen whimpered softly and tried to twist her shoulder out of the way.

“Beg,” Hollister growled as blood welled up under the blade.

“Please don’t hurt her,” Bridger pleaded.

“That’s better,” Hollister murmured in a satisfied voice and pulled the knife blade away from Westphalen’s shoulder. He smiled at Bridger and his voice dropped, becoming more in control and smoother. “Don’t worry. The lady’s fine for the moment. After all, she and I have so many things to do to pass the time until you get here.”

Already pushed to limit, Bridger’s temper snapped. “Don’t you touch her.”

Kinney, who had been standing in the background, not wanting to give away the one trump card they might still have, saw it happen. “Get him under control,” she hissed to Ford, then gestured to the communications officer and Enderly at the same time as she stepped into the secondary communications station. The tiny video camera that had captured Nathan’s image shut down at the same second that the one on Kinney came up.

Kinney’s head came up and she stared into the video image of her old friend with deceptive calm. “Hello, Bryan.” She was aware of Ford and Enderly physically restraining an enraged Nathan Bridger, but ignored it in favor of focusing her full concentration on Hollister. “It’s been a long time.”

Hollister flinched, muscles visibly tensing. “Back to kissing admirals' bootstraps, eh?” he taunted.

“Hardly,” Kinney said mildly. “So, would you care to tell me just what you think you’re doing?”

“Making him pay for what he did to me,” Hollister said almost petulantly.

Kinney frowned in genuine confusion. “By threatening a woman and a boy who were under his command?”

“Oh, she was under his command, all right. And you can tell him that until he gets here alone, she’ll be under mine.”

Kinney took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no question in anyone’s mind exactly what Hollister was threatening. She tried to appeal to his decency. “Bryan, please, don’t do this. Whatever reasons you believe you have for hating Bridger, there’s no reason for going after these two.”

“There’s every reason. It’ll hurt him. You should enjoy that as much as I will..”

Kinney shook her head, looking genuinely exhausted as she responded. “No. I think we’ve all been hurt enough.”

Her simple comment seemed to retrigger Hollister’s wild rage. “Oh, no,” he growled. “His pain hasn’t even begun.”

“Bryan, please—” Kinney started to beg only to be cut off as the communications channel closed. “Damn...” the woman sighed when it became obvious that the other submarine wasn’t going to respond.

“What now?” Bridger demanded as he shook loose of Ford and Enderly.

Kathleen looked back over her shoulder at her former commanding officer and shrugged. “We continue pursuit and see what happens next. Right now, I think it’s best if we hang back unless he tries to hit another base the way he did Whale’s Point.” She paused for a long beat and rubbed the back of her neck before murmuring thoughtfully, “Somehow I don’t think he’s going to though.” He apparently had what he wanted now.

“So you leave Lucas and Kristin in that lunatic’s hands?” Nathan snarled.

“If you have a plan for getting them back without getting them killed, I’m all ears,” Kinney snapped, her own frayed temper starting to show.

“Or maybe he’s right and you do want to watch me bleed,” Nathan rasped.

Kinney took one step forward before Ford and Enderly got between the two. The woman pulled up short, then took a deep breath and backed off.

 Ford braced his hands on Bridger's shoulders as if he was afraid the older man was still going to try something. He knew it was primarily fear and exhaustion that was making his superior act the way he was, but if someone didn’t get the situation under control it would blow up completely. His eyes flicked around the bridge, taking in the battle weary crew of the Nemesis. He focused back on Bridger. “Sir,” he said intensely, “look at these people. No one here wants anything to happen to Lucas and Dr. Westphalen. They’ve been fighting too hard to keep them alive.”

Bridger looked up, eyes refocusing, and stared at the bridge crew watching him with shocked expressions. He’d been a captain too long not to recognize the signs of a crew fighting to save lives and failing at too many turns. His gaze moved on to Kinney and in the odd lights cast by the computer screens and various monitors scattered around the bridge, he saw the hurt and anger carved in her already stark features. In an instant, the fury deflated, leaving agony in its wake. “I...I’m sorry,” the captain of the seaQuest murmured at last and pulled away from his first officer. He turned away and hurried out.

“Captain,” Jonathan called and started to hurry after Bridger.

Kinney caught his forearm, stopping him as she murmured, “No, I’ll go.” She glanced back at her first officer. “Mr. Enderly, you have the bridge,” she ordered before disappearing after Bridger.

She found him in the companionway, head down, hands braced against the wall as he tried to get himself back under control.

Kinney made no attempt to touch her former commanding officer, just watched for a long moment before murmuring, “You okay?”

“Too tired, too cold, and maybe just too damn old,” Nathan rasped without looking up.

“I know the feeling,” Kathy admitted sadly before asking carefully, “You and the woman are lovers?”

Nathan’s head came up as he nodded slowly.

Kinney folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the wall. “And the boy, why him?”

Bridger shook his head. “I guess you could say, we developed a sort of father and son relationship aboard the seaQuest...”

Silence hung heavy between the two before Kinney finally whispered, “I knew he was angry at you, but...” she trailed off, shaking her head slowly. “I didn’t know it was this bad,” she admitted at last.

Bridger looked back at the woman, his expression genuinely confused. “Why?”

Kinney shrugged. “I guess he blamed you for allowing Gilby and Martinson to put him into the augmentation program...or maybe...hell, I don’t know. I’m not sure even Bryan knows."

“I had no idea they were going to offer a deal like that. I didn’t even know about the program until Jahal hit the press.... When Admiral Gilby said they were offering you two a deal, I assumed they were going to give you a simple discharge rather than a dishonorable. Hell, Bryan nearly beat a marine to death. It never occurred to me that...” Bridger’s voice trailed off and he shrugged helplessly.

“You really didn’t know...” Kinney whispered softly, then fell silent, drawing into herself for a long moment. Finally she refocused on the man watching her expectantly. “We were told you'd been informed of the deal and agreed it was for the best. .”

Bridger just stood shaking his head. “I didn’t...” he said almost inaudibly. “I didn’t know.”

“Which means Martinson and Gilby lied.... Gee, there’s a surprise.”

“What happened?” Bridger asked hesitantly, far from certain he really wanted the entire truth.

“We were offered a choice, Leavenworth or the augmentation program. When they explained what they wanted to do, I was ready to take prison and was told that I’d get ten years for attempted murder. I was already losing my husband and my son. I couldn’t face that too. Gilby personally promised it would be a way to get our lives back.” She shook her head disgustedly.

“How bad was it?” Bridger asked quietly.

Kinney exhaled the single word, “Bad.” Her eyes slid closed, and she was silent for a long moment before continuing. “I had a lot of rejection problems, but Bryan took to the surgery like a duck to water. I was in hell, but at first, he was doing great...but later..." she trailed off momentarily, a heavy sigh escaping before she continued, "I don't know whether it was all the drugs or the constant pain...but it really messed with his head...with a lot of people's heads." She shook her head slowly. "He just became someone I didn't know...angry, paranoid, wild mood swings, violent outbursts. He nearly killed me when everything blew up in Jahal." She shook her head. "Shot a bunch of kids with all the emotion of hitting paper targets."

“My God,” Bridger exhaled, not quite believing what she was telling him. He'd seen the newspaper reports of course, but they'd been distant, almost unreal.

“It was the same for most of the troops involved.... Only a few of us managed to mainstream after the program shut down..." her voice trailed off.

Bridger frowned, trying to resolve what she was telling him with the generally quiet young man he’d known. He only remembered Hollister losing his temper once, and that had cost him his career. “And you think Hollister is still being affected by it all?" he said at last

“Yeah,” Kinney confirmed. “He has to stay on the anti-rejection drugs just to survive, same with the painkillers. As large as his muscle mass looked to be, I’m sure he’s still on anabolics too.”

“You think it all affected his mind.”

“The drug cocktail he needs just to survive is a recipe for madness. I know he was locked up in the Bethesda Psychiatric wing for awhile, but I doubt they could help him much. I'm surprised they let him out considering the obvious instability and paranoia.”

“What about you?” Bridger asked carefully. He had to know how far he could trust this woman in whatever storm might be coming.

Kinney didn’t take offense at the question, only shrugged. “It took two years of steady surgery to take the cybernetics out. Admiral Trent and Captain Adams sponsored my recommission into the submarine corps. I guess they felt after I testified about the events at Jahal and straightened my life out that I’d earned a little forgiveness. Trent is the one who put me up for the captaincy of the Nemesis when Adams retired.”

Bridger nodded, absorbing that. He’d known Jim Trent for close to thirty years, liked and trusted the man’s judgment. If Trent considered Kinney stable enough to hand her the keys to a nuclear sub, he was inclined to follow suit.

“Now can I ask you a question, sir?”

Bridger noted the formality, but made no comment, just nodded.

“Were you sleeping with Marilyn Stark?”

That one caught Nathan by surprise and he choked on a surprised, “Hell, no.”

Kinney’s mouth quirked in a wry smile. “She said you were.”

“No,” Bridger said quite emphatically.

“Well, she was sleeping with that marine that wouldn’t leave Bryan alone that night.”

Bridger frowned as what Kinney was saying sunk in. “A setup?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Kinney agreed with surprisingly little heat. “The thing I’ll always wonder is whether she just did it to get us out of the way and get ahead or if Gilby was behind it. He was a friend of her father’s, you know.”

Bridger sighed softly, and they both fell silent, each lost in private thoughts and memories. Finally Nathan spoke up. “You know more about how his mind works...do you think he’ll kill them?”

Kinney nodded hesitantly. “Probably...but I think he’ll want you there to watch.”

Nathan’s eyes slid closed for a long moment as he absorbed her words.

Kinney took a deep breath before continuing. “I think you’d better brace yourself, Captain. Bryan’s become completely unpredictable. You can’t afford to react without thinking because if you do, he will kill them.”

Bridger nodded in agreement, but didn’t say anything.

“Captain,” Enderly spoke as he and Ford stepped hesitantly into the companionway, both half expecting to find a duel in progress.

Both captains looked up, then Kinney refocused on her former superior officer. “Why don’t you let Mr. Enderly show you and your people to quarters. I suspect you could all use a chance to get cleaned up and get some rest.”

Bridger stared at the woman for a long moment and seemed about to argue, then finally nodded in agreement.


"Put her with the boy," Hollister snarled as he flung her away from himself.

Badly dazed, Kristin didn’t resist as she was dragged off the bridge by a tall, heavily muscled mercenary who seemed to be Hollister's second in command.

Gripping her upper arm tightly, the Australian hauled Kristin along beside him so fast she might have gone down if not for his hard hold. He made no attempt to slow for her sake or take care of her injuries, but neither did he cause additional discomfort either. It was as if she was simply a package to be delivered and he took no notice of the contents.

Kristin tried to track their course as they moved quickly through the tight twists and turns of the small sub, but badly dazed and pushed to hurry, it quickly became hopeless. By the time they stopped at a barred hatchway, she was thoroughly turned around.

Ignoring her, Donalson slipped the bar on the hatch free, then spun the lock and pushed the door wide. Kristin caught sight of Lucas curled on a small bunk before she was shoved hard. She stumbled into the room and fell to one knee, landing badly even as she heard the door closing behind her.

“Doctor,” the boy gasped as he vaulted off the cot and to his knees in front of the woman. Lucas braced one hand across her shoulders before she could collapse to the floor. “Just hold on,” he whispered desperately as he fought with the ropes binding her wrists together.

The knots were tight and it took him several moments, but finally the ropes fell away and she brought her arms stiffly forward, wincing as overstressed muscles protested the movement.

Lucas untied the gag and threw it aside. “Are you okay?” he whispered uncertainly, terrified of what might have happened while they were apart yet desperate to help.

"I'm fine," Kristin assured him, then looked up, framing his face with her hands as she stared intently at him. “What about you? Did they hurt you in any way?”

The teen sniffed a little shakily as he shook his head. “No..not really...but that man, he threatened to...I mean...did he...did he hurt you?”

Kristin massaged her wrists to ease circulation back into her hands despite the pain of touching them where the ropes had left her skin abraded and bloody. “Not much," she assured him to ease his fears. "He just used me to threaten Nathan. There’s something between the two of them and we seem to be the means of revenge.”

“What are we going to do?” Lucas questioned urgently.

Westphalen shook her head. “I wish I knew,” she admitted. As she started to rise, she staggered and might have fallen, but Lucas quickly reached out and with his help, she all but fell onto one of the two inset wall bunks.

Anything else they might have said was cut off as the hatch was unlatched and reopened. Lucas spun, ready to put up a fight. The tall Aussie standing in the doorway arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Westphalen caught Lucas’ arm, tugging him back so that if she rose, she would be between Donalson and the boy.

The mercenary noted the move and nodded in acknowledgment. He had a bag on one shoulder and he slung it down onto the floor before reaching back and pulling the hatch shut. He pulled a pair of handcuffs off his belt and tossed them to Lucas with the instructions, “Lock a cuff on one wrist, then pass the chain through the bar on the wall over there, then lock the other wrist.”

“And if I don’t?” the boy challenged.

Donalson just stared at him.

“Just do it,” Kristin ordered.

“Doctor,” Lucas hissed, but Westphalen jerked her head toward the back wall, gaze still focused on the newcomer as she ordered, “Do as he told you, Lucas.” They were in no condition to fight, and so far, Donalson had proven to be one of the saner mercenaries they'd encountered.

Glaring at the mercenary the whole time, the teenager moved back and did as told.

When the cuffs were solidly fastened, the Aussie lifted the backpack onto the bunk opposite Westphalen and reached inside to retrieve a canvas bag. A faded red cross on one side marked it as a first aid kit and he unzipped it and tossed it open onto the bench beside Westphalen's hip.

The doctor watched it out of the corner of her eye, hoping to catch sight of a scalpel or anything else she might be able to use against their captors.

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, he caught her chin and forced it up so that she had to focus on him. “For both your sakes, don’t try anything.”

Her jaw muscles flexed as she ground her teeth in frustration, but she finally nodded in agreement.

“Good,” he murmured, then dropped to one knee in front of her before pulling a wicked looking, serrated knife from his belt.

“NO!” Lucas shouted, lunging against the cuffs.

The mercenary glanced over and shrugged as he mechanically slit Kristin’s pants leg from the ankle to somewhere mid-thigh, revealing her badly gashed knee.

The boy fell back against the wall, breathing hard as Donalson resheathed the knife.

The man looked over. “Relax, kid. Hollister went to a lot of effort to get his hands on you two. He’s not likely to want anything to happen to you.”

“Yet,” Westphalen exhaled.

Donalson turned back to her. “Yet,” he confirmed, before looking back down at her bloody and swollen knee. He used gauze and peroxide to clean the injury, noting that she did little more than tense each time he touched the area. After several long moments, he looked back up, eyes meeting the woman’s darker ones. “That’s gotta hurt like a bitch.”

Pain was evident in the pinched expression on Westphalen’s face, but she only stared at him, unwilling to give any support to his words.

The mercenary nodded silently, a certain respect glittering in his grey eyes. He continued his work, cleaning up and bandaging the injuries done during their capture in silence, speaking only when he needed to give her instructions. When he was finished, he handcuffed her to a bunk support, then moved to the back of the small cabin to check Lucas’ injuries.

Lucas glared at the Aussie as he drew near, but Kristin’s snapped order, “Do what he tells you, Lucas,” kept him from kicking out and struggling the way he wanted.

The teenager wasn’t nearly as badly bruised as the woman so it took only a few minutes to clean his injuries. When the mercenary finished, he took a moment to repack things, then retrieved a stack of pale blue fabric which he tossed that onto the bunk opposite Westphalen. “There’s a change of clothes for both of you,” he informed Kristin, then nodded toward the flimsy door at the back of the cabin. “And a shower in the bathroom. I’ll have someone bring mattresses and blankets for the bunks.”

Westphalen frowned up at him. “Why the sudden interest in our welfare?”

“Hollister wants you both to last out the game. You’re no good to him half dead.” He reached out, using Westphalen’s hair to force her head up. “And he wants you clean.”

Kristin twisted her head away and he let her, moving away to reopen the hatch that led into the hallway. After tossing the backpack out, he snapped the handcuff key off the ring on his belt and held it up for Westphalen to see. “Okay, doctor, this is a simple drill: I’m going to hand you this key, then step into the hallway. When I'm in the hallway and only when I'm in the hallway, you will unlock your handcuffs and toss them through the hatch, then go and unlock the kid’s cuffs, toss them out, then the key. You both stay in the back of the cabin until I have closed and locked the hatch, understood?”

Westphalen nodded and accepted the tiny key as he pressed it into her palm. She waited until he had stepped back through the hatch before following his instructions, freeing herself and tossing the handcuffs through the open doorway. Her eyes held Lucas’, silently willing him to do as told as she freed his wrists. She half turned to toss the cuffs back through the door and felt him start to move at the same time.

Lucas tried to lunge past the woman at his antagonist, but Westphalen got her arms around his chest, holding him back. The boy didn’t fight to get loose, but she could feel the tension in every muscle. When she looked back up, Donalson had the same knife he’d used to split open her pants leg, out and ready.

“The cuffs and the key,” the mercenary ordered in a deadly flat voice.

With one hand still around the boy’s shoulders, Kristin tossed the cuffs and key together and they landed in the doorway. Donalson kicked them out of the way of the hatch, then slammed it and threw the bolts

The sound of the tumblers falling into place echoed through the small room and she shuddered with every discordant ring of metal.

Kristin pressed her face into Lucas’ shoulder, feeling unwanted tears fall for the first time since it had all begun. “Don’t you dare do anything that stupid again,” she ordered huskily.

“You should've let me,” Lucas swore. “They’re just going to kill us anyway.” He was shaking almost as hard as she and close to tears of his own.

Kristin caught his shoulders and turned him so that they were facing each other. “Lucas, I don’t know why this is happening, but I do know that Nathan and the U.E.O. are doing everything possible to get us out of here. Whatever happens, you have to do what they tell you. Don’t give them any excuses to do anything more than they already have.”

Lucas’s jaw muscles knotted with strain, but he finally nodded in agreement.


Bryan Hollister’s hand was shaking and he couldn’t make it stop as he switched off the communications console. He tightened it into a fist, trying unsuccessfully to will the weakness away. The tremors only increased, spreading up his forearm, making muscles jump and tremble in ways he couldn’t control. Focused on himself, he didn’t hear the soft thud of boots until Donalson was almost on top of him.

Hollister spun, drawing a pistol with his left hand as he moved. He was almost as good with that hand as the right. It was one of the reasons he had done so well with augment training. Ambidextrousness was almost a requirement for anyone who had been as mechanically enhanced as he had.

The Australian eyed the weapon in Bryan’s hand disdainfully. “You wanted a report on the prisoners.”

Hollister slipped the safety back on, then reholstered the weapon and sat down, careful to keep his right hand from view.

“The woman’s pretty bashed up, but it’s nothing serious. She’s cooperating for the moment. Probably trying to protect the kid as much as possible. I’ll be honest though. My guess is that if you push that one too far, you may regret it.”

“I hardly think that one middle-aged female is much of a threat,” Bryan sneered.

Donalson shrugged. “The boy’s scared...defiant...but he’ll do what the woman tells him.”

“I don’t care if he’ll do what she tells him. I want to know if he’ll do what I tell him,” Bryan snapped angrily.

“Play them off against one another,” Donalson advised quietly. “And they’ll do what you want. The biggest thing you’ve got over either of them is the threat to injure the other.”

Hollister laughed dryly. “Threaten Peter to intimidate Paul,” he murmured almost inaudibly. “Sensible enough advice, I suppose,” he continued, distrust glittering in his eyes. Suddenly, his expression shuttered. “Thanks for the report, now I’m sure you have other duties to see to.”

Donalson’s jaw muscles worked convulsively, but he didn’t immediately respond. Finally, he murmured, “Right,” and started to exit. Hollister’s voice caught him at the door.

“One more thing.”

The Aussie’s head swung back around.

“You tell your bitch of an employer that I’ll decide how things are run and not to call this boat unless I call her first.”

Donalson’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he seemed about to answer, only to catch himself. “You’re the boss here.”

Bryan’s mouth twitched in a sarcastic smile. “Don’t forget it.”

Donalson’s expression was bitterly dangerous, but he ducked his head in acknowledgment before hurrying out.


“Commander,” a young comm-tech shouted to Enderly. “Somebody ran a signal into the romeo.”

Enderly spun, focusing his attention on the communications station. “Was it long enough to get a fix on the source?”

“I’m trying to triangulate now, sir.”

Enderly held his wrist-comm to his mouth and activated the call switch. “Captain, this is Enderly.”

It took a moment for Kinney to respond and when she did, her voice was raspy sounding. “Yeah, I’m here. What have you got for me?”

“Somebody just contacted our romeo. Owens is trying to get a fix on the signal now.”

“Did you record?”

Owens broke into the channel, answering for the first officer. “It’s encrypted, but I started recording as soon as I picked it up. We might be able to crack the encryption program.”

“I’ll be there in five,” Kinney said sharply, all previous muzziness gone from her voice.


Lucas tried to resist the two guards that came for Kristin, but the men only shoved him back onto a bunk, laughing at his inability to fight them, then hauled her out.

They shoved her into a small room packed with electronic equipment, but dominated by the tall figure standing in one corner.

Bryan Hollister turned and waved his men away with the quiet command. “Bolt the door.” His eyes landed on Westphalen. “I don’t feel like being disturbed.”

He was trying to scare her, Kristin realized, and it was working. Folding her arms protectively across her chest, she backed as far away from the giant as she could in the small room.

The two guards noted the response and started to laugh, but a glare from her captor shut them up and they quickly did as ordered.

Kristin stood waiting for the worst to happen, fully expecting to be dead before it was all over with.

Hollister just stared at her for a long moment before reaching out to touch a lock of still damp hair that lay on her shoulder.

It took everything she had not to flinch at his touch, but instinct told her that he was walking on a razor’s edge of insanity and any move might push him the wrong way. Suddenly, she felt the hand at her shoulder shudder, and her captor yanked his arm away, making a pretense of clasping his palm with the other at the small of his back. She blinked, watching carefully as hard tremors ran up and down his right arm, then jerked her gaze up as she realized that he might not take the scrutiny well. Everything she knew of augments and had seen of this man’s behavior convinced her he was unstable at best.

“You were pretty out of it before,” he stated in a flat, unemotional voice. “Do you remember my name?”

“No,” the doctor answered honestly, uncertain how to take his seeming newfound calm.

“Hollister...Bryan Hollister.”

She just stared at him silently.

“Say it,” he ordered quietly.

“Bryan Hollister,” Kristin rasped.

Hollister smiled slightly, but it was a dangerous rather than friendly expression. “Are you sleeping with Nathan Bridger?” he asked, his voice still deceptively soft.

Kristin just stared at him for a long moment, trying to gauge which answer would buy she and Lucas the best shot at survival. “No,” she whispered at last. “He was my captain aboard the seaQuest.”

“Really?” Hollister murmured. “I could have sworn...” his eyes glinted with a predatory fever that made the doctor press even harder against the wall at her back.

“Then I wonder what this is?” Bryan taunted as he reached with his left hand to activate a switch on one of the computer panels in the room.

An image came up on a wall screen: dark and grainy, it didn’t immediately become obvious what it was until the soft voices of the people in the picture floated through the room. Whispered entreaties and words of endearment surrounded them.

Westphalen’s throat closed and she spun away, not wanting to see the results of such a callous invasion of privacy.

“Now, Doctor,” Bryan taunted. “I thought you just said you two weren’t...” he paused for effect, and made a game of hunting for the right word, “intimate, but that certainly looks like—”

“Sick bastard,” the woman hissed furiously.

Hollister grinned, and leaned close to her ear. “I wish I had a crewmember or two like you,” he whispered in a cruel mockery of a lover’s voice and slid one hand up her center back. “Then again, now, I guess I do.”

“Why don’t you just get it over with?” Kristin demanded roughly.

A second hand curved to her shoulder, his right this time. She could feel the muscles quivering. “I like to take my time,” he hissed near her ear.

Westphalen stared down at his hand as it started trembling with near-palsied vibrations.

Aware of her stare, Hollister jerked his hand away and used his other to straight arm her into the wall, pinning her there with brutal efficiency. The palsied shudders continued to rattle his right hand, but he clenched his fist tightly and thrust it down by his side as he leaned close, whispering all the things he intended to do to her.

His actions were intended to terrify, and they more than did, but as the obscene threats continued, Kristin's temper burned steadily hotter. She'd never liked bullies, and he was the worst kind. "Shut up," she hissed at some point, the raggedly whispered words a mix of plea and command.

"I don't think so," he taunted. "In fact, I think you'd better get used to hearing me...cos I'll be screaming with pleasure before I'm done with you."

It was his laughter that pushed her temper the final distance, driving her strike back in spite of the danger. Her gaze dropped to his trembling hand, her voice icy with disdain as she sneered, “I doubt that," she snarled. "You don't look like you're up to it. In fact it doesn't look like you're up to much."

“Shut up," he snarled, fisting his hand even tighter into the collar of her shirt as he shook her. He would have struck her but he couldn't raise his other hand.

Her lips twisted into a sneer. “Or maybe it’s not the sex that turns you on. Maybe it’s pain and fear. Isn’t that what most rapists enjoy? It makes the weak feel strong.”

“Shut up!” Hollister repeated. The trembling in his right hand increased and he lost his grip on her collar with his left. Struggling with the desperate shudders, he backed away as though she was somehow the cause.

Kristin frowned as she watched him. His breathing had become harsh and erratic, the trembling in the right hand had gone on up his arm, and he was visibly struggling for control. “You sick son-of-a-bitch,” she snarled, pressuring him, hoping to accelerate whatever was happening to him. Maybe the bastard would just drop dead and solve all of her problems.

He staggered back, grabbing the trembling hand with his other. “SHUT UP!” he screamed.

The door suddenly opened and Donalson stepped half inside, one hand on his sidearm as he snapped. “Sir, are you all right?”

Hollister swallowed hard as he focused on the other man. He jerked his chin in Westphalen’s direction. “Get her out of here!” he ordered in a harsh voice.

Donalson grabbed the woman by the upper arm and dragged her back through the door. “Do you need anything else, sir?” he asked, his manner almost too solicitous.

Hollister didn’t seem to notice as he waved them away, his full concentration on the trembling hand. “Just put her back with the boy.”

Donalson yanked Kristin out of the way, then shoved the heavy door shut. For a moment, he stood staring at it, leaving her with the distinct impression he was debating his options. Suddenly he straightened and hurried down the hallway with her firmly in tow.

“That was stupid,” Donalson growled at her when they had entered another companionway.

Westphalen looked up at him in surprise. “Pardon?” she muttered in confusion.

Donalson pulled up short, yanking her to a halt. “Push him too hard and he’ll kill you without even knowing what he’s doing.”

Westphalen’s brows. “Didn’t know you cared,” she muttered sarcastically.

Donalson shook her hard. “Personally, I don’t give a damn whether you live or die,” he snarled, leaving her with no doubt he was telling the truth. “But if he loses it, you and that boy are my only bargaining chip with the U.E.O.. And I don’t plan on losing that ace up my sleeve because you don’t have the brains to keep your mouth shut.”

Westphalen yanked her arm out of his grip and folded it across her chest. “I see,” she said with a sardonic laugh. “Trying to play both sides, are we? Y’know, I really think I should warn you, that rarely works when you’re playing with drug-crazed psychotics."

Donalson grabbed her arm and drug her forward until they were nearly nose to nose. “If you want to have even a tenth of a chance of surviving this, you’ll keep your nose down and your mouth shut,” he warned her. “And if you don’t, I’ll kill you myself.” Then he shoved her ahead of himself in the corridor.

Westphalen rubbed her upper arm where he had grabbed her and doubtless left bruises, as she glared at the man over her shoulder. “I’m really beginning to get tired of being pushed around,” she said very softly and something dangerous glinted in her dark eyes.

The Australian forced down a wave of edginess as he growled. “Get used to it.”


Katherine Hitchcock wanted to sleep, genuinely tried, but she couldn’t get the images from the science base out of her mind and lying in the dark didn't help at all. Which was why she was sitting up on the borrowed bunk, wondering if whoever normally occupied the cabin had left behind any reading material when there was a light knock on the door. Her heart seemed to stop for just a second as the thought that there was more bad news struck her, then Ben Krieg’s voice, low and worried, reached her ears.

“Katie? I...I just wondered...” his voice trailed off.

Hitchcock quickly slid from the bunk and padded over to open the hatch.

Krieg stood there in clean dry pants and a black t-shirt looking...forlorn. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he murmured, looking a little embarrassed over having been worried.

“I’m all right,” she said, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. “Just...” her voice trailed off as she found herself unable to express what she was feeling.

“Yeah,” Krieg muttered with surprising feeling. Somehow, he understood precisely what his ex-wife wasn’t saying. He reached out and ran a hand up her arm as if to assure himself that she was real, then sighed heavily. He brushed his fingers across her cheek and was reminded again of why he had fallen in love with this woman. He wondered, not for the first time, at his own stupidity for losing sight of that. “Look, Katie, whatever happened between us, before...” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words to express something that it had suddenly become very important to him to say right. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, floundering and well aware of it, “for my part in screwing things up.”

Hitchcock smiled fondly, knowing he was trying his damnedest to be sincere. The only time Ben Krieg was ever at a loss for words was when he was being honest. It didn’t come naturally or easily to him, so it seemed to take more effort and thought. “We both made mistakes.” At any other time, Katherine Hitchcock wouldn’t have admitted that at the point of a gun, but somehow with everything that had happened in the last couple of months, holding a grudge over their divorce hardly seemed important. She reached out, using the front of his t-shirt to tug him closer—close enough in fact, that she could lean her forehead against his chest. “Besides, you had your good points.”

She didn’t argue a moment later when his hand curved to the back of her head and he pressed his cheek against her hair.


Nathan Bridger managed to get a few hours of sleep, but once his body’s total exhaustion had been somewhat assuaged it was no use trying for anything more. Finally, he slid from the bunk and pulled on his shoes. He hadn’t even undressed fully upon retiring, afraid something might happen requiring him to respond quickly.

As he moved through the Nemesis, he could feel the eyes of her crew following him, sometimes their expressions sad, other times merely curious.

He found her bridge easily enough despite the fact he’d been out on his feet when an ensign had showed the seaQuest crew to their cabins. As he stared into the darkened bridge, picking out details and technical elements, he had to admire her design even though he’d been on the other side of the funding fight to get her built. He’d argued before the senate that Nemesis was a waste of money, that in the modern age a submarine had to be equipped to be more than just a weapon of war, and that the money would be better spent on the seaQuest. The senators had listened politely, then voted the money to build Nemesis anyway. At the time, he'd been furious, particularly when the designers incorporated several of his more revolutionary advancements. Suddenly, he was glad he'd lost even though it had delayed the seaQuest by nearly four years.

“Keep working on it,” Kinney ordered several members of her bridge crew then slipped away. “Impressive, isn’t she?” she commented to Bridger as she pulled up beside him.

He nodded, still staring grimly into the darkness.

“For what it’s worth,” she said softly. “I figured out pretty quickly that you probably didn’t know...it wasn’t your style.”

It was meant to be an apology of sorts, Bridger realized, but that was the least of things on his mind at that moment. “Was he always this unstable?” he asked.

Kathy started to shake her head, then thought better of it. “I don’t think so anyway...but then I also liked Marilyn Stark back then. Which, probably doesn’t speak well for my people judging skills,” she muttered with a certain wry humor.

“Do you think they have any chance?” Bridger asked, unwilling to be diverted from the question uppermost in his mind.

All traces of humor cleared from the woman’s face. “Not much,” she admitted quietly. “Not bloody much...You know he’s going to want you to go in alone?” she commented after a long pause.

Bridger nodded.

“And you’re going to find a way to go no matter what I do, aren’t you?”

Another nod.

She sighed softly. “Then let me give you a piece of advice.”

Bridger turned his head to peer at her.

A hand floated up to point to the center of her own throat. “You hit him right here, dead center. There are augmentation implants that follow the muscles on either side of the throat, but not the center due to the risk of restricting air passages during combat expansion. Then you go for the eyes...the brain. That's the only way to stop him. Every other major organ is plastic by now...and his skull is plated. Killing will be hell...and you have to kill him, Nathan, because, if you don’t, he will kill you....”