The Hand of Wrath, chapter 7 [PG-13, seaQuest, Bridger/Westphalen, WIP]
the newest chapter is finally up! so sorry for the delay....first came NaNo, as you know--and then writers' block, and then the new semester has been very busy!
enjoy!
index post
A/N: Extra credit goes to my beta goddesses Cam and Darkin: Cam for the beginning of this chapter's first scene (we were discussing this chapter and her muse got going. Gotta love when things like that can happen between two writers!) And Darkin for helping me get around writers' block at a pivotal point. Thanks bunches, girls :) :)
Also, kudos to Aiko and Neo from the RLT as well as April and Ricky from my local NaNo group for your input at certain places. You guys were awesomely helpful. Thanks lots :)
Songs used for inspiration: "The Infinite Tear" by The Cruxshadows and "Love and War" by Drowning Pool.
Chapter 7 ~ Through a Veil of Madness
2018
somewhere in the Pacific
Cowards, she seethed. All of them!
She could salvage this mission. She could still win. The ship was sinking, but she could still-
No. Live.
The voice, so faint she almost missed it, came to Marilyn Stark unbidden. At first she thought one of the crew had dug deep and found the testicular fortitude to remain with their captain, but there was no one about.
Live.
Suddenly she knew who it was. Len's voice, always such a calm on her soul. The love of her life could be nothing else and, for the briefest of moments, she smiled.
Live, Mari. Come home to me.
Maybe she was imagining the voice. Maybe she wasn't. Whatever the case, it got her feet moving. Marilyn made her way off the bridge in the direction of the mini-sub, following behind crewmembers still stumbling toward it themselves. Then suddenly she paused, an epiphany occurring to her. The captain's cruiser!
Turning sharply, she headed in the opposite direction. Built to hold only one, the 15-foot craft was less a boat than it was a submersible cockpit with minimal shields and enough power to supply the miniscule engine and life support system for five days. But it would be enough to get her back to Hawaii if she pushed it. Marilyn was suddenly glad that Le Chein had included it in his illegally obtained D-4, and that his cowardly son appeared to have conveniently forgotten about it in his determination to reach the mini-sub.
"Idiot," she smirked. But Maxwell's loss was her gain. Reaching the hatch, she spun the wheel to the left and flung the door open, not bothering to shut it behind her as she keyed open the cruiser's cockpit. Let the water flood whatever was left after she launched. At least she could potentially deny Bridger that piece of evidence.
Strapping herself in, Marilyn slammed the cockpit shut above her and powered up the cruiser. She felt the D-4 shudder around her, stronger this time, and knew it was beginning to break up. The second the launch sequence was fully initiated, she keyed in a new command and the bay doors unfolded before her. The sea poured in, embracing her little craft and flooding past her into its drowning parent as she shot out into open water. The sonar screen immediately lit up, alerting her to seaQuest's position, as well as the mini-sub slowly escaping in an easterly direction. She turned the cruiser northeast and plotted a course towards Kauai, keeping an eye on the sonar the whole time.
She didn't relax for nearly four hours, until she was certain seaQuest was out of range and apparently either had chosen not to track her or hadn't noticed her at all. Only then did she allow herself a sigh of relief. But relief soon faded into ire.
She couldn't believe it. Her plan was supposed to have been perfect! How could it have possibly fallen apart? Losing the D-4, now that she had almost expected. Maxwell Le Chein was his father's son and, while he cared for more than just wealth, he was still lacking in the intellect department. The "crew" Le Chein had supplied her with were a pathetic bunch, evidenced by their cowardice.
But the virus! That was supposed to have been the piece de resistance. Bridger's smug declaration about having found it still rankled. She still couldn't fathom how. Certainly not by Hitchcock. Yes, that insipid girl was a talented engineer, to give the devil her due. But there was still no way she would have been able to find it. As for Bridger, his background was largely based in the sciences, so it wasn't likely that he had been the one to discover it, either. She would likely never know for certain.
The next several hours passed uneventfully, but her senses remained on high alert. She kept an eagle eye on the sonar, both to keep track of any nearby ships and to have forewarning in case Bridger had caught wind of her trail and intended to come after her.
Marilyn's thoughts drifted back to Len. She had not heard from her wife in two weeks and hoped she was doing all right. After the fallout surrounding her forced resignation from NORPAC, it had been Len who had pointed out that the best thing to do was leave Annapolis, especially since they were attempting to force her into psychiatric evaluation. And there was no way she was ever going to talk to a shrink.
Thankfully, they did not have to scramble to choose another place to live. Len had a small house on Kauai, inherited from a grandparent who had died before she and Marilyn had met. Moving there had been easy; they had mutually decided to pack as little as possible and just start over. It was the staying on alert that kept Marilyn on edge. The military that had once been her life might have been absorbed into the UEO, but she wouldn't be surprised if they were looking for her, whether to force her into the demanded psych eval, to officially court-martial her, or both.
All because she was smart enough to know that this ludicrous idea of peace would never work. She snorted in amusement, remembering Bridger's attempt to plead with her about innocent people and second chances. He was as deluded as the UEO was. She had unfortunately failed in her attempt to prove it to him, but he would learn the hard way eventually.
The soft trill from the sensor panel disrupted her train of thought. It showed two other ships coming up alongside and behind her on an obvious intercept course. No, three. A third one appeared on the sensors a moment later, this one in a move clearly meant to box her in. She swore under her breath for allowing herself to become distracted. From what her limited sensors could pick up, they definitely were not UEO vessels. However, that left a lot of other possibilities; none of them good. The communications panel lit up a moment later, indicating they were attempting contact. She thought about ignoring it, then shrugged and flipped the switch to open the link. Oh, what the hell...let's hear them bark.
"Unidentified vessel, you are in our territory. You are to leave at once." The voice over the comm system was male and sounded young, but authoritative, its owner obviously used to having his demands heeded.
Marilyn snorted under her breath as she double-checked the sensor readings. While she was outnumbered three to one and they had weapons, their ships weren't any bigger than her own. "You're lying. I know for a fact that this is UEO territory," she said haughtily. "Which means only they have authority in this area." She sat back, folding her arms over her chest and allowing herself a moment of satisfaction. Did they really think she was stupid enough to fall for their sorry attempt at intimidation?
A snicker echoed back in response. "We don't bow to the UEO." There was a long minute's pause, as if giving her time to consider her options. "And since none of their ships are anywhere within range, none of them will come to your rescue if you don't heed our warning."
"Actually they would, because I am a UEO captain." She smirked to herself at how easily the lie came to her. Not that any UEO vessel within range would come to her aid except to arrest her; but these base criminals wouldn't know any better.
Besides, it had almost been true. At least until Livingston Trench. It really was a pity she hadn't been able to destroy seaQuest and eliminate not only Bridger, but Ford as well. Her once-revered mentor, a man she'd admired above nearly all others. And the arrogant bastard who had screwed her out of her career and her pride. What a bonus it would have been to drown the both of them with one well-aimed shot.
Another minute passed before there was a low laugh from the pirate. "Is that so?"
A slight tremor of worry rose to the surface before she brutally silenced it. There was no way they could know who she was, even if Bridger had the authority to put out any sort of warrant on her. One hand automatically reached for the spot on the console where weapons control would be on any other ship and, upon remembering that she had none, muttered an oath under her breath. She froze momentarily, hoping they hadn't heard her voicing her frustration. Shaking off the annoying sensation of fear trying to get the upper hand, she narrowed her eyes at the main screen and the trio of enemy craft without. "By my authority, I order you to..."
"No UEO captain would be sailing alone on such an...inadequate craft, and without escort." The smug interruption both angered and unnerved her; her heart began to pound suddenly at the realization that she wouldn't be able to push her way out of this as easily as she'd originally assumed. "But please, humor me. I'd like to see if they actually come running."
"Do you really think you can intimidate me?!" she said icily. Mounting terror warred with fury and she ignored her shaking hands, clenching one into a fist. "I've faced multiple warships ten times your size and defeated them! And I sure as hell don't need to call for help from the UEO...I can take you down myself!"
"Then by all means, Captain, take your best shot." The taunt was accompanied by a hearty laugh. "Of course, that might be a little difficult when you have no weapons..."
The bastard's laughter almost covered the alert that warned of the incoming torpedo and the first shot grazed the cruiser's belly. Marilyn swore mentally, keying in a quick course adjustment. Without weapons of her own, the only hope she had was the use of evasive maneuvers. By turning hard to port, she managed to evade the second torpedo. But the third shot they fired hit the starboard engine and the impact nearly threw her out of the chair. She gripped the console with one hand, using it to pull herself back upright while trying desperately to key in commands with the other. Every hit was detrimental to her little craft. Cursing aloud, she changed her tactic, keying open the communication system and entering a familiar code. She prayed the connection would stay active long enough to transmit.
"Len, I don't have much time. I'm being attacked by pirates. Lost the D-4 thanks to Le Chein's incompetents. So in the end, that damn Bridger got the upper hand." Another blow shook the cruiser and set off alarms that she slapped into silence. She didn't need them to tell her that the cruiser was now completely dead in the water. "Thought I was going to make it, but now I'm getting shot at. They've already hit my engines and they're closing in on me. Never thought it would end like this. Sorry that I can't make it home, but I want you to know...you've always been the best part of my life." Tuning out the shrill warning klaxon of another incoming torpedo, Marilyn felt a strange and sudden calm settle over her. She closed her eyes, focusing on seeing Len in her mind's eye: her beautiful blue eyes, her smile, the sweetness of her laugh. "I love you..."
She didn't sense the final explosion or even the crushing pressure of the ocean wrapping around her; her thoughts had already taken her beyond awareness.
(*)
Manilow Crocker folded his arms, staring down at Charli Barrett with hard eyes. He had liked the girl when she'd first come onboard the boat; she had been respectful and well-mannered right off the bat, something not seen too often in today's young people. She had also meshed pretty well with the crew. It wasn't always easy for the civilian types to do so; yet, she had always being respectful of the command crew and adhering to the regs with relative ease. The fact that he could have misjudged her character so drastically annoyed him.
"So, you're sure the last time you talked to Doc Westphalen was the morning she went missing?"
"Yes, just like I told Chief Shan."
"And you went out to meet your cousin for lunch around 1330 hours. Where was it that you met her?"
Charli chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I honestly don't recall the name of the café. It's one that she has talked about all the time. Knows the owners, that sort of thing."
"Uh-huh. Now we know you said you didn't see the doc when you checked back in. Did you happen to see her out in the city?" When she shook her head, Crocker pressed, "You're sure about that?"
"Of course I'm sure." Crocker exchanged a glance with Shan at the clear defensiveness in her tone. "If I had, I would have introduced her to my cousin."
"Well, y'see, we have a bit of a problem here, Charli. 'Cause when you look at this, it tells us somethin' a bit different." Crocker nodded to Shan, who activated the vid link. They both observed as the blonde watched the security footage Agent Sovalik had sent over. She showed no recognition of the man who approached Kristin, but when she realized who entered the frame minutes after the pair disappeared, some of the color drained out of her face.
"I suggest you explain yourself, Miss Barrett," Shan interjected.
"I told you, I didn't see..."
"The time between Doctor Westphalen walking off camera and your appearance is less than five minutes," Shan interrupted. "Not only are you coming from the opposite direction, but given the layout of the area, it's highly unlikely you would not have at least spotted her in passing."
"I didn't see her," Charli repeated vehemently.
A tap on the hatch preceded Ensign Stayton's entrance. He cast a glance in Charli's direction before turning to Crocker. "Sir, may I speak to you for a moment?"
Crocker nodded and stepped outside the office, pulling the hatch closed behind him. "What'd you find, Stayton?"
"Balducci is still going through her communication logs. Lot of messages back and forth with her cousin Layla. Nothing seemingly out of the ordinary; they talk about current events, her project, mostly mundane topics. But I discovered this under her bunk."
Crocker had to tamp down his anger as Stayton handed him the very piece of evidence he had been expecting would be found. Forcing a quick smile, he gave the young man a pat on the arm and a word of praise before going back into the office. There, he found Charli having a staring contest with Shan, her arms crossed. He could see the trepidation she was trying to mask as she glanced over at him, then away just as quickly.
"Last time I'm gonna ask you, Charli. Did you see the doc or not while you were out in Anchorage?"
"No, I didn't."
"Then you might want to explain to me how Ensign Stayton found this in your quarters." Setting down the item Stayton had given him on the desk in front of her, Crocker watched her eyes widen in shock.
"I..."
"Does explain why the logs say that the doc checked back in right before you did. That line you gave Williams was sure a good attempt at a cover, though." Shaking his head in disgust, Crocker turned on the audio link on the desk. "Captain, could you come to the security office, please?"
"On my way."
Crocker permitted himself a moment's satisfaction at seeing her lose a little more color at the sound of the captain's voice, but didn't allow it to show on his face. Stepping back outside the security office with evidence in hand, he waited only a few minutes before he saw the captain headed down the corridor towards him.
"What did you find out, Chief?"
"Well, she's still stickin' to her story as expected, Cap. No surprise there. But Stayton did find this under her bunk." Crocker handed over the ID card, not surprised to see Nathan's eyes widen for a moment before they narrowed in anger. He waited patiently, giving Nathan the few minutes he needed to regain control of his emotions.
"I want to talk to her." The words were quiet but laced with ire.
"Oh, I figured you would." Crocker gestured ahead of him towards the hatch, following the captain as they both entered the office again. The girl had resumed her staring contest with Shan while he had been outside, but the instant she spotted Nathan, she blanched. Crocker closed the hatch and leaned against the wall next to it, casually folding his arms and settling in to watch the show.
"Well, Miss Barrett. I don't suppose you'd like to explain yourself?"
The security chief wasn't at all surprised when Charli refused to meet the captain's gaze. In fact, she looked everywhere but at him, shuffling her feet and looking like she wanted to disappear. Her arms were still crossed, but her fingertips worried at the end of her braid. The silent treatment did not go over well, as the captain continued to press her to talk.
"What could possibly have possessed you to assist in the kidnapping of a member of my crew? Did you think we wouldn't find out what you were up to?"
Crocker was also left wondering what the hell could have possessed this girl to be in league with the woman who'd kidnapped the doc. Shan had double checked with her school that morning; she was indeed a legitimate graduate student and her mentor had extended her thesis deadline by six months in order to accommodate her internship onboard seaQuest. She had graduated from Cal State Long Beach with her bachelor's in marine biology before starting her grad thesis. It seemed an awful lot of hard work to be throwing away.
"Keeping silent isn't going to help matters, Miss Barrett. In fact, it's only going to make things worse for you, because I would venture to guess that you are not privy to all the details of Len's intentions. But if you don't tell us what you do know, you'll be the one who ends up taking the fall. Is that what you want?"
The frustration that Nathan was trying to hold back was more than obvious to Crocker. He was doing his damndest to be patient with the girl, even though he probably wanted to shake the answers out of her. Given the circumstances, the security chief was a bit surprised that he was being this patient with her. He knew that his friend had an affection for Doc Westphalen--one that went beyond mere friendship. The way that Cap looked at the doc reminded Crocker of the way he used to look at Carol. And the feeling was very definitely mutual. Oh, they could both pretend all they wanted that they were just good friends, but, in reality, he wasn't fooled by the act they put on.
"I know for a fact that Doctor Westphalen has treated you well from the moment you came aboard this ship." The captain was attempting to tone his glower down to a stern stare. "I also know that she thinks highly of your dedication to your research. Why would you want to harm her when she has been nothing but kind to you?"
Crocker watched Charli's fidgeting increase. The disturbed expression that she was now trying to mask spoke volumes; Cap had obviously hit a nerve with this new line of reasoning. Now the question remained: would it be enough to guilt her into confessing what she knew?
The chirp of the audio link distracted all of them and made Charli flinch. Crocker reached for the link on the wall next to him. "Security."
"Captain, there's an incoming transmission marked for your eyes only."
Nathan tensed. "Source?"
"Unknown. Same masked source and refracted disbursement as before. It's got to be...her."
"Patch it through to the ward room, Mr. O'Neill. I'll be up there shortly."
"Aye, sir."
Nathan threw a final glare in Charli's direction. "Put her in the brig and contact the Anchorage office. Tell Agent Moonin we have a suspect for her."
"You got it, Cap." Crocker nodded in acknowledgement, not missing the set of his friend's shoulders as he exited. This was affecting him more than he let on, that was for sure. Shan already had the girl on her feet and cuffed, so Crocker turned to open the hatch and lead the way for the walk up to the brig.
(*)
The vid screen was blinking with the incoming call logo when Nathan stepped into the ward room. Latching the door behind him, he eyed the screen for a long minute, almost reluctant to have to deal with Len again; though at least he now had one point in his favor: uncovering Charli as the mole she'd obviously planted onboard. His determination renewed, he keyed on the vid link.
Expecting to be facing Len, the first glimpse of Kristin on the screen gave him momentary pause. Despite the dim lighting, he studied her face, relieved to see that there were no visible signs of injury to her except the fading bruise on her cheek. A man stood next to her with a hard grip on one arm, but his back was mostly to the camera; all that could be discerned was his dark hair. Len stood in front of Kristin and the two were obviously talking, but there was no audio. The relief vanished in an instant when Len grabbed Kristin by the jaw, turning her head to the side.
"...but...no accounting for taste." The sound of Len's voice suddenly came through the connection, fading in and out as if the audio was malfunctioning.
"Excuse me?"
"...not in the mood for games...two of you may think...affair is a secret, but...obvious..." There was a snapping sound through the link and a moment of silence before Len's voice returned, this time much clearer. "...at least be honest and admit it."
Despite not being able to hear all that had been said, Nathan's eyes narrowed at the screen. Two-thirds of the seaQuest's crew had gone ashore in Anchorage; it stood to reason that it was more than mere coincidence that Kristin was the one who had been abducted. He had suspected from the moment he'd laid eyes on Len that her actions were aimed at him personally, and this confirmed it. The question that still remained was why.
"One of the reporters who attended the UEO summit was quite generous with the information they provided." The casual words, coming from the direction of a younger man whose features were largely hidden by the background shadows he stood in, sent a chill down Nathan's back. He barely absorbed Len's remarks about Lucas and Shannon Noyce, his mind too busy racing with the implications. A reporter had sold Len information about him and Kristin? And he highly doubted that it ended there. First the Barrett girl and now this. How many people did Len have working for her? Just how far did her influence reach?
His mental turmoil almost made him miss Len's casual wave of the hand, but his attention riveted back to it when the man who had been holding onto Kristin's arm suddenly gave her a hard shove. The anger that flared up turned to horror when he suddenly spotted the dark hole in the floor behind her, and his hand clenched into a fist when she tumbled into the water, almost immediately sinking out of sight. She surfaced in moments, but the dark-haired man was waiting at the edge of the pit and every time she surfaced, he pushed her back down; at one point he even grabbed her by the hair, holding her under while she struggled. All the while, Len stood at the edge of the pit, watching it play out with a cold, satisfied smile.
It seemed an eternity to Nathan before Len instructed the man to stop. He and the younger man, who had been lurking in the shadows, hauled Kristin out of the water. She tried to stand, but her balance gave out almost immediately, and she sank to her knees, head bowed, shaking and breathing in ragged gasps. Heartache warred with rage at the sight; knowing that they still didn't know where Len was hiding and the knowledge that time was working against them only agitated him further. Just hold on, Kristin. I'll find you, get you out of there...
Len's laugh brought his attention back to the screen. "You look like the proverbial drowned rat." Her gaze suddenly turned upward to meet the camera; her mocking smile graduated to a gloating smirk. "What a pretty picture this will make for your darling Nathan."
The snickering of the two men barely registered through the fury that was starting to make him see red. He was not even aware of the recording's end, too concentrated on resisting the urge to put his fist through the screen.
"Bridge to the captain." O'Neill's voice broke through the haze of his roiling emotions.
"Yes?"
"Incoming transmission for you, sir."
He knew without asking who the transmission was from. She was no doubt calling to taunt him further. "Put it through to the ward room."
"Aye, sir." A moment later, the vid link lit up again. This time, Len was obviously back in the first room he had seen her in; he could tell because of the faint glow reflecting on her face. She nodded mockingly in greeting. Unable to find the words to express his anger, he settled for glowering in return.
After two minutes, Len finally broke the silent staredown. "Funny, I was expecting a little bit more of a reaction to my gift." She put on a thoughtful air. "Or is that the problem...I've left you speechless?"
"You dare to torture a member of my crew and call it..." He was cut off by a sudden burst of laughter.
"Oh, such a wonderful display of temper." Recovering from her amusement, Len leaned a little closer to the screen and smiled craftily. "It's just the two of us talking, so you can drop the pretense, Bridger. We both know you're in love with your precious Kristin. This isn't about a 'member of your crew'. This is personal."
"You're damn right it's personal!" Almost the instant the words were out of his mouth, Nathan realized his mistake at playing into her game. He was slightly surprised when the brunette nodded, though the mocking smile remained in place.
"Now, was that little bit of honesty so hard to admit? After all, I am fully willing to admit my own motives are personal."
"So it's about honesty, is it? Then perhaps you should enlighten me with a little of your own honesty." He folded his arms casually, trying to appear as if he'd calmed down and reminding himself that the longer the connection stayed active, the better the chance that O'Neill could trace the signal. "What's your reason for doing this?"
The smile changed to a hint of a smirk. "But that would be too easy. Besides, you're supposed to have the best and the brightest under your command. Like Lieutenant O'Neill. I have no doubt that he's trying to trace this transmission; he won't succeed, however."
"You demand honesty from me, but refuse to grant me the same courtesy. How is that fair, exactly?" Stating the obvious grated on his nerves. And the strange nagging feeling that he'd felt when he first laid eyes on her had resurfaced. He knew her from somewhere...but where? The glint of something metallic caught his eye, and his focus narrowed onto Len's hand as she tapped the item she held thoughtfully against her cheek. It was a metal hair clip, one he instantly recognized.
She shrugged casually and spun the clip through her fingers. "All's fair in love and revenge, as they say."
"Revenge?" he repeated. He knew she was playing him, distracting him with Kristin's stolen hair clip, and he urged himself to ignore her little game and keep her talking. "When I don't even know you?"
"Oh, but you do. Not personally," she added, anticipating his next question. "You may not have even heard my name mentioned. But you knew my...inspiration...very well."
Inspiration? What or who could possibly have inspired her to kidnap and torture an innocent woman? Shaking the idea away before his imagination could run away with it, he decided to change tactics. "You say you're after revenge; how about we make a deal? You've made it pretty obvious that I'm the one you want, so I propose that I trade places with Doctor Westphalen."
"As tempting as your offer is, I'm afraid I must refuse..."
"Name the time and place, and I will ensure that my crew does not interfere with the exchange."
Len smirked. "The problem with your plan is that neither your crew nor the UEO would permit you to take your lover's place. And while having custody of you would be satisfying, it simply wouldn't be fitting."
How can it not be fitting when I'm the one you want revenge on, damn it?! Nathan struggled to contain his growing frustration. He knew that she was right about the crew refusing to cooperate with any plan to trade himself for Kristin, not that he had expected Len to accept the offer in the first place. And she wasn't likely to walk into a trap, even with himself as bait. But there had to be some way to trip her up...
"As you once stole something precious from me, so I have done the same, Captain."
The sudden iciness in Len's voice brought his attention back to her in an instant. Her smug, superior air was gone, her pale eyes now glittering with malice.
"If your end goal is to punish me, then why not do so directly?" he demanded. Part of him wondered why he was even trying to reason with her, but worry for Kristin was overriding his common sense. "Why harm Doctor Westphalen when I am the guilty one? She's completely innocent in all of this..."
"You're delusional. No one is truly innocent. Everybody's guilty of something." With that retort, Len's image vanished, to be replaced with the transmission terminated screen.
Left with no other outlet for his renewed rage, Nathan slammed both fists down on the ward room table. He heard a faint snapping sound and sudden pain radiated through his left hand. Cursing under his breath, he gingerly felt along the affected area, wincing when he made contact with what he suspected was a fractured finger. Nice going, Nathan, he mentally chided himself. As if you don't have enough problems without breaking bones.
Huffing a sigh, he left the ward room, not looking forward to the lecture Doctor Levin would no doubt have in store for him. Len's words rang in his head in a repeating loop; reinforcing both the guilt that had been plaguing him for the past two days and the odd déjà vu he'd felt the moment he'd laid eyes on her.
"You knew my inspiration very well."
Since he knew he had never met her, that meant she had to be referring to someone he had known. Her attitude, her expressions-all of it so strangely familiar...
"As you once stole something precious from me, so I have done the same, Captain."
His title, spoken in that tone of derisive scorn. It was the first time Len had actually referred to him by rank, but he remembered all too well the last person who had addressed him in that exact same manner...
"Everybody's guilty of something."
And suddenly it all made sense.
Marilyn. Her attempt at taking seaQuest down over a year ago had failed. This time, she was striking out at him directly, probably assuming that he would be the one to fail this time. Even though she had yet to make herself visible, which surprised him a little, her accomplice would find out for herself that he wasn't the type to give up so easily.
(*)
Lucas scrubbed his hands against his eyes and glanced at the clock in the lower right corner of his computer monitor, realizing he'd been awake for going on thirty-six hours straight. The passage of time didn't surprise him; whenever he got involved in trying to crack codes, he usually forgot to sleep or eat. Normally it didn't bother him, but this time was far different and more serious: the Doc's life was at stake.
Oh, the other adults--including Captain Bridger--would have no doubt tried to reassure him that maybe the crazy woman who had taken her was only holding her for ransom and would let her go eventually, but Lucas knew better with his first look at the recorded footage. The coldness in her eyes, the hateful way she spoke of the captain; her intentions were crystal clear.
He had told the captain that he could handle it, even though the first recording he'd seen had disturbed him. He also knew that he wanted to help, even before he was asked. Doc Westphalen had been there for him more than his own mother ever had. Plus, his technical knowledge and hacking skills were the best on the ship and he'd helped the crew with similar situations in the past. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Not because he doubted his own skills. Far from it. It was the images that were now burned into his mind; Doc being thrown into the water, the bastard pushing her down every time she tried to come up for air, Len standing over her laughing after they dragged her out. At one point, he had even wondered if watching it over and over might have been easier to handle if the insane brunette's goons had simply beaten her up. Even when he ran subroutines that took apart the video at the source code level, the audio would still play; it meant he still had to hear Len's caustic voice, the splashing, Doc's gasping for breath. The sounds made his own chest tighten, overwhelmed him with a sickening sense of vertigo. He bent his head into his shaking hands, trying to shut it out; but like the video, he could still hear it even with his eyes closed and his hands over his ears...
A muffled voice that came from somewhere behind him finally got his attention and he jerked his head up to see Ben Krieg standing in the doorway, a small box under one arm. He realized that Ben must have been calling his name. Embarrassed at being caught cowering like a little kid, Lucas shook himself and turned to face Ben. "Did you need something?"
But Ben didn't seem to hear him, staring past him with an expression of shock. Lucas belatedly realized that he was looking at the monitor and quickly reached back to shut it off.
"Is that..."
"Yeah." Lucas was in no mood to discuss it with anyone, much less Ben. "Now did you need something? I'm kinda busy right now."
Ben indicated the box under his arm. Lucas stared at it in confusion for a long minute before he remembered the order he had placed two months ago for high-capacity memory chips and other spare parts for the vocoder handset. He waved a hand uncaringly in the general direction of his bunk. "Just...leave it over there."
The supply officer crossed the room and set the box down on the foot of the bunk, and then turned back to Lucas. "I also thought you might need someone to talk to."
"I don't have time to talk...and I don't want to, either," Lucas muttered. "Have to get this done anyway."
"Holding it all in isn't really going to help matters."
"Just go away."
"You need to talk to someone--"
"Haven't we had this discussion once before in the middle of a hurricane, Krieg? I'm not a kid," Lucas snapped. "You don't need to coddle me with your morale officer act."
Ben appeared unfazed by the vitriol being thrown at him. "Maybe not. But I'm not here as morale officer. I'm here as your friend, Lucas." He leaned casually against the wall next to the bunk, hands in his jumpsuit pockets. "And since my talents don't lie in computers or communications or planning rescues, I intend to do what I can do: which is to be there for my friends."
Who are you and what have you done with the real Ben Krieg? The sardonic thought flitted through Lucas' mind but he managed to keep himself from voicing it. He really didn't want to talk about it, and yet he wondered if it might help to actually do so.
"I feel like I'm not getting anywhere." The words came out before he could stop them and he half expected the response to be negative, or worse, patronizing. But Ben surprised him again.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because I've run that footage through my computer a hundred times using a dozen different programs and not one of them has found anything. It should have found something by now." Lucas threw up his hands in frustration.
"And are you running the same programs every time?"
"Well, yes and no. I've run each one multiple times and sometimes more than one. Like right now, I have two programs running on it. And without getting into complicated explanations, I can only say that I've tried every program that I have access to at least once...and nothing." Lucas sighed and shook his head. "Maybe she's right. Maybe her hacker is better than I am."
"I doubt that. And I'm not just saying that to make you feel better." Ben met the skeptical glance Lucas shot at him with an even look. "Sure, we know she's assuming that she has you beat, and her hacker probably does, too. But you know how to think outside the box, which is exactly why you're going to prove them wrong. And I'm also gonna tell you what I told O'Neill: let her think she's winning all she wants. That'll be the very thing that trips her up." Pushing himself away from the wall he'd been leaning on, Ben paused to give Lucas a quick squeeze on the shoulder before heading to the door. "Now I'd better let you get back to it. Just remember, my door's always open."
Lucas found himself lost in thought for several minutes after Ben had departed. Like most of the crew, he often found the supply officer to be overly annoying. Once in a while, he was fun to be around, and of course, his constant scheming and the usually disastrous results made for a good laugh. But it was times like this that made Lucas glad to have him around, even if he couldn't yet believe his encouraging talk that everything would work itself out.
An insistent trilling beep coming from behind him distracted him from his musings. It got louder as it continued. "All right, already," he grumbled, spinning back around to face his computer and switching the monitor back on. He clicked his cursor on the flashing alert lighting up the taskbar and frowned curiously at what he read. The video showed traces of a transmission disruption? How had he not noticed this before?
Another flashing icon on the upper left of the program's window caught his eye and he clicked on it. A new window popped up, displaying data that showed that each time he had run the source code subroutines, it showed the exact same disruptions at the exact same moments. Lucas read the data carefully twice; there was no deviation in the times the disruption was recorded each time the subroutine ran, not even by a tenth of a second.
That meant it was likely more than just a glitch. An idea was beginning to occur to him as he hit the print command and waited impatiently for the printer to produce the pages he needed. There was only one way to see if his theory was correct. O'Neill needed to see this data and then he would suggest checking all of the transmissions Len had sent them. If this same disruption appeared in the others, it could be backtracked through the network and, quite possibly, to the source computer as well. The printer beeped to indicate its job was through and Lucas grabbed the pages, barely remembering to switch the monitor back off before running out of his quarters towards the Mag-Lev.
(*)
Len's eyes blinked open, staring into the dimness at the metal ceiling above her head. For a long minute, she lay perfectly still, not recognizing her surroundings. Where was this barren metal room? More importantly, why was she alone?
Then she remembered. She sighed and closed her eyes again. It had been a dream. She had actually dreamed without having to force herself into a state of unconsciousness. And it had been so real; she could have sworn Mari had been beside her. They had been lying in the hammock under a nearly full moon, the night before she had left for Jamaica to meet Le Chein. They had barely spoken, simply holding one another and treasuring the last hours before they would have to be separated for several months. Only, it had turned out to be an eternal separation. For a long minute, she could still feel Mari's warmth and the softness of her skin, hear the rustle of the palms above and the nearby hushed roar of the ocean. Now, she was left with only the memories and the intent to even the score.
The faint trembling of the floor beneath her brought her back to the present. She opened her eyes again, and smirked suddenly. Bridger's reactions the day before had been priceless; his pleading to be allowed to trade places with his lover quite amusing. Only an idiot would have taken that offer, and she was no idiot. Aside from the fact that what she'd said to him was true: it would have been satisfying, but not as much as the current satisfaction she was gaining from seeing him react to what his precious Kristin was enduring.
But is it going to be worth it when you're done? Bridger will suffer for certain, just as he deserves, but it's not going to bring Mari home. And would she want you to go this far?
Len scowled at the sudden pricking of conscience. She knew the answer to that. Yes, she would. Because her beloved wife would have done the same if their positions had been reversed. And she deserved justice. No one else was going to get it for her; no one but the one person who had loved her.
Turning to the monitor built into the wall next to her cot, Len keyed it on. Hack had set up a feed for her from the camera installed in the iso chamber where they were keeping Westphalen. The doctor was curled in a ball on her cot, sound asleep, her sweater draped over her torso in place of a blanket. The sight of her sleeping so peacefully fueled Len's ire. No doubt she was dreaming of Bridger and how he would soon come running to her rescue. Well, she was in for a rude awakening if she thought that she would have that luxury.
Switching off the monitor, Len sat up and pushed herself to her feet. Running her fingers through her hair, she quickly pulled it back and then tapped the audio link next to the monitor. "Walt."
"Yeah, boss?"
"You and Kamik get her and meet me below."
"Got it."
enjoy!
index post
A/N: Extra credit goes to my beta goddesses Cam and Darkin: Cam for the beginning of this chapter's first scene (we were discussing this chapter and her muse got going. Gotta love when things like that can happen between two writers!) And Darkin for helping me get around writers' block at a pivotal point. Thanks bunches, girls :) :)
Also, kudos to Aiko and Neo from the RLT as well as April and Ricky from my local NaNo group for your input at certain places. You guys were awesomely helpful. Thanks lots :)
Songs used for inspiration: "The Infinite Tear" by The Cruxshadows and "Love and War" by Drowning Pool.
Chapter 7 ~ Through a Veil of Madness
2018
somewhere in the Pacific
Cowards, she seethed. All of them!
She could salvage this mission. She could still win. The ship was sinking, but she could still-
No. Live.
The voice, so faint she almost missed it, came to Marilyn Stark unbidden. At first she thought one of the crew had dug deep and found the testicular fortitude to remain with their captain, but there was no one about.
Live.
Suddenly she knew who it was. Len's voice, always such a calm on her soul. The love of her life could be nothing else and, for the briefest of moments, she smiled.
Live, Mari. Come home to me.
Maybe she was imagining the voice. Maybe she wasn't. Whatever the case, it got her feet moving. Marilyn made her way off the bridge in the direction of the mini-sub, following behind crewmembers still stumbling toward it themselves. Then suddenly she paused, an epiphany occurring to her. The captain's cruiser!
Turning sharply, she headed in the opposite direction. Built to hold only one, the 15-foot craft was less a boat than it was a submersible cockpit with minimal shields and enough power to supply the miniscule engine and life support system for five days. But it would be enough to get her back to Hawaii if she pushed it. Marilyn was suddenly glad that Le Chein had included it in his illegally obtained D-4, and that his cowardly son appeared to have conveniently forgotten about it in his determination to reach the mini-sub.
"Idiot," she smirked. But Maxwell's loss was her gain. Reaching the hatch, she spun the wheel to the left and flung the door open, not bothering to shut it behind her as she keyed open the cruiser's cockpit. Let the water flood whatever was left after she launched. At least she could potentially deny Bridger that piece of evidence.
Strapping herself in, Marilyn slammed the cockpit shut above her and powered up the cruiser. She felt the D-4 shudder around her, stronger this time, and knew it was beginning to break up. The second the launch sequence was fully initiated, she keyed in a new command and the bay doors unfolded before her. The sea poured in, embracing her little craft and flooding past her into its drowning parent as she shot out into open water. The sonar screen immediately lit up, alerting her to seaQuest's position, as well as the mini-sub slowly escaping in an easterly direction. She turned the cruiser northeast and plotted a course towards Kauai, keeping an eye on the sonar the whole time.
She didn't relax for nearly four hours, until she was certain seaQuest was out of range and apparently either had chosen not to track her or hadn't noticed her at all. Only then did she allow herself a sigh of relief. But relief soon faded into ire.
She couldn't believe it. Her plan was supposed to have been perfect! How could it have possibly fallen apart? Losing the D-4, now that she had almost expected. Maxwell Le Chein was his father's son and, while he cared for more than just wealth, he was still lacking in the intellect department. The "crew" Le Chein had supplied her with were a pathetic bunch, evidenced by their cowardice.
But the virus! That was supposed to have been the piece de resistance. Bridger's smug declaration about having found it still rankled. She still couldn't fathom how. Certainly not by Hitchcock. Yes, that insipid girl was a talented engineer, to give the devil her due. But there was still no way she would have been able to find it. As for Bridger, his background was largely based in the sciences, so it wasn't likely that he had been the one to discover it, either. She would likely never know for certain.
The next several hours passed uneventfully, but her senses remained on high alert. She kept an eagle eye on the sonar, both to keep track of any nearby ships and to have forewarning in case Bridger had caught wind of her trail and intended to come after her.
Marilyn's thoughts drifted back to Len. She had not heard from her wife in two weeks and hoped she was doing all right. After the fallout surrounding her forced resignation from NORPAC, it had been Len who had pointed out that the best thing to do was leave Annapolis, especially since they were attempting to force her into psychiatric evaluation. And there was no way she was ever going to talk to a shrink.
Thankfully, they did not have to scramble to choose another place to live. Len had a small house on Kauai, inherited from a grandparent who had died before she and Marilyn had met. Moving there had been easy; they had mutually decided to pack as little as possible and just start over. It was the staying on alert that kept Marilyn on edge. The military that had once been her life might have been absorbed into the UEO, but she wouldn't be surprised if they were looking for her, whether to force her into the demanded psych eval, to officially court-martial her, or both.
All because she was smart enough to know that this ludicrous idea of peace would never work. She snorted in amusement, remembering Bridger's attempt to plead with her about innocent people and second chances. He was as deluded as the UEO was. She had unfortunately failed in her attempt to prove it to him, but he would learn the hard way eventually.
The soft trill from the sensor panel disrupted her train of thought. It showed two other ships coming up alongside and behind her on an obvious intercept course. No, three. A third one appeared on the sensors a moment later, this one in a move clearly meant to box her in. She swore under her breath for allowing herself to become distracted. From what her limited sensors could pick up, they definitely were not UEO vessels. However, that left a lot of other possibilities; none of them good. The communications panel lit up a moment later, indicating they were attempting contact. She thought about ignoring it, then shrugged and flipped the switch to open the link. Oh, what the hell...let's hear them bark.
"Unidentified vessel, you are in our territory. You are to leave at once." The voice over the comm system was male and sounded young, but authoritative, its owner obviously used to having his demands heeded.
Marilyn snorted under her breath as she double-checked the sensor readings. While she was outnumbered three to one and they had weapons, their ships weren't any bigger than her own. "You're lying. I know for a fact that this is UEO territory," she said haughtily. "Which means only they have authority in this area." She sat back, folding her arms over her chest and allowing herself a moment of satisfaction. Did they really think she was stupid enough to fall for their sorry attempt at intimidation?
A snicker echoed back in response. "We don't bow to the UEO." There was a long minute's pause, as if giving her time to consider her options. "And since none of their ships are anywhere within range, none of them will come to your rescue if you don't heed our warning."
"Actually they would, because I am a UEO captain." She smirked to herself at how easily the lie came to her. Not that any UEO vessel within range would come to her aid except to arrest her; but these base criminals wouldn't know any better.
Besides, it had almost been true. At least until Livingston Trench. It really was a pity she hadn't been able to destroy seaQuest and eliminate not only Bridger, but Ford as well. Her once-revered mentor, a man she'd admired above nearly all others. And the arrogant bastard who had screwed her out of her career and her pride. What a bonus it would have been to drown the both of them with one well-aimed shot.
Another minute passed before there was a low laugh from the pirate. "Is that so?"
A slight tremor of worry rose to the surface before she brutally silenced it. There was no way they could know who she was, even if Bridger had the authority to put out any sort of warrant on her. One hand automatically reached for the spot on the console where weapons control would be on any other ship and, upon remembering that she had none, muttered an oath under her breath. She froze momentarily, hoping they hadn't heard her voicing her frustration. Shaking off the annoying sensation of fear trying to get the upper hand, she narrowed her eyes at the main screen and the trio of enemy craft without. "By my authority, I order you to..."
"No UEO captain would be sailing alone on such an...inadequate craft, and without escort." The smug interruption both angered and unnerved her; her heart began to pound suddenly at the realization that she wouldn't be able to push her way out of this as easily as she'd originally assumed. "But please, humor me. I'd like to see if they actually come running."
"Do you really think you can intimidate me?!" she said icily. Mounting terror warred with fury and she ignored her shaking hands, clenching one into a fist. "I've faced multiple warships ten times your size and defeated them! And I sure as hell don't need to call for help from the UEO...I can take you down myself!"
"Then by all means, Captain, take your best shot." The taunt was accompanied by a hearty laugh. "Of course, that might be a little difficult when you have no weapons..."
The bastard's laughter almost covered the alert that warned of the incoming torpedo and the first shot grazed the cruiser's belly. Marilyn swore mentally, keying in a quick course adjustment. Without weapons of her own, the only hope she had was the use of evasive maneuvers. By turning hard to port, she managed to evade the second torpedo. But the third shot they fired hit the starboard engine and the impact nearly threw her out of the chair. She gripped the console with one hand, using it to pull herself back upright while trying desperately to key in commands with the other. Every hit was detrimental to her little craft. Cursing aloud, she changed her tactic, keying open the communication system and entering a familiar code. She prayed the connection would stay active long enough to transmit.
"Len, I don't have much time. I'm being attacked by pirates. Lost the D-4 thanks to Le Chein's incompetents. So in the end, that damn Bridger got the upper hand." Another blow shook the cruiser and set off alarms that she slapped into silence. She didn't need them to tell her that the cruiser was now completely dead in the water. "Thought I was going to make it, but now I'm getting shot at. They've already hit my engines and they're closing in on me. Never thought it would end like this. Sorry that I can't make it home, but I want you to know...you've always been the best part of my life." Tuning out the shrill warning klaxon of another incoming torpedo, Marilyn felt a strange and sudden calm settle over her. She closed her eyes, focusing on seeing Len in her mind's eye: her beautiful blue eyes, her smile, the sweetness of her laugh. "I love you..."
She didn't sense the final explosion or even the crushing pressure of the ocean wrapping around her; her thoughts had already taken her beyond awareness.
(*)
Manilow Crocker folded his arms, staring down at Charli Barrett with hard eyes. He had liked the girl when she'd first come onboard the boat; she had been respectful and well-mannered right off the bat, something not seen too often in today's young people. She had also meshed pretty well with the crew. It wasn't always easy for the civilian types to do so; yet, she had always being respectful of the command crew and adhering to the regs with relative ease. The fact that he could have misjudged her character so drastically annoyed him.
"So, you're sure the last time you talked to Doc Westphalen was the morning she went missing?"
"Yes, just like I told Chief Shan."
"And you went out to meet your cousin for lunch around 1330 hours. Where was it that you met her?"
Charli chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I honestly don't recall the name of the café. It's one that she has talked about all the time. Knows the owners, that sort of thing."
"Uh-huh. Now we know you said you didn't see the doc when you checked back in. Did you happen to see her out in the city?" When she shook her head, Crocker pressed, "You're sure about that?"
"Of course I'm sure." Crocker exchanged a glance with Shan at the clear defensiveness in her tone. "If I had, I would have introduced her to my cousin."
"Well, y'see, we have a bit of a problem here, Charli. 'Cause when you look at this, it tells us somethin' a bit different." Crocker nodded to Shan, who activated the vid link. They both observed as the blonde watched the security footage Agent Sovalik had sent over. She showed no recognition of the man who approached Kristin, but when she realized who entered the frame minutes after the pair disappeared, some of the color drained out of her face.
"I suggest you explain yourself, Miss Barrett," Shan interjected.
"I told you, I didn't see..."
"The time between Doctor Westphalen walking off camera and your appearance is less than five minutes," Shan interrupted. "Not only are you coming from the opposite direction, but given the layout of the area, it's highly unlikely you would not have at least spotted her in passing."
"I didn't see her," Charli repeated vehemently.
A tap on the hatch preceded Ensign Stayton's entrance. He cast a glance in Charli's direction before turning to Crocker. "Sir, may I speak to you for a moment?"
Crocker nodded and stepped outside the office, pulling the hatch closed behind him. "What'd you find, Stayton?"
"Balducci is still going through her communication logs. Lot of messages back and forth with her cousin Layla. Nothing seemingly out of the ordinary; they talk about current events, her project, mostly mundane topics. But I discovered this under her bunk."
Crocker had to tamp down his anger as Stayton handed him the very piece of evidence he had been expecting would be found. Forcing a quick smile, he gave the young man a pat on the arm and a word of praise before going back into the office. There, he found Charli having a staring contest with Shan, her arms crossed. He could see the trepidation she was trying to mask as she glanced over at him, then away just as quickly.
"Last time I'm gonna ask you, Charli. Did you see the doc or not while you were out in Anchorage?"
"No, I didn't."
"Then you might want to explain to me how Ensign Stayton found this in your quarters." Setting down the item Stayton had given him on the desk in front of her, Crocker watched her eyes widen in shock.
"I..."
"Does explain why the logs say that the doc checked back in right before you did. That line you gave Williams was sure a good attempt at a cover, though." Shaking his head in disgust, Crocker turned on the audio link on the desk. "Captain, could you come to the security office, please?"
"On my way."
Crocker permitted himself a moment's satisfaction at seeing her lose a little more color at the sound of the captain's voice, but didn't allow it to show on his face. Stepping back outside the security office with evidence in hand, he waited only a few minutes before he saw the captain headed down the corridor towards him.
"What did you find out, Chief?"
"Well, she's still stickin' to her story as expected, Cap. No surprise there. But Stayton did find this under her bunk." Crocker handed over the ID card, not surprised to see Nathan's eyes widen for a moment before they narrowed in anger. He waited patiently, giving Nathan the few minutes he needed to regain control of his emotions.
"I want to talk to her." The words were quiet but laced with ire.
"Oh, I figured you would." Crocker gestured ahead of him towards the hatch, following the captain as they both entered the office again. The girl had resumed her staring contest with Shan while he had been outside, but the instant she spotted Nathan, she blanched. Crocker closed the hatch and leaned against the wall next to it, casually folding his arms and settling in to watch the show.
"Well, Miss Barrett. I don't suppose you'd like to explain yourself?"
The security chief wasn't at all surprised when Charli refused to meet the captain's gaze. In fact, she looked everywhere but at him, shuffling her feet and looking like she wanted to disappear. Her arms were still crossed, but her fingertips worried at the end of her braid. The silent treatment did not go over well, as the captain continued to press her to talk.
"What could possibly have possessed you to assist in the kidnapping of a member of my crew? Did you think we wouldn't find out what you were up to?"
Crocker was also left wondering what the hell could have possessed this girl to be in league with the woman who'd kidnapped the doc. Shan had double checked with her school that morning; she was indeed a legitimate graduate student and her mentor had extended her thesis deadline by six months in order to accommodate her internship onboard seaQuest. She had graduated from Cal State Long Beach with her bachelor's in marine biology before starting her grad thesis. It seemed an awful lot of hard work to be throwing away.
"Keeping silent isn't going to help matters, Miss Barrett. In fact, it's only going to make things worse for you, because I would venture to guess that you are not privy to all the details of Len's intentions. But if you don't tell us what you do know, you'll be the one who ends up taking the fall. Is that what you want?"
The frustration that Nathan was trying to hold back was more than obvious to Crocker. He was doing his damndest to be patient with the girl, even though he probably wanted to shake the answers out of her. Given the circumstances, the security chief was a bit surprised that he was being this patient with her. He knew that his friend had an affection for Doc Westphalen--one that went beyond mere friendship. The way that Cap looked at the doc reminded Crocker of the way he used to look at Carol. And the feeling was very definitely mutual. Oh, they could both pretend all they wanted that they were just good friends, but, in reality, he wasn't fooled by the act they put on.
"I know for a fact that Doctor Westphalen has treated you well from the moment you came aboard this ship." The captain was attempting to tone his glower down to a stern stare. "I also know that she thinks highly of your dedication to your research. Why would you want to harm her when she has been nothing but kind to you?"
Crocker watched Charli's fidgeting increase. The disturbed expression that she was now trying to mask spoke volumes; Cap had obviously hit a nerve with this new line of reasoning. Now the question remained: would it be enough to guilt her into confessing what she knew?
The chirp of the audio link distracted all of them and made Charli flinch. Crocker reached for the link on the wall next to him. "Security."
"Captain, there's an incoming transmission marked for your eyes only."
Nathan tensed. "Source?"
"Unknown. Same masked source and refracted disbursement as before. It's got to be...her."
"Patch it through to the ward room, Mr. O'Neill. I'll be up there shortly."
"Aye, sir."
Nathan threw a final glare in Charli's direction. "Put her in the brig and contact the Anchorage office. Tell Agent Moonin we have a suspect for her."
"You got it, Cap." Crocker nodded in acknowledgement, not missing the set of his friend's shoulders as he exited. This was affecting him more than he let on, that was for sure. Shan already had the girl on her feet and cuffed, so Crocker turned to open the hatch and lead the way for the walk up to the brig.
(*)
The vid screen was blinking with the incoming call logo when Nathan stepped into the ward room. Latching the door behind him, he eyed the screen for a long minute, almost reluctant to have to deal with Len again; though at least he now had one point in his favor: uncovering Charli as the mole she'd obviously planted onboard. His determination renewed, he keyed on the vid link.
Expecting to be facing Len, the first glimpse of Kristin on the screen gave him momentary pause. Despite the dim lighting, he studied her face, relieved to see that there were no visible signs of injury to her except the fading bruise on her cheek. A man stood next to her with a hard grip on one arm, but his back was mostly to the camera; all that could be discerned was his dark hair. Len stood in front of Kristin and the two were obviously talking, but there was no audio. The relief vanished in an instant when Len grabbed Kristin by the jaw, turning her head to the side.
"...but...no accounting for taste." The sound of Len's voice suddenly came through the connection, fading in and out as if the audio was malfunctioning.
"Excuse me?"
"...not in the mood for games...two of you may think...affair is a secret, but...obvious..." There was a snapping sound through the link and a moment of silence before Len's voice returned, this time much clearer. "...at least be honest and admit it."
Despite not being able to hear all that had been said, Nathan's eyes narrowed at the screen. Two-thirds of the seaQuest's crew had gone ashore in Anchorage; it stood to reason that it was more than mere coincidence that Kristin was the one who had been abducted. He had suspected from the moment he'd laid eyes on Len that her actions were aimed at him personally, and this confirmed it. The question that still remained was why.
"One of the reporters who attended the UEO summit was quite generous with the information they provided." The casual words, coming from the direction of a younger man whose features were largely hidden by the background shadows he stood in, sent a chill down Nathan's back. He barely absorbed Len's remarks about Lucas and Shannon Noyce, his mind too busy racing with the implications. A reporter had sold Len information about him and Kristin? And he highly doubted that it ended there. First the Barrett girl and now this. How many people did Len have working for her? Just how far did her influence reach?
His mental turmoil almost made him miss Len's casual wave of the hand, but his attention riveted back to it when the man who had been holding onto Kristin's arm suddenly gave her a hard shove. The anger that flared up turned to horror when he suddenly spotted the dark hole in the floor behind her, and his hand clenched into a fist when she tumbled into the water, almost immediately sinking out of sight. She surfaced in moments, but the dark-haired man was waiting at the edge of the pit and every time she surfaced, he pushed her back down; at one point he even grabbed her by the hair, holding her under while she struggled. All the while, Len stood at the edge of the pit, watching it play out with a cold, satisfied smile.
It seemed an eternity to Nathan before Len instructed the man to stop. He and the younger man, who had been lurking in the shadows, hauled Kristin out of the water. She tried to stand, but her balance gave out almost immediately, and she sank to her knees, head bowed, shaking and breathing in ragged gasps. Heartache warred with rage at the sight; knowing that they still didn't know where Len was hiding and the knowledge that time was working against them only agitated him further. Just hold on, Kristin. I'll find you, get you out of there...
Len's laugh brought his attention back to the screen. "You look like the proverbial drowned rat." Her gaze suddenly turned upward to meet the camera; her mocking smile graduated to a gloating smirk. "What a pretty picture this will make for your darling Nathan."
The snickering of the two men barely registered through the fury that was starting to make him see red. He was not even aware of the recording's end, too concentrated on resisting the urge to put his fist through the screen.
"Bridge to the captain." O'Neill's voice broke through the haze of his roiling emotions.
"Yes?"
"Incoming transmission for you, sir."
He knew without asking who the transmission was from. She was no doubt calling to taunt him further. "Put it through to the ward room."
"Aye, sir." A moment later, the vid link lit up again. This time, Len was obviously back in the first room he had seen her in; he could tell because of the faint glow reflecting on her face. She nodded mockingly in greeting. Unable to find the words to express his anger, he settled for glowering in return.
After two minutes, Len finally broke the silent staredown. "Funny, I was expecting a little bit more of a reaction to my gift." She put on a thoughtful air. "Or is that the problem...I've left you speechless?"
"You dare to torture a member of my crew and call it..." He was cut off by a sudden burst of laughter.
"Oh, such a wonderful display of temper." Recovering from her amusement, Len leaned a little closer to the screen and smiled craftily. "It's just the two of us talking, so you can drop the pretense, Bridger. We both know you're in love with your precious Kristin. This isn't about a 'member of your crew'. This is personal."
"You're damn right it's personal!" Almost the instant the words were out of his mouth, Nathan realized his mistake at playing into her game. He was slightly surprised when the brunette nodded, though the mocking smile remained in place.
"Now, was that little bit of honesty so hard to admit? After all, I am fully willing to admit my own motives are personal."
"So it's about honesty, is it? Then perhaps you should enlighten me with a little of your own honesty." He folded his arms casually, trying to appear as if he'd calmed down and reminding himself that the longer the connection stayed active, the better the chance that O'Neill could trace the signal. "What's your reason for doing this?"
The smile changed to a hint of a smirk. "But that would be too easy. Besides, you're supposed to have the best and the brightest under your command. Like Lieutenant O'Neill. I have no doubt that he's trying to trace this transmission; he won't succeed, however."
"You demand honesty from me, but refuse to grant me the same courtesy. How is that fair, exactly?" Stating the obvious grated on his nerves. And the strange nagging feeling that he'd felt when he first laid eyes on her had resurfaced. He knew her from somewhere...but where? The glint of something metallic caught his eye, and his focus narrowed onto Len's hand as she tapped the item she held thoughtfully against her cheek. It was a metal hair clip, one he instantly recognized.
She shrugged casually and spun the clip through her fingers. "All's fair in love and revenge, as they say."
"Revenge?" he repeated. He knew she was playing him, distracting him with Kristin's stolen hair clip, and he urged himself to ignore her little game and keep her talking. "When I don't even know you?"
"Oh, but you do. Not personally," she added, anticipating his next question. "You may not have even heard my name mentioned. But you knew my...inspiration...very well."
Inspiration? What or who could possibly have inspired her to kidnap and torture an innocent woman? Shaking the idea away before his imagination could run away with it, he decided to change tactics. "You say you're after revenge; how about we make a deal? You've made it pretty obvious that I'm the one you want, so I propose that I trade places with Doctor Westphalen."
"As tempting as your offer is, I'm afraid I must refuse..."
"Name the time and place, and I will ensure that my crew does not interfere with the exchange."
Len smirked. "The problem with your plan is that neither your crew nor the UEO would permit you to take your lover's place. And while having custody of you would be satisfying, it simply wouldn't be fitting."
How can it not be fitting when I'm the one you want revenge on, damn it?! Nathan struggled to contain his growing frustration. He knew that she was right about the crew refusing to cooperate with any plan to trade himself for Kristin, not that he had expected Len to accept the offer in the first place. And she wasn't likely to walk into a trap, even with himself as bait. But there had to be some way to trip her up...
"As you once stole something precious from me, so I have done the same, Captain."
The sudden iciness in Len's voice brought his attention back to her in an instant. Her smug, superior air was gone, her pale eyes now glittering with malice.
"If your end goal is to punish me, then why not do so directly?" he demanded. Part of him wondered why he was even trying to reason with her, but worry for Kristin was overriding his common sense. "Why harm Doctor Westphalen when I am the guilty one? She's completely innocent in all of this..."
"You're delusional. No one is truly innocent. Everybody's guilty of something." With that retort, Len's image vanished, to be replaced with the transmission terminated screen.
Left with no other outlet for his renewed rage, Nathan slammed both fists down on the ward room table. He heard a faint snapping sound and sudden pain radiated through his left hand. Cursing under his breath, he gingerly felt along the affected area, wincing when he made contact with what he suspected was a fractured finger. Nice going, Nathan, he mentally chided himself. As if you don't have enough problems without breaking bones.
Huffing a sigh, he left the ward room, not looking forward to the lecture Doctor Levin would no doubt have in store for him. Len's words rang in his head in a repeating loop; reinforcing both the guilt that had been plaguing him for the past two days and the odd déjà vu he'd felt the moment he'd laid eyes on her.
"You knew my inspiration very well."
Since he knew he had never met her, that meant she had to be referring to someone he had known. Her attitude, her expressions-all of it so strangely familiar...
"As you once stole something precious from me, so I have done the same, Captain."
His title, spoken in that tone of derisive scorn. It was the first time Len had actually referred to him by rank, but he remembered all too well the last person who had addressed him in that exact same manner...
"Everybody's guilty of something."
And suddenly it all made sense.
Marilyn. Her attempt at taking seaQuest down over a year ago had failed. This time, she was striking out at him directly, probably assuming that he would be the one to fail this time. Even though she had yet to make herself visible, which surprised him a little, her accomplice would find out for herself that he wasn't the type to give up so easily.
(*)
Lucas scrubbed his hands against his eyes and glanced at the clock in the lower right corner of his computer monitor, realizing he'd been awake for going on thirty-six hours straight. The passage of time didn't surprise him; whenever he got involved in trying to crack codes, he usually forgot to sleep or eat. Normally it didn't bother him, but this time was far different and more serious: the Doc's life was at stake.
Oh, the other adults--including Captain Bridger--would have no doubt tried to reassure him that maybe the crazy woman who had taken her was only holding her for ransom and would let her go eventually, but Lucas knew better with his first look at the recorded footage. The coldness in her eyes, the hateful way she spoke of the captain; her intentions were crystal clear.
He had told the captain that he could handle it, even though the first recording he'd seen had disturbed him. He also knew that he wanted to help, even before he was asked. Doc Westphalen had been there for him more than his own mother ever had. Plus, his technical knowledge and hacking skills were the best on the ship and he'd helped the crew with similar situations in the past. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Not because he doubted his own skills. Far from it. It was the images that were now burned into his mind; Doc being thrown into the water, the bastard pushing her down every time she tried to come up for air, Len standing over her laughing after they dragged her out. At one point, he had even wondered if watching it over and over might have been easier to handle if the insane brunette's goons had simply beaten her up. Even when he ran subroutines that took apart the video at the source code level, the audio would still play; it meant he still had to hear Len's caustic voice, the splashing, Doc's gasping for breath. The sounds made his own chest tighten, overwhelmed him with a sickening sense of vertigo. He bent his head into his shaking hands, trying to shut it out; but like the video, he could still hear it even with his eyes closed and his hands over his ears...
A muffled voice that came from somewhere behind him finally got his attention and he jerked his head up to see Ben Krieg standing in the doorway, a small box under one arm. He realized that Ben must have been calling his name. Embarrassed at being caught cowering like a little kid, Lucas shook himself and turned to face Ben. "Did you need something?"
But Ben didn't seem to hear him, staring past him with an expression of shock. Lucas belatedly realized that he was looking at the monitor and quickly reached back to shut it off.
"Is that..."
"Yeah." Lucas was in no mood to discuss it with anyone, much less Ben. "Now did you need something? I'm kinda busy right now."
Ben indicated the box under his arm. Lucas stared at it in confusion for a long minute before he remembered the order he had placed two months ago for high-capacity memory chips and other spare parts for the vocoder handset. He waved a hand uncaringly in the general direction of his bunk. "Just...leave it over there."
The supply officer crossed the room and set the box down on the foot of the bunk, and then turned back to Lucas. "I also thought you might need someone to talk to."
"I don't have time to talk...and I don't want to, either," Lucas muttered. "Have to get this done anyway."
"Holding it all in isn't really going to help matters."
"Just go away."
"You need to talk to someone--"
"Haven't we had this discussion once before in the middle of a hurricane, Krieg? I'm not a kid," Lucas snapped. "You don't need to coddle me with your morale officer act."
Ben appeared unfazed by the vitriol being thrown at him. "Maybe not. But I'm not here as morale officer. I'm here as your friend, Lucas." He leaned casually against the wall next to the bunk, hands in his jumpsuit pockets. "And since my talents don't lie in computers or communications or planning rescues, I intend to do what I can do: which is to be there for my friends."
Who are you and what have you done with the real Ben Krieg? The sardonic thought flitted through Lucas' mind but he managed to keep himself from voicing it. He really didn't want to talk about it, and yet he wondered if it might help to actually do so.
"I feel like I'm not getting anywhere." The words came out before he could stop them and he half expected the response to be negative, or worse, patronizing. But Ben surprised him again.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because I've run that footage through my computer a hundred times using a dozen different programs and not one of them has found anything. It should have found something by now." Lucas threw up his hands in frustration.
"And are you running the same programs every time?"
"Well, yes and no. I've run each one multiple times and sometimes more than one. Like right now, I have two programs running on it. And without getting into complicated explanations, I can only say that I've tried every program that I have access to at least once...and nothing." Lucas sighed and shook his head. "Maybe she's right. Maybe her hacker is better than I am."
"I doubt that. And I'm not just saying that to make you feel better." Ben met the skeptical glance Lucas shot at him with an even look. "Sure, we know she's assuming that she has you beat, and her hacker probably does, too. But you know how to think outside the box, which is exactly why you're going to prove them wrong. And I'm also gonna tell you what I told O'Neill: let her think she's winning all she wants. That'll be the very thing that trips her up." Pushing himself away from the wall he'd been leaning on, Ben paused to give Lucas a quick squeeze on the shoulder before heading to the door. "Now I'd better let you get back to it. Just remember, my door's always open."
Lucas found himself lost in thought for several minutes after Ben had departed. Like most of the crew, he often found the supply officer to be overly annoying. Once in a while, he was fun to be around, and of course, his constant scheming and the usually disastrous results made for a good laugh. But it was times like this that made Lucas glad to have him around, even if he couldn't yet believe his encouraging talk that everything would work itself out.
An insistent trilling beep coming from behind him distracted him from his musings. It got louder as it continued. "All right, already," he grumbled, spinning back around to face his computer and switching the monitor back on. He clicked his cursor on the flashing alert lighting up the taskbar and frowned curiously at what he read. The video showed traces of a transmission disruption? How had he not noticed this before?
Another flashing icon on the upper left of the program's window caught his eye and he clicked on it. A new window popped up, displaying data that showed that each time he had run the source code subroutines, it showed the exact same disruptions at the exact same moments. Lucas read the data carefully twice; there was no deviation in the times the disruption was recorded each time the subroutine ran, not even by a tenth of a second.
That meant it was likely more than just a glitch. An idea was beginning to occur to him as he hit the print command and waited impatiently for the printer to produce the pages he needed. There was only one way to see if his theory was correct. O'Neill needed to see this data and then he would suggest checking all of the transmissions Len had sent them. If this same disruption appeared in the others, it could be backtracked through the network and, quite possibly, to the source computer as well. The printer beeped to indicate its job was through and Lucas grabbed the pages, barely remembering to switch the monitor back off before running out of his quarters towards the Mag-Lev.
(*)
Len's eyes blinked open, staring into the dimness at the metal ceiling above her head. For a long minute, she lay perfectly still, not recognizing her surroundings. Where was this barren metal room? More importantly, why was she alone?
Then she remembered. She sighed and closed her eyes again. It had been a dream. She had actually dreamed without having to force herself into a state of unconsciousness. And it had been so real; she could have sworn Mari had been beside her. They had been lying in the hammock under a nearly full moon, the night before she had left for Jamaica to meet Le Chein. They had barely spoken, simply holding one another and treasuring the last hours before they would have to be separated for several months. Only, it had turned out to be an eternal separation. For a long minute, she could still feel Mari's warmth and the softness of her skin, hear the rustle of the palms above and the nearby hushed roar of the ocean. Now, she was left with only the memories and the intent to even the score.
The faint trembling of the floor beneath her brought her back to the present. She opened her eyes again, and smirked suddenly. Bridger's reactions the day before had been priceless; his pleading to be allowed to trade places with his lover quite amusing. Only an idiot would have taken that offer, and she was no idiot. Aside from the fact that what she'd said to him was true: it would have been satisfying, but not as much as the current satisfaction she was gaining from seeing him react to what his precious Kristin was enduring.
But is it going to be worth it when you're done? Bridger will suffer for certain, just as he deserves, but it's not going to bring Mari home. And would she want you to go this far?
Len scowled at the sudden pricking of conscience. She knew the answer to that. Yes, she would. Because her beloved wife would have done the same if their positions had been reversed. And she deserved justice. No one else was going to get it for her; no one but the one person who had loved her.
Turning to the monitor built into the wall next to her cot, Len keyed it on. Hack had set up a feed for her from the camera installed in the iso chamber where they were keeping Westphalen. The doctor was curled in a ball on her cot, sound asleep, her sweater draped over her torso in place of a blanket. The sight of her sleeping so peacefully fueled Len's ire. No doubt she was dreaming of Bridger and how he would soon come running to her rescue. Well, she was in for a rude awakening if she thought that she would have that luxury.
Switching off the monitor, Len sat up and pushed herself to her feet. Running her fingers through her hair, she quickly pulled it back and then tapped the audio link next to the monitor. "Walt."
"Yeah, boss?"
"You and Kamik get her and meet me below."
"Got it."