The Hand of Wrath, chapter 8 [PG-13, seaQuest, Bridger/Westphalen, WIP]
oh look, it's another new chapter! i was extremely lucky to a) get this done in the timeframe i wanted and b) have an awesome beta goddess who is on the ball :blows kisses to Darkin:
enjoy!
index post
A/N - A thank you goes out to fellow RLT member Kazu for his helpful insight on the final scene. Also, this chapter contains a scene with bloody and potentially triggering content. Not graphic or gory, but may still be disturbing to some readers, so I post a warning just in case.
Chapter 8 ~ All My Sins Be Justified
Kristin barely heard the door slam, too absorbed in struggling to catch her breath. Each time she tried to steady her breathing, it degraded into yet another coughing fit and her chest ached from the exertion. On top of that, her whole body hurt from struggling against Walt's iron grip as he'd continually held her head under. This round had gone on longer than the first and she had nearly inhaled a lungful of seawater. Hypothermia was a major concern at this point and, if there was much more of this, the potential for pneumonia. After several more failed attempts, she was finally able to take in a few deep breaths. It helped to lessen the chest pain, but made the aching from the cold that much more prominent. Knowing she had to find some way to warm up, she slowly pushed herself to her knees and started to rise, only to lose her balance from yet another seismic tremor. Landing back on the floor was the last straw, and she suppressed the urge to scream, even as she pounded her fists against the floor out of sheer frustration; pain shot through her hands, putting a stop to the futile exercise almost immediately.
Without any other outlet to express the sense of defeat trying to overwhelm her, she buried her face in her hands. But the tears that escaped were short-lived, more of a release that brought back the veneer of strength she'd been holding up since the moment she'd realized how dangerous this situation was. Rubbing a hand over her eyes with a weary sigh, she forced herself to take another deep breath before pushing herself to her feet again. This time, she succeeded. Making a circle of the room increased the chill she was feeling, and she paused by the cot long enough to pull off her dripping shirt, flinging it aside and replacing it with her now-dry sweater. She also kicked off her shoes and peeled off her socks. There was no way to change the rest of her clothes, unfortunately, but it was better than nothing. She continued to pace as she wrung the water out of her hair, and tried to ignore the violent shivers wracking her from head to toe.
Don't think about being cold. But it was futile; the movement of the air around her kept reminding her just how cold she was. Shuddering, she embraced herself and paused, remembering that moving around was a bad idea. The ground shook beneath her feet again, and this time, the quaking seemed a bit stronger. As routine as the constant temblors were, it still left her concerned about the structural integrity of her confinement. She turned to face the back wall of the chamber, studying the ceiling and upper walls. No doubt whoever had constructed this place had taken that into account or it would have likely collapsed into the ocean years before, but it didn't make her feel any safer.
"You dare to torture a member of my crew and call it..." The sound of Nathan's voice behind her shocked her, and she spun around, only to see Len standing in the doorway. It took her a moment to realize the small, black box the younger woman had in her hand was some sort of recorder, as the only person with Len was Kamik. She barely noticed his presence, her attention riveted to Len and the audio emanating from the small speaker.
"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!"
Kristin wasn't surprised by the fury she could hear in Nathan's voice throughout the entire exchange, nor did it surprise her to hear him suggest to Len that he would be willing to trade places with her. The well-being of the crew had always been one of his highest priorities and she knew he would be willing to put himself in harm's way for anyone under his command.
Len clicked the recorder off. "You know, I'll give him credit where it's due. He was at least honest with me."
Rubbing at her arms to warm herself, Kristin met her stare without saying a word. There was no way in hell she was going to dignify the baiting with an answer.
"I am still puzzled by one thing, however. You're a smart, accomplished woman. Multiple degrees in various scientific fields, awarded for your recent breakthrough research in medicine. And yet you're willing to engage in a relationship with a murderer."
"Nathan is not a murderer--"
"As much as I hate to shatter your rosy illusion of the saintly Nathan Bridger, the simple fact is that what I say is true. I may not have been there when it happened, but I know what happened." Len's icy gaze pinned Kristin where she stood. "He shot down a defenseless woman in cold blood."
Kristin didn't know what was more ludicrous: Len's insistence that Nathan was a murderer or the laughable idea of Marilyn Stark being defenseless. "You weren't there, but I was. That-tyrant-and her band of pirates attacked numerous colonies of innocent civilians, and she tried to sink seaQuest in the process by planting that virus into the computer core. Perhaps you should explain to me how those are the actions of a 'defenseless woman'."
“I'm talking about after."
"After what??"
"After seaQuest destroyed the Delta-4. It could have ended there. But no. Your lover wasn't satisfied with that victory. He wanted blood.”
"That never--"
"Don’t bother denying it. He chose to order seaQuest to hunt her down and drown her. Now he will know what it’s like to lose someone precious to him." Len turned and headed for the door.
A new chill swept through Kristin. She knew in that moment that there was very little chance she would survive to escape this madwoman's clutches. Knowing her own death was imminent both frightened and infuriated her. "Do you even have any idea what sort of person Captain Stark really was?" she demanded to Len's back, her newfound anger making her ignore the inner voice telling her that speaking up was a very bad idea. "Not only was she willing to kill the entire crew of her former ship and those colonists, she very nearly plunged the world into war-and would have succeeded if Commander Ford hadn't stopped her. And for what purpose? To satisfy her own ego??"
Len spun back around. "I know exactly what kind of person my wife was," she hissed. "She fought long and hard to build her career, and that was after surviving growing up long enough to start that career. She also knew the way the world worked and wasn't afraid to face it-unlike her superiors. Yet when she stepped up and took the initiative, they called it treason. And that meant she was forced to take drastic measures to prove her point. But I wouldn't expect someone as arrogant as you to comprehend any of that, however."
"Better arrogant than a common criminal," Kristin retorted. Pain exploded across her face in the next instant and she stumbled back from the force of the slap. She lifted a hand to her stinging cheek as Len stormed from the cell. Kamik raised an eyebrow at her exit, shrugged and then followed her out.
Sighing, Kristin moved to sit on the cot, wincing as she felt along her cheek and jaw. When she was sure that all she would end up with was another bruise, she lay back, curling into a ball to conserve what warmth she could. Forcing herself not to think about how cold she was only made her inevitably fixate on the knowledge that Len intended to kill her over a lie, all because the younger woman believed that Nathan had murdered Stark.
Nathan... His image drifted to the front of her mind, and she sighed again. She would never get to apologize to him for their stupid argument after Darwin's injury. If only she had done so before she'd left the ship for her shore leave...but it was too late now for regrets. All she could hope for was that, if she didn't survive this, he could find it in his heart to forgive her.
(*)
Kamik had to catch the tunnel door on his way back into the main room before it struck him in the face. He closed it behind him and watched in amusement as both Walt and Hack stared at Len's moment of furious pacing.
"You should not let her get to you," he remarked after he was certain that some of her ire had faded. When she threw him a glare, he raised an eyebrow in return. "And you certainly made your point-and put her in her place-at the end."
A long moment of silence passed before Len finally spoke. "Yes. I suppose you're right, Kamik." He watched her visibly relax and breathed a silent sigh of relief.
A trilling beep from the computer banks caught their attention and Hack spun around, quickly typing in a set of commands. He eyed his center monitor closely for several minutes and then typed in another set. When the result was three beeps in quick succession, he relaxed. "Damn that kid."
"Hack, you had better make sure...."
"Chill, boss. I got a handle on it. Just gotta keep on top of things." Hack smirked and spun his chair back around to face the others. "Besides, he may be a genius, but I'm older and more experienced. He won't succeed. And should he come too close for comfort, I'm prepared." He tapped a box sitting next to the center monitor that contained a pair of chip drives. "Nice little set of viruses on these. Outdated tech, sure, but the benefit is using them leaves no trace on the system it's been connected to. All I'd have to do is attach the virus files to his attempt at breaking through, they'll be carried back along the connection between us and bam! It'll bring his entire system down to the point that he'll have to rebuild from scratch. Now, I'd rather not use it because, regardless of what they say, even the most sophisticated virus can leave traces of origin. However, it's there if needed." He leaned back, putting his feet up on a nearby crate. "So...you really gonna kill her?"
Len was staring out the window at the evening sky and its changing colors. "In the end, she will die, just as she deserves. You're not getting cold feet, are you?"
Hack snorted. "Hell no. You're certainly paying well enough. Just wondering how far I'll have to go into hiding when all's said and done, since we'll all be ending up on the UEO's most-wanted list."
"There are plenty of places to hide," Kamik pointed out. Len had moved away from the window, and he stepped toward it, glancing out at the reds and violets tinting the clouds that were slowly building on the horizon.
"We'll be wanted, sure, but they're not going to put us on the most-wanted list," Walt interjected. "She's just a civilian scientist. She's not military, which means they won't care for long."
"Military or not, she serves on the UEO's flagship. Do you really think Bridger and his crew won't raise enough hell to get a full investigation?"
"And like I said, she's not military."
"So?"
"For as smart as you are, Hack, sometimes you can be a real idiot." Walt's disparaging tone made Kamik sigh inwardly in exasperation. Would they never stop their ridiculous squabbling? "To the military, civilians are second-class citizens. Doesn't matter if they work in important positions, they're considered expendable in the end. So they can make all the noise they want, and the brass will likely placate them by opening an investigation; but, in the end, it'll go nowhere. They're not going to care for that long, even if she is Bridger's whore. They have bigger concerns."
Kamik wasn't surprised when Len barked at them both to shut up because they were giving her a headache. Hack turned back to face the computer monitors, effectively dismissing Walt. Walt glared at Hack's back before leaving the room, the door leading to the outside banging closed a few minutes later. Returning his attention to watching the clouds slowly moving towards the island, he didn't speak until he felt Len step up next to him.
"You do realize that even if Walt is correct, and the UEO does not investigate, Captain Bridger will."
Len smirked. "You're the last one I expected to express any doubts, Kamik."
Kamik shrugged casually. "I am merely sharing my observations with you. Bridger does not strike me as the sort of person who gives up easily. Whether or not Walt's assumption about his superiors is correct will be irrelevant in his eyes; the fact that Doctor Westphalen is personally important to him will be his reason for pursuing justice."
"Well, I wouldn't worry about Bridger. By the time I'm through with her and he sees the end result, it will bring him so low that he won't be able to pursue anything." Her smirk changing to a triumphant smile, Len turned away. "I'm going to bed. Hack, you know to wake me if necessary."
"Right, boss. Night."
The tap-tick-tap of Hack at work soon filled the room. Kamik tuned it out, studying the change of colors playing over the building clouds as they surrounded the distant rise of the volcano. A shuddering jolt under his feet distracted him, and he frowned. The tremors were strengthening. When he cast his gaze out the window again, he noticed what appeared to be a dark gray haze emanating from the peak before the clouds moved to envelop the mountain, and it disappeared.
(*)
Twenty-one steps.
That was the amount of room she had to move. Twenty-one steps to cross the length and another twenty-one to cross the width of the brig cell.
Charli knew she should sit, but she couldn't stay still, despite her fear-induced exhaustion. She paced with arms folded, clutching the end of her braid like a lifeline. She could feel Ensign Stayton's eyes watching her every step. Given how he'd been eyeing her the entire time, he was no doubt expecting her to try to escape. But she knew there was no way out. The moment Chief Crocker had shown her that she'd ended up on the shop security footage obtained from NCIS, she realized that she had been caught. And trying to explain her side of things would have only made it worse.
How could you be so stupid, Charli? You should have known Layla-no, her real name is apparently Len-was a liar, she chided herself. Why would the UEO refuse to investigate a murder committed by one of its own officers? And how could I think that a research grant was worth helping her kidnap someone, even if the story had been true at all?!
When she had first met Layla Rhinehart, the last thing she had expected to become involved in was criminal activity. The quiet, unassuming brunette worked as head assistant to the oceanography professor who had been Charli's mentor for her entire time at CSU Long Beach. She had not spoken to her for anything other than school-related business until her senior year and the countless hours spent in Professor Kindon's lecture hall and labs. Layla had actually accompanied the students on their research trip to the Russian glaciers and had seemed just as animated and interested in all the work to be done. But when Charli had run into her in the ship's dining hall late one night on the trip home, she had seen a whole different side of the other woman. She had been seething, furious.
Encouraging her to get it off her chest, Charli had learned that the cause was their brief rendezvous with a UEO ship when an engineering problem had cropped up. Layla, she learned, hated the UEO and, with a willing ear at her disposal, the whole story came out. Layla's best friend had been murdered by a UEO officer a year ago. Rather than investigate, the brass had claimed insufficient evidence and Layla's constant inquiries for a new investigation were subsequently ignored....
"And I'm the only one that cares, Charli?!" Layla sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Mara's own parents don't even care. They never cared about her in the first place."
"Been there, heard that," Charli replied without thinking. At Layla's questioning look, she blushed. "Sorry, that was rude of me. I can't compare what I get at home with what happened to your friend. At least I'm lucky enough to be alive."
"No, that's okay." Layla's pale blue eyes fixed on Charli and she found herself unable to look away. "You listened to me; I'm happy to do the same."
And without meaning to, Charli ended up telling Layla about the mother who claimed that a degree based in environmental sciences was useless, the father who told his daughter that she'd never amount to anything, and the graduate internship that Professor Kindon was helping her apply for that wouldn't even impress them should her thesis proposal be approved. Layla listened, nodded, and asked a question here and there. She seemed particularly interested in the internship possibility, finally admitting that she was 99% certain that Mara's murderer was a current member of the seaQuest's crew...
When they had returned to LA, Layla seemed to distance herself from the subject, and Charli thought no more of it. They became friends of a sort, often having lunch together or Layla assisting with Charli's study sessions before exams. But it was in February of her senior year, a week after Charli had learned that she had landed the internship on seaQuest, that Layla had approached her again with the subject of getting her friend's case reopened-and her plan to force UEO command to do so. The very idea of holding a member of the seaQuest crew for ransom had been shocking and not at all something she would have expected to come from someone like Layla Rhinehart. Her suggested target was even more shocking....
"You want to kidnap my future boss?!"
"Keep your voice down," Layla hissed in annoyance. "This is not a conversation we want Professor Kindon to overhear. And why not her? She's not military, so she'll be easier to take. Westphalen's their senior science officer; they'll have to accept my terms to get her back. And it's just a ransom request for information. She won't be harmed, just detained until they reopen Mara's case and actually do something about it."
"What if they won't cooperate?"
Layla smirked. "They will. Unless they'd like the media camped out on their front lawns. I know someone at one of the major networks who has a story prepared to go to broadcast if they don't. If there's one thing military brass hates, it's bad press." Her gaze cut to Charli. "They'll never know you were involved...and I would make it worth your while."
"I don't see how that's poss-"
"You're going to need research funds once your internship is over. I can get you started...."
The low murmur of voices distracted her from her frantic thoughts and she looked up to see that Balducci had entered the brig. He shot her a look of disdain before turning to Stayton.
"Chief sent me to let you know that the NCIS team is going to be here within the hour to take her into custody."
Stayton nodded. "Good to know. Thanks, Dom."
"Just watch out when they get here, though. Their team leader is majorly uptight." At Stayton's questioning look, Balducci went on. "She about bit Crocker's head off over the vid link about how he 'should have known from the start' that there had to be a person feeding the doc's kidnapper inside information. Of course, she was right, but she could have been more polite about it."
Stayton rolled his eyes. "Geez if she's that way with the chief...." He looked across the room and into the cell at Charli.
Balducci's gaze followed his and he shook his head. "It's not gonna be pretty for her."
Charli glared at both men for a moment before turning back to her pacing. She knew they were trying to upset and intimidate her-and it was working. Even without Balducci's claim about the team leader, the idea of being interrogated by NCIS was terrifying. And yet, at this point, did the opinion of a stranger even matter? It couldn't be any worse than what the crew now thought of her.
She shook her head, trying to shake away the images before they started, but it was futile. Every crewmember she'd passed in the corridor when they had escorted her to the brig had stopped and stared; most with shock or surprise, Lieutenant Krieg with open contempt, Alisha in sheer disbelief. Even Darwin, who had been swimming by in one of the corridor tubes, seemed to eye her with distaste for a brief moment. It had been humiliating and completely degrading; what was worse was she would have to endure it again when NCIS escorted her off the ship.
The hand holding her braid tightened its grip unconsciously. It was a gesture she rarely thought about, a nervous habit born out of being constantly yelled at by her father for one reason or another. A sharp jab distracted her and she winced, opening her hand. The bruise that suddenly began to form under her skin brought a fleeting thought to the forefront. Could she even consider it? If it didn't succeed, it would just make things worse. But, on the other hand, what would be worse in the end-the looming interrogation, the surrounding fallout, the scorn of her parents, the end of her future as she knew it? Or simply putting an end to all of it?
Even as each thought rose to the surface, she was slowly unclipping her braid. Her fingers worked at the hinge for several moments until she was able to snap the bottom half of the clip off. All her life, she had had to be extra careful not to injure herself; it was ironic that the knowledge she'd used to protect herself would now be used for the opposite purpose.
She slowly pressed the sharp end of the now exposed hinge hard into her palm, watching the blood bloom to the surface in an almost detached manner, as if observing someone else. The cell seemed to fade away around her; her only anchor to reality was the sting of drawing the sharp edge up her arm, of making sure that Stayton and Balducci didn't pay her any extra attention. She kept her arms folded over, letting her shirt absorb the blood so it wouldn't be easily noticeable. With every step, the hateful sound of her parents' voices listing her faults echoed in her head; the angry faces of the crew flashed in front of her eyes. The final image that rose up was Kristin's and she closed her eyes against the sudden flare of guilt. I'll never be able to tell her how sorry I am....
She could tell when the blood loss began to affect her. The lightheadedness and dizziness began to set in but she continued to pace as best she could. Every step was now an effort and she struggled against the vertigo creeping up on her. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, making it difficult to focus on moving. Against her will, the hairclip slipped from her grasp to land on the deck with a light pinging sound.
"What was-what the hell? Look at her, Keith. She's gone dead white."
"What's your problem, Barrett? You sick or something?"
Charli slowly turned to look at the two men outside her cell. She stared uncomprehendingly at them for a full minute before finding her voice. "What are you...looking at?" She didn't realize until she spoke that she could only utter the words in a shaky whisper. Her knees buckled in the next instant and she dimly heard one of them yell her name as she hit the floor.
"What the hell happened to her??" Balducci's voice seemed miles away even though she could dimly see him towering above her.
"How should I know??" Stayton's voice was even farther away and he was hovering directly overhead. "You've been here with me for the last fifteen, you saw for yourse--holy hell, Dom. She's bleeding. How in the-"
"She slashed her arm open somehow." A flash of pain shot up the arm in question when it was lifted up.
"....impossible. She had nothing on her....brought her in. ...checked her myself."
"Isn't....her hairclip?"
"She used that?!"
"Must have. See the blood here...hinge was?"
"This...Crocker."
"Chief, Stayton here. We've...situation...."
"This is Balducci...medical team...brig on the double...Barrett's bleeding out...."
"Triage...we get there."
"Trying...not stopping it...."
The rush of blood in her ears was getting louder and louder, drowning out Stayton and Balducci's voices, even as new ones joined them. But she couldn't understand any of them. They were all yelling at her and she wished they'd stop. The sudden glimpse of Kristin's face-how could she be here?-hovered in her line of sight. She seemed to be just out of reach. Uncaring of the impossibility, Charli fought to find her voice, to make herself be heard above all the noise. "I'm-sorry. Di...didn't know...she meant-to harm....you...." It was all she could say as the darkness encroached on what remained of her vision and her last vestige of strength finally gave out.
enjoy!
index post
A/N - A thank you goes out to fellow RLT member Kazu for his helpful insight on the final scene. Also, this chapter contains a scene with bloody and potentially triggering content. Not graphic or gory, but may still be disturbing to some readers, so I post a warning just in case.
Chapter 8 ~ All My Sins Be Justified
Kristin barely heard the door slam, too absorbed in struggling to catch her breath. Each time she tried to steady her breathing, it degraded into yet another coughing fit and her chest ached from the exertion. On top of that, her whole body hurt from struggling against Walt's iron grip as he'd continually held her head under. This round had gone on longer than the first and she had nearly inhaled a lungful of seawater. Hypothermia was a major concern at this point and, if there was much more of this, the potential for pneumonia. After several more failed attempts, she was finally able to take in a few deep breaths. It helped to lessen the chest pain, but made the aching from the cold that much more prominent. Knowing she had to find some way to warm up, she slowly pushed herself to her knees and started to rise, only to lose her balance from yet another seismic tremor. Landing back on the floor was the last straw, and she suppressed the urge to scream, even as she pounded her fists against the floor out of sheer frustration; pain shot through her hands, putting a stop to the futile exercise almost immediately.
Without any other outlet to express the sense of defeat trying to overwhelm her, she buried her face in her hands. But the tears that escaped were short-lived, more of a release that brought back the veneer of strength she'd been holding up since the moment she'd realized how dangerous this situation was. Rubbing a hand over her eyes with a weary sigh, she forced herself to take another deep breath before pushing herself to her feet again. This time, she succeeded. Making a circle of the room increased the chill she was feeling, and she paused by the cot long enough to pull off her dripping shirt, flinging it aside and replacing it with her now-dry sweater. She also kicked off her shoes and peeled off her socks. There was no way to change the rest of her clothes, unfortunately, but it was better than nothing. She continued to pace as she wrung the water out of her hair, and tried to ignore the violent shivers wracking her from head to toe.
Don't think about being cold. But it was futile; the movement of the air around her kept reminding her just how cold she was. Shuddering, she embraced herself and paused, remembering that moving around was a bad idea. The ground shook beneath her feet again, and this time, the quaking seemed a bit stronger. As routine as the constant temblors were, it still left her concerned about the structural integrity of her confinement. She turned to face the back wall of the chamber, studying the ceiling and upper walls. No doubt whoever had constructed this place had taken that into account or it would have likely collapsed into the ocean years before, but it didn't make her feel any safer.
"You dare to torture a member of my crew and call it..." The sound of Nathan's voice behind her shocked her, and she spun around, only to see Len standing in the doorway. It took her a moment to realize the small, black box the younger woman had in her hand was some sort of recorder, as the only person with Len was Kamik. She barely noticed his presence, her attention riveted to Len and the audio emanating from the small speaker.
"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!"
Kristin wasn't surprised by the fury she could hear in Nathan's voice throughout the entire exchange, nor did it surprise her to hear him suggest to Len that he would be willing to trade places with her. The well-being of the crew had always been one of his highest priorities and she knew he would be willing to put himself in harm's way for anyone under his command.
Len clicked the recorder off. "You know, I'll give him credit where it's due. He was at least honest with me."
Rubbing at her arms to warm herself, Kristin met her stare without saying a word. There was no way in hell she was going to dignify the baiting with an answer.
"I am still puzzled by one thing, however. You're a smart, accomplished woman. Multiple degrees in various scientific fields, awarded for your recent breakthrough research in medicine. And yet you're willing to engage in a relationship with a murderer."
"Nathan is not a murderer--"
"As much as I hate to shatter your rosy illusion of the saintly Nathan Bridger, the simple fact is that what I say is true. I may not have been there when it happened, but I know what happened." Len's icy gaze pinned Kristin where she stood. "He shot down a defenseless woman in cold blood."
Kristin didn't know what was more ludicrous: Len's insistence that Nathan was a murderer or the laughable idea of Marilyn Stark being defenseless. "You weren't there, but I was. That-tyrant-and her band of pirates attacked numerous colonies of innocent civilians, and she tried to sink seaQuest in the process by planting that virus into the computer core. Perhaps you should explain to me how those are the actions of a 'defenseless woman'."
“I'm talking about after."
"After what??"
"After seaQuest destroyed the Delta-4. It could have ended there. But no. Your lover wasn't satisfied with that victory. He wanted blood.”
"That never--"
"Don’t bother denying it. He chose to order seaQuest to hunt her down and drown her. Now he will know what it’s like to lose someone precious to him." Len turned and headed for the door.
A new chill swept through Kristin. She knew in that moment that there was very little chance she would survive to escape this madwoman's clutches. Knowing her own death was imminent both frightened and infuriated her. "Do you even have any idea what sort of person Captain Stark really was?" she demanded to Len's back, her newfound anger making her ignore the inner voice telling her that speaking up was a very bad idea. "Not only was she willing to kill the entire crew of her former ship and those colonists, she very nearly plunged the world into war-and would have succeeded if Commander Ford hadn't stopped her. And for what purpose? To satisfy her own ego??"
Len spun back around. "I know exactly what kind of person my wife was," she hissed. "She fought long and hard to build her career, and that was after surviving growing up long enough to start that career. She also knew the way the world worked and wasn't afraid to face it-unlike her superiors. Yet when she stepped up and took the initiative, they called it treason. And that meant she was forced to take drastic measures to prove her point. But I wouldn't expect someone as arrogant as you to comprehend any of that, however."
"Better arrogant than a common criminal," Kristin retorted. Pain exploded across her face in the next instant and she stumbled back from the force of the slap. She lifted a hand to her stinging cheek as Len stormed from the cell. Kamik raised an eyebrow at her exit, shrugged and then followed her out.
Sighing, Kristin moved to sit on the cot, wincing as she felt along her cheek and jaw. When she was sure that all she would end up with was another bruise, she lay back, curling into a ball to conserve what warmth she could. Forcing herself not to think about how cold she was only made her inevitably fixate on the knowledge that Len intended to kill her over a lie, all because the younger woman believed that Nathan had murdered Stark.
Nathan... His image drifted to the front of her mind, and she sighed again. She would never get to apologize to him for their stupid argument after Darwin's injury. If only she had done so before she'd left the ship for her shore leave...but it was too late now for regrets. All she could hope for was that, if she didn't survive this, he could find it in his heart to forgive her.
(*)
Kamik had to catch the tunnel door on his way back into the main room before it struck him in the face. He closed it behind him and watched in amusement as both Walt and Hack stared at Len's moment of furious pacing.
"You should not let her get to you," he remarked after he was certain that some of her ire had faded. When she threw him a glare, he raised an eyebrow in return. "And you certainly made your point-and put her in her place-at the end."
A long moment of silence passed before Len finally spoke. "Yes. I suppose you're right, Kamik." He watched her visibly relax and breathed a silent sigh of relief.
A trilling beep from the computer banks caught their attention and Hack spun around, quickly typing in a set of commands. He eyed his center monitor closely for several minutes and then typed in another set. When the result was three beeps in quick succession, he relaxed. "Damn that kid."
"Hack, you had better make sure...."
"Chill, boss. I got a handle on it. Just gotta keep on top of things." Hack smirked and spun his chair back around to face the others. "Besides, he may be a genius, but I'm older and more experienced. He won't succeed. And should he come too close for comfort, I'm prepared." He tapped a box sitting next to the center monitor that contained a pair of chip drives. "Nice little set of viruses on these. Outdated tech, sure, but the benefit is using them leaves no trace on the system it's been connected to. All I'd have to do is attach the virus files to his attempt at breaking through, they'll be carried back along the connection between us and bam! It'll bring his entire system down to the point that he'll have to rebuild from scratch. Now, I'd rather not use it because, regardless of what they say, even the most sophisticated virus can leave traces of origin. However, it's there if needed." He leaned back, putting his feet up on a nearby crate. "So...you really gonna kill her?"
Len was staring out the window at the evening sky and its changing colors. "In the end, she will die, just as she deserves. You're not getting cold feet, are you?"
Hack snorted. "Hell no. You're certainly paying well enough. Just wondering how far I'll have to go into hiding when all's said and done, since we'll all be ending up on the UEO's most-wanted list."
"There are plenty of places to hide," Kamik pointed out. Len had moved away from the window, and he stepped toward it, glancing out at the reds and violets tinting the clouds that were slowly building on the horizon.
"We'll be wanted, sure, but they're not going to put us on the most-wanted list," Walt interjected. "She's just a civilian scientist. She's not military, which means they won't care for long."
"Military or not, she serves on the UEO's flagship. Do you really think Bridger and his crew won't raise enough hell to get a full investigation?"
"And like I said, she's not military."
"So?"
"For as smart as you are, Hack, sometimes you can be a real idiot." Walt's disparaging tone made Kamik sigh inwardly in exasperation. Would they never stop their ridiculous squabbling? "To the military, civilians are second-class citizens. Doesn't matter if they work in important positions, they're considered expendable in the end. So they can make all the noise they want, and the brass will likely placate them by opening an investigation; but, in the end, it'll go nowhere. They're not going to care for that long, even if she is Bridger's whore. They have bigger concerns."
Kamik wasn't surprised when Len barked at them both to shut up because they were giving her a headache. Hack turned back to face the computer monitors, effectively dismissing Walt. Walt glared at Hack's back before leaving the room, the door leading to the outside banging closed a few minutes later. Returning his attention to watching the clouds slowly moving towards the island, he didn't speak until he felt Len step up next to him.
"You do realize that even if Walt is correct, and the UEO does not investigate, Captain Bridger will."
Len smirked. "You're the last one I expected to express any doubts, Kamik."
Kamik shrugged casually. "I am merely sharing my observations with you. Bridger does not strike me as the sort of person who gives up easily. Whether or not Walt's assumption about his superiors is correct will be irrelevant in his eyes; the fact that Doctor Westphalen is personally important to him will be his reason for pursuing justice."
"Well, I wouldn't worry about Bridger. By the time I'm through with her and he sees the end result, it will bring him so low that he won't be able to pursue anything." Her smirk changing to a triumphant smile, Len turned away. "I'm going to bed. Hack, you know to wake me if necessary."
"Right, boss. Night."
The tap-tick-tap of Hack at work soon filled the room. Kamik tuned it out, studying the change of colors playing over the building clouds as they surrounded the distant rise of the volcano. A shuddering jolt under his feet distracted him, and he frowned. The tremors were strengthening. When he cast his gaze out the window again, he noticed what appeared to be a dark gray haze emanating from the peak before the clouds moved to envelop the mountain, and it disappeared.
(*)
Twenty-one steps.
That was the amount of room she had to move. Twenty-one steps to cross the length and another twenty-one to cross the width of the brig cell.
Charli knew she should sit, but she couldn't stay still, despite her fear-induced exhaustion. She paced with arms folded, clutching the end of her braid like a lifeline. She could feel Ensign Stayton's eyes watching her every step. Given how he'd been eyeing her the entire time, he was no doubt expecting her to try to escape. But she knew there was no way out. The moment Chief Crocker had shown her that she'd ended up on the shop security footage obtained from NCIS, she realized that she had been caught. And trying to explain her side of things would have only made it worse.
How could you be so stupid, Charli? You should have known Layla-no, her real name is apparently Len-was a liar, she chided herself. Why would the UEO refuse to investigate a murder committed by one of its own officers? And how could I think that a research grant was worth helping her kidnap someone, even if the story had been true at all?!
When she had first met Layla Rhinehart, the last thing she had expected to become involved in was criminal activity. The quiet, unassuming brunette worked as head assistant to the oceanography professor who had been Charli's mentor for her entire time at CSU Long Beach. She had not spoken to her for anything other than school-related business until her senior year and the countless hours spent in Professor Kindon's lecture hall and labs. Layla had actually accompanied the students on their research trip to the Russian glaciers and had seemed just as animated and interested in all the work to be done. But when Charli had run into her in the ship's dining hall late one night on the trip home, she had seen a whole different side of the other woman. She had been seething, furious.
Encouraging her to get it off her chest, Charli had learned that the cause was their brief rendezvous with a UEO ship when an engineering problem had cropped up. Layla, she learned, hated the UEO and, with a willing ear at her disposal, the whole story came out. Layla's best friend had been murdered by a UEO officer a year ago. Rather than investigate, the brass had claimed insufficient evidence and Layla's constant inquiries for a new investigation were subsequently ignored....
"And I'm the only one that cares, Charli?!" Layla sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Mara's own parents don't even care. They never cared about her in the first place."
"Been there, heard that," Charli replied without thinking. At Layla's questioning look, she blushed. "Sorry, that was rude of me. I can't compare what I get at home with what happened to your friend. At least I'm lucky enough to be alive."
"No, that's okay." Layla's pale blue eyes fixed on Charli and she found herself unable to look away. "You listened to me; I'm happy to do the same."
And without meaning to, Charli ended up telling Layla about the mother who claimed that a degree based in environmental sciences was useless, the father who told his daughter that she'd never amount to anything, and the graduate internship that Professor Kindon was helping her apply for that wouldn't even impress them should her thesis proposal be approved. Layla listened, nodded, and asked a question here and there. She seemed particularly interested in the internship possibility, finally admitting that she was 99% certain that Mara's murderer was a current member of the seaQuest's crew...
When they had returned to LA, Layla seemed to distance herself from the subject, and Charli thought no more of it. They became friends of a sort, often having lunch together or Layla assisting with Charli's study sessions before exams. But it was in February of her senior year, a week after Charli had learned that she had landed the internship on seaQuest, that Layla had approached her again with the subject of getting her friend's case reopened-and her plan to force UEO command to do so. The very idea of holding a member of the seaQuest crew for ransom had been shocking and not at all something she would have expected to come from someone like Layla Rhinehart. Her suggested target was even more shocking....
"You want to kidnap my future boss?!"
"Keep your voice down," Layla hissed in annoyance. "This is not a conversation we want Professor Kindon to overhear. And why not her? She's not military, so she'll be easier to take. Westphalen's their senior science officer; they'll have to accept my terms to get her back. And it's just a ransom request for information. She won't be harmed, just detained until they reopen Mara's case and actually do something about it."
"What if they won't cooperate?"
Layla smirked. "They will. Unless they'd like the media camped out on their front lawns. I know someone at one of the major networks who has a story prepared to go to broadcast if they don't. If there's one thing military brass hates, it's bad press." Her gaze cut to Charli. "They'll never know you were involved...and I would make it worth your while."
"I don't see how that's poss-"
"You're going to need research funds once your internship is over. I can get you started...."
The low murmur of voices distracted her from her frantic thoughts and she looked up to see that Balducci had entered the brig. He shot her a look of disdain before turning to Stayton.
"Chief sent me to let you know that the NCIS team is going to be here within the hour to take her into custody."
Stayton nodded. "Good to know. Thanks, Dom."
"Just watch out when they get here, though. Their team leader is majorly uptight." At Stayton's questioning look, Balducci went on. "She about bit Crocker's head off over the vid link about how he 'should have known from the start' that there had to be a person feeding the doc's kidnapper inside information. Of course, she was right, but she could have been more polite about it."
Stayton rolled his eyes. "Geez if she's that way with the chief...." He looked across the room and into the cell at Charli.
Balducci's gaze followed his and he shook his head. "It's not gonna be pretty for her."
Charli glared at both men for a moment before turning back to her pacing. She knew they were trying to upset and intimidate her-and it was working. Even without Balducci's claim about the team leader, the idea of being interrogated by NCIS was terrifying. And yet, at this point, did the opinion of a stranger even matter? It couldn't be any worse than what the crew now thought of her.
She shook her head, trying to shake away the images before they started, but it was futile. Every crewmember she'd passed in the corridor when they had escorted her to the brig had stopped and stared; most with shock or surprise, Lieutenant Krieg with open contempt, Alisha in sheer disbelief. Even Darwin, who had been swimming by in one of the corridor tubes, seemed to eye her with distaste for a brief moment. It had been humiliating and completely degrading; what was worse was she would have to endure it again when NCIS escorted her off the ship.
The hand holding her braid tightened its grip unconsciously. It was a gesture she rarely thought about, a nervous habit born out of being constantly yelled at by her father for one reason or another. A sharp jab distracted her and she winced, opening her hand. The bruise that suddenly began to form under her skin brought a fleeting thought to the forefront. Could she even consider it? If it didn't succeed, it would just make things worse. But, on the other hand, what would be worse in the end-the looming interrogation, the surrounding fallout, the scorn of her parents, the end of her future as she knew it? Or simply putting an end to all of it?
Even as each thought rose to the surface, she was slowly unclipping her braid. Her fingers worked at the hinge for several moments until she was able to snap the bottom half of the clip off. All her life, she had had to be extra careful not to injure herself; it was ironic that the knowledge she'd used to protect herself would now be used for the opposite purpose.
She slowly pressed the sharp end of the now exposed hinge hard into her palm, watching the blood bloom to the surface in an almost detached manner, as if observing someone else. The cell seemed to fade away around her; her only anchor to reality was the sting of drawing the sharp edge up her arm, of making sure that Stayton and Balducci didn't pay her any extra attention. She kept her arms folded over, letting her shirt absorb the blood so it wouldn't be easily noticeable. With every step, the hateful sound of her parents' voices listing her faults echoed in her head; the angry faces of the crew flashed in front of her eyes. The final image that rose up was Kristin's and she closed her eyes against the sudden flare of guilt. I'll never be able to tell her how sorry I am....
She could tell when the blood loss began to affect her. The lightheadedness and dizziness began to set in but she continued to pace as best she could. Every step was now an effort and she struggled against the vertigo creeping up on her. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, making it difficult to focus on moving. Against her will, the hairclip slipped from her grasp to land on the deck with a light pinging sound.
"What was-what the hell? Look at her, Keith. She's gone dead white."
"What's your problem, Barrett? You sick or something?"
Charli slowly turned to look at the two men outside her cell. She stared uncomprehendingly at them for a full minute before finding her voice. "What are you...looking at?" She didn't realize until she spoke that she could only utter the words in a shaky whisper. Her knees buckled in the next instant and she dimly heard one of them yell her name as she hit the floor.
"What the hell happened to her??" Balducci's voice seemed miles away even though she could dimly see him towering above her.
"How should I know??" Stayton's voice was even farther away and he was hovering directly overhead. "You've been here with me for the last fifteen, you saw for yourse--holy hell, Dom. She's bleeding. How in the-"
"She slashed her arm open somehow." A flash of pain shot up the arm in question when it was lifted up.
"....impossible. She had nothing on her....brought her in. ...checked her myself."
"Isn't....her hairclip?"
"She used that?!"
"Must have. See the blood here...hinge was?"
"This...Crocker."
"Chief, Stayton here. We've...situation...."
"This is Balducci...medical team...brig on the double...Barrett's bleeding out...."
"Triage...we get there."
"Trying...not stopping it...."
The rush of blood in her ears was getting louder and louder, drowning out Stayton and Balducci's voices, even as new ones joined them. But she couldn't understand any of them. They were all yelling at her and she wished they'd stop. The sudden glimpse of Kristin's face-how could she be here?-hovered in her line of sight. She seemed to be just out of reach. Uncaring of the impossibility, Charli fought to find her voice, to make herself be heard above all the noise. "I'm-sorry. Di...didn't know...she meant-to harm....you...." It was all she could say as the darkness encroached on what remained of her vision and her last vestige of strength finally gave out.