The Hand of Wrath, chapter 10 [PG-13, seaQuest, Bridger/Westphalen, WIP]
school is OVER, woot.
index post
A/N: Many thanks to the lovely Scorp for assisting with crucial villain dialogue and also to Vici, my expert in all things O'Neill, for a second set of eyes on parts of his dialogue.
Also, the opening scene in this chapter contains potential triggering content. Non-graphic as always, but the warning is here regardless.
Chapter 10 ~ A Fire Fading
The cold had a tangible grip, its weight sapping her strength and adding further to her exertion. Kristin kicked frantically at the frigid water that surrounded her, trying desperately to propel herself upward. But no matter how hard she fought, the hand twined into her hair twisted it painfully in combination with forcing her further beneath the water. Her chest was aching fiercely, her ears ringing; every second that passed adding to her panicked terror.
She had to breathe! At that moment, she thought she felt the grip on her hair lessen; she kicked harder, bursting to the surface almost instantly. Disoriented and drained, she was in the midst of drawing in a much-needed deep breath when she was abruptly shoved underwater once more. The move caused her to inadvertently breathe in water, the salt stinging her sinuses. Her panic renewed itself twice over and she redoubled her attempt to surface--but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't break free. Exhaustion and the cold were weighing her down, and the continued struggle began to seem futile.
She had spent what felt like days drifting in and out of a fitful doze, ever mindful of the knowledge that the hypothermia was growing worse. She knew that from the muscle spasms that came and went, as well as the disorientation she had been experiencing for the past several hours. She also knew that she couldn't allow herself to fall fully asleep even though she craved it. That reminder was the one thing anchoring her to reality.
She had no idea what time it was when she was rudely awakened by being hauled to her feet. Dazed from constant shivering and the chill that had consumed her, her struggles against her wrists being bound or being dragged out of her cell were minimal. She had been dimly aware of how difficult it seemed to put one foot in front of the other, of how her balance kept wanting to fail her. It wasn't until the ground jolted sharply beneath her feet that she came fully to her senses. She barely registered Walt's usual cursing against nature in response; her attention riveted to Len's sudden presence, to the slapping of water against bedrock and the sight of the pool looming mere meters away. She tried in vain to drag her feet, even to break free of the hold Walt had on her arm. But instead he delivered a brutal kick to her ankle. She yelped and stumbled, and he took the opportunity to haul her the last remaining distance to throw her into the water.
When the pulling grip suddenly dragged her upward and her head broke the surface, she tried again to catch her breath--only to be once more thrust underwater. The searing pain of inhaling seawater once more consumed her and all of her remaining strength suddenly gave out as unconsciousness attempted to overwhelm her. Only the bite of icy air on her face made her realize that this latest round of torment had finally come to a stop. Even as they were lifting her, she was vomiting up the water she'd inhaled. It burned her throat, her nose--and, even when there was nothing left to expel, her lungs still burned. She closed her eyes against the vertigo, and it took two full minutes for that to settle the heaving. She cried out weakly at the sudden return of the painful grip on her hair, and she felt more than heard Len lean down over her.
"How does it feel, Kristin?" Len's fist tightened a fraction. "How does it feel to struggle for air, to feel the pressure crushing your lungs, to know that every breath might be your last?! Well, that's what Mari felt. Except, thanks to your darling Nathan, she didn't get any sort of reprieve." She let go suddenly, and Kristin winced as her cheek smacked the cold ground beneath her.
"Get her out of here. I can't stand the sight of her any longer."
Kristin was barely coherent as she was roughly dragged back to her feet. Walt and Kamik practically had to carry her back to her cell because she stumbled with every step. She was almost grateful when they made it, even though they all but tossed her down. But at least when she was still and kept her eyes closed, the world wasn't spinning around her.
"...much longer, do you think?" Kamik's voice was like a distant echo but she could make out what was being said if she focused.
"Len can't decide...do it. Only...slow--and she wants Hack...live feed....so Bridger has to watch."
"Too bad...only die once, hm?"
"True. But if Hack can get...set up...like a thousand times to Bridger...." Their combined laughter echoed dimly before it was cut off by the door slamming.
Dear God, please let them find me! She knew at this point that the chances of the crew rescuing in time were slim to none; even in her debilitated state, she couldn't stand the thought of allowing herself to give up. But the ache in her chest was now unbearable, which was only exacerbated by how cold she was-and she couldn't get in a proper deep breath. How much water had she aspirated? Enough to make things worse, she knew that much.
Overwhelmed by a sudden wave of dread that distracted her from her struggle to breathe, she forced her eyes open. Len was hovering over her, so close that her presence seemed to dominate the cell. She squeezed her eyes closed again, hoping that Len was merely a hypothermia-induced hallucination. But the other woman's soft words made her realize that it was no delusion.
"Don't think you're going to get away with simply succumbing to hypothermia, my dear. You're not going to escape that easily--and neither is your murdering lover. I'm going to destroy him, as well as his misguided sense of morality, once and for all. You'll be taking one last swim...but this time you won't be coming back up for air. He'll get to watch as the last breath is crushed out of you and the life fades from your eyes, knowing that you are paying the price for his crimes. And just as I'll never be able to sleep without seeing Mari suffer, so shall he carry the same burden--which is the least that he deserves for what he's done."
As the faint sound of retreating footsteps faded, Kristin tried to shift herself out of the puddle she was laying in, but it hurt too much to move more than a couple inches. The endeavor also instigated another violent coughing fit, and that pulled painfully at her still bound arms. When it finally ended, she found that breathing seemed increasingly difficult; each attempt more fatiguing than the last. Unconsciousness was beginning to pull at her again and, this time, she knew she would not be able to overcome it.
Nathan was right...should have let him know about Darwin....if only I had admitted I was wrong.... It was foolish to dwell on what ifs, but she couldn't stop them from floating to the forefront of her thoughts. She would never again talk to Katie, watch Lucas play with Darwin, hug Cynthia. And she would never be able to tell Nathan that she loved him.... Regret at that last realization welled up and triggered another round of coughing; the ache in her chest becoming more excruciating with each convulsion.
"Nath...forgive me...." The whispered words faded into silence as the darkness rose up to consume her.
(*)
Gray light filtered through an overcast sky down on the land that spread out before him. A distant peak loomed on the near horizon, its snowcapped visage overshadowed by the larger clouds creeping up behind it. Much closer was the aging tower, standing alone over the abandoned runway it had once been companion to. The only sign of its advanced age were the faint cracks that had spread spider-like around the base. Yet he instinctively knew that those cracks were merely superficial, that they would not cause the tower to fall. This was not the true danger.
The light began to abruptly fade and his sixth sense made him turn his attention back towards the mountain. The clouds around it had turned dark, forbidding-rolling forth to cloak the peak, and then flowing down its side in a wave....which unexpectedly increased in speed, heading straight for where he stood. His feet remained frozen to the spot; but even if he could move, he knew there was no point in trying to outrun it. The darkness loomed over the tower, swallowing it before moving directly towards him. As the clouds surrounded him and blotted out the remaining light, an oppressive chill overwhelmed his senses. He tried to breathe, but the raw cold had wrapped an iron fist around him and, combined with the weight of the darkness, made breathing an impossibility....
A faint, insistent chirping brought Nathan abruptly back to his senses. He shivered and stared into the dimness, disoriented by both his surroundings and the dull aching in his chest. Recognizing his quarters, he sighed and closed his eyes again, realizing that he had been dreaming. As he lay still, forcing himself to breathe slowly and deeply, the ache began to fade and, in moments, was gone as if it had never been.
But if it was just a dream, why am I still so cold? The chirping sound caught his attention again and he reached for his PAL where it lay on the shelf behind his head. "Bridger," he murmured, rubbing his arm with his free hand as another shiver coursed through him.
"Sorry to wake you, Captain." O'Neill's voice echoed through the line. "But we received another transmission...."
"I suppose she wants to talk only to me again," Nathan muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes and glancing at the clock. 0414.
"I don't believe it's a message from her. The source is definitely hers, but...well....it will be easier if you can see it for yourself."
"I'll be up there shortly."
(*)
Twenty minutes later, Nathan stepped off the Mag-Lev and onto the bridge, still shivering. The chill that he'd felt in his strange dream continued to linger, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. Resisting the urge to rub his arms again, he headed straight for the communications station. O'Neill turned in his chair at his approach and nodded a greeting, then narrowed his eyes in concern. "Are you all right, sir?"
"I'm fine." He ignored the skeptical look the younger man shot him. "Now what did you mean by the source is the same, but you don't think it's a message from her?"
"Every transmission from her thus far has been through the vidlink. This one, however, is text only-and it was originally encoded as well, but with a rather simplistic encoding. Took only five minutes to decode and this is what it contained." Tim gestured to the main communications screen and the text it currently displayed.
Nathan focused on the small screen and frowned in puzzlement. "What language is that?"
"I'm almost positive it's Aleut."
"Almost positive?" The question came out a little sharper than Nathan intended, but O'Neill continued with his explanation before he could attempt to apologize.
"The problem with a lot of Native languages is that there's no complete lexicon available because they are passed down orally from one generation to the next. Now I did run the text through a cross-reference against all available content in the linguistic databases to Aleut as well as its related dialects--Inuit, Yupik, etc.--to be certain. But the closest matches for most of the words syntax-wise coming back in the results appear to be Aleut. Unfortunately, what I have is probably an incomplete translation, and with questionable accuracy."
"I'm sure you did the best you could with the resources available. What did you come up with?"
Tim tapped in a command, bringing up a split screen of text-one side displaying the original, the other his translation. He trailed a finger across the screen as he read the translation aloud:
"If the darkness is not stopped, it will devour the soul,
No power of Kusuuginax will end it.
The struggle will not last,
A fire fading."
Nathan stared at the text for a long moment before shaking his head in confused frustration. "Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It doesn't make any sense to me, either. However, this transmission did provide us with one important clue: a possible location of where Len is hiding out at."
"You were able to successfully back trace it this time?"
O'Neill shook his head. "The clue is in the text." He tapped the screen with a finger. "Kusuuginax--the only word I couldn't find a translation for. It took me awhile to realize that it was a name, not a word, and when I entered that into the database...." He gestured with one hand towards the main viewscreen while keying in another command with the other. A map of Alaska and the Aleutian chain filled the screen. A small red star blinked rapidly on the western end of the island string before the image zoomed in to display a single island of an irregular shape that vaguely resembled a shark. "Kusuuginax happens to be the Aleut name for Mount Tanaga, a dormant volcano on the island of the same name."
"Tanaga Island is part of the Andreanof group," Miguel Ortiz spoke up from the sensor station, picking up where the communications officer had left off. "There is always constant mild seismic activity occurring, but according to historical records, the last actual eruption was in 1914." He flipped a switch, changing the map to an overhead view of the mountain, while the accompanying topographical and geological statistics scrolled beneath it.
"That seismic activity is likely the reason for the disruptions Lucas' software picked up from the prior transmissions," O'Neill interjected. "Minute enough not to show up on the video or disrupt the audio playback, yet it was picked up by the source computer during the initial transmitting."
"Tanaga's uninhabited, minus a couple Aleut villages on the far eastern side," Ortiz continued. "However, historical records also mentioned that, during World War II, the Navy built an emergency landing strip for pilots on the island. In 2003, NORPAC reopened and expanded the facility as an adjunct to their base on nearby Adak Island." The map shifted to display the southern half of the island, with a blinking star indicating the aforementioned location. "The expansion included refitting the existing structures, as well as adding a laboratory building for the use of NORPAC scientists. That building was actually constructed half above, half below the water line. Everything was eventually moved to Adak Naval Base permanently in 2009."
"Are there any images of the base in the historical archives?"
O'Neill nodded and tapped in a new command on his console. The image that replaced the map on the screen sent a new chill down Nathan's back.
"That's it," he whispered.
"Sir?"
Nathan didn't hear O'Neill's question, his gaze riveted to the image displayed on the viewscreen. The runway stretched out from right to left in the center of the photo, its control tower standing sentry behind it. In the far distance, behind the tower, a snowcapped mountain loomed on the horizon, its peak shrouded with a thick layer of clouds. Except for the newness of both tower and runway in the photo, it was the very image from his dream. "Mr. O'Neill, is Tanaga Island within the disbursement radius of the communication networks Len has been using?"
"Well within that area, actually."
"Then that's where she is. Contact Port Anchorage authority and tell them we're requesting immediate departure." O'Neill nodded and immediately turned to his console. "Mr. Ortiz, transfer the coordinates of Tanaga Island to navigation."
"Aye, sir."
Despite the little sleep he'd had, he was now wide awake, the prospect of finally having a solid lead energizing him. It would take a good six to eight hours at top speed to reach the island if the currents were with them; more than enough time to prepare for what was to come. O'Neill addressing him again distracted him from his thoughts. "Yes?"
"We're cleared to depart, but shouldn't we contact the NCIS office before we do? I thought Agent Moonin and her team were supposed to accompany us once we had determined Len's location."
Nathan shook his head. "It could take them an hour or more to get here; I'd rather not cause us further delay when it will take most of the day to get to the island." And Kristin may not have much longer. He tried to chase away the horrifying thought; his gaze returning to the viewscreen and the archival image of the control tower still displayed there, fixing on the visage of Mount Tanaga in the background. For a moment, he remembered the dark wave from his dream flowing down the mountain and the dread that recall brought made him shiver once more. When he glanced back at the viewscreen, the image had been removed. But the memory of his dream continued to linger, shadow-like, on the edge of his thoughts as he forced himself to focus on watching the bridge crew prepare for their departure.
index post
A/N: Many thanks to the lovely Scorp for assisting with crucial villain dialogue and also to Vici, my expert in all things O'Neill, for a second set of eyes on parts of his dialogue.
Also, the opening scene in this chapter contains potential triggering content. Non-graphic as always, but the warning is here regardless.
Chapter 10 ~ A Fire Fading
The cold had a tangible grip, its weight sapping her strength and adding further to her exertion. Kristin kicked frantically at the frigid water that surrounded her, trying desperately to propel herself upward. But no matter how hard she fought, the hand twined into her hair twisted it painfully in combination with forcing her further beneath the water. Her chest was aching fiercely, her ears ringing; every second that passed adding to her panicked terror.
She had to breathe! At that moment, she thought she felt the grip on her hair lessen; she kicked harder, bursting to the surface almost instantly. Disoriented and drained, she was in the midst of drawing in a much-needed deep breath when she was abruptly shoved underwater once more. The move caused her to inadvertently breathe in water, the salt stinging her sinuses. Her panic renewed itself twice over and she redoubled her attempt to surface--but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't break free. Exhaustion and the cold were weighing her down, and the continued struggle began to seem futile.
She had spent what felt like days drifting in and out of a fitful doze, ever mindful of the knowledge that the hypothermia was growing worse. She knew that from the muscle spasms that came and went, as well as the disorientation she had been experiencing for the past several hours. She also knew that she couldn't allow herself to fall fully asleep even though she craved it. That reminder was the one thing anchoring her to reality.
She had no idea what time it was when she was rudely awakened by being hauled to her feet. Dazed from constant shivering and the chill that had consumed her, her struggles against her wrists being bound or being dragged out of her cell were minimal. She had been dimly aware of how difficult it seemed to put one foot in front of the other, of how her balance kept wanting to fail her. It wasn't until the ground jolted sharply beneath her feet that she came fully to her senses. She barely registered Walt's usual cursing against nature in response; her attention riveted to Len's sudden presence, to the slapping of water against bedrock and the sight of the pool looming mere meters away. She tried in vain to drag her feet, even to break free of the hold Walt had on her arm. But instead he delivered a brutal kick to her ankle. She yelped and stumbled, and he took the opportunity to haul her the last remaining distance to throw her into the water.
When the pulling grip suddenly dragged her upward and her head broke the surface, she tried again to catch her breath--only to be once more thrust underwater. The searing pain of inhaling seawater once more consumed her and all of her remaining strength suddenly gave out as unconsciousness attempted to overwhelm her. Only the bite of icy air on her face made her realize that this latest round of torment had finally come to a stop. Even as they were lifting her, she was vomiting up the water she'd inhaled. It burned her throat, her nose--and, even when there was nothing left to expel, her lungs still burned. She closed her eyes against the vertigo, and it took two full minutes for that to settle the heaving. She cried out weakly at the sudden return of the painful grip on her hair, and she felt more than heard Len lean down over her.
"How does it feel, Kristin?" Len's fist tightened a fraction. "How does it feel to struggle for air, to feel the pressure crushing your lungs, to know that every breath might be your last?! Well, that's what Mari felt. Except, thanks to your darling Nathan, she didn't get any sort of reprieve." She let go suddenly, and Kristin winced as her cheek smacked the cold ground beneath her.
"Get her out of here. I can't stand the sight of her any longer."
Kristin was barely coherent as she was roughly dragged back to her feet. Walt and Kamik practically had to carry her back to her cell because she stumbled with every step. She was almost grateful when they made it, even though they all but tossed her down. But at least when she was still and kept her eyes closed, the world wasn't spinning around her.
"...much longer, do you think?" Kamik's voice was like a distant echo but she could make out what was being said if she focused.
"Len can't decide...do it. Only...slow--and she wants Hack...live feed....so Bridger has to watch."
"Too bad...only die once, hm?"
"True. But if Hack can get...set up...like a thousand times to Bridger...." Their combined laughter echoed dimly before it was cut off by the door slamming.
Dear God, please let them find me! She knew at this point that the chances of the crew rescuing in time were slim to none; even in her debilitated state, she couldn't stand the thought of allowing herself to give up. But the ache in her chest was now unbearable, which was only exacerbated by how cold she was-and she couldn't get in a proper deep breath. How much water had she aspirated? Enough to make things worse, she knew that much.
Overwhelmed by a sudden wave of dread that distracted her from her struggle to breathe, she forced her eyes open. Len was hovering over her, so close that her presence seemed to dominate the cell. She squeezed her eyes closed again, hoping that Len was merely a hypothermia-induced hallucination. But the other woman's soft words made her realize that it was no delusion.
"Don't think you're going to get away with simply succumbing to hypothermia, my dear. You're not going to escape that easily--and neither is your murdering lover. I'm going to destroy him, as well as his misguided sense of morality, once and for all. You'll be taking one last swim...but this time you won't be coming back up for air. He'll get to watch as the last breath is crushed out of you and the life fades from your eyes, knowing that you are paying the price for his crimes. And just as I'll never be able to sleep without seeing Mari suffer, so shall he carry the same burden--which is the least that he deserves for what he's done."
As the faint sound of retreating footsteps faded, Kristin tried to shift herself out of the puddle she was laying in, but it hurt too much to move more than a couple inches. The endeavor also instigated another violent coughing fit, and that pulled painfully at her still bound arms. When it finally ended, she found that breathing seemed increasingly difficult; each attempt more fatiguing than the last. Unconsciousness was beginning to pull at her again and, this time, she knew she would not be able to overcome it.
Nathan was right...should have let him know about Darwin....if only I had admitted I was wrong.... It was foolish to dwell on what ifs, but she couldn't stop them from floating to the forefront of her thoughts. She would never again talk to Katie, watch Lucas play with Darwin, hug Cynthia. And she would never be able to tell Nathan that she loved him.... Regret at that last realization welled up and triggered another round of coughing; the ache in her chest becoming more excruciating with each convulsion.
"Nath...forgive me...." The whispered words faded into silence as the darkness rose up to consume her.
(*)
Gray light filtered through an overcast sky down on the land that spread out before him. A distant peak loomed on the near horizon, its snowcapped visage overshadowed by the larger clouds creeping up behind it. Much closer was the aging tower, standing alone over the abandoned runway it had once been companion to. The only sign of its advanced age were the faint cracks that had spread spider-like around the base. Yet he instinctively knew that those cracks were merely superficial, that they would not cause the tower to fall. This was not the true danger.
The light began to abruptly fade and his sixth sense made him turn his attention back towards the mountain. The clouds around it had turned dark, forbidding-rolling forth to cloak the peak, and then flowing down its side in a wave....which unexpectedly increased in speed, heading straight for where he stood. His feet remained frozen to the spot; but even if he could move, he knew there was no point in trying to outrun it. The darkness loomed over the tower, swallowing it before moving directly towards him. As the clouds surrounded him and blotted out the remaining light, an oppressive chill overwhelmed his senses. He tried to breathe, but the raw cold had wrapped an iron fist around him and, combined with the weight of the darkness, made breathing an impossibility....
A faint, insistent chirping brought Nathan abruptly back to his senses. He shivered and stared into the dimness, disoriented by both his surroundings and the dull aching in his chest. Recognizing his quarters, he sighed and closed his eyes again, realizing that he had been dreaming. As he lay still, forcing himself to breathe slowly and deeply, the ache began to fade and, in moments, was gone as if it had never been.
But if it was just a dream, why am I still so cold? The chirping sound caught his attention again and he reached for his PAL where it lay on the shelf behind his head. "Bridger," he murmured, rubbing his arm with his free hand as another shiver coursed through him.
"Sorry to wake you, Captain." O'Neill's voice echoed through the line. "But we received another transmission...."
"I suppose she wants to talk only to me again," Nathan muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes and glancing at the clock. 0414.
"I don't believe it's a message from her. The source is definitely hers, but...well....it will be easier if you can see it for yourself."
"I'll be up there shortly."
(*)
Twenty minutes later, Nathan stepped off the Mag-Lev and onto the bridge, still shivering. The chill that he'd felt in his strange dream continued to linger, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. Resisting the urge to rub his arms again, he headed straight for the communications station. O'Neill turned in his chair at his approach and nodded a greeting, then narrowed his eyes in concern. "Are you all right, sir?"
"I'm fine." He ignored the skeptical look the younger man shot him. "Now what did you mean by the source is the same, but you don't think it's a message from her?"
"Every transmission from her thus far has been through the vidlink. This one, however, is text only-and it was originally encoded as well, but with a rather simplistic encoding. Took only five minutes to decode and this is what it contained." Tim gestured to the main communications screen and the text it currently displayed.
Nathan focused on the small screen and frowned in puzzlement. "What language is that?"
"I'm almost positive it's Aleut."
"Almost positive?" The question came out a little sharper than Nathan intended, but O'Neill continued with his explanation before he could attempt to apologize.
"The problem with a lot of Native languages is that there's no complete lexicon available because they are passed down orally from one generation to the next. Now I did run the text through a cross-reference against all available content in the linguistic databases to Aleut as well as its related dialects--Inuit, Yupik, etc.--to be certain. But the closest matches for most of the words syntax-wise coming back in the results appear to be Aleut. Unfortunately, what I have is probably an incomplete translation, and with questionable accuracy."
"I'm sure you did the best you could with the resources available. What did you come up with?"
Tim tapped in a command, bringing up a split screen of text-one side displaying the original, the other his translation. He trailed a finger across the screen as he read the translation aloud:
"If the darkness is not stopped, it will devour the soul,
No power of Kusuuginax will end it.
The struggle will not last,
A fire fading."
Nathan stared at the text for a long moment before shaking his head in confused frustration. "Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It doesn't make any sense to me, either. However, this transmission did provide us with one important clue: a possible location of where Len is hiding out at."
"You were able to successfully back trace it this time?"
O'Neill shook his head. "The clue is in the text." He tapped the screen with a finger. "Kusuuginax--the only word I couldn't find a translation for. It took me awhile to realize that it was a name, not a word, and when I entered that into the database...." He gestured with one hand towards the main viewscreen while keying in another command with the other. A map of Alaska and the Aleutian chain filled the screen. A small red star blinked rapidly on the western end of the island string before the image zoomed in to display a single island of an irregular shape that vaguely resembled a shark. "Kusuuginax happens to be the Aleut name for Mount Tanaga, a dormant volcano on the island of the same name."
"Tanaga Island is part of the Andreanof group," Miguel Ortiz spoke up from the sensor station, picking up where the communications officer had left off. "There is always constant mild seismic activity occurring, but according to historical records, the last actual eruption was in 1914." He flipped a switch, changing the map to an overhead view of the mountain, while the accompanying topographical and geological statistics scrolled beneath it.
"That seismic activity is likely the reason for the disruptions Lucas' software picked up from the prior transmissions," O'Neill interjected. "Minute enough not to show up on the video or disrupt the audio playback, yet it was picked up by the source computer during the initial transmitting."
"Tanaga's uninhabited, minus a couple Aleut villages on the far eastern side," Ortiz continued. "However, historical records also mentioned that, during World War II, the Navy built an emergency landing strip for pilots on the island. In 2003, NORPAC reopened and expanded the facility as an adjunct to their base on nearby Adak Island." The map shifted to display the southern half of the island, with a blinking star indicating the aforementioned location. "The expansion included refitting the existing structures, as well as adding a laboratory building for the use of NORPAC scientists. That building was actually constructed half above, half below the water line. Everything was eventually moved to Adak Naval Base permanently in 2009."
"Are there any images of the base in the historical archives?"
O'Neill nodded and tapped in a new command on his console. The image that replaced the map on the screen sent a new chill down Nathan's back.
"That's it," he whispered.
"Sir?"
Nathan didn't hear O'Neill's question, his gaze riveted to the image displayed on the viewscreen. The runway stretched out from right to left in the center of the photo, its control tower standing sentry behind it. In the far distance, behind the tower, a snowcapped mountain loomed on the horizon, its peak shrouded with a thick layer of clouds. Except for the newness of both tower and runway in the photo, it was the very image from his dream. "Mr. O'Neill, is Tanaga Island within the disbursement radius of the communication networks Len has been using?"
"Well within that area, actually."
"Then that's where she is. Contact Port Anchorage authority and tell them we're requesting immediate departure." O'Neill nodded and immediately turned to his console. "Mr. Ortiz, transfer the coordinates of Tanaga Island to navigation."
"Aye, sir."
Despite the little sleep he'd had, he was now wide awake, the prospect of finally having a solid lead energizing him. It would take a good six to eight hours at top speed to reach the island if the currents were with them; more than enough time to prepare for what was to come. O'Neill addressing him again distracted him from his thoughts. "Yes?"
"We're cleared to depart, but shouldn't we contact the NCIS office before we do? I thought Agent Moonin and her team were supposed to accompany us once we had determined Len's location."
Nathan shook his head. "It could take them an hour or more to get here; I'd rather not cause us further delay when it will take most of the day to get to the island." And Kristin may not have much longer. He tried to chase away the horrifying thought; his gaze returning to the viewscreen and the archival image of the control tower still displayed there, fixing on the visage of Mount Tanaga in the background. For a moment, he remembered the dark wave from his dream flowing down the mountain and the dread that recall brought made him shiver once more. When he glanced back at the viewscreen, the image had been removed. But the memory of his dream continued to linger, shadow-like, on the edge of his thoughts as he forced himself to focus on watching the bridge crew prepare for their departure.