Prologue

Mid-September 2019 - Hawaiian Islands

Stepping silently through the darkness, Nathan Bridger pulled his shirt on and fumbled with the buttons. He managed to get one or two fastened as he searched for his shoes, finally stumbling across them just inside the doorway of the bedroom. His socks were nowhere to be found but that certainly wasn't an earth-shattering crisis. Cautiously sitting down at the foot of the bed he pulled one sneaker on and tightened the laces. He was bending forward to pick the other one up from the floor when the figure which lay curled within the bedclothes stirred. Bridger held his breath and waited, hoping against hope that she wouldn't wake up. His prayer was apparently answered as he heard her breathing return to the soft rhythmic cadence of sleep. Releasing the breath he was holding, Nathan finished his task then carefully stood and quietly made his way down the stairs to the living room, gathering his wallet and car keys from the end table as he did so and continuing with the buttons on his shirt as he made a bee-line for the door.

"What are you doing?"

The sleepy voice from the darkness behind him stopped Nathan in his tracks, his hand freezing in mid-air as he reached for the door knob. He grimaced, his back still toward her as he recognized what was coming, then dropped his hand and slowly turned around.

"Ummmm..." Raking his fingers through untidy hair he took a cautious step forward. "I need to get out of here... I have an early schedule tomorrow." Nathan's gaze lit on the luminescent numerals of the mantle clock. "Today," he corrected.

"Oh."

Kristin pulled her robe closer about her, then wrapped her arms around herself in an almost protective gesture as she exchanged stares with Nathan. A shaft of moonlight drifted through the half open curtain, catching her hair in its glow and turning it into an auburn halo against her shoulders. Involuntarily Nathan moved closer, a few short steps carrying him to within a few feet of her. Stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his brown cords, he gave a hesitant half-shrug as his dark gaze roamed over her.

"I'm sorry," he offered in a low voice.

Kristin looked away.

"Of course."

Nathan stared at her, trying to gauge her mood, yet unable to read her expression as she turned her face toward the window and stared into the cool night beyond.

"Kris--"

"Just go, Nathan..." she murmured, her words stopping him in his tracks as he began to move closer, "...please."

He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and decided to let the matter drop. Instead he just nodded, eyeing her critically for a moment before turning and heading once again for the door. With his hand on the knob he glanced back at her.

"Why don't you go back to bed and get some sleep," he urged softly. "I'll see you tonight."

Kristin ran weary fingers through tangled russet hair and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

"I... ummm... have some things I need to do tonight," she demurred, her voice distant.

"Oh," Nathan muttered, unconsciously echoing her earlier reply. He turned back to the door and stopped, one hand tiredly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared down at the floor. Finally he looked up and attempted to catch Kristin's gaze.

"Look..." he murmured, scratching his jaw thoughtfully, "... why don't we do something this weekend. I can take a few days... we can go somewhere."

"You think so?"

Nathan frowned at Kristin's skeptical tone but chose to ignore it.

"Yeah," he said instead, leaning with his back against the door. "Maybe we can charter a plane to one of the islands. Rent a place for a few days..."

Kristin waited a beat.

"You have a perfectly good island," she reminded him.

Nathan's eyes didn't change expression... but it seemed to Kristin that he somehow withdrew into himself... and away from her. After a long moment a shadowed smile curved his lips.

"I think that would probably take more than a few days... don't you?" Though she identified a slight tenseness in the way he held himself, his tone was nevertheless nonchalant. "Maybe we should save that for later in the fall."

Kristin's sable gaze rested on the profile he suddenly presented to her. He appeared to be avoiding her eyes... eyes which flicked briefly over neatly trimmed dark hair now flecked with gray and an autocratic nose which somehow emphasized his often aloof attitude. Her gaze landed on his mouth and remained there for a few seconds before she glanced away. Absently tightening the sash of her robe, she stuck her hands into its deep pockets and returned her gaze to the window and the moonlit blackness visible beyond its panes.

"Sometimes I wonder if it really exists," she murmured, almost to herself.

"What?"

Kristin shifted her eyes to Nathan's, to the sudden confusion she found in their deep blue depths.

"Nothing," she muttered, shaking her head, then hurriedly continued as he pushed himself away from the wall and seemed about to say something further. "Do you think you can find time to make the arrangements... or do you want me to do it?"

Nathan blinked, uncertain for a moment about what she was referring to, and slightly nonplused by the faint sarcasm which edged her soft British drawl.

"This weekend?" Kristin prompted with a raise of eyebrows.

"Oh... yeah. I'll take care of it." Reaching behind himself he pulled the door open. "Friday evening okay? We can come back Sunday night." Her brief nod of acquiescence brought a faint smile to Bridger's lips. Her eyes met his again, an unreadable expression in their shadowed depths, intensified by the dimness of the room. He wanted to walk across the room, pull her into his arms and kiss away whatever strange uncertainty lurked there... but was somehow afraid of her reaction. He wasn't quite certain why. And it scared him. Instead he breathed a deep sigh and pushed against the outer door. Stepping onto the porch he closed it behind him, then motioned through the glass for Kristin to lock it. She slowly moved across the room and did so... the resounding click of the latch fitting into place seemingly loud and strangely final in the silent stillness. Giving her a slight smile and saluting the glass of the door with a tap, Nathan turned and hurried down the steps, his hands buried in his pockets and his eyes staring broodingly at the sand beneath his feet as he headed to his car.

Kristin stood in the doorway and watched him walk away from her... not for the first time... though more often than not she did so from behind the relative security of her bedroom window and the lace curtains which covered them and fluttered in the nighttime breeze. She watched as the automobile lights came on and heard the engine catch, her ruminative gaze on the red of the tail lights as Nathan swung the car in an arc and headed toward the main road. She stood where she was until all evidence of the vehicle and its occupant disappeared from view, then quietly closed the door and returned to the bedroom. Tossing her robe across a chair Kristin crawled back into bed, pulling the sheet up to cover herself. She lay on her back, staring into the darkness, for a long time following Nathan's departure. Rolling onto her side she felt the faint warmth that his presence had created. Her arm went around the pillow his head had lain on and she pulled it close to her body, inhaling the masculine odor imbedded there... a musky combination of aftershave, perspiration and the sea. With a trembling sigh she closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep. Instead, she lay awake until the sun crept over the horizon, her thoughts becoming increasingly confused as she contemplated the future.

Thirty minutes found Nathan Bridger reclining on a deck chair just outside the back door of his beach house, nursing a cup of tepid coffee and wondering what his big rush had been. He glanced at his watch. It was barely five in the morning. His excuse about having an early schedule had been genuine... but it hadn't been reason enough to send him scurrying from Kristin's beachfront condo as if half the zombies from "Night of the Living Dead" had been hot on his trail. Setting his cup on the ground he ran weary fingers through his hair, then leaned back and stared through the moonlit night toward the beach, toward the waves crashing against the shore before falling unceremoniously back into the ocean.

Since the destruction of the original seaQuest almost three and a half months previously... even before that actually... Nathan Bridger and Kristin Westphalen had become what Chief Manilow Crocker jokingly referred to as 'tighter than bark on a tree'. Where one was to be found... outside of work of course... you could be almost certain to find the other. But during the last few weeks, since almost the exact moment actual construction had begun on the new ship, there'd been a strain in the relationship. Nathan sighed and shook his head. Maybe that wasn't the word for it. More like a distance between them. He knew he'd been working long hours and that he and Kristin weren't able to spend as much time together as they wanted... but he was certain she understood the situation. Was certain she realized that it wouldn't last forever. That as soon as he was secure in the knowledge that everything was moving according to schedule at the shipyards... things would get back to normal. Then again... it wasn't like he was the only one spending extended hours on the job. Kristin had been putting in her fair share of overtime shuffling between her office and the labs at the UEO's Department of Biological Oceanography.

With a drawn out sigh Bridger decided that maybe the weekend outing he'd suggested was just what they needed. Glancing at his watch once again he noted that the small hand had surreptitiously crept past six... and figured that now was as good a time as any to make those reservations. An eager smile began to curve his lips as he headed for the vid-phone...

Brushing a comb through her hair and tying it back with a blue silk ribbon... more as a means to pass the time than because she hadn't already done it twice during the past half hour... Kristin resignedly looked at her watch. He was late. They were due to fly out at eight-fifteen and it was now past eight-thirty. By the time they reached the airport it would be almost nine... and that only if he showed up within the next few minutes. Damn the man... she muttered to herself, then glanced out the door as a car rounded the curve and came to a stop beside the house. Grabbing her bag and pulling the door shut behind her, Kristin was next to the silver-blue Mercedes with her hand on the door handle almost before Nathan could get out of the car. She watched as he walked around to her side, ostensibly to open the door for her, an expression half amused and half mutinous in her deep brown gaze.

"Don't you think--"

Nathan's hand appeared from behind his back and a single red rose was pressed into her palm.

"For you," he murmured, a cautious gleam in his eyes as he settled her bag on the back seat and held the door open for her.

"Don't you dare try to bribe yourself into my good graces."

His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her close, at the same time ducking his head to hers to exchange a kiss bordering on the erotic. They both drew ragged breaths when he finally lifted his head.

"Was that better?"

"I'll... think about it," Kristin answered weakly, burying her nose in the fragrant petals of the rose as she slid into the front seat of the car and waited for Nathan to join her.

The trip to the airport was uneventful... as was the twenty-five minute plane ride to the big island of Hawaii. By midnight they were ensconced in a secluded bungalow somewhere that Kristin figured she'd never be able to find her way out of if she was alone... and probably wouldn't be able to find her way back to if she was asked. It was close to the beach, yet hidden away by the foliage of a proverbial rain forest... and that was all she knew. Later... as they walked hand in hand along the cooling sands of the beach... she voiced her approval.

"This is nice."

"Yes... it is," Nathan agreed, his gaze on her profile made visible by the almost full moon.

"This isn't a rental place is it?" Kristin asked, turning her head to meet his eyes.

"No."

"Who does it belong to?"

"A... friend."

Kristin smiled slightly at his evasive answer.

"Sorry... I don't mean to be nosy."

"I know..." His hand slipped from hers to wander to her russet hair, gently brushing his fingers through the wind-blown tendrils before he lowered his arm to her waist and pulled her closer. He urged her into a u-turn and they headed slowly back to the cottage. "Actually... its Malcolm's."

Kristin raised one eyebrow in disbelief.

"I didn't know he had such good taste."

"He doesn't. It landed in his lap when one of his heavily endorsed customers hit a streak of bad luck and couldn't pay for services rendered."

"Have you been here before?" Kristin asked curiously as they approached the door. Nathan opened it and turned to face her before they stepped over the threshold.

"No..." he murmured, shaking his head. He stared into her eyes as she leaned against the doorjamb. "Hungry?"

Kristin's mouth tipped up at one corner.

"Depends."

Nathan ushered her into the house and pushed the door shut.

"Tired?" he asked, moving to stand in front of her.

"A little," she murmured, her hands light against his chest as his arms went around her to rub gently against her back.

"You should get some rest then," he softly told her.

Kristin smiled at the hesitant question in his dark eyes.

"I'm not that tired," she said, her voice suddenly husky with desire.

Nathan swallowed.

"Good," he whispered, his lips meeting hers hungrily.

Time passed slowly... then he finally raised his head, took her hand in his, and led her into the bedroom. Within moments they were on the bed... warmth and beauty pressed close to strength and muscle... silk against steel... soft curves against hard angles. Skin against skin. Lips meeting in yet another earth-shattering kiss. Kristin sighed audibly, her breathing ragged, as Nathan's mouth left hers and began tracing a sensuous path along her jaw and neck... his tongue leaving a moist trail as he moved down her body. She moved experimentally against him... the material beneath her back wonderfully cool. She smiled faintly as her fingers tangled in his hair.

"Silk sheets," she whispered.

"Mmmmmm..." Nathan muttered, bringing his mouth back to hers as he covered her body with his, "...Malcolm does tend to get carried away."

"I like it," Kristin breathed against his neck.

"Sweetheart..." Nathan murmured as he kissed her again, "...you want silk sheets... I'll get you silk sheets."

"Would you?"

"Anything you want..."

"Right now all I want is you..." she whispered, her breath catching as he brought them together more intimately. She stared into his eyes, mesmerized by they way they darkened with such intensity, the darkest of blues fluctuating to ebony as they began to move in a gentle rhythm. He brought his lips back to hers and kissed her deeply, then buried his face against the curve of her neck as the world seemed to explode around them.

"I love you..." Kristin whispered, her words a soft breath against Nathan's shoulder. Nathan smiled, his unshaven chin rough against her soft skin. Relaxing against her, he rolled to his side, taking her with him and tightening his arms around her. He opened his eyes to find her watching him drowsily.

"Okay..." he murmured, his hand sliding in a smooth caress from her hip to her shoulder.

"Mmmmmm..."

Her gaze dropped to his chin... something reflected in it that Nathan couldn't quite fathom. His fingers trailed through her soft russet hair as he pulled her closer, her head resting securely in the curve of his shoulder.

"You sure?"

Kristin nodded, her arm creeping around him to rest warmly against his back. Nathan held her as her breathing returned to its normal cadence, a slight frown settling between his eyes as he watched her struggle silently against a sleep which claimed her anyway.

Nathan frowned. Someone was definitely doing a tap dance on his skull. Had to be. One eye slowly opened, leaving him staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. The other eye opened. Exasperation mixed with confusion as the noise continued. Familiarity came only with the warm weight draped along his side and the arm laying across his chest. Deciding that it didn't really matter where he was... and that maybe he really didn't care what was going on outside... he let his eyes slowly close.

The noise came closer. Nathan's eyes popped back open as he sat up in bed, finally realizing where he was... a place where such things weren't supposed to happen.

"What the--" he muttered, jumping out of bed and pulling his pants on as he crossed the bedroom and narrow foyer to pull the door open, "--hell!"

The door swung crazily on its hinges as he stepped onto the porch and glared at the man who grinned back at him. The glare became a scowl.

"What the hell do you want?" Nathan growled.

The grin on Malcolm Lansdowne's face widened, if that was possible. He shrugged in obvious unconcern at Bridger's atrocious welcome.

"Just happened to be passing by..." he jovially answered, leaning into the open door of his car and reappearing with a large box in his hand, "...and figured you might like some breakfast. Didn't know if you'd... ummm... manage to find time to think about such a mundane thing..." he ended suggestively, stepping cautiously forward and gingerly depositing the box on the porch at Nathan's feet. One eyebrow tweaked upward as his glance landed beyond Nathan's shoulder.

Nathan slanted a glance sideways as he felt a hand on his back, realizing that Kristin stood immediately behind him, from the look of things clad in no more than a blanket pulled hastily from the bed as she stared over his shoulder at their early morning visitor. His eyes narrowed on Lansdowne.

"Just passing by, huh?" he grumbled. "You should have kept ongoing."

"My... you're really not a very nice person first thing in the morning, you know that? Here I am--"

"Thank you, Malcolm," Kristin murmured against Nathan's shoulder, her breath a warm caress against his skin as she offered Lansdowne a crooked and somewhat apologetic smile.

Malcolm smiled triumphantly then retreated hastily to his car as Nathan descended the first step of the porch. Kristin crept along behind him, seemingly glued to his back, one hand at his waist while the other kept the blanket in place. As Malcolm's vehicle disappeared along the winding trail which passed for a road Bridger turned around, his hand clutching at a handfull of blanket as Kristin rescued the box Lansdowne had left behind... and which was now emitting a sumptuous aroma of fresh pastry. Kristin wrinkled her nose and a smile curved her lips as she opened the lid and studied her choices. Unable to help himself, Nathan ducked his head and captured her lips, removing the container from her hands as her arms lifted to encircle his shoulders. He dropped it to a bench, forgotten, as he lifted her easily in his arms and carried her back inside the house. The quilt fell to the floor, unheeded, somewhere between the front door and the bedroom.

Hands buried deep in the pockets of white cords, Nathan wandered slowly along the beach, his eyes on the woman who sat motionless on the sand just beyond the breakers. Arms draped loosely around drawn up knees, she stared out over the sea, toward the blood red sun which was slowly setting along the western horizon.

"Hey," he murmured, coming up behind her and gently nudging her with a bare toe. "You about ready to go?"

"I suppose so," Kristin whispered... a bit pensively Nathan decided... without shifting her gaze. He stood there a moment, staring down at the top of her head, watching as the sea breeze gently ruffled the soft hair at her temples. Cautiously he sat down behind her, embracing her with the hard length of his legs as she leaned back against his chest. Her hands moved restlessly against his thighs before she turned her head slightly to look up into his face. "If we have to."

Nathan smiled into her eyes.

"Nobody says we have to do anything..." he whispered next to her ear, "...but its getting late... and I have to work tomorrow and you have to work tomorrow. If we leave now and stop for dinner it'll still be almost midnight before we get home."

Kristin sighed with resigned acceptance.

"I guess you're right..."

Nathan pushed himself to his feet and grabbed her hand, pulling her up to join him and placing a brief kiss on her lips as he turned her toward the bungalow. Hand in hand they walked back up the beach as the sun slowly sank into the ocean.

Kristin put down her spoon after finishing off the last bite of her chocolate pudding, idly watching as Nathan played with the ice cubes in his tea... picking them up with a long handled tea spoon and dropping them back into the glass so that they emitted small splashes. His mind was obviously elsewhere... something she hadn't expected to happen at least until the drive home. Their plane had landed at nine-thirty, giving them enough time to drive into Honolulu for a quiet dinner at one of the small restaurants frequented by personnel from both the naval base and the nearby headquarters of the UEO. Kristin's mind went off on a tangent as she briefly wondered how she had ever managed to become so comfortable in such a setting... then her eyes wandered back to Nathan.

She gazed at him for a moment... then took a deep breath... knowing that what she was about to say wasn't going to go over very well.

"Nathan."

No response.

"Nathan?"

"Hmmmmm?" Bridger raised his head and stared at her absently.

"You haven't heard a word I've been saying."

"Of course I have," he murmured, frowning as he searched his mind for some sort of clue as to what she'd been talking about. He laid down his spoon and leaned forward, opening his mouth to make some type of response, though he wasn't sure what it would be.

"That's funny..." Kristin continued before he could get a word out. "Considering I haven't said a word in twenty minutes."

Nathan's frown grew as he leaned back in his chair and stared across the table at her.

"Is there a point to this?" he sighed.

"Yes."

"Okay... what?"

Kristin ran her tongue over her lips nervously, fiddling with her own spoon and staring at it as she formed the words she wanted to say.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking lately..."

"Uh oh."

She ignored the sudden amusement in his eyes.

"We haven't..." she shrugged hesitantly and stared at a point beyond his right shoulder, "...it doesn't seem like we've been able to spend much time together lately."

"I realize that," Nathan responded quietly.

"Don't you think--"

"Kristin... we've had this discussion before," he interrupted, resting tanned forearms on the table as he leaned forward and studied her expression. "It's not gonna last forever... I promise."

"It feels like its already been forever," she murmured, staring down at her hands for a moment before raising her eyes to meet his. "Nathan... I'd like to see you sometime other than..." she shrugged uncertainly, "...than between midnight and four in the morning. Sometimes I feel like..." With a sigh she dropped her gaze.

"Like what?" Bridger frowned.

"Like... I don't know... like... I've become nothing more than a convenience..."

Nathan's eyes widened in shock as he stared at Kristin.

"Like..." His voice trailed off as he slowly shook his head. "I never meant..."

"I know..." Kristin interrupted. "I didn't mean that like it sounded. I'm just... I don't know. Tired, I guess."

"Kris--"

She stared at him blankly for a moment... then released a sad sigh and shook her head.

"What?" he prompted.

"I think... I need a break."

"What do you mean?" Nathan muttered into the sudden silence, knowing full well what she meant.

Kristin's voice was gentle as she answered.

"I mean... I think it would be a good idea if we didn't..." she shrugged narrow shoulders, "...if we didn't... see each other... for a while."

Nathan felt the sweat suddenly break out on his forehead as he silently digested the words of the woman sitting across from him. Kristin's eyes held his as she waited for his reaction.

"What do you mean... for a while?"

"I guess until..." she shrugged again, "...until you decide what your priorities are."

Nathan frowned and was set to respond when she forstalled him.

"Nathan..." Kristin leaned forward, an urgency in her tone. "You spend eighteen hours a day at the base... with your computers and your blueprints and that... that bloody ship! I hardly see you anymore. You appear on my doorstep in the middle of the night... you leave before I wake up in the morning..." She collapsed back in her chair with a weary sigh. "Nathan... there has to be something more."

He chewed on his lip and stared at his palm, rubbing it nervously with the thumb of his other hand. After a while he nodded.

"I'm sorry..." he murmured without lifting his eyes. "I never meant for you to feel like I was taking you for granted." Finally he looked at her. "That's something I would never do."

Kristin steeled herself against the hurt in Nathan's eyes.

"Not purposely," she agreed softly. "Nathan... I don't want it to sound like I'm whining. I understand your work. I know it's important to you. It's important to me."

"I know," Bridger returned quietly. "You're right."

He frowned and raked his fingers through his hair, leaving them there for a moment as he rested his elbow on the table, then he abruptly pushed his chair back.

"I guess I'd better get you home, huh?"

The twenty minute drive to Kristin's beachfront condo was spent in silence. Once there, and still without saying anything, Nathan helped her out of the car and accompanied her to the door.

She felt his eyes on her as she searched her purse for the house keys.

"What exactly does... time apart... mean?" Nathan asked quietly, breaking the oppressive silence.

"It mean..." Kristin lifted one shoulder in a hesitant shrug as she retrieved her keys, "...time apart."

Nathan averted his face and stared across the beach.

"It's not because... you want to see someone else... is it?" he wondered, his almost inaudible words drifting to her on the night breeze.

Kristin stared at him in surprise.

"No... its not because I want to see someone else," she assured him in a soft voice, noticing his sudden awkwardness and the way he hid his hands in his pockets.

Nathan felt himself relax slightly at her words. After a few seconds he glanced at her, a rueful smile curving his lips.

"It's been a while since I've been dumped," he murmured, the look in his eyes not quite matching the smile on his face.

"Nathan... I'm not dumping you. I love you."

He stared at her with a lost look.

"I can't let you just walk out of my life."

Kristin moved until she was merely a hands breadth away from him. Raising a hesitant hand she tentatively ran her fingers over his jaw and chin in a light caress, then brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"I'm not walking out of your life," she whispered. "We both just need a little time to think... and some space to breathe."

Nathan nodded... then slowly bent his head toward hers. He touched her lips with his... lightly at first. When she didn't pull away he deepened the kiss, not touching her in any other way, simply allowing her to feel his emotions through that simple contact. It was Kristin who pulled away... gently brushing his lips with her fingers as she gazed at him.

"I'll call you... okay?"

With those words she slipped into the house and softly closed the door behind her. She watched from the darkened window as Nathan slowly made his way to the car, then stood next to it for a long time, staring down at the ground. Finally, unable to bear her own pain, she turned away...

Chapter One
'The Better Part of Valor'
 

Manilow Crocker, former Chief of Security aboard the UEO's prized flagship seaQuest and currently blending into the realm of private security in his new position with Tucker Industries, stared at his former commanding officer. He stood in the doorway of Nathan Bridger's makeshift office aboard the new seaQuest, which was under construction in the shipyards of the Pearl Harbor Naval Station under the jurisdiction of the UEO. Actually he'd been standing in the same position for some minutes without Bridger noticing him. He frowned and craned his neck, trying to get a look at whatever it was Nathan was doing... which seemed to be nothing more than staring into thin air with a preoccupied expression. Finally, realizing that if he didn't do something fast he'd never be noticed, Crocker stepped further into the room. Then, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest, he cleared his throat... loudly and suggestively. It took a few seconds for the sound to sink in... but Bridger finally glanced up. He stared at Crocker blankly for a few seconds before he pushed himself out of his chair, a wide smile on his face as he stepped around the desk to clasp his friend's hand and exchange a brief bear hug.

"Gator... you old son of a gun!" he growled. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be off peddling those micro analytic thingamajigs... or whatever they're called... for your new bosses."

"Yeah... well..." Crocker grinned back, rubbing a hand over his beard as he eyed Bridger, "...I happened to be in the neighborhood so I thought I'd stop by... see how things are comin' along."

"Good... good," Nathan nodded, then slapped Crocker on the back again. "It's damn good to see you, Chief."

"Same here, Cap." Crocker ran a hand through his hair, feeling strangely bereft without the cap he'd always worn aboard ship. "You know... it's real strange how you miss things you never thought you'd miss. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah... that I do," Bridger mused. "That I do, Chief."

"So..." Crocker continued after a brief pause, during which he allowed his eyes to roam the interior of Bridger's office before coming to rest on Bridger himself, "...aren't ya gonna offer me the grand tour?"

"You bet..." Nathan answered, placing a hand on Crocker's back and motioning him through the door. "See anybody on your way in?"

"Naw... just some of the construction crew," he rejoined, his wide gaze on the inner workings of the ship which were finally beginning to take shape. He shook his head in silent wonder. "Ain't it amazin', Cap? How fast they can get something like this built these days?"

Nodding his agreement, Bridger steered his friend along the ship's narrow main corridor, pointing out a new gadget here and an unpdated device there. The engine room and security area received a thorough examination, followed by a quick trip by the crew's quarters.

"You people are gonna be livin' the life of Riley... that's all I gotta say," Crocker muttered toward the end, once again shaking his head in the wonder of it all. Thirty minutes after they began they found themselves back in Bridger's office. He wandered around aimlessly for a few moments before turning his attention to Crocker.

"So Chief... what say I spring for dinner?"

"Naw, Cap... thanks. Supper's done passed me by." Crocker's eyes narrowed slyly. "But I can't say that I'd mind a couple free drinks."

Nathan visibly considered the offer before finally nodding.

"Sounds like a good idea to me... I could use one myself." Thirty minutes later found them deep in the heart of downtown Honolulu, ensconsed in a side booth at "Shelley's Bar and Grill".

The country club of bars, it was run by none other than Captain Calvin Shelley, USN Retired, and had been open for business for approximately two months... or since Shelley had surprised just about everyone he knew with his sudden retirement. Bridger still couldn't help but smile as he remembered the way Shelley had so blatantly attempted to kidnap a number of his crew members during seaQuest's first, and unfortunately only, tour of duty. Luckily for him he and his people had been able to win that idiotic volleyball game... or Jonathan Ford might today be wearing the uniform of Captain and serving on a ship other than seaQuest.

"And just what the hell are you smiling about?" Shelley demanded, doing the unthinkable and actually waiting on them himself.

"Oh nothing... nothing at all," Nathan replied innocently.

"Yeah... I'll just bet," was Shelley's sarcastic answer. "So... what'll it be?"

"Depends."

Shelley gave an exaggerated sigh and ran a hand over his crew cut hair.

"Still trying to make me pay, huh Nathan?"

Bridger laughed and shook his head.

"No, Shelley... I'm not. Just bring us a bottle of your strongest stuff and a couple glasses."

Shelley nodded and moved away, returning a few minutes later with a bottle of aged bourbon which he placed in the center of the table. With an unreadable glance at Crocker he set the glasses next to the bottle, then directed his attention to Bridger as he began to pour.

"This one's on the house."

Nathan raised an eyebrow.

"The drink... or the bottle?"

"Bottle."

"I'm impressed."

"Don't be."

"Okay," Bridger agreed, raising his glass in a brief salute.

With another obscure glance at Crocker Shelley turned away.

"What's his problem?"

"Hmmmm?"

"He keeps giving me these strange looks," Crocker grumbled.

"Just ignore him... he'll go away."

Crocker grinned and tossed back his drink.

The two men sat in companionable silence for a while, their long standing association making small talk unnecessary. Crocker caught Shelley giving him the odd glance every once in a while, but as Bridger had instructed he attempted to ignore him. He noticed that Nathan, for his part, was apparently too absorbed in his own thoughts to pay much attention to anything else. After the third drink, and beginning to feel a bit mellow, he leaned back in his chair and grinned.

"Now this is what I call living."

When Bridger didn't answer a sudden thought struck Crocker.

"Uh..." he leaned forward awkwardly, "...maybe there's someplace else you'd rather be, huh Cap? I mean... you don't have to entertain me. I pretty much know my way around."

Nathan stared into his drink.

"I mean... you know..." he shrugged, "...if the Doc's waiting on ya... well... you just take off. Don't mind me."

Bridger shook his head.

"No... she's not waiting on me," he finally said.

"Oh, that's good. I mean... it's not good but... hell... you know what I mean." He watched Nathan, waiting for him to answer, then frowned when he remained silent.

"Uh... Cap... you don't mean you and the Doc..."

Nathan heard the question in Crocker's voice but didn't immediately answer. After a few seconds he downed his drink, then reached for the bottle and refilled his glass. Finally he looked up.

"She said... I was working too hard... and she never got to see me anymore."

"Aw hell..." Crocker fell back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair strictly out of habit. His chin sunk down onto his chest as he considered what he'd just heard. Lifting his eyes he stared hard at his friend, wondering exactly what he was thinking, wanting to say something to sooth the hurt he knew existed somewhere beneath that emotionless wall Nathan always appeared to hide behind. As such he took the optimistic approach when he next spoke.

"Hey, Cap..." he spoke softly into the silence, "...you know women. They can never make up their minds. One day its 'you're working too hard and don't have time for me'... the next day its 'go away and leave me alone'. It was the same way with my wife... and do you see me complaining?"

Nathan stared at him.

"You're divorced."

"Like I said... do you see me complaining?"

"No," Nathan muttered.

"Anyway... how long's it been since she told you that? A day or two? A week? She's probably over it and wondering where you are."

"Four weeks and six days."

Crocker stared.

"Five weeks? Damn, Cap... I didn't realize." He released a heavy sigh and refilled both of their glasses. "You... uh... you've talked to her though. Right?"

"She said she'd call me."

Crocker had to strain to make out Bridger's words.

"She hasn't?"

Nathan held his glass up and stared at the amber liquid within it. Slowly he shook his head.

"Have you ever thought about calling her?" Crocker asked.

"Every day." Bridger gulped his drink and set the glass back on the table, the noise unseemingly loud.

"But you haven't."

He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because she was right."

"Cap--"

"And nothing's changed." He poured again, emptying the bottle.

From behind the bar Calvin Shelley watched intently. Almost before Nathan could set the empty bottle down he was standing next to the table, a fresh flask in his hands. As he placed it on the table between them he again met Manilow Crocker's gaze, giving an encouraging motion with his head as he glanced at Nathan. Finally understanding Shelley's strange behavior, Crocker gave an almost imperceptible nod, then turned his attention back to Bridger as they were left once more alone.

"You've been keeping this all bottled up inside... haven't you?" he observed, breaking open the fresh supply of whiskey.

"It's nobody else's business."

"Maybe not... but talking helps."

Bridger quirked an eyebrow.

"That high falutin' company you work for now sending you to psychology school too?" He decided he was beginning to feel pretty darn good... better than he'd felt in quite a while. Warm on the inside, feeling little if anything on the outside... and with a faint buzz going round and round in his head that seemed to be trying to send him off to dream land. It'd been a while since he'd had more than a couple drinks... an extremely long while. Not that he was averse to the pastime. He just wasn't one for spending half the night in the bathroom with a throbbing headache, feeling like his guts were about to spill out of his throat at any second. Leaning back in his chair, Nathan watched in fascination as Crocker allowed the honeyed liquid to trickle into into his glass. Then he reached for it, pulling it forward until it balanced near the edge of the table. It wasn't until Crocker had downed his own drink that Bridger picked up his glass and quickly emptied it. He felt nothing as it went down, his throat numb from what had gone before. But it felt good as it settled in his stomach.

Crocker poured again.

This time Nathan didn't touch his drink. He merely leaned his forearms on the table top, positioned his closed fists one on top of the other, and rested his chin atop them. Then he stared at the man opposite him.

"She's so easy to make love to," he murmured, his eyes gazing earnestly into those of his friend.

Crocker choked on his drink, coughing until tears came to his eyes.

"You don't believe me?" Nathan frowned.

"Uh... sure, Cap. I believe you." Crocker sighed and wiped his face with his sleeve. It was bright red, either from the exertion of coughing or from embarrassment, and he suddenly felt hot all over. "I'm just not sure it's something I need to hear about, you know? I mean... what goes on between a man and a woman in the privacy of their own... ummmm..." He scratched his head.

"Bed?" Nathan supplied innocently, devouring his drink in one swallow and pushing his empty glass across the table as Crocker reached for the bottle.

"Uh... yeah," the other man muttered in obvious relief. "It's their own business."

"I wasn't planning to go into detail."

"Oh."

Nathan almost smiled at the veiled disappointment in Crocker's voice. For all the man's seeming reluctance to hear the intimate details of his former Captain's relationship with Kristin Westphalen, it was apparent he was not totally put off by the idea.

"I've never known anyone quite like her."

"She's... unique... all right," Crocker muttered.

Bridger pillowed his head on his arms and stared out over the wide expanse of tables, chairs and booths which populated the pub.

"I miss her," he sighed.

"So... why don't you do something about it?"

"I guess..." Nathan straightened and flexed his shoulders, then sank back in his chair, "...I'm scared to."

"Uh huh." Crocker tipped back his head and downed his drink, catching a sidelong glance from Bridger. "Scared how?"

"Scared... that she might not miss me," Nathan murmured.

"You mean... scared that the reason she hasn't called is that she doesn't want you anymore," Crocker shot back. The sudden glare in Nathan Bridger's dark gaze told him he'd struck a nerve.

"Maybe ya oughta just face facts, Cap," he needled, figuring Bridger needed something to snap him out of the blue funk he'd obviously fallen into. "You've known all along how anti-military she is... so what in God's good graces ever put the idea into your head that she'd go for a guy who represents everything she's spent her life fighting against?"

Bridger said nothing verbally. The stony set of his face and the muscle working in his jaw said it all for him. A feeling of uneasiness settled over Manilow Crocker as he gazed across the table. His only hope was that Bridger realized the alcohol was an overwhelming contributor to the way his mouth was suddenly running away with itself... and taking his brain in tow. As was the friendship they'd shared for so many years. Somebody had to knock some sense into his head... for better or worse... and make him come to terms with his feelings for the woman and their effect on his future.

"I like the lady, Cap... but I have absolutely no earthly idea how you can put up with her twenty-four hours a day." He sigh-ed and shook his head, his expression dumbfounded. "She's got to be the most opinionated person on the face of the earth. I've seen her argue with you about things that weren't worth the words to describe 'em. She'd rather die than admit she was ever wrong about anything..." Crocker leaned forward and stared hard at Bridger. "To put it mildly, Cap... more often than not she's a royal pain in the--"

"I think you've said enough," Nathan softly interrupted, his tone deceptively mild. Realizing he'd already gone further than he should have, Crocker decided to let the chips... and more than likely himself... fall where they may.

"Is she really worth the trouble, Cap?"

The expression in Bridger's eyes would have sent a lesser man scurrying for cover. Crocker, for his part, merely flinched inwardly and held the steel blue gaze of the man sitting across from him.

Nathan didn't say a word. His face remained impassive. But his eyes were almost black with anger. They sat like that for a while ...neither one knew how long. Then the wrath in Nathan's eyes slowly began to dissolve... and one corner of his mouth tipped upward. He swallowed and averted his gaze, staring blankly at nothing for a few moments before he finally spoke.

"Yeah... she is."

"Then don't you think you should do something about it?" Crocker questioned softly. Reaching for the almost empty bottle, he kept his eyes on Bridger's face as he poured the remaining whiskey into their glasses.

"Yeah... I guess I should."

Bridger watched as Manilow Crocker downed his whiskey in one gulp. He looked at his own drink... then with a smile on his face pushed it across the table to his friend, rising to his feet as he did so.

"Have one on me, Chief."

"Gee, Cap... you're swell," Crocker muttered sarcastically, a grin splitting his cheeks. "Tell the Doc I said hi."

With a nod to Crocker and a salute to Shelley, who stood behind the bar drying a glass with a towel, Nathan was out the door and heading toward his car. As his fingers touched the door handle the vehicle automatically unlocked itself to allow him to get in. As he opened the door he paused, head tilted to one side, and listened. His eyes narrowed as he raised them, searching the dark sky toward the western horizon. Frowning, he listened intently, straining for the sound that had caught his attention. Finally, hearing nothing and mentally chiding himself for being a fool, he got into the car and drove away.

"How'd it go?"

"Smooth as silk... those damn choppers don't make a sound. We'll be on top of 'em before they know what's happening."

A deep chuckle split the velvety stillness of the night.

"Good... let's get out of here then."

Two black-clad figures moved as shadows away from the shoreline, their booted feet digging into the sand as it gave beneath the weight of their bodies. They moved swiftly first through tall seaside grass and then a small forested area before reaching the highway and the vehicles they'd parked out of sight of prying eyes.

As they paused to catch their breath one man snaked his hand out to grasp the other man's forearm. Moonlight glinted dully off the gold watch on his wrist and gave his shadowed face an expression of saturnine evil.

"Make sure your men take it easy tonight... I want everyone fresh and ready to go. Drinking and carousing half the night away won't make their job any easier . . . and alcohol tends to loosen lips. Keep them in line. Got it?"

The other man nodded briefly.

"They know the routine... there won't be any problems."

"Good." A finger jabbed into the man's chest. "Because if there are... it's your head I'll come looking for next..."

Nathan rested his chin on the steering wheel and stared at the front of the house... the bright light of the full moon emphasising the blackened windows. He glanced at his watch. It was almost three in the morning... of course she wasn't awake. Probably off in dream land, where he and everyone else in their right mind ought to be. As he reached out to touch the ignition his hand stilled. In the sudden complete darkness caused by clouds obscuring the night's natural lighting a dull glow became apparent behind one of the windows on the far side of the upper level. A thin slat of light was just visible from between pulled curtains. Without giving himself further reason for delaying the inevitable, Nathan pushed the car door open and found himself on Kristin's front porch. He automatically reached for the keys in his pocket, then pulled his hand back as if scalded. Instead... he touched his finger to the doorbell... something he hadn't found the necessity to do in months. It felt funny to be ringing the doorbell of a house that was as familiar to him as his own.

"Damn..." Kristin muttered. Sticking her pencil between her teeth she quickly flipped through the book in front of her, shaking her head in exasperation. Retrieving the pencil she jotted down a few quick notes, then turned back to the computer screen. A few taps on the keyboard and she finally located what she was after. She began reading, brow furrowed in concentration, so absorbed in her work that the almost jumped out of her chair as the doorbell sounded. The frown deepened as she listened for the sound to repeat itself... which it did. Grabbing her robe from the chair where she'd thrown it once she decided she might as well get some work done... since she obviously wasn't going to get any sleep... she stepped to the window, pulled the curtain aside, and cautiously looked out and down. Her gaze narrowed slightly as it landed on the automobile sitting out front... then her eyes widened as she recognized it.

Following a moment's brief hesitation Kristin hurried into the hallway and down the stairs. Pausing at the front door she did all she could to pull herself together... brushing her hair back and straightening her nightshirt in the process. Glancing at the robe she still held in her hand, she made a face, then slipped it on. The deep blue silk contrasted with the sharp white of her pajamas. Neglecting to tie the sash, she deliberately slid back the locks on the door and opened it a crack, no more than an inch, then slanted her gaze toward Nathan. Meeting his eyes she opened the door wider and unlocked the glass outer door, watching as he pulled one hand from his pocket to reach for the handle. He opened the door slowly and thrust his shoulder into the crack, then returned his hand to his pocket.

"Hi."

Kristin shoved her own hands into the deep pockets of her robe and stared at Nathan.

"Hi," she echoed.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

One eyebrow rose.

"At three in the morning? Not much chance of that."

"What are you doing up?"

Kristin shrugged.

"Catching up on a little work," she murmured. "How about you?"

Nathan shrugged and declined to answer, wishing she'd invite him in. Absently pulling at his ear, he glanced over her shoulder into the interior of the house, then dropped his gaze back to her face as she stepped aside.

"Since you're here... you might as well stay a while," she offered diffidently.

Without giving her a chance to change her mind, Nathan stepped quickly into the house and followed her into the living room. He smiled faintly as she quickly pushed books and magazines off the sofa and onto the floor to provide a seat for him before she turned to face him. His eyes flickered over her face.

"You look tired."

Kristin smiled ruefully and lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"You look half out of it yourself," she returned.

His smile matched hers.

"Crocker came by and decided I should buy him a drink."

"Ah..." Kristin drawled, her British accent adding new meaning to the word. "Or two or three perhaps?"

"Something like that," Bridger admitted.

"Mmmmm..." she continued, her tone plainly indicating that she knew something about Manilow Crocker's drinking habits. "I'll make some coffee..." she offered, then glanced back over her shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen, "...unless you don't..." Her voice trailed off into a question.

"No... I mean yes... that'd be fine."

Ten minutes later she reentered the room carrying two steaming mugs of coffee... to find Nathan apparently fast asleep on the couch. Carefully setting the mugs down, she knelt next to him, her sable gaze intent on his face. Smiling faintly, she trailed her fingers along his jaw and chin, then allowed them to pause against his lips. His breath was warm on her skin. She sighed. She'd missed him intensely during the past month... and now that he was here in front of her she wanted nothing more than the feel of his arms around her... the touch of his body against hers. Unfortunately, she had a feeling he was in no shape to do more than sleep. She lay a hand on his chest and prodded gently.

"Nathan..."

"Mmmmm..."

"Come on... you need to get some sleep."

He rubbed a hand over his face as he sat up.

"What about the coffee?" he mumbled.

"It can wait until morning. Come on..." She wrapped an arm around his waist and slowly led him up the stairs, switching the lights off along the way. Once inside her bedroom she helped him undress and get into bed, then slipped in beside him, pulling the bedclothes over both of them as the dark silence of the room enveloped them.

"You didn't call."

Kristin opened her eyes and turned her head toward Nathan. He was laying on his stomach, his face turned toward her, dark eyes glimmering in the shaft of moonlight which had eased its way past the lace curtains. She rolled onto her side, her cheek resting on his forearm, her hand warm against his bare back.

"I know," she whispered.

Nathan's eyes began to close drowsily and his next words came out garbled.

"...mean you don't love me 'nymore..."

"No..." Kristin murmured, wrapping her arm around Nathan's waist and shifting so that he was forced to turn onto his side to face her. Pillowing her head in the curve of his shoulder she relaxed into his arms. "I'll always love you..."

"Sure..."

"Positive."

"No matter what..."

"No matter what."

Nathan sighed, his breath gently stirring the soft hair at her temple.

"...love you..." he mumbled, drifting into sleep.

Kristin smiled wryly as she brushed his hair away from his forehead and allowed her arm to curve around his neck.

"So why do you have to be half zonked to say so..." she whispered, kissing his chin as she closed her eyes and curled into his embrace. Within moments she joined him in sleep.

Bill Noyce nodded to his aide as he stepped past him into his office. With a weary sigh he tossed his briefcase onto his desk and grabbed a quick cup of dark coffee from the dispenser situated in one corner of the room. Two more months, he told himself... two more months in this godforsaken job and I'm home free. Back to the real world. Better than that... I can finally retire and leave all of this behind me. A smile finally worked its way onto his face and he stepped to the vid-phone. The touch of a button connected him with his house. A few moments later the dark haired visage of his wife appeared on the screen.

"Janet... what say we put on the nosebags tonight... do the town a little bit?"

Janet's eyebrows rose.

"Well... what happened between here and the office to put you in such a good mood?" she smiled.

"Just the sudden realization that time's closing in."

"Getting itchy feet, Bill?"

"You could say that. Be ready at seven... we'll make a night of it."

After severing the connection with his wife, Noyce stepped back into the ante-room and headed for the exit into the corridor. As he reached the door he paused and glanced back over his shoulder.

"Lieutenant..." He waited until the young aide glanced up. "I may be a few minutes late for my four o'clock meeting. Inform the others when they arrive and make refreshments available. And please be certain you remind Captain Bridger that the printouts he wanted to make available to everyone are on my desk."

With a nod at the young officer Noyce disappeared through the doorway.

A Remote Island
900 Miles SSW of Hawaii

Westerly winds rippled waves into ten foot whitecaps as a whipcord lean man of approximate middle age walked slowly along the beach. The island was private... and remote... willed to him by an old maid aunt who'd taken him under her wing and raised him following the deaths of his parents. He'd been ten years old at the time... and totally unable to understand the how's and why's of two innocent people having their lives taken from them at the whim of a total stranger. A car bomb they'd told him... a few sticks of dynamite wired to the ignition switch of a Volkswagen Rabbit... had terminated their lives as they'd walked along a festival street in Madrid forty years before. They hadn't been the intended target, but that hadn't mattered to the man who'd done the deed. He'd stood at a corner a block away and watched. Witnesses had seen him park the car... had seen him walk away from it and saunter slowly up the street... had seen him turn around no more than ten seconds before the blast to watch what happened. Then he'd disappeared.

A heinous crime had been committed. No justice had been done.

But from the ashes of death a new life had come. For the small boy who'd lost his world to the caprices of human nature had made a vow that very day. A vow to see that justice was served... quickly and without mercy... to the planners of destruction, to the murderers of the innocent, to the high and mighty defenders of causes who cared so little for their own lives that killing came naturally.

Some called him vigilante... others called him savior. No one knew his true identity... and few cared. Until it was their turn to die. But he wasn't without ethics. They were all given a chance to defend themselves. To face judge, jury... and finally executioner. For no one had yet escaped his style of justice... and no one would... until he was no longer around to serve it.

"Mr. Smith..."

Hand shielding his eyes, the breeze tearing at his salt and pepper hair, the man turned to face the individual who'd hailed him.

"Status?"

"Everything's on schedule."

"Good." Smith... not his real name... glanced first at the gold watch which adorned his wrist then toward the northern horizon. "Are the men ready?"

"They're manning the choppers now."

Smith nodded.

"Let's put this thing into motion then."

As the other man turned away... a man of about forty years of age, clothed in black, his face camouflaged in shades of black and grey... Smith grabbed the collar of his shirt and jerked him around.

"You know who I want."

"Yeah... I know."

"Alive... got that?"

"Sure boss... wouldn't want to interfere with your fun."

Smith stared at him for a moment... then slowly chuckled and tapped the man's cheek with the palm of his hand.

"Keep that attitude, Monty... and you just might get somewhere in this old world."

The chuckle continued as the two men moved along the beach toward the outcropping of rocks and trees which hid what had been the source of their discussion...

Nathan woke slowly, his senses gradually absorbing his surroundings even before he opened his eyes. The cool pillow beneath his cheek... the pungent aroma of strong coffee... the sweet fragrance of bath soap and perfume. He reached out with one arm, expecting and hoping to encounter the soft flesh which the latter clung to, but came up empty. Turning onto his back... and groaning at the sudden throbbing ache that shot from one side of his head to the other... he slid his eyes open. He was alone in the room, but subdued sounds from the bathroom indicated that Kristin was nearby. He rolled his head in that direction to find the door standing open and Kristin in the final stages of dressing. With a sigh Nathan allowed his eyes to close while he listened to the comforting sounds of her presence.

"Nathan?"

"Mmmmm..."

A light touch on his shoulder prodded him back to consciousness.

"You awake?"

He pried his eyes open. Kristin stood beside the bed, dressed in faded jeans and a white t-shirt bearing the symbol of the UEO. In her hand she held a coffee mug, which she placed on the night stand next to him.

"I have to go to work," she murmured in a low voice, smiling as he winced in reaction to even such a mild sound. He carefully rubbed a hand over his eyes before letting his gaze stray to her compact form.

"Dressed like that?"

"I'll be down in the labs all day..." she whispered, carefully sitting down on the bed next to him, "...might as well be comfortable."

"Guess I have to go..."

"You don't have to go," Kristin denied. "Not if you don't need to. Is there any place you have to be today?"

Nathan frowned and gave that one some thought.

"Not until four," he eventually mumbled. "I have a meeting at four."

"Well you have all the time in the world then," Kristin concluded. "You can just lay here and get some sleep. I brought you coffee... and there's more downstairs."

"You're so good to me," Nathan muttered. "Too good."

Kristin smiled and gently touched her fingers to his face, allowing them to trail along his jaw and lightly touch his lips before brushing them through his hair. Nathan reached up and grasped her hand as she lowered it back to her side. There was a question in her eyes as she looked at him, but he merely smiled, something she was forced to return simply because she couldn't help herself. Giving his hand a quick squeeze, she stood up, and was almost through the door when he spoke.

"Kris..."

"Hmmmm?" She stopped in the doorway and looked back at him.

"D'you think..."

"What?" she murmured as he paused.

"D'you think maybe..." he shrugged hesitantly against his pillow, "...we could go somewhere tonight? Get something to eat... talk for a while?"

Kristin stood for a moment, visibly considering her answer. Finally she nodded.

"How long will your meeting last?"

"Few hours..."

She nodded again.

"Why don't I come by your office and wait for you?"

"Meeting's at Noyce's... you could come there if you want."

Kristin made a face.

"Thanks... but no thanks."

Nathan smiled.

"I'll tell him you said hi."

With a very unladylike snort Kristin disappeared, the sound of Nathan's soft laughter accompanying her down the stairs... followed by a soft groan.

"Oh, great... isn't this just fine and dandy!" Benjamin Krieg, former United States Navy Lieutenant and once upon a time Supply and Acquisitions Officer aboard the UEO flagship seaQuest, flung his clipboard down and heaved an exaggerated... and exasperated... sigh. "You're talking about serving the biggest big shots on the surface of this planet... and you're actually considering serving instant coffee? Instant coffee?" He shook his head in apparent astonishment. "People... the stuff is pure drek. Has been ever since it was invented back in the good old days... before the beginnings of time. And most of it's probably that old."

"It's just not in our budget--"

"Not in your budget..." Ben nodded sagely, feathered eyebrows rising high on his forehead as he surveyed the two young UEO officers seated across from him. "No such thing, gentlemen... take my word for it."

"I don't get it," the second young man said.

Ben leaned foreward conspiratorially, glanced from side to side as though to make sure no one else was around and listening, then began talking.

"I can get you what you want... whenever you want it... below cost. The best stuff there is. And it's not just coffee I'm talking about." A smile curled his lips. "I'm talking steak... and not the prefab everybody and their dog's used to eating. I'm talking the real thing... shipped fresh overnight."

"I'm not sure..." the first man began, straightening and looking at his partner.

"Hey... trust me. I didn't get this high up in the restaurant supply business in three months by sitting around twiddling my thumbs. I know people... and it's all legal."

Both men raised their eyebrows.

"Well... mostly legal," Krieg admitted, then smiled slyly. "And think about it... you'll have those people eating out of your hands... literally. Talk about networking..."

Ben's deep blue eyes darted between the two victims... er. .. men... as he awaited their decision. Finally the more senior of the two nodded.

"Okay..." he looked at his partner for reassurance and recieved a dubious shrug, "...we'll give you a shot, Krieg. But

..." he held up his index finger and wagged it in Ben's face, "...no funny stuff."

Ben's hands went up in mock surrender.

"Hey, guys... if you can't trust me... who can you trust?" Smiling, he reclaimed his clipboard. "So... let's just get this order processed... and I guarantee that within the week the quality of the food served in the UEO dining hall will be on everybody's lips... in more ways than one."

Five minutes later, his work done, Krieg stood and shook hands with his two new customers.

"Thanks, guys... you won't regret this," he murmured encouragingly. "Now... if you could just point me in the direction of Captain Bridger's office I'll be forever in your debt."

Once again, as if on cue, both men raised their eyebrows.

"You know Captain Bridger?" the first once asked.

"Hey, I want to tell you..." he intertwined his index and middle fingers, "...we're just like this. You know?"

"Uh huh..." the second man muttered. "Fifth floor... top level. But you won't be able to just walk in. You'll have to call up first..."

"Will do. Thanks guys."

With a cocky salute Krieg was gone.

Smith tore his gaze away from the whitecaps which churned beneath the relative safety of his helicopter, glancing at his watch in the process. Two o'clock. Now halfway to their destination, the group of four stealth choppers collectively veered to a more north-easterly direction. Keeping well below radar reconnaissance, traveling at speeds in excess of two hundred and fifty miles per hour, ebony blades broadcasting the noise equivalent of a bumblebee, they were the ultimate flying machine. The birds would get him and his men where they were going... take care of any resistance that might be encountered along the way... and get them all back home again in one piece once business was taken care of. Smith smiled grimly and adjusted the small headset he wore, catching the sideways glance of Aiden Montgomery as he did so. Together more than twenty years, he knew absolutely everything there was to know about Montgomery. Knew him inside out, back and forth and upside-down. Montgomery, on the other hand, knew little more about Smith than his name... or rather his assumed name.

"What do you think, Monty?"

"I think..." the pilot said, returning his gaze to his instruments, "...that this is gonna be one hell of a head-banger."

"You could be right," Smith murmured.

"I could be? You know damn well I am."

"Scared?"

"Yeah... you bet I am," Montgomery returned, a wide grin splitting his face. "This is gonna be like nothing we've ever done before. Blowing into that place in broad daylight..."

"It'll work just fine... believe me. I know these people... I've been dealing with their kind my entire life. Expect the unexpected they always say... but they're the last ones to hold to their own rules. They'll be as unprepared as a turkey on Thanksgiving day..."

Smith's deep chuckle filled the cockpit of the craft as it sped soundlessly toward its destination...

With a disgusted sigh Kristin Westphalen dropped her pen to the table top and rubbed her eyes. Burying her face in her hands she sat for a moment, her thoughts far away from the microbes swimming on the glass slide of the microscope. After several long minutes she raised her head to gaze absently at the scene beyond the windows of the second floor lab area. Normally ensconsed in her fourth floor office on days like this, she was usually happy to get away and spend a few hours burying herself in the research she had always felt more comfortable with. Lately, more and more of her time seemed to be spent there, as she found it becoming increasingly difficult to sit still for the nine to five office routine. Of course the situation with her personal life wasn't helping things any either. More often than not she found herself thinking about Nathan when she shouldn't be... in the middle of meetings, during lectures and... well, times such as the present.

And then there was...

Kristin shook her head to banish her next thought. One that had kept her awake one two many nights during the past few weeks.

"Don't even think about it..." she murmured to herself.

Finally allowing her eyes to focus, she found herself staring at the huge structure directly opposite which housed the headquarters of the United Earth/Oceans Organization. Though regarded as a section of the complex as a whole, the research facility in which her office and the UEO labs were located branched off into a sepaate wing so that it almost seemed to exist on its own. It was connected to the main ediface by an underground tram system somewhat reminiscent of seaQuest's Mag-Lev... and the only way an individual could get from one building to the other was via that linkage. The entire complex was under the strictest of security regimens due to the classified nature of what went on behind its walls... so even boarding the tram to go from one area to another required contingencies such as metal detectors and scanners, not to mention presentation of badges and papers to establish identity, even by those who daily went from one part of the complex to another. Fifteen stories high, UEO Headquarters stuck out like a sore thumb almost at the waters edge of Pearl Harbor. And today... somewhere within those fortified walls... she knew Nathan had just entered into a meeting with Bill Noyce and God knows who else to discuss...

Kristin sighed. To discuss what always seemed to be on his mind and on the collective mind of the UEO. seaQuest... or rather the new seaQuest... the ship which would replace the one destroyed so ignomineously all those months ago. Her thoughts went back to those final days aboard the old ship... and what had followed once their lives had gotten back to normal. Her relationship with Nathan had occurred so naturally. They'd become so much more to each other over the past months than either one could have imagined... especially when one looked back on their inauspicious beginnings a year and a half earlier. And now ... Kristin shook her head. She wasn't sure of anything any more... beyond the fact that she loved him. And that he loved her. That she knew... even though it seemed so difficult for him to say the words. Perhaps that was part of their problem. The words were there... between them... but locked behind that wall Nathan always seemed to surround himself with.

"It's too soon..." Kristin whispered. "It won't work this way, Nathan..."

With quick resolve she reached for the vid-phone... her hand hovering above it momentarily before she finally tapped out the number that would connect her with Nathan's office in the building beyond.

Nathan stared at the note in his hand, eyes expressionless as he read it for a second time, then a third. His dark gaze shifted to the young lieutenant standing nervously before him.

"When exactly did she call?"

"I'm not really sure, sir... your messages were rerouted from your office as you requested." He glanced at the wall clock. "I received it approximately forty-five minutes ago... so the original call probably came in just after the meeting began. You should be able to check the initial transmission file--"

"Yes... thank you, Lieutenant... I think I know the routine," Bridger muttered, absently stuffing the memo into his shirt pocket as he turned back toward the meeting room. Absently dismissing the others present... either wandering in search of coffee or leafing through the information they'd been processing over the past hour... he pulled the table-top comm-link toward himself and entered his security code. Once the link was established he dialed up his personal management system and checked his messages. Seven had been received... but the name attached to the last one was what captured his attention. Not caring to have his personal e-mail made public knowledge he opted for the wireless earphone attached to the side of the device... then waited impatiently for the message to be translated. Finally Kristin's image appeared on the screen. She seemed nervous, glancing away from the screen for a moment before finally speaking.

"Ummm... Nathan..." she began, seeming almost to be staring right into his eyes while at the same time rubbing absently at some invisible spot on the table at which she sat, "...I've been doing some thinking... and I've come to the conclusion that... ummm..." Her eyes dropped to the table top. "I don't think dinner tonight is a good idea."

Nathan waited for Kristin to continue. When she didn't immediately do so he leaned forward, as though he could urge the words from her lips. Finally she glanced back at the screen.

"I know we have to talk... you were right about that. But there are still some things I need to..." Her voice trailed off. "Things I need to work out," she finally concluded. "I wasn't trying to ignore you when I didn't call... I want you to know that. I've thought about it every day." Kristin gave a self-deprecating smile. "I've really... missed you," she whispered. "Having you home last night was... well..." she shrugged one shoulder in an almost embarrassed gesture, "...it was the nicest thing that's happened to me in a long while."

Kristin was silent for a few moments... causing some brief doubt in Nathan's mind as to whether she planned to continue. Then she spoke.

"Nathan... I will call you... I promise. And please try not to be too mad at me." A smile flitted across her face then was gone. "I love you," she whispered... then the screen went to black as the message ended.

Nathan stared at the blank screen for some minutes, his mind replaying everything Kristin had said, word for word. I've missed you... having you home... I love you. He sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his eyes, then almost jumped out of his skin as he felt a touch on his shoulder. He looked up into Bill Noyce's blue gaze.

"...Nathan?"

"Ummm... yeah? What? I'm sorry..."

"You okay?" Noyce muttered, placing two paper cups filled with steaming coffee on the table before sitting down next to Nathan.

"Yeah... fine," Nathan returned, switching off the comm-link and replacing the earphone.

"Bad news?" Bill inquired, eyeing the small device as he took a sip of coffee.

"No more than usual."

Bridger leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes wearily. He said nothing further to elaborate on his short answer to Noyce, figuring the other man would get the message and leave him alone. Unfortunately, Bill Noyce had a habit of sinking his teeth into a subject and not allowing it to drop until he'd squeezed as much mileage out of it as he could. Nathan watched from the corner of his eye as Noyce followed his lead and tilted back in his chair, his curious gaze locked on Bridger's profile, a little smile playing about the corners of his mouth as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee.

"I hear you and Crocker made quite a night of it last night."

Nathan raised an eyebrow... at the same time catching the interested look coming across the table at him from Scott Keller's smiling hazel eyes.

"Word certainly gets around."

Noyce's smile grew.

"Janet and I stopped by Shelley's around twelve... you know how he likes to talk."

"I'll have to have a word with him."

"Won't do any good," Bill chuckled, his sharp gaze studying Nathan. "I called you when I got home. Four or five times...
but didn't get an answer... not even from your machine. Tried again this morning... with the same results."

"Well shame on me for not answering to your beck and call."

"Guess you weren't home, huh?" Noyce continued.

"Been holdin' out on me again, Nathan?" Keller jibed, the frown Nathan sent across to him bouncing right off. "Had a drinkingparty and didn't invite me... then spent the night out somewhere doing heaven knows what... not even letting me in on it."

"Why don't you two mind your own business?" Nathan muttered.

"Because..." Noyce never finished his response, his voice trailing off as a shadow loomed large against the window... followed by another... and another. An almost soundless hum seemed to accompany the fluttering movements.

"What the hell was that?" Thomas McGath interjected. The Secretary General-elect of the UEO pushed himself out of his chair and headed for the window... but nothing out of the ordinary caught his gaze... only cloudless sky and blue sea was visible.

Keller took a bite out of a donut he'd scraped up from somewhere and glanced over his shoulder in McGath's direction.

"Probably maneuvers... you know how the military likes to sneak up on people," he grinned, downing the remainder of his coffee and wiping crumbs off his hands.

Bill Noyce heaved a sigh and pulled his papers together, suddenly intent on getting the meeting moving and totally forgetting the brief repartee between himself and Nathan. Motioning McGath back to the conference table he became once again businesslike.

"Let's get these items settled so we can get out of here and go home," he suggested. "I don't know about any of you..." his blue gaze, once more containing a glimmer of a smile, rested on Bridger, "...but I've got things to do tonight. And my wife'll kill me if I'm not there to do them. So..." he shuffled a few pages of yellow legal paper, "...what do you think--"

A sudden explosion shattered the relative quiet, imploding the long security window which covered one entire wall and showering the room with missile-like shards of glass and metal. The four men hit the floor as an alarm began to sound throughout the complex... muted within the room... blaring shrilly on the salty breeze which gusted through the gaping window. Reacting purely on instinct Bridger flung himself toward the door, sliding through it as it automatically opened and stumbling into two uniformed security guards racing along the corridor from the opposite direction. He followed them into the large ante-room which was the center of the fifth floor of the top level of UEO headquarters, accepting an automatic pistol that one of the men thrust at him, realizing at the same instant that Scott Keller was quick on his heels. Heading for the elevator, they were halfway across the room when the stairwell door burst open, emitting a bevy of black-clad figures, their faces camouflaged with grease paint in shades of black and gray. As the two guards went down, barely knowing what hit them, Bridger got off three quick shots... then went down hard as he was tackled from the side. He heard the sound of fists meeting bone as his face hit the hard floor and knew that Keller had met the same fate. His arm was wrenched behind him and he felt a knee in his back. Turning his head sideways, Nathan tried to get a breath through the blood oozing from his nostrils, at the same time tasting the bitter liquid in his mouth as it flowed from a split lip. A pair of shiny black shoes met his gaze...

Chapter Two
'The Demons Within'
 

Bill Noyce glanced at Nathan Bridger, sprawled in a chair on the opposite side of the large conference table in the sixth floor meeting room they'd been led to following the terrorist takeover of UEO Headquarters. He wasn't exactly sure why they'd been moved to the uppermost floor of the building... other than the fact that it had its own private link to the helipads on the roof which presently housed the craft which had brought the intruders. Noyce wondered for the hundredth time how they'd managed to get four helicopters past what was supposed to be the most highly secured area in the world. Fronted in two directions by open water and nearly surrounded by the Pearl Harbor Naval Station, the UEO complex was considered perfectly safe from the type of action it had just incurred. Apparently whoever had made those assumptions was wrong. As was evidenced by what was going on this very minute within the main structure of the complex.

A movement from across the table caught Noyce's attention and his eyes shifted once more to Bridger, lingering on the other man as he touched the back of his hand to the trickle of blood which continued to ooze from the split in his lower lip. The nosebleed had stopped... though he figured in all probability it'd been broken again... but the front of Nathan's stark white uniform shirt was spattered in red. Bill's gaze moved to Scott Keller as he reappeared and handed a wet cloth to Bridger, who responded with a grunt as he held it to his mouth. Keller sat down next to him and leaned forward confidentially, glancing around before speaking to make sure no one was listening.

"Looks like the entire complex has been sealed off," Keller murmured, his gaze on Bill Noyce and Thomas McGath. "Security grids are up all around the perimeter... and its been cordoned off by the military." He glanced toward the two intruders stationed by the door then back to his companions. "It does look like they're allowing those on the lower floors to leave though."

Noyce heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair.

"Who the hell are these people?" McGath whispered.

Bridger lowered the bloodied cloth from his mouth, shaking his head as he tossed it into the trash, his eyes never leaving the activity apparant in the next room. He'd counted fourteen men, all camouflaged and dressed in black, and toting the latest in automatic weaponry. That didn't include the obvious leader of the group and his apparant right hand man. But according to what they'd overheard earlier, upon being transported to the upper floor, the levels immediately below were being quickly evacuated by other members of the group... and one of the men had been heard telling his superior that four choppers and all personnel were accounted for. Figuring their craft were as state-of-the-art as their weapons, Nathan figured they were looking at a total force of forty-eight to fifty-two men... again not including the top man and his aide. Not very large when considering an invasion force, but with their obvious training more than enough to cause their fair share of trouble before all was said and done.

"The question isn't who they are..." he eventually muttered, "...it's what do they want..."

The man who called himself Smith gazed at the image on the vid-screen, grey eyes narrowed against the glare of the monitor as he scrutinized the lined face of the officer who stared back at him. A man named Humboldt... head of security at Pearl Harbor Naval Station and an individual suddenly thrust into the center of a situation the possible outcome of which he didn't even care to contemplate.

"I don't give a tinker's damn what you think..." Smith hissed smoothly, "...I'm telling you what I want. And unless you want me to start tossing bodies from the windows... I'd suggest you start paying attention and put some effort into getting it done."

Humboldt held up a staying hand and nodded.

"Okay... okay. We'll do it your way. The last thing we want is to have anyone hurt." He ran a hand through peppered blond hair as he grabbed a pad of newsprint. "Tell me again exactly what you want."

"I want immediate open access to all media... and I want a representative of said media to be allowed to enter this facility to manage that access and to offer first-hand coverage of... shall we say... a late breaking story." Smith smiled. "I'm sure you won't find that too hard to manage. Knowing the current state of the industry... you'll undoubtedly be overrun with volunteers."

"You've made your point. What else?"

"I want immediate computer access to all NORPAC Confederation military files pertinent to the period previous to the UN collapse in 2011."

Humboldt raised an eyebrow and leaned back.

"I'm not sure that will be possible."

"Make it possible."

Smith said nothing further... but his earlier threat was evident in his gaze. Humboldt met him stare for stare and failed to respond, merely jotting down a notation before returning his gaze to the screen.

"Will that be all?"

"No," Smith returned, a smile creasing his eyes. "Next time we talk... try to be a bit more courteous. It won't hurt you to put out a little... hmmm?" He chuckled and severed the connection. After a few moments of thoughtful silence Smith got to his feet and turned his attention to Aiden Montgomery.

"Talk to me, Monty."

"The entire complex has been secured and the majority of the personnel evacuated. Those who are left have been confined to the floor directly below. Everything in between is clear... with our men stationed on the ground floor and on the roof."

"The other facilities? The research wing... the security compound?"

"There's only one way to move between the main complex and the outlying facilities... an underground tram system. We've shut it down completely."

"Good," Smith nodded, then motioned the other man toward the open stairwell door. "Let's pay a visit to our friends downstairs."

Thomas McGath shifted restlessly in his seat and darted quick glances at his three companions. William Noyce, whom he'd known for more years than he cared to remember, sat ramrod straight in his chair, forearms resting on the table and hands loosely clasped. He appeared to be deep in thought... though his gaze constantly shifted to various points and people in the room. Scott Keller, a man he hadn't met before today but whom he'd admired from afar due to his exploits in the space program, leaned back in his chair with his head against the backrest. He was staring absently out the window. Nathan Bridger, the area around his right eye beginning to darken to complement his other injuries, sat back in his chair, his hands loosely gripping the armrests, his expressionless gaze on the far wall. McGath sighed and turned his gaze to the two guards who remained stationed in the doorway... and wondered whether the lengthy silence of his companions boded good or bad.

Scott Keller abuptly spoke without moving his gaze from the window.

"You know... that really wasn't a very smart move."

McGath frowned his puzzlement at Keller's soft words. Noyce showed no reaction whatsoever. Bridger shifted his gaze and slowly focused on Keller.

"Simple reaction to a situation. Sometimes I just can't help myself."

"Yeah. Well one of these days you're gonna help yourself right into your grave if you keep it up," Scott reprimanded, though his gaze softened somewhat as he finally looked at Nathan. "How's the head?"

"Seen better days. How 'bout you?"

Keller carefully felt his chin.

"I'll live. 'Course... I don't have a hangover to go along with it."

Leaning his head against the back of his chair, Bridger closed his eyes and released a soft sigh.

"I don't have a hangover."

"If you say so. Nathan..." Scott began, then paused momentarily to carefully consider his next words.

Nathan opened one eye a crack and stared at him, a 'leave me alone and mind your own business' expression clearly evident in the deep blue of his gaze, as though he knew what was coming. He opened the other eye and was on the verge of saying something when McGath interrupted.

"How the hell can you two sit there... talking about your personal problems... when we're sitting in the middle of what may turn out to be a major international crisis?" he ground in a low voice. "We need to do something."

"And just what would you suggest we do?" Keller asked.

"I don't know. You're the people with the military training. Surely you can think of something."

"We did..." Bridger muttered, without looking at the other man, "...and we're doing it. So why don't you just--"

"Nathan!" Bill Noyce interrupted. "Just drop it... okay?" He looked at McGath, then at the two guards, then brought his gaze back to touch on the other three men. "Whether we like it or not... all we can do right now is wait."

Smith slowly inspected the small group of individuals who had been kept behind as the building had been evacuated. There were approximately twenty-five of them, both men and women, situated in the top level fifth floor meeting room which had originally been occupied by Noyce, McGath, Bridger and Keller. The blown out windows admitted a ragged ocean breeze which carried the promise of impending storms... while at the same time whipping through the hair and clothing of those assembled. They all appeared extremely uncomfortable, both from the odd effect of their buffeting by the elements inside such an immense structure, and by the behavior of Smith. Stopping before each individual, he inspected them almost clinically, then started the process all over again.

"You..." he said, pausing briefly in front of a spare grey-haired man and touching his shoulder. "You..." he nodded as he passed a thirty-something clutching her purse to her chest. Continuing down the line he alternately chose or dismissed those sitting on the dozen chairs in the room or leaning against the wall. "And you..." he finally muttered, raising his eyebrows at the fourteenth person he chose, a lanky dark-haired man with cynical blue eyes.

Ben Krieg's feathered eyebrows leaped high on his forehaed as he stared at the man in front of him, his mouth half open, an expression of astonishment on his face.

"Me? What do you mean... me?"

Smith rocked foreward on his feet and gave Krieg a hard stare.

"I mean... you." He jerked his head toward the rest of the group he'd chosen, now huddled near the doorway, surrounded by four guards. Ben continued to gape at the man, seemingly unable to get his feet to move. With an exasperated sigh Aiden Montgomery grabbed him by the shirt collar and shoved him to join the others before motioning for the guards to lead them away. Krieg glanced over his shoulder at Smith as they were herded toward the stairwell, his steps lagging as he considered his situation, then was abruptly pushed through the door by the business end of a machine gun. He sighed wearily.

"Mama said there'd be days like this..." he muttered, half to himself. "There'd be days like this my mama said..."

"Well... what do you think?"

Rex Humboldt pulled his eyes away from the suddenly blank vid-screen to look at the man sitting next to him, out of sight of the monitor. He'd grown up with Manilow Crocker, had romped with him as a kid through the brushland of western Oklahoma, and had as a dare enlisted in the Navy with him right out of high school. He'd always thought himself damn lucky to have the man as a friend... and his thinking hadn't changed during the four hours that had passed since the takeover of UEO Headquarters. Crocker had wandered by his office, purely on the off-chance that he'd be available, thus placing him right in the middle of events as they'd happened.

Crocker shook his head slowly, eyes grim as he pushed himself to his feet and stepped to the window, his bright gaze pinpointing the stark structure of the UEO facility in the distance.

"I don't know..." he sighed, finally turning around to face his old friend, "...I just don't know."

His eyes dropped to the vid-phone and his blue gaze narrowed as he stared at it ruminatively. He'd attempted to reach Nathan Bridger aboard the seaQuest almost immediately following the action at the complex but had been informed by Tim O'Neill that he hadn't been in all day and that he wasn't expected before the rest of the crew and engineers called it quits at six that evening. The young officer had made noises about some meeting or other that Bridger had mentioned he had to attend that afternoon, but on further questioning admitted he knew nothing more than that. Crocker had a sinking feeling he knew where that meeting had probably taken place... and it made him sick to his stomach. He'd hesitated to try to contact Bridger elsewhere... half afraid that he wouldn't locate him and that his suspicions would be brought to fruition. Finally deciding he couldn't put it off any longer, Crocker stepped to the phone and punched in the number that would connect him with Bridger's residence. Just as he feared he received no answer, merely a prompt to leave a message when the call failed to connect. He didn't. Instead he severed the link, pulling a small black book out of his breast pocket as he did so. After flipping through a few pages he quickly dialed another number. A slow frown formed between his eyes as he got the same result.

"Damn..." Crocker muttered, disconnecting. His feet took him back to the window, where he stood with his arms folded across his wide chest and stared absently into the distance. Abruptly he turned back to Humboldt. "We need to get closer to the situation... there's not a damn thing we can do from here."

"My thoughts exactly," Humboldt agreed. He got up and strode toward the large view screen which occupied the wall opposite his desk. Following close scrutiny of the layout of the UEO complex which appeared there, he tapped two fingers on the largest of the outlying facilities. "As far as we can determine... the research facility hasn't been occupied by the terrorists. On the other hand... they haven't allowed the occupants to evacuate either."

"Which means they might still have plans in that direction."

"Possibly," Humboldt admitted, "but right now its our best chance. It shouldn't be too much of a problem getting in... we just won't know what's waiting for us until we get there..."

Nathan Bridger straightened in his chair, ending a rather prolonged study of the dots in the suspended ceiling above him, his mind brought back to the present by the sounds of activity from the next room. Through the open doorway he watched as a group of civilians was herded into the ante-room by half a dozen armed guards. They were prodded into chairs and onto the floor and all was quiet for a moment except for the soft rumble of one voice. He couldn't quite catch what was being said, but whatever it was ended abruptly as the leader of the band of intruders entered the meeting room, followed by his closest cohort and a couple of guards to replace those who'd been stationed at the doorway.

Smith stopped at the head of the long conference table, a cynical smile curving his lips, though his stormy grey eyes remained hard. His gaze rested on each of the four men in turn...narrowing on Bill Noyce and dismissing McGath as unimportant, an obvious fact which caused the man's face to redden alarmingly, before inspecting Scott Keller with some amount of respect. Keller merely raised and eyebrow and returned the stare silently. Lastly Smith settled his appraising gaze on Bridger, who returned it with an expressionless one of his own. Neither man backed down. Smith's smile widened, containing some degree of real amusement this time, before he spoke.

"Captain Bridger... I presume."

Nathan didn't blink.

Neither did Smith.

"That was a very... foolish... thing you did earlier. I suppose you realize you could have been killed... opening fire on my men as you did."

Bridger's chair groaned as he leaned back and shrugged.

"I wasn't."

"No, Captain... you weren't. I made certain of that."

"Very... kind... of you," Nathan murmured conversationally.

"Not really. You see..." Smith linked his hands behind his back and took a few steps to one side before returning his attention to Bridger, "...my plans have been too carefully laid to allow an... accident... of that nature to interfere with them."

"Your plans?" Noyce intoned.

"Mmmmm... yes... my plans." Smith wandered toward the window and stood for a few moments, his gaze resting on the ocean beyond before grazing the rest of the facility, all the while apparently totally unafraid of the fact that weapons might be trained on the window from several different directions.

"What do you want?" Bridger finally murmured.

Smith turned slowly around, his grey gaze shifting to lock on Bridger's blue.

"What do I want?" he repeated... and took a step closer. And smiled. And allowed the silence to lengthen almost unbearably before he spoke again. "Why... it's not what I want, my dear Captain..." he murmured, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his smile widened, "...it's who."

"Who?" Tom McGath asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as he twisted in his chair and glanced at the others.

Smith didn't answer for a moment, merely smiled as he allowed his gaze to rest on them one by one... finally returning to meet Bridger's dark expression once again. The smile faded... and he silently inclined his head toward Nathan.

"Why... the great Captain Nathan Bridger... of course," he drawled, his voice an almost insulting whisper as his gaze held Nathan's. Nathan's chair groaned once again as he shifted slightly, but beyond that he made no response. Not so Bill Noyce, who stood up abruptly and leaned toward Smith, his hands braced palm down on the table.

"Nathan... why? What the hell for?"

Smith, his eyes never breaking from Nathan's, adopted the same posture as Noyce. After a few moments of intense silence his gaze slid slowly to the other man. He stared into Noyce's eyes... his expression hard and forbidding... almost mesmerizing. The silence lengthened until it was almost unbearable before he finally spoke, his voice hushed.

"Murder..."

Kristin Westphalen stared out into the waning light of day, her eyes scanning the huge courtyard which constituted the central area of the UEO Headquarters complex. The area was bordered on one side by the main building which accommodated the offices of UEO personnel, along with whatever else was necessary to run an organization of such magnitude. The research facility in which she stood... and which contained the facilities of the Department of Biological Oceanography over which she had somehow ended up with direct control... was set at an angle to the north of the larger structure. She'd had qualms about taking the position when it had been offered to her following the destruction of the original seaQuest... had thought about it long and hard... and still sometimes wondered whether the fact that it would keep her close to Nathan had been the major force behind her acceptance. Deep down she knew that wasn't the case... she thoroughly enjoyed her job and the opportunites it involved outside the structured existence she'd lived at her previous university position. But she made no effort to dispute the fact... at least to her own conscience... that her relationship with Bridger had dissuaded her from accepting a half dozen other opportunities which had been offered at the same time as the one with the UEO... opportunities which would have been considered by most people in the know as a step up from her current position. Both professionally and monetarilly. And at the moment... considering the circumstances... she briefly wondered if she might not have been better off accepting one of them.

Deep brown eyes strayed to the roof of the building across the courtyard. From the window of her fourth floor office she could just make out the dark shapes of two sleek black helicoptors, the final rays of the slowly setting sun casting a red aura around them as they sat as silent sentinels to whatever was happening inside. Dropping her gaze, Kristin frowned at the shattered windows which lined the length of the fifth floor of the top level of the building. The brain trust of what was perhaps the most powerful and influential organization in the world occupied that level. The office of Secretary General William Noyce resided on the western end of the floor... she knew that although she'd never visited it. Long ago she'd decided she wasn't one of Bill Noyce's favorite people... probably something to do with what he considered her 'attitude'. Lips tipped uncontrollably upward as she remembered something Nathan had mentioned to her once regarding Noyce's opinion of science types in general and herself in particular... then they trembled slightly and the smile faded as her gaze lit on the other end of the fifth floor. An area she was on more familiar terms with... having visited Nathan's temporary office there on innumerable occassions during the past months. He was over there... she knew that beyond the shadow of a doubt. That was where his meeting had been... it wouldn't have been over before the assault had occurred. The terrorists... for want of a better word... had apparently allowed the greater majority of those who'd been present in the building to leave almost immediately following the attack. That had been obvious from the streams of people who'd flowed from the front entrance. The south parking lot was empty except for a few stray vehicles so there couldn't be many left inside. She hadn't bothered trying to pick Bridger's automobile out among those there, knowing he parked in the underground garage located along the west side of the building. The parking lot situated west and south of the research facility, on the other hand, was still teaming with cars. Though none of the invaders had entered the area, all exits and entrances had been automatically shut down, either by them or by the internal security system. Kristin hoped fervently it was the latter. Whatever the case, no one had left the facility since it had been secured more than four hours previously.

Kristin sighed, wrapping her arms about herself as she turned away from the window, telling herself not to worry. Nathan could take care of himself. He'd been doing it as long as she'd known him... through some pretty sticky situations... and had obviously done so for quite a long time before she'd even met him. Throughout his career in the military... much of which had occupied that tenuous time before the collapse of the United Nations when the newly forming confederations had been in such turmoil, striking out at each other for the smallest of reasons. ..and after he'd resigned following the death of his son in combat. Then on his island... suddenly alone after the death of his wife. Nathan Bridger was a survivor... he'd be all right.

Or would he? Her thoughts strayed to early that morning... when he'd appeared on her doorstep after they hadn't laid eyes on each other for over a month. She knew it had been rough on him. As it had been on her. Hell, there'd been times when she'd yearned to just toss in the towel and call him. Never mind the consequences. He'd let down his defenses, coming to her like that.

And it had been nice... so nice... to have him in the same bed with her again. To have his arms around her... to feel the heavy beat of his heart beneath her cheek. And to have him next to her when she woke up later that morning. That in itself had been worth the month apart... almost.

Kristin wandered distractedly around the office before coming to a stop in the open doorway. She glanced around the small foyer and through the doors of a couple of the other rooms surrounding the area. A few people loitered around, not doing much else than looking at each other or out the windows. Walking across the foyer Kristin touched the elevator button, not for the first time, yet hoping for a different outcome than before. She didn't get one. The doors remained stubbornly shut. With a grimace she turned away and allowed her glance to fall on the stairwell door. She pondered. She stepped forward and placed her palm against the door and pushed. And someone pulled from the other side...

Nathan Bridger leaned back in his chair, his gaze following Smith as the other man slowly paced from the doorway to the window and back again, making no attempt to follow up on his strange accusation. Murder. Bridger frowned. The man was crazy... he'd never killed anyone in his life. Not that he hadn't thought about it a few times... perhaps even come close. His thoughts jumped back in time to the incident with Ruben Zellar aboard seaQuest. That was probably the closest he'd ever come to actually wanting to kill someone... to physically snuff out a life. If he'd been able at the time... he would have cheerfully wrung the man's neck with his bare hands. Unfortunately Kristin had held the upper hand on that occasion... along with the weapon... and getting her safely out of the madman's way had been his major priority. But that was as far as he'd ever gone... whether for good or bad he just wasn't made that way.

Smith turned away from the doorway, hands linked behind his back as he walked slowly toward the table and stopped across from Nathan. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Nothing to say? You surprise me, Captain."

Bridger levelled his gaze on Smith, his expression unchanging.

"What do you expect me to say?"

Smith's mouth tipped up at one corner and his thoughts turned inward for a moment as he considered Bridger's question. He took a step to the side, then pivoted around to meet Nathan's stare.

"I suppose I'm not really certain," he murmured. "Perhaps a protestation of innocence would be in order. After all... that's what usually happens when a man is accused of such a heinous crime... wouldn't you agree?"

"Since I have no idea what you're talking about..." Nathan returned mildly, "...that would be a bit... superfluous."

"I see," Smith smiled. "Well, Captain... I can assure you that all that will change very shortly. Within the next hour you..." he glanced through the open doorway at something that was taking place in the next room, "...along with everyone else within sight or sound of a vid-screen... will know exactly what I'm talking about..." Smith turned and walked deliberately away, then paused in the doorway and glanced back at Nathan, "...and will know exactly what kind of man their venerated hero actually is..."

Kristin fell back nervously as the door was pulled open... then heaved a deep sigh of relief as Manilow Crocker pushed through the door followed by two other men clothed in the uniforms of naval security. A smile lit her eyes as she met Crocker's gaze... then died a quick death as a half dozen commandos shoved through behind the three men. Dressed in black, their identities hidden by the black and grey camouflage which painted their faces, they aimed automatic weapons at the small group which greeted them.

"Everybody just stay calm..." one of the men intoned, holding his weapon away from his body and aiming it at an angle toward the ceiling, "...nobody'll get hurt that way." He made a quick motion to his companions and they fanned out, quickly searching the entire floor and herding those present into a small group in the foyer. The leader let his eyes fall on each of the dozen or so individuals in turn before motioning toward the elevator with his rifle. "You can all go... quietly and orderly. You'll be escorted downstairs and through the side exit. Please don't be foolish. Do exactly as my men tell you... and you'll be out of here in less than five minutes."

As the group was prodded silently into the elevator Crocker's gaze met Westphalen's and he gestured with his eyes toward the open elevator door. Taking her cue rather hesitantly she moved to follow the others... but was brought to an abrupt halt as the business end of a rifle blocked her path. She looked up to meet the cool brown gaze of Aiden Montgomery.

"Not you." He signaled for her to join Crocker and the two military types still standing by the stairwell door. "Mr. Smith wants to see you."

Kristin raised confused eyes.

"Mr. Smith..."

Montgomery's bland gaze flicked over her. He appeared almost amused yet his voice was quite serious when he spoke again.

"There've been..." he hesitated briefly, "...injuries. Mr. Smith requested that I locate a doctor..." he wiggled an eyebrow, "...and it looks like you're it."

Kristin's gaze flashed to Crocker's as they were quickly herded through the door and down the stairwell. She got nothing more than a brusque shrug in answer, but felt Crocker's comforting hand against her back throughout the long walk along the echoing corridors of the suddenly empty research facility and on the short trip via underground tram to the building which housed UEO headquarters.

Smith, alone in one of the smaller offices on the sixth floor, two guards stationed strategically just outside the door, carefully emptied the two canvas bags which had been retrieved from his helicopter. A stack of portfolios built up quickly along one side of the desk he was using. Pausing in his actions, he flipped through the pages of one of the sleek documents, eyes picking out a word here and there. Then with a satisfied smile he tossed it back onto the pile and continued with his task. Soon the desk was strewn with a myriad of items... a stack of computer disks which rivaled the stack of folders he'd already laid out, a smaller stack of video disks, half a dozen note pads and two oversize books, each of which was at least three inches thick. Upon completing his work Smith stood for a moment, eyes narrowed and thoughtful, before swinging the monitor of the vid-screen toward him and punching in a code. As he waited for a response he lowered himself into the chair, then leaned back nonchalantly as the screen came to life. Humboldt's image appeared on the monitor, appearing a little ill at ease. Smith smiled.

"That was stupid, Humboldt."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the other man demurred.
"You've got your access to the records... and you're media person will be arriving at the main gate shortly. What--"

Smith leaned forward and curtly interrupted.

"I'm very much aware of those facts, Mr. Humboldt. I'm also aware that you're sitting in the back of an unmarked van no more than twenty yards beyond the northern perimiter of this complex. I'm also aware that three of your men entered the research facility approximately thirty minutes ago." A grin twisted Smith's lips at the stricken expression Humboldt couldn't keep from his face. "Don't worry... they'll be well treated. They may even be allowed to leave in one piece when this whole... situation... has met it eventual conclusion." His cool stare grazed the other man's face for a few seconds... then he abruptly straightened in his chair and leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, his chin propped on steepled hands. "When you send the media representative in... be certain you send an interpretor with her."

Humboldt frowned.

"An interpretor? Why--"

"Don't ask questions... just do it!" Smith hissed, obviously losing patience with the man. "I'm expecting... visitors," he then murmured. "Some of those visitors will require the services of an interpretor... so find one. And be very certain..." he leaned even closer to the vid-screen, "...that when these people arrive... they're allowed into this compound with no questions asked... unharmed. If that doesn't happen... you can kiss the Secretary General of your precious UEO goodbye..."

Kristin quickly examined the two security guards who'd been wounded during the initial takeover of UEO headquarters. They remained on the fifth floor of the top level, along with approximately a dozen other individuals. A steady breeze gusted through the shattered windows of the conference room, blowing stray curls into Kristin's eyes as she tried to concentrate. Finishing with the second man she gingerly pushed herself to her feet and glanced at her captors.

"They'll be fine..." Her gaze strayed to a body which lay against one wall, covered with a curtain pulled from one of the windows. The fingers of one hand were all that were visible of whoever lay beneath the heavy drape. "Who's that?" she murmured, not really sure she wanted an answer.

"Just another victim to add to the list," Aiden Montgomery replied cryptically. He watched as Kristin's gaze strayed back to the body, then motioned with his rifle toward the still figure.

"Go ahead..."

Kristin knelt and grasped one corner of the drape, gently lifting it until the victim's face was exposed. A face marked with grey and black grease paint. She expelled a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. Lifting the cover further she found that the man's black shirt had been pulled open to reveal a blood caked white t-shirt. Quickly dropping the drape back into place she stood, her deep brown gaze resting speculatively on the man standing a few feet behind her.

"These people need to be transferred--"

"They stay. No one further leaves this compound until our mission is completed." Running his fingers through his over-long brown hair he nodded to the two commandos who'd accompanied him into the room. "Take her upstairs."

Ben Krieg glanced up as the stairwell door was thrust open, his blue eyes widening as Kristin Westphalen was ushered into the room by two commandos, followed by Smith's right-hand man. She met his eyes briefly in startled recognition before turning her attention to her captor as he spoke.

"This is Dr. Westphalen. She's here to treat anyone who might have an injury..." Montgomery allowed his voice to trail off in a questioning tone. A lanky grey-haired man seated two chairs away from Krieg lifted his left arm, revealing a bloodied white handkerchief knotted around his wrist and palm. Kristin knelt in front of the man and untied the bandage, gently probing a deep cut which slanted across the meaty portion of the man's thumb where it joined his wrist. She frowned slightly, glancing to one side to catch her captor's gaze as she applied ointment to the cut.

"I'm afraid you're one up on me..." she murmured, continuing as the man raised one dark eyebrow, "...you apparently know my name... but I don't know yours."

"It's Montgomery..." Kristin abruptly paused in her action of applying clean bandaging to her patient's injury as a new voice... not that of the man next to her... answered her question, "...Aiden Montgomery."

Kristin's brow crinkled as she carefully completed her task. Her gaze dropped to a pair of shiny black combat boots which came into view just beyond the corner of her eye as she knelt on the floor. Slowly raising her eyes she followed the length of the man's body... her dark gaze encompassing black fatigue-like pants and a loose-fitting black shirt pulled over a white t-shirt. A strong neck browned by the sun... a scholarly face, tanned and lined by outdoor living... topped by windblown greying hair... and smiling grey eyes...

Kristin's eyes widened as her frown was replaced by a look of pure astonishment.

"Patrick..." she breathed.

Ben Krieg watched with his own strange brand of astonishment as the enigmatic Mr. Smith... er, Patrick... gently grasped Kristin's hand and pulled her to her feet. He also noticed the way Smith's eyes perused her once she stood in front of him... and vice versa. Craning his head to one side he stared into Kristin's face... noting the fascination in her brown gaze as she returned the man's perusal... and the sudden slight trembling of her lips just before she flung her arms around his shoulders in a convulsive hug.

"Oy..." Krieg muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes as if he could erase what he was seeing. He opened them again... but the vision hadn't disappeared. He watched as Smith gently pushed Westphalen away, a genuine smile curving his lips as he looked at the woman standing before him.

"It's been a long time," he murmured.

"Yes..." Kristin acknowledged, running distracted fingers through shoulder-length auburn hair, "...it has." She stood for a moment, simply staring at Smith, before apparently remembering where she was... and why she was there. The glow in her eyes faded as her glance darted from Smith to the others in the room... pausing briefly to meet Krieg's dubious stare along the way. Seeing the sudden flare of accusation in Ben's eyes she glanced away, stepping back from Smith as she did so.

"I... what are you doing here?" she whispered uncertainly.

Smith averted his eyes, his narrow gaze going to the half-open door of the conference room. After a moment of thoughtful silence he looked once more at Kristin.

"I suppose you could say... I'm taking care of business."

"Business?" Kristin frowned. "I don't understand. What kind of business... involves..." She shrugged her shoulders helplessly and awaited some sort of explanation.

Smith stared at her for a moment, grey eyes expressionless.

"The business of... justice." One side of his mouth tipped ruefully at her bewildered expression. He reached out to touch a gentle finger to her cheek. "No one was meant to get hurt... please believe me. Sometimes it's just... unavoidable."

Kristin stared into the man's grey eyes for a long moment, then pulled her gaze away and reached for her med-kit.

"Is there anyone else?" she asked, her voice trembling as she slowly released her breath.

Smith exchanged a meditative glance with Montgomery before answering.

"Uh... yes," he eventually acknowledged, his gaze straying to the conference room door before returning to Kristin. "There's one other... gentlemen. I'm afraid he met with a slight..." Smith's lips tipped upward again, this time sans any affectation of humor, "...accident."

Nathan Bridger's chair groaned softly as he shifted slightly, a frown forming between his eyes as his gaze went to the half open door. Shuffling movements in the other room caught his attention briefly, but it was the soft murmur of voices... of one voice in particular... which had him staring intently across the room. It couldn't be... no. It was impossible. She was at home... safe and sound. Or at least she should be. She would have been gone long before this whole mess had begun, especially considering the message she'd left him earlier. A grim smile touched Nathan's lips. She certainly wouldn't have been in this building. The research facility maybe... but not here. She was safe... somewhere... anywhere but here. Please God... anywhere but here...

A shadow passed along the crack in the door and he saw her. Russet hair threw sparks in the glow from the overhead lighting as a trim figure in jeans and t-shirt paused momentarily outside the door. She was speaking with someone. He could hear her voice much more clearly this time, could hear the inflection of a question as she spoke, but not the words themselves. A man's voice answered her question. Smith's voice. Nathan frowned, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he tore his gaze away, finding himself suddenly staring into the curious hazel eyes of Scott Keller. He broke eye contact, forcing himself to relax into his chair as he turned his gaze to the window. He took a deep breath and released it, dark eyes on the twinkling multi-colored lights visible against the night sky just beyond the window. Resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, he wearily rubbed a hand across his chin and jaw, then grimaced in sudden pain. Pulling his hand away, Nathan looked down to find his fingers streaked with bright red blood. He absently wondered how he'd managed to reopen the gash in his lip... at the same time watching Kristin's trim figure mirrored in the window as she stepped into the room... followed closely by Smith.

Smith's eyes followed Kristin as she stepped further into the room. She absently noted the conditions of Noyce and McGath... both shook their heads at her questioning glance. Keller met her eyes for a brief moment, grimacing at her soft inquiry into his well-being as she took in his blackened eye.

"I'm all right... thanks," he murmured quietly, turning his gaze to Smith as Kristin eased past. Dropping her med-kit onto the table, Kristin stood next to Nathan for a moment, eyeing his bloody shirt with worried eyes. She darted a quick glance at Smith, then sank into the chair next to Bridger, sitting on the edge and leaning forward as she gazed at his averted face.

"Nathan?" Her voice was no more than a whisper.

For a few moments she got no reaction, then he sighed and turned his face to hers, his eyes expressionless.

"What are you doing here?"

She opened her mouth to say something... glanced over her shoulder at Smith... then with a shrug turned away and reached for the med-kit. When she faced him again his gaze was focused on the opposite wall. He barely moved as she examined the damage to his face.

"What happened?" Kristin murmured.

Nathan's eyes flickered momentarily before his gaze slid to Smith, who leaned nonchalantly against the doorjamb.

"Had an argument with the floor," he mumbled.

Kristin frowned in concentration as she applied salve to his lipto close the cut. Nathan, on the other hand, continued to look at Smith, who was looking right back in his direction. Only Nathan noticed the man's attention was not focused on him... but on the woman next to him. And in his eyes was an expression that seemed totally at odds with the current situation... an expression that caused Nathan's gaze to narrow. For he recognized it. As well he should he decided... his thoughts suddenly confused. It was the very same expression he saw reflected back to him from Kristin's eyes every time he looked into them... an expression of pure unadulterated adoration. As Nathan continued to stare, Smith's gaze moved slowly from Kristin to meet his own. He watched as sudden amusement replaced the... tenderness... in the other man's eyes. As Smith folded his arms across his chest and made himself more comfortable against the wall. As a mocking smile gently tipped his lips...

"...Nathan?"

"Mmmm..." He pulled his gaze away from Smith... from the smirk on his lips... to stare at Kristin. She frowned and glanced in the direction he'd been staring, toward the doorway. After a beat Nathan followed her gaze. There was no one there.

"Nathan... what's going on?"

He shook his head, his gaze still on the empty doorway.

"I don't know."

Kristin frowned again... her eyes leaving Nathan to touch lightly on the other men. When nothing more was forthcoming she turned back to Bridger. About to speak, she was interrupted by a sound from across the room. Aiden Montgomery stood in the doorway.

"Doctor... if you're finished?" He motioned with his head toward the next room.

"I..." She met Nathan's gaze briefly before quickly standing and grabbing her med-kit. "Of course." Her hand rested lightly on Nathan's shoulder as she stepped around him and followed Montgomery from the room... never looking back.

No more than thirty seconds later two armed guards entered the room... escorting perhaps a dozen people in and seating them at two rows of chairs which were quickly moved into place. Two more guards followed. Behind them came Smith. He tossed a couple portfolios on the table before moving to stand at its head, hands linked behind his back as he looked from the group of people slowly making themselves comfortable... to the four men still seated at the table... his gaze finally resting on Nathan. Finally, once quiet had settled upon the room, he stepped toward the small group.

"One... two... three..." he began, pointing at each person in turn as he counted, finally reaching twelve. As he did he turned back around, his gaze settling once more on Nathan. "Captain Bridger..." Smith murmured, raising one hand to slowly encompass the dozen individuals he had indicated, his eyes never leaving Nathan's, "...meet a jury of your peers."

Nervous shuffling sounds came from the group as a dozen pairs of eyes looked at Smith... then at Bridger... then at each other. Smith stepped to the thirteenth person present and touched the woman's shoulder.

"Alternate..." he intoned, smiling into her eyes. "Just in case something... unfortunate..." his eyes slid over the rest of group, "...happens to one of the others." The smile remained on his face... but his grey eyes held the hint of a threat... causing further shuffling.

Nathan Bridger leaned back in his chair, his dark blue gaze never wavering from the tableau taking place in front of him. He watched as Smith stopped beside the last person who'd been brought in... a man he was well acquainted with. A man who wiped sweaty palms against his pants as he looked up at Smith.

"Mister..." Smith raised an eyebrow at the young man at the end of the first row.

"Krieg..."

"Mr. Krieg..." Smith murmured, pacing a few steps away then turning back, hands behind his back as he gazed down at Ben Krieg, "...would you agree that an individual accused of a crime... no matter how abhorrent that crime might be... should be duly accorded the benefit of counsel?"

"Yeah..." Ben nodded, "...sure--"

"Excellent. Consider yourself duly appointed."

"I... what?" Krieg half rose from his chair, falling back only when one of the guards took a step toward him. He stared at Smith with wide eyes.

"You..." Smith explained gently, "...will represent Captain Bridger at his trial."

Bridger raised one eyebrow and stared hard at Krieg. What the hell, his eyes said... why not just shoot me now and get it over with...

"His trial?" Bill Noyce hissed, leaning forward and glaring at Smith. "What the hell is this all about?"

Smith calmly pushed one of the two portfolios he'd laid on the table toward Noyce... the other toward Bridger.

"I believe this will explain everything."

Curious, Nathan pulled the portfolio toward himself and opened it. He scanned the first page... which appeared to list a series of charges draped in legalese... then turned to the second page. Two words jumped out at him... and his breathing almost stopped...

Chapter Three
'Dust in the Wind'
 

Tim O'Neill pulled off his glasses and wearily rubbed his eyes. He'd been rousted from a perfectly good sleep... something he'd needed following an eventful two day break spent roaming up and down the beaches of Hawaii with Jonathan Ford, Miguel Ortiz, William Shan and Lucas Wolenczak. Which in itself had been a well earned respite from Nathan Bridger's increasingly gruff attitude. The four of them had reached a conclusion during their time off... in between surfing and water skiing of course... that they really had to do something about the man before he drove them all crazy. Get him back with Westphalen. That's what it boiled down to. They hadn't quite come up with a plan, being otherwise occupied most of the time, but they knew what they had to do. And they'd do it... with a little help from some other people.

And now, here he was, hauled out of bed in the middle of the night by a couple of UEO security ruffians, stashed in an unmarked car and driven to the organization's headquarters. Too bright lights assailed his senses as he was led into the lobby of the building... where he joined a young dark-haired woman who'd apparently been impatiently waiting with another contingent of security guards for over an hour. The two of them were pushed into an elevator... alone. Tim sighed and put his glasses back on, getting a better look at the woman. His eyebrows rose and he pointed a finger at her.

"You're..."

The woman smiled, jostling a nylon bag from one shoulder to the other as she held out her right hand.

"Gabrielle Storm... Earthnet News Network."

"Yeah... her," O'Neill mumbled, shaking her hand. He stared at her, forgetting for a moment where he was.

"Ummmm... you mind?" the woman murmured, glancing from her hand to O'Neill.

"Oh..." he dropped her hand as if burned, "...sorry. I just...ummm." He pulled his gaze away and glanced at the light above the door of the elevator which was slowly counting down the floors. "You have any idea what this is all about?"

Gabrielle Storm looked him over critically, smiling at what she secretly considered his nerdish glasses and odd haircut. She shrugged.

"Not really. All anyone has really been told so far is that a group of terrorists has taken the upper level of this building and are holding hostages." She followed his gaze to the elevator light. "They haven't indicated their demands yet..." she smiled smugly, "...which is why I assume they want me."

O'Neill looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"To tell the world?"

"Something like that."

"I see."

"And... just why are you here?" Storm inquired, her curiosity aroused despite herself.

"Interpretor," O'Neill said shortly... for him anyway.

"Really?" the woman replied, almost... mockingly. "What language do you speak?"

O'Neill glanced at her as the elevator came to a stop at the fifth floor of the top level.

"Languages," he corrected. "I'm fluent in six... okay in about a dozen more. French, Libyan, Portuguese... Serbian. And English of course," he concluded mildly.

Tim watched the woman step off the elevator without saying a word. Ha! Struck her speechless... absolutely speechless, he silently mused. Pushing back his shoulders, and his glasses, he followed in her wake, only to be brought to a grinding halt by two black clad and camouflaged armed guards. The quick patting down he recieved came as no surprise to him, but he could tell by the sudden stiffness in the woman's stance that she didn't appreciate the familiarity with which she was searched. The sight brought a crooked smile to his lips which had his... hosts... looking at him with peculiar expressions in their eyes. But they said nothing. And he said nothing. He merely acceded to their wishes as they motioned him down a short hallway leading into a large foyer.

Eyes widening at the sight that met his eyes, Tim O'Neill allowed himself to be led to a seat on one side of the room. Nearby sat twelve to fifteen others, sipping coffee and snacking on sandwiches. Half a dozen more stood near the long window which looked out on the distant lights of Honolulu. They appeared to be a restless group... all men... wearing the trendiest in business suits. Their low murmurings weren't clear to him, but the accents and the few words he could make out indicated that at least three of them were foreigners. Perhaps... Spanish or Portuguese. The others appeared to be either American or British. With a sigh O'Neill leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, wondering what was going to happen next, and watching curiously as Gabrielle Storm was led through the foyer and into a small office. The door closed sharply behind her. Fifteen minutes later the vid-screen in one corner of the room came to life...

Kristin Westphalen sat at one end of a large sofa, her legs drawn up underneath her, and watched the man seated behind the desk across the room. He seemed engrossed in whatever he was doing, occassionaly glancing from the papers in front of him to the monitor of the vid-screen situated on one corner of the desk. Every once in a while his gaze rose to meet hers, but only briefly, as his attention went quickly back to his work. His face rarely changed expression... his eyes merely narrowing when something on the monitor caught his attention... a frown marring his forehead as he fell into deep thought over the notes he continually jotted down. Finally, feeling Kristin's riveting stare, Smith sighed and tossed his pen onto the desk. Slowly rubbing a hand over his eyes, he leaned back and returned her stare. After meeting her eyes briefly he allowed his gaze to drop as he studied her face and the lithe body encased in jeans and t-shirt. When his eyes returned to her face their grey depth held just a bit of a smile.

"How've you been?" Smith quietly asked.

Kristin dipped her head in acknowledgment.

"Fine."

The man's smile reached his lips.

"I do believe that's the first time I've ever heard you answer a question with one word," he murmured, a soft chuckle lurking behind his words.

Kristin said nothing, merely continued to stare at him, her curious gaze taking in the weathered face which she'd never thought to see again. Not after so many years. Smith read the question in her eyes.

"I umm..." he pursed his lips thougtfully, "...hadn't expected to see you. I... thought about contacting you while I was here..."

"But decided against it..." Kristin finished for him, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "I wonder why."

There was a long moment of silence as they were both lost in their own private thoughts. Finally Smith stirred.

"I... figured seeing each other again would just... bring back too many bad memories. I didn't want to hurt you again."

"You can't..." Kristin whispered, "...not anymore."

Smith's eyes searched hers.

"I wish that were true."

Rising from his chair he wandered to the window, hands in his pockets as he stared meditatively into the night. There had been a number of things he hadn't been aware of when he'd agreed to take on this... case... for want of a better word. He'd known who Nathan Bridger was. Few people didn't these days. At least those in the know. The man was a world class hero. To some even an icon. Environmentalist, scientist, military genius... all rolled into one. Defender of those who couldn't protect themselves. Smith had actually laughed out loud when they'd originally come to him with their accusations... calling them far-fetched and off the mark. But the evidence had been irrefutable, even to him. He'd researched the claims... questioned the witnesses... time and again. He couldn't afford to make a mistake. Not with this one. But it was all there... and he'd accepted the challenge. Not because he wanted to. Because he had to. If he wanted to live up to his ideals... if he wanted to be able to face his conscience... he had to. But there was one thing he hadn't bargained on. The woman sitting so quietly across the room.

"Do you love him?" Smith murmured, not taking his gaze from the inky view beyond the window.

"What?" He heard the confusion in her voice.

"Bridger. Do you love him?"

"What kind of question is that?"

Smith sighed.

"From what I understand you've been... together..." he turned from the window, "...for some time now."

"So?"

"You slept with him last night."

"I..." Kristin shook her head, her brow furrowed. "What does that have to do with anything? Other than being none of your damned business of course."

Smith walked to the desk and stood behind it, simply gazing at her, an odd expression in his eyes. He picked up his pen and rolled it between his fingers as he allowed the silence to lengthen. Then he spoke again.

"I just wondered... how it felt."

"What?" Kristin exhaled sharply, her patience obviously wearing thin.

"Sharing your bed with... a killer." His charcoal grey eyes softened somewhat as he noted the sudden tightness of Kristin's jaw and the way her fists clenched against her stomach. Yet he mercilessly continued. "Laying next to a man... sharing your body in the most intimate way imaginable... with a man who's nothing more than a cold-blooded murderer." Smith straightened and placed his hands on the desk top, palm downward, leaning forward as he studied the fleeting expressions on Kristin's face. "Of men. Of women... and children," he ended, his voice low and hard.

"You're insane," Kristin breathed, eyes wide with disbelief and shock.

He stared at her for a long moment, reading the painful emotions in her eyes which he had put there, then grabbed a portfolio from the desk and tossed it into her lap.

"Take a look," he muttered, moving toward the door. "Makes some interesting reading..."

Nathan Bridger hadn't bothered to read further than the damning second page of the report, merely tossing it aside as he watched his so-called jury being led from the room to allow for what Smith referred to as a consulting session between the accused and his appointed counsel. Now he sat back, hands worrying the leather arms of his chair as he stared out at the darkness beyond the window. Meanwhile Ben Krieg slowly perused the portfolio. Bill Noyce did likewise with the second copy Smith had left behind. He raised an eyebrow.

"I must say... the man has done his homework."

Krieg's head jerked up.

"What are you saying... that this crap is true?"

Noyce angled his gaze toward Bridger for a moment, taking in the tightness of his jaw and the way he seemed to be tuning the entire situation, along with their quiet conversation, out.

"No," he murmured, returning his gaze to the portfolio as he flipped through the last few pages. "I'm saying... it's a representation of what the truth might appear to be..." he tossed the report onto the table and leaned back, watching as Thomas McGath pulled it toward himself, his curiosity evidently getting the better of him, "...to someone on the outside looking in."

"Then it's all just a pack of lies."

"I didn't say that either," Noyce huffed.

Ben stared for a moment, trying to read something in the other man's eyes, before dropping his gaze back to the manuscript. He continued to read, unconsciously wincing at certain passages, turning one page after another until suddenly a photograph stared him in the face. A full page reproduction of... something he could have done without seeing. Ben swallowed and looked away... his eyes accidently meeting those of Nathan Bridger, who stared at him with a grim intensity.

"What's the matter, Krieg..." Bridger inquired in a voice so low it was almost a whisper, "...too graphic for even your laid back sensibilities?"

Krieg stared.

"This isn't..." he mumbled, his voice trailing off as he waited for Bridger to say something... anything... that would ease the tiny prick of doubt invading his conscience.

"It's exactly what it appears to be... nothing more... nothing less," his former captain murmured implacably.

"But--"

"There are no buts, Krieg. For better or for worse what you hold right there in your hands is the unmitigated account... complete and unabridged... of something that happened a long time ago. Something that should have been... that could have been... avoided..." Bill Noyce interrupted, his final words trailing into silence, "...but wasn't. One version of it anyway," he amended.

Bridger's gaze narrowed on Krieg.

"Why don't you do yourself a hell of a big favor, Ben... and just walk out of here," he murmured. "I doubt that our gracious...host... will think any the less of you."

Krieg, to his credit, returned Bridger's stare unblinkingly.

"Is it true?"

There was no change of expression in Nathan's ebony gaze.

"You explain to me what truth is..." he softly challenged, "...and I'll let you know."

The two men sat there... gazes locked... for what seemed an interminable length of time. Finally Ben Krieg broke eye contact... and let the portfolio fall shut as he got to his feet and walked slowly to the door. As his hand touched the knob he glanced back. McGath was immersed in Noyce's copy of the report, an expression of dawning horror creeping into his features. Noyce, for his part, merely sat in the same position he'd been in for seemingly endless hours, though his placid countenance undoubtedly hid a profound sense of worry. Krieg pulled his gaze away from Noyce, only to meet the hazel stare of Scott Keller... an odd mix of compassion and condemnation evident in the other man's eyes. Ben sighed and shook his head to clear his thoughts... then allowed his gaze to rest on Nathan Bridger's profile. He briefly wondered what was going on behind that expressionless facade as his former commanding officer stared unseeingly at the wall opposite him. Judging from what he'd just read... the photographs he'd quickly flipped through because he couldn't bare to look at them... it couldn't have been anything good. Dragging his gaze away from the tableau taking place around the conference table, Ben Krieg released a long sigh and quickly pulled the door open... and just as quickly pulled it shut behind him as he stepped into the foyer.

"And now... from ENN headquarters in New York... here's David Huntley..."

"Good evening..." The much-traveled anchor ran his fingers through dark hair, straightening an imagined stray here and there before swiveling slightly in his chair to face the camera directly. "For those of you who may have just joined us... ENN is covering a breaking story from Hawaii... where unnamed and unknown terrorists have taken over the headquarters of the United Earth/Oceans Organization in Pearl Harbor. Information regarding any demands the group might have has not been released as of this hour... though ENN is proud to note that one of the network's most versatile reporters has been summoned by the extremists to act as an intermediary of sorts as the situation wears on." The anchor raised his eyebrows and smiled grimly at the monitor. "We'll now go to Gabrielle Storm in Pearl Harbor... reporting from UEO Headquarters."

Jonathan Ford groaned out loud as the image of a dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties appeared on the wide-angle video screen located in one corner of his living room. Slouching low into the cushions of the sofa he stared curiously at the woman who'd become a celebrity of sorts since her coverage of two world-shattering events... events which oddly enough had the UEO at their center... the first being the arrest and indictment of then Secretary General Andrea Dre some six months previously... the second being the after-effects of the original seaQuest's single-handed efforts to right the results of Dr. Wolenczak's world power experiment. Miguel Ortiz shifted restlessly next to Ford, leaning forward with his chin resting on his palm as he too stared into the monitor. William Shan shuffled around in the kitchen, looking for something further to eat only minutes after finishing a quickly prepared dinner. At the window across the room stood Lucas Wolenczak, staring out into the darkness of the night, trying to make out the shadowed ediface of the UEO building a couple miles away.

"What is it with that woman?" Ortiz grumbled. "Every time you turn around... there she is... making a mountain out of some molehill that would have been better off left alone." He ran his fingers through curly black hair which was slowly beginning to appear more like a rock star's than a Navy enlisted man's. Jonathan Ford shook his head grimly.

"I don't know, Miguel... but I have a feeling that this one is a little bit more than a molehill."

Lucas turned away from the window, dirty blond eyebrows pulled low on his forehead.

"You think it's true... what they're saying?"

Ford stared at him through chocolate brown eyes, his dark brown faced exhibiting an expression which inevitably meant he was deeply troubled about something.

"You mean about the hostages?"

"Yeah..." Lucas muttered as he shrugged one shoulder. "Why would anyone want Captain Bridger... after all he's done..."

Jonathan shook his head as he returned his attention to the screen.

"I don't know, Lucas..."

"Good evening, David..." Gabrielle Storm sat at a desk backed by a soft grey wall and muted lighting. Shadows moved on the wall... fuzzy enlarged images which indicated that at least one other person was in the room with her, undoubtedly one of the terrorists wandering restlessly while supervising the woman's broadcast. Her blue gaze shifted slightly as she glanced at this unseen individual, a somewhat dubious yet at the same time exultant expression in her eyes. After a long moment she returned her gaze to the audience she knew would be staring at vid-screens worldwide, anxious for every tidbit of news, whether true or imagined, which fell from her lips. "I'm here at the headquarters of the United Earth/Oceans Organization in Pearl Harbor..." her gaze again shifted to one side and remained there for a few seconds as she continued, "...where I've been asked to read a statement prepared by the leader of the group which has taken over the UEO compound. I should as a precurser state that it has been stressed to me time and again that this is not a terrorist group... and the individuals involved with this takeover have absolutely no links with any such activity. No one has been identified by name to me... although I've been assured that within the next forty-eight hours further information along that line will be disseminated."

"Yeah..." William Shan murmured drily as he re-entered the room with a Coke in his hand, "...sure... they're just like all the rest no matter how hard they try to deny it," he muttered as he plopped down next to Ford. "They hide behind all the words... if not the hoods and masks... but they still want the credit for what they do... terrorist or not. They want people to know their names... and to fear what they're able to accomplish without benefit of prosecution."

Gabrielle Storm shuffled a few sheets of paper, straightening them with slow purpose, before staring down at the words she was to read. Taking a deep breath... forcing those watching to wonder whether she actually felt the tenseness of the situation or whether she was just a damn good actress... she stared into the camera.

"The statement I've been asked to read is as follows... and I quote..." Storm lowered her gaze to the papers now lying on the desktop. "The current situation is not to be construed as one of terrorism or politics... or prejudice of any kind. It should in fact be interpeted merely as an act of justice... a form of justice which should have been dispensed as the occassion warranted upon its occurrence... but which was sadly lacking. Lacking due in part to ignorance and to the inability on the part of many of those involved to acknowledge that the acts perpetrated could have actually taken place... but in greater part to deception, dishonesty and pretense by those guilty of said acts..."

Storm paused a moment as she laid the top sheet of paper to one side... then continued.

"Within the next few hours justice will commence. It will be meted out swiftly... and legitimately... through due process of law. The individual who stands accused here tonight will be judged not by those who have initiated this situation... but by a jury of his peers... and by the truth provided by the facts of history... a truly unimpeachable source.

"For it is history which records the undeniable evidence of a guilt upon which no blame was laid... which cries with two words whose very utterance brings with them the same passionate remorse and terror which has been associated over the centuries with such disgraces as have taken the lives of the innocent.

"Ponta Delgada... a name... a place... which will live in the same infamy as described so many years ago by a great man when describing a terrible destruction which occurred in this very harbor. It's in the history books... it's engraved in the minds and memories of the survivors... it's etched on the gravestones of those who died.

"Remember the name... remember the place... remember it well. For justice will be served... and a point will be proven. The point that no man... no individual... can or will escape accountability for the betrayal of trust... for the betrayal of his own conscience..."

Gabrielle Storm clasped her hands together on the desk top and stared into the monitor as she finished reading.

"Thank you Gabrielle..." anchorman David Huntley murmured as the screen divided in two. He stared out at his unseen audience. "That's Gabrielle Storm... reporting on a late breaking story from Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. We don't know all of the details..." he turned his attention abruptly back to the woman, "... Gabrielle... is there anything further you can give us at this point regarding the situation?"

"No, David... the brief message which I just read is all the information that is being released at this time. I have been informed though... that as soon as this apparent trial gets underway... more details will be forthcoming." Storm's eyes flickered away and back to the screen. "I'm afraid that's all I have at the moment, David..."

"Again... thank you Gabrielle." Storm's image disappeared as Huntley's filled the screen completely. "With nothing further to go on at this time... ENN will return to regular programming. We will of course break in as soon as more details become available..." He nodded solemnly as the network symbol took over the screen.

Jonathan Ford fingered the volume buttom of the remote control but left the vid-screen on. A thoughtful frown had formed between his eyes.

"Ponta Delgada..." Miguel Ortiz murmured, his expression matching Ford's. "Wasn't that..."

"Yeah..." Ford murmured.

"What?" Lucas asked, puzzlement evident in his tone as he glanced from one to the other. He pulled one hand from the pocket of his baggy cords and ran his fingers through over-long blond hair. He didn't particularly care for the answering look he received from Ford... a look of worry... and evasiveness.

"Ponta Delgada..." William Shan whispered almost reverently.

"What's Ponta Delgada?" Lucas repeated.

"It's..." Jonathan Ford drew a deep breath and released it slowly before continuing, "...something the United States Navy would rather not be reminded about."

"Why not?" Lucas frowned.

"Because..." Ortiz took up where Ford left off, "...it was a mistake."

"A mistake that cost a lot of innocent lives," William Shan elaborated.

"What does that have to do with Captain Bridger?"

Jonathan Ford shook his head slowly.

"I wish I knew, Lucas..." he murmured, sounding almost as confused as Wolenczak looked. "I wish I knew..."

Smith watched the retreating figures of Gabrielle Storm and two of his men as they escorted her from the room and down the corridor. His grey gaze rested on her thoughtfully as they seated her next to the young man who'd been brought in as an interpretor. He noted with amusement the manner in which she almost unconsciously preened in front of the others... and how... even in their desperate situation... they stared back at her as if transfixed. Shaking his head, the glimmerings of a wry smile curving his lips, Smith stepped further into the hallway, turning slightly to say something to Aiden Montgomery as the other man followed him out. As he did so his gaze rested on the door immediately across from him, half closed against the activity which had been taking place. With a nod to Montgomery he allowed him to slip past... then silently pushed the door fully open.

Kristin stood at the window at the other end of the room, her back to him as she stared out into the night. Smith stood for a moment, his hands in his pockets and a ruminative expression in his eyes as he gazed at her. She knew he was there. He could tell. It was evident in the slight tensing of her shoulders and the deep breath which she took and released. But she said nothing... nor did she turn around. Smith approached her, his soft footsteps eerily loud in the odd silence of the room. He stopped behind her, mere inches separating them, but got no further response. Finally he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Kristin..."

"Don't..." she muttered, shrugging his hand away.

Smith sighed.

"We need to talk--"

Kristin swung around... deep hurt apparent in her dark eyes...one hand brushing at the dampness on her cheeks.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded.

"I..." Momentarily dazed by the anger sparking from Kristin's liquid brown gaze, Smith struggled for words. He stared into features he knew so well... remembered so clearly from days long past. Slowly reaching out, afraid of her reaction to any sudden movement, he touched his fingers to her face, gently wiping at her tears. He sighed in relief when she didn't pull away... and then gave attention to gathering his wits back about himself.

"Why?" Kristin repeated, her voice a whisper.

"Because I have to."

"You have to?" she murmured querulously. "What kind of answer is that?"

"The only one I can give you," Smith sighed, watching her face... unsure of the expression in her eyes.

Kristin slowly shook her head.

"That's it?" she whispered. "You... appear out of nowhere... after all these years... and that's all you can say. You have to." A fierce intentness entered her gaze as she took a step closer. "You have to what, Patrick? Ruin people's lives? Or maybe it's not people... maybe it's me. Again."

The man she called Patrick shook his head in negation.

"No... please don't think that. When this whole situation began... months ago... I hadn't the slightest inkling you'd be involved in any way. I didn't even know..." he hesitated momentarily, "...I didn't even know where you were at the time. And as for ruining people's lives... that was none of my doing. Your... friend..." he emphasized the word, "...in there managed to do that quite well all by himself. Unfortunatelyhe didn't just ruin his... but took a lot of other people with him along the way."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Damn it, Kristin!" Suddenly losing the calm exterior he'd been carrying around with him, Smith grabbed Kristin's arm and swung her around toward the couch, grabbing the portfolio he'd left with her as he did so. She'd obviously read through it... then stuffed it lengthwise into the crack between the cushions of the sofa. He held it up in front of her face. "Didn't this tell you anything? Didn't you see what he did... this hero of heroes that everyone's so in love with? Is this an example of what you want to spend the rest of your life with?"

Kristin pulled her arm from his grasp, rubbing her bruised skin absently as she stared at him. He stared right back, slowly calming himself, letting the hand holding the report fall back to his side. After a moment he looked down at it... then tossed it onto the desk as though even holding it was unbearable. When he returned his gaze to Kristin's face it had gone from stormy black to milder grey. He stepped closer, his eyes holding hers for a moment, then abruptly bent his head to capture her lips with his own as one arm snaked around her waist. Kristin braced her forearms against his chest and attempted to push out of his grasp. Then one arm went around his neck as she suddenly leaned inward... her lips parting beneath his as she returned his caress with sudden intensity.

Ben Krieg paused just outside the door to which he'd been led by Aiden Montgomery. He swore he could feel the warm breath of the two guards who'd followed behind them... even though they now stood several feet away. Montgomery placed his hand on the door and pushed it a little further open than it already stood, motioning at the same time for Krieg to enter the room. Ben took one step forward before halting abruptly, blue eyes widening in amazement and something resembling shock as his gaze fell on the man known to him only as Smith... and the woman he was so thoroughly kissing. A woman Ben Krieg knew well... a woman who didn't seem to mind Smith's rather intimate behavior... a woman who in effect actually appeared to be enjoying it. Jaw hardening, Ben spun on his heel, throwing a look of such pure anger toward Aiden Montgomery that the other man just stood there, his gaze the only part of him that followed Krieg from the room. He watched as Ben stalked the short distance which took him back to the guards. Then... without glancing toward the two people across the room... Montgomery very emphatically cleared his throat. He waited a few moments before glancing back in their direction. And almost smiled. Smith now faced him, arms folded across his chest, an unfathomable expression in his grey eyes. The woman, almost totally obscured from Montgomery's view by Smith's body, stood with her back to them, apparently staring out the window. Now Montgomery did smile. It was becoming a real habit with people, he decided... turning their backs on him.

"What is it?" Smith rumbled, looking none to happy about the interruption.

"Mr. Krieg asked to see you..." Montgomery murmured, his gaze moving to Kristin as she turned her head slightly, listening to their conversation.

Smith raised an eyebrow.

"Well... where is he?"

"I believe he... changed his mind," his aide continued in a somewhat suggestive tone... which brought Kristin all the way around to stare at him. "He appeared quite..." Montgomery paused thoughtfully, staring at the ceiling as though the word he sought would drop from it, "... dismayed... to find that we'd... interrupted something."

Kristin took a step forward and started to say something, then apparently thought better of it. Instead she glanced from Smith to Montgomery... and waited. Smith jerked his head toward the door.

"Bring him in."

Montgomery complied. Seconds later Ben Krieg stood in the open doorway. His eyes... which normally sparkled with amusement and sly innuendo... were void of expression as he met Smith's gaze.

"I heard you wanted to see me, Mr. Krieg..."

"Yeah... well..." Ben's gaze finally rested on Kristin. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all."

Westphalen flinched visibly at what she saw in Krieg's eyes. She'd never, in all the time she'd known him, seen anything remotely resembling the emotions reflected there. Anger... disappointment... hurt. Disillusionment. Just for once... she wished for a glimpse of that degenerative humor she usually found in the young man's gaze. Her own gaze fell as he continued to stare at her.

Smith's gaze narrowed as he glanced from Krieg to Westphalen. He frowned.

"What exactly was it you wanted?"

Ben's lips twisted slightly... in what one who didn't know him might call a smile... but his eyes remained hard. Hard for him anyway.

"Dinner would be a start," he murmured softly. "And a big pot of black coffee wouldn't hurt. I have a feeling..." Ben turned toward the door, "...it's gonna be a long night..."

Leaning against the closed door, one ankle hooked over the other, his arms folded across the front of his black shirt, Aiden Montgomery's careful gaze rested on his boss... who sat at his desk eating dinner almost as an automaton while at the same time reviewing the files he'd uploaded from NORPAC's main records database. Smith's face was expressionless though a hard glitter occassionally lit his eyes when he came across something of interest. He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, eyebrows going up in surprise as he stumbled upon one of those rare bits of information which had earlier managed to somehow slip past him.

"Were you aware..." he laid his fork carefully back on his plate, "...that our estimable Captain Nathan Bridger has been awarded the Navy Cross on three separate occasions? For extraordinary heroism in combat..." he almost disdainfully repeated the words which had appeared on the monitor in front of him.

"What did you expect?" Montgomery muttered. "You've heard the old saying... heroes aren't born... they're made."

Smith frowned at him from beneath suddenly lowered eyebrows.

"What happened to ruin your usually sunny disposition?" he grumbled, taking another bite of his food.

Montgomery shuffled uneasily, his gaze roaming the room before it eventually returned to Smith.

"I've got a real uneasy feeling about this," he finally admitted, running the fingers of one hand through his sandy hair and scratching his head.

"Why?" Smith asked, chewing.

"Her... for one reason."

"Her?"

"Yeah... your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend..." Smith rejoined sharply. "And where is she anyway?"

"Downstairs... checking on the injuries. You sure you want her running around loose like that?"

"What's she gonna do, Monty... single-handedly overpower us with a scalpel and stethoscope?"

"You ever hear of David and Goliath?"

Smith chuckled dryly.

"I'm serious..." Montgomery murmured following a lengthy silence. "You're letting this one become personal... and I don't like it."

"Personal?" Smith's fork clattered to his plate and he leaned back in his chair, staring at the other man through narrowed eyes. "Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" he inquired in a deceptively mild voice.

"It means this thing has suddenly become bigger than just Bridger... bigger than this justice spiel you're continually turning out."

Smith sighed and leaned forward.

"I don't--"

"What is she to you?"

"Nothing," he denied. "She's nothing to me."

"Don't give me that... I wasn't born yesterday."

"She's just a woman I knew once... that's all."

"You knew she'd be here," Montgomery accused. "Didn't you?"

Standing, Smith moved to the window and gazed through the muted glass, hands linked behind his back. He appeared almost to be meditating. Finally he spoke without turning around.

"What if I did?"

Montgomery shrugged.

"Nothing... I guess." He eyed Smith curiously. "Unless of course you were planning on using her to get to him... emotionally maybe. Which seems a little below your standards. Or maybe you decided you could get some information out of her."

Smith's smile was reflected back at Montgomery from the window glass.

"Maybe."

"Or maybe you figure if you pound hard enough... if you make him look bad enough... if you prove he's not the knight in shining armour he appears to be..." Montgomery paused briefly, "...you might have another chance with her."

"Believe me..." Smith stated flatly, "...I don't have another chance with her."

"Then what the--"

"Leave it!" Smith's demeanor was stiff and extolled the exasperation he was beginning to feel with his henchman. "Whatever she might have been to me once doesn't matter now. What matters is that we get on with this thing... and get the hell out of here..."