Kristen Westphalen sat in her compact office in Medbay and fumed to herself. So she was the Chief Medical Officer of seaQuest, was she? Hah! For all the notice certain people were taking of her, she might be excused for believing that she was the Chief Washer-Upper of Dirty Cups! Ever since seaQuest had undergone her trial by fire and successfully seen off Stark and her mysterious backers, Westphalen had been trying to get medicals done on every member of the crew so that she could be certain that everyone was in good health and also to update the records. Like many doctors, Kristen had a sneaking suspicion of information gathered by medical personnel she knew nothing about. Particularly when said medical people were employed by the military.

At first everything had gone well. Looking back, she should have realised that perhaps things were proceeding too smoothly. It hadn't taken her long to bully the civilian complement to give in and comply with her wishes. The ordinary crew had proved a bit more of a challenge, but they had also capitulated when Westphalen had pointed out that regulations permitted her to suspend anyone she suspected might be carrying an infectious disease and if she hadn't examined them then how could she be certain they weren't? She hadn't even had to go into any great detail over the procedures for testing for things like anthrax or leprosy before the seamen and women started turning up at Medbay, many of them eyeing her with a nervousness tinged with respect.

The smirk on her face gradually died as Westphalen recalled the reason for her current dissatisfaction. Yes, the ordinary crewmembers of seaQuest had proved to be easy meat once she'd got down to it, but now she had more stubborn prey in her sights. The only people yet to be given medicals were the bridge personnel, and they were proving to be made of sterner stuff. Oh, they were extremely polite and never flat-out refused to obey her, but somehow or other there was always some valid excuse why they had to put it off to some later - unspecified - date. Kristen was rapidly coming to the boil and there was nothing she could do. Krieg had blown her out of the water the first time she had used the infectious diseases ploy, quoting a regulation so obscure that she had had to spend a good three hours finding it. She had been infuriated to discover that the rule denying her the right to isolate someone without proper cause did exist and she had little doubt that the Supply and Morale Officer would have wasted no time in telling the others about it.

She had thought that she would have no trouble with Hitchcock. After all, the Chief Engineer was a woman and therefore far more sensible than the other officers. To her chagrin, however, Katie had proved just as blind to the advantages of getting her medical out of the way immediately. Even O'Neill, whom Kristen had mentally tagged as easy meat, had turned out to be elusive. Westphalen was beginning to wonder if the comtech was psychic, the way he always seemed to sense when she was going to try and box him into a corner over the subject. The doctor had finally lost all patience when Ortiz had pulled a wide-eyed 'no comprendo, senora' on her. If Ford hadn't happened along at that moment and ordered the Cuban to attend to some obscure piece of business, murder would have been done. The Exec wasn't exactly safe, either. Kristen had so many grudges against his name already that she regularly prayed that the Commander would come down with something that required injections. Lots and lots of injections.

Fuming to herself, Kristen decided that if they wanted war, that was just what she was going to give them. Make life difficult for a poor doctor, would they? Westphalen smiled evilly to herself. Boy, were they going to regret it!

"If in doubt, start at the top and work your way down," she murmured as she reached for the intercom.

She was going to enjoy this.

oooOooo

"Medbay to Captain Bridger."

Nathan Bridger gave a start and frowned in annoyance when Kristen's voice came over his intercom. It had been one of those days when all manner of niggling little things went wrong and he had been looking forward to a couple of hours of undisturbed reading. With an inner sigh he reflected that a captain was never really off-duty and he swung himself off his bunk and padded over to answer the doctor.

"Bridger here. What is it, Kristen?"

"I was wondering if you could come down and see something I have in Medbay," Westphalen said briskly. "I didn't want to disturb you while you were on duty."

Nathan hesitated. The idea of facing Kristen and having to concentrate on whatever it was that she was currently working on was a daunting one. He just didn't have either the energy or inclination. "Can't it wait, Doctor?" he inquired a little plaintively. "I was hoping to take a short rest before dinner."

There was a moment of silence on the other end. "I quite understand, Captain," Westphalen eventually said. "I wouldn't dream of imposing on you. I just felt that I wanted to share this with you."

Bridger winced, not sure if he imagined the hurt note in the doctor's voice. He didn't want to upset Westphalen, not when he knew how difficult she was finding it to adapt to the militaristic note to life on board seaQuest. He was still a little disconcerted over the physical attraction he felt for her, though, and he was trying to walk a fine line between accessibility and professional distance. Under no circumstances, however, did he want her to think that he didn't have time for her.

"No, it's all right," he reassured her hastily. "I wasn't planning on doing anything special. I'll be down in ten minutes, okay?"

"That'll be fine, Captain. I'll be waiting for you."

It didn't occur to Bridger to wonder what Kristen could possibly have in Medbay to show him until it was too late. One look at her face when he walked through the hatch and he scented a trap. Unfortunately he did so a fraction too late to actually do anything about it.

"Kristen?" he asked doubtfully. "You wanted to show me something?"

Westphalen nodded, taking his arm and encouraging him to come further in. Nathan was uneasily aware of the strength to the grip she had on him. "Indeed I do, Nathan. I would like you to have a guided tour of Medbay's facilities and what better way to do that than to give you a medical. A nice, in-depth medical, which every one of you dratted Navy people should have had over a month ago."

"Er, I don't think that will be necessary, Kristen," Bridger said nervously, trying to tug himself free unobtrusively but realising that he would probably have to resort to hand-to-hand if he wanted to escape. "I'll be more than happy to let you examine me but at the moment I'm a little busy..."

"You just finished telling me that you weren't planning on doing anything special," Westphalen retorted swiftly. "Please, Nathan. If I've done your medical then I've a better chance of getting at least some of your bridge crew to comply!"

Bridger gave her a startled glance, hearing the frustration and unhappiness in her voice. "Have you been having trouble with them?" he inquired.

The doctor gave him an embarrassed smile. "Trouble? Oh, they haven't been disobeying me, if that's what you mean, but they always have a reason why they can't come down to Medbay, or they tell me they'll contact me later to make an appointment, only something always conveniently turns up to make them cancel. It's driving me nuts, Nathan, and it makes me think that they don't trust me."

She looked so woebegone that Nathan felt a stir of righteous anger, conveniently forgetting that he had been about to do the exact same thing to her before she had blown him out of the water. He stopped trying to pull away and patted the hand on his arm reassuringly.

"I didn't realise we were being so awkward, Doctor. We'll get my medical out of the way and then we'll see about rounding up the other strays you have outstanding. We can't have people thinking we don't trust our CMO, can we?"

Westphalen answered his smile with an enigmatic one of her own. "Just what I was thinking, Captain. Now, if you'll just hop up on this bed, we can get started."

Nathan did as he was told and lay back obediently. Listening to Kristen bustle about gathering her equipment, he pretended not to hear the muttered comment about one sucker down and seven to go.

oooOooo

Jonathan Ford hummed softly to himself as he studied the navigation globe, his senses soothed by the quiet efficiency of the bridge crew surrounding him. While the day had started out disastrously, with one problem after another cropping up to exacerbate tempers, dogged persistence on the part of his crew had dealt with each one until all was functioning smoothly once more. He knew that they had to expect this kind of thing. The virus Stark had written into the mainframe had done a lot of damage. Things wouldn't really be right until they got seaQuest back to Pearl and gave her a thorough going over. Until then he and the captain would have to rely on the professionalism and stubbornness of their crew.

The Commander felt a small flick of uneasiness as that thought passed through his mind. He was still extremely nervous of how he stood with Bridger. Oh, he had explained why he had acted the way he had and Bridger had told him not to worry about it, but Jonathan couldn't help but do just that. Bridger wasn't just any Captain. The man was a legend and someone Jonathan had always looked up to. The thought that such a man might doubt his Exec's loyalty or competence was enough to make Ford cringe. Every time he had to report a failure or delay to Bridger, Jonathan always felt as though he had personally let his captain down.

"Commander Ford?"

O'Neill's polite tones distracted Jonathan from his darkening mood. "Yes, Mr O'Neill? What is it?"

The junior lieutenant sent an apologetic look in his direction. "I have Dr Westphalen on line, sir. She would like to talk to you."

"Oh, Lord," Ford muttered under his breath. He glared as he saw the faintest curve touch O'Neill's lips. "Put her on, Lieutenant," he growled. Might as well. I'm in a bad mood, anyway. "Yes, Doctor, what can I do for you?" he asked, struggling to keep the defensive note out of his voice.

"I'm in Medbay, Commander," Westphalen said crisply. "I'm not sure if you're aware of it, but I have Captain Bridger here with me."

"Captain Bridger?" Ford echoed in alarm. "Is he all right?"

"I've just finished examining him," the doctor went on. "I think you should get down here as soon as possible."

"What... I'll be right there!" Ford yelped. He looked around a little wildly. "O'Neill! You have the conn until I get back!"

"Oh, great!" O'Neill groaned. "Er, that is, aye, sir!" he amended hastily when Ford threw him a scathing look as he exited the bridge. As soon as the Exec was safely out of sight, O'Neill rolled his eyes Heavenward. "You had better not have anything interesting planned for us in the next few hours," he muttered.

By the time Ford reached Medbay, he had managed to persuade himself that Bridger was at death's door. Why else would Westphalen be so evasive? Hurtling through the main hatch, he looked around a trifle wildly, then stopped and stared as he saw Bridger sitting across the desk from Westphalen. The captain was looking remarkably relaxed for someone in imminent danger of expiring.

"Captain?" he inquired warily, suddenly scenting the possibility of a trap of some kind.

"Ah, there you are, Commander," Westphalen observed with an affability which Ford could only describe as sinister in the extreme. "I appreciate your prompt arrival for your medical."

"My medical?!" Ford yelled, decorum hurling itself out of the nearest porthole. "But... you said... You told me that there was something wrong with the captain!" he bellowed.

Westphalen raised an elegant eyebrow. "I did nothing of the kind, Commander. All I said was that I had just finished examining Captain Bridger. I said nothing as to what I found. As it turns out, the captain is a remarkably... healthy... man."

Ford realised with a kind of fascinated horror that Bridger was blushing and he put a hasty curb on the imagination which was painting scenarios which made him feel nauseous. "You made me think that there was something wrong," he persisted accusingly. "You knew I wouldn't come down here otherwise!"

"Going on the number and variety of excuses that you have come up with over the last few weeks, I would say that was a certainty, wouldn't you?" Westphalen pointed out sweetly.

"I particularly liked the one about having to count the rivets in the aft port ballast tanks, Jonathan," Bridger commented. "I wasn't aware that we had rivets in the ballast tanks?"

"Um, I thought it wise to check, sir," Ford said a little desperately, realising that the game was up but unwilling to go down without one last fight.

Bridger gave a single hiccup and then started laughing helplessly. Ford stared at him in consternation for a moment, then felt his own lips twitch. He hadn't realised that the captain had quite such an infectious laugh. Even Westphalen was grinning broadly.

"Give it up, Jonathan," Bridger eventually managed to wheeze. "The good Doctor caught me fair and square, so I'm not likely to allow anyone else to get away with it. Besides, all joking aside, it does create a bad impression. We're not making things any easier for Dr Westphalen, you know."

It was on the tip of Ford's tongue to agree cheerfully, then he caught sight of the dangerous glint in the doctor's eyes and hastily changed his mind. After all, she was going to be coming after him shortly with all kinds of medical-type equipment. The last thing he needed was to make her decide on an in-depth examination. He'd seen some of the things doctors used and was privately of the opinion that an irritated medic was a lot more dangerous than your average military man.

"Ah, I suppose so, sir. I'll, er, just go back to the bridge and arrange for a relief to take-" He realised that both Bridger and Westphalen were shaking their heads slowly. "No?"

"No," Bridger agreed gently.

"You're not leaving here until after I've carried out your medical, Commander," Westphalen told him. "Now just go through and strip and I'll-"

"Strip!" Ford yelped, backing up several paces and staring at her in ill-concealed panic.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" Westphalen exploded. "Are all the men on this boat going to act like outraged virgins when I ask them to take their clothes off? I'm a doctor, for Heaven's sake! I see naked men all the time!"

"You haven't seen me!" Jonathan shot back, then flushed as he realised how that sounded.

"No, I haven't. I can hardly control my glee at the thought," the doctor responded dryly. "I promise faithfully that I will attempt to control myself while you are in my care, Commander. On the other hand, if you don't get in there and strip, I am perfectly capable of ensuring that you enjoy the full services of the ICU. Do I make myself clear?"

Ford had sense enough to know when he was beaten. "Yes, Doctor," he said glumly. "Perfectly clear."

"Cheer up, Jonathan," Bridger said comfortingly. "Look at it this way; after you've got your own examination out of the way, I'm putting you in charge of getting Lieutenant Krieg to Medbay."

"Krieg?" Ford paused and shot a startled look back over his shoulder. "Krieg has been dodging this as well?"

"Very effectively, I gather," Bridger said dryly. He smiled slightly as he heard Kristen snort to herself. "He has a large store of excuses."

"Oh, he does, does he?" Ford growled. "Well, we'll soon see about that. If I've got to go through this, I don't see why Krieg can get away with it."

Bridger exchanged a conspiratorial wink with Kristen, perfectly willing to join in with her plots. It was actually quite fun and he was deeply impressed - if a little startled - by the depth of her deviousness.

Two down and six to go.

Lieutenant Krieg studied the list of 'urgent' jobs which Ford had suddenly slapped down on his desk and wondered if the Commander had suffered a sudden rush of blood to the head. Sensing that some kind of trap was opening up in front of him, but unable to find it, the Supply and Morale Officer gazed up suspiciously at the Executive Officer.

"You want all of this done now?" he demanded. "Why?"

Ford gave him an unreadable look. "In case it's escaped your attention, Lieutenant, seaQuest has been invaded by a computer virus and subject to attack. When we get back to Pearl, we'll be undergoing a major refit. I want to be able to give accurate information about the resources we have to hand when I'm asked."

"But I already have the figures," Krieg protested.

"Oh, no," Ford shook his head. "You've pulled your information from the computer and since the virus all information from that source is suspect. The other department heads have checked their information manually. I want you to do the same."

"Yeah, but everything? That'll take weeks!"

"Then the quicker you begin, the sooner you'll finish, won't you?" Ford pointed out affably. He paused theatrically. "Of course, I might be willing to negotiate."

Aha! Here it comes, Krieg thought. "Oh, yes, Commander?" he said cautiously.

"Yes." Ford paused and considered Krieg thoughtfully. "Dr Westphalen has been complaining about problems with supplies to Medbay. If you can get her off my back, I'll accept your original findings."

"Placate Westphalen?" Krieg said in strangled tones. "It'd be easier to do the assessment myself!"

The Commander shrugged. "Your choice. It's no skin off my nose if you can't handle Westphalen..."

"I didn't say I couldn't handle her!" Krieg yelped without thinking. He cleared his throat as Ford lifted a sardonic eyebrow. "What I mean is, ah, I might be able to help you out. Just what was she complaining about?"

"Anything and everything. You should know the good doctor by now. So you'll do it? It might be more than you can cope with."

"Puh-leeze," Krieg scoffed. "I'm an expert at what I do, okay? As soon as I find out what Westphalen wants, she'll get it."

It didn't occur to Krieg to wonder about the small smile on Ford's lips until he got to Medbay. By then it was far, far too late. Ford made a point of wandering past ten minutes later and listened in quiet satisfaction to the yells of outrage coming from Medbay.

Three down and five to go.

"Oh, blast!"

Hitchcock glanced up as she heard Westphalen's heartfelt curse. The doctor was standing in the hatchway leading into Engineering's small Ready Room. "What can I do for you, Doctor?" she inquired mildly.

"What?" Westphalen blinked at her. "Oh, it's just that I was hoping there would be an engineer here."

Katie eyed her in disbelief for a moment, then tamped down on the small spurt of irritation she felt. "There is an engineer here," she pointed out a little tartly.

"There is?" Kristen looked around again, for all the world as if she expected someone to leap out of a wall compartment, yelling 'surprise!'. After a moment, though, the penny seemed to drop. "Oh, I couldn't ask you to do this for me, Katie!"

"Do what?" Hitchcock demanded, still smarting from the implied insult.

"The diagnostic computer's gone down in Medbay," Westphalen explained. "It's probably a piddling little fuse that's gone somewhere. Not the sort of job for a Chief Engineer."

Normally Hitchcock would have agreed with her and called one of her ensigns. Right at this moment, however, she would have changed a light bulb if it meant Westphalen learnt her place. Looking for an engineer, indeed! With a barely suppressed sniff of annoyance, Hitchcock shut down the terminal she had been using and got to her feet.

"Just show me what's wrong and I'll tell you what it needs," she said frostily.

Westphalen continued to do her best to apologise all the way down to Medbay, although her choice of words had the opposite effect to what she intended. By the time they got there, the Lieutenant-Commander was perfectly willing to rip apart the entire section until she found out what was wrong. It was something of an anticlimax when her initial, almost cursory examination turned up the solution. It was a blown fuse in one of the diagnostic panels. She said as much to Westphalen as she replaced it and watched everything start up again smoothly.

"Really?" Westphalen said, eyes wide with astonished respect. "How clever of you to find out so quickly."

Hitchcock looked up at her sharply, hearing something in the other woman's voice which hadn't been there before. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the broad grin on the doctor's face as she patted the examination table.

"Why don't we check it out while you're here, hmmm?"

For a moment longer the incredulity held, then Katie's sense of humour got the better of her and she dissolved into laughter. After a startled moment, Westphalen followed suit.

"Oh my," Hitchcock said as she subsided down against the deck after laughing so hard. "All this just for my medical?"

"Well, you were proving a little... elusive, shall we say?"

"I suppose I was," Katie admitted. "Well, no time like the present," she said briskly as she pushed herself back to her feet. "Where do you want me?"

"That's what I like to hear," Kristen said in satisfaction. "Four down and four to go."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing important."

"Lieutenant O'Neill?"

"Aah!" O'Neill leapt a good foot off the deck, spun around and flattened himself against the bulkhead, giving Westphalen much the same look he would have given a rabid tiger. "I'm busy!" he yelped. "Extremely busy! Overwhelmingly busy, in fact. Truly!"

"I'm sure you are, Lieutenant. You've been busy for so long, haven't you?" she asked sweetly.

O'Neill made a determined effort to melt back into the bulkhead. "It's, ah, been that kind of month," he said feebly.

"I'm sure it has," Westphalen soothed, then spoiled the effect by giving him what he considered an extremely sinister smile. "I wonder if you could do me the teeniest favour?"

O'Neill started shaking his head vigorously, but an element of uncertainty crept in when Westphalen continued to gaze at him with what he thought to be an unnerving degree of complacency. "Er... what kind of favour?" he demanded cautiously.

"I just need to have this note translated, Lieutenant," Westphalen said brightly. "I'm afraid I don't read Japanese."

"That's it?" O'Neill said warily. "Just translate the note?"

"Just read what's on the note, Lieutenant."

Still eyeing her suspiciously, O'Neill reached out to take the note. "Um.... let's see. Oh, yeah. It says 'Lieutenant O'Neill, get your behind down to Medbay for your medical before I..." His voice trailed away and his eyes grew huge as he read the rest of the message. "Is that physically possible?" he squeaked.

Westphalen's smile turned predatory. "If you're not down in Medbay within the next ten minutes, I'll be happy to give you a demonstration, Lieutenant. A practical demonstration."

"Yikes! Er, that is, I'll be right down, Doctor!"

"That's ever so good of you, Lieutenant," Westphalen murmured as she watched O'Neill break all previous records down the corridor. "Just three more to go, and I know just the bait for the next fish."

"Oh, Miguel?"

"Hmmm?" Ortiz removed his head from the innards of a WSKR to find himself staring directly down the cleavage of Nurse Mariah Dion. Understandably startled, he jerked back, only to hit his head against the WSKR casing. "Ouch! Uh, what can I do for you, Mariah?"

Dion leaned even closer and Miguel's blood pressure jumped a couple of points. "I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner this evening?"

"Huh?" Ortiz goggled at her in disbelief. The one and only time he had attempted to flirt with Dion, she had threatened to use a blunt needle on a tender part of his anatomy. "I thought you told me-"

"Oh, you silly!" Mariah gave him a playful cuff. "Didn't you realise I was just teasing?"

"Teasing?" Miguel rubbed his ringing ear and stared at her. "I'd hate to be around when you're serious!"

"You're so amusing, Miguel." Dion aimed another blow but this time Ortiz was ready for her and ducked.

"Yeah, I'm known for it," he said dryly, inching away from her cautiously. "So why the sudden urge for my company?"

"Can't a girl change her mind?" Mariah pouted, batting her eyelashes and inhaling deeply.

Miguel's eyes glazed over as his train of thought derailed in spectacular fashion. "Si," he managed after a moment.

"So why don't you pick me up at Medbay when I get off-duty at 1600 hours?" she suggested brightly.

After a moment, Ortiz shrugged. "Sure, why not?" he agreed. "After all, what have I got to lose?"

At 1800 hours, Ortiz fled Medbay and found O'Neill leaning against the wall opposite the hatch. The sensor chief paused and glared at the American.

"If I ever find out that you knew about this ahead of time, you are dead," he threatened.

O'Neill looked hurt. "Hey, come on, this is Westphalen we're talking about! Do you really think I'd sink that low?"

"No, I guess not. Sorry. Did she get you as well?" Ortiz asked curiously.

The comtech nodded, looking disgusted. "I think I lost at least two pints of blood to her and the other vampires, but she passed me as fit. You?"

"Of course." Ortiz looked smug. "And I got a real date with Mariah."

"You are incorrigible, you know that, don't you?" O'Neill laughed. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Miguel asked curiously as he trailed after O'Neill obediently.

"I've checked. The only bridge officer who hasn't had a medical yet is Phillips." O'Neill spun on his heel and walked backwards as he continued. "I don't think that's very fair on him, do you? He might start to feel neglected, right?"

After a moment, Ortiz matched O'Neill's feral grin with one of his own. "Right," he agreed. "We can't have our friend left out in the cold like that. It wouldn't be proper."

Phillips gazed down lovingly at his tiramasu and sighed with bliss. It had taken him six weeks of careful diplomacy to get one of the cooks to agree to make this, but it was worth it. Ortiz and O'Neill could keep their Death By Chocolate and ice cream; this was dessert heaven. Taking the first spoonful, he lifted towards his mouth with mouth-watering anticipation.

"There you are!"

The hand which landed on his shoulder startled him out of his gourmet daze and the tiramasu fell off the spoon to land on the plate. "What? Who-?" He stared around wildly.

"We've been looking for you, Phillips," O'Neill carolled from his right.

"Yes, and we're so pleased we've found you," Ortiz added on his left.

"Is that a fact?" Phillips looked from one to the other, paranoia kicking in with a vengeance. When this pair looked this innocent, all hell was going to break loose very shortly.

"Yep, that's a fact," O'Neill replied cheerfully. "And now we've found you, we're going to take you away from all this."

"Huh? But I don't want-"

"Nonsense!" Ortiz interrupted heartily, grabbing Phillips by the scruff of the neck and yanking him to his feet.

"We insist," O'Neill agreed, getting him in an armlock. "You should get out more, Phillips, see the sights."

"But we're on a submarine!" Phillips protested, trying to dig his feet in and being deftly tripped by Ortiz.

"Ah, but it's a very big submarine," Tim said sweetly, "with lots of little out-of-the-way spots to explore."

"Like Medbay," Ortiz gloated.

"Medbay?!" The pieces clicked together and Phillips realised just how much trouble he was in. "Oh, come on, guys, this isn't fair! Can't I at least finish my dessert? Guys? Guys!"

"Uh, Miguel?"

"Yeah?" Ortiz left off trying to find the 3-D picture that was supposed to be lurking within the multi-coloured traffic accident Lucas had given him and glanced across at his friend. "What's the matter?"

"Far be it for me to question your tactics-"

"-but you're going to," Ortiz observed with a grin.

"Well, yeah. Why are we waiting outside Medbay when Phillips is going to come charging out of there at any minute?"

"Simple. Phillips is going to be mad as hell, right?"

"Right," O'Neill agreed with nervous fervour.

"He's going to be looking for us to stomp us into the deck, right?"

"You're not helping, you know!"

Ortiz grinned at him. "Stop frothing. He's going to come looking for us, breathing fire and screaming for blood, no matter where we go on the boat. Being here, we're conveniently placed to send him right back in to Medbay once we've finished pointing out the error of his ways to him."

"Cocky little beggar, aren't you?" O'Neill said sarcastically.

"Confident, Tim. Confidence is everything."

O'Neill snorted. "Having a body like the Terminator wouldn't hurt, either."

Ortiz started to laugh, knowing that Tim's martial arts skills meant that he was more than a match for most adversaries. That didn't stop him from prophesying his imminent death and maiming at every opportunity. Before Ortiz could come back with a suitable retort, the hatch to Medbay slammed open and Phillips stormed out.

"Aha!" he said with relish, skidding to a halt and glaring at them in gleeful anticipation. "The victims."

"In your dreams, Phillips," Ortiz scoffed, pushing away from the bulkhead.

"Hold that thought, Ortiz," Phillips snarled. "It can comfort you during your convalescence."

Kristen paused in the middle of inputting Phillips' results as the sound of the fight penetrated into Medbay. She sat where she was for a moment, unable to believe what was happening. Gradually she relaxed and directed a heartfelt look upwards.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "It's nice to know you're on my side." Abandoning the computer, she trotted across to the intercom. "Security? Is Chief Crocker there? Ah, Chief, some of the crew are fighting in the corridor outside Medbay. Could you come down and sort it out? You will? Thank you so much."

Switching off the intercom, Kristen suppressed the urge to rub her hands together with glee. The last fly was about to buzz merrily into her parlour. There was just enough time to get things ready for him.

Ortiz and O'Neill had just got to the point where Phillips was about to cry 'uncle' when their fun was abruptly curtailed by the arrival of an irate Crocker. The security Chief soon had the three of them lined up against the wall while he paced up and down in front of them as he read them the riot act.

"-a total disgrace! I don't know; fighting in the corridor like a bunch of kids with no sense," he rumbled angrily.

"Fighting?" Ortiz gave him a look of wide-eyed horror. "But we weren't fighting, Chief!"

"You weren't?" Crocker paused in mid-tirade and stared at him.

"We weren't?" O'Neill and Phillips chorused in unison as they looked at one another in bewilderment before switching their attention to the Cuban.

"Of course not." Miguel sounded shocked to the core. "We were just exercising."

"Exercising!" Crocker echoed incredulously. He folded his arms across his chest and glowered at the three of them. "Just how stupid do you think I am?"

Pure devilment glowed into life in Ortiz' eyes as he prepared to answer. O'Neill gave a yelp of dismay and promptly slapped a hand across the Cuban's mouth, knowing how carried away Miguel could get at times. For once, the comtech greeted Westphalen's appearance behind Crocker with relief.

"Ah, Chief," she said with satisfaction. "You've sorted things out."

"Well, not exactly, ma'am," Crocker started to protest, but he was ruthlessly cut short.

"Nonsense. I'm sure these three have learned their lesson and they probably have far better things to do than hang around here. Haven't you?" she asked them meaningfully.

"Oh, absolutely," O'Neill agreed immediately, dragging Ortiz along with him as he started down the corridor.

"Yep. Busy, busy, busy," Phillips added, ignoring the muffled sounds of protest coming from Ortiz as he grabbed a flailing arm and helped O'Neill do the hauling. "See you around, Doc."

"Not!" O'Neill said, a fraction too loudly. "Stop biting, Ortiz!"

"I guess that's everything sorted out, then," Crocker said a resignation. "I'll be off, now."

"Oh, there's no rush," Westphalen purred. "Since you're here, you might as well have your medical."

"My medical?" Crocker backed up hastily, only to find that two nurses had appeared from nowhere and executed a neat flanking manoeuvre. "Er, I don't think that's necessary, Doctor."

"Ah, but I do and that's what counts," Westphalen pointed out. "Now, c'mere and stop whimpering!" Grabbing the front of his uniform, she yanked hard. With a squawk of dismay, Crocker went to his doom.

Westphalen heaved a contented sigh as she inputed the last of Crocker's details. Finally, she was up to date! A discreet cough brought her round to see Bridger standing just inside the door.

"All finished, Kristen?"

"Yes," she smiled, nodding vigorously. "I thought I'd never get everyone done."

"Ah, well that's not exactly true," Bridger said thoughtfully.

"What?" Westphalen blinked at him in consternation. "I missed someone?"

"Uh-huh. You see, Ortiz had a date with Mariah, one of your nurses. They got to talking-"

"Hah! I'll bet," Westphalen muttered. She had seen the look on Dion's face when Ortiz had stripped off for the examination.

"-and that's when it slipped out." Bridger gave her a look of exasperation when she started laughing. "Your mind, Kristen...!"

"I don't understand," Kristen protested once she had recovered her equilibrium. "I did Mariah's medical myself."

"That you did," Bridger agreed affably. He stepped aside to admit Levin and Dion, who smiled at her benignly. "The thing is, Kristen, who did yours?"

"Mine?" Westphalen stared at him in consternation, then glared at the other two as they advanced. "This is ridiculous! You can't do this to me! I'm the CMO, for Heaven's sake. Nathan, I'll get you for this!"

"I don't doubt it," Bridger grinned as he watched her being dragged away. "Right now, though, revenge is very, very sweet. Have fun, Doctor."

-oooOooo-