"What I want to know is why I'm the one who always ends up on a diet?" Ortiz complained indignantly. He was having a light lunch in seaQuest's Ward Room with his friend and colleague Tim O'Neill.

"You're not on a diet," the comtech pointed out amiably. "Westphalan told you to cut down on the dessert, that's all."

"What's that if it's not a diet?" Miguel demanded, eyeing the way O'Neill energetically dug into the peach gateaux on his plate.

"It's called 'exercising restraint'," Tim answered sweetly, delicately licking the last cream off his fork. "Rather than stuffing yourself with every dessert that gets left on it's own for two seconds."

"You mean like you eating your way through three slices of that cake?" Ortiz said in disgust.

"Ah, but I'm not on a diet," Tim pointed out sweetly.

"See, even you admit it! I am on a diet!"

"If you say so, Mig, if it makes you happy."

Ortiz scowled. It didn't make him feel any better to have won his point. He was still on the diet. "Could you at least pretend not to be enjoying that thing?" he demanded petulantly.

"I could do, yeah. But I'm not going to. Why should I? I don't bulge in a wet suit."

Miguel's scowl deepened. "Neither do I!" he yelped indignantly.

"Yet."

"I don't!"

"Then why has Westphalan put you on a No Cake diet?" Tim asked innocently. "Those that indulge, bulge"

"Oh shut up." Sulking, Ortiz settled back in his chair and folded his arms. "Fine friend, you are. A real friend would go on a diet with me."

O'Neill gave him a hurt look and pushed his plate aside. "But I don't need to," he protested.

"I know. That's the aggravating thing about you. You haven't had the grace to put on so much as an ounce since we left the Academy! I only have to look at a cake and the calories go yum and pounce on me."

Tim grinned at the Cuban's mournful tone. "You're not that bad, Mig, you're mostly muscle," he assured him. "But you've got to admit you did splurge a bit in Honolulu. Why don't you go and exercise in the gym? Lift a few weights or something?"

Miguel considered this. He did find exercise a good way to take his mind off things. Ortiz blinked and slid a suddenly thoughtful look at O'Neill. Something had been puzzling him and now he knew what it was. Eating usually took Tim's mind off things. "Exactly how come you're eating all that cake anyway?"

"I like peach gateaux," Tim said in surprise. "Why shouldn't I?"

"The rules against greed and gluttony for one thing," Miguel retorted, leaning forward to peer closely at his friend. Tim eyed him warily and reached for his coffee.

"What?"

"Something's bothering you. You only start eating whole cakes when you're nervous."

"I do not."

"Do to."

"Do not!"

"Do!"

"Don't!" Tim's indignant yelp drew attention from the engineering crew across the Ward Room. He and Miguel both glared at them as they eyed the two young officers in amusement. The engineers hastily turned back to their own lunch, leaving Tim to frown at Miguel. "Now, see what you made me do. Honestly, with friends like you who needs enemies? You can make me act like a kid at times."

Ortiz grinned wickedly. He was firmly of the opinion that O'Neill could be too strait laced for his own good and it was one of Miguel's reasons for existence to make sure Tim didn't get too wrapped up in the rights and wrongs of the world. "Do not," he teased.

"Don't start that again," Tim snapped impatiently.

"Then don't change the subject. What's bugging you?"

"Nothing."

"Tim..."

"Nothing that I know of," O'Neill expounded. "I've been feeling a little edgy the last couple of hours. I don't know why."

Miguel frowned, considering this. "Is your empathy nudging you?" he wondered. Ortiz was one of the few people who could get away with asking O'Neill such a question. It was a touchy subject for the comtech, who was very unsettled about his slowly developing psi talent.

"How should I know? We're not exactly on speaking terms most of the time," Tim muttered, concentrating on studying the bottom of his coffee cup.

"Anything else it might be? Magee breathing down your neck again?"

"It's not her breathing that worries me, it's her wandering hands," Tim muttered. "But it's not that. She's been fairly restrained the last few days."

Miguel laughed. "Maybe that's it. You're missing her attentions."

Tim glanced up and smiled faintly. "No, I'm pretty sure these are new tactics. She's lulling me into a false sense of security. One of these days she's going to turn up stark naked in my bunk."

"Wishful thinking, Tim. No mixed fraternisation remember?"

"Read your regs," O'Neill retorted.

"Huh?"

"Regulations, Miguel. No fraternisation with non approved personnel is the correct form. You can visit with anyone you like as long as they're crew."

"Since when?"

"Since you can't keep civilians apart. And it's not fair on the military crew to let the civilians do something we can't."

Miguel considered this thoughtfully, a wicked little grin quirking his mouth.

"Don't even think it," O'Neill warned him sternly however. "You won't get away with sleeping with anyone on this boat. That is definitely against regulations."

"How'd you know what I was thinking?" Miguel protested indignantly. "You promised never to read my mind!"

Tim laughed. "Miguel, I don't need to read your mind, only your face."

"My face?"

"I know that grin," Tim smiled back mischievously. "Who's your latest lust object?"

Ortiz pouted and looked hurt. "It's not lust, it's love."

"Again? That's the fifth time this month."

"It is not the fifth time this month. You're exaggerating."

"Yvonne, Cora, Olga..." Tim held up one hand and started counting. "Hey, you're right. It isn't five, it's six. Who is it this time?"

"Mei Ying," Ortiz muttered, glaring at the lieutenant. "Do I complain when you fall for someone?"

"When was the last time I made an idiot of myself over a female?" Tim demanded in response.

"Well..."

"Not counting Tara Kane," Tim added hastily. "I was drunk!"

Miguel thought about it for a second, and then scowled. "Okay, so you have better luck than I do."

"Better manners, you mean. And more taste."

"Are you nuts? Mei Ying is gorgeous! Have you seen her?"

"No. Isn't she the scientist U.E.O. sent us to check on this whale thing?"

"Whale thing he says," Ortiz shook his head. "Tim, she's here to study the oceanic environment of the area and find out why the whales aren't breeding here any more. She's not a whale expert."

"Oh, pity. I'd have thought it logical to send a cetacean expert instead of an oceanologist."

Miguel noted his friend's disappointed expression and smiled. "So would I, but they haven't. U.E.O. probably figures the captain can handle it. Mei Ying will look for pollution or some other cause. Dr MacKenzie will be doing the same from the fish angle."

"Who?"

The strangled note in O'Neill's voice made Miguel look at him in surprise. "What's the matter?"

"Who did you say is studying the fish?"

"Dr MacKenzie. Krieg went to collect him in a launch. Supposing Ben doesn't frighten the wits out of him with his piloting, they should be here this afternoon. Why? What's the matter? You know him?"

"You could say that," Tim whispered shakily. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Ortiz shrugged casually. "Probably didn't think of it. I only know because Ben told me. The guy's Scottish. You won't need to translate."

"Yeah, that's true, isn't it?"

Miguel wasn't sure he liked his friend's hunted expression. "Tim, what's wrong?" he asked seriously.

"Wrong? Oh, er, nothing. Do I look pale to you? Tell me I look pale. Maybe I should go and lie down."

"Or hide in Medbay? Come on, Tim, you look fine," Miguel answered firmly, wondering why O'Neill was panicking. "Scared, but fine. You know this guy? He an ex-tutor or something?"

"Or something," Tim's laugh had a brittle edge. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's someone totally different. Yeah, that's it. It's not who I think it is. He wouldn't come on board. Not with me here."

"Tim, you're babbling," Miguel interrupted him sternly.

"Am I? I can't think why," O'Neill responded shakily.

"Neither can I. What is he? Some kind of fearsome monster that eats comtechs from the toes up?"

Tim laughed shakily. "No, he's my Grandfather."

Miguel stared at his friend. "I didn't even know you had one," he said finally.

"For all intents and purposes, I don't," Tim answered mournfully. "He hasn't spoken to anyone in my family since my folks got divorced."

"Why?"

"He's a strict Catholic. He doesn't believe in divorce. He told my Mom that if she went ahead with it, he'd never speak to her or me again. So far, he's kept his word."

"Sounds like a nice guy," Miguel said sarcastically.

"You can't blame him," Tim said fiercely.

"Why not? You and your Mom didn't deserve to be cut off. You didn't do anything wrong."

"By his rules, she did."

"And he blames you? That's not fair, Tim. You can't exactly adore him."

"He's my Grandfather," Tim protested.

"So? He's got you terrified and he's not even on board yet. No wonder you're nervous. You probably picked him up telepathically miles off."

O'Neill gritted his teeth at the reminder of his telepathic talents. "Okay, so he's not my favourite person in the world. But it's my problem, not yours. Stay out of it."

"Ouch," Miguel said softly, making Tim flash a quick look up at him. Ortiz raised an eyebrow and waited, letting his disapproval sink in.

"Okay, okay. I know you mean well. But you can't help. Don't tell anyone, Mig, please? There's nothing you can do and you'll only make it worse." Tim gave him a pleading look.

The sensor chief sighed and shook his head. "All right, Tim, I'll keep my mouth shut. But what are you going to do? You can't hide from him forever."

"I don't need to. Only until he leaves. seaQuest's a big boat. He doesn't even need to know I'm on board."

"A beautiful boat, captain," Dr Mackenzie said as he paced at Bridger's side, admiring the elegant sweeping arch of the open clamshell doors. "You have an artistic soul."

Nathan smiled, appreciating the older man's respect. The Scot was a handsome man, with a sweep of pure white hair and fierce blue eyes. "seaQuest was so different from any other sub of the line when she was designed that I had more or less free rein to do what I wanted."

"She's certainly much larger than I expected," Mackenzie commented, enjoying his guided tour as they wandered on to the bridge. "But I would have thought the pools would compromise hull integrity."

"They actually form part of our ballast system. In a real emergency they could be totally drained. We can seal them all off separately or individually by a form of airlock."

"I see. I'm surprised the military accepted the design."

"They didn't. seaQuest was originally built without them. They were installed along with quite a few other modifications before I took command. seaQuest is a scientific research vessel now. We can get away with a few things that the Navy wouldn't have approved of. I understand you were in the Navy yourself."

Dr MacKenzie glanced at him and smiled at Nathan's wink. "Aye, that I was. Bridge by name and bridge by nature, hmmm captain?" he chuckled.

"I do my best," Nathan said ruefully. "It isn't always easy. Without help I could never do it. You've already met Lt. Krieg, our supply and morale officer."

"I have. A wheeler and dealer if ever I met one and not a mean bone in him." MacKenzie looked around the bridge with fascinated eyes.

"Let me introduce you around," Bridger led him forwards to where Jonathon Ford was waiting to be introduced.

"Welcome aboard, sir," Ford greeted the scientist politely.

"I'm honoured to be here. So, you're seaQuest's XO, Commander? You must be very proud," MacKenzie said as they shook hands. "I was an Exec myself. It's harder than they think, isn't it?"

"Aye, sir, it is," Ford gave Bridger a smug look that made Nathan grin.

"Don't encourage him," Bridger scolded mildly. "I have enough trouble convincing him seaQuest is my boat as it is."

"Ah now, captain, that's where you're wrong. You may have the keys, but she's the Exec's boat. Navy tradition."

Bridger chuckled as Jonathan's grin widened and led the way over to Engineering. "Our Chief Engineer, Lt. Commander Hitchcock."

"Nice to meet you, Dr MacKenzie." Katie stood up politely to shake the scientist's hand and got a friendly smile in response. "But you're wrong, she's my boat."

MacKenzie laughed outright at that, appreciating Katie's sly glance at Bridger and the captain's rueful grin. "Of course, Commander, but you have to let them think they're running things."

"Of course," Hitchcock grinned back.

Bridger steered MacKenzie away from her and across the bridge. "Lt. Phillips, our Weapons Officer."

"I shouldn't think you get much to do, lieutenant," MacKenzie teased.

Phillips grinned amiably. "Oh, I don't get bored."

"You called me a bridge earlier," Nathan went on. "Well, without Krieg and our Communications officer here, I could never manage it. Tim? Dr MacKenzie, this is Lt. (J.G.) O'Neill. He'll be assisting you."

O'Neill took a deep breath and swung round in his seat, rising to his feet. For a second his hazel eyes flicked from Bridger to MacKenzie and back again, then he fell back on protocol. Snapping to ram rod straight attention, he saluted briskly. "Sir!"

Bridger goggled at him, stunned by his gentle natured comtech's reaction. "Er, yes. Relax, lieutenant." He slid a look at MacKenzie, noting the older man's stony expression.

"I don't think I'll be requiring any assistance, captain," MacKenzie grated coldly. "I think I'll go and unpack."

"Of course, I'll have someone show you to your quarters." Startled by the way the Scot's attitude had changed, Nathan waved a crewman over to escort the scientist off the bridge and then turned back to O'Neill. The comtech was standing at ease, but looked like he would rather be on the other side of the planet. "Sit down, Tim," Bridger said quietly as he mounted the steps. Tim sank into his seat, looking up at the captain with obvious trepidation. "So, what was all that about?"

"Sir?"

"I thought I broke you of the habit of saluting everyone in sight," Nathan said easily.

"Sorry, sir."

"Instinct?" Bridger asked gently.

"Sir?"

"You didn't know how to react, so you fell back on training," Nathan guessed. "You know Dr MacKenzie, don't you? Is there a problem?"

"I don't think he'll want me as his assistant, sir," O'Neill said awkwardly, vividly aware that Phillips was so close he couldn't help overhearing. "The problem is kind of personal, captain."

"I see." Bridger considered for a moment, then straightened up. "Call your relief, lieutenant; I want to see you in the Ready Room."

"Captain?"

Bridger glanced up as he heard O'Neill's tentative query from the hatchway. "Come on in, kid, and stop looking like I'm about to hang you from the yardarm. You want some coffee?" Nathan waved the younger man to a seat, well aware of the way Tim perched nervously on the edge of the chair rather than settling back. He took his time over fixing two cups of coffee and passing one to his officer. "So, out with it Tim. What did MacKenzie do to scare you?"

"Sir?"

"One more sir, O'Neill, and I'll have you on KP," Nathan said sternly. "Come on, what's bothering you? Where do you know MacKenzie from? And what's the problem between you?"

"He's my Grandfather, si..." Tim gulped and shot a nervous look at the senior officer. Nathan grinned.

"Okay, I call off the KP threat. I know it's habit, Tim. He's your Grandfather? I thought your Mom's maiden name was Kowalski."

"Kowalski is the maiden name of my Grandmother," Tim explained reluctantly. "My Mom didn't want to be known as an O'Neill after the divorce."

"Then why not go back to being a MacKenzie?"

"My Grandfather told her she couldn't. He's a strict Catholic, captain. He refused to have anything to do with us after the divorce. I haven't spoken to him since I was about ten."

"Your wish or his?"

"His. We still speak to my Grandmother. She comes and visits. She's a great cook."

"Aren't they all," Bridger smiled in amusement, and then sobered. "Look, Tim, this is obviously a family quarrel. I won't interfere as long as it doesn't interfere with the running of this boat. Capiche?"

"Yes, captain." Tim gave him a small smile and sipped his coffee.

"Good. I'll talk to your Grandfather. You can avoid each other as much as you like, but you are going to be civil to each other when you do meet whether he likes it or not." Nathan grinned as he saw Tim's eyes widen. "You don't think that's possible?"

"From what I remember, he's as stubborn as they come."

Bridger chuckled. "Well, we'll have to see which us is the most stubborn. I'm sure we can persuade him. After all, he needs our co-operation, we don't need his. U.E.O. can always find us another scientist."

"I'm sure that would go down real well, captain," Tim commented dryly. Bridger arched an eyebrow at his officer.

"Plenty more fish in the sea, Tim. I was hoping for a cetacean expert anyway..."

"Tim!" Ortiz' loud bellow startled O'Neill into nearly going through the overhead. He turned to glare at the Cuban as Miguel rushed down the corridor towards him.

"Do you have to do that? Can't you simply say hello?"

"You'd still complain I make you jump," Ortiz said brightly as he reached him. "I was worried about you."

"You were? Why?" Tim gave him a baffled look.

"You looked like a mountain had fallen on you when you left the bridge. What did the captain say?"

"He wanted to know about Dr MacKenzie."

"You mean your...umpf!" Miguel gurgled and glared as Tim clamped one hand over the Cuban's mouth.

"Not so loud, Ortiz. Remember, loose lips sink ships."

"What?" Miguel pried Tim's hand away from his mouth.

"It's a saying. It means don't blab secrets."

"I know what it means; I mean why is it a secret?"

"Because," Tim said firmly and started to stroll on towards his cabin. "I want it kept quiet."

"Why?"

"Why are you so exasperating?" Tim demanded impatiently. "Would you want everyone to know why?"

"Oh, no, I guess not. Sorry." Miguel took a couple of quick strides and fell into step beside the long legged comtech. "So what are you going to do?"

"Me? You mean right now? Go back to my cabin and see if hiding helps."

"You know what I mean."

"The captain's going to tell him to be civil to me."

"Right then." Ortiz grabbed O'Neill's arm and swing him around to face back the way they had come. "Come on, we're going to the Ward Room. You are not spending the rest of this trip locked in your cabin. He's in the wrong, not you and you're not going to suffer because of him."

"But Miguel..."

"They've still got peach gateaux left."

"Oh..." Tim paused thoughtfully, then surrendered gracefully to the inevitable. He knew Miguel was going to get his own way in the end whatever he said. "Well, why didn't you say so? Lead on."

"Up until a few months ago, this area was a major breeding ground for Humpbacks," Mei Ying explained, shifting a laser pointer against the coastal chart displayed on the Ready Room screen by O'Neill. "But something seems to have changed. We don't know what. It could be water quality, contaminated fish, anything. Whales are very sensitive to minute changes in their surroundings, but it's unusual for them to abandon a traditional site like this where their food supply is so plentiful."

Listening to the young woman talk, Nathan allowed his attention to flick over his officers. O'Neill was as usual absorbed in keeping up with the computer displays she required. Ortiz and Lucas, who would be assisting the Vietnamese scientist in their own specialist areas, were totally rapt in simply watching her. Nathan doubted that either of them was taking in a word she was saying and it amused him to see the identical expression of hunger on the faces of both teenager and young man. Mei Ying was well worth watching though, he had to admit. She was tall and willow slender, with long sleek black hair and dazzling jade green eyes.

"What we plan to do is to find out the cause by examining fish and water samples from precisely calculated points around the area. Dr MacKenzie will be co-ordinating the research while I concentrate on collecting the biological samples."

Bridger didn't think he was the only one who noticed Tim flinch slightly. Ortiz actually took his eyes off the woman long enough to look at his friend before turning back to her. "How do you plan to collect them?" Lucas asked curiously.

"By diving, initially. I need to see what's happening in the water levels. Once we have an idea of what's happening in the various layers, maybe then we can start to decide what's going on."

"We'll start by sending the WSKRS out on a particle search," Bridger put in, noting Ortiz' flicker of disappointment. The sensor chief probably wanted to see Mei Ying in a wetsuit and Nathan didn't blame him. "We can also provide you with temperature charts, doctor."

"That would be a great help," Mei Ying said warmly, smiling at the captain with a sparkle in her eyes. "I'd also like to see what we can find out about the Humpbacks themselves. Are there any still in this area?"

"There's a pod of them down the coast a way," Miguel offered.

"Are you sure they're Humpbacks?" Mei Ying asked quickly.

"Ask O'Neill," Ortiz shot a look at the comtech, determined to get some sort of response out of him. Tim was being too quiet for his liking.

"They're Humpbacks," Tim said firmly, not looking up from the control panel he was fiddling with. "But they're not singing properly. They're too quiet."

Miguel raised an eyebrow, startled to hear Tim echoing his thoughts so closely. He resolved to speak to the comtech in private later.

"Could something in this area be scaring them?" Lucas wondered. "Some kind of predator?"

"Whales are at the top of the food chain, Lucas. There isn't a predator big enough to bother them except man," O'Neill responded.

"I thought Killer Whales would attack other whales," Wolenczak argued.

"If they're starving and they find a lone whale, yes, a pod of them would attack," Bridger answered. "But Orcas are rare in these waters. There are reports of Sperm Whales being attacked by Giant Squid, but they go far deeper than Humpbacks and again, not in this area."

Lucas frowned, revising his opinion. "Then it's got to be pollution of some kind," he agreed. "But why haven't they abandoned the area all together."

"That's the odd thing," Mei Ying seated herself between Miguel and Lucas, apparently unaware of the effect she was having on their hormones. "Normally if it was pollution, they would leave. That's why U.E.O. wants to investigate, because they are still here. I expected that they would have left by the time we arrived. But since they are still here, it'll allow Dr MacKenzie to test his theories."

"What theories?" Bridger said sharply, well aware of O'Neill stiffening and eyeing the young woman suspiciously.

"He believes we may be able to discover more by plotting their movements around the site to see what areas they specifically avoid and concentrating on those first."

"That seems logical," Bridger admitted, relaxing again.

"I think it would also be worthwhile to consider what might be valuable about this area."

"It's a protected site, captain," Mei Ying said sharply.

"As long as the whales are here it's a protected site," Bridger corrected her mildly. "If they stop coming here, whatever is valuable in this area comes up for grabs."

"Taking the site off the register takes years," Mei pointed out.

"True, but no one would be guarding it in the meantime. During those years the area could be stripped clean of fish or minerals or whatever else is down here," Bridger told her and turned his attention to Ortiz. "I want a mineralogical scan done, Mr Ortiz. If there's something valuable down here, then I want to know about it."

"Glorified taxi driver, that's what I am," Benjamin Krieg muttered as he glared at the controls of the Launch and steered the underwater vehicle around a rocky promontory. "Fetch this, collect that, carry the luggage."

"You're muttering, Ben," Tim said absently. He was studying the sonar display and wishing Ortiz had come along to do it. "It could be worse, you know. You could be stuck back on seaQuest."

"I like being on seaQuest. I feel safe on seaQuest. Big things don't want to eat seaQuest."

O'Neill lifted his head and gazed at him in amusement. "You don't have to worry about the Humpbacks, they won't hurt us."

"They could ram us."

"Don't be crazy. Why would they want to do that?"

"Who knows how a whale thinks?"

"Ben, they're not stupid. They couldn't hurt the launch if they did ram us. They'd only hurt themselves. Whales aren't masochists. Anyway, I thought you liked piloting."

"I do."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I'm supply and morale officer. Right now, I'm not being either. Do you know how many forms I've got to fill out today?"

"No..."

"Hundreds, that's what. Hundreds..."

"Ben..."

"Then I have to file everything and..."

"Lieutenant!"

"What?"

"Whales. Nineteen degrees to starboard."

"Why didn't you say so?" Krieg corrected his course deftly.

"I couldn't get a word in edgewise."

"That's right. Complain."

"I wasn't," Tim protested.

"Sounded like it."

"I thought Morale officers were supposed to make people feel better, not drive them into a depression!" O'Neill retorted sharply. "Don't you ever stop moaning?"

Krieg blinked in surprise and glanced at the younger man. O'Neill usually took Ben's complaints in his stride. It wasn't as if Krieg really meant them and Tim knew it. "What's the matter?" he asked softly.

"Why should there be anything the matter?" Tim snapped.

"The friendly snarl in your voice?" Ben suggested.

"What snarl?" O'Neill retorted angrily, then stopped himself. "Oh..."

"Yeah... oh. What's up?" Ben eased the launch into idle, wanting to be able to concentrate on O'Neill for a moment. "Come on; tell your friendly morale officer all about it. You've been irritable since MacKenzie came on board. The guy ruffle your telepathic fur or something?"

"How do you know it isn't Mei Ying?" O'Neill demanded.

"A Cuban spy," Ben said simply.

"Damn. Miguel told you? He promised he wouldn't! How much did he say?"

Krieg shrugged, watching Tim steadily. "Enough," he said mildly.

"Okay, so he's my Grandfather and we're having a family feud. Anything else you want to know?"

"What's the feud about?"

"My Grandfather didn't approve of my folks getting divorced. He hasn't spoken..." Tim paused and gave Krieg a suddenly suspicious look. Ben smiled innocently. "Miguel didn't tell you a word, did he?!"

"Nope. You dug your own pit, Timmy my boy. You wanted to talk and out it came."

"Damn, damn, damn." O'Neill thumped his fist against the control panel in frustration.

"Hey, if it bothers you that much I won't talk about it either. Promise," Ben said in surprise.

Tim hesitated, then nodded grudgingly. "Thanks. I'd appreciate it."

"Obviously you two aren't acknowledging each other," Ben said carefully after a moment. "Isn't that going to make it kind of difficult for you to get along?"

O'Neill laughed shakily. "I haven't even spoken to him yet. We glared at each other on the bridge and that's about it."

"Maybe you should talk to him." Ben eased the launch forward, following the course Tim had laid in on the navigational computer for him.

"Easier said than done. Besides I'm not sure I want to." Tim shifted in his seat and rubbed his fingers firmly against his temple.

"Why not?"

"I kind of resent him for what he did to us. I could have done with someone to talk to when I was growing up. I didn't exactly enjoy High School."

"Who did?" Krieg snorted.

"You probably didn't get beaten up very week."

"No, but I got transferred three times. Did you?" Ben shot a curious glance at the comtech.

"Get transferred? No."

"I meant beaten up."

"Not exactly. But I usually came close at least once a week. I developed a deep and abiding aversion to lockers."

Ben chuckled. "Didn't Miguel back you up? I thought you went to the same High School?"

"Believe it or not, Miguel was weedy little kid who kept getting into fights he couldn't win with kids who thought he was Mexican," Tim smiled faintly to himself. "Half the school thought he was the leader of some kind of gang. The rest thought he was crazy. He never quite got transferred though. What did you do?"

Ben hesitated. "Fighting the first couple of times."

"And the last time?"

"After class practical Biology lessons on school premises."

"What?"

"I got caught screwing the substitute biology teacher in the classroom." Krieg blushed as Tim gave him a wide eyed look. "Well, things kind of got out of hand. She was gorgeous and not that much older than I was."

"I always knew you were kinky, Krieg. In front of the whole class?"

"Hey, you're the one with the dirty mind. It was after school. We thought we were alone," Krieg broke off as he noticed O'Neill wince and check the cabin instruments. "What's the matter?" Krieg frowned at him.

"I think the air mixture is off. I've got a splitting headache coming. How do you feel?"

"Me? I'm fine," Krieg flicked a glance at his own instruments. "The air mixture is normal," he noted. "You want to go back?"

"For a headache? No, I'll dig out a couple of painkillers. I'll be fine."

"If you say so." Krieg gave the comtech a doubtful look as Tim edged out of his seat to fetch the medical kit, then turned his attention back to the screens. Angling the launch up and over a small sea mount he brought the launch to halt and gazed out through the view port over the sandy plain ahead. "Here be whales..." he said softly as he spotted the huge shapes ahead of them. Stately and majestic the Humpbacks were idling south, occasionally heading up to the surface to explode into the sunshine in a rainbow of water droplets. "Oh boy, they're incredible. I always get the shivers watching them."

"I thought you were worried about them ramming us," Tim muttered as he gingerly eased back into his seat, wanting to avoid jarring anything.

Ben shot an exasperated look at him. "I can change my mind, can't I?" he demanded and frowned. "You don't look too good, Tim. You sure you're okay? Your headache worse?"

Tim hesitated, rubbing his forehead slowly. "Yeah, I think it's them," he said slowly, pointing at the screens.

"The whales are giving you a headache? We'd better get out of here."

"No! We take the readings first."

"Don't be stupid," Krieg argued. "You shouldn't take risks with your empathy like that."

"I'm not, Ben, I'm feeling what they're feeling. They're not blocking, that's all."

"They have a headache? A collective headache?"

"Yes," Tim didn't dare nod.

"You know why?"

O'Neill closed his eyes and strove to concentrate for a moment. The pain shut out everything else, almost swamping him for a moment. Ben's hand closing on his arm snapped him back to full consciousness.

"Don't do that," Krieg scolded impatiently.

"I can't read them." Tim decided in frustration.

"I didn't ask you too," Ben scolded. "I'm backing us off."

"But, Ben..."

"Lieutenant," Krieg reminded him, knowing it would silence the comtech. "We'll move off to safe distance. Once you think it's bearable, we'll move off a bit further, then we'll stop and get the readings. In the meantime, you shut up and relax. I don't want to have to cope with you passing out on me."

Dr MacKenzie studied the readouts Krieg had handed him, noting the patterns of whale movements. "And you stayed with them all afternoon?"

"Yes, sir."

"They never went into this ravine area here?" MacKenzie took a step over to the desk and the sea bed chart Miguel had scanned and printed up for the scientists. He tapped the shaded lines of colour that indicated a deep ravine that bored Northwards through the ocean floor.

"No, every time they veered off." Krieg glance over at O'Neill. The comtech was lingering by the door, looking as if he had been wrung out to dry. Bridger noted the glance and gave Ben a 'what's going on?' look.

"Then this would seem to be the logical area to examine next," MacKenzie mused. "I'd better go and see what Mei Ying has come up with." Gathering up the chart, the scientist breezed out of the Ready Room without even acknowledging his grandson. Tim sagged the moment he was out of sight and tottered towards to the nearest chair. Bridger caught him as his knees went and Ben swiftly hauled the chair over to him.

"I knew we were too close," Krieg muttered angrily.

"Too close to the whales?" Bridger grasped the point quickly. "All right, tell me the rest. Tim, did you read something off those whales? You've been warned against that."

"I didn't read them exactly!" Tim protested. "They were broadcasting."

"Broadcasting what?"

"Pain," Ben said grimly, scowling at O'Neill. "I warned him but he wouldn't listen."

"I'm okay, it's only a headache. We had to get the readings. Their songs were odd."

Bridger straightened up and sighed. "The readings could have waited. We could have sent someone else out. Tim, you can't take risks with your talent. I've told you that., Savannah's told you that, Westphalan's told you that, Levine's told you that..."

"I told you that," Ben added.

"Everyone's told me that," O'Neill murmured. "Sir, I have got the point. But, really, it didn't damage me. Only made me a little uncomfortable. I didn't feel that I could leave them."

Nathan winced slightly and turned away. "Look, kid, I know your ability insists on you doing what you can to help, but you have to impose limits or you'll burn yourself out." Bridger turned to frown at the younger man. "That isn't what you want is it?"

O'Neill didn't answer for a moment. "No, sir," he said finally. "Captain, I think I learned something that might help us. Whenever the Humpbacks started to approach the ravine I got a rise from their distress levels."

"His headache got worse," Ben elucidated.

"And eased off when they moved away," Tim said hastily, shooting a quick glare at Ben as Bridger frowned in disapproval.

"You didn't tell MacKenzie that," the captain said quietly.

O'Neill squirmed and looked at his feet. "It's a hunch, sir. And, with all due respect, I don't want him to know where the information came from. Or how."

"Doesn't he know about your talent?"

"I wouldn't have thought so, sir. What few indications there were when I was a kid, weren't too well received by my father. And I figure my Grandfather is likely to have the same attitude as my father. Down with psi powers. Burn them at the stake."

Nathan put a sympathetic hand on the comtech's shoulder and winced as he caught the flicker of a hastily curled pain tendril being withdrawn. "Well, the information may be useful so we'll have to figure out a way to excuse how we got it. In the meantime, Lt Krieg? Walk Mr O'Neill down to Medbay and get him checked over by Westphalan and Levine."

"And Levine?" Tim looked up in dismay and Nathan grinned at him. They both knew what Levine was like when he got close to a problem relating to ESP. abilities of any kind. He would question Tim down to his toes to find out what had happened.

"And Levine," the captain said firmly. "And no side trips, lieutenant. If this investigation is going to hurt you in any way, you're on the first launch out of here."

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," Tim muttered into his milkshake at dinner a couple of hours later. Westphalan had warned him off the coffee for the rest of the day. "It was only a headache."

"An empathic headache," Ben corrected. "And you didn't see the way you looked. There's white and there's white. You'd practically turned albino."

"Stop exaggerating."

"I wish I was."

"The point is, has it gone?" Miguel asked, interrupting his friends' bickering.

"Yes," Tim said firmly.

"Sure? You look kind of shaky," Ortiz said carefully, knowing to his cost how touchy O'Neill could be.

"Westphalan stuffed so many pills down me I'm surprised I don't rattle," Tim grumbled in response. "It's gone and all I feel is tired out."

"You need an early night and someone like Magee to tuck you in," Miguel teased.

"Well, the early night maybe," Tim agreed with a wan smile, much to Ortiz' surprise. "The captain's planning on sending me out with Lucas tomorrow to take a look at this ravine. I think he wants to keep me away from my Grandfather."

Miguel shot an uneasy glance at Krieg who smiled amiably at the Cuban around a mouthful of chicken. "It's okay, Mig, Ben conned me into telling him." Tim murmured, noticing the glance.

"I did not con you!"

"So why did I tell you?"

"The whales distracted you," Krieg lied.

"No, you told me Miguel had told you."

"He did what?" Ortiz said indignantly. "And you believed him?"

"Only for a second," Tim said quickly.

"That's not the point!"

"I didn't actually say he told me, I only let you think he had," Ben corrected and broke off as he spotted who had strolled into the Ward Room. Dr Mackenzie gave them a disapproving look as he steered Mei Ying past them.

Tim flinched and closed his mouth with a snap, not even needing to turn round to know who was there. "I've got to get out of here," he muttered, silencing the spluttering Miguel.

"Don't let him run you off," Ortiz protested. "You've got as much right to be here as he has."

"No, that's not it," Tim said shakily, gingerly touching his temples. "It aches."

"You're hyper sensitive," Ortiz guessed.

"Yeah, that's what Levine said."

"You want me to walk you back to your quarters?" Miguel slid a look over at Mei Ying, noticing she had on a tight skirt that showed off her legs now. He wanted to stay and watch, but his loyalty to O'Neill came first.

"No, I'll be okay. You guys stay and finish dinner." Tim smiled faintly at the look on Miguel's face as he pushed to his feet. "I'll see you..." Krieg lunged and caught O'Neill as the comtech buckled at the knees.

"Steady there, Tim," he soothed as Miguel leaped to his feet and came up on the other side. "You want to sit down again?"

"No." Taking a deep breath, Tim straightened up. "I was a little dizzy for a second." He stopped, suddenly realising who was standing over them. MacKenzie eyed his grandson anxiously for a moment, then turned his gaze on Krieg.

"Is everything all right here, gentlemen?"

"Fine." O'Neill shoved away from his friends. "If you'll excuse me." As the comtech wobbled unsteadily towards the doors, Ben and Miguel looked at each other.

"I'll go," Ortiz said abruptly and trotted after his friend, all thoughts of women vanishing from his mind.

"There is something wrong, isn't there?" MacKenzie said uneasily. "What is it, lieutenant?"

"If Tim wants you to know, I dare say he'll tell you," Krieg answered flatly.

"Does he normally feel dizzy? Was there an accident on the launch?"

He's actually worried about him, Ben realised. "No, sir. It's nothing to worry about. The whales were...uh, a little loud I guess." Realising he was saying the wrong thing, Krieg veered off frantically. "How's the research going?"

MacKenzie gave him an odd look and motioned back to where Mei Ying was waiting with a slightly worried expression. "Why don't you join us, lieutenant, we'll tell you what we've found out so far."

"So what do you think of them?" Lucas asked into the hush of the launch's cockpit the following morning. He was getting bored with O'Neill's contemplative concentration on the controls.

"Think of who?" Tim was piloting and answered absently. He wasn't really listening to the teenager; most of him was concentrating on the controls while a tiny subconscious part of his mind wandered off looking warily for whales.

"The scientists."

"They're okay. They seem to know what they're doing."

"Mei Ying is gorgeous," Lucas sighed wistfully.

"And about ten years older than you are," Tim pointed out, studying the readouts his screen was giving him.

"She's a couple of years older than Ortiz too," Lucas snorted.

"That's Miguel's business."

"Then why isn't what I do, my business?" Lucas demanded hotly.

"You had your eighteenth birthday yet?"

"You know I haven't!"

"Well, when you have your eighteenth birthday you'll be old enough to do most of what you want. In the meantime, be glad we all look out for you." Lucas scowled at his instruments, sulking. Tim could sense his mental fizzing. "Look at it this way; at least you're on seaQuest doing things most teenagers would kill to do."

"Big deal. Sometimes I think I'd like to leave seaQuest all together," Lucas muttered.

"What's your hurry? The world isn't going anywhere. Enjoy life while you don't have any responsibilities."

"How can I when the entire crew thinks I'm their kid brother and my parents ignore me?"

Tim flinched very slightly. "Your parents are doing what they think is best for you," he said flatly. "This is a better environment for you than some I can think of. I wouldn't have minded being stuck on seaQuest at your age."

Lucas considered this, then slid out of the sonar station chair and eased into the co-pilot's seat. "Your parents got divorced, didn't they?" he asked awkwardly.

"Yes," O'Neill said shortly.

"Did you see them very often?"

"I didn't see my father very often," Tim flicked a glance at Lucas, reading his tense expression. "I don't get on very well with my father. He expects too much and wants it done his way."

"Sounds a bit like mine. And your Grandfather?"

Tim froze. Somehow he had known this was coming. "Who told you?" he asked stiffly.

"I over heard you and Ortiz talking. I won't say anything."

"You'd better not, you can get into a lot of trouble eavesdropping."

Lucas shrugged. "No-one tells me anything. How else am I supposed to know what's going on?"

"If you're supposed to know, you'll be told," Tim replied coldly.

"Why don't you want to talk about your Grandfather?" Lucas asked inquisitively.

"Why don't you want to talk about your parents?"

"At least he's here."

"Only because he didn't know I was," Tim retorted. "Look, could you concentrate on reading these instruments? We're about to enter the ravine and I'd like to know what's lying in wait for us."

Lucas slid round in his seat to study the main screen and scowl. "These readings aren't very clear," he complained.

O'Neill glanced over at the flickering screen and frowned. "Must be a loose connection somewhere." He leaned over and smacked his fist against the panel, nodding in satisfaction as it brightened and cleared obediently.

"Are you supposed to do that?" Lucas asked doubtfully. He was a firm believer in taking a screwdriver to anything that dared to give him trouble.

"Percussive maintenance, Lucas. Commander Ford does it all the time," O'Neill said cheerfully and turned his attention back to steering the launch carefully between the spires of rock that guarded the entrance to the ravine.

"Energy readings, lieutenant," Lucas said promptly, becoming briskly efficient. "Looks like a power plant of some kind."

"That's weird. There are no settlements registered in this area that I know of."

"Raiders?" Lucas shot a worried look at the officer. He didn't like admitting it but the ruthless Sea Raiders who preyed on shipping and underwater settlements of all kinds frightened the wits out of him.

O'Neill shook his head. "Unlikely. This area is too regularly visited for their liking. Check and see if there's a supply depot listed."

Lucas turned his attention to the computer and tapped in the request. "Got it," he announced smugly after a few seconds. "It's a North Pacific Association supply depot. Currently unmanned. It's occasionally occupied by scientists studying the Humpbacks. Hey, we could put a team of our own down here."

"Maybe. Do a thorough scan, Lucas. See what you can find out about this base."

"There's no-one here, Tim." Lucas protested, none too keen on the boring task.

"Do it anyway." Tim reached up to the radio above him.

"seaQuest, this is MR5. Do you copy?"

"This is seaQuest. Reading you strength five, lieutenant," Magee's pleasantly furry voice answered cheerfully. "I have Commander Ford for you."

"There are some pretty weird modifications been done here," Wolenczak murmured.

"Modifications?" Tim glanced at the screen, understanding Lucas's annoyed grunt at the images flicked and fuzzed. "Where?"

"All the way around. There, see..." Lucas tapped a finger against the screen as it cleared for a moment. He glanced at nervously at O'Neill. "You know, they look like..."

"Missile launchers! Strap in!" O'Neill whirled the launch round in as tight a turn as Lucas had ever seen the bulky vehicles do and sent the craft hurtling back along the ravine.

"They've launched!" Lucas yelped in fright. "Tim!"

"Hang on! I'm doing the best I can."

"MR5? MR5?!" Ford's voice crackled impatiently from the speaker. "Answer me, O'Neill!"

Lucas fumbled with his seat straps with one hand and reached for the radio with the other. "Commander! We've been fired on. We've got missiles on our tail! We're running for..."

"Lucas? Lucas! O'Neill!" Ford yelled into the microphone as Wolenczak's voice abruptly cut off and the hiss of static echoed onto seaQuest's bridge. "Damn it! One of you answer me!" The static suddenly stopped. "Magee?"

"Sorry, sir. I've lost the signal." The brunette's fingers skimmed frantically across her console, seeking to re-establish contact without success.

"Have you got a location on them?"

"I'm doing my best, sir, but there's an awful lot of rock in the way."

"Ortiz!" Ford swung towards the sensor bay, ignoring the shock on the Cuban's face. "Get your WSKRS out there and find them. Helm, bring us about." Jonathan rattled off the course that would track the one the launch had taken, then swung back to the intercom.

"I find it difficult to believe that you could believe a dolphin to be as intelligent as a man," MacKenzie said as he perched on the edge of the moon pool and studied Darwin thoughtfully. Darwin ducked under the water and blew a spray of bubbles at him before swimming away in disgust.

"Sometimes I think they're more intelligent than a man," Bridger said wryly. "You've heard him talk. Can you think of another species that you can hold a conversation with?"

"Now, Nathan, you've already admitted that you don't actually converse with Darwin. He answers your questions. He doesn't tell you anything. He doesn't discuss his world. He can't explain his society."

"Perhaps dolphins don't feel the need to analyze everything they do and say. They're content to exist as they are. Why should they tell us anything?"

"Why not?" MacKenzie asked.

"Privacy," Nathan suggested. "Do you explain your motivations for every thing you do?"

"If dolphins have the psi abilities that you say they do, then they must sense how frustrating it is for us not to know," MacKenzie pointed out.

"That's true. But knowing what we say and do is hurting someone, doesn't always make us stop it," Bridger said deliberately.

MacKenzie considered this for a moment. "That was aimed at me, wasn't it?" he said finally. "You're curious about my relationship with my grandson."

"I don't like to see O'Neill being treated the way he is. He's a good officer and a fine young man. But apparently he didn't have much help from you in turning out that way."

"You wouldn't understand, captain. I'm a staunch Catholic. When my daughter agreed to the divorce it went against everything I believed in. There was nothing else I could do."

"So you denied your daughter and your grandson your support when they needed it most. No wonder Tim resents you. "

"Does he?"

Nathan wasn't sure whether MacKenzie was hurt or surprised by his remark. "What else did you expect? You hurt him and you hurt Ginny. He probably didn't understand why. Kids tend to believe that kind of thing is all their fault. I can barely understand why you cut Ginny off, but your grandson didn't do anything. You could at least talk to him now."

A fine spray of water washed over both men as Darwin surfaced and chirruped at them. Lucas dark. Tim dark, the vocoder translated.

"And what does that mean?" MacKenzie asked in astonishment.

"I'm not sure." Bridger headed uneasily for the intercom and got there as Ford's voice came on. "Yes, commander. What is it?"

"We've lost the launch. Lucas reported they had missiles after them."

"Do we have a location on them?"

"Not yet," Ford admitted ruefully. "We have the WSKRS out and we're heading for their last reported position. They must have entered the ravine but I'm not sure how far in they got."

"I'm coming to the bridge. Prepare a search pattern for the speeders." Bridger turned back to the Moon Pool.

"The launch?" MacKenzie had paled in alarm. "My grandson?"

"We've lost contact with them." Bridger slapped the water surface until Darwin came up under his hands. "Darwin, go. Find Lucas. Find Tim."

Tim mind dark, Darwin complained.

"I know. Do your best, my friend."

Darwin out. Darwin find friends.

"Good boy." Relieved, Nathan thumped the door control and turned back to MacKenzie. The scientist watched Darwin swim swiftly out of the moon pool and then frowned at Bridger.

"He's going to look for them?"

"Darwin can usually find Tim wherever he is," Nathan replied carefully. "Would you like to come up to the bridge with me? Ford's starting a search pattern."

Someone was singing deep inside his mind, gentle and consoling and utterly sympathetic as the voice nudged him back towards consciousness.

Tim woke up with a groan of pain, stunned to find himself lying flat on the deck. Moving brought a screech of pain out of him as the arm he had doubled underneath his ribs turned out to be broken. Swearing under his breath, Tim closed his eyes and concentrated on forcing the pain down under control before he dared to look around him again. Lucas was slumped over his console, hanging loosely in his seat straps, but Tim could hear his breathing.

Next time, strap yourself in too, O'Neill scolded himself as he set about moving. Straightening his arm out was sheer torture, but finally it was done and he could sit up with the damaged limb balanced across his knees. The bone was snapped halfway along his forearm and the one time he looked, he could see the bulge under the skin.

A vibrating croon ran through his mind, pulling him back from his drift towards shock and he looked up at the view port. A Humpback was hanging outside, nose down and long knobbed flippers caressing the water in steady movements. The bull rumbled again, turning lazily over onto his side and modulating his song. Tim sensed relief and joy flip through his mind before he was released again.

Grabbing the back of the pilot's seat, Tim clawed his way upright and bent over Lucas. The teenager was still breathing, but there was a beautiful purple bruise coming across his forehead and his face was masked by blood. Tim eased him back into his seat and braced the youth's head with his jacket, grateful that the youth's breathing immediately improved as he was eased out of his cramped position. Then he fell into his own seat. Perspiration was running down his back as he studied the instruments.

Hull integrity was okay. Well, he had guessed that since they were breathing air and not water. Power was off line. The computer was down. And the air recycler was out of action.

As Tim felt a stab of fear lick through him, the Humpback crooned reassuringly again, still not leaving its position over the launch. "Oh..." Tim gazed wide eyed up at the graceful creature looming over him protectively, then smiled and reached for the radio.

"Captain! I've got Lt. O'Neill!" Magee's excited yelp brought the captain to her side in a hurry as she put the call up on screen. A grainy picture appeared over the somewhat hunched looking young comtech.

"O'Neill?" Bridger asked, wondering if the lieutenant could hear him.

"Hi, captain," Tim gave the older man a shaky smile. "Sorry, we cut you off. We got an RC10 up our engine tubes."

"Are you and Lucas okay?"

O'Neill glanced at the co-pilot's seat. "Lucas is out cold, sir. The launch is pretty banged up. No power at all. And our air recycler is out."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

Bridger smiled faintly. Tim looked dazed. "Yes, you. Are you hurt?"

"I think my arm's broken," O'Neill said after a moment. "Other than that, I think I'm okay."

"Where exactly are you?"

"Uh, I'm not sure," Tim looked at the navigational display in front of him and smiled weakly. "But you can't miss us. I've got a Humpback for a babysitter."

"He's delirious," MacKenzie said in alarm, having followed Bridger to communications. Nathan gave him an odd look.

"No, with O'Neill that is the literal truth. Whales like him." Bridger turned back to his communications officer. "Okay, Tim, sit tight. We'll be with you in a few minutes."

"Yes, sir. Oh, by the way, Darwin's arrived. Did you send him to find us?"

"He was worried. Stay on line, Tim." Bridger glanced down at the brunette ensign beside him. "Home in on his frequency. Ortiz?"

Miguel was hovering at the edge of his bay, watching anxiously. Once his initial shock had passed he had started to recognise that he could 'feel' Tim was still alive. A hunch based on the tentative empathic link he shared with his friend though wasn't something he would freely admit to anyone. Let alone trust it to be the truth. "Yes, sir?"

"See if you can find us a lone Humpback. The launch is near by."

"Aye sir." Miguel scrambled back to his console. It could be guaranteed he wouldn't miss a single relevant blip.

Nathan nodded in satisfaction at the smooth efficiency of his crew and turned his attention back to O'Neill. For now the best thing he could do was keep talking to reassure O'Neill until they could get help to him and Lucas. Bridger only hoped Lucas wasn't as seriously hurt as he feared.

"Lieutenant, you are really not helping," Westphalan scolded impatiently as she put one hand on Tim's chest and propelled the young officer backwards across Medbay to the examination table. "Now, I told you to sit there and be quiet."

"But Lucas..."

"Sit!" Westphalan snapped. Tim sat and gave her a forlorn look, cradling his battered sling bound arm close. "Let me finish examining Lucas, and then I'll fix your arm," she told him gently, then caught hold of his chin and gave him a little shake. "Don't worry, Tim. He's conscious. I won't be long. Why don't you lie down and rest for a minute?"

Tim sighed and surrendered, reluctantly settling down on the examination table while Westphalan headed back to the cubicle where Lucas was. They had given Tim a strong pain killer on the rescue launch and he wasn't really feeling much of anything except a faintly pleasant buzz. He let himself drift for a while and the next thing he knew there was stab of pain in his arm that woke him up fully.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry," Westphalan apologised as she finished carefully removing the sling. "I thought you were asleep."

"Nearly. Lucas?"

"He has a mild concussion and needs to rest. He'll be fine. Now let's see what we can do for you. That hurt?"

"Yesss!" Tim hissed, resisting the urge to pull away from her fingers. "Don't do it again."

"It's a nasty break, Tim, you're lucky it wasn't worse. I'll give you something to take the swelling down and another painkiller, then I'll set it for you. You'll have to wear a brace for a few days, but there's no reason you can't go back on watch."

"Good."

"Unless there's someone you want to avoid," Kristen went on mildly.

Tim eyed her warily. "Such as who?"

"Dr MacKenzie, your grandfather?"

"You know?"

"Let's say I put two and two together. Don't forget I get on quite well with Ginny. Sit still now." Westphalan headed for the drugs cabinet.

"She told you?" Tim forgot about his arm for a moment and yelped in pain as he twisted to follow her movement.

"I warned you to sit still," Kristen said dryly.

"Does everyone on this boat know?" Tim asked the air in frustration as he caught his breath.

"I believe there are a couple of ensigns in engineering who don't," Westphalan teased. "Oh come on, Tim, don't look so serious. He's your grandfather, not some monster from the deeps. There are worse family secrets than not talking to each other. If I was you, I wouldn't let him get away with it any more." Westphalan came back to the table with a small tray and a pair of pre-filled hyposprays.

"Sorry?" Tim eyed her in confusion. The shock and pain was starting to get under his defences by now and he was starting to feel distinctly groggy.

Kristen glanced up at him and smiled. "You're not a little boy, Tim; you don't have to do what he says any more. Go and talk to him. It's his ethics that are keeping you apart. I would have thought you're eloquent enough to argue the rights and wrongs of his view point. Even if you can't come to some kind of agreement, you may be able to understand why he did it."

Carefully programming the information from the WSKRS into the console, Ortiz was the first to notice Tim when he appeared in the lab hatchway. Punching the save key on the computer, Miguel glanced over at MacKenzie and Mei Ying. They were both intent on the reports of the launch survey of the day before. He slid to his feet and trotted over to meet O'Neill.

"You okay now, Tim? You looked lousy earlier. Westphalan wouldn't let me come down to see you."

"I'm fine," Tim smiled at his friend tiredly.

"Sure you are," Ortiz commented sarcastically and gave him a sceptical look. "How's Lucas?"

"Mild concussion and lapping up all the attention. Bridger's with him."

"You look like you could do with some TLC too. You want to come and have some coffee? I'm due a break."

"Um, no," Tim slid a look at MacKenzie. "Do me a favour and get lost for a while, Miguel."

"You want to talk to him?"

The dubious note in Ortiz' voice made Tim smile again. "I think it's about time one of us made the effort, don't you? I'm sure you can manage to distract Mei Ying for a while, couldn't you?"

"It'll be a terrible hardship, but I guess so," Miguel smirked. "Mei Ying? Lt. O'Neill would like to speak to Dr MacKenzie in private."

"Oh, very subtle, Mig. That had real finesse," Tim muttered.

Miguel snorted. "I know your family, remember. Hitting you with a blunt instrument is the only way to get your attention at times."

"Lt. O'Neill, I'm glad to see you're feeling better," Mei Ying said as she approached. If she noticed the way the two officers were glaring at each other, she ignored it. "How's Lucas?"

"A little groggy, but okay."

"Would you like to have coffee with me, Mei Ying?" Ortiz interrupted politely.

"I'd rather go and see Lucas if you don't mind, Miguel," the scientist replied.

"Oh, right," Miguel shot an exasperated look at O'Neill as the comtech grinned. "I'll walk you down to Medbay," he continued as he followed the Vietnamese woman out.

"That really isn't necessary, you know. I can find my own way," Mei Ying responded as Tim pushed the hatch shut behind them and turned to look at his Grandfather. MacKenzie was gazing at him steadily and for a split second, Tim caught a flicker of friendly concern before the older man turned away. Taking a steadying breath, Tim walked over to the desk.

"What can I do for you, lieutenant?" MacKenzie asked with deliberate politeness.

"I think being civil means you calling me by my first name," Tim said dryly as he sat down without waiting to be asked. He figured he would have a long wait if he waited for an invitation. "Assuming you remember it."

His Grandfather gave him a sharp look. "Of course I remember it. What do you prefer these days? Timothy? Timmy?"

"Tim will do fine."

"Not your middle name? Not MacKenzie?"

"I don't have much reason to be fond of it," Tim said shortly.

"No, I don't suppose you do," MacKenzie sighed almost ruefully. "Believe me, it wasn't an easy decision for me to make, Tim. But I believed it was the right one."

"It wasn't an easy decision for Mom to take either," Tim replied coolly. "But she believed it was the right one too."

"Your mother understood how I felt."

"I didn't," Tim said sadly.

"You weren't old enough to understand."

"I was old enough to understand how you hurt her and me."

MacKenzie met Tim's hazel eyes and smiled wistfully. "You look like your mother, did you know that?"

"I look like my father," Tim said flatly. "You never got on with him either, which is surprising considering what hypocrites you both are."

"What?!" MacKenzie pulled out of his fond reminiscences and focused on Tim anew.

"My father claimed he didn't believe in divorce. Now he's married again. You taught me that the family was everything, the one thing you could count on. Only, suddenly, when we needed you, you weren't there." Tim shook his head, staring at the brace on his left hand as all the hurt of abandonment churned inside him again. "It was bad enough that he wasn't there any more, but you didn't seem to want me either and that really hurt. It took me a long time to understand it wasn't me or my...or anything I'd done."

"Or your what?" MacKenzie asked gently, hearing something left unsaid.

"Mom taught me to have faith," Tim said softly, ignoring the question. "But she taught me to think for myself too. Sometimes you have to adjust what you believe in to fit the facts. You can't pretend the divorce didn't happen or that Mom and I don't exist when you know we do. You can't change it. Isn't it time you got used to the idea? Mom would love to see you again."

"Are you asking for yourself or Ginny?" MacKenzie asked dryly.

"Both of us," Tim said truthfully. "And Grandma. You make Grandma really mad at times."

MacKenzie blinked. He knew his wife had stayed in touch with her daughter and frequently visited her despite his disapproval. The idea that his plump, soft spoken wife might still object to his disapproval hadn't occurred to him in a very long time. It was a long unresolved argument that was rarely raised these days. "Tim, divorce goes against the way I was raised, it denies the principles of my faith " he said slowly. "I still love Ginny and you very much."

"But not enough to change," Tim said bitterly. He pushed unsteadily to his feet. "You obviously understand fish better than you do people. Whatever happened to forgiveness?"

MacKenzie hesitated, sensing the deep hurt in his grandson. "I didn't make the rules," he said sadly. "Ask the priests."

"Rules depend on the interpretation of their meaning the same as any language. You can bend them to say anything you want." Tim locked eyes with the older man, startling MacKenzie with the strength of spirit in Tim. "All people are fallible. It isn't for us, for you, to say what's wrong and right. In the end it comes down to what's right for the individual soul. I don't think two people having to be miserable for the rest of their lives because of a mistake is right. It's as much a sin to hurt someone so you can feel righteous as anything my folks did in getting a divorce. Why don't you ask the priests about that!"

The flare of temper in Tim's eyes made MacKenzie sit back and gaze at his grandson thoughtfully. "You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"Of course I have. I was raised a Catholic. I believe marriage should be forever, but only if it's the right one. If it's the one we were destined for, then it will last forever."

MacKenzie smiled at Tim's confidence, but before he could attempt to further the philosophical point, they were interrupted.

"Hey, O'Neill, I've been looking for you everywhere."

Tim gazed blankly at the scruffy bearded man who had appeared at the hatch. "Not here, you haven't," he pointed out after a second. "What do you want me for anyway?"

"It's test time, remember? I'm supposed to monitor your results."

"Now? Levine, I'm really not in the mood," Tim protested, glancing at his damaged wrist.

"What kind of test?" MacKenzie asked with a stab of alarm and gave his grandson an anxious look. "Tim? Is something wrong?" Tim gazed back silently, puzzled by his reaction.

"Nothing to worry about," Levine assured MacKenzie amiably as he came into the lab and zeroed in on O'Neill. "I'm monitoring Tim here for Lambda variant patterns. You must be Dr MacKenzie. We haven't been introduced."

"Hmmm?" Tim caught the look Levine gave him and hastily spoke up. "Dr MacKenzie, this is Dr Levine."

"Ship's shrink, psychologist and paranormal expert," Levine qualified, shaking hands with the Scot.

"Paranormal expert?" MacKenzie queried.

"I have a special interest in psi abilities," Levine said giving Tim a sly look.

"Okay, okay. I'll come," O'Neill said quickly. "But I don't know why."

"Kristen said you had a close encounter with a Humpback."

"So? I didn't get a headache this time."

"Exactly. Why didn't you get a headache?"

"The whale had been doing his Yoga exercises? Come on, Levine, I don't know!"

"But we want to find out, don't we?" Levine said smugly.

"You want to find out, I don't," Tim corrected.

"Then come along with me, my little psychic barometer, and we'll see what's going on. Excuse us, Dr MacKenzie. Nice meeting you."

MacKenzie nodded absently and watched Levine shepherd Tim from the laboratory. He knew perfectly well that Lambda variant patterns were usually associated with telepathic behaviour patterns, but was surprised to find the scientist monitoring his grandson for them. Especially since Tim seemed extremely unwilling to even discuss such a talent. It hadn't escaped his notice that Tim hadn't mentioned their relationship either. And that hurt more than he had expected it to.

"Tim, this will be over much sooner if you lie still," Levine said dryly as he studied his computer monitor in his office. "Why are you so tense today? This doesn't normally bother you this much. These readings are wandering all over the place."

"My arm's bothering me."

"Sure it's your arm and not your grandfather?"

Tim rolled over and glared at him. "Does every one know that?" he demanded impatiently.

Levine flicked a mild glance at him. "No. Would you please lie down again?" O'Neill scowled and flopped back on the couch. With a patient sigh, Levine readjusted the settings Tim's movement had disturbed. "In answer to your question, I know he's your grandfather because he's in your medical records."

"He's what?!"

"Tim, if you don't stop emoting like a fire cracker I'll never figure out which is the normal you and which is Lambda activity. Lie still!"

"Sorry," Tim muttered irritably. "Why's he in my medical records?"

"You were psi profiled at the Academy and read fairly high, weren't you?"

"I was ungraded," Tim muttered.

"You have an unusual talent that they couldn't categorise. Standard practice is to check back and see if anyone else in your family line had a like profile."

"And he does?" Tim asked nervously.

"Does that worry you?"

"Stop being a shrink and answer my question first."

"The answer's no. His profile doesn't match yours. I don't have access to his results. It's classified. If you want to know, you'd have to ask him. Now lie still and think pleasant thoughts."

Tim sighed and closed his eyes. Levine would only nag until he did what he wanted. The quickest way to get out of it was to obey. Most times nothing showed up anyway.

Ortiz nibbled his lower lip nervously as he steered the WSKR gingerly over the tip of the rocky spire and brought it to a halt, relying on the rock to shelter its sonar signature from the missile launchers of the base ahead.

"Increase magnification," Ford said quietly into his ear, studying the screen above the console every bit as intently as the sensor chief. Miguel let his fingertips dance on the keyboard and the images suddenly leaped closer.

"O'Neill was right," Miguel breathed, illogically afraid that if he raised his voice the launchers would hear him and destroy his electronic spy in revenge. "RC10 missiles. Remote control drones. They're heat and motion sensitive."

Ford straightened up and eased the kink out of his back with a lazy stretch. "They must be set to pick up approaching vessels or they wouldn't have fired on the launch," he mused.

Miguel left the WSKR parked where it was and reached for a secondary display screen on the console itself. He called up the original blueprints for the base and frowned. "They're a modification, commander. Not on the original specifications. They must have been installed since the last inspection."

"When was that?" Ford asked suspiciously.

"A couple of months ago," Ortiz frowned and turned his attention back to his WSKR, fiddling with the sensors.

"RC10 missiles have been superseded by the new model," Hitchcock commented from her own position. "The N.P.A. wouldn't be fitting them in the last couple of months. And certainly not programming them to fire on vessels approaching a supply base. There's something odd going on here."

"These things must have been installed real fast, commander. I've seen better wiring in a Hot Shop." Ortiz had angled the WSKR into a new position for a better view of the launchers.

"Ortiz, please don't tell me about your dubious past, I don't want to know," Ford said dryly.

"Never saw a hot car in my life, sir," Miguel said, his innocent reply belied by the twinkle in his eyes.

"The captain wants to get a look inside that base and we have to get past those launchers. So, what do we do?" Katie asked. "Throw a couple of torpedoes at them?"

"I'm sure Phillips would love that, but we can't fire on the base without due provocation."

"Firing on MR5 wasn't due provocation?" Ortiz snorted before he could stop himself.

"At the time, maybe, but not after the event." Ford frowned at him. "We don't know that these missiles were deliberately set to attack approaching vessels. They could be malfunctioning or misprogrammed. Firing on this base is destroying N.P.A. property. We can't do that."

"What can we do then?" Ortiz wanted to know.

Jonathan considered for a moment, then gave the sensor chief a wolfish smile that made Miguel eye him nervously. "You know the way you and O'Neill play tag with the WSKRS when you're bored? Well, now's your chance to do it for real. Decoy those missiles while Hitchcock takes the Hyper-reality probe in to disconnect the launchers."

Miguel groaned and turned back to his board. Playing tag with an armed missile was not his idea of a fun way to spend his afternoon.

"Sorry, Miguel," Ford said with a total lack of sympathy. "But at least they'll go out in a blaze of glory."

"Very funny, commander, very funny. But you can explain it to the captain."

"Are you still sulking?" Tim asked softly two hours later as he eased into the seat beside the Cuban. Once the launchers had been deactivated, Bridger had decided to lead a technical crew aboard the base to discover what was going on. Ortiz hadn't been able to detect any life signs on the base, either by thermographic or motion scan.

Miguel glanced up with an irritated scowl in response to O'Neill's question. "I never sulk," he retorted.

"Emote bad vibes then," Tim corrected teasingly.

"I don't do that either."

"Don't lie to an empath," Tim scolded lightly.

"You're not an empath. Yet," Ortiz snorted, startled that O'Neill had made the comment at all and for a split second distracted from his own annoyance.

"It was only one little WSKR," O'Neill pointed out, knowing what was bothering his friend.

"Only one WSKR?" Miguel growled, disgusted. "That's like saying it was only your little finger that was cut off. Do you have any idea of how much you'd miss your little finger? You want me to demonstrate?"

"Bad tempered as well as sulky."

Ortiz glared at the comtech, feeling the first twitch of a rueful smile forming.

"I'm sure Bridger will let you have another pet to play with to replace it," Tim continued amiably.

"Him," Miguel said firmly. "Fruitloop was a him."

"Fruitloop?!" O'Neill stared at the Cuban in disbelief. "You called a highly sophisticated, technical piece of equipment like a WSKR, Fruitloop?"

"Well, he had a couple of loose chips when we got him. He did strange things until I fixed him," Miguel muttered, embarrassed.

Tim shook his head. "And you sex them too? What do you do? Keep them segregated so they don't breed?"

Miguel gave in and grinned. "Okay, okay. So it was only a WSKR."

"Right. You shouldn't anthropomorphize them by naming them."

"This is from the guy who names his Bonsai trees?"

"That's different. At least they're alive."

Across the launch, Crocker glanced up at them and smiled to himself. Despite the way O'Neill and Ortiz always seemed to be bickering he knew as well as everyone else did on seaQuest, that the apparently mismatched pair were more like brothers then friends. Miguel had been badly shaken when they lost the launch and he needed time to recover from the fright he had received. Crocker knew that Bridger knew that. If he hadn't, he could have easily left Ortiz behind on the bridge.

Hitchcock's voice came on over the speaker, announcing that they had reached the base and were approaching the airlock. Crocker belted his safety restraint and glanced across at the two younger men to make sure that they weren't so involved in their squabbling as to ignore the warning. They were both strapping in obediently. Seeing the Security chief watching them, Ortiz grinned.

"Maybe now we'll find out what's really going on down here."

Crocker was the first to ease through the door into the control centre of the base. The lights flickered on as sensors registered his presence, he swung his disrupter carefully around him, checking every corner and behind every dusty console until he was sure the room was empty. Ortiz watched from the doorway, disrupter rifle held ready.

"All clear," Crocker announced finally and nodded to the Cuban to relax. Ortiz nodded back and padded inside to start checking the consoles.

"Doesn't look like this place has been cleaned in a while," Hitchcock noted with a lady like sniff at all the dust. She settled at the main engineering console and tapped in her security code.

O'Neill instinctively took the communications console opposite the dark haired engineer. "Yeuch, cobwebs!" he commented in real disgust as he prodded the sticky silk strands attached to the screen.

"Don't disturb too much dirt. It plays havoc with the equipment," Katie warned absently, immersed in her displays and ignoring the filthy look Tim gave her.

Ortiz had picked the security station to settle at. "Looks like someone' been tampering with the security systems," he announced as Crocker leaned over his shoulder.

"Can you tell who?" Bridger had been watching them gravitate to their own specialities with amusement, now he moved over to stand behind Ortiz.

"I'm not a computer expert, captain, but there are a lot of new sub programmes been added to the routine."

"O'Neill? You might have better luck from your log in." With Lucas laid up in Medbay, the comtech was their next best bet and his security rating was higher than either Lucas's or Miguel's.

"Let me tap into the Datanet and I'll see what I can find, sir," Tim answered quickly. "Commander?"

"I'm not running anything, Tim. Go ahead." Hitchcock gave him a smile and turned her attention back to accessing the base layout and records.

Tim wiped the cobwebs off his screen with a grimace, cleaned his fingers on his leg, then tapped into his own keyboard. "Last data entry registered as three months ago," he read off as Bridger came over to look over his shoulder. "New sub routines added for security reasons. That's a missile programme, captain." The screen revealed a flickering data display of numbers and diagrams. "It's been added to control the MR10 launchers."

"I knew they were modifications," Hitchcock said eagerly, looking up. "How are they set?"

O'Neill called off the settings. "Anything larger than twenty feet, registering life signs or thermographic readings."

"You don't get many boats smaller than that," Crocker commented darkly. "That was set to get anyone approaching the base."

"Anyone or anything," Bridger murmured.

"Sir?" Tim glanced up at him curiously.

"It would fire on a whale too," Nathan said grimly, touching one hand lightly to the younger man's shoulder in silent reassurance. "What else can you find?"

O'Neill shivered and turned back to the computer. He had liked whales since he was little and as he grew older and came into contact with an assortment of cetacean he had started to believe that they were, in their own way, sentient. He couldn't imagine anyone deliberately firing on them and the whalers they had run into had made him feel quite nauseous. "There's an entirely new programme been added to the main one," he said after a few moments. "It's controlling something, but I'm not sure what."

"Can you get into it?" Bridger prompted.

"If I can get around the pass word, yes sir. I'll have to write a sub routine to run codes."

"Is that hard?" Crocker wondered.

"Not really. But it might take a while to type in."

"Go ahead, lieutenant. Take as long as you want. Crocker, Ortiz, let's go and take a look around."

An hour later, O'Neill crouched to study the electronic lock on the door and frowned. "I think you're right, chief. It is a standard security lock," he said, looking up at the older man.

"Yes, but can you open it?" Bridger urged impatiently. His curiosity was pricking him, insisting that the answers they were looking for lay behind the locked hatch. Ortiz had detected the chamber under the base while he was scanning the complex itself for any further additions.

"I think so." Flipping the panel open, Tim studied the wiring inside and tugged experimentally at a couple of wires. Electricity spat at him indignantly and he jerked back, sucking at a singed fingertip.

"Without short circuiting yourself, O'Neill," Nathan scolded mildly.

"You really need the proper tools to do this with," Tim complained in response. "Either of you got a pen I can borrow?"

Confused, Bridger and Crocker looked at each other, then the security man dug out a somewhat worn ball pen and handed it over. Happily, Tim turned back to the lock and dug into the wiring with it, ignoring the blue sparks that danced around the nib. With a hiss and crackle, the lock gave up its efforts and released the seal on the air lock. O'Neill swung to his feet and spun the wheel on the hatch, hauling the heavy door open.

"Nothing to it really," he said cheerfully as he politely handed the pen back to Crocker.

"Uh, yeah," Crocker frowned at the communications officer and made a mental note to check seaQuest's locks to make sure they were O'Neill proof. "Nothing like a secure locking system, is there, lieutenant?" Tim only grinned at him.

"Ortiz taught him everything he knows," Nathan said dryly as he stepped into the air lock and peered through the window inserted into the far door. Beyond lay a darkened cavern. "If you gentlemen would care to step in here, we can open the air lock," he added. Crocker and O'Neill squeezed in behind him and Crocker closed the hatch. Bridger waited until the green light flickered over the second door, then turned the wheel and opened the hatch into the cavern. As soon as he did so, lights flickered on overhead, dimly illuminating the cave.

"What on earth's that?" Tim breathed as he saw the strange device that took up the centre of the plastiform floor.

"Good question," Bridger murmured. Leaving the safety of the air lock, he approached the gleaming metal sphere that occupied most of the floor and circled around it. "Either of you ever seen anything like it before?"

"Only in the Sci Fi films Krieg watches," O'Neill replied as he edged closer and fished out his data scanner to check for energy readings.

"Looks a bit like a mine," Crocker grunted.

"Thank you for that reassuring thought, chief," the captain retorted. "Actually it does look kind of familiar. O'Neill? What do you make of it?"

"Titanium steel alloy, internal power source, CPU... I think it's a transmitter of some kind," the comtech answered without looking up from his scanner.

"I have seen something like this before," Bridger said slowly. "But it was a while ago and a lot smaller than this. It was only in the prototype stage then."

"What's it for, Cap?" Crocker asked curiously.

"As Lt. O'Neill says, it's a transmitter. It was originally intended to create a stealth shield by using signals on Hypersonic frequencies to deflect sonar traces. But the project was discontinued for some reason."

"You don't know why?" Crocker asked.

"It was a long time ago, chief, and not something I was particularly interested in. I'm not sure who was running it. It was, um, Dr Lang.., Dr Langstrom! That's it! He was head of the project for the U.E.O." Bridger smiled in triumph.

"Want me to go and check on him, sir?" O'Neill asked, although he was clearly reluctant to leave without finding out more about the gleaming sphere.

"No. I want you to help me find a way into this thing. Chief? Would you mind?"

"Aye sir," Crocker looked slightly disappointed, but he knew the sphere was a task for the technical crew. "I'll be right back."

As the security chief headed back to the airlock, Bridger strolled casually around the sphere. Tim tagged at his heels, keeping one eye on his scanner. "The power source is showing fluctuating power readings, captain," he warned after a few moments. "It seems to be powering up to do something."

"Does it now," Bridger mused as he put one hand against the cold surface of the sphere. It was felt wet under his fingers and he took his hand away in surprise. "That's odd."

"Sir?" O'Neill glanced up as Nathan gingerly tasted his fingertip.

"Salt water," Bridger frowned and looked around them with a flicker of unease. Now that he took notice of the cave itself he became aware of the smell of the ocean and seaweed that lay in tangled clumps around the sphere. "This cave has been under water recently, Tim," he commented uneasily. "Scan the cavern; see what else you pick up."

O'Neill aimed his scanner at the walls, prowling away from Bridger as the captain continued to investigate the sphere. "We're a good twenty five feet below the sea bed, sir," Tim reported. "I'm detecting channels in the rocks, possible vents."

"Looks like this cavern is meant to be flooded," Bridger noted grimly as he slid his fingers over the smooth metal hull of the globe and finally located a crack in the apparently impenetrable surface. It gave under his fingertips, then popped open to reveal a keyboard sealed behind a glass panel. "Aha! O'Neill, come and see what you make of this."

O'Neill padded over to his side. "Seems to be an access..." he began and paused off as a mellifluous female voice echoed around them.

"WARNING. YOU ARE IN A RESTRICTED ZONE. PLEASE LEAVE THE AREA IMMEDIATELY."

"....panel," Tim finished. "What was that?"

"Automated security warning," Bridger guessed, drumming his fingers briskly against the panel. "Let's see if we can get into this." He dug into his pocket for the penknife he always carried and slid it under the edge of the panel.

"WARNING. YOU ARE ATTEMPTING UNAUTHORISED ACCESS TO MILITARY EQUIPMENT. PLEASE LEAVE THE AREA IMMEDIATELY OR PROTECTIVE ACTION WILL BE TAKEN."

A metal panel snapped down over the keyboard and its glass cover. Bridger's knife blade broke off, nearly slicing his fingers and making him scowl in annoyance.

"TAMPERING WITH OMEGA UNIT HAS BEEN DETECTED. PROTECTIVE ACTION INITIATED."

High up in the walls there was a whirring sound, then silence. "Captain, the power surge is reaching maximum, I really think..." O'Neill broke off his protest and reeled, falling to his knees with a groan of pain.

Bridger felt like someone had hit him in the head with a blunt axe and staggered, falling against the sphere as the hammering pounded through his senses. "Psi probe," he realised dimly. "Got to get out. O'Neill, c'mon, kid." If Bridger had been hit hard, Tim was worse. The young comtech was whimpering in agony as he clutched at his head and curled up at the captain's feet. Half blinded with tears of pain, Nathan grabbed the scanner Tim had dropped and stuffed it in his pocket, then seized the comtech's arm and pulled him up. "Out, c'mon." Weaving unsteadily, Nathan struggled towards the door, looping his arm around his officer. Tim seemed to be having trouble controlling his legs and Bridger didn't blame him, his own knees felt like spaghetti.

"Something...coming..." Tim slurred groggily. "Listen..."

Bridger could hardly hear anything other than the roaring in his head, but gradually he realised that there was another sound he could physically hear. A rushing, roaring wet sound. "The cave's flooding," he realised in horror. "Tim, come on. Move!" He shoved O'Neill ahead of him as the first spray of water burst through the ceiling vents, drenching them both and driving both men to their knees. Tim was nearly out on his feet as Bridger latched on to him with renewed fear and bundled Tim towards the airlock through the deepening water. Already it was surging up around his knees. Only a couple more feet, kid, we can make it. Nathan wasn't sure whether he spoke aloud or not. The pain in his head was rising to a crescendo and Tim was moaning in agony as he struggled to obey his captain and keep moving. Bridger couldn't lift him, his mind starting to blank under the pulverising hammering on his senses.

"Let him go, Cap!" Crocker was suddenly shouting in his ear, striving to pull Nathan upright.

"No!" Bridger protested that, refusing to leave his officer. "Get O'Neill out of here!"

"I've got him, captain!" Ortiz bellowed in his ear, taking Tim's weight. "Straight ahead, sir!"

Bridger wasn't sure where the two men had come from, but he was enormously glad for their appearance. He surrendered O'Neill to the Cuban and let the security chief manhandle him forward. A shadow passed over him as he was hauled inside the airlock. The last thing he remembered was O'Neill crumpling against him as Miguel hauled the hatch shut on the rapidly filling cave, then the blissful darkness of unconsciousness embraced him in its comfort.