The splintered shards of pain had gone leaving only a dull throbbing pain as the aftermath. Not daring to open his eyes, Tim struggled to lift his head and found himself prevented by a cool hand on his forehead.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you, Tim," Levine said gently from above him. "It'll only make you feel worse."

"Where am I?" Tim opened his eyes for a second and hastily squinted them shut again on the mish mash of shapes and colours that assaulted his senses.

"Medbay. You've been out cold for the last hour."

"The captain?"

"He woke up about half an hour ago." Levine moved beside him and a sliver of something cold entered the comtech's arm.

"What was that?" Tim cracked his eyes open again to watch the shadow of the scientist move.

"A mild painkiller," Levine answered easily. "How do you feel?"

"Feel? Like someone hit me from behind with a fire axe."

"Headache?"

"You better believe it," Tim moaned.

"I'm not surprised. Your Lambda patterns are leaping around like frightened fish. Bridger feels much the same way. What else?"

"Else?"

"Concentrate, Tim."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. Forget the headache."

"Easy for you to say..." O'Neill muttered sulkily.

"Tim..."

"Okay, okay. Where's Westphalan when I need her?"

"She's with the captain. You're going to be fine, Tim, Don't worry. Now relax and concentrate."

"Isn't that a contradiction?"

"O'Neill..." Levine complained in frustration. Tim always gave him this problem whenever he asked the comtech to have anything to do with his telepathic abilities.

"Okay, okay. You're nearly as pushy as Miguel, you know that?" A snort from out of his visual range made Tim smile slightly as he obeyed Levine's instructions to concentrate past the throbbing pain in his head. Ortiz was hovering somewhere close by he could tell. And there was someone else, someone familiar but not so familiar, beyond Miguel's warmly sensed aura. Curiosity made Tim concentrate on that, over extending already sore senses.

Levine smiled as he stepped back, studying the EEG monitor he had O'Neill on. Westphalan had decided to put them both on EEG monitors when Crocker reported what had happened in the cavern. To both scientists it had seemed fairly obvious that the attack had hit the telepathically vulnerable and left the others untouched. Whether the attack had been aimed at them or not was another matter. The patterns on the screen started to flicker, becoming uneven as Tim became more agitated.

"Gently, Tim, take your time."

"I, I don't know what you want, I c-can't," Tim opened his eyes abruptly, tears of pain shimmering in the depths. "Levine, please, I can't. It hurts too much. Like a knife in the middle of my thoughts."

"Hey, take it easy!" Levine said in alarm. He waved Miguel back as the Cuban stirred against the wall.

"But..." Miguel protested.

"Please," Tim moaned in increasing pain. "Someone's in my shield. I can't shut down."

"Damn. Ortiz, out."

"But, I'm not...I don't know how!" Miguel complained helplessly.

"Out! Now!" Levine had a pretty powerful voice when he wanted to use it and he startled the Cuban with it now. Ortiz retreated hastily from the cubicle. "Okay, Tim, he's gone. He didn't mean to hurt you."

"No, it's not him," Tim whispered. "Someone else. Doesn't mean to hurt, but does."

Levine swore softly and reached for another hypospray. "Tim, I'm going to give put you out for a little while. Now, you go back to sleep for a while. Hush now."

MacKenzie watched the sensor chief charge out of Tim's cubicle and frowned uneasily, wondering what had upset the volatile young man. Ortiz had been hovering around his friend since the survey team returned to the seaQuest, lingering while Hitchcock and Crocker reluctantly went on their way. He had glared at the scientist, but refused to talk to him, showing his solidarity with O'Neill with his silence. Ortiz didn't approve of him and MacKenzie knew it.

"Levine," Ortiz whirled around as the scientist appeared. "Did you have to throw me out?! I wasn't doing anything! I only wanted..."

"I know, Miguel, and I'm sorry," Levine cut him off in mid tirade and smiled at the way Ortiz indignantly spluttered to a halt. "Tim's shields are malfunctioning and I assumed it was your fault. He says it isn't. Go and sit with him."

Miguel hesitated. "You sure? I don't want to hurt him."

"You won't. You can plug the hole in his shields. I don't know anyone else who can do that." Levine glanced over at MacKenzie.

"Oh," Ortiz coloured slightly and trotted past the scientist into the cubicle. Tim greeted him sleepily, and then fell silent again.

"I can tell I won't be allowed to see him," MacKenzie said with a hint of bitterness. "If you could let me know how he's doing later, I would be grateful."

"Hey, hold on," Levine hurried after him as the older man moved slowly to the hatch. "I didn't mean to throw you out. I need to talk to you."

"About what?" MacKenzie eyed him suspiciously.

"Let me tell Kristen what's happening, then we can go and talk in private. I think Tim's been keeping a secret from you that isn't really necessary."

"What makes you think I would be shocked at the idea of Tim having a telepathic ability?" MacKenzie asked dryly half an hour later as he sat on the couch in Levine's office.

"I don't really, you seem a fairly reasonable man to me. But Tim thinks you will be," Levine said easily as he sipped at his mug of coffee.

"Why?"

"From what I can tell, his father doesn't approve of psi abilities."

"Oh yes, the Devil's Temptation as he calls them," MacKenzie shook his head, wondering if this was Tim had meant to say in the lab but hadn't been able to. "Filled the boy's head with nonsense about the evil ways of telepaths."

"You never argued?" Levine asked carefully.

MacKenzie hesitated, remembering the wide eyed little boy who had struggled to understand that his father was wrong and wanted to believe in the magical mystical world MacKenzie told him about. But in a small toddler's eyes, his father could never be wrong. Unfortunately, he had lost that faith all too soon. "And confuse him? How could I? I told him stories, but to a little boy they're only stories."

"And he wanted to believe whatever his father told him," Levine sighed. "I sometimes wonder if parents know what they do to their kids at times." MacKenzie scowled at the psychiatrist but if it was bait, he refused to rise to it. "One of the problems Tim has with his ability is that he never let it show as a teenager. When his parents split up, like most kids, he managed to convince himself it was his fault. His psi talent was starting to show in unpredictable ways and he thought that was why they split up."

"I wasn't aware he had a talent," MacKenzie said in surprise. "Not then."

"He was born with it, but like most of us never learned how to use it. If there was someone to teach him, he would probably have Hatched a lot sooner."

"Hatched?"

"That's how telepaths describe it. Tim is a Hatchling. He has his abilities but they're still dormant. He can't use them. It could be that, for various reasons, they've been damaged. One thing he can do is block like an expert. He's had to learn how to protect himself and he has excellent shields. Only, they're not functioning properly right now."

MacKenzie stared uneasily into his coffee and wished for a hefty shot of whisky. "And why would that be?"

"I think you know why," Levine said softly. "You have a low level psi talent and you have a mental toe in Tim's shields. He can't close them down tight enough to protect himself without cutting you off and his empathic senses are aware enough of you to want to figure out who and what you are before he does that."

"I'm no telepath," MacKenzie said flatly.

"You were in the Navy. You were psi profiled, weren't you?" Levine knew the answer to that already, but he was hoping for fact from the older man. MacKenzie was silent for so long, that Levine started to think he wasn't going to get an answer at all, then the scientist reached to pour himself another coffee and spoke softly.

"Back when I was in the Navy, the idea of telepaths was still Science Fiction. It wasn't truly recognised as anything more than a pipe dream. Sceptics laughed at anyone who could demonstrate a psi ability. They'd claim it to be a fake, even if they couldn't prove it. The U.S. Navy tested, or psi profiled as you'd call it now, a lot of men and women in the search for a telepathic weapon, but they didn't know what they were looking for." MacKenzie sat back on the couch, studying his brown reflection in his cup for a long moment. "I've been tested a couple of times since then, but I have barely enough talent to make the sensors flicker. I'm not doing anything to harm Tim. I swear it." The scientist gave Levine an earnest look and the psychiatrist smiled back.

"I believe you," he said quietly. "Tim would recognise any form of psi attack. He's more sensitive to that than most Hatchlings." Levine didn't want to go into what Svenson had done to the comtech and edged round the subject carefully. "You and Ortiz appear to have something in common then."

"Such as?"

"Miguel is non psi. Totally ungraded like you. At least, that's what the profiles say. But I tend to believe that everyone is born with an innate psi ability. It shows in things like intuition, knowing someone's going to call you, little things like that."

"What has that got to do with Tim?"

"The experts say that there are telepaths and non telepaths. Never mind the various grades of talents within them. There is also a theory that there are some non telepaths who can, through linking with telepaths, gain a measure of psi ability of their own by having the innate, undefined intuition talent refined. Assuming they link with the right kind of compatible telepath to teach them."

"Sounds complicated," MacKenzie said slowly, wondering if Levine intended to ramble for much longer.

Levine smiled as if he knew what the older man was thinking. "Okay, so it's my pet theory," he admitted. "And it only seems to be empaths that do it. They need to link with someone before they Hatch because without an anchor there's a good chance they'll burn out by getting high on emotion. Tim has Miguel. They've known each other since they were kids and the link was a natural projection of their friendship. Now, I think Tim is reaching for you. He doesn't know it consciously but he senses you're another anchor."

"No," MacKenzie denied that with something close to panic. "You can't let him do that!"

"I don't have anything to do with it," Levine said dryly. "Tim reads sympathy or affection or something from you that's acting like a lure to him."

"I can't let him do it. I can't be there for him," MacKenzie said flatly. "He'd only get hurt."

"Because of the divorce? Don't you think it's time you stopped hiding behind your principles? Tim and Ginny are your family. You're hurting yourself as much as them. You want them back if you'd only admit it to yourself."

MacKenzie glared at him grimly. "You wouldn't understand."

"I understand a lot more than you think I do. I was a psychiatrist long before I turned to parapsychology," Levine replied blandly. "Look, I can give you a mild neural suppressant that will lock down your psi functions. That won't harm you and it'll let Tim shut down his shields properly. If the captain's right about what they found on that base, it's going to be vitally important that Tim has his shields up and running at full strength."

Ortiz could hear the muttering from O'Neill's cabin before he even got to the hatch and pushed it open. Tim fell silent as the Cuban cautiously stuck his head round the edge.

"What do you want?" O'Neill snarled darkly as he stopped pacing and glared at him.

"Oh, we are in a pleasant mood, aren't we?" Miguel retorted mockingly.

"No, we are not!"

"Can I come in?" Miguel could be awfully persistent when he felt like it and anytime when Tim was in this sort of mood was a pretty good time to be stubborn.

"If I say no, it never stops you so why bother to ask?" O'Neill demanded. Ortiz simply gazed at him mournfully and waited for Tim to capitulate, which the comtech did with bad grace. "Oh, all right, come in."

"You're in a nice mood, what's up?" Ortiz asked politely as he came in and eased the hatch too behind him.

"You don't want to know."

"Sure I do. Come on, tell Uncle Miggle all about it," Ortiz prompted.

O'Neill gave him a filthy look. "Uncle Miggle can go take a flying jump," he snarled angrily.

"Oh, no he can't. What's the matter?"

"What's the matter?! Everything's the matter!" Tim surrendered to the Cuban's persistence. "Westphalan's wants to know every psi flicker I have, Bridger is studying my results, Levine thinks I'm some kind of psychic guinea pig put on this boat for him to play with. And as for my Grandfather! Not only does everyone on this boat know that he's my Grandfather, but Levine told him I was an empath! I could kill him! In fact, I could kill the pair of them!"

Miguel perched on a chair and watched in concern as his friend paced and raved in fury. "I'm sure Levine meant well," he attempted to soothe. O'Neill spat something in Arabic at him and then flung himself into his bunk. "There's no point in brooding about it."

"Brooding? Who's brooding?!" O'Neill snapped coldly.

"You are," Stirring out of his chair, Miguel came over to prod the comtech in the ribs and then wag a finger under his nose. "If you can say I was sulking about Fruitloop, I can say you're brooding about this."

O'Neill growled and turned his head away. "You're not treated like a prize specimen," he muttered. "Sometimes I think they'd be quite happy to simply dissect me."

"That's crazy talk!"

"How would you know? You don't know how it feels! Why don't you go away?!"

Ortiz backed off slightly, at a loss as to how to deal with O'Neill in this mood. "You want to talk about it?" he offered hesitantly.

"No. I want to be left alone."

Miguel winced. For an empath to want to be alone was a bit like a fish wanting to be taken out of the water. "You don't mean that, Tim," he said with certainty.

"Don't I?" Tim rolled over onto his back and glowered at the Cuban. "Do you realise there is nowhere I can ever be alone on this boat? Not truly alone." He sat up and jabbed a finger at Ortiz' chest. "You're always there."

"Would you rather I wasn't?" Miguel forced himself to stay calm, figuring that Tim was too angry to realise he was hurting his friend by lashing out at him. "You're the empath. You're the one with the control. Shut me out if you want to that much."

Tim stared at him, confusion and hurt showing in his eyes. "I didn't mean..." he stammered. "It's not that you... I'm sorry, Mig. Do you want me to?"

"No, of course not. You're not thinking very clearly," Miguel said thoughtfully as he sat down next to the comtech.

"I feel like I'm full of cotton wool and it's driving me nuts," Tim admitted ruefully, massaging an ache in his braced wrist.

"Levine said something about your shields," Ortiz began cautiously.

"My shields are up and running, thank you very much," Tim promptly cut him off. "It isn't that."

"Maybe it's do with you and Bridger passing out," Miguel suggested.

"Mig, I know you mean well, but if you don't stop talking about telepathy, I swear I'm going to throttle you and throw you out the nearest airlock," O'Neill warned sharply. "I've had about enough of people telling me to be a good little Hatchling and behave!"

Miguel closed his mouth on the placating words he had meant to say and let Tim boil over again. O'Neill didn't often get this irritable and when he did, it was usually better to let him steam for a while.

"What's all the noise about?" Krieg interrupted Tim's tantrum by sticking his head round the hatch. "They can hear you all the way down to the bilges."

"We don't have bilges," Tim growled, paused and flicked an uncertain glance at Ortiz. "Do we?"

"I don't think so," Miguel answered easily. "Come on in, Ben."

"These are my quarters!" Tim yelped.

"Ignore him. He's brooding," Ortiz went on casually.

"Sounds like an all out snit to me," Ben said with a grin. "What's the problem?"

"Everything, everyone and anything," Miguel said mildly. Tim stared at him in disgust and flopped back in his bunk.

"Oh, right. Well, as morale officer I'd better do something about this," Krieg said with a cheerful nod of understanding. He came over to grab O'Neill's arm. "Up you come, Timmy..."

"Tim..." O'Neill corrected with a snarl, obstinately lying limp so Ben would have to haul him to his feet by brute force if he wanted him to get out of the bunk.

"Tim," Ben agreed without missing a beat. "We'll go and watch some movies in the Ward Room."

"No," Tim shrugged out of the older man's grip easily. "I don't want to."

"Oh." Ben straightened up. He wasn't used to Tim being this awkward to please.

"He's stressed and he wants to break something," Miguel offered.

"As long as it isn't someone's bones," Krieg said dryly. "There must be something you want to do, Tim. It isn't good for you to be this wound up."

"Is that a dig at me being a Hatchling?" O'Neill demanded darkly.

"No, I never even mentioned it," Ben threw a puzzled glance at Ortiz who shook his head in silent warning. "Maybe you need some exercise, Tim. What about it, Miguel? Want to take him down the gym for a couple of practice Judo bouts?"

"No, thanks, I like my bones the way they are," Ortiz said quickly.

"Why can't you two understand that all I want is to be left alone for a while?" O'Neill demanded impatiently.

"You don't really mean that," Krieg scolded with much the same confidence as Miguel had shown on the subject. "How about Magee? I'm sure she'd like to give you some exercise." Ortiz smirked back at Krieg's wicked grin.

"That's another thing. Why does everyone keep throwing Magee at me? I'm not that dense!"

Miguel and Ben both glanced at O'Neill in surprise at his hot tempered response. "We're only teasing you," Miguel soothed.

"Well, don't. You might hurt her feelings." Not even Tim was sure whether he was being protective of his ensign or of the young woman herself. "If you're going to keep nagging me, I might as well give in. I'll watch the movies with you, but don't expect me to enjoy them if I don't want to."

"Well, I don't know what's wrong," Bridger heard Ortiz murmur to his assistant sonar operator, Dan MacCreedy. "I've seen Tim in some pretty strange moods, but he's been pretty nervous since we moved into this area."

"You think it's this empathy thing?" MacCreedy was uneasy about the idea of telepathy at the best of times, let alone with the possibility that there might be something wrong with Tim's talent. "You think it's dangerous?"

Bridger stiffened, prepared to crush that idea before it got out of hand. O'Neill had enough doubts of his own without having to hear anyone else's.

"Tim's about as dangerous as a wet kitten when it comes to telepathy," Ortiz sorted, more amused than annoyed. "You'd have to be really strange to hurt anyone when the pain rebounds on you."

"Is that what happens?" MacCreedy asked with careful curiosity.

"That's what Levine says and he's the expert."

"Captain?" Hitchcock's quiet voice distracted Bridger from the conversation in the sonar bay and he looked round at the Chief Engineer with a flicker of embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping.

"Yes, Katie? What can I do for you?"

"I've been going over the information we took from the base computer and I think I've found something."

"Such as?" The dark haired woman instantly had Nathan's complete attention.

"There seems to be some kind of timer programmed in that may control the device you found." Hitchcock led the way back to her console where she had been running the programmes. "There may also be a sensor programme designed to activate when something approaches the base."

"Connected with the missiles?"

"That's what I thought at first, now, I'm not so sure. I'd like permission to show it to Lucas."

Bridger hesitated. He had been to see the teenager that morning and although Lucas insisted he was fine, he still looked tired and was far too pale. On the other hand, Lucas was getting bored and having nothing to occupy his mind was guaranteed to make him a frustrated and bad tempered patient. "All right, commander. Let's go and see if we can get past Dr Westphalan."

"I still don't see why I have to do this every day," Tim complained as he settled back on the couch in Levine's office.

"Not every day. Only while we're in this area with the whales," Levine corrected. "Comfortable now?"

"No, not that it ever makes a difference."

The scientist hesitated over him with a handful of delicate sensors. "Is your arm bothering you?"

O'Neill flicked a glance at his wrist, aware that he was reflexively curling and uncurling his fingers against his palm. "Not really. Westphalan says I have to keep exercising it."

"Habit huh?" Levine relaxed with a nod and started to attach the sensors. "You know what to do, Tim. Relax while I set his up."

Tim sighed and obediently closed his eyes, doing his best to ignore the faintly sticky touch of the sensors Levine was fitting to his temples. He let his thoughts drift, striving to slip into the peaceful state of mind where the whales seemed to linger. As usual he felt a far off scolding chitter from Darwin who never approved of these experiments. Tim sent him a silent acknowledgement and a promise to be careful, then followed the curling tendrils further down into the depths as Savannah had taught him. To his surprise he felt Darwin's mind following him down, coaxing in chirruping recall.

Come back, not go...

"Why not?"

Danger, Tim not go.

Levine glanced up from settling at his computer monitor, puzzled by the question. O'Neill was normally silent through the experiments. If he spoke at all it was when he was surfacing, tired and irritable from another unsuccessful attempt. On the screen the patterns shifted restlessly, flickering into a new pattern. Tim made a flailing movement, fighting the air for a second.

"Darwin? I c-can't..."

"Tim?" Levine eyed the frantic wriggling of the lines on his screen and abruptly abandoned the monitor. He didn't like this. Tim was already too deep and sinking further according to the patterns. Crouching next to the couch, Levine caught the comtech's face between his palms and held on to him. "Tim, listen to me, follow the sound of my voice, and come back to me." "Hurts..." Tim whispered.

"Tim, come back, follow Darwin." O'Neill whimpered incoherently and went limp. Levine swore and dived over to the intercom on his desk. Westphalan was going to kill him for this. Even as he called Medbay, Levine's attention was captured by the monitor. It was still displaying the writhing lines, but superimposing themselves on the Lambda variant pattern was another one that ominously similar to the voice print recordings of whale song.

"Commander, I'm picking up something odd on sensors," Ortiz announced from the sonar bay. He had been monitoring the N.P.A. base for further activity from the device they had found and it looked as if he had finally found something. Ford trotted over to the sensor chief's side.

"What is it?"

Miguel tapped a quick commander into his keyboard and displayed the information on screen. "I'm picking this up from Loner," he explained. "He's on point over the base. Something is broadcasting on sonar frequencies."

"The same as before?" MacCreedy had been on sonar during the first transmission from the base and Ford had had him record everything.

"Looks that way. It's in the higher registers. Hyper sonic frequencies." Ortiz frowned, feeling a cold shiver run down his neck. For a second his scalp crawled and a minute throb of pain crossed his temples.

"Commander? The whales, their song has changed again," Magee called across, monitoring the Humpbacks from her own position.

"Run a comparison; see if it's the same as the last time." Ford eyed Ortiz' screen in concern, worrying about what effect this might be having on Bridger and O'Neill.

Lucas's fingers sped in a quick tango across the keyboard of his laptop computer as he studied the memory chips Hitchcock had brought down to him. Fortunately for the bed bound teenager's hormones, the Katie had then gone off to Engineering. "There is a timer programme," he confirmed. "Every twelve hours some kind of transmission is activated." He looked up at Bridger curiously. "What did you find on the base, captain? No-one tells me anything. "

Nathan seated himself on the end of the bed and rubbed at a slight ache in his temple. He smiled faintly at the youth's complaint. "Have you heard of Dr Langstom?" he asked.

"Wasn't he involved in sonar research? U.E.O. discontinued what he was doing for some reason. He went over to the N.P.A. when they offered to fund his next project."

"That's right. He was developing a new stealth shield that used hypersonic frequencies. The project was discontinued because of the effect the device was having on cetaceans. Somehow it was broadcasting on psi frequencies. The U.E.O. closed him down due to the contradictions of their Ecological Policy." Bridger had read up on the facts, having to dig deep into the files to uncover the details. The faint taint of military manipulation that marked the files had left a nasty taste in his mouth. There were strong hints that Langstrom had been interested in developing his device as a weapon to be used against human espers.

"You think that's what you found on the base?"

"In a new and improved version, yes." Bridger reached out to tap the laptop computer, diverting Lucas before he thought to ask about the motives behind the device. "What else have you found?"

"Oh, Hitchcock's right. The device would be activated by anything like a whale coming too close to the base. At a guess I'd say the transmissions would scare them off pretty fast."

Bridger nodded thoughtfully. He could see the pieces falling into place. Presumably the setting of the missile launchers to fire on anything coming too close was to protect the base from nosy submarines or whales driven into attacking the base. A stab of pain distracted him from his thoughts, making his vision blur and pulse for a second.

"Captain?" Lucas anxiously grasped at his arm as the older man swayed. Panic stricken, Lucas scrambled to his knees and eased Bridger gingerly down flat. "Kristen! Help!"

"Lucas, I'm a little busy," Westphalan called back impatiently from the outer room where she was talking to Mei Ling about the latest water samples.

"It's the captain, something's wrong. Please!"

Westphalan responded to his desperation and hurried in to lean over Nathan in concern. Bridger managed a feeble smile. "Tell Ford, check the base," he urged.

"That can wait," Kristin retorted, starting to take his pulse. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'll be okay in a minute," Nathan forced out between the thumping beat in his head. "It's like before. Not so bad because of the distance." He paused, swallowing an unexpected surge of nausea as a swell of disorientation took his by surprise, sweeping in from a new direction. "Check on O'Neill. I can cope."

"I'm not so sure. Lie still."

"O'Neill," Bridger repeated stubbornly. "Something's wrong."

Kristen hesitated. "Levine's with him," she said finally. "He can handle Tim as well as I can. I'm going to give you a shot of neural suppressant. Lucas, stop looking so scared. The captain's not in any danger."

"Look, I'm sure you mean well, Dr MacKenzie," Levine's voice said from somewhere above him, echoing as if he was in some deep sea cave. "But you do not give a Hatchling a neural suppressant unless he's halfway to killing himself. And not even then if you can help it. The damn stuff has unpredictable effects on them."

"But he needs something now, he's hurting," his grandfather protested.

"I've given him a strong painkiller. Once he wakes up it'll kick in," Levine answered.

"Tim?" A new voice petted his senses, not so much interrupting the conversation as ignoring it. Miguel's voice didn't seem to echo the way the others voices did. He sounded closer, curled up snugly among the fragments of his scattered thoughts. Tim stretched a fraction of awareness towards Ortiz and instantly winced, wishing he hadn't. Rather than rely on his rogue abilities, Tim cracked his eyes open and licked dry lips. Miguel's worried face swam over him. "Tim?" he repeated in concern. "Can you hear me?"

"I think so," O'Neill managed shakily. "Who hit me with the sledgehammer?"

Ortiz relaxed visibly and smiled. "The device went off again we think. We had whales running in all directions. Bridger keeled over, you passed out. Dr MacKenzie and I ended up with headaches. Ford sent me to Medbay and Westphalan sent me down here."

"Headaches? I'm sorry." Tim turned his head slightly on the cushion, vaguely aware that he was still in Levine's office. His grandfather was watching anxiously from the doorway.

"You're a noisy little Hatchling when you're in trouble," Levine teased from his perch on the foot of the couch. His grin faded silently. "Did Darwin warn you off?"

"Yes," Tim inclined his head in a tiny nod. He couldn't take his eyes off his grandfather, oddly aware that he was missing something. "He said it was dangerous, but I couldn't get out. The whales wanted..." O'Neill broke off uncertainly.

"Wanted? Wanted what?" MacKenzie moved closer, intensely curious about what Tim had sensed.

"I'm not sure. It's all so cloudy," Tim turned his attention to Ortiz and squinted at him.

"What's the matter?" Miguel said quickly, alerted to trouble by something in Tim's expression.

"I'm not sure. I feel a bit...deaf."

"Deaf?" Levine stirred as Miguel shot a worried look at him. "How so? Can you hear us okay?"

"Yes. But there's something not quite...right. Like something's dislocated. It feels uncomfortable."

"Something physical?" MacKenzie asked, a little more sharply than he meant to.

"No," Tim lowered his eyes and looked embarrassed.

Levine hesitated, torn between his own curiosity and concern for his patient. Concern won. "All right. That's enough. Miguel, take Tim back to his cabin to rest." He shot MacKenzie a warning look as the older man opened his mouth to protest. Ortiz helped O'Neill to his feet and steered the comtech to the hatch. Tim paused, resisting Miguel's urging to offer his grandfather a nervous smile.

"I'll be okay," he said awkwardly. MacKenzie gazed back at him silently for a moment, then nodded stiffly.

"Get some sleep," he said shortly. Ortiz scowled at MacKenzie for causing O'Neill's disappointed expression and urged Tim out of the cabin.

""He's your Grandson. The only Grandson you're likely to have. You're not going to get a second chance. Would it really hurt you to tell him you were worried?" Levine said sharply as the hatch close behind them.

MacKenzie gave him a cool look. "Would it do any good?" he asked brusquely. "Nothing is going to change because neither of us can change the past. Why give him false hope now and hurt him later?" Turning on his heel, the scientist swept out leaving Levine to ponder on how MacKenzie could care so much and show so little.

"So, that is the situation," Bridger announced the following morning, looking round at the members of the command conference. "U.E.O. informs us that this device has to be shut down as an ecological hazard. It's affecting the whales, not to mention people." Nathan gave O'Neill a sympathetic smile before he went on. "Our trouble is, we can't destroy it without inviting retaliation from the N.P.A.."

"Won't the N.P.A. shut it down?" Mei Ying asked, flicking a strand of long black hair back over her shoulder. She was wearing a blue silk blouse this morning and neither Lucas nor Ortiz could take their eyes off the way the form fitting fabric shimmered when she breathed.

"I don't think you understand the N.P.A. very well," MacKenzie commented dryly. "Let me guess, captain, they are denying all connection with the base?"

"Not quite. The base is registered to them. They are denying that they know anything about the device."

"But they must know," Lucas protested, actually looking away from Mei Ling for a split second. "The modifications must have taken time and the N.P.A. is required to make regular maintenance checks to ensure the base stays up to standard as a supply base."

"We know that, Lucas," Ford commented. "But we can't call the N.P.A. liars to their face. What I'd like to know is what they're up to and why?"

Bridger ran a tired hand over his face and reached for his coffee. He hadn't had much sleep the night before. There had been too many problems for him to think about. "You have two choices, Jonathan. There are enough mineral nodules in this area to make mining worthwhile, but as long as the whales use it for breeding, they can't touch them. If this device had continued to operate long enough, the Humpbacks would certainly leave this area for good no matter how strong the mating instinct. The other possibility is that they're testing the device as a weapon. Unfortunately, the device is still technically listed as a prototype stealth device in Dr Langstrom's name. We can't prove either way what it's doing down here."

"That doesn't get us any nearer to shutting the thing down," Mei Ling said impatiently, breathing heavily in righteous indignation. Miguel whimpered and O'Neill gave him an irritated look.

"If we can't destroy it, we can at least deactivate it," Lucas said, eager to make an impression on the beautiful scientist. "Once we turn if off, I can write a worm programme to see it doesn't get activated again."

"It's not the software programme, Lucas," Nathan said gently. "It's the hardware."

"We need blue prints," Ford said abruptly, thinking from the military viewpoint as usual. "If this thing has been designed as a weapon, we need to know how to deal with it in the future."

"O'Neill took scans of everything," Bridger answered.

"We should dismantle it," Ford argued. "That's not destroying it."

"But it is tampering and a violation of N.P.A. rights."

"We should have torpedoed the damn base when it fired on MR10," Ford snapped irritably.

Bridger smiled faintly. "I'm don't think the N.P.A. would have appreciated the destruction of a supply base. I don't think U.E.O. would have been all that thrilled either." he sat aside his coffee cup and sat forward again. "What we need now is a plan. Any suggestions?" Silence met his question. "No ideas at all?"

"The whales want us to make it stop," Tim offered in a small voice. "They'd like to...help." Five pairs of eyes stared at him in astonishment. "Well, they do," Tim muttered defensively. "They say their song is wrong."

"I don't think there's very much they can do," MacKenzie said dryly. "After all, they are only animals."

O'Neill's head snapped around and he stared at him in shock. "The whale is the dominant species of intelligent life in the oceans."

"Intelligent, yes. I won't argue with you on that point. But not sentient, Tim. Man is the only sentient species."

"How the hell can you be that narrow minded?"

"Respect your faith," MacKenzie began.

"How dare you say that to me?! My faith is a hell of a lot more to me than a collection of stupid rules," Tim snarled. "I've managed to grow into an understanding of the universe that doesn't have much to do with your kind of narrow minded arrogance! You should go back to your fish and seaweed if you can't recognise a soul when you see one!" Tim suddenly shut up, abruptly aware of the stunned silence that had fallen around the conference table. Miguel was staring at his simmering friend in amazement.

"Er, yes," Bridger said softly. "I think that's all for now. Please consider what I've told you and come to me if you have any ideas."

Ortiz grabbed O'Neill's arm and hustled him towards the door, eager to get him out of the way. Mei Ying followed them slowly, with Lucas padding hopefully at her heels. MacKenzie stayed where he was for a stiff moment, then rose to his feet and with a polite nod to Ford and Bridger left the Ready Room.

"Did O'Neill get possessed when I wasn't looking?" Jonathan asked after the scientist had gone.

"No," Bridger said with an amused smile. "MacKenzie touched him on a sore point. Sentient species don't form part of a Catholic's world view, neither do aliens. O'Neill's had a lot of adjusting to do and it wasn't easy, but he's made the leap."

"And he's surprised MacKenzie hasn't?"

"We all forget people aren't perfect. Levine's told him that MacKenzie accepts psi abilities. It probably never occurred to O'Neill that that doesn't mean he's as accepting of other things."

"Captain?" Ortiz had picked up the approaching submarine as soon as it came into range. He had given it a couple of minutes to establish that it wasn't simply passing by, then sneaked a WSKR in to observe it before he reported it to Bridger. "Looks like a Marauder class III. N.P.A. markings."

"O'Neill?" Nathan glanced over at Communications. "Anything?"

"Nothing, sir. They're not signalling."

"Open hailing frequencies and announce our presence."

"Aye sir." Tim quickly opened a channel and sent out a hailing call. "This is the U.E.O. vessel seaQuest D.S.V. 4600 to unidentified N.P.A. submarine. Please respond."

"Watch them, Ortiz." Bridger patted Ortiz' shoulder lightly and headed over to O'Neill's section.

O'Neill was listening carefully to his headset. "I repeat, this is seaQuest 4600, to unidentified N.P.A. submarine. Please identify yourself." He shook his head. "Nothing, captain."

"They can hear you?"

"I'm sure of it. I'm sending on all frequencies."

"Give me a line."

"Aye, sir."

Bridger padded back to his own console and settled in; tapping the key light that signalled the channel O'Neill had opened. "This is Captain Bridger of the seaQuest 4600. This is an U.E.O. protected site. We are authorised to conduct an investigation of this area. Either identify yourself or we will assume your intentions to be hostile." Nathan noted the looks O'Neill and Ortiz exchanged across the bridge and hid a smile at Miguel's casual shrug and Tim's exasperated glare back. Obviously the sensor chief approved.

"I have a response, captain," O'Neill said abruptly.

"Apparently they noticed our torpedoes are bigger that their torpedoes," Bridger said mildly "On screen, lieutenant."

The screen shimmered from the normal displays to the image of annoyed looking Polynesian woman. "I am Captain Hainu," she said shortly. "This is not a restricted area and we are approaching a designated N.P.A. supply base. What right do you have to interfere with us?"

"We are doing a research experiment on oceanic environment in this area in relation to the disturbance of the Humpback breeding site."

Hainu's brown yes flickered slightly. Somehow Bridger didn't think she was the kind of person who worried about a few disturbed whales. "I see," she said slowly. "Well, Captain, I am afraid you will have to leave this area. The N.P.A. is conducting an experiment of own in this area and your presence may interfere with it."

Bridger gave himself a moment to phrase a diplomatic reply. "That won't be possible until our research programme is complete and we have discovered what is affecting the whales. I'm sure you understand that the U.E.O. is entitled to complete the investigation under the terms of our agreement with the N.P.A. regarding protected sites."

Hainu frowned, the expression creasing the lines deeper into her face. Nathan thought she was probably younger than him, but she obviously had plenty of experience or she wouldn't have been commanding the submarine.

"I will check with N.P.A., but in the meantime please move away from our base and consider yourself in restricted waters. The base is off limits to you and the N.P.A. will take action if any interference is detected."

"We have entered the base," Bridger said steadily, deciding he had better tell her that before she found out for herself. "There appeared to be a malfunction in the missile launchers which fired on one of our launches. In the interest of safety we have deactivated those missiles."

Hainu showed no reaction to that other than a tiny flicker of unease in her eyes. "Understood," she said coolly. "Please, stand by until I have contacted the N.P.A.."

"Understood," Nathan gave her a polite nod and watched the screen blip back to the waiting signal. "O'Neill?"

Tim nodded and quickly tapped in a trace programme on his keyboard. "She's sending to N.P.A., sir. Do you want me to listen in?"

Bridger hesitated. It was a sorely tempting offer. "You have an eaves dropping button, lieutenant?"

"Not exactly, sir," Tim answered innocently. "But any signal they can send I can ride."

"Go ahead," Bridger said finally. "But be discrete."

"Yes, sir." O'Neill typed in a new command and made a few adjustments. Bridger came to stand at his shoulder.

"Well?" he prompted.

"She's being put through to some Admiral," Tim answered, pausing to listen carefully. "She's reporting the situation and requesting orders. Nothing unusual."

"Any mention of the base?"

"No...yes!" Tim brightened up. "Hainu's worried about our presence here. She's mentioned the whales...They didn't know it was affecting them so noticeably, captain. The Admiral is annoyed. He says the U.E.O. was bound to stick its nose in once the whales were affected."

"What does he want her to do?"

"He hasn't decided yet." Tim made a minute adjustment to his console and shook his head. "He's telling her to take no action but to keep us at a distance until he speaks to Langstrom." He paused, listening for a moment, then reached to disconnect and look up at Bridger. "That's it, captain. Signal ended."

"At least we know Langstrom is involved," the captain said thoughtfully. "Can you, er, monitor their incoming calls?"

"If you like, captain."

"No ethical problems involved?" Nathan asked with gentle curiosity.

Tim flushed. "If they didn't want to be overheard they should send on a secure channel, sir," he answered.

Perhaps they didn't expect someone like you to be around, Bridger mused, but he kept the thought to himself. O'Neill's talents were too useful to make him doubt them. "Consider it an order then. Carry on, lieutenant."

An hour later, Bridger had his answer and it wasn't one he was happy about. The N.P.A. had called back and informed Hainu that the seaQuest had four hours to complete her research and get out of the area. By Bridger's estimate that gave the N.P.A. submarine two hours lee way before the transmitter again attempted to deafen them all. Leaving Ford the con, he called a scientific conference to see what Mei Ling and MacKenzie had come up with in the meantime.

"We are in agreement that this device has to be shut down," MacKenzie said once he had heard the latest information. "But I don't believe that will be enough. If the N.P.A. can retrieve the prototype then this could happen again. You said yourself, Nathan, that this device operates on a psi level. What happens if the N.P.A. decides to use it as a weapon against espers? We have to destroy it. If nothing else, that will cause them a major set back."

Mei Ying glanced at him and inclined her head in agreement. "Dr MacKenzie has a more military background than I do, captain," she said quietly. "But the idea that this device could be used against people terrifies me. A weapon is one step away from a threat. With such a device the threat alone would be enough to force people into obeying. The only reasons that they could be experimenting with this device in this area is because of the psi reaction to Humpbacks. Their responses are the nearest ones they are likely to get to a human's without experimenting on people.

"So far, no physical damage has been done from what I can tell from the recorded whale song. There are changes in the songs themselves, but within an hour or so the song reverts to normal." MacKenzie put in. "As far as anyone knows, that means the whale is feeling better. Presumably Tim would be able to tell us if that's so."

Bridger nodded thoughtfully and refused to respond to the sarcastic prompt. He had told Tim he would keep out of the problems between them and he meant to keep his promise. "Dr Langstrom confirmed that the experiment on the whales was a success. They're looking to close down the base and remove the device before anyone knows it's there."

"But we already know," Mei Ying protested.

"True, but they don't know that." Bridger smiled at her. "It still leaves us with the problem of how to destroy the device."

"Perhaps not." MacKenzie leaned forward and captured Nathan's blue eyes with his own piercing gaze. "I've been recording the whale song since Lt. Krieg mentioned it sounded odd. By comparing it to standard whale song, I've noticed quite a few harmonic differences as the whales move towards the upper registers. It's as if they're looking for the right note."

"The right note?" Nathan said slowly.

"To set up a harmonic vibration and wreck the base," MacKenzie explained.

"You're talking about sonic disruption." Bridger caught on swiftly.

"If the whales were to destroy that device, the N.P.A. could hardly blame us," Mei Ying commented thoughtfully.

Nathan wasn't so sure that either of them knew what they were suggesting. It would certainly be a stand off situation if the whales could do such a thing. Either the N.P.A. would have to admit that the whales had taken intelligent action to protect themselves, which meant the N.P.A. had had no right to be experimenting in their territory. Or they would have to regard it as an accident. Either way they couldn't turn on the U.E.O. and the device would be hopefully destroyed. "It's an interesting idea, but how to you propose to get the whales to do it?" he asked.

"We transmit the note they need," MacKenzie said quickly.

"Then the N.P.A. will connect it with us," Mei Ying pointed out.

"Not if we do it as a whale song as part of our 'experiment'," MacKenzie suggested. "It all depends how intelligent the Humpbacks are."

Twenty minutes later, O'Neill studied the hastily gathered information on Bridger's desk and shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. We can't do it."

"No?" Bridger watched his communications officer thoughtfully. There were reasons other than security that had made him discuss the situation with the comtech in private.

Tim turned to look at him. "Captain, you know whales don't respond to recorded whale song. They can tell the difference between a live song and a recorded one."

"You don't think you can programme this note of Dr MacKenzie's into the whale song?"

"Oh, I can do that, sir. But the whales won't listen. It'll only confuse them."

"Sit down a minute, Tim." Nathan motioned O'Neill to a chair. "You said something about the whales wanting to help earlier. Did you mean that?"

"That's what I felt, sir. It was very confusing. Darwin was pulling me one way, the device was pulling another and in between the whales wanted to talk to me."

"Do you still feel that?"

"Sir?" Tim gave him a baffled look. "You mean the three way split?"

"I don't feel the device any more and I doubt if you do," Bridger said slowly. "Do you feel the whales?"

Tim hesitated, licking dry lips. "A little. Very faint and far off. They're calling me. There's something they want but I'm not sure what it is. I wouldn't say anything, sir, it' so vague. But you seem to think it's important."

Bridger hesitated. "Dr MacKenzie suggested this idea and I think he's on the right track. But I don't think, he's skilled enough as a communicator to get the idea across," Nathan spoke carefully, knowing he was going to suggest something that the younger man wasn't going to like. "I think you are."

O'Neill glanced instinctively at the voice prints on the table. "Making what we want them to do clear is going to be almost possible."

"If we're speaking their language, yes. How about if we're speaking ours?"

Tim flashed a hunted look at Bridger, his expression frightened. "Sir?"

"You're being deliberately obtuse, Tim," Nathan said gently. And I don't blame you one little bit. "You know why they've latched on to you. You can hear them and you can visualise what they need. They can sense that. What they want is the answer and they know you can find it for them."

Tim swallowed nervously. "Who? Me, sir?" he squeaked.

"Yes, you, sir," Bridger smiled at him. "Don't look so scared, kid. I won't make it an order. Right now, I want to know if you think you can do it."

O'Neill didn't answer and ducked his head. "I don't know," he admitted finally. "I don't have much control over what I can and can't do. They might only get a garbled message."

"All right, Tim. We'll use the whale song," Bridger said kindly. He didn't need to be a telepath to recognise fear when he saw it. O'Neill didn't understand or totally accept his talents and being asked to use them was something he wasn't prepared for.

The light knock at his cabin door diverted O'Neill from his contemplation of the tray of three Bonsai on the shelf above his bunk. Bridger had given his Communications Officer a little time to think things through while the captain and the scientists played the adapted whale song to the Humpbacks. Tim sighed heavily, contemplating a stray leaf gloomily. Normally meditating over his trees helped calm him, this time it wasn't helping.

"Come," he responded absently to the knock.

"Hi, Tim." Miguel bounced in cheerfully.

O'Neill raised an eyebrow at him. "I didn't say you could come in."

"You said come, that's the same thing."

"It's getting more like the Paris Underground in this cabin all the time," Tim muttered darkly.

"What are you doing?" Miguel blandly ignored the comtech's muttered complaint.

"Thinking."

"I wondered what the funny noise was."

"Real funny, Miguel. Now go away, I'm not in the mood."

"Oh," Ortiz' face fell in disappointment, making Tim look at him suspiciously.

"Let me guess. The Humpbacks didn't respond to the whale song and Bridger sent you to find out what I've decided," he said dryly.

"You'd make a good telepath, Tim. You know that?"

O'Neill considered this for a moment and sighed again. "I told you, I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"Who's joking?" Miguel sobered quickly in response to his friend's bleak mood. "There are some people I'd be terrified of if they were telepathic. You're not one of them."

"Please, Miguel, no pep talks right now, okay?" Setting aside the specialist pruning scissors he used for delicately snipping stray leaves, Tim sat down on the bunk. "This is a tough decision for me. I don't know enough about what I'm capable of to even know if this might be successful. For all I know, I may go in so deep I can't get out. Darwin warned me it was dangerous."

"You said that was because of the stealth device," the Cuban argued. He caught hold of a chair and swung it around, sitting down backwards so he could lean on its back. Folding his arms, he rested his chin on them and studied Tim patiently.

"That was a little white lie," Tim admitted ruefully. "Darwin doesn't like me co-operating with Levine's experiments. He does his best to stop me every time."

"You never told me that."

"I haven't told anyone that." Tim shrugged and smiled at him ruefully. "I am curious, Mig. I'd like to know what to expect and I do want to learn. But if I go to deep into a whale's mind, there's a good chance I won't ever get out. How would you feel having a Humpback for a friend?"

Miguel grinned and reached over to slap O'Neill's knee. "You'd sing pretty," he teased.

"And spout water through my nose, yeah," Tim shook his head. "I'm serious."

"I don't think the captain would consider letting you do it

If he thought it was dangerous."

"There are...temptations that I don't think Bridger is aware of," Tim said slowly. "And not only that, I'm scared of what would happen if anyone thinks I can control them."

"Well, you can't. You said so. And such as what temptations?" Ortiz asked uneasily.

"Such as, they don't ask more of you than you can give. Such as, no hostility, no mind games. No ostracism for being a Psi. They don't want to use me."

"Is that still worrying you?" Miguel asked in exasperation. "Being a Psi is acceptable now. I keep telling you that."

"Only to you. Catholics still think it's the Devil's Temptation."

"Bull!"

"Miguel, it's not! It is a temptation. Man wasn't meant to have the power to read a man's soul!"

Ortiz stared at him, unable to think of a way to argue the point. The Cuban had been raised a Catholic, but he had lapsed along the way and didn't have the same fervent belief as his friend. He wasn't prepared to argue the moral points of Tim's dilemma.

"Then you wouldn't have been given the power," a softly accented Scottish voice said from the hatchway. Straightening up, MacKenzie stepped inside and gazed thoughtfully at his grandson. "Have you ever discussed this with a priest, Tim?" he asked gently.

"No. How can I?" Tim gave him a fiercely defensive look. "They wouldn't understand. You know what they'd say."

MacKenzie considered this for a moment, then turned to Miguel. "I need to talk to Tim in private for a moment, Mr Ortiz. Would you excuse us?"

"Uh sure. I'll tell the captain you haven't decided yet." Miguel slid to his feet and started for that hatch, only to be stopped by Tim's out stretched arm.

"This is my cabin. I say who stays or goes," O'Neill said flatly.

Mackenzie smiled faintly. "Indeed. Still the proud and stubborn one, aren't you?" he said indulgently. "I didn't come to argue the past, Tim, or excuse what I did. But there are things you need to know for the future."

Tim stared at him for a long moment, then lowered his arm silently conceding the point. Ortiz gave him a concerned look and only left when Tim inclined his head towards the door.

"Thank you," MacKenzie said gratefully to Tim as he closed the hatch behind the Cuban and turned back to his grandson. "You haven't been talking to the right priest," he went on. "You'll have to come and visit with us in Scotland and talk to Fr. Campbell."

"Fr. Campbell?" Tim gazed up at MacKenzie with wide eyes, speculating on the invitation.

"A good man with a taste for whisky and a fair tongue," his Grandfather replied. He righted the chair Miguel had turned round and sat down. "You have the Sight?"

"The what?"

"The Sight. The Gift. A Psi talent."

"Oh, that. Maybe. Why?" Tim eyed him warily.

"What makes you think I'd be against it? Aren't I the one who told the tales when you were little?"

"Garibaldi used to tell me tales about Mermaids, that doesn't mean he believes in them," O'Neill snorted.

MacKenzie sighed. "Your Great Grandmother had the Sight. And her Great Grandmother before her. I have a little of it. Ginny has none that I know of. It weakens through the generations until it gets to the fourth generation. That's you, laddie. I should have known a long time ago."

"If you'd been around, maybe you would have," Tim couldn't keep himself from snapping at him.

"I can't change the past," MacKenzie said sadly. "I can't change the way I am."

"You could if you wanted to enough," O'Neill retorted. "Why did you come to talk to me anyway? To save your precious whale theory?"

"No," MacKenzie retorted waspishly. "If you must know, it's what Levine said. He told me you couldn't accept your esper abilities because of what you were taught when you were little. Sub consciously you think they made us leave you. I felt I should correct that idea."

"You really have been talking to Levine, haven't you?" Tim commented bitterly.

"He told me about free floating hostility too," MacKenzie replied sarcastically.

"Oh, believe me, this hostility isn't free floating."

"Timothy MacKenzie O'Neill, you do not talk to me that way!" MacKenzie protested angrily

"Why not?" O'Neill gave him a belligerent look. "You lost the right to tell me what to do quite a long time ago, don't you think?"

"Because I..." MacKenzie began, then stopped himself. "No you're right. I did lose the right." He rose to his feet and gave Tim a steady look. "I'm sorry. You've turned out better and stronger than I ever realised. I'm proud of you for all that I had nothing to do with it. I wanted to tell to tell you you're not alone. I don't reject you for being an empath or anything else. The problem is mine, not yours."

"At least you admit it."

For a moment there was a flicker of hurt in MacKenzie's eyes, then he straightened his shoulders. "I suppose I deserve that," he said sadly. "I'll leave you to make your mind up, laddie. But you have a proud heritage, don't you forget that. And don't go letting it down."

Tim kept his silence until the hatch closed behind his Grandfather, then he slumped. It wasn't fair the way people kept manipulating him, he reflected miserably. The constant appeals to his better nature played on his empathic abilities until sheer exhaustion wore him down. "I don't know why I bothered to protest about it," he sighed. "Sooner or later I was bound to give in. I'm too damn gullible that's my trouble."

"Is it really necessary for you to go outside to do this?" Westphalan asked in concern twenty minutes later as she helped Bridger check his scuba equipment preparatory to diving.

"O'Neill seems to think so," Nathan answered as he fastened the weight belt around his lean middle and hitched it into a comfortable position on his hips.

"You will watch him, won't you? His arm was badly broken. He shouldn't really be swimming yet."

"Ortiz and I won't let him out of our sight," Bridger promised with a wry grin at her fussing.

"Levine and I will be standing by when you come back aboard," Kristen continued, ignoring his amusement. "You have fifteen minutes. Any longer and we'll send a team out after you."

"Kristen, we'll be fine." Bridger glanced around them and then put his arm around the doctor. "Don't worry. Humpbacks have never harmed anyone and you know it."

"O'Neill's never voluntarily psi contacted anyone before either. It's always been initiated by someone else."

"I suspect the same thing will happen this time. They want to talk to him. Tim's been too scared to let them. That's why Ortiz is coming with us. Miguel's his anchor. He'll pull him back if he goes to deep."

"Sure of that, are you?"

"Yes, between us and Darwin we can keep hold of him," Nathan said firmly, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded.

"There's still the N.P.A. sub to worry about," Westphalan warned.

"Ford should be warning them right now that we're sending a diving party out."

"You seem to have thought of everything."

"I hope so. That's what I'm here for." Bridger released her and started over to where Ortiz and O'Neill had finished checking each others scuba gear and were now waiting for the captain.

"Nathan?" Westphalan gave him a shy smile.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. You look too good in a wet suit to waste." Kristen told him with a teasing wink and headed over to join Levine before he could respond.

"Captain?" Ortiz prompted politely. "We're ready."

"Good," Nathan hoped his embarrassed blush wasn't showing. "Are you sure about this, Tim?"

"About as sure as I can be," O'Neill said ruefully, sliding a glance at Miguel. "I guess if I do this, I'm admitting that I have a talent."

Ortiz grinned and lightly punched his arm. "Attaboy. Don't worry about it. With your record, you can't help but be absolved in Confession."

"I wish I had your confidence," Tim sighed and gave Bridger a weak smile. "I'm about as ready as I'm going to be, sir."

"All right then, gentleman,. Let's go."

Levine glanced at Kristen as Bridger slid into the Moon Pool after his two officers and slid under the water. Darwin's sleek shape dived after him. "Still worried?" he asked quietly.

"Aren't you? I can't help feeling that Tim's not ready for this. It's like asking someone to fly a plane after one lesson. Savannah told him not to Send."

"He has Darwin along as his instructor. Not to mention the Captain and Ortiz. They won't let anything happen to him. And the whales will help," Levine said firmly.

"You really believe that?" MacKenzie's voice took them both by surprise. "That the whales are intelligent enough to understand what we want them to do?"

"That's the whole point, isn't it?" Westphalan asked crisply. You expected them to follow an instruction in a whale song. Well, all Tim's going to do is tell the same thing in a different way."

"And you hope they'll obey? You think Tim has enough control to make them do what he wants."

"No," Kristen was sharp about that. "That's not what I mean. He's going to ask them to help, not force them."

"He wouldn't even if he could," Levine added confidently. He gave MacKenzie a narrow eyed look. "And for Tim's sake, I hope you remember that."

"Why?" the scientist gave Levine a puzzled look.

Levine laughed bleakly. "Because some military minds are devious enough to think that someone who can control whales is a very valuable piece of property. And I don't think you want that to happen to Tim, now do you, Dr MacKenzie?"

"No," MacKenzie had suddenly gone very quiet and thoughtful indeed. "No, I wouldn't," he admitted. "There are too many telepaths under the militaries thumb already. Tim would never survive."

The Humpbacks were waiting. There were only three of them. The Bull who had watched over MR10 when she was stranded on the sea bed and two younger males. They were floating at the mouth of the ravine, barely moving except for the languid swish of a fluke to maintain position in the current.

Bridger came to a halt a hundred yards off, not wanting to startle them. Grasping O'Neill's arm, he pulled the younger man up beside him. All three divers were wearing bubble helmets which contained an intercom system that would allow them to talk to each other. "Okay, lieutenant, this is your ball game. Ortiz and I are here as short stops. How do you want to play it?"

Tim looked blank for a second, wishing the captain wouldn't talk baseball at him. "I really don't have a clue, sir," he admitted. Darwin nuzzled up beside him, nudging his ribs.

"He doesn't seem worried," Nathan noted, patting the dolphin.

"No, sir." Tim didn't look all that reassured by the dolphin's presence. Or by Ortiz when he floated up beside them and put his hand on the comtech's shoulder. "I don't even know which one to talk to."

"The big Bull. He's the adult. Consider the other two teenagers. Or captain and officers." Bridger's smile faded as he noted O'Neill nervous expression and failure to respond to his teasing.

"Yes, sir." Tim swallowed convulsively, but made no move to approach the whales.

He's too scared to make contact, Bridger realised with a flicker of disappointment. Ten to one, the whales won't touch him when he's frightened.

Darwin made the decision for them. He chirruped and twisted between them, arrowing towards the bulk of the Humpbacks. "Darwin, no! Come back!" Tim kicked after him instinctively. The swirl of water they left rocked Bridger and Ortiz apart for a moment and left them behind. Both men then kicked out, determined to catch up.

Whale song boomed around them suddenly, vibrating through their bodies in an oddly sensual rhythm. Tim came to a halt, sculling the water in surprise as Bridger and Miguel reached the comtech.

"You okay, O'Neill?" Miguel asked anxiously, catching at O'Neill's shoulder. No answer. "Tim?" He flashed a look at Bridger. "Sir?"

"Wait," Bridger said simply and tugged Miguel's hand free. "Let him go."

Tim kicked away from them, a dreamy expression in his eyes. The Bull drifted forward to meet him, turning lazily in the water to study the young comtech swimming up alongside him. The two younger males circled around the group, gliding past effortlessly.

"They're so big," Miguel breathed, unconsciously edging closer to the captain.

"They won't hurt us," Bridger assured him, none the less keeping a wary eye on the two younger Humpbacks. Like all teenagers they loved to play and might well get out of hand.

The Bull seemed to sigh, his song changing like the susurration of the sea. Tim was hovering under his flipper, running his hand down the length in fascination. He seemed fascinated by the contact. Darwin was keeping station with him, only a couple of feet away from him. The Humpback turned slightly, the wash of water of his movement, drawing Tim around with him.

"I wonder what they're saying," Miguel whispered, wistfully wishing he could understand this rapport.

Bridger glanced at his divers watch, privately reckoning that Ortiz didn't really need an answer. He didn't want to risk leaving O'Neill in contact with the whale for too long. It could be dangerous to his untrained and wayward abilities. Svenson had hurt the comtech with her vicious intrusion into his psyche and no-one had ever been able to assess the damage the emopath had done. "See if you can attract his attention, we need..." Nathan broke off as he realised that Tim was crooning along with the whale, echoing each twist and hum of the song. "No, damn it! He's going to deep." Bridger kicked forward, flustering Ortiz. The Cuban looked a little dazed as if he was getting a proxy sample of whatever was tranquillising O'Neill. Bridger could feel the edges of that siren call to sleep curling around the edges of his own mind and fought it desperately.

The Humpback boomed again and the two young whales moved away, heading for the surface. Darwin zipped in closer and thumped his snout into O'Neill's ribs, dislodging him from his grip on the Bull's fin. With an odd trilling note, the Humpback rolled gracefully in the water and flicked his tail to carry him away. Tim didn't react but floated dazedly, touching Darwin as he approached again. The dolphin nosed against his chest and Tim obediently caught hold of his dorsal as Darwin turned to bring himself under the comtech's hands.

For Bridger the spell seemed to break with a snap, he kicked up along side O'Neill and Darwin and grasped the lieutenant's arm. "O'Neill, snap out of it, kid. Wake up." Tim gave him a drowsy look and smiled. "Beautiful," He sighed.

"Cloud cuckoo land," Ortiz grunted as he finned up alongside them and grabbed hold of O'Neill impatiently. "What was that, captain? I've never felt that peaceful in my life."

"Sleepy," Tim commented vaguely.

"What?" Bridger gave him an alarmed look and felt Darwin nudge him urgently in the small of the back, propelling him and O'Neill forward. The dolphin chirped at them impatiently, catching Tim's hand in his mouth to tug at him.

"I feel kind of tired too," Ortiz noted. His dark eyes widened behind his mask. "You think this is something the whale did?"

Bridger studied O'Neill's drowsy expression for a second, then started to swim towards seaQuest, towing O'Neill with him. Darwin swam around them, apparently doing his best to chivvy them along. "Yes, I do," he answered Ortiz. "And from the way Darwin is carrying on, I think we'd better get him back on board before he goes to sleep on us."

There were willing hands waiting at the Moon Pool to haul the three men out of the water and help them strip off their scuba gear.

"Did it work?" Levine wanted to know excitedly as he helped O'Neill shrug out of his tank.

"Did what work?" Tim asked innocently, all wide eyed and sleepy curiosity.

"The whale, the harmonic pattern you were supposed to visualise for them?"

"Oh that. I don't know." Tim yawned and sat down abruptly on the deck.

"You must know!" Ortiz exclaimed as he unzipped his suit and crouched beside his friend.

"Know what?" O'Neill eyed him vaguely and yawned again. "Go away, Mig, I want to sleep."

"What's the matter with him?" Miguel looked round for help and Westphalan abandoned assisting Nathan for a moment to come and check the comtech.

"He seems fine," she said, checking his eyes and reaching for his wrist to take his pulse.

"Floating," Tim assured her with a pleasant if vague smile. "Except for my arm. Aches." He eyed his wrist absently and yawned yet again, setting Miguel off in the process. Ortiz hastily covered his mouth and looked sheepish.

"Did the whale do this?" Kristen glanced over her shoulder at Bridger in concern.

"He's been fairly dazed since he made contact, so yes I think so."

Westphalan bit her lip and turned anxiously back to O'Neill. "Tim, I want you to come down to Medbay with me."

"I'm fine," Tim lilted and giggled at her. "Really. Sleepy s'all. Doesn't hurt."

"Levine?" Kristen shot a worried look at the psychiatrist.

"Hang on a second." Levine was quickly untangling the monitor leads. "We'll check..."

"No," Tim focused in their direction and frowned. "No more experiments."

No mind touch. Sleep. Darwin had surfaced in the pool and the vocoder obediently translated. Newborn sleep. Not good wake.

"S'right. Excuse me." O'Neill tugged out of Kristen's grip and curled up on the floor, closing his eyes. "Sleepy."

With a worried frown, Westphalan started to shake him awake and abruptly found her wrist caught by MacKenzie. The older man had been watching surreptitiously from the hatch, now he eased himself to his knees beside Tim.

"Let him sleep," he urged. "He needs it and it's good for him."

"How do you know?" Kristen retorted impatiently.

MacKenzie hesitated and looked acutely embarrassed. "I can feel it," he mumbled uncomfortably. "Let him be."

"MacKenzie's right. He's stretched too far. He needs to sleep to pull his mind back together," Bridger had moved closer, straining to listen to what his extra senses were telling him.

Anchor, Darwin chirruped impatiently. Tim need anchor.

"What's that mean?" Miguel murmured. He was sitting cross legged beside his friend by now, rocking gently to the rhythm of the waves. Bridger shot a sharp look at him.

"At a guess, that's you," he decided. "Here..." Grabbing Ortiz' arm, Bridger guided the Cuban into resting one hand on O'Neill shoulder. The faint twitches and shivering that had been running through the comtech stopped after a second or two and Tim curled up with a peaceful sigh. Miguel gazed at Bridger in sleepy confusion.

"I don't understand," he protested groggily. "Why do I feel sleepy too?"

"Tim's broadcasting the over spill to you," Nathan told him.

"You do think it's the whale," Levine commented in deep satisfaction, eyeing Miguel and Tim with a certain amount of scientific avarice.

"Not now Levine," Bridger warned him off and headed for the intercom as it beeped. "Bridger."

"Captain, can you come to the bridge?" Ford asked quickly.

"Is there a problem?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure. The Humpbacks have moved into the ravine. I don't think the N.P.A." Jonathan paused for a second, then came back on line. "Sorry, captain. The N.P.A. submarine is hailing us."

"I can't come up right now, Jonathan. Put the call through down here." Bridger shot a glance back at O'Neill, noting in amusement that Ortiz had given up the attempt to stay awake and curled up on the deck beside his friend. The pair of them looked like a couple of puppies curled around each other. MacKenzie had an odd expression on his face as he watched them, halfway between dismay and affection.

"Captain Bridger?" Hainu's wrinkled face appeared on the screen, reminding Nathan of nothing so much as a dried up sea urchin. "I demand an explanation of this!"

"Of what?"

"These damn whales!"

"Whales? What makes you think we have anything to do with them?" Bridger asked innocently.

"You, you were damn well talking to them!" Hainu spluttered indignantly. "You've got a telepath on board."

"Is there any reason why we shouldn't?" Nathan asked mildly.

"If you're ordering those whales to attack us..."

"Now that is an interesting concept," Bridger mused. "If we were communicating with them, then that would imply that they are capable of reasoning that your base is somehow harming their environment. Don't forget that it has never been scientifically proven that interspecies telepathic contact is possible. Why should they take orders from us? Isn't it more likely that they would find their information from us and make their own decision."

"What do you mean?" Hainu eyed him suspiciously.

"Something is driving the whales from their breeding ground here. Our research has detected nothing harmful in the waters around here. The only odd occurrence was a transmission from somewhere inside your base."

"Ridiculous!" Hainu snapped.

"Perhaps so. But who knows how a whale thinks? Our research has indicated that the Humpbacks are aware of the transmission. Their song has altered when it is transmitted. Perhaps they want to communicate with your base."

"We don't have any telepaths on board," Hainu growled. "How are we supposed to talk to them?"

"That is your problem, captain. We're only here to make certain that no harm comes to a protected species." Bridger was careful about how he made his point, coolly meeting the enraged woman's eyes.

"Human lives are more important than a blasted fish!"

"I was not aware that there were any people on board your base, captain," Bridger had had Ford keep up a constant scan on the base since the N.P.A. submarine arrived. No-one had gone aboard and Nathan was convinced no-one would until the seaQuest left the area. "And whales are actually mammals, not fish. I'm sorry, but we can't do any more than you can. We have to watch and see what they do to."

Ford resisted the urge to nibble on his fingernails as he watched the main screen. Ensign Magee had split the display so that he could listen to Bridger and Hainu refraining from a slanging match by the skin of their teeth and watch the Humpbacks at the same time. The whales had circled the base, swimming in closer and closer in inquisitive inspection. Now they were taking up positions in a triangular formation above it, hanging nose down in the water.

"Magee? Are you picking anything up?"

"They're singing very softly," Magee reported, adjusting the hull microphones on the seaQuest's bow for a better signal. "Shall I put it on speakers?"

"Go ahead, ensign. Let's hear what's going on."

Magee tapped a new command into the communications keyboard and an eerily mournful song started to echo around the bridge, gradually starting to resound with fresh harmonies as the two younger males joined their song with the Bull. The volume increased, setting Ford's teeth on edge. Hitchcock's coffee cup, balanced on the edge of her console started to vibrate and dance. Katie eyed the rippling surface of her coffee and hastily picked it up, swallowing it before it spilled. She shot a nervous look up at Ford as he came over to stand beside her.

"Great idea of the captains," She murmured. "But did anyone figure out what seaQuest's harmonic note is?"

Ford shook his head, wishing she hadn't asked the question that had surfaced in his own mind. If Bridger and MacKenzie were right, then hitting the right note would shatter the base's hull. If the whales missed and hit another note, the consequences for seaQuest or the N.P.A. submarine could be fatal.

"Commander, the N.P.A. sub is getting nervous. They're backing off," MacCreedy reported from sonar.

I don't blame them, so am I. "Helm, reverse course," Ford ordered briskly. "Back us off. No point in getting hit by debris if we can help it. Magee, turn it down. I think we've heard enough."

"Aye sir," Magee quickly reduced the volume and cut in a couple of filters to tune out the upper registers as they started to painfully grate on her ears.

"Jonathan," Katie leaned forward, pointing at the screen. "Look at that antenna array on the base." Ford followed the engineer's pointing finger and saw the antenna started to warp as it vibrated, twisting out of alignment. A few bubbles appeared around its mooring, a split forming in the shiny hull of the base. The Humpbacks abruptly broke formation, speeding away with graceful speed. The next moment the crack in the dome split wide and the base crumpled inwards, imploding silently with a rush of erupting fire from internal explosions.

"Helm, bring her nose around! Stand by for shock waves!" Ford bellowed instinctively into the intercom and dived for his own seat. He was not a moment to soon in reaching its safety seaQuest bucked furiously in the riptide of the explosive concussion.

Bridger picked himself up from the deck, cradling a throbbing elbow where he had cracked it on the side of the Moon Pool and swearing under his breath. Westphalan and Levine had fallen in a tangle against the pool wall and MacKenzie was sprawled across O'Neill and Ortiz securing them both. He picked himself up slowly, gently shaking both young men awake. Miguel yawned and stretched and peered around him in confusion, but Tim only curled up tighter. Kristen gave Nathan a worried look, but when he gave her a reassuring nod she crawled across to O'Neill and checked his pulse.

Bridger staggered over to the intercom. "Bridger? Ford? What's going on?"

"Sorry, captain. The shockwaves took us by surprise," Ford sounded a little shaken. "The whales...uh, the whales destroyed the base sir. It imploded like you said it would."

Bridger caught his breath. He had hoped the Humpbacks would understand, but the reality was scary. Nathan shot a look over at O'Neill and felt a stab of alarm replace his unease. Tim was still well out of it and Westphalan had her hands full reassuring both MacKenzie and Ortiz that the comtech would be fine. The sensor chief was obviously wide awake now and Bridger's own drowsiness had vanished, so why hadn't O'Neill woken up.

"Captain? Are you still there?"

"Er, yes. Assess the damage to the base."

"There's not enough left to assess, captain," Ford said with a flash of a wicked grin. "We're still getting minor explosions and MacCreedy said the epicentre of the blast came from under the base. He's pinpointed it to the position of the stealth device."

"And the Humpbacks?"

"They're okay. They're currently off our port bow, still singing, but softer now."

"A lullaby?"

"Sir?" Ford looked confused.

"Oh nothing, Jonathan. I'm coming up to the bridge. I suppose I'd better soothe Hainu's ruffled feathers before she starts screaming U.E.O. collaboration."

Tim felt oddly lazy. He could sense things around him with a clarity that didn't belong to him. Humpback song caressed and enfolded him, crooning a lullaby that shut out the world and left him dreaming of things he didn't understand. Whale dreams that folded and unfolded like sunlight in his mind and led him reluctantly back to the surface where tendrils of thought and feeling waited and lingered, coaxing him back to reality. Miguel was one, the vibrant colours of his mind sparkling with life. Tim recognised his Grandfather as another, darker hues of purple strength. Bridger's mind, glowing with spirit despite the bruises to his soul. Darwin in shades of jade and aqua, patiently prompting him back into place in his own soul and dislodging the whales' gentle restraints, until he reached the crystal depths of his own mind and travelled serenely upwards to consciousness again. There were voices echoing around him and Tim lay relaxed and peaceful, letting the sounds roll over him as he toyed with the vestiges of roused senses that let him taste faintly the emotions around him. The awareness faded as the words started to have meaning again and Tim started to concentrate on his own world, focusing his mind to comprehend the language of the tongue instead of the mind.

"People change when circumstances warrant it," Levine commented to MacKenzie. The scientist was sitting next to his Grandson's bunk, watching him with worried blue eyes.

Kristen had decided to move O'Neill down to Medbay for a full examination. She couldn't find anything wrong, but Tim was still so deeply asleep it was as if he had been anaesthetised.

"What does that mean?" MacKenzie threw him an annoyed look.

"It means that you can't go on denying you care about Tim and his mother. Okay, maybe you're not ready to talk to his mother yet, but you can talk to Tim."

"He's unconscious. What good would it do?"

"It'd show him you care," Levine pointed out.

"You're not my psychiatrist, Dr Levine. Ship's shrink or no," MacKenzie warned sternly.

The scruffy scientist grinned at him. "Technically I am as long as you're on board. I do what's best for my crew. If I can't help the telepath, then I do what I can for the man." Levine's smile faded slightly. "Tim's been through a lot because of his talent and he risked a lot today. If he stays under a little longer than he should, it's because whales are nicer than people at times. I persuaded Kristen to let you sit with Tim, because Ortiz is tired. But if I ask Miguel, I'd bet he'd be down here like a shot. And Tim would wake up for him."

MacKenzie didn't answer. Levine's barb had struck home and it had hurt. He wanted his grandson's affection more than anything. Until he had seen Tim in his uniform on his bridge, he hadn't even realised what he had missed by cutting himself off from them. All he had had were the photographs his wife brought home when she visited. To MacKenzie, Tim was still the toddler who begged for a story every time he saw him. Still the wide eyed little boy, who happily chattered away in Chinese and soaked up a smattering of Gallic within days. A surge of love and affection surged up inside him, threatening to spill over the barricades he had so carefully built up and had desperately struggled to shore up against Tim's efforts to get closer.

"Reject him often enough and sooner or later, he'll reject you," Levine went on remorselessly, making MacKenzie wince.

"Levine," Westphalan had appeared at the hatch and was frowning at him. "Now isn't the time to be psychoanalysing, Dr MacKenzie. Let the man worry in peace."

MacKenzie relaxed slightly as Levine scowled and stalked out. "Thank you, Kristen," the Scot murmured to her.

"I'm doing it for Tim. He doesn't need bad moods hovering around him." Westphalan retorted and turned on her heel to stalk out.

"Ouch," MacKenzie muttered.

"Serves you right," Tim responded, smiling drowsily at his Grandfather.

"What?" MacKenzie looked up in disbelief and found Tim's hazel eyes watching him with a flicker of merriment. "I thought you were unconscious."

"No, not exactly. Kind of...sleeping." Tim frowned, struggling to concentrate past the waves of drowsiness still lapping the edges of his thoughts. "The whales kept singing to me. I couldn't understand. So they let me go." Disappointment flashed through Tim's eyes and he looked at the older man uncertainly. "Do you think I did something wrong?"

"No, I think you're not experienced enough to understand," MacKenzie answered slowly, suppressing a shiver at Tim's casual attitude to the whales. He wished he could have been that complacent. In fact, he half wished he had had a full psi talent in the first place. When he thought of all the things he could have done...And the knowledge of how rejection hurts the people you care about most...The thought took him by surprise and he scowled, exasperated with himself.

"I'm sorry," Tim muttered. "I did my best. I didn't mean to disappoint you."

"What are we talking about here? The whales? Or us?" O'Neill would neither look at him nor answer, so MacKenzie took a deep breath and went on carefully. "I can't tell you about the whales, laddie. That's your territory and a new one at that. I doubt if there are many people who could advise you. As for us, you've never disappointed me. I'm the one who's disappointed you."

Tim flashed a quick look of surprise up at him for that as MacKenzie tentatively reached out and rested his hand on Tim's shoulder. "I love you, laddie. The same as I love Ginny. I never stopped doing that and I never will. Forgive me my foolishness, but 'tis the way I am. Goodness knows, your Grandmother has told me that often enough, but you cannot change the way the wind blows."

"I know," Tim sighed, slumping against his pillows. He had felt good when he woke up, fit and restless with fresh energy, now he started to feel tired. "But I wish sometimes."

MacKenzie eyed his grandson as Tim closed his eyes, aware of how pale he was. And if the whale had caught him and kept him? What would you do then? Levine is right for all that he talks too much. Swallowing hard, MacKenzie tightened his grip on Tim's shoulder. "I think your Grandmother would like it if you and Ginny came to see us," he said awkwardly. Tim's eyes flashed open and he stared at his Grandfather in surprise.

"See us?" he echoed.

"Aye, laddie. 'Tis time to mend the fences, don't you think?"

Tim uncurled like a too taut spring and pounced on his Grandfather, hugging him as fiercely as the toddler he had been once been and all but bouncing with joy. Abruptly remembering that he was not only grown up but an officer, he hastily pushed away and blushed in embarrassment. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

MacKenzie only grinned at him and let his grandson melt the chill he had formed on his soul. It might not be easy, he reflected, but they could at least talk. Ginny was as stubborn as he was, but deep down MacKenzie knew his daughter still loved him as much as he did her.

Two days later, Krieg and O'Neill strolled casually down to the Ward Room. Ben was fresh off taking a rare duty watch on the bridge, while Tim had been calling home. His mother had been astounded to hear from her offspring and equally astonished to hear what he had been up to. Tim privately reckoned there were going to be fireworks when she and his Grandfather got together, but he was looking forward to it and betting that his mother was more than a match for the senior member of the MacKenzie clan.

"So, have the whales been singing you any more lullabies?" Krieg asked mildly.

"No. They only wanted to make sure I didn't get damaged when they wrecked the base."

"And how," Ben chuckled. "You sure though? They spent long enough babysitting seaQuest."

"Only until the females returned," Tim pointed out. Bridger had kept seaQuest on stand by until the Humpback pod was complete again. Only then, and when he was sure the N.P.A. wouldn't be bother them again had he had seaQuest set a course for him.

The N.P.A. submarine had conducted a complete survey of the base and then sped northwards the day before with her captain in a right royal snit. Hainu couldn't prove that the seaQuest had had anything to do with what the whales had done and it made her furious that the U.E.O. couldn't be held responsible for the actions of supposedly non sentient life forms. As Bridger pointed out, either the whales had acted on their own behalf; which effectively meant they were sentient and untouchable. Or they had behaved like any animal defending its territory which means the N.P.A. could hardly complain without looking like fools. The idea that anyone could possibly tell the whales what to do was patently ridiculous and totally unproveable. Bridger had thoroughly enjoyed the conversation he had with Hainu or, as Ford put it, there was nothing the seaQuest's captain liked more than twisting the tail of another captain.

"Now there's a thought," Ben mused.

"What thought?

"They must be having quite an orgy around now. Pity we couldn't hang around. You'd have had a great time!"

Tim blushed furiously and sped on ahead into the Ward Room, doing his best to ignore Ben's teasing laughter following him. Pausing to pour himself his coffee while he calmed down, Tim glanced around and noted Ortiz and Wolenczak sitting at a table in the corner. They both looked depressed and didn't exactly brighten up when Tim sat down at the table. "What's the matter with you too?" he asked as he sipped his coffee.

"Don't ask," Lucas muttered.

"Must be bad. You took like someone cancelled Christmas."

"Worse than that," Miguel sighed.

"Worse than that?" Tim gazed at him curiously.

"This is like someone telling you Christmas is cancelled the day before."

"Oh, that bad, huh." Tim took another mouthful of his coffee and waited a while. Nothing happened. Miguel poked desultorily at the piece of cake on his plate and finally pushed it aside.

"You want this, Tim?"

"No. I feel fine."

"Oh? MacKenzie problem solved?"

"More or less, yes," Tim nodded. "He's currently playing poker with Bridger, Ford and Crocker. Krieg was going down to join them."

"My bet's on Crocker," Miguel commented.

"So's mine," Tim gave up waiting and prompted them. "Come on, guys, the suspense is killing me. What's so terrible?"

"Mei Ying dumped us," Lucas said gloomily.

"Both of you?"

"Yeah," Ortiz scowled.

"Who for?"

"Don't ask," Lucas grunted.

"Ford?"

"No."

"Bridger?" Tim was sure he had noticed a flicker of attraction there.

"She likes older men, but not that old," Lucas muttered. "Older than me anyway."

"Phillips?" Twin head shakes. "Krieg?"

"No," Ortiz growled. "She's not that desperate."

"MacCreedy then." The dark haired blue eyed ensign definitely had good bait. Magee had told Tim that when he had attempted to steer her in the ensign's direction. Unfortunately for Tim, Magee wasn't interested. She and MacCreedy were more like brother and sister than anything else.

"Oh please! He's younger than me and I said older!" Ortiz said in disgust.,

"No Lucas said older. And MacCreedy is older than him." Tim answered thoughtfully then ducked away from Miguel's sharply swung hand. "Hey! Don't hit me! I'm an officer."

"Tough."

Tim gave his friend a hurt look and thought fast. If it wasn't one of the senior officers or one of the Babehounds, it had to be someone Tim wouldn't suspect. "Okay, I give up. Who?"

"You won't laugh?" Lucas asked plaintively.

"Of course he will," Ortiz muttered, disgruntled and knowing Tim better than Lucas did.

"Come on, curiosity is killing me."

Lucas whispered something shyly.

"What?" Tim thought he had misheard and took another sip of his coffee.

"He said, Levine." Ortiz said loudly and smirked in dark triumph as O'Neill choked on his coffee.

"Oh, wait until I tell Ben. He's going to love this," Tim giggled through his splutters.

"How would you like to be thrown in the Moon Pool?" Ortiz demanded.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Don't bet on it," Ortiz met him glare for glare and slowly, grin for grin. Finally Miguel laughed too; glad to release the tensions of the last few days. "Okay, okay, so she's got strange tastes. There's plenty more fish in the sea."

"Or whales," Tim agreed with a solemn nod. He then turned his attention mischievously to Lucas and winked at the youth, ignoring Miguel's splutter of dismay as he said innocently,

"Tell me Lucas, have you ever met Miguel's sister Serena?"