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                                  CONTACT
                                Jessi Albano
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   Timeline: After "SeaQuest 2032" (after 3rd season)
   Author's E-Mail: cirrah@hotmail.com
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CONTACT
a seaQuest 2032 story
by Jessi Albano

based on characters from seaQuest DSV and seaQuest 2032

    It had been a quiet day, and one that Oliver Hudson, Captain of the
seaQuest,  had been unable to appreciate.

    He methodically studied the bridge, _his_ bridge, and the personnel
around him. His crew, he thought wryly. His people, his family. Aside
from Elaine, his still-angry Elaine,  he had no one else in the world. His
parents were dead, his sister had long ago washed her hands of him,
declaring that she would have nothing to do with a man who cared more for
a ship than for people. Alea had always been a people person, he thought
wryly. Out to save the world. But she had known she couldn't save him,
and she knew there were a million others that she could, so she had left.
He hadn't seen her for years.

    And so he had lost everyone else, even Janet, who for the longest
time had been the only person he could consider his friend. The only
person who had stood by him, right or wrong, and who  he could trust to
watch his back. The only person he didn't have to explain himself to, who
trusted him implicitly.

    For the millionth time he wondered if getting seaQuest was worth
the life he now lived. He missed Alea. He missed Elaine. He missed
Janet. He wanted them back. Wanted _them,_ not these people who
incessantly compared him to a paragon of an ex-Captain and seemed
paralyzed by a past that no one else on the planet shared.

    The past. Who was it that said that the past is another country?
He knew but the data escaped him at the moment. If there was a past that
was worth investigating, he decided, it was the past of the woman he and
Dr. Perry had discussed and argued over the night before.

    Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Ugly words. Words he had heard
countless times, conjuring images of old homeless people with vacant eyes.
Young men with horrible scars, old before their time. Images of violence
and alcoholism and endless pain.

    Certainly it did not conjure up images of beautiful young women
oozing control and determination from every pore.

    "That's impossible," he had snapped, "not to mention ludicrous. I
just left her on the bridge and she was fine. She was more than fine, she
was in her element."

    "I've seen her on the bridge, too," Dr. Perry had agreed
complacently, "and you're right. Up there she's impressive. She's calm,
alert -- full of restless energy. The question is, Captain, have you ever
seen her off the bridge?  Have you ever seen her anywhere when she's not on
duty?"

    He had wracked his brains for an answer. During the last two
months he had made it a point not to think of Kimura, not to think of what
had brought her to his boat, not to think of her than other than a soldier
At first he had treated her like any other new recruit, demanding
perfection, ready to pounce if she made the slightest mistake.  She had
made none. Lately he had taken to thinking of her as a temporary
inconvenience, one he had to live with but not allowing her to have more of
a foothold than necessary. He didn't like her, he didn't trust her so he
had taken to ignoring her except when it was absolutely necessary.  That
had been the fairest approach he could think of, the safest. Anything else
would have led to thoughts of Janet and Kimura's role in the loss of his
friend. It was either ignore Kimura or hate her, and as a Captain, he
couldn't do the second and still be fit to command.

    "The galley," he finally answered. "At breakfast."

    "Anywhere else?" Perry prodded. Hudson was silent. "Let me save
you the trouble, Captain. You haven't. She eats one meal a day, breakfast,
as we have already determined, and when she does she eats alone.
She doesn't sit with anyone, she doesn't talk to anyone."

    "So she's anti-social," said Hudson, sarcastically. "I think we
already knew that."

    Perry ignored him and continued with her list. "She never drinks
coffee or tea, just water, and she never asks for anything else but what is
placed in front of her. It takes her exactly ten minutes.  She leaves her
quarters exactly three times in a normal day -- to eat breakfast, to go on
duty, and to go to the gym where she spends exactly four hours working out.
On her free days she leaves her quarters twice, she spends six hours at
the gym, and exactly one hour doing her laundry. And by the way, Captain,
all she seems to have are UEO uniforms, plus two pairs of jeans and a few
black t-shirts. That's all. I had housekeeping peek at her cabin and guess
what?  She has no books, no holos, and the trash receptacle is always, and
I mean _always_ empty. No stashes of candy or junkfood either."

    "Are you telling me I should be worried because I have an A-type
personality on board?" he had asked humorously, trying to stamp down an
unexplained sense of guilt.

    "She sleeps ten hours a day," Perry had added quietly.

    "What?" That had gotten his attention.

    "You heard me," she had nodded.  "Ten hours a day, Captain. And
even longer during her free days."

    Dear Lord, he had thought, alarms ringing in his mind. Then,
suspiciously, he had asked "How do you know all this?  Have you been spying
on my commander?"

    "She was scheduled for her 8th week check-up last Friday," Perry
had  explained. "When she didn't show up I went to her cabin. She was
asleep, at four in the afternoon. I had sent a medic to remind her of the
appointment at noon. She had been asleep then, too. Since then I've had
people regularly check on her in the guise of asking stupid questions. She
does it everyday."  She waited until Hudson had sat heavily upon his chair
before continuing,  "Do you want to hear the results of the physical?"

    "Just get to the point" Hudson had growled.

    "She's mostly fine, physically, except for her blood sugar, which
is to be expected considering her diet. What worries me is her body
temperature is lower than normal. And her heartbeat is slower, too. When
I ask questions she has to think about the answers. Even to questions as
mundane as what she had for breakfast."  She had paused, and then had
summarized her conclusion with "She's exhibiting all the classic symptoms
of being in shock, Captain."

    "But that's impossible,"  he had protested again. "She's fine.
Her reflexes are damn near perfect and she has a mouth on her like you
wouldn't believe."

    "On the bridge, Captain," Dr. Perry had qualified. "Or in her
specter. Or maybe I should say when she's on duty. She's okay when she's
on duty. When she's not, she's..."

    "She's what?"

    "I don't know how to say it, Captain... Precise. Distant.
Disconnected. Like she's not there."  She was quiet. "I've seen this
before. With POWs."

    "PTSS," he had said, in slow understanding. Then, unwilling to
display any humanity towards Kimura, curtly disagreed. "She's not a
POW."

    "Isn't she?" Perry had asked ironically. "Think about it, Captain.
Think about who she is, what she's been through. It makes perfect sense.
For twenty years she was always on guard, afraid for her life. She was
surrounded by enemies she had to constantly face and fight. Here she
doesn't have to be afraid for her life, but there are other battles  that
maybe she doesn't know how to deal with. Just like our vets did when they
came home from the war."

    "It can't be," he had continued to argue, angry now that the doctor
and at the memories that were rushing back. "She's too strong, too
determined. Just last week she almost reduced Piccolo to a mass of jelly
because he reacted a fraction too slowly during a practice run. She's the
perfect warrior, cool, calculating, fearless."

    "She's also a human being, Captain,"  Perry had snapped.
"Something you and your crew seem to have forgotten. She's a young woman
with no friends, no family, and who, for all intents and purposes, might as
well have come from an entirely different planet. She has no idea how to
deal with _this_ world, Captain. All she has is her job, and her
vengeance."  She had sighed heavily, worriedly. "You think she's a
machine? A monster? If this goes on, she will be. She's withdrawing,
Captain. She's shutting down. And if she succeeds, I don't think you
could ever get her back."

    PTSS, thought Hudson. Even in the 21st century they couldn't fully
explain it. Even in with the growth of parapsychology and alternative
forms of medicine the human mind was still a dark labyrinth you  had to
navigate through alone.

    "So what can you do for her?" he  had asked, hoping there was an
easier answer than the one he was hoping not to hear.

    "There's nothing much I can do for her, Captain," Perry had
answered. "I prescribed a change of diet and vitamins, but with the
implant and her metabolism, I can't risk any drugs. I just don't know how
it will affect her. I'd have liked to do a catscan but we have no grounds
for one and she knows it."

    "I wonder if we can get her an honorable discharge." he had
mused, though he had immediately discarded the idea. McGath would never
condone it.

    "No. And before you say it, no, a vacation won't work either. The
last thing she needs is more idle time on her hands." Perry's voice had a
definite ring of finality. "This job is all she has, Captain. Take it
away and she'll go mad.  Besides, what grounds do you plan to use
Captain?" argued Perry. "That she chooses to spend her free time sleeping?
That she watches her weight? You'd be laughed out of the military and
women groups would have a field day. I just told you, there's nothing
really wrong with her. Not yet anyway. You can still help her. Besides,
we all know she's the best damn sub fighter pilot you've seen and her
expertise in weapons and security is phenomenal. You need her."

    Hudson ignored the last part of the conversation. "Can you
honestly tell me she poses no danger to my ship or my crew?" he had
demanded. "That she won't snap one day and run us all into a rock?"

    "I told you, Captain," answered Perry. "She's not losing control,
she's shutting down. She won't explode -- she's falling back into herself.
Like a star collapsing into black hole. It won't happen overnight. If it
gets worse you'll have plenty of time to get rid of her. Doing it now will
only accelerate it."

    "How about a shrink?" he had suggested. "Therapy?"

    "She's resisted all our efforts so far," Dr. Perry had shot back.
"It wouldn't do any good anyway. I can tell you right now  what she
needs, Captain."

    "And that is?"  he had prompted.

    "Contact," Perry had stated.  "Good old fashioned human contact.
And not just more official interaction. In other words, she needs a social
life."

    "I think that order's a little tall, Doctor," he had answered. "I
don't think you could pay any one of my crew to give her a hand up if she
tripped, much less be her friend."

    "There's always you," she had suggested dryly.  "As far as I can
Ysee you could use a little human contact yourself."

    "You're not suggesting I date her, are you Doctor?"  he had laughed
again, and her face had tightened in anger.

    "What she needs, Captain, is a life outside of the bridge,
outside of her duties. Something else to focus on, to think about."

    Hudson made one last attempt at staying unmoved, unconcerned. "Just
tell me this, Doctor, you know what a manipulative little bitch she is,
can you guarantee she's not faking this?"

    "I can't." she answered shortly. "Here are her medical files, you
can make your own conclusions."  She handed Hudson a file, and made to
leave. Then at the last moment she turned back. "I just want to say two
more things, Captain. One, it's imperative you remember that right now
this job is all she has. Two, being her Captain gives you certain rights
over this woman, yes. You can treat her whatever way you want. But
remember that being Captain gives you certain responsibilities as well.
She's out there fighting for you. You owe it to her to watch her back, not
to applaud when you see she's sinking. And believe me, Captain, your
commander _is_ sinking. She's strong,  yes. She's a fighter, yes, but she
can't fight this because she probably doesn't even know it's happening."
She seemed to take pity on Hudson and her voice softened. "I know you
loved Janet, and I know you miss her. And I know you don't trust Kimura.
But you are the Captain of the seaQuest she is _your_  lieutenant
commander. You have to reach her. You have to help her."

    After the doctor had left Hudson had studied the files, growing
grimmer with each new piece of data. Damn it, he had thought. Reaching
people is not one of my specialties. And I'd rather reach for a piranha
any day.

    Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. It would be a funny disease if it
weren't so tragic. Once he had known a refugee who had smuggled his and
his brother's family out of Macronesia. Twelve people had spent 52 days in
days in a small transport vehicle that comfortably carried four. When
they had reached the border safely, Hudson had been amazed at their
fortitude, at their survival. Three days later, after the hospital had
declared that the children were safe and out of danger the man had sat down
to rest on a chair and died. His heart just stopped, the doctors had said.
And there were a thousand other stories crowding his head, a million.

    Now as he watched the woman in question out of the corner of his
eye he thought again of the many hats he wore, the biggest one being
Captain of the seaQuest.

    Janet had been his friend, as well as his second in command.
Because of Janet he had never been alone. But like everyone else on
seaQuest he had a past, one that molded him, one that colored his
decisions, one that made him what he was. And in his past, long before
there was a Janet, there had been a man and there had been a war.

    The man had come home, eventually, but he had brought the war with
him, inside of him, and there was no way that a boy of seven could have
escaped it. The man had tried, once, to explain to the boy how there were
ghosts around, how only whiskey could chase them away, could keep them
quiet, could make them stop asking him to come with them. Whiskey, the man
had said, and sleep. For five years the man had drank and slept, and the
boy had watched silently, helplessly. It had taken five years and the
birth of a daughter for the man to leave the war behind. It had taken five
years and a little sister before the boy had gotten his father back.

    But only, the boy had known, because finally the man had wanted to
come back. Because finally, he had had something to come back to.

    Damn, he thought. He didn't trust Kimura, didn't like her, didn't
want to be caught up in her past, in her pain. He had enough of his own.
He didn't want to be trapped in her web like O'Neill had been, didn't want
to betray Janet's memory by helping the woman who had been indirectly
responsible for her death. He didn't want to give Kimura a chance.

    His mind flashed back to the day she had told them all about the
Chaodai, about herself, about her parents. He had seen the steely
determination in her eyes, heard the lack of remorse in her voice,
recognized the finality of her actions. He knew what she was capable of.
She had already sold her soul to be free, and she was prepared to do
worse, much worse to stop the Chaodai. She was a user, willing to
sacrifice everything and everyone for her vengeance. He didn't trust her,
_couldn't_ risk trusting her.

    And his crew, how could he ask this of them?  For all their
shortcomings they were a unit, they stood together -- supporting, defending
each other. Kimura had gravely wounded one of their own and like a pack
they had closed protectively around the wounded and bared their teeth
against the attacker.  There was no way he could ask them to help her.

     But could _he_ risk not helping her? Kimura -- liar, traitor,
killer. Chaodai warrior, Shayu pilot. Lt. Cdr. Kimura of the seaQuest.
_His_ Lt. Commander.  The woman who had risked her life, and that of his
crew, to expose a danger no one could have imagined and therefore could
never have fought against. The woman who took in the glares, the
whispers, the blatant hate directed at her and fought back with nothing
more than clear cool eyes, a head held proudly high and a ramrod straight
spine. Could he stand to see her lost -- this strong, courageous,
cold-hearted woman, who, like his father, carried her own war within her
and who, in a perfect world, could have been his sister, could have been
his friend?

     If he did nothing now, would he survive?  Could he take one more
stain upon his soul?

                                 ***

    Kimura trudged along to the moonpool slowly, carrying the pail full
of fish.  Feeding the dolphin, she thought disgustedly. How transparent
Hudson had been in giving the order. As if she and the rest of the crew
weren't fully aware of the fact that Darwin could swim out of the access
tubes anytime he was hungry. Another order, she thought grimly, in a
long line of orders meant to humble her and make it clear how the Captain
despised her. How she would never really be part of his crew.

    She didn't mind, not really. Though it galled her to think that
Hudson thought he could do this to her. _Her._  A Shayu pilot doing
scrounge work. Well, she'd done worse.

    She just wished Hudson had asked her to do something more...
physical. A thousand push-ups sounded good.  Scrubbing the decks of the
moonpool. Taking apart a wall with her bare hands. Something she could
get into, expend energy on. Or a puzzle, a problem that needed solving.
Last night she'd finally figured out why the rear engines weren't
performing at peak levels. A simple adjustment could increase the power by
16% at least. Not that she planned to tell them. She figured one of these
nights she'd slip into the engineering sector and do it herself. Not
tonight, though. She had to feed the damn dolphin.

    "Hello, Darwin," she said, speaking into the vocorder that Hudson
had thrust into her hand after giving his order. Like all new crew members
she had been introduced to Darwin, and Darwin's interpretation of her name
entered into the memory bank of the vocorder. "Hungry?" she asked wryly.

    "Kimura play!" squeaked Darwin, overjoyed at the prospect. "Play
with Darwin!"

    "No, Darwin," she answered, matter-of-factly. "It's time for your
dinner."  Taking one of the fish from the bucket she flung it into the
water where it landed not far from where Darwin was swimming.

    "Not hungry," protested Darwin. "Kimura play with Darwin."  Taking
the fish into his snout Darwin tossed his head and threw it back towards
Kimura. With her perfect reflexes Kimura caught the fish in midair.

    "Stop that. It's bad manners to play with your food," she
scolded, tossing the fish back to the pool.

    "Food fun!" Darwin said. "Darwin play!" Again, Darwin playfully
tossed the fish back at her, and again, she readily caught it. The
exchange happened a few times more before a shy voice interrupted their
efforts.

    "You have to _give_ him the fish if you want him to eat," Dagwood
said, taking the fish out her hand and giving it to Darwin, who in turn
chewed and swallowed the fish obediently. "You see?" Dagwood said,
triumphantly. "Here," he continued, taking another fish out of the bucket
and handing it to Kimura. "You try it," he urged.

    Reluctantly, Kimura extended the fish to Darwin, a pleased look
lighting her eyes when the dolphin gently took it from her hand and ate it.
"Good boy," she said, slowly petting the silky head.

    "Darwin likes you," said Dagwood happily, adding "Darwin likes
everybody."

    "Yes, Darwin likes everybody," she agreed. Even her, it seemed.
One by one she and Dagwood fed the fish to Darwin until there were none
left. Dagwood didn't say much, just made occasional crooning noises to
Darwin. She leaned down to pet Darwin one more time and started to leave
when Dagwood quietly added in his usual childlike fashion. "If you want to
play some more with Darwin, he has a ball. I bought it for him. I could
go get it."

    She hesitated. "I don't think that's a good idea, Dagwood," she
said gently. "You can play with Darwin after I leave."

    "Kimura stay!" Darwin ordered imperiously, bobbing his head up and
down in the water.  "Play with Darwin and Dagwood!"

    Dagwood grinned at her. "I'll go get the ball," he said, and left
before she could protest. He was back in seconds, clutching a bright red
ball the size of a grapefruit. "Here," he said, handing the ball to
Kimura. "You go first."

    She stood there, holding the ball in her hand, wondering how it was
possible that though an entire army of Chaodai warriors couldn't make her
stay when she wanted to leave, a dolphin and a GELF apparently could.

    "Throw it," urged Dagwood.

    "Throw!" squealed Darwin, punctuating the word by moving his tail
and drenching both Kimura and Dagwood from head to toe.

    The smile caught her by surprise, getting away from her before she
could stop it.  Dagwood laughed, and Darwin jumped up into the air, his
high squeaks filling the air. She threw the ball as far as she could
across the pool, but Darwin, lightning-fast, managed to catch it before it
touched the water. Soon all three were engaged in killer game of three-way
catch - three prime specimens of their species, testing abilities, pushing
limits.

    "Everything alright here, Commander?" Hudson's voice cut across
their activity, halting their play.

    She turned towards him, squarely meeting the cold and forbidding
look. "Everything is fine, Captain," she answered coolly, offering no
excuses, no explanations.

    "Good," said Hudson, noting their wet clothes with a disapproval.
"You two better get out of those wet clothes" he ordered crisply, "an
outbreak of colds is the last thing this ship needs."

    "Yes sir," agreed Kimura. Dagwood saluted and hurried away to
follow his orders.

    God, Hudson thought dully as he turned to leave. Let this be the
right thing. Don't let this be a mistake.

    After Hudson had left Kimura turned back to Darwin, a small secret
smile of triumph lighting her face. "My game," she declared.

    And laughed.

THE END
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copyright Jessi Albano