Date: Fri, 12 Sep 1997 22:55:48 +0100 From: seaQuest To: seaquest-ff@escapenet.org Subject: (SQFF) Calm Before the Storm- Prologue Message-ID: <3419BA64.604A@cris.com> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the prologue of my next long-awaited Fan Fiction, starring the Season 2 cast and Michael J. Martindale. It's my attempt of a copy at Tom Clancy's _Red Storm Rising,_ the greatest military book ever written. Now, without further ado, the prologue of _Calm Before the Storm._ -MJP ------------ PROLOGUE February 19, 2018 Somewhere in the North Sea 1043 Zulu It was a standard Alfa-class attack submarine. One of the old front line subs of the former Soviet Union, it was fully rated and unmodified for combat. This was a sight to see in the modern littoral navies of patched-up barely-rated combat subs, but this Alfa was just as it was, fresh from the factories. It maneuvered at a standard rate for an Alfa. It plodded along at a comfortable 45 knots. In all respects, it was a regular Alfa. Except for one. Tanker traffic could proceed normally, without fear, in the sea near Norway. Genius-level computers predicted weather and programmed alternate course routings. Still, UEO charter called for at least one armed surface ship escort, at all times, for insurgents that might not even exist. It was just at that time one of the insurgents struck. The Carter-class cruiser was at port-and-starboard steaming. Their sensors were programmed to detect high-speed, short-range modern torpedoes. Old sonar patterns were not programmed into its memory. Which is the exact reason why the four Mark C 533-millimeter warshots went unnoticed. Two of the Mark C's acquired the frigate and homed in like the remorseless robots they were. Only two lookouts were able to alert the combat control center aboard the cruiser. Two rapid active sonar pings were sent out on the torpedo bearing, acquiring a mid-sized target at ten thousand yards. The ship turned to the bearing, but it was too late. The torpedoes packed over a ton of high explosive, and hit at strategic points on the stern and amidships. Fifteen compartments were vented to the sea and more burst under the pressure. Moments later, the cruiser sank with all hands. The captain had only been able to send out a fragmented distress call. The Alfa sub lurked out, periscope up, noticing their handiwork had been completed. They relayed the data via underwater telephone to their base sub, miles back. Phase One complete. Phase Two was still at sea, with two torpedoes closing in. The _H.R. Clinton_ was under a formidable command. Captain Katherine Hitchcock was keeping a tight watch of the huge tanker/container ship, even under peacetime conditions. All of this changed with the explosion on the horizon. "Bridge, radar! The _Reagan_ is breaking up!" Captain Hitchcock picked up the intercom. Years of training and a tour of duty on the UEO flagship seaQuest kicked in immediately. The _Reagan_ transmitted readiness reports every thirty minutes. No anomalies had been reported on the last report, so the explosion could only mean one thing. "All hands, this is the captain! Our escort has taken a hit and is sinking! Assume that the threat is still active. Initiate Buddy Time procedures! Stand by to man the lifeboats." She put down the microphone and turned to her deck crew. "Mr. Cavanaugh, stand by to jettison decoys. Helm, all ahead full, and get to a lifeboat!" Suddenly a young ensign crashed through the door. "Torpedoes on the port bow!" he shouted. Hitchcock took a pair of binoculars and looked in that direction. Swearing to herself, she saw them. Two white wakes, a few feet apart, coming towards her bow. They weren't as fast as modern ones, she thought. If they were, we'd be dead by now. She looked to her side. "Mr. Vincenti?" Her Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Rich Vincenti snapped to attention. "Ma'am?" "Take the comm. Warn the UEO. Tell them about the sneak attack, the speed of the torps, anything you can find. If those squids can move fast enough, they can collect our lifeboats." Vincenti saluted. "Aye aye." He sat down at the commo terminal and patched in to the UEO North Atlantic Command frequency. "Mayday, mayday. This is the USS _H.R. Clinton_. We have been fired upon by a 1980s-vintage Alfa-class submarine. We are abandoning ship, I repeat, we are evacuating. Coordinates will be included in burst transmission. Repeat, this is the USS _H.R. Clinton_, requesting search and rescue." Having completed the voice transmission, he pressed the "Burst" button on the communications console, lifted the cover over the amber button, and pressed it. Checking to see that the satellite confirmed the message, he stood up and nodded. "Done, ma'am." Hitchcock nodded, picking up the intercom again. The message was copied by UEO Headquarters in New Cape Quest, and relayed to the Russian UEO District, then bounced orders to the Long-Range Aviation and Anti-Submarine forces at Kirovsk and Arkhangel'sk. A flight group of rickety Tu-142 "Bear-F" ASW planes took off to search for the renegade Alfa, and several fast-attack surface ships set out for the rescue point. "All hands, abandon ship! Head officers, check for all your people before leaving. Fill lifeboats to capacity. SAR is on the way." Putting down the microphone, she took one last glance at the ship's bridge. The _Clinton_ had been good to her, and now she had to leave it. Why couldn't we at least have intercepts, or a low power laser, she thought. They could die because of them! Damn the UEO! She looked to Vincenti, and nodded. "Everyone, get to your lifeboats! Pronto!" The bridge crew scattered out the exits. Vincenti and Hitchcock took the lower passageway to one of the large Zodiac lifeboats, opened the escape doors, and motored out. The boats were sufficient only for two days of unsupported survival. As they passed out the large doors, Hitchcock noticed other Zodiacs congregating behind her. A security detail took up the rear. At this time, the torpedoes were only a few hundred yards from the _Clinton_. The Mark C torpedoes struck the ship's stern seconds afterward. A massive spray of water lanced up and back down, driving the bow of the ship high into the air. Bubbles stopped as the propellors were shut down, and the boat began to sank. Captain Katherine Hitchcock looked back at her tanker. Tears began to well up in her eyes as the ship bobbed and sunk below the waves, slowly. It was the saddest sight she had ever seen. As the Osa fast-attack boats came alongside and the Bear-F aircraft flew overhead, dropping sonobouys in a desperate search for one of their own old subs, she had vowed to wreak her vengeance, through all that she could possibly do. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Date: Sat, 13 Sep 1997 12:39:40 +0100 From: seaQuest To: seaquest-ff@escapenet.org Subject: (SQFF) Calm Before the Storm- Part 1 Message-ID: <341A7B7B.5CCC@cris.com> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit You've seen the prologue. It piqued your interest. Now, here we go. Part One of my new fan fic, _Calm Before the Storm._ -MJP -------- CALM BEFORE THE STORM By Michael J. Pfeffer February 20, 2018 Arkhangel'sk Fleet Base, UEO Russia Berth 2950- seaQuest DSV 1300 Zulu "Well, Katie, I wish we could have met under better circumstances." Commander Jonathan Ford and Captain Katherine Hitchcock were overseeing the fleet operations at the naval base. The seaQuest had been docked and they were both padded up in cold-weather gear for the near-Arctic temperatures of northern Russia and were holding steaming cups of tea. "You're telling me. First my tanker gets blown, and now they shove us off to Russia. I miss the sea, Jon." She took a sip of her tea and winced. "Now this is strong. If there's two good things the Russians make, it's missile boats and tea." Jon gazed out to the huge aircraft carrier _Kuznetsov_ at its pier. The massive ship had been the Russian Northern Fleet's only carrier for decades. It was in close proximity to 2950, where the seaQuest was docked. "What's the deal with that sub, anyway? All the Russian subs are here in dock, under UEO control, except for that one that attacked you. What was it's name?" "_Varyag_," Hitchcock replied. "Rumors say that it's a faction of rogue Communist hard-liners. I think they stole a Typhoon and an Akula from Polyarnyy also." Ford sighed. "Great. They've got two subs so quiet we can't find them unless the WSKRS fall right on top of them, and one really noisy one." They looked out towards the ocean, parts of it white with pack ice, and the fleet docks where the majority of the Red Banner Fleet was kept. In wartime, these ships and subs were meant to be the force that would starve Europe into submission with powerful aircraft and missiles. Now they were merely a peacekeeping fleet suitable for border patrol work, and the only strength whatsoever of the Russian Navy. A midshipman dressed in Northern Fleet uniform handed a message form each to Ford and Hitchcock. They returned his salute and opened the forms. "Well, looks like the seaQuest is going out. We're supposed to find that sub. Why not just task us to outlaw chocolate?" Ford looked over Katie's shoulder to see her form. He couldn't see the message, but her face was ecstatic. "They've given me command! It's a Maine-class research sub!" Ford patted her shoulder. "That's great! Congratulations, Katie." She was babbling on and on. "I need to get to the airfield! You! Yeah, you! Stoy! Stop! Hey!" She rushed off for someone who looked to be an officer. Ford shrugged. "Nice seeing you too, Katie." He walked back to the boat and was on the bridge a few minutes later. Draping his parka over the back of his chair, he sat down at the XO's station. "Mr. O'Neill, is all the crew accounted for?" Lieutenant J.G. Timothy O'Neill checked a status screen. "All present and accounted for, sir." Ford looked around the bridge. "Where's Lieutenant Martindale?" Shrugs were shared across the bridge. "I think he's in his cabin, sir. Got some stuff from a souvenir shop on the base. He's puttin' up posters like mad, sir." Ensign Tony Piccolo walked on to the bridge. Ford sighed. He never did like Brooklyn accents that much. "Thank you, ensign." "Wan' me to go get 'im, sir?" Ford shook his head. "No, you're on watch. Lucas, go on and get him. He knows something about old subs. That could help us." seaQuest DSV- Berthing Compartment Six-Zulu Lieutenant Michael Jameson Martindale was in his cabin, hanging up numerous posters with writing in Russian. His room was decorated with pictures and posters. Most of them were aircraft, others were of the seaQuest, and scattered others. But his favorite, down pat, was an 8x10 picture in a black onyx frame with inlaid silver. It was Melissa Andrews, his girlfriend. His one. His only. He paused from hanging up a Frontal Aviation poster to pick up the picture. "Love ya, babe," he said, and gave the poster a quick kiss. Michael smiled. He felt loved, even when she wasn't around. Melissa was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him since he first read Tom Clancy's _Red Storm Rising._ Even compared to Tom Clancy, Melissa ranked above them all. Even though she was a Dagger, sure, she was teased by the superficial people. Sure, people didn't exactly love different things. Who cared? GELFs like Dagwood and Melissa were great people. Still smiling, he went back to hanging up the poster, throwing an occasional glance at Melissa's picture. The Frontal Aviation recruiting poster was laminated and it curled up a lot. Frowning, he attempted to hold up one end, but was unsuccessful. After trying to hold three corners with two hands and one foot, he lost his balance afterwards and fell off the ladder. It wasn't that much of a fall- only two feet, but it stung enough to teach him better. "So much for that idea," he thought. A knock sounded from his door. "Yeah, c'mon in," he yelled, still tangled up under the poster. The door slid open with a _whoosh_ of pressurized air, and Lucas Wolenczak walked in. The teenager always had the air of confidence and quiet cool about him. "Hey, Mike, what's up?" Michael rolled his eyes. "Nothing. I'm only going to take a fast nap, but I'm too tired to get to the bed. So I decided to use this poster instead. Can you help me here? This thing weighs a ton!" Lucas shrugged. "Sure, you got it." The poster was heavy- a laminated display of Russian aircraft since 1950. So much had to be displayed on a _very_ large display. Lucas lifted it up, rolled it into a tube, secured it with a rubber band, and helped Michael up. "Thanks, man." Michael brushed off. "And please, don't call me Mike." "Right, gotcha. Anyway, they want you on the bridge. Something about an expertise in old Russian attack subs." Michael raised his eyebrows. "What for?" Lucas shrugged. "I don't know. Something about an Alfa insurgent. Anyway, the Captain brought me to get you." Michael nodded. "Thanks, Lucas." They both walked out. "I gotta go down to the Seadeck. See you at lunch?" "Sure, bud. See you later." Michael walked up to the MagLev transport system and punched the call button. In a moment, the doors opened and the internal speaker spoke: "MagLev engaged. Be seated to avoid injury." Lieutenant Loni Henderson was already there. "Loni! What's goin' on?" Loni smiled. Michael seemed to be one of the more sociable and friendly people on the boat. He and Loni got along pretty well. It was her inspiration, in fact, that had inspired him to meet Melissa. Shame that he was only 15, though. "Hey, what's up with this old Russian sub stuff?" Loni shook her head. I don't know. Something with a renegade Communist group. They made off with a Typhoon, an Alfa, and.. what was that other one? Oh yeah, an Akula." Michael's eyes widened. "Man, those guys are smart! The Typhoon is a ballistic missile sub, one of the quietest and biggest in the old days. The Akula is a quiet and fast attack sub, and the Alfa was the fastest back in the '90s. 45 knots, and really noisy." Loni had a puzzled look on her face. "Why would they steal old subs?" Michael shrugged. "I don't know. I think that today's sonar systems can't register boats like that and their weapons. We could have some trouble finding the Typhoon and Akula, but that Alfa should be easy pickings." Loni's eyes widened. "But what do they want?" Michael shrugged again. "If we knew, would we be here now?" The MagLev slowed and came to a stop. The system spoke again: "Bridge. Thank you for riding MagLev." Michael and Loni stepped out. "Yeah, thanks. It's been great," Michael shot back to the MagLev cart. Michael had managed to locate an old book of fleet submarines from the Frunze electronic library in Moscow. He was briefing Captain Bridger and the crew about what they were up against. He started with some of their old standard subs. "Okay- Charlie-class. It's a cruise missile sub- carries twelve SS-N-9 anti-ship missiles. Keep in mind that they all have at least six torpedo tubes with older torps and SS-N-14 rocket-assisted torpedoes. Those things are nasty. They're like our old Mark 50 Sea Lance boosted torpedo. Max range- 40 miles. Max missile range- 100 miles." He pressed a few buttons and moved on to another. "Victor I through III-class- One of their best. Maneuverable, mostly fast, and a hell of a weapons load. Comparable in quieting to one of our smaller subs. Next up- Alfa-class. This is the one we shouldn't be worried about. It's mainly fast, but noisier than a UEO general's conference." This line drew some chuckles, which Commander Ford glared out. "Akula-class- this is the one we ought to be most afraid of. Fast, quiet, maneuverable like greased lightning. Eight torpedo tubes, same warload. No missiles. Rumor has it that they've taken a Typhoon, too. They can end the world with that. It's an SSBN, probably without missiles, but we really can't tell." Michael nodded to the computer operator, and he cut off the projector. "Ladies and gentlemen, we can surely outdo these subs. But if these Russian insurgents were from the higher echelons, then they know how to make those boats dance. The trick will be finding them. That's all I have to say." Michael stepped down from the platform and handed it off to Commander Ford. Ford started to give instructions to the bridge crew. "Ortiz, deploy all the WSKRS that you don't have being serviced and set them on long-range passive sonar and visual search patterns. Helm, have us at two-thirds speed on a hundred-mile racetrack pattern for one circuit, then extend it for a two hundred mile circuit. Brody, take tactical. Have three tubes with grapnel torpedoes, and load the rest with E-Plasma, fifty percent power. Anyone else, we'll maintain watch schedules. Get some sleep, people. We've got a busy week coming up." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Date: Sun, 14 Sep 1997 15:49:03 +0100 From: seaQuest To: seaquest-ff@escapenet.org Subject: (SQFF) Calm Before the Storm- Part Two Message-ID: <341BF95F.479D@cris.com> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Ladies and gentlemen, here it is- part two of _Calm Before the Storm_. Enjoy, and don't forget to send back your comments! -MJP ------- seaQuest DSV- on patrol in the North Sea 0700 Zulu It was Lieutenant Miguel Ortiz's fifth hour on sensor watch. He was tired. Port-and-starboard meant six hours on duty, six hours off. Six hours off. That meant fifteen minutes after watch for briefing the next crewman, thirty minutes of debriefing, and twenty for a quick meal. Also, he was expected to be early for next watch. Everyone was tired. Tired sailors make mistakes. That was why Miguel was surprised to hear something in his passive WSKRS display. He punched a few buttons to amplify the signal and deploy two other sensors to track the contact. He turned in his chair to find Lieutenant Martindale for a fast check. He was over at tactical, checking out some details on the torpedoes loaded. "Look, Jim, most of these subs have a titanium alloy hull. They can dive to nineteen hundred feet, they'll need a powerful hull. Fifty percent power won't cut it." Brody shook his head. "I don't think that would be a good idea. From what you said, the Alfa is fast." Michael pointed to a figure on the weapons panel. "Look- our torps can go twice as fast as the boat itself. We can sacrifice speed for warhead strength." Brody shrugged. "You're the one who knows these things. I'll get to it." As Michael stood up, Ortiz called out for him. "Hey, Michael, I got something for you to look at." Wearily, he walked over to the WSKRS display. Michael looked more tired than anyone on the boat. He had been working 24 hours, classifying and helping out the crew with their search for the old subs. Bags were forming under his eyes, and he was moving sluggishly. Captain Bridger had patched into the display and walked over to see what was up. Miguel was filling Michael in on the contact. "We acquired him at about fifty miles out on one of the drones. Here, check out this sound signature." Michael put the insulated headphones to his ears. The steady chug-chug-chug of the Alfa's screws resounded. "Yep, that's our Alfa. He's probably going at about thirty knots." He gave Miguel the headphones back. "Get fire-control running a solution. Use Target Motion Analysis. Triangulate his exact position. I'll be around if you need me again. Don't use anything active. We need to hunt him, and if we move, he gets spooked, and clears datum out of here." Miguel nodded. As Michael was turning around, Captain Bridger put a hand on his shoulder. "Lieutenant, when did you last sleep?" Michael shrugged. "When did we leave port?" Captain Bridger patted his back. "Have some sack time. You need it." Michael shook his head. "Can't, captain. You need me here. I..." Bridger held up a hand. "That's an order, Lieutenant." Michael nodded and smiled. "I'll be happy to comply with that, cap'n." Michael walked to the closed bridge clamshell doors and waited as they opened up. He stumbled to the MagLev, traveled back to his berth, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. 1500 Zulu "Lieutenant Martindale, to the wardroom. Lieutenant Martindale, please report to the wardroom." The intercom announcement startled Michael from his restful slumber. Not fully awake, he tried to roll over in bed but ended up rolling onto the floor. "Ow!" he yelled, rubbing his shoulder. "That's gonna leave a mark." Pulling himself up, he brushed off, opened the door, and walked out to the wardroom, only a few steps away. Opening the door, he noticed an ensign with a clipboard. "You Lieutenant Martindale?" he asked. Michael nodded. "Last time I checked, I'm your man. What's up?" The ensign motioned to the vidcomm. "Phone call. Want some privacy?" Michael's expression brightened. His parents didn't know he was in the future, and there was only one person who knew that he was on seaQuest... "Yeah, sure." The ensign walked out the door. Michael punched up his private code and the vidscreen activated, showing an image of Melissa Andrews. He sighed. "Babe, you are a sight for sore eyes." Melissa smiled. She had shoulder-length shiny black hair and dark eyes that sparkled like her smile. "Well, maybe you ought to go on deployment more often." Michael rolled his eyes. "Please. If I could tell you what they've got me doing, you'd want me back." Melissa looked concerned. "What do they have you doing?" He fidgeted. "Er... I'm not supposed to tell. Wish I could, though." Melissa shrugged. "Well, I don't want to kill your UEO career for revealing classified information. What _can_ you tell me, if anything?" Michael smiled and reached into his pocket. He and Melissa both liked collecting military medals, and he had spoken to an admiral who had plenty to spare. "What I can tell you is that I got you this." He pulled a small grey velvet jewelry box from his pocket and opened it up so Melissa could see. It was a gold star attached to a short red ribbon. The Hero of the Soviet Union Medal. "I'll get it to you as soon as we get back, okay?" Melissa was joyful. "Michael, that's so great of you! You didn't have to get me anything! How much was that?" Michael grinned. "Free. An admiral gave it to me, he had three already. Some big campaign, huh?" Melissa's smile was getting bigger by the moment. She put her hand to the screen. "I miss you, hon. Come back soon." Michael put his hand to hers. "I love you, and I'll do whatever I can to get home faster." With that, they bid each other goodbye and disconnected just as the alarm sounded. "General quarters! General quarters! Lieutenant Martindale, to the bridge! All hands, man your battle stations!" Michael accidentally tossed the medal in the air in alarm but caught it before it could fall out of the box. "Well, at least I got in a good conversation." Michael took the MagLev to the bridge and rushed up to the sensor station. "What've you got?" Miguel punched up some data. "The Alfa's increased speed. They must have seen us. Here, listen." Ortiz pressed a button and the sounds of the Alfa were projected to the sonar station. Michael scrunched his brow in thought, and suddenly a _whirr-thump_ noise startled him. "They've just opened torpedo tube doors! Where's the captain and XO?" A look around the bridge informed him. "Someone has to take command!" Many eyes looked to him. "Michael, come on! You know more about old sub doctrine than we all do!" Michael looked around. His shipmates were suddenly throwing their lives on his shoulders. He had to take command. He squared his shoulders and stood by the captain's chair. "I have the conn! All ahead emergency! Stand by on the lasers! We need to take the captain of the other ship alive, he can tell us what's going on here!" He nodded to Brody. "Jim, fire the lasers when you have a solution at his propeller." Brody nodded. "Yes... sir." Michael sat in the captain's chair, one of the most coveted positions on the seaQuest. "Ladies and gentlemen, let's get going." The Alfa was turning port-to-starboard in a target-motion-analysis maneuver. This left its propeller easily exposed to a short barrage of MIRACL laser fire from the seaQuest. Brody hit the screw dead-on, bisecting it from the main hull. The Alfa's captain realized he had no ability to maneuver or dive. Cursing his defeat, he got on the vidcomm to send a surrender message to their attacker. The man spoke with a thick Russian accent. "Stop your attack! Please! I will surrender!" Michael was stunned. He expected more of a fight from the _Varyag_. It was his first surrender as well as his first command. He composed himself. "Very well. Prepare to receive a shuttle, my officers and I will be aboard to discuss terms." The Russian nodded. "We will do so." With that, the vidcomm was disconnected. Michael turned to Brody. "Jim, send out an unmanned shuttle. Set it on a standard course." The bridge crew all turned and stared at him with incredulity. Henderson spoke up. "Michael, what's with this?" He smiled. "Standard Russian Communist doctrine is never to give up. Lucas?" Lucas turned around and fired up his hacking programs. Michael nodded. "Let's get a systems dump from them. Jim, where's that shuttle?" Brody was punching in a few commands. In a moment, he looked up. "Shuttle's away. You sure you know what you're doing?" Michael gestured to the main display screen. "Watch. Miguel, can we get a WSKR a few klicks back from the shuttle?" Ortiz nodded. "You got it." The shuttle seemed to be proceeding nicely. It executed a docking approach, and just as it was about to dock with the Alfa's upper hatch, a massive explosion resounded in the ocean. The Alfa and the shuttle were both consumed in a ball of fire. When it cleared, the enemy sub was snapped in two. The shuttle was nowhere to be seen. Impressed with his results, Michael smiled. At that moment, an alarm bell rang as the bridge clamshell doors opened. Captain Bridger and Commander Ford raced in, only to see a WSKR view of the two pieces of Alfa sinking slowly to the bottom. "What the hell happened?" Bridger shouted. Still smiling, Michael turned around. "Captain Bridger, say hello to your equal," he exclaimed. "We just found out the plans of the renegade Russians. Unfortunately, we had to sacrifice one of our launches. Not much of a problem, though. Lucas?" He motioned to the console. "Well, it looks as if they're operating off the western coast of Norway. Their command ship is that Typhoon. No missiles on it, though. Only this guy." Lucas pressed a few buttons and a dossier of Vitaly Velichko came up on screen. "This is Vitaly Ivanovich Velichko, leader of what he calls the Great Lenin Revolution. He was a candidate for president about ten or twenty years ago on the hard-liner Communist front. He's holed up in the command ship at the Alfa's last report." Michael nodded at Bridger. "You have the conn, Captain." Bridger was impressed. He had had faith in Martindale even from the beginning, but taking his boat and upstaging him was a masterwork. "Lieutenant, tell me... you were well aware that assuming command when senior officers are present is a career-ending offense, right?" Michael nodded. "Who else would know that they would self-destruct? If these senior officers were in the shuttle, there wouldn't be any others. I had to do it, and so I did." Bridger patted Michael on the shoulder. "You've got guts, kid. Good work." Michael smiled and nodded. "Thank you, sir." Off the coast of Norway 2000 Zulu Velichko was nerve-wracked. He had lost his prime attack submarine just an hour earlier in a battle with the seaQuest. "Bastards!" he yelled to nobody in particular. "Why did they even _attempt_ to attack the UEO flagship! We should be out of this damned sea by now!" He had a terrible headache. Looking at the bottle of painkillers his ship doctor had given him, he frowned. Retrieving a flask from his trenchcoat pocket, he put a small handful of pills in his mouth and downed them in a long gulp. He could feel the chemical reaction as the vodka mixed with the painkillers in his bloodstream. No pain now, he thought, as he fell asleep on his couch. ------ END OF PART TWO Tomorrow- The final chapter! Where is Vitaly Velichko? Will Lieutenant Martindale get to see Melissa again? What happens? Tune in and find out! -MJP Date: Mon, 15 Sep 1997 15:27:24 +0100 From: seaQuest To: seaquest-ff@escapenet.org Subject: (SQFF) Calm Before the Storm- Part Three Message-ID: <341D455F.75A4@cris.com> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Here's the "storm" part of the story. This one's my attempt at a nail-biter. I really aren't that good with dramatic elements, but read on- it's cool. Enjoy! Send back comments, tell me how I'm doing! Part Four will come on later today. -MJP -------- seaQuest DSV- Combatant Prep Room 2100 Zulu Michael Martindale was suiting up for combat. Having volunteered for a near-impossible mission, he knew that it was do or die. The rebel Typhoon had been located, and seaQuest had closed in to within Speeder range. The catch was, only Michael knew the layout of the Typhoon, and thus volunteered for the mission- to infiltrate the sub and engage its self-destruct system. The Typhoon was the only enhanced sub of Velichko's fleet- it was given laser-impervious alloy that protected it from seaQuest's weapons. Most of his close friends from seaQuest were helping him into the bulky ALICE combat harness. "Michael, I swear, you're crazy. Why are you doing this?" Henderson was trying to talk him out of it. After he put on the top part of his harness, he turned to her. "Why am I doing this? I don't want those guys out there. If they can make off with three subs, one of them the quietest on earth, they can find more. Besides, I need to brush up on armed combat training." Michael attached several items to his fighting load- extra charge packs for his pulse rifle, a first-aid kit, two hand-held pulse guns, and several other necessities. He turned to Henderson. "Loni, I just don't know what to say now. I know you don't want me to go out there, but I have to. For all those who teased me. For constant "No, Mike, No!" from David Guthrie, and "Hey Dale, where's Chip?" from Brian Sidman, and for all those others. This is my chance. This is when I prove that I am someone. This is when I prove that Michael Martindale has the courage. All I can say is that you're a great person and a great friend. Take care." Henderson had tears in her eyes. Without saying anything, she hugged Michael. "Be careful out there." Michael nodded. "I will." He stepped out to the hangar bay where his Sea Speeder was waiting. Before entering, he turned around. Captain Bridger, Commander Ford, Henderson and Brody, Dr. Smith, Lucas, Ortiz and O'Neill and even Darwin (in his pool) were waiting. Michael snapped to attention and executed a perfect military salute. Everyone returned it. He stepped onto the Speeder, but maintained his gaze back at all his friends up until the doors closed. Michael's eyes were tearing at that time. He closed the main hatch, powered up the systems, and waited for the bay doors to open. When he was clear to depart, he pumped the engines to full power and zoomed off into the distance. The Typhoon was plodding northward, in a vain attempt to get to the Arctic icepack. Their sonar systems were highly sensitive, but a Sea Speeder going only thirty knots out of its usual 120 was tough to detect. The only indication of attack from within came when the _clang_ of the Speeder connecting with the hull, and even that was regarded as loose flotsam. Michael engaged the docking collar on his Sea Speeder which would form a seal between the two subs for a forced entry. The water was explosively vented from the two hatches so he could engage a plasma cutter and enter. Before he started cutting, he primed and armed his pulse rifle, setting it for "burst." Instead of a sustained laser blast, it would rapid-fire pulses of energy. He chambered the charge pack and began cutting. The small blue flame was strong enough to slice through the pressure hull of the Typhoon. A minute later, the hull was ready for a forced entry. Taking a deep breath, he took the rifle in his hands and kicked the hatch open. Leaping the ten feet to the missile deck, he looked right, then left, aiming his rifle down his field of vision. Nothing yet. From the Frunze library documents, he knew the self-destruct controls were in the attack center, two hundred feet away, under the conning tower. Using the empty missile tubes as cover, he slowly moved rearward. At the galley, he encountered a group of rebel soldiers eating. As they saw him dash behind a wall, they grabbed their weapons and rushed out. They did not count on Michael being right behind them as they ran out. A few seconds of burst fire took care of the soldiers. The laser fire attracted more men and an alarm sounded. Michael pulled a concussion grenade from his ALICE harness and pulled the pin. As a pocket of troops approached, he threw it into their midst and ducked back. A half-second after the explosion, Michael jumped out and fired a long barrage of laser fire into the cloud of smoke. From the sounds, he could hear a bunch of troops going down. He rushed through the cloud and looked left and right. He saw some Cyrillic writing that translated roughly into directions to the control room. Michael smiled. Almost there. He cleared his rearward flank and rushed out into the hall, encountering a platoon of rebel security troops. He ducked for cover, but dodged too late. A pistol bullet lodged itself into his shoulder. "Hnngh!" Michael tried to grasp his wound, but it felt like fire burning into his veins. Close to the heart, he thought. I might not make it. Filled with anger, he burst out in a lull of the pistol fire. Screaming with rage, he emptied an entire charge pack on the opposing troops. When the smoke cleared, he saw the red lights of the attack center, with one Russian rebel holding a pistol still blocking his path. When the lights came up, he saw the portrait of the dossier Lucas had showed earlier. Vitaly Velichko. "So, my young friend, we meet at last," Velichko spoke. "I am impressed by the way you fooled my Alfa submarine." Michael furrowed his brow and growled. "Velichko. You won't get anything out of me. Your reign of terror ends here." Velichko laughed diabolically. "Reign? Terror? I intend to precipitate freedom to my repressed people! I want to end the imperialist Western influence that has taken my beloved Russia." Michael grit his teeth. "The only thing that will be taken is your dictatorship, Velichko." He raised his rifle just as Velichko brought his pistol to bear. The light beam, however, flew faster than a bullet, and drilled into Velichko's heart. The resulting reflex caused him to jerk his trigger finger. The 9mm bullet missed its intended target, Michael's heart, but to graze his upper left leg. Both men fell. Only one survived. Michael dragged himself up on a bulkhead and stumbled over Velichko's corpse into the attack center. His two bullet wounds were pulsating with pain. Melissa's face flashed through his mind. He knew it might just be the last image of her ever, if he didn't get off this sub. Locating the controls for the self-destruct, he was able to slam his fist down through the glass and depress the red button. Alarms resounded throughout the boat. He had two minutes to get off. Using his good hand and leg, he was able to barely hop and jump back to his Speeder. Closing the hatch and setting on autopilot, he zoomed back to the seaQuest in record time. The shock wave from the Typhoon's explosion pressed him on. The bay doors were open, and the automatic pilot docked the Speeder expertly. In the launch bay, Dr. Wendy Smith was waiting with a stretcher and two burly guards. As the computer voice announced that the Sea Speeder had docked, the guards rushed in to assist Lieutenant Martindale. After thirty long, tense seconds of worry, Dr. Smith was happy to see that Michael was still alive, but only barely. The guards laid him down onto the stretcher and strapped him in. With that, they started to take him to sickbay. Wendy took Michael's hand and stroked it gently. "Well, Lieutenant, you've had quite a day." Michael smiled, very weakly, and coughed. "Doc... you gotta.... you gotta..." Smith moved in closer and looked him in the eyes. "What is it? Tell me, okay?" Michael nodded. "Tell... Melissa... that I love her..." With that, Michael closed his eyes. She checked his pulse, and was satisfied to hear that he was still alive. Rushing into surgery, she got ready to patch him up. September 22, 2022 National Naval Medical Center, UEO Branch Bethesda, Maryland 0900 Zulu The UEO helicopter executed a perfect landing on the roof of the Navy hospital, and the uniformed attendants opened the chopper's doors and withdrew a stretcher with Lieutenant Martindale on it. Several others followed- Loni Henderson, Lucas, Dr. Smith, and Melissa Andrews, who had been flown up from New Cape Quest earlier that evening on a "red-eye" emergency transport flight. Other crewers of the seaQuest were taking leave and hoped to be transported up soon. They rushed down the high-speed elevator to the 10th floor. "Doc, is he going to be okay?" Melissa was nerve-wracked and tired, but she did not plan to leave Michael's side until they checked him out of the hospital. Wendy nodded. "Michael will be fine. He took two bullets. One could have killed him, had it been a half-inch more to the right." Melissa shuddered. "Doctor Smith?" Wendy turned to face Melissa. "Yes?" Melissa took Wendy's hand. "Thank you for saving his life." Wendy smiled. "I'm a doctor. It's what I do. Besides, Michael risked his life to save the rest of us. Everyone on the seaQuest owes both you and him a debt. You're very lucky to have such a great guy." Melissa blushed. "I know. He lets me know how I am to him whenever I see him." The elevator slowed and came to a stop. A medic was waiting with a clipboard. "Is this Lieutenant Martindale?" he asked. Loni nodded. "Yes. Can we stick by him?" The medic nodded. "We don't have any fixed visiting hours. I'd recommend letting him rest right now." As they came closer to room 1049, where Michael was slated for, they heard a man with a thick Russian accent shouting. "What do you mean, he will eat this hospital food? I will hear nothing of it! You, Ivan Mikhailovich! Go to the nearest meat store and get some filet mignon! This young man is a war hero, and he will be treated with dignity!" At that, the entourage from the seaQuest entered 1049. A tall man with a mustache and beard was shouting orders to three aides. "What's going on?" Lucas yelled. "Who are you?" The bearded man drew himself up. "I am Mikhail Sergeivich Konstantin, Minister of Defense of the Republic of Russia." Wendy was puzzled. "What are you doing here?" "I am here to provide every comfort to Lieutenant Martindale. He has saved our country from a revolution, and I am to present him with my country's highest honors." Melissa shook her head. "Not yet. He's still unconscious. Now, move!" She pushed two aides out of the way to allow Wendy and the other doctor to put Michael on the hospital bed. Before she could threaten physical violence against the stunned Russians, Konstantin put a hand on Melissa's shoulder. "Do not worry, Miss Andrews. If these Navy doctors cannot take care of your Michael, I will call in the best in the world and pay for everything myself. I intend to extend every courtesy possible to Lieutenant Martindale." Wendy stepped forward. "Okay, folks, if possible, I want to do a probe to make sure he's alright. Could you all leave the room for a minute, please?" Grudgingly, the Russians, Melissa, Loni and Lucas left the room. Wendy took Michael's hand, closed her eyes, and began a journey into his mind. Clutter. Theories. Thoughts and predictions. Michael's mind was messier than anything she had ever seen. Wendy had materialized somewhere in his unconscious thought zone. "This is going to be tough," she said to herself. "Au contraire, Dr. Smith," a voice spoke. Michael's own mental image had fizzled into being right beside her. "It's not such a bad place. What can I do for you?" Wendy was surprised he had been able to 'find' her so fast. "I came here to make sure that you were okay," she replied. Michael nodded. "Well, make yourself comfortable." He gestured and two leather chairs, separated by a small coffee table, materialized to their side. Wendy smiled. "Thank you." They both sat down. "Doc, what happened out there? Did we get the rebels?" "Yes, we did. More specifically, you did. Their Typhoon is on the bottom, and the Akula surrendered. Your knowledge of their doctrine did the trick." Michael waved his hand. "Oh, please. I could never had done it on my own. The crew helped me through it. Speaking of which, where is everyone?" Wendy stood back up. "You'll find out. I can't tell you much." Michael stood up as well. "One other thing- will I remember this conversation?" Wendy shook her head. "In a few seconds, you won't remember a thing." Doctor Smith opened her eyes and released her grip. Smiling, she nodded to nobody in particular. "He'll be fine." ------- Don't forget- send me comments, people! -MJP -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Return-path: Resent-date: Mon, 15 Sep 1997 19:14:00 -0500 (CDT) Date: Mon, 15 Sep 1997 20:04:13 +0100 Resent-from: seaquest-ff-request@escapenet.org From: seaQuest Subject: (SQFF) Calm Before the Storm- the Final Chapter Resent-sender: seaquest-ff-request@escapenet.org To: seaquest-ff@escapenet.org Reply-to: vjmx39@cris.com Resent-message-id: <"4dP8nB.A.OAC.I9cH0"@stgenesis.org> Organization: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy X-Mailing-List: archive/latest/537 X-Loop: seaquest-ff@stgenesis.org Ladies ang Gentlemen, here it is- the last part of Calm Before the Storm! Don't forget to E-mail me your comments. Hang on next week for the continuation and conclusion of the Martindale Epic, with the newest addition to the Martindale family- in the years past 2032. -MJP ----- 1200 Zulu The same folks were in the room three hours later. Konstantin and his aides were looking up what medals to give him, Henderson and Lucas were watching over him, Melissa was seated next to Michael, holding and stroking his hand gently. Brody was acting as honor guard outside his door, and Dr. Smith was checking his vital signs every few minutes. The nine people were accustomed to silence from the young Lieutenant, which took them all by surprise when he woke up. "Uchhh... what... where am I?" Melissa was startled, but tried to keep calm. She did not want to lapse him back into unconsciousness, but Konstantin and the Russians did notice. Melissa held up a hand in his direction. Michael blinked a few times and noticed Melissa hovering over him. "Man, what a face to wake up to. I must be in heaven." Melissa smiled. "Careful, you old flirt, or else you'll be unconscious again." Melissa took a cold cloth and put it on his forehead. "You're in Bethesda, at the National Naval Medical Center. Looks like you've got two nasty bruises and a lot of honors coming to you." Michael smiled. "Speaking of which, I didn't forget." He reached under his pillow and withdrew a small grey velvet jewelry box. He opened it up, revealing the Hero of the Soviet Union medal, and handed it to Melissa. Melissa didn't say anything, just kissed him on the cheek. "You will have one of those of your own soon, Lieutenant." Konstantin walked up the side of his bed. "Who are you, Sean Connery?" Michael asked. Konstantin laughed. "No, I am a simple Minister of Defense. I have been tasked by my people to present you with awards. How does the Order of Lenin sound?" Michael goggled. "What? That's the highest order in Russia! What did I do to deserve that?" Konstantin smiled. "You stopped a revolution, my young comrade. Here." Konstantin gestured to one of his aides, who approached with a large mahogany box. "Lieutenant Michael Jameson Martindale, United Earth Oceans Organization, loyal guardian of our earth, I present you with, in ascending order- the Order of Zhukov, for decisive tactics and actions on the field of battle." Konstantin withdrew a medal adorned with jewels, gold, and the face of legendary Soviet Marshal Zhukov, and pinned it to his pillow. "For accomplishing a great victory in battle, the Order of Victory." The next medal was a five-pointed star with diamonds abound. "Finally, the two most coveted awards in Russia- the Gold Star, and the Order of Lenin." Konstantin pinned on the two final medals. "Lieutenant Martindale, my entire country is in your debt. Name whatever you wish, and it shall be yours." Michael was still dazzled by the awards pinned on his pillow. "Well, Bethesda is close to Washington, right?" Konstantin nodded. By this time, Loni, Lucas and Wendy had noticed that he was awake and had entered the room. Even Brody, resilient in his role as honor guard, had poked his head into the room. "I guess an evening in Georgetown with Melissa would be nice, but do you know what it's like to be on tour for months at a time? I'd like a banquet for the crew of the seaQuest and any guests they would like to bring." Konstantin nodded. "It shall be so, Lieutenant." Konstantin saluted, and Michael returned it. "If you will excuse me, Lieutenant, I must make a few calls. I hope to see you later." Konstantin gestured to his aides, and they walked out. Lucas and Loni walked up to Michael. "Nice one, bud. So much for another bland dinner on the boat!" Lucas extended his hand and high-fived Michael. Loni hugged him. "Way to go! Thanks, Mike." Michael smiled. "It's nothing. Say, when can I check out?" Carter Memorial Banquet Hall Washington, D.C. 1900 Zulu The hall was small for a major meeting place, but it was large enough to hold the crew of seaQuest and their families. Mikhail Konstantin had provided for the entire meal of smoked fish, fine caviar and other Russian delicacies. Everyone was happy to be off the boat on an unscheduled leave, but was even happier to be provided a full meal. After the first course was finished, Captain Bridger stood up and clinked a spoon on his glass for attention. "I'd like to propose a toast, if I may." Everyone held up their champagne glasses. "Lieutenant Martindale, you're the man of the evening tonight. I have to admit that I am a bit miffed for you 'upstaging' me earlier on.." Bridger paused for laughter. "But your actions helped to end one of the biggest threats to the world experienced as yet. Lieutenant, this one's for you, from one submariner to the other. Bravo Zulu." All the guests spoke as one. "Bravo Zulu!" Michael stood up and bowed deferentially. After the rounds of applause had died down, he began to speak. "I can, if I wanted to, acknowledge all your good wishes as my own. But I cannot. On such a joyous occasion, I have to extend my deepest gratitude and own wishes to my fellow crewmembers. I could never have done anything whatsoever without their love and respect. Guys, you're all the best friends anyone could ever have. Thanks for everything." Michael smiled and raised his glass. The applause started up again. 2100 Zulu The banquet had ended a few minutes earlier. All the other crewmembers were staying in hotels, also provided by Konstantin, but Michael and Melissa had opted for a walk along the Potomac and around the city. They were still in their formal outfits- she wore a shimmering golden dress, he was in a rental tuxedo, sitting on a bench in back of the Washington Monument. The reflecting pool shined the images of the Lincoln Memorial. The spire of the Monument reached high into the sky above them. Melissa moved closer to Michael in the cold Fall weather and put her head on his shoulder. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked. Michael pulled Melissa close to him and kissed her gently. "I just hope I never have to go infiltrating ever again. If that's the way to get me to D.C., I think I'll just take an airline." Neither of them had ever been to the capital city yet. It was both their first time. "At least we're back together," she said. "I'm glad you earned that month of leave." Michael shrugged. "The UEO can go without me for a while. They'll have to." He breathed deeply. This was what life was all about. Fighting for freedom, dedicating your life to it, but what rewards did it reap? The camaraderie of hundreds, a few medals, and a great girlfriend. Michael smiled. This was the good life. THE END Comments? Questions? E-mail to vjmx39@cris.com. -MJP -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The seaQuest Fan Fiction Mailing List is a service provided by the Stgenesis.org domain. To remove yourself from the list email with the subject Unsubscribe to seaQuest-ff-request@stgenesis.org Further Questions should be directed towards your list administrator: listadmin@stgenesis.org Date: Mon, 15 Sep 1997 20:04:13 +0100 From: seaQuest To: seaquest-ff@escapenet.org Subject: (SQFF) Calm Before the Storm- the Final Chapter Message-ID: <341D86AC.49FA@cris.com> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Ladies ang Gentlemen, here it is- the last part of Calm Before the Storm! Don't forget to E-mail me your comments. Hang on next week for the continuation and conclusion of the Martindale Epic, with the newest addition to the Martindale family- in the years past 2032. -MJP ----- 1200 Zulu The same folks were in the room three hours later. Konstantin and his aides were looking up what medals to give him, Henderson and Lucas were watching over him, Melissa was seated next to Michael, holding and stroking his hand gently. Brody was acting as honor guard outside his door, and Dr. Smith was checking his vital signs every few minutes. The nine people were accustomed to silence from the young Lieutenant, which took them all by surprise when he woke up. "Uchhh... what... where am I?" Melissa was startled, but tried to keep calm. She did not want to lapse him back into unconsciousness, but Konstantin and the Russians did notice. Melissa held up a hand in his direction. Michael blinked a few times and noticed Melissa hovering over him. "Man, what a face to wake up to. I must be in heaven." Melissa smiled. "Careful, you old flirt, or else you'll be unconscious again." Melissa took a cold cloth and put it on his forehead. "You're in Bethesda, at the National Naval Medical Center. Looks like you've got two nasty bruises and a lot of honors coming to you." Michael smiled. "Speaking of which, I didn't forget." He reached under his pillow and withdrew a small grey velvet jewelry box. He opened it up, revealing the Hero of the Soviet Union medal, and handed it to Melissa. Melissa didn't say anything, just kissed him on the cheek. "You will have one of those of your own soon, Lieutenant." Konstantin walked up the side of his bed. "Who are you, Sean Connery?" Michael asked. Konstantin laughed. "No, I am a simple Minister of Defense. I have been tasked by my people to present you with awards. How does the Order of Lenin sound?" Michael goggled. "What? That's the highest order in Russia! What did I do to deserve that?" Konstantin smiled. "You stopped a revolution, my young comrade. Here." Konstantin gestured to one of his aides, who approached with a large mahogany box. "Lieutenant Michael Jameson Martindale, United Earth Oceans Organization, loyal guardian of our earth, I present you with, in ascending order- the Order of Zhukov, for decisive tactics and actions on the field of battle." Konstantin withdrew a medal adorned with jewels, gold, and the face of legendary Soviet Marshal Zhukov, and pinned it to his pillow. "For accomplishing a great victory in battle, the Order of Victory." The next medal was a five-pointed star with diamonds abound. "Finally, the two most coveted awards in Russia- the Gold Star, and the Order of Lenin." Konstantin pinned on the two final medals. "Lieutenant Martindale, my entire country is in your debt. Name whatever you wish, and it shall be yours." Michael was still dazzled by the awards pinned on his pillow. "Well, Bethesda is close to Washington, right?" Konstantin nodded. By this time, Loni, Lucas and Wendy had noticed that he was awake and had entered the room. Even Brody, resilient in his role as honor guard, had poked his head into the room. "I guess an evening in Georgetown with Melissa would be nice, but do you know what it's like to be on tour for months at a time? I'd like a banquet for the crew of the seaQuest and any guests they would like to bring." Konstantin nodded. "It shall be so, Lieutenant." Konstantin saluted, and Michael returned it. "If you will excuse me, Lieutenant, I must make a few calls. I hope to see you later." Konstantin gestured to his aides, and they walked out. Lucas and Loni walked up to Michael. "Nice one, bud. So much for another bland dinner on the boat!" Lucas extended his hand and high-fived Michael. Loni hugged him. "Way to go! Thanks, Mike." Michael smiled. "It's nothing. Say, when can I check out?" Carter Memorial Banquet Hall Washington, D.C. 1900 Zulu The hall was small for a major meeting place, but it was large enough to hold the crew of seaQuest and their families. Mikhail Konstantin had provided for the entire meal of smoked fish, fine caviar and other Russian delicacies. Everyone was happy to be off the boat on an unscheduled leave, but was even happier to be provided a full meal. After the first course was finished, Captain Bridger stood up and clinked a spoon on his glass for attention. "I'd like to propose a toast, if I may." Everyone held up their champagne glasses. "Lieutenant Martindale, you're the man of the evening tonight. I have to admit that I am a bit miffed for you 'upstaging' me earlier on.." Bridger paused for laughter. "But your actions helped to end one of the biggest threats to the world experienced as yet. Lieutenant, this one's for you, from one submariner to the other. Bravo Zulu." All the guests spoke as one. "Bravo Zulu!" Michael stood up and bowed deferentially. After the rounds of applause had died down, he began to speak. "I can, if I wanted to, acknowledge all your good wishes as my own. But I cannot. On such a joyous occasion, I have to extend my deepest gratitude and own wishes to my fellow crewmembers. I could never have done anything whatsoever without their love and respect. Guys, you're all the best friends anyone could ever have. Thanks for everything." Michael smiled and raised his glass. The applause started up again. 2100 Zulu The banquet had ended a few minutes earlier. All the other crewmembers were staying in hotels, also provided by Konstantin, but Michael and Melissa had opted for a walk along the Potomac and around the city. They were still in their formal outfits- she wore a shimmering golden dress, he was in a rental tuxedo, sitting on a bench in back of the Washington Monument. The reflecting pool shined the images of the Lincoln Memorial. The spire of the Monument reached high into the sky above them. Melissa moved closer to Michael in the cold Fall weather and put her head on his shoulder. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked. Michael pulled Melissa close to him and kissed her gently. "I just hope I never have to go infiltrating ever again. If that's the way to get me to D.C., I think I'll just take an airline." Neither of them had ever been to the capital city yet. It was both their first time. "At least we're back together," she said. "I'm glad you earned that month of leave." Michael shrugged. "The UEO can go without me for a while. They'll have to." He breathed deeply. This was what life was all about. Fighting for freedom, dedicating your life to it, but what rewards did it reap? The camaraderie of hundreds, a few medals, and a great girlfriend. Michael smiled. This was the good life. THE END Comments? Questions? E-mail to vjmx39@cris.com. -MJP