==========================================================================
                              PERSONA NON GRATA
                                Rachel Brody
==========================================================================
   Timeline: SeaQuest DSV
   Author's E-Mail: bi185@freenet.buffalo.edu
==========================================================================

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

DISCLAIMER:  This story is the property of Rachel Brody. No
duplication is permitted without her express consent. All
characters, places, etc. are the property of _seaQuest DSV_.

Send questions, comments, and death threats to me at
bi185@freenet.buffalo.edu


Introduction--  This is a Ben and Katie story, as I've been
overwhelmed with John D'Aquino as of late (not a bad thing,
I assure you). And Stacie Haiduk was in a Danielle Steel
movie (The Perfect Stranger) recently, and on Kindred last
spring, so that may have something to do with it as well.
It takes place first season. It starts out weird, and gets
weirder. I realize that some of what I've written is more
than mildly ridiculous, but I had a hell of a lot of fun
writing it, so bear with me. It's not as bad as second
season, I promise. ;)



===========================  PART 1  =====================================


"Persona Non Grata"
By Rachel Brody
Part One of Four



    "Lieutenant."
    Bridger sounded impatient. Although Krieg wondered
inwardly how many times the captain had called hisname, he
didn't make any indications of having heard him.
    After a few seconds, Bridger tried again.
"_Lieutenant_."This time, there was an edge in his voice.
Krieg let his gazedrift lazily to Bridger, settling on a
point barely above andto the left of the Captain's head.
His eyes focused on a tinyblue light, about two-thirds of
the way across the bridge.
    "Captain?" he asked nonchalantly.
    At once, he knew his tone of voice had been a mistake.
Bridger's expression was an angry one. Krieg knew he must
have overstepped some sort of boundary. The question was,
which one?
    If it were possible for a human being to have smoke
coming out of his ears, Krieg could tell that Bridger would
have been setting off fire alarms all over the bridge. The
older man was fuming.
    Literally.
    "My office, Lieutenant. Now."
    Krieg watched Bridger turn and walk away, debating for
an instant if he really wanted to obey the order, then if he
really had a choice. He realized that he didn't, so he
stood.
    Bridger was waiting for him by the maglev.
    That struck Krieg as odd. As he moved to enter the
waiting car, he felt Bridger grab him by the arm.
    The same place where Katie had touched him earlier.
    He jerked his arm away, pained, as the floodgate opened
and he was bathed in a deluge of memories. None of them
were pleasant.
    He somehow managed to relive every painful-- sometimes
literally-- moment of their relationship, word by word,
second by second, up to that afternoon's...encounter, before
Bridger spoke a half-second later.
    "What the hell has gotten into you, Krieg?" the captain
asked.
    Krieg drew a blank as he tried to force his
consciousness back into control of his body.
    Bridger looked annoyed. Very annoyed. He continued
sharply. "Krieg?"
    The repetition of his name was enough to break Krieg's
reverie. He took a quick, sharp breath. "Sir? I thought
you said your--"
    "My office."  Bridger nodded. "I changed my mind." He
paused for air, then went on. "If you can sit on my bridge
and stare at nothing on my time, I'm certainly allowed to
change my mind, aren't I?"
    Krieg felt himself mentally shirk Bridger's stinging
criticism. Whereas he could take being reamed out, given a
good dressing-down, and going about his business-- which,
more often than not, was quite lucrative-- Bridger's way of
expressing disappointment matched with perfect, scalding wit
was always enough to make Krieg feel like a truant child.
    "Krieg!"
    Krieg almost jumped. How was he supposed to tell the
best CO he'd ever had that he was too enamored with the
second officer to pay attention to his duties?
    "It's...personal," Krieg said. In a normal situation,
it would be the only information he'd willfully surrender.
But to Bridger, it didn't seem anywhere near enough.
"Lieutenant Commander Hitchcock."
    Bridger nodded, now with a touch of understanding in
his eyes. "Did the two of you have another
misunderstanding?" he asked.
    Krieg winced. *Oh, you could say that,* he thought.
But he knew that Bridger was referring to the last time he'd
tried asking Katie to go out with him on shore leave.
Westphalen still gave him a hard time about the number of
stitches it had taken her to put his face back together.
"Kinda."
    Bridger nodded, obviously expecting Krieg to continue.
    Krieg didn't want to continue.
    After a few seconds, Bridger realized that. "Is it
going to interfere with your job?"
    Krieg didn't know how to answer that question.
Normally, he would have denied it immediately. But the
truth was, he couldn't get his mind off what had happened.
He looked up at Bridger, and his expression was one of
unsurity.
    Bridger nodded sympathetically. "I can understand if
you're having trouble coming to terms with an aspect of your
relationship, Ben. But the fact is, if you think there's
any reason you won't be able to perform your duties to my
satisfaction, I don't want you on my bridge."
    Krieg blinked. What was Bridger saying?  He asked as
much.
    "I'm saying that you either shape up, or I kick you off
this boat for 72 hours. Understood?"
    Then, Krieg understood. "Shore leave?" he squeaked.
    Bridger nodded. "You're overdue."
    That didn't make any sense. Krieg had never missed a
chance to go on leave. "Where?" The middle of the Pacific
Ocean was hardly somewhere he wanted to be put ashore.
    Bridger shrugged. "That's your problem," he commented
as he turned to go back to the bridge. Then, over his
shoulder, "But the launch leaves at 2030."
    Krieg nodded and left before Bridger had a chance to
reconsider his decision.

                             * * * * *

    Since the moment she'd first met Ben Krieg, Katherine
Hitchcock had known her life would never be the same. Something
about him: the raw, untamed emotion in his eyes, the way he
seemed to be anything but unaware of his drop-dead good looks, or
maybe just the wrenching feeling in her gut, had alerted her to
the fact that this was a guy she definitely didn't want to
ignore.
    Her gut had been wrong. It wasn't that she didn't want to
ignore him, but that she couldn't. And she'd been young and
romantic, and thought that when a guy nearly beat the shit
out of your high-school sweetheart, it meant that he liked
you.
    Now, she knew it meant the guy was just plain stupid.
    Krieg was no exception.
    After his intrusion, she had hastily apologized to her date,
then sent him packing. Somehow, seeing that hurt look in Ben's
eyes had been a serious turnoff, and she was no longer in the
mood to be wined and dined.
    She was in the mood to find Krieg, haul him up against a
bulkhead, and whack some sense into his overassured head.
    Instead, she was in the gym, lifting weights like she
always did when she got angry at him.
    *Tick...tick...tick...*
    She immediately shut off the memory.
    She could do that with ease, now. Just stuff her thoughts
away, into a storage locker deep inside her head, and not even
miss them once she'd thrown away the key. Living with Ben--
being married to him-- had given her the opportunity to start
closing off. With the number of idiotic schemes that somehow
found their way into his head, she had figured she'd need to be
the levelheaded one.
    But every once in a while...
    "Forget it," she said to the weightgloves as she pulled them
off and slammed them back into their locker. She wasn't going to
be able to work off aggression like this with a couple of sets.
That was nearly as ludicrous as Krieg himself.
    She quickly checked her watch and wondered what Bridger's
response would be if she showed up early for duty. He'd been
telling her lately to slow down. When she'd protested, saying
that she was on the fast track to her own command, he'd only
agreed that "You're on the fast track to something, all right,"
and given her one of those ridiculous half-grins that made her
want to sock him. Ever since he'd let the _Gazelle_-- she wasn't
going to call it a Stinger, no matter what Lucas said-- lose
those trials, she had always been afraid that he was holding
something back from her.
    She shook off the mild apprehension that had suddenly popped
up out of nowhere, and left the room. She'd change into uniform
and go up to the bridge, and if Bridger had a problem with that,
he could take it up with her after her shift.

                             * * * * *

    Twenty minutes later, after Hitchcock had showered and
changed, she was on her way to the bridge, feeling a little
better. She walked onto the bridge, wondering if she could make
it to her station without Bridger seeing her. She almost made
it.
    As she passed Ortiz, she felt the captain's eyes watching
her from across the bridge. Boring straight through her head,
trying to figure out exactly what she was doing here with four
hours still to go until her shift began. She settled into the
helm control station, crossing her fingers momentarily for luck,
then realizing that she'd never be able to steer the ship with
her hands in that ridiculous position. Besides, it was a stupid
superstition.
    A moment later, when Bridger leaned over her console, she
wondered if she should have kept them crossed.
    "Lieutenant Commander? Something wrong?" Bridger's
eyebrows knit as he frowned and checked his watch. "You've got
over four hours before you're scheduled to go on duty."
    His voice was quiet, affording her the luxury of keeping the
conversation almost private. She shook her head and spoke, her
own voice barely above a whisper. "No sir. I just...had a few
things I wanted to take care of."
    Bridger straightened and appeared thoughtful for a bare
instant before her shook his head. "I thought we'd discussed
this."
    She shook her head, trying to successfully divide her
attention between the strong currents outside the ship, and the
strong-willed captain at her side. "You said I was working
myself too hard," she said. "Not that I wasn't capable of
performing my duties."
    Bridger nodded. "But much more of this," and he gestured to
the console, "And you won't be."
    Hitchcock took a deep breath, ready to launch into a
detailed explanation of exactly why Bridger was wrong. Then she
realized that he wasn't in the mood to debate a decision. She
cooled down immediately.
    "Sir," she said, her tone almost desperate, "I'm really
fine. I'm not going to burn myself out. I'm just having some
trouble sleeping--"
    "So you haven't slept, either?"
    *Whoops. Bad move, Katie.*  She shook her head and
swallowed hard. "No! I got a few hours in before I met with
Commander Ford to go over the new duty schedule!"
    Bridger didn't appear convinced. In fact, he looked about
ready to relieve her of duty.
    Which was exactly what he did.


TO BE CONTINUED...


===========================  PART 2  =====================================


"Persona Non Grata"
By Rachel Brody
Part Two of Four


    Shore leave.
    Normally something that Krieg adored, at the moment he
couldn't care less.
    At least being on active duty would have giving him
something to distract himself with. Not that he couldn't
find some way of distracting himself on shore leave. That
was never a problem.
    The problem was that, for once in his life, Benjamin
Krieg didn't _want_ anything to distract him.
    He wanted to wallow in self-pity. Was that really so
much to ask?  Just a few days to lounge in his quarters,
read magazines, listen to music, and curse the day he'd ever
heard the name Katherine Hitchcock.
    Yeah. Right. Like he would if he had the chance.
    "Lucas, c'mere," he said to the teenager, who was
standing across the room.
    Lucas obliged. "Yeah?" he asked. By the tone of his
voice, Krieg could tell the kid was a million miles away,
contemplating the complexities of some facet of life, the
universe, or anything else under the sun.
    "Hold this down." He gestured to his suitcase, which
he'd slammed on top of his bunk the minute he'd returned
from the bridge. Lucas had shown up a couple of minutes
later, raving about a breakthrough he'd had with Darwin.
Apparently, the dolphin had learned a new word or something.
Krieg really didn't care. But as long as Lucas was here, he
might as well make himself useful. As he pushed down on the
top of the suitcase, Krieg quickly zipped the suitcase shut,
then stepped back to inspect his handiwork.
    Lucas took a step back, too, looking confused. "I
thought you said three days," he said.
    Krieg nodded. "Mm-hm."
    Lucas looked from the bulging suitcase to Krieg and
back to the suitcase. "That's enough for a week!"
    "Mm-hm." Krieg wasn't really concerned with Lucas'
opinion. After all, how much could you expect from a kid who
didn't even change his shirt unless he was directly ordered
to by the captain?
    "What're you going to do?" Lucas asked.
    Krieg raised an eyebrow. "Go to bars. Check out
women. Get drunk. Not necessarily in that order."  He
paused, made sure his humor wasn't being lost on the teen,
then continued. "Nothing special."  He had the feeling that
he wouldn't be doing much of anything, no matter what he
told Lucas.
    "Cool," Lucas said blankly. Anyone could tell it was
an automatic response.
    *Kids,* Krieg thought. *Everything's a joke to them.*
It was such a pity that, sooner or later, people outgrew
their sense of humor. Most of them, anyway. Katie had
always told him he had to take things more seriously.
    He put the thought away, then hefted the suitcase up,
holding it with both hands.
    He took a few steps towards the door, not noticing for
a moment that Lucas wasn't following him. "You planning on
bunking in here while I'm gone?" he asked.
    Lucas looked at him and grinned. "It's bigger than
mine," he said as he walked out the door.
    Krieg nodded as the door swung shut. "Cleaner, too."
    Lucas shot him a dirty look.
    "What?" he asked. "It's the truth."
    Lucas shrugged. "I know," he said, almost indignantly,
"but that doesn't mean that everybody has to nag me about it
every chance they get."
    "Yes," Krieg told him matter-of-factly. "It does."
    Lucas shot him a dirty look as they rounded the corner
and entered the shuttle bay.

                             * * * * *

    The problem with shuttles, as far as Krieg was
concerned, was the physical proximity to the other
passenger. Especially when she'd made it clear that she
didn't want a damned thing to do with you.
    But still, he'd never been one to give up easily.
"Katie," he said, standing and walking forward to the
cockpit, "How's the--"
    "You're distracting me, Krieg. Shut up."
    Hitchcock seemed to think that closed the subject. Her
attention redirected itself to the console. Not that she'd
bothered sparing him any. "You know," he mused, "I never
thought I'd see you in quite that--"
    She quickly flicked the shuttle onto autopilot and
turned, her blue eyes burning with fury. "Ben," she said,
"I told you to shut up. Now I'm giving you a _direct
order_. Keep your goddamned mouth shut until we reach
port."
    Krieg's eyebrows arched at the expletive. "Yes ma'am,"
he said, a hint of a smile touching the corners of his eyes
as he realized why she was so upset. She was feeling
unnerved by his presence. A few moments passed in silence.
    Krieg had always hated silence. He said as much.
Hitchcock ignored him. He continued. "So, Katie, what are
you planning on doing when we get to port?"  She didn't
answer, but that didn't matter, because Krieg continued
anyway. "I told Lucas I'd probably go out and get drunk,
but...I don't know. It's not that fun when you don't have
anyone sober there to drive you home."
    "I'm not coming with you," Hitchcock said, her eyes
never leaving the screen.
    Krieg feigned offense. "I wasn't implying that I
wanted your company," he said archly. "In fact, I've been
thinking it might be a good idea for us to keep to ourselves
for a while."
    "I'm not the one who barged in on you while you were in
the middle of--"
    He knew damn well what she'd been in the middle of. He
didn't need her to remind him. "Katie, come on. Put it
behind you. I have."  *Yeah,* he thought. *Right.*  "In
fact, I think this is just the next step in our
relationship."  He caught himself before she had the chance.
"I mean, this is the next step in our _recovering_ from our
relationship."  *Nice freudian slip.*  "But seriously, don't
you think that maybe you're going a little too fast? I
mean, you just met that guy...when?  Couldn't be more than a
couple of dates, or scuttlebutt would have picked it up."
He didn't mention that _he_ was scuttlebutt, at least on the
_seaQuest_. "First, it's just dinner and a movie. Then,
you skip the movie. Next thing you know, it's to hell with
dinner-- tables weren't made for eating on anyway."  He
shook his head sadly. "Really, though, it's a hell of a
world to grow up in."
    "Like you grew up."
    "Katie," he said, his voice rising in tone at the end
of the word to make it almost a question, "Did you know
you're incredibly sexy when you're upset?"
    She didn't respond to that. Not so much as a flicker.
    He took a deep breath, held it in his lungs for a
moment or two, then exhaled. "I'm sorry," he said
insincerely. "That was chauvinistic of me, wasn't it."
    "No," she replied. "That was typical, Ben, okay?
Typical. You never bother wondering how what you say is
going to hurt everyone else."
    That shut him up for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said
once he'd recovered. This time, his apology was genuine.
"I hadn't meant--"
    "Sure," she said, her tone losing it's fire in favor of
a more glacial predilection. "I bet."
    The rest of the trip was made in silence.

                             * * * * *

    Hitchcock wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but
somehow, she and Krieg had wound up staying at the same hotel,
in rooms directly alongside each other. There was even a door
leading between the two rooms. She'd bolted and chain-locked
hers immediately, swearing that, whatever it took, she'd get
Bridger back for doing this to her.
    There was a knock at the door.
    She walked towards it, opened it, and looked into the hall.
    No one was there.
    The knock rang out again, louder.
    She mentally cursed Krieg before she shoved the deadbolt of
the thin wooden door over and yanked the door open. For the
umpteenth time, she was barely able to resist the urge to wipe
that self-assured grin off his face.
    "What the hell do you want?" she demanded.
    He shrugged. "Just seeing if the door worked."
    "Go away," she said, before she slammed the door in his
face.
    No sooner had she locked it again before the knock repeated
itself. She pulled open the door, deciding that, to hell with
it, he was going to get it this time.
    But the jerk was standing too far away, no doubt having
anticipated her response.
    "Hey!" he said cheerfully, "Look at that!  We're practically
roommates!"
    "No thanks," she said, more annoyed now than she'd been on
the shuttle.
    She slammed the door again, this time not locking it. She
immediately pulled it open again, catching Krieg in mid-knock.
He lowered his hand and grinned sheepishly.
    "You read my mind..." he said mysteriously.
    She glowered at him for a moment before shaking her head and
smiling maliciously. "How could I?" she asked. "There's nothing
there to read."
    He pretended like he was hurt. "Ooh! Low blow!"
    She slammed the door. This time, apparently, Krieg had
gotten the point, because he didn't knock again.
    She lay back on the bed, beginning to wonder if killing
one's CO was a court-martial offense.

                             * * * * *

    *Brilliant, pal. Just brilliant. Maybe if you make her
hate you even more, she'll eventually reach her limit and love
you to pieces!*
    Krieg stared at the doorway, a devilish smile playing on his
lips. He knew how much Katie hated to be woken up, especially
when she'd had as stressful a day as it seemed. Did he dare risk
knocking again, just to tick her off?
    Or maybe he should be asking himself a different question:
was he really that desperate?
    Honestly, what did he care if she liked him or not? Or
hated him or not?
    After a spilt-second's deliberation, he decided that he
wasn't.
    He yanked out a drawer and opened his suitcase. Normally,
he'd have lived out of it on such a short trip, but he just
didn't feel it today.
    As he unloaded the contents of his suitcase into the drawer,
he was suddenly aware of the fact that it was quiet. Very quiet.
    He cleared his throat uncomfortably. Funny, but he'd never
noticed just how much he enjoyed the everyday, normal sounds on
_seaQuest_. The sudden burst of noise only made the silence
harder to bear.
    He had to get out and do something. He let his suitcase
remain open on his bed as he walked to the com unit on the
bedstand and dialed the front desk of the hotel.
    "Yes?" asked a polite voice.
    "You got any bars in this city?" he asked.
    "Yes."
    He waited a moment before it occurred to him that this was
probably a voice-activated customer service system, designed only
to answer questions put to it.
    "Where's the closest one?"
    He heard a brief whine, then a piece of tan-colored paper
was spit out of a thin slit in the wall. He picked it up. It
was a map. His eyes dwelled on the slit for a moment. He
wondered if it went clear through the walls.
    But for the first time, there was some good news. The
closest bar was just around the corner. He'd be there and drunk
beyond his wildest dreams within ten minutes.


TO BE CONTINUED...


Copyright 1996
Rachel Brody


===========================  PART 3  =====================================


"Persona Non Grata"
By Rachel Brody
Part Three of Four


    Krieg thought it odd, as he drained his second shot of
whiskey, that you would sat something like cheers when you
were depressed enough to be drinking in the first place. He
had been sitting at the bar for almost five minutes, and the
bartender seemed a bit surprise with his order of a second
double whiskey, straight up. But Krieg supposed that, in
the mood he was in, it had occurred to the 'tender that
questioning him probably wasn't the best of ideas.
    As he opened his mouth to request another, he suddenly
realized that there was no way that he could keep drinking
at the rate he was going and not give himself alcohol
poisoning. Frustrated with himself for bringing up that very
true fact, he let out a disgusted sigh. The bartender gave
him a glance.
    That wasn't exactly true. His gaze lingered on the
empty shot glass for a moment before connecting with Krieg.
"You want another one?" he asked. By his tone of voice,
Krieg couldn't tell if he was eager to have Krieg dead drunk
and out of the bar, or if he were concerned about the
chances of Krieg's saying yes.
    But he needn't have worried. Krieg shook his head as
he pushed the glass away. "Nah," he said. "A beer."
    The 'tender was visibly relieved as he pulled out a
bottle of beer, opened it, and set it on the counter.
    For a moment, all Krieg could do was stare at the
bottle.
    But just for a moment.

                             * * * * *

    By the time Krieg had finished with his fourth beer,
the world had turned into a roller coaster.
    It was a damned strange roller coaster, he thought,
that had your stomach doing flips while your mood sank lower
and lower.
    He missed Katie. He missed the warm summer nights that
they'd spent together, under the smoky-blue Los Angeles sky,
camped out on the patio, the moist, humid air feeling almost
like her soft kisses against his skin.
    He looked up at the bartender, who seemed to have
finally realized that Krieg was here to get ridiculously
drunk, not to cause trouble. "You know what?" he asked, his
tongue stumbling and slurring over the words.
    Tom-- the bartender's name was Tom-- shook his head.
"Nope. Why don't you tell me?"
    Krieg nodded sluggishly. "Okay," he said. "I will."
He leaned forward as though taking Tom into confidence. "It
wasn't even that great." he admitted.
    Tom grinned and settled himself against the bar,
opposite Krieg. "What wasn't that great?"
    Krieg shrugged. "Her. The relationship."  He placed
the beer on the countertop and tried to intertwine his
fingers, succeeding just barely. "It just wasn't clicking.
The...uh..."
    "Sex?" asked Tom, trying to be helpful.
    Krieg shook his head, an idiotic grin coming to his
face as he remembered, with drunken fondness, the physical
aspects of his relationship with Katie. "Nah," he said.
"In fact, that's about all that _did_ work."
    Tom nodded knowingly. "Ah," he replied. He looked
around, then straightened up. "So, tell me about her."
    Krieg had to think that over for a brief moment.
"Well," he began, not knowing how he could possibly do Katie
justice, "she's beautiful."
    Tom appeared unimpressed. "They all are," he said.
    Krieg grinned and shook his head as he began to
remember. "Not like Katie."  He sighed, caught up in a
mental image that he wasn't about to disclose to _anyone_.
Not even his new best friend. He looked up, his gaze barely
focusing on the other man. "She's got these _eyes_," he
explained, using his hands to gesture in emphasis. "They're
crystal blue. Almost clear. Like...ice."
    "Just like her heart, right?"
    "Nah."  Krieg shook his head, then continued. "And her
hair's this great brown-black color, and she has this way
that she wears it and it just, kinda, well...you know."
Even at the best of times, Krieg doubted that he'd've been
able to find words to tell Tom exactly what he meant. Katie
was...well...indescribable. There was no other way to put
it.
    Suddenly, Tom looked up, alert. "Hey," he said,
pointing at the door. "Fresh blood."
    Krieg slowly turned his head-- it was the only way he
could turn it-- to face the doorway.
    "What a looker," Tom continued.
    Krieg could only nod his head in dumb agreement as he
saw who had entered. "I'll say," he confirmed, his voice
packed to the gills with unexpressed emotion.
    Tom's jaw dropped when he saw Krieg's reaction.
"You're--_She's_-- _That's_ who you were talking about?!?"
    Krieg nodded dreamily.
    "In that case," said Tom, "I can _definitely_ see why
you're so broken up."  He indicated Katie as she took a seat
down the bar. "Normally, I'd tell a guy that a woman wasn't
worth the hangover. More fish in the sea, stars in the sky,
you know. But _that_," he said emphatically, "Is worth a
second chance. If not more."
    Krieg's gaze hadn't strayed from Hitchcock since she'd
walked in. He rarely got the chance to see her out of
uniform anymore.
    What struck him first was the UEO uniforms were
incredibly unflattering. That the dress Katie had put on
was exactly the opposite hit him next.
    "That's whatsername? Katie?" Tom asked.
    Krieg's head bobbed up and down. He couldn't, however,
seem to remember exactly where he'd put his voice...
    "Hey! Kate!" Tom called down the length of the bar.
Hitchcock looked up. At first, her expression was one of
confusion. Then she saw Krieg. Her mood quickly swung to
one that was almost furious. Tom seemed oblivious to the
change.
    "Right," she replied sarcastically. Then, after a
moment--and in a better humor, "What's a girl gotta do to
get some service around here?"
    Tom looked to Krieg, half apologetically. "Gotta go,
buddy. Duty calls. But don't worry. I'll put in a good
work for you with the little lady."
    He set another beer in front of Krieg before he left.

                             * * * * *

    After nearly ten minutes of steady needling and
cajoling, Hitchcock knew that she was being manipulated. By
Krieg, no less, even if it was by proxy. Tom had been
continuously "suggesting" that she move a few seats down the
bar, talk to Ben "just for a minute", because "he's real
broken up". She was about to tell Tom to tell Krieg to
shove it up his ass when she realized how much more
rewarding and satisfying it'd be to tell him herself. So
she picked up the gin and tonic she'd been nursing
throughout the one-sided conversation she'd found herself
engaged in, and stood.
    Fifteen seconds later, she was sitting next to Krieg.
He didn't seem to notice her. She looked up at Tom. "You
said he was upset."  She afforded Krieg a glance. "Looks
to me like he passed out."
    Tom shook his head in what looked like disgust.
Hitchcock didn't blame him-- she was pretty disgusted
herself. Or at least, she didn't see why she _should_ blame
him. But it seemed to her that no one should give Ben a
hard time other than herself. Especially not some twerpy
bartender.
    Not knowing what she was doing or why, Hitchcock placed
her glass on the bartop, then leaned over and gently shook
Krieg's shoulder.
    He snorted. Loudly.
    She looked up at Tom. "He's asleep."  Her voice was
flat, closely paralleling her mood.
    Nodding slightly, Tom shrugged.

                             * * * * *

    Somewhere-- outside, Krieg supposed-- birds were singing.
    Krieg hated birds.
    He'd had one, once. But it had been a pain in the neck to
take care of, and he'd wound up giving it away.
    What were birds doing on the _seaQuest_?
    They weren't doing anything on the _seaQuest_. They weren't
even _on_ the _seaQuest_. Neither was he. He opened his eyes
and looked around the hotel room. He didn't remember coming back
the previous night.
    Then again, he didn't remember much of _anything_ from the
previous night.
    He wondered what had happened.
    "Ben!"
    He sat up abruptly at the shout. He cursed the sudden
movement as his brain began to pound against the interior of his
skull.
    He had a hangover.
    At least he knew why his mind was so fogged up.
    He looked around the room again for the source of the shout.
That was when he realized that he wasn't in his hotel room.
    He was in Katie's.
    *Good going,* he thought. *You finally must have done
something right, and you were too damned drunk to remember it!*
    She walked out of the bathroom, wearing a light green robe.
Her hair was wet.
    "How's the water?" he asked conversationally.
    "Where're your keys?" she fired back at him.
    He raised an eyebrow. "My keys?"
    "Last night, you were too drunk to remember where you'd put
them."
    And now he was too hung over. He debated giving her that as
an excuse. She didn't look like she'd be too happy if he did.
    "I-- uh-- I--"
    She walked forward and grabbed him by the collar-- he was
still in his civvies-- then pulled him within an inch of her
face. "Ben, I think you're about to tell me that you don't know."
    He smiled weakly.
    "If you do," she continued through clenched teeth, "I'll
break every bone in your pitiful body before you know what's
happened. Got that?"
    He smiled, weaker.
    "Well?"
    He remained silent.
    She shoved him back, abruptly releasing him so that he fell
backwards onto the bed.
    He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down with him.
    She landed on top of him and kneed him in the stomach.
    "Ow!" he shouted, doubling up in pain.
    Then, through a wince and a gasp for air, "What the hell was
that for?"
    She stood, a satisfied but thin smile on her face. She
walked back into the bathroom, and he heard her hairdryer as she
turned it on.
    "Katie!" he said loudly, trying to make himself be heard
over the roar of the dryer as his diaphragm began working again.
    Either she didn't hear him, or she was ignoring the call.
For the sake of his ego, Krieg chose to believe the former. He
sauntered to the doorway of the bathroom and watched her for a
moment before trying again.
    "_Katie_!"
    She smiled, as though she hadn't just tried to kill him, and
continued drying her hair. Semi-dried ringlets clung to the back
of her neck, to the side of her face, to--
    *Stopitstopitstopitstopitstopit!* he yelled at himself. To
her, "Shut off that damned hairdryer!"
    To his surprise, she did.
    "Katie," he said, "Why the hell did you--"
    "Because you were asking for it. Get out."
    "You're throwing me out?"
    "Damn right I am."
    "Why?"
    She ignored him, pushing him out of the way as she left the
bathroom, walked to the hallway door, and opened it. "Get out."
    He walked to the door and nodded curtly, feigning a
businesslike expression. "Yes ma'am. Have a nice day."
    She slammed the door in his face.
    He walked about a meter and a half down the hallway, until
he was standing in front of the door to his room.
    He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. It had
been there all along.
    Sometimes, he thought as he slipped it into the lock and
entered his room, getting drunk had its advantages.



TO BE CONTINUED...


===========================  PART 4  =====================================


"Persona Non Grata"
By Rachel Brody
Part Four of Four



    The salt-filled wind in his hair, the waves crashing on
the unspoiled perfection of the beach... It was enough to
make Ben Krieg want to hire a developer and put in a
vacation complex. Paddle boats, miniature golf, a day-care
center for couples who needed a few hours break from their
kids... The amount of cash a place like that would bring in
here was staggering.
    Of course, since the entire area was a protected
national reserve, he knew that there was no chance of that
happening. Unfortunately.
    He winced for a moment at the sunlight that streamed
into his eyes as he pulled his tinted sunglasses off with
one hand, folding over the earpiece and hanging it off the
collar of the t-shirt he was wearing as he stared out over
the water from the synthetic wood boardwalk.
    Being on top of the water, looking down, was so
different from what he was used to. The knowledge that
there weren't thousands of cubic feet of water ready to
crash in on top of him, that there weren't dozens of hostile
confederations all waiting to fire their guns at the ship at
a second's notice... It seemed to somehow take the
challenge out of life. Like what was the point of having a
life if it wasn't in danger ninety-nine-point-nice percent
of the time?
    He laughed at that thought, actually _laughed_. That
he could be standing here, completely relaxed for one of the
first times in his life since he'd come aboard _seaQuest_,
and he'd wish that there _was_ something going on, so he
could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he shouted
across the bridge that yet another system had crashed...
    He'd have to thank Bridger for kicking him out when he
got back.
    The thought that he only had another day and a half to
go on his shore leave was enough to seriously dampen his
mood. So he didn't let it pass into his mind.
    He inhaled deeply, letting the salty-sweet, almost
overwhelming ocean smell permeate his nostrils. This was
the life, he was sure of it. The only thing he was missing
was a beautiful woman on his arm--
    "Ben!" he heard someone shout from down the boardwalk.
    He turned to see Hitchcock, jogging towards him. "Ask
and ye shall receive..." he murmured under his breath.
    "What?" she asked as she neared him. Then she shook
her head. "Never mind."
    "Whatcha doing out here?" he asked as she paused to
inhale deeply. "Finally decide to take me up on that lunch
offer?"
    She shook her head, breathless, and he suddenly
realized that she wasn't acting like she had been earlier
that day when he'd seen her leaving the hotel. She was
acting...he couldn't quite put his finger on it...more
official. As though there was something important that she
had to tell him, and she was trying not to let the fact that
she wanted to rip his guts out and show them to him get in
her way.
    She finally finished catching her breath-- she must
have run all the way from the docks-- and took a deep
breath.
    "I wanted to apologize."
    By that point, Krieg's attention had drifted back to
the water, and the sunlight dancing on it. Her words yanked
him back from the semi-reverie that he was in.
    He turned back from the railing, to face her. The
mildly wistful, almost contemplative expression that had
been on his face while he had stared into the water was
replaced by one that was all business-- or as near to it as
Ben Krieg could get.
    "Apologize?"
    Had he heard her right?
    "Excuse me?"
    She shook her head. "I lost my temper."
    Katie was _apologizing_ for losing her temper?!?
    That threw Krieg off. "Hold on a sec," he said.
"You're doing _what_?!?  You're--"
    She nodded.
    Krieg shrugged.
    "Yeah. Sure. Okay," he said, turning back out to the
ocean. He didn't know what else to say. She had lost her
temper with him other times, all the time, in fact, and this
was the first instance in which she'd ever apologized.
    He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, and
was immediately floored by how beautiful she was.
    Her crystal blue eyes, her dark brown hair, the way it
blew around her face as she stared out into the water...
    "Katie?" he asked.
    "Hm?" she asked, her gaze not faltering as she looked
at the water.
    "I was just wondering," he said, "if you'd like to rent
a boat for the day."

                             * * * * *

    "_Slow down_!"
    "It's okay," Krieg reassured her as he tried
desperately to regain control of the tiny motorboat. Tiny,
that was, compared to _seaQuest_-- which wasn't very tiny at
all. They were careening toward a small at an alarming
speed.
    "I _knew_ I shouldn't let you drive!" she shouted above
the roar of the motor.
    Krieg shrugged. He'd insisted on making it his treat,
so he didn't see why she was complaining. Or maybe she'd
forgotten the memory that had reoccurred to him as soon as
he'd set foot on the little boat.
    It was the memory of a day about six years ago. The
breeze had been strong, and they'd both been on leave in New
Cape Quest. He'd offered to take her out on a boat. She'd
laughed. She'd been on enough boats while she was on duty--
she didn't need to spend her leave on, too.
    He'd argued and cajoled, and after about half an hour,
she'd finally agreed.
    So he'd gotten a friend to lend him his sailboat, and
taken her out for the day. They'd landed at midafternoon at
one of the smaller of Florida's keys, and had a picnic
lunch.
    Picnic, lunch, conversation. A nice, big, dark blue
blanket... The box in his pocket.
    The ring _inside_ the box in his pocket.
    It hadn't taken more than a few minutes before he
worked up the nerve to pop the question. He'd practiced
that morning, and the morning before, and the morning
before-- ever since he'd laid eyes on her, his third day at
the Academy, he supposed.
    She'd been one hot cadet.
    She was an even hotter Lieutenant Commander.
    She'd never even realized that he'd spent three hours
writing the proposal with a friend of his from the security
department, who could write passable poetry. She'd thought
it was kind of romantic, that he'd taken her out and
proposed on the beach.
    So she'd said sure.
    And in the long run, that was all that really mattered.
    Or at least, that was all that mattered until she
decided he was a jerk and she couldn't stand to be near him,
and he decided that even though he loved her like hell, he
couldn't live with another person for any extended amount of
time.
    "Ben, would you slow down already?!?"
    "Katie, live a little!"
    She grabbed his hands and yanked them off the wheel,
taking it herself and turning the boat away. A fine spray
went up, drenching both of them as she pulled the boat
through it. Krieg took a step back as she took over the
wheel.
    She tried to wipe the water away from her face without
taking her hands off the wheel. She couldn't do it.
    "Let me get that," he offered, reaching up to pull her
hair out of her face. She was too distracted by the boat to
protest. Her jaw was set in concentration, and all her
attention was on the water. As Krieg wiped the water off
his own face, he watched a single droplet as it trickled
down her nose, finally falling to the deck.
    God, she was gorgeous.
    "Stop staring at me, Ben."
    He immediately looked away, too quickly. Made it too
obvious how difficult it was for him to do what she asked.
He looked back at the shore, now at least a kilometer behind
them.
    "You're pretty good at this, you know."
    She actually smiled at that. "Mm-hm," she said, trying
not to acknowledge him. "Better than you were."
    So she _did_ remember. On their way back from the
island, they'd wound up having to call the Coast Guard.
    Krieg had crashed into a rock.
    It had been embarrassing, but he'd barely noticed.
Thanks to his fiance. She'd kept him...distracted, while
the Coast Guard towed the boat off the rocks.
    His friend's conniption had been waylaid when Krieg had
told him the news.
    "Maybe," he acceded.
    She looked at him for a moment-- just the barest of
moments--before she realized that drawing her attention away
from piloting probably wasn't the best of ideas.
    "Hold it," he said, gently easing her hands off the
wheel and cutting the motor. As the sound died, the lap of
the water against the sides of the boat suddenly became
easier to hear.
    She looked up at him. "What?" she asked.
    He stared out at the sun across the water. It was
setting, leaving a trail of light across the waves.
    "S'beautiful, isn't it," he said. It wasn't a
question.
    She looked out, too. And she nodded. "Mm-hm," she
murmured, obviously impressed.
    He found himself staring again. But not at her this
time. Out over the water. He looked back in to shore, and
realized that they were miles and miles away. It would take
about an hour to get back.
    At the rate the sun was setting, he knew they'd better
get going soon.
    But Katie didn't want to leave just yet, so he agreed
and they stayed out, staring at the setting sun, for a few
more minutes. By the time he realized it was dark, almost
an hour had passed. He turned to her.
    "We'd better get going," he said.
    She looked up at him.
    "Do you want to drive or should I?"
    He shrugged. "Whatever you want."
    She smiled. "Go ahead, then."
    He moved to the wheel and pressed down hard on the
engine key.
    It sputtered, as though taking a dying breath, then
died.
    Krieg checked the gas gauge.
    *Oh great now she's gonna think I'm doing this on
purpose...* "Uh, Katie?" he said nervously. She looked up.
"You're not gonna believe this, but...um...we're kinda out
of gas."
    Her brow furrowed. "What?"
    He gestured to the readout. "I...um... Well, I don't
know _exactly_ how it happened, but I didn't do it on
purpose, I promise."
    She shook her head.
    "Yeah, I know."
    Even though her words said she believed him, the look
in her eyes and the expression on her face said she suddenly
wished she was back ashore.
    He backed toward the radio.
    "Here, I'll just call the coast guard and have them--"
He stopped talking as he picked up the transmitter and
started dialing.
    He didn't bother finishing.
    "The line's, um, dead."
    She looked at him skeptically. "It's dead."  Her tone
made it clear that it wasn't a question.
    He nodded carefully. "Mm-hm."
    They stood in silence for a moment, staring at each
other. All Krieg could hear was the water as the waved hit
the side of the boat.
    And all he could see was her.

                             * * * * *

    It had been three days, and _seaQuest_ was picking up the
shuttle that had left seventy-two hours earlier.
    Bridger was meeting Krieg and Hitchcock in the shuttle bay.
    He was almost afraid to see the condition they were in. He
hadn't realized until after they'd departed how long they'd be
together. In a confined space, at least until they arrived in
port.
    He hoped he hadn't lost a good officer.
    Or two.
    It had been about ten minutes since Hitchcock had radioed in
with their ETA, and they would be here any minute.
    Bridger waited a few more seconds before the airlock door
opened.
    Hitchcock walked out first. Without making eye contact, she
walked, quickly, across and out of the shuttle bay.
    Behind her was Krieg. He had a grin on his face the size of
which Bridger had never seen.
    Bridger was almost hesitant to ask what had happened.
Nonetheless, his curiosity got the better of him, and he walked
up to Krieg as the lieutenant sauntered across the bay.
    He could only get one answer to his question:  "The boat
broke down."
    He watched, in a mild state of shock, as Krieg left the
room.
    Still grinning.


THE END
==========================================================================


Copyright 1996
Rachel Brody