This is a work of fan-fiction based on characters and situations created by Rockne S. O'Bannon for the 1990s television series, seaQuest DSV. The seaQuest DSV concept and logo are registered trademarks of Amblin Entertainment and Universal Television. I claim no rights to their intellectual or commercial property. Offered for entertainment only and in sincere tribute to their much-beloved creation.


Chapter 2


Wendy planned to keep a keen eye on O’Neill after that night. The next morning, he dropped by Medbay.

“I called my priest.” His voice stopped there, but his mind screamed, “as you ordered, Doctor.”

Since it was important enough that she would have used her authority to order it had he balked, she tried to ignore what he didn’t say aloud. “That’s great, Tim. How are you—” She saw his frown and shaking head. “What’s wrong?”

“He wouldn’t absolve me.”

Wendy wasn’t Catholic, but she’d never heard of a priest refusing absolution. It was pretty obvious by Tim’s body language that he’d inferred his sin must be unforgivable. Wendy tried desperately to guess why. “Does he need to see you in person?”

“No. I confess by vid-link all the time.”

Ten minutes in confession was usually more effective in dealing with a patient’s guilt than 30 hours of counseling. That was why she’d suggested it. Seeing Tim suffering emotionally was even more painful than the genome-wave-energy weapons she’d felt sympathetically. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find another priest, Tim.”

He shook his head and placed a crumpled piece of paper on her desk. “Father Baker said you should contact him.”

“Me? Did he say why?”

Tim shrugged and moved toward the hatch. He squared his shoulders and schooled his facial expression to what most non-telepaths would accept as neutral.

He’d already stepped over the hatch opening when she called after him. “I’ll call him right now.”

He paused and nodded. She felt some of his gloom lift. “Thank you, Doctor.”

The hatch hissed as the seal formed and she whispered to emptiness, “Wendy.”

She only let a second pass before she snatched up the paper and hurried to sit at the vid-link station. After punching in all the required digits, she stared at the note while the connections were made. She’d hadn’t cleared Tim for duty yet (medical being the official reason), but whoever manned communications would recognize the call came from Medbay and therefore warranted top priority. Even if no one on the bridge were paying attention, it would be routed automatically unless the captain had ordered some kind of tactical silence.

She tried to control her anger toward this uppity priest who refused a penitent man forgiveness. Hear him out first, she scolded herself. The paper caught her eye again and she realized it hadn’t merely been rumpled a little to travel in the lieutenant’s pocket. It had been wadded into a ball and probably…

“Hello?” A middle-aged man in a Hawaiian print shirt smiled back from the screen. The text display revealed the call’s location as Pearl Harbor.

“Hello. This is Dr. Wendy Smith on the seaQuest. I’m looking for Father Stanley Baker.”

“That’s me.” The man actually winked and his smile grew bigger.

“Oh, I didn’t…”

He waved away her apology. “Not a problem.” He pulled at his shirt near the breast pocket. “Can’t seem to find this print in a collarino.” He chuckled at himself.

Wendy opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.

“You’re calling about Timothy O’Neill, right?”

“Yes, he said you wanted to speak with me. Frankly, Father, I cannot comprehend why you won’t—”

“Whoa, ma’am. I want this cleared up just as much as you do. Timothy is like a son to me. I gave him 24 hours to give you the message, but I would have called you myself if he chickened out.”

“He’s not a coward,” Wendy said guardedly. She didn’t sense any overt deception on his part, but ‘like a son’ wasn’t always a good thing.

The priest nodded and traded the smile for a serious expression. “No, he’s not, and I’m glad to learn you realize it. He respects you tremendously. So let’s get straight to the point. While I can absolve forgotten sins committed many years before confession or perhaps under the influence of alcohol or drugs, I don’t believe this is the case with Timothy.”

Wendy shook her head. “He wasn’t on duty when it happened, but if he’d had any alcohol in his system at all, it would have been purged by the adrenaline his body produced to combat the torture.”

“Yes, he mentioned he’d been Zapped with some kind of experimental energy weapon or something.”

Yeah, or something. Was he going to sneer at the pain Tim had suffered? Because if he was, she was going to give him a piece of her mind and probably an even bigger piece of her voice. But not yet. He was being courteous and she would hear him out before she jumped his case. “It was genome-wave-energy, developed for use on criminal GELFs.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It is. His captor showed no mercy. We’re lucky he survived.”

“Indeed. Can I ask you, Doctor…does this genome-wave-energy affect memory?”

“I don’t know that much about it; no one really does. None of the GELFs it has been used on have evidenced memory damage.”

“And humans?”

“Lt. O’Neill is the only human it has ever been used on and I highly doubt you’d find anyone to volunteer for testing.”

He nodded. “I see. So it’s possible that this experimental weapon is responsible for the memory loss.”

“Forgive me, Father, I don’t understand all your beliefs, but Lt. O’Neill is deeply aggrieved by his perceived betrayal and the guilt is eating him up inside.” Now what are you going to do about it?

“Perceived betrayal, Doctor?”

“The seaQuest is still here and we suffered relatively few injuries in the attack. But even had we sustained more damage, no one would blame the lieutenant for breaking under such extreme conditions.”

“No one but Timothy.”

Wendy sighed defeatedly. “Yes.”

“Please believe I had Timothy’s welfare in mind when I proceeded with this odd course of action, Doctor.”

She gave him the smallest nod she could manage.

“I don’t want to offer Timothy absolution unless we at least try to get him to remember exactly what he did.”

“Do you know how painful that would be for him? The circumstantial evidence alone grieves him terribly.” She wanted to tell him about Tim’s self-loathing, but she was already dangerously close to violating his patient confidentiality.

The man set his jaw and his voice hardened. “I am fully aware, Doctor, and that’s precisely the point. If I give him blanket absolution, then he will always assume his ‘true’ sin was greater than what he could remember and thus what I absolved him of.”

Finally, understanding dawned. “He’d never feel fully forgiven.”

The clergyman sighed and nodded. “Yes. I fear he’d carry unnecessary guilt for the rest of his life. We’ll have to consult Timothy, of course, but can you hypnotize him with me present?”

Hypnosis! Yes! She could help him control all the shock his mind was protecting him from. “As long as Lt. O’Neill agrees, then absolutely. Should I call him now?”

The man chuckled. “Bless you for seeing the urgency, Doctor. But I do believe with all of Timothy’s communications experience, he’d feel more comfortable if we didn’t broadcast this, even on a secure channel.”

Her respect for this priest growing, Wendy nodded. “I can arrange medical leave for both of us immediately. Where should we meet you?”

“You’re quite welcome to come here, but as a navy chaplain, I think they’d allow me fly out to you. My computer shows seaQuest is on inactive status, under repairs in the South Pacific. I hope that means you’re on the surface. My SCUBA certification has expired.”

She chuckled. Crew had been placing calls and going on regular shore leave in Auckland while they did repairs. They spent almost as much time above the water as below and even when they were under for test runs, they didn’t go very far or very deep. “Ordinarily, you could take a shuttle, but Launch Bay is one of the areas under repair. I’ll make a personal request to the captain for surfacing so Lt. O’Neill won’t feel he’s putting anyone out.”

“And your captain will do that for you?”

She nodded emphatically. “For me. Or for the lieutenant. Either way.”

“Great! You talk to Timothy and be sure it’s okay with him, and I’ll find out when I can catch a lift.” His smile radiated on the screen for a moment after the connection severed.

She stood and straightened her shirt. Whom to speak to first? She knew both men well enough that neither of their answers were really a concern. It was mere courtesy to ask. But of the two, she was slightly more sure of Tim than Nathan, so it was the captain she would ask first. She pressed her intercom button. “Smith to Captain Bridger.”

“Go ahead,” came the captain’s commanding intonation. It took a little effort not to let his voice affect her emotionally.

“May I see you in Medbay at your convenience?”

There was a short pause. “Ten minutes all right, Doctor?”

“See you then.” She considered talking to Tim in the meanwhile, but her sway would be slightly greater once the captain had made the concession to surface.

Wendy used her computer to pull up Father Baker’s navy records. She skimmed over his bio just enough to be prepared for any concerns the captain might have. The only detail that caught her eye was the fact he spoke three languages. Not the amazing polyglot Tim was, but it probably gave them some common ground. His photograph looked recent, with the same smile she’d seen on her vid-link, but he wore a standard naval officer’s uniform with chaplain’s insignia instead of the casual Hawaiian print.

She left the information on the screen and glanced at her schedule. Free for lunch. She smiled. Good information to have.

The quiet creak of hinges made her look up. Captain Nathan Bridger stood in the oval hatch opening, looking both scrupulously regulation and breathtakingly handsome at the same time. He stepped in, looking to see if there were any patients or other staff about. He’d temper his conversation according to whether they might be overheard. Medbay was deserted except for her.

Wendy stood. “Thank you for coming, Captain.”

He smiled warmly. “What can I do for you, Doctor?”

“I need a favor.”

“A favor, hmm? Well, I guess I owe you for saving my neck a few times.” He didn’t take her skills lightly and she knew it. It was just his way of keeping the tone light.

“I’ve invited a chaplain from Pearl to seaQuest and the rendezvous may require a non-scheduled surfacing.”

“Don’t we have a chaplain onboard?”

“Yes, sir, but this consultation is a little unorthodox and—”

He held up a halting hand. “Is this for Mr. O’Neill?”

It was no breach of confidentiality to affirm this. She’d berated the captain (a little too sternly, as she recalled) when he sent Tim on a 30-day leave without seeking her input first. He already knew she would pursue his case. Besides, she hadn’t gone into any personal detail concerning what the priest wanted. “Yes.”

“Done.”

“You didn’t even ask his name!”

“For O’Neill, I’d take seaQuest a thousand miles off course to bring Admiral Overbeck himself aboard.”

This was really saying something for Nathan. He’d made no secret of his loathing of this particular superior, both personally and professionally. Wendy smiled and reached out to touch his shoulder. “I knew you would. His name is Father Stanley Baker and he’s making arrangements already.”

The captain rolled his eyes and threw his hands up melodramatically. “Does anyone ever consult me before plans are made?”

She winked at him. “I haven’t asked O’Neill yet. Does that count?”

He quirked a brow. “Oh? How do you know he wouldn’t be more comfortable with the seaQuest’s chaplain then?”

“Evidently, Tim prefers confession by vid-link. Father Baker is the one who requested my collaboration.” She handed him the crumpled paper.

He studied it carefully. “And the lieutenant debated whether or not to tell you.”

“Apparently.”

“How is he, Doctor?”

“Physically, he’s fine. But emotionally, he’s in a great deal of pain.”

“Understandable. I won’t pry. You have my full support, no matter how unorthodox.” He shook his finger at her. “I don’t want to lose him.”

Wendy tried not to think how attractive he was when he got possessive. “None of us do.”

He looked around. “Anything else I can do while I’m down here?”

“How are you feeling, Nathan?” She realized she should have asked this sooner. With a severe concussion, he’d been the worst injured in the attack. She’d only cleared him for duty 36 hours ago. She hadn’t even tried to read his body language when he arrived; she’d gawked at him instead.

“My head still hurts like a bear, but not to the point of distraction.”

“And repairs?”

“Going smoothly. We should be top-notch in another week or so.”

“Good. Then how about lunch?”

He smiled broadly. “I thought you’d never ask.”



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