This story takes place right after the second season opener. The crew did not yet know or trust each other. There was constant bickering going on between Lucas & Tony. Lucas felt that Tony was invading his privacy. Tony did not particularly want to be on seaQuest at all. Ford & Brody were also at loggerheads because both were so competitive. Bridger was at wit's end with the whole mess.

By Jane Woods

"The rules are there for a reason," Jonathan Ford insisted as he walked onto the bridge of  seaQuest with his new "bunkmate".

"They are just a guideline," Brody argued. "A good commander goes by his own gut feelings."

"Are you two still at it?" Bridger was exasperated. He'd left these two in the officer's mess hall last night because of their constant disagreements.

"At what?" they both asked.

"Arguing. It's enough to give a guy a headache," Bridger complained.

"We aren't arguing," Ford stated. He was acutely aware that all eyes on the bridge were on them.

"No sir," Brody agreed, "We were discussing. The Commander and I just have different command styles. He prefers to be cautious and go by the book while I...."

"The book was written for a reason, Lt," Bridger told him but he noticed Ford seemed to be gloating. "Of course, each situation must be looked upon in it's own light."

"Exactly what I was saying! " Brody was triumphant.

Bridger wondered what he had stirred up. Brody seemed to be enthusiastically taking the ball and running with it.

"Especially in field conditions," Brody went on. "Sitting here on this big submarine is one thing. You're relatively safe no matter what but out there in the kind of situations we SEALs find ourselves in then you have to go by well honed instinct."

"You and your SEALs," Ford was disgusted, "I'd put any man here on seaQuest up against them any day."

"Are you kidding?" Brody laughed. "The training the SEALs go through would kill these subjockeys."

Bridger had had it. It was a stupid discussion and there seemed no end in sight to it. It had, however, given Bridger an idea. "Are you guys willing to put your money where your mouth is?"

"Sir?" Ford asked curiously. It sounded like the Captain was suggesting some type of bet and gambling was expressly forbidden under the Naval Regulations governing shipboard activities. He forced his attention back to the Captain.

"Gentlemen," Bridger said with an air of mystery in his voice, "I am proposing a challenge."

***

The more Bridger thought about his plan the better he liked it. SeaQuest was currently cruising an area that was dotted with small uninhabited tropical islands. He had checked the charts and found one that suited his purposes. Brody and Ford would each get a team. They would be dropped off in launches at opposite ends of the island. First team to reach a predesignated spot would win the challenge. He'd issued the challenge on the bridge in front of the entire bridge crew. Neither had much choice but to accept it. He would hand-pick the teams. This was a display of their leadership abilities, after all, the teams themselves shouldn't matter.

Brody's team would come from security. Many of them had had SEAL training but they were still Crocker's men. Crocker and Brody were two vastly different men. He knew that Brody would have to prove himself in their eyes. To them he was a fast talking dandy who'd spent his last tour as a jailer. They'd all seen Brody's record and it was very impressive but actions speak louder than words and this would be a chance for Brody to prove to them he was a man they could follow with the same blind trust Crocker had earned.

Ford, on the other hand, was in a different situation this tour himself. The crew had been somewhat streamlined and he would not have someone like Hitchcock to act as his liaison. He would have to deal with the crew more directly himself. This was the way Bridger had designed it. Ford was completely at ease with the running of the ship and he knew every Naval Regulation from John Paul Jones' time to the present but he needed more experience with people. He had always kept himself a bit apart from the crew. Regulations state you should do this. Emotional attachments to members of the crew could cloud a commander's judgment in times of distress.

That was what the regulation book said but Bridger knew that a commander's best asset was to truly know his crew and to understand people. Ford had to learn these things and he would never do it if he stayed in the Ivory Tower he'd built for himself.

He had called both Ford and Brody to his quarters. He looked up from his desk as they entered. When the niceties were done and they were both sitting across from him he got down to business. "I have your team rosters."

They both looked eager.

"Brody, you'll have Adams, McCormick, Torres, Wilkinson and Donner." He had purposely picked the men that were most devoted to Crocker. He could tell that these men would not have been Brody's own choice. Brody felt more at home with the men who, like him, were new to the boat. None of Brody's team were officers. They were all enlisted men who probably had little use for officers They were highly trained security men and experts in survival but not Navy SEALs as Brody was. Donner was even within a few years of retirement age. He could tell by the look on Brody's face that he considered him too old for the task. Brody needed to learn that experience counts for a lot. Donner had been Crocker's right hand man. He would keep the brash young Lt out of too much trouble, Bridger reasoned.

Ford was a study in patience as he waited to hear who would be on his team.

"Your team will largely come from the bridge crew," he told him.

"Yes sir." Ford was noncommittal

"First off, Ortiz" he began. He could tell Ford was pleased with this choice. Ortiz was young and fit and grew up in the tropics. "Next, Henderson."

"Henderson?" Ford gasped.

"Yes Henderson. Have you got a problem with that, Commander?"

"Well, no sir. It's just that she's new to the boat. Shouldn't she be really concentrating on learning the helm?"

"She's completely checked out and certified on the helm. What's your real objection?"

"Well, sir, isn't it obvious?" Ford actually squirmed. Bridger enjoyed every minute of it.

"Apparently not. Suppose you explain it to me." Bridger caught the smirk on Brody's face but did not acknowledge it.

"She's a girl," Ford said helplessly.

"And under Naval regulations all crew is to be treated completely equally regardless of  gender."

"I don't mean that she's a woman -- she's, well, she's a little immature. She brought a teddy bear on board with her."

"A good luck charm, much like Brody's rabbit's foot."

"Brody has a rabbit's foot?" Now it was Ford's turn to be amused. "It wasn't very lucky for the rabbit, was it?" He teased.

"Been lucky for me," Brody smiled undaunted.

"Getting back to Henderson. She's been trained in wilderness survival. She's also cross trained as a medic, as is Adams. Both teams will have someone with more than basic first aid." He looked up at Ford who still looked like he wanted to object. "Any thing else?"

"Sir, what about, you know, hormones."

"Yours or hers?"

"I'm not worried about myself. What about the other men - there will be other men, won't there?"

"As CO I guess you'll have to rein them in but , Commander. We are all professionals here. I don't expect any problems along those lines. Now onto the rest of your team. You two are not the only ones who have been driving me crazy with your constant bickering. There's a couple of other guys on this boat who need to learn to get along. You're taking Piccolo and Lucas."

"Piccolo? He's practically a criminal!"

"He's a member of your crew and I expect you to treat him as you would any other member of that crew."

"Well, what about Lucas? He's a kid and besides he's not Navy. He isn't trained for this. I don't think it would be safe to send him on a survival training mission."

"No. He isn't Navy but he's a member of the crew and as such might be called upon to survive in hostile conditions. He needs to learn these things but so as to not put your team at too great a disadvantage I will be also assign you the other civilian we have onboard. His strength and stamina should come in very handy."

"The dagger?"

"They prefer GELF," Brody told him.

"He called himself a dagger."

"He calls himself Dagwood. That is how you are to refer to him as well," Bridger stated.

"Yes sir." Ford was making every attempt to not look miserable. He voiced no further argument.

*

Neither Lucas nor Piccolo had acquiesced that easily. Piccolo had pointed out that he had been born and raised in New York City and was not one for camping. He also pointed out it had nothing to do with his specialty since it was on land not underwater. Lucas had also bitterly complained stating that he was a computer and science specialist not a Boy Scout. Bridger knew that the time in Lucas' life that should have been given over to the Boy Scouts had been filled with college. This was probably just what Lucas needed to become less self-absorbed and more a part of the team.

In the end, of course, the Captain got his way. Ortiz took the assignment in stride. Both Henderson and Dagwood seemed genuinely excited to be included.

Both teams had been bundled off to opposite ends of the island in separate shuttles. Brody's team had drawn the shorter but more treacherous route over the mountains while Ford's group would be taking the longer route that took them across beaches, small rivers, hills and a forested region. Neither team had any weapons. As the island was uninhabited, weapons seemed  unnecessary. Brody's team, more than Ford's, was bothered by this condition.

***

Ford told himself he was a professional. His captain had assigned him a task and he would perform it - no matter how impossible it seemed. He looked up from his map and around at his team. He didn't know these new people. He might not feel at such a loss if he had the crew he knew. If he had, say, Hitchcock. He was sure she could handle something like this. Of course, he might have been stuck with Kreig. He never had seen eye to eye with that man but somehow the devil you know was better than the devil you didn't know and he would have almost preferred him to these new people. That was why you couldn't get attached to your crew. After the tour they are out of your life. That was why he had to remain aloof, he told himself. Brody had Crocker's old people and he had these people. He could almost hear Brody gloat over his victory. Well, he was still competitive and he was going to give his all to the task at hand, no matter how hopeless it seemed.

Lucas sat on the beach with his back to everyone. He wore his headset and was listening to what he referred to as music. He watched the launch as it disappeared beneath the waves on its way back to seaQuest. Lucas did not want to be here any more than Ford wanted him here.  He was sulking.

Ford couldn't understand Lucas. If he had had the opportunity to be involved with something like seaQuest when he as 17, he would have been the happiest kid on the planet. So, okay he was a kid but he wasn't a toddler. He did not intend to mollycoddle him the way Bridger did, in Ford's opinion. He walked up to him. "If you're still sitting there when we are ready to move out, we'll go without you."

"So what else is new? I'm used to being abandoned."

"Oh, cut the dramatics. They don't play with me. I had a kid brother. I've heard it all. You're going to pull your own weight here."

"Or?" Lucas accepted his challenge defiantly.

"Or when seaQuest picks us up at the rendezvous point you won't be with us and you stay here."

"You can't leave me here," Lucas laughed

"Watch me," he said quietly but firmly. He walked over to where Piccolo stood glowering as he leaned against a palm tree watching them.

"You MUST have something to do," he barked.

"Aye sir." Piccolo began picking up supplies.

Ford was sure he'd love to be left behind but that wasn't going to happen. Tony had argued that he was a street kid and didn't know anything about jungle survival but Ford's father had been a street kid too and from what he knew of his father being a street kid meant being a survivor. This kid was tough, he would make it without the kid glove treatment Lucas was probably going to require. Too damn many kids on this expedition, he groused. As if those two weren't enough he was also saddled with Henderson. She was sure no Katie Hitchcock! Where Katie was cool and completely competent in any situation this kid was as green as they come. She seemed to be overwhelmed with such a sense of wonder he'd be surprised if she lasted one day.

He walked over to where Henderson, Ortiz and Dagwood divvied supplies up into packs.He had to admit Dagwood intimidated him a bit. He was so big and quiet. It wasn't his looks, he told himself. He actually had quite a bit of empathy for the daggers. His people had been mistreated by the government and the general populace so he understood their frustration. Not that this dagger or GELF had had anything to do with that uprising but still he was uncomfortable around him. Ortiz was his only real hope in this competition. He was young but not a kid. He was also Cuban. Cuba was an Atlantic island probably not terribly unlike this one in climate and terrain. Ortiz would be at home here, that much, at least was in his favor.

"We about ready to get this show on the road?" He tried to sound like he was in command and fully confident of their success.

"Just about, sir," Henderson chirped happily. "Here's your pack." She handed a heavy pack to him.

He took it and was surprised by how much it weighed. She hoisted her own pack to her back with ease.

"This is going to be fun," she grinned.

"Fun! This is a survival training mission. It is not intended to be fun?!"

"Well, it still can be. I love the outdoors and camping."

"Camping?!" He thought of overcrowded National Parks with wall to wall RVs and all the luxuries of home. "This won't be like a family camping trip."

"That's for sure," she agreed, "We've got an awful lot more gear than my father would have ever allowed us to bring. He believed in living off the land. How can you really commune with Nature unless you meet her on her own terms?"

"We're not here to 'commune'. We're hear to survive."

"It doesn't have to be a battle," she smiled undaunted. "You can cooperate with Nature. You don't have to try and conquer it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Work with nature not against it, you'll get a lot farther with a lot less effort."

Before he could answer a loud groan and a lot of grumbling erupted from Lucas. He was going to start complaining about the weight of his pack. Ford prepared to do battle with him but Henderson just walked up to him.

"If that's too heavy for you, Lucas, I'll be happy to take some of it for you," she said pleasantly.

"No, I - it's fine," Lucas was flustered.

Henderson walked back to Ford. "See what I mean?" she asked under her breath.

Ford wasn't sure exactly what he had witnessed but somehow he doubted that Lucas would complain about his pack, at least for a while. One problem solved. No male would have given some of his load to that frail looking girl -- not even a spoiled brat like Lucas. It wasn't in a guy's nature - Nature? Is that what she meant by working with nature. He put it all out of his mind and walked up to Ortiz. "I'm really counting on you, Ortiz," he told him.

"Sir?"

"To pull this off. I'm afraid you and I are going to have to carry the rest of them, at least this is your natural habitat, right?"

"Sir?"

"This island I'll bet it looks pretty much like Cuba, huh?"

"I guess?" Ortiz sounded confused but a little suspicious.

"You guess? You're Cuban, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I was born in Miami. I'm a real American, Sir. Third generation. How do you think I could have gotten in the US Navy if I was a Cuban National?" There was fire in Ortiz' eyes but he forced his voice to be relatively calm.

Ford suddenly felt like a fool. Ortiz always said he was Cuban. He never gave it much thought but he could almost hear Bridger's voice in his head telling him he had just managed to insult the most even tempered guy on the boat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply - anything."

Ortiz' anger was fleeting. He smiled, "It's alright, Commander. It's a good thing I'm on your team instead of Torres."

"Torres? I thought he was Mexican."

"He's American, Sir. He just doesn't deal with prejudice as well as I do."

"Prejudice?! I'm not prejudiced."

"Course not, sir, but you know how hot headed us Latinos are," Ortiz walked away.

His words had smacked of sarcasm. Ford's father's money had cushioned him against open prejudice and he never thought he could be guilty of such a thing. The difference in their rank had prevented Ortiz from showing it but he could tell he was angry. He'd never really seen Ortiz angry before. This definitely came under the heading of working against nature, he thought glumly. He shook the thought off. He had a mission to accomplish - beating Brody to the rendezvous point was the only thing he could worry about.

* * *

Brody was having a few problems of his own. He was acutely aware of being the new kid on the block in Security. He knew he would have to prove himself to win these guys over. Beating the bridge crew would be a great way to do it. On most boats there was a little rivalry between the bridge and the rest of the boat. It was felt that the bridge crew had the captain's ear, so to speak and there was some jealousy about that. It was sibling rivalry taken to the next step.

The Security team had a lot of the crew's money riding on them. They wanted this win badly and he would see that they got it. He had consulted his map. There was a steep rock face just north of their position. It would really impress his men if he were to lead them up it, he decided. Rock climbing was a hobby of his. He didn't usually do it with a full field pack but he could foresee no problems. He laid out his plan to the men but it was met with less enthusiasm than he expected.

McCormick looked over his shoulder at the map. "Beggin' your pardon, Lt," he began, "but it looks like there's an easier way up to the plateau."

"Easy? Who cares about easy? That way will take days. This way we'll have been on the beach working on our tans for two or three days when the bridge crew comes struggling into sight."

"I don't need to work on my tan," Joe Wilkinson, a black chief said emphatically. "And I don't need my brains scrambled on the rocks below if I fall."

"Nobody's going to fall," Brody started to explain but looking at the men, he suddenly wondered how quickly lack of enthusiasm could turn into downright mutiny.

"Maybe not, Lt," Adams spoke up, "but it seems like an unnecessary risk. Ford's team won't get to the beach for days -- look at the morass they have to cross."

He could see that climbing the cliff scared the men. It did not scare him. If he did it, it would make him look brave in their eyes, he reasoned. Besides climbing that cliff would be very strenuous. It wouldn't do to have an old guy like Donner have a heart attach or something. "Okay. Let's do this. We'll divide up into two teams. Some of us will climb. Some of us will go around. That way those of us that climb can blaze the trail for the others and we can still be sure of beating Ford's team."

They mulled that over. He knew he could order them to all climb but only the fact that he climbed when they were afraid to was important to him. It was finally decided that Brody and Torres would climb while the others went around with the heaviest of the gear. Torres was a certified climber, too.

"You gotta get to the beach early if you want to find a place to park," Torres told the others as he and Brody prepared to climb.

What Brody thought of as bravery these men thought of as stupidity.

***

When Ford's team camped for the night the grumbling about the rations began. Lucas outgrumbled Tony. While it was clear that Ortiz and Henderson did not enjoy the rations, they said nothing. Dagwood, however, did seem to like them. Ford, himself, found them lacking in appeal but he did not let on.

"I bet there ain't a decent restaurant on this whole island," Tony ventured.

"There's nothing on this whole stupid island," Lucas complained bitterly. He was now tired, sore and somewhat sunburned to add to his previous list of complaints. "And I shouldn't even be here. This probably constitutes child abuse," he muttered.

Ford tried to ignore him. He was a little stiff himself and today was an easy walk compared to what lay ahead of them. Since this was survival training, Navy regs would be followed and that meant they would post a watch. Lucas was delighted to be excluded from this duty. During Piccolo's watch it was discovered that he had a large cache of candy bars with him.

The smell of chocolate woke the rest of them up as no one had been satisfied by the rations. His refusal to share with anyone just added more tension to the already tense group and drove the wedge deeper between him and Lucas.

***

Brody had determined that it would take a full day to climb the cliff. He and Torres spent the night at the drop off point while the others took off the long way with most of the heavy equipment.

The next morning they got an early start as they made their assault on the rock face.Brody took the lead and the heavier Torres acted as the anchor man.

***

The next day when they stopped for lunch Tony sneaked off by himself presumably to indulge his sweet tooth in private.

"He's gonna get cavities," Henderson assured the rest of them.

"Who needs him anyway," Ortiz said pulling up a green plant. "You want something sweet? Bite into this." He hacked the stock away for her.

She looked skeptical but bit it anyway. "Ohh, that is sweet. What is it?"

"Sugar cane. It's growing all over down there. Some one must have planted it once."

"I thought this island was uninhabited," she said

"Maybe it wasn't always."

"You know quite a bit about these islands," Ford stated thinking his earlier suspicions were correct. "You knew that was sugar cane."

"Sugar cane grows in Florida."

"You do seem pretty at home here," Henderson seemed to agree with Ford.

"When I was a kid I would spend summers with my grandfather on his boat. We explored a lot of islands like this one looking for pirate treasure," he remembered with a laugh.

"Ever find any?" Henderson asked

"Not really. Sometimes we would find some fancy buttons or old brass buckles. I found a cannonball once. At least we thought that was what it was. It looked kinda like a rock. I kept it, though. It did make a good door stop."

"Must have been fun."

"Yeah. It was."

Just then there was a bloodcurdling scream followed almost immediately by Tony crashing through the underbrush. He was pale as a sheet.

"What is it?" Ford asked.

He had to gasp for breath several times before he could speak. "A--a dinosaur, sir!"

"A what?!" Ford was exasperated.

"I swear, sir. If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'," Tony held up his right hand.

"I want to see it," Dagwood was excited and charged off the way Tony had come.

"Me too!" Henderson ran after him.

"Dinosaur," Lucas scoffed.

"See for yourself, Brain Boy," Tony never did care for Lucas' superior attitude

Before long, all of them, including a reluctant Tony were in a small clearing. The scattered candy bar wrappers told them this was the spot where Tony had been.

"So where's this Tyrannosaurus?" Lucas demanded.

"I never said what kind it was. It was more like some other kind of dinosaur."

"Where is it, Tony?" Dagwood asked.

Tony looked around desperately, "I guess we must have scared it off. It was right here -- THERE. There it is."

They looked where he was pointing. A large green lizard sat in the branch of a tree nearly invisible as it blended in with its surroundings.

"That's an iguana," Ortiz laughed. "They're harmless. I had one as a pet. They eat bugs not people. Course...." Ortiz hesitated dramatically.

"What?" Tony was hooked.

"They are kind of partial to chocolate. They might smell it on your breath even. You're liable to wake up some morning and find yourself in a lizard liplock," Ortiz laughed.

"Yuk it up, Ortiz," Tony growled realizing he'd been played for a fool.

"Pick up your mess," Ford indicated the wrappers. "And let's get going." He led the way back to the place where they had stopped for lunch.

"What was his name?" Dagwood asked.

"Whose name?" Ortiz asked back.

"Your iguana."

"Oh. It was kind of a stupid name."

"Let me guess," Henderson laughed "Iggy."

"No. That would have been an improvement. My little sister was afraid of it so the only way I could keep it was to win her over. I finally had to agree to let her name it."

"What did she name it?" Lucas was now interested.

"Fluffy," he admitted dourly.

"Fluffy?!" They all laughed.

He sighed and walked on. He was used to the reaction. It was hard to impress your friends by having a cool pet like an iguana once they found out its name.

* * *

The next morning Ford was, once more, consulting the map. At last, he was satisfied with his course. He looked up. "Okay. We ready?" he asked folding up the map.

Henderson was tying her bedroll to her back pack. Lucas sat on a log. He once more wore his head set and hit the log with a stick presumably keeping time with the music. He still appeared to be sulking about Bridger having forced him to come along. Ford was less than thrilled with his presence also. The last thing he needed was to be a baby-sitter. He was still bound and determined to beat Brody at his own game. His eyes fell on Dagwood who was looking at a flower and marveling at its beauty. At least, Dagwood was strong and could carry a lot of weight. He was also in excellent physical shape and would follow orders without question. He considered that an asset -- particularly since Lucas and Tony seemed to question everything. Still in all, Ortiz was still his best hope. He suddenly realized Ortiz was not there. "Where's Ortiz?"

"Well," Piccolo said somewhat smugly, "judgin' from the equipment he took with him, I'd say he was answerin' mother nature's call."

"Oh." Ford was taken aback. He glanced at Henderson. The crude remark did not seem  to unnerve her at all. He remembered that, of all of them, she was the one he'd protested about taking the most. Aside from the obvious biological considerations he did not consider her all that competent. They'd had a personality conflict from the moment she'd set foot on the boat, although it was not as great as the one he had with Brody. Brody was insufferable, she was merely immature. Maybe this assignment would be good for her.

He glanced at his watch, although he wasn't sure why. He just felt impatient to be off. "Everybody be ready to move out when he gets back," he commanded. He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. He paced around nervously. He had the urge to ask how long he'd been gone but considered the matter a bit too delicate. It did seem like he'd been gone a long time.

* * *

Ortiz walked back toward camp. It was a beautiful morning and he was in a great mood. He had a collapsible latrine shovel with the handle strung through a roll of toilet paper over his shoulder. He sang a song from an old cartoon. He was happy and at peace with the world and everything in it until he rounded a curve in the game trail he'd used for a path.

There, standing on top of the hill that was between him and the camp was the largest goat he'd ever seen. It was the size of a small horse. It glowered at him with angry pink eyes. They stared at each other for a long minute then it lowered its head and ran down the hill toward him at top speed.

He had no weapon except the shovel. He grabbed its handle like a baseball bat and waited to do battle with the beast. When it got close enough he struck the goat with all his might. The shovel bent on the goat's curved horns. It tossed it's head furiously. The shovel went flying out of his hands trailing a tail of toilet paper like a kite.

The goat was even madder now. It made a sound that was more like a bellow than a bleat. Ortiz hollered too and started running for all he was worth. He was always a fast runner and prayed he could outdistance this lumbering beast. But the goat was fast too and was hot on his heels. He swore it was breathing fire but didn't dare turn around to look.

* * *

Back at the campsite the sound of Miguel's scream had them all on their feet.

"What was that?" Ford demanded.

"Ortiz," Piccolo announced.

Dagwood went crashing through the brush running in the direction of the scream. They all followed. Lucas had not heard the scream because of his headset but went running after them anyway. He caught up with Piccolo. "What's up?"

"Sounds like Ortiz is in trouble."

They found the path and looked around. Ortiz was nowhere in sight. Dagwood found the broken shovel and partially unrolled toilet paper.

Henderson squatted in the path and looked at the dirt. "Tracks lead this way," she said  simply. "Something is chasing him."

"What?" Ford demanded.

"Some kind of large animal judging from the depth of these prints."

Piccolo looked at the tracks in the sand also. "Cloven hooves," he muttered unconsciously blessing himself.

"What?" Lucas laughed.

"The devil has cloven hooves," he said in a hushed voice.

Before anyone could say anything they heard Miguel scream again. Again Dagwood lead the charge. They had trouble keeping up with him.

"Ortiz," Ford called "Where are you?"

* * *

Ortiz didn't hear him. All he heard was the blood pounding in his ears. He swore he could feel the breath of the beast on his back. He finally gave in to the urge to look back. It was a mistake. He ran into the branch of a thorny bush.

"Owwww," he yelped. The thorns stung as they ripped away the flesh on his cheek just below his eye. His hand went to his face. His eyes watered. He stumbled nearly losing his balance but the sound of the beast behind him forced him to catch himself. It was this misstep, however, that allowed him to spot the banyan tree. As a child he'd been branded a monkey for his ability to scoot up every one of the massive trees left within running distance of his home. He'd lost none of his skill. He leapt and scurried up the tree scarcely seconds before the furious beast closed in on him.

It smashed into the venerable old trunk with such a resounding thud that Ortiz was nearly knocked from his perch. Fear for his life gave him the strength to cling to the branch he'd wrapped himself around. The huge buck continued to slam into the tree.

***

Captain Bridger was sitting on the bridge of the new seaQuest enjoying the peace and quiet. It was the first he'd had since this hectic tour began. He had to admit he was impressed with the new design changes in the boat in general and the bridge in particular. Everything was running like clockwork. It was running so smoothly, in fact, that he found himself becoming a little bored. He got up and walked around. He approached Communications. As usual, O'Neill had everything well in hand. "Anything of interest happening ?" he asked conversationally.

O'Neill was not quite at ease having a casual conversation with the captain and grasped for something official to report. "Everything is pretty quiet. Global Weather Net reports the tropical depression off the west coast of Africa has been upgraded to a tropical storm and the uh Marlins have been eliminated from the playoffs."

"Lucas will be disappointed," Bridger laughed. The kid was always wearing the team's shirts but he had never actually heard him discuss baseball with any interest. While Lucas certainly could be a pain in the butt, he had to admit, the boat was almost too quiet without him. It  was refreshing to see the world from the fresh prospective of a seventeen year old. Things that had gone stale for him were new to Lucas and his excitement was contagious. But Lucas had a lot to learn about people and the world and this experience of roughing it would be good for him. He needed to be away from the electronic world he had made for himself and learn about life.Having a genius IQ was no substitute for experience when it came to life skills.

It would be good for all of them. A few days ago he had dropped off two groups of  individuals. He hoped to pick up a team at the end of the week. Still there was this nagging feeling he had that he was pushing his chicks from the nest too soon. No it wasn't too soon. They all had to learn to fly. He suddenly pictured himself as Horton sitting on his egg. He stopped himself before he could laugh out loud. He didn't want his bridge crew to think the old man was senile. Old man! He sure felt like an old man this tour. He looked around at all the young faces that surrounded him. 'Hope they all have their second teeth,' he thought dourly.

He was not completely surprised to see Doctor Smith come onto the bridge. He liked the young doctor but couldn't help comparing her with Kristin. Both were certainly excellent doctors but apart from that were very different people. Kristin was a hard scientist, as he was. Wendy dabbled in parapsychology -- more than dabbled in it. He felt a little nervous about that, though he had been told he had tendencies in that direction himself. He shook the thought away. He was not interested in occult sciences and found the terms mutually exclusive. She was bright and friendly and spoke to many people on the bridge by name. He didn't know some of these people yet. She was also decidedly unmilitary. It was the prerogative of the medical branch as to whether or not they would wear a military uniform. Wendy chose not to. Kristin was almost more military than she was. Wendy's mother was certainly military. It was unnerving to have someone on his boat  whose mother he had dated. It also served to remind him of his age -- something he chose not to think about. Particularly since he found himself attracted to the doctor. No, he assured himself he was merely missing Kristin. He'd spent some real quality time with her on his leave. Something they never could have done if they were still serving together. Still, he missed her like hell. She was grounded and kept him grounded. This new doctor had her head in the clouds most of the time. The crew liked her, though. She was helping everyone ease into this tour, both the newcomers and the crew that was returning. She was a people person and this boat needed that. He smiled as she walked up to him.

"Good morning , Captain," she smiled warmly.

"Doctor," he nodded officially. Why was he so on his guard? He didn't buy into that antispyer hysteria that surfaced against psychics every now and again. He knew she could feel it but she must have been used to it because she did not react.

"Kind of quiet around here without Lucas," she commented.

Was that her own thought or was she picking up his?

She looked at him a minute. "Honest, Captain. I don't bite and I promise not to fly around on my broom except on Halloween night."

"What?" He was both startled and embarrassed.

She laughed. She had a mischievous sense of humor. It was not the dry wit of Kristin Westphalen. She was her own person and the quicker he realized that the better off he would be, he decided.

"On Halloween, I guess we can make an exception," he said somberly causing her to do a double take. Then she realized he was kidding. Maybe humor was something they could use to build a relationship on. A professional relationship he corrected himself. "Everything in Medbay to your satisfaction?"

"Yes, I, " she began but suddenly her eyes got big and she became very pale.

"What's the matter?" he jumped to his feet and took her elbow. She looked, for all the world, like she was about to faint.

"I'm alright," she was beginning to recover but still looked a little weak.

She looked very concerned about something but he somehow doubted it was her own symptoms. He sensed it was something else. Something outside herself. Sensed? Now he sounded like the Occultist. "What is it?" he demanded.

"It's -uh - Ortiz," she almost sounded puzzled.

"Ortiz?" O'Neill spun around in his seat. He had been trying not to eavesdrop on the Captain and the Doctor. The doctor, however, sounded very worried when she spoke his friend's name.

"He's -uh- he's very frightened. He's running from something. I'm getting flashes of things but I'm afraid he's thinking in Spanish and I don't understand it."

"Say it out loud. I can interpret," O'Neill said forcefully.

Bridger had never seen O'Neill take initiative this way. "Come here," he commanded the younger man.

O'Neill threw his headset on the console and got up and joined the Captain and the Doctor. To his surprise the Doctor did not repeat the word she was hearing in her head. She took both of his hands in hers. He was startled to hear Ortiz' voice suddenly in his own head. He'd never had an experience exactly like this one. He'd had a similar one when Darwin was sick but then it was just vague impressions nothing as strong as this. It took him a minute to remember he was supposed to be interpreting the language for them, "Ah, damn beast. Get away from me." The words were coming in such a confused excitement that he could barely keep up. "Um Big. Friggin' big. Oh excuse me."

"Go ahead, O'Neill," Bridger urged, "What's big?"

"I don't know, sir. He keeps calling it a beast," O'Neill was frustrated. He wasn't really getting pictures. He was just hearing words. He could tell by his friend's voice that he was really afraid of whatever it was. Plots from bad science fiction movies jumped into his head. He visualized giant crabs and crocodiles.

"That island is supposed to be uninhabited!" Bridger exclaimed.

"Something is chasing him," Wendy insisted. She concentrated harder then suddenly she threw her head to one side and grabbed her cheek.

O'Neill's eyes were also closed in concentration. "OWWW," he had managed to filter out all of Ortiz' expletives which left him little to interpret for the Captain.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Bridger demanded of them both.

"He - uh - he ran into a branch and cut his cheek but now he sees a tree. He's climbing it. He feels safer now," Wendy explained.

"Goat?" O'Neill sounded unsure. "It was a goat?"

The entire bridge crew had been holding their collective breath since the drama began to unfold. Now they began to laugh. Bridger found himself smiling, too.

"It's a really big goat." Wendy tried to defend Ortiz. She always felt close to people with whom she'd been psychically connected.

"Brody's team's a shoe in," someone commented.

Bridger knew people were betting on this contest. He could almost feel the odds changing against Ford's team.

***

Just then Dagwood broke through the underbrush. He sized up the situation instantly. He whipped off the heavy leather belt he wore. He snapped it in the air loudly. This distracted the goat's attention from the tree it was battering.

Dagwood approached the goat growling loudly and snapping the belt in the air nosily. The goat turned and faced Dagwood a minute but the fierceness in the big man's eyes was stronger than that of the goat. The animal turned tail and ran away.

When it was gone the others dared breathe.

"Say, Ortiz, whatcha doin' up that tree? Bird watchin'?" Piccolo teased.

"Shut up, Tony," Ortiz snarled. He had also just gotten his breath back.

"That's enough, Piccolo." Ford stepped in to prevent a fight.

"Sure thing, Commander. I wouldn't want to get his goat," Piccolo and Lucas fell all over each other laughing.

"You can have him," Ortiz said with disgust as he climbed down from the tree. He didn't want to admit it but his knees were still shaking. He'd been really scared even thought it seemed ridiculous now.

"Are you hurt, Miguel? You're bleeding." Dagwood asked sincerely, reaching up to help him down.

"Are you alright, Ortiz?" Ford asked seriously.

"I'm fine. It's just a scratch," he grinned as he jumped down from the tree.

He stumbled when he hit the ground and Dagwood and Henderson each grabbed one of  his arms.

"Sorry."

"Let me see that, Miguel," Henderson said looking at his cut. "That's awfully close to your eye."

Dagwood handed him a handkerchief. "Did it bite you?" he asked.

"No. I ran into a branch," he admitted

"I didn't know goats could get that big," Ford commented

"Me either," Ortiz wholeheartedly agreed.

"Was it really a goat? Piccolo thought it was the devil," Lucas laughed

"So did I," Ortiz stated unable to stop himself from shuddering.

"Well, let's get back to the campsite. We'd better get going," Ford commanded.

When they got back to the campsite Henderson wanted to put antiseptic on his cut but Ortiz would have no part of it. Within an hour they were underway.

Ortiz acted like nothing had happened but secretly he was glad to put as much distance as possible between himself and that goat. He buried the fear he had felt and tried to tell himself it was as funny as Lucas and Piccolo insisted it was. He decided he'd rather just forget about it. He tried to concentrate on the mission. He wanted the bridge crew to beat the security team in this challenge.

***

Brody had miscalculated the amount of time that the climb would take. The lack of hand and toe holds had caused them to have to backtrack several times. He and Torres were getting both sun and wind burned and they had to find a ledge on which to spent the night when it became too dark to read the rock. Brody tried to make light of the situation but Torres was tightlipped. Brody could tell he didn't care to socialize with the jerk that got him into this mess. It probably had been stupid, Brody had to admit to himself. How was he supposed to show his leadership skills to his team when half of them were under Donner's leadership and only one guy was with him? The one guy who was not impressed with rock climbing and had done it as a kid and had even been a guide during the summers in high school. Well he was getting to know Torres a little, he told himself. He knew him well enough to know he did not hold his new lieutenant in very high regards, at the moment. He was sure Ford had not made such a stupid mistake because Ford was not as impulsive as he was. Ford, also didn't really seem to care what those in his command thought of him. Brody pretended otherwise, and even acted obnoxious at times, but he really did want to be liked.

***

It wasn't too long into the day's walk that Piccolo began to tease Ortiz about being  frightened by a goat.

"I seem to remember you being terrified of an iguana," Ortiz snarled back at him.

"Well, they are creepy and serve no useful purpose. At least you can milk a goat."

"You couldn't have milked that one." Henderson tried to put a stop to the argument.

"Why? Because it was so big?" Picccolo turned his teasing to her now.

"No. Because it was a male," she said smugly. Ortiz laughed at him now.

"I knew that," Piccolo insisted though it was clear to everyone that that had not occurred to him.

Ford was in the lead and ignored their banter. Lucas followed the three of them and listened to his headset once more putting up a wall between him and the others. Dagwood brought up the rear and moved with ease despite his heavy load.

By mid afternoon Ortiz no longer joined in the lively conversation that Piccolo and Henderson were carrying on. He dropped back a little. He was beginning to feel tired and even cold. Walking became more of an effort. He said nothing but even Lucas passed him. By the time they stopped for the night he had a pounding headache. He assumed it would go away after he ate but when it persisted he had to break down and ask Henderson for some aspirin from the medkit.

"What's wrong?" She was concerned.

"Nothing. Just a little headache." He looked around avoiding her glance. "Guess I'm not used to all this healthy fresh air," he joked, but involuntarily shivered.

"Are you cold?" She couldn't believe it. Even after sunset it was well over eighty degrees.

"Little," he admitted with a shrug.

"Are you alright?" She put her hand on his forehead before he could pull away. "Miguel, you feel warm!"

"No I don't. I feel cold." He still tried to make light of it.

"Come over here by the lantern. Let me take a look at that wound."

"Henderson," he complained "It's nothing. I told you that this morning."

"Commander," Henderson called Ford over.

"Henderson!" Ortiz was disgusted.

"What is it?" Ford joined them.

"Look at this wound. It's probably infected."

"Lot of swelling," Ford agreed but medical matters were a little out of his field.

"Look, all I wanted was an aspirin," Ortiz began.

"He has a headache and his head feels hot." She pressed her palm to his brow again.

"I'm alright," he insisted

"You'd better let her treat that cut," Ford stated.

"It's just a scratch," Ortiz yelled angrily.

"Nevertheless, it needs treatment. Do you know how many bacteria flourish in a tropical climate like this?" She was just as forceful as she led him over to the pole lantern.

"Oh for...." he muttered as she sat him down. He switched languages but continued to complain. The antiseptic really stung. His anger now kept him from shivering. To his way of thinking, she added insult to injury by bandaging the wound.

"That should keep it clean." She finally seemed satisfied with her work.

"He looks like a damned pirate," Piccolo laughed.

Ortiz got up. He angrily pushed by him and left.

"What's with him?" Piccolo asked but was ignored.

"Miguel, what about your headache?" she called after him.

He unrolled his bedroll and got into it. He did not answer.

"What's the matter with Miguel?" Dagwood asked.

"He says he has a headache." Henderson sounded worried.

"Maybe he will feel better after a good night's sleep," Dagwood suggested hopefully.

"Hope so," Ford said thoughtfully. Ortiz was his best hope on this expedition. If he'd gotten himself an infection that could take him down, what hope was there of beating Brody? Why hadn't he listened to Henderson when she wanted to treat that cut right after it happened?

***

The next morning Ortiz seemed impatient to get started. He wasn't even interested in taking time for breakfast.

"What's the hurry, Ortiz? You afraid that goat's still after you?" Piccolo teased. It was meant to be a good natured joke but it earned him a surly reply and a shove. Luckily Piccolo wasn't inclined to fight but he and Lucas exchanged surprised looks.

"He's getting as moody as they are," Ford complained to Henderson.

"I hope it's just a mood," Henderson returned. She hadn't known Ortiz as long as Ford had, but this did not seem like his normal behavior to her.

The terrain became a little more rugged here. Soon all but Dagwood were sweating and panting under their loads. Piccolo complained endlessly and it played on everyone's nerves.

When they stopped for lunch Ford gave them a pep talk. He thought it was better if their moral was up. He had heard all the complaining he wanted to hear. Ortiz had not been complaining. In fact, he'd said almost nothing since they broke camp that morning. He sat slightly apart from the group on a flat rock. He leaned over and rested his head in his hands. Ford approached him. He did not look up. Warning bells were going off in Ford's head. He tried to ignore them.

"Sure is hot," he commented by way of conversation. Most of them wore only tank tops now but Ortiz was still in his jacket.

"Guess," he shrugged wearily.

"Are you alright?" Ford was concerned

"Sure." He was not very convincing.

"You look kinda pale," Ford went on.

Ortiz took a deep breath, "I'm Okay." The weakness in his voice betrayed him.

"You'd better eat something," Ford suggested.

"Naw. I'm not hungry."

"Level with me, Ortiz. Are you ill?" Ford was insistent.

"No," he lied and shivered.

"My God, you can't be cold." He reached over and put the backs of his fingers to Ortiz' cheek. His skin felt hot but he was not sweating at all. Ortiz winced at his touch.

"Oh Hell! --Henderson!" he called. There was panic in his voice.

They all came running.

"What's wrong?" Lucas demanded for all of them.

"Is your headache back?" Henderson asked sympathetically.

"No. I'm Okay." Ortiz tried to get up and walk away. He stumbled. Dagwood grabbed his arm and kept him from falling.

"Miguel!" Henderson's eyes were wide as saucers.

"Dizzy," he mumbled to no one in particular.

Henderson came back to her senses immediately. "Lay him down," she commanded. "Get some water."

Lucas ran to obey.

"Help me get this jacket off him. He's way overheated."

"No c-cold."

"He can't be cold," Tony stated emphatically.

"Chills and fever," Henderson explained as she and Dagwood struggled to get Miguel's jacket off of him.

"Is this from the infection?" Ford asked. He felt totally out of his element.

"Could be or---"

"Or?" Piccolo prodded.

"Or that plant he got cut by could have been poisonous." She pulled no punches.

"Poisonous?!" Lucas gasped as he returned with the water.

She didn't answer. She opened up the canteen and held it to his lips, "Here. Drink, Miguel."

"I don't want it," he gasped

"Well, you need it. You're dehydrated." She was firm.

Dagwood sat him up and she forced him to take some of the water.

"Is he all right?" Ford asked her quietly after Ortiz finally pushed her hand aside.

"No," she was blunt, "he's not all right. He's in no condition to traipse around these jungle trails!"

They weren't exactly jungle trails although they were certainly hot enough to be. They were taking the hilly terrain that shirkted the jungle area -- at Henderson's suggestion. She had cited that they were less apt to run into quick sand on the high ground. He had agreed even though the route was a little less direct. He also agreed with her assessment of Ortiz. "I know. I know. But there's no place to set up camp around here." There didn't look to be a flat space for miles.

"Commander, he's too weak to go on. He surely can't walk," Henderson stated.

"I can carry him," Dagwood volunteered.

"You already have a full load," Ford disagreed

"I can do it," Dagwood insisted quietly.

"We can divide up some of the stuff he's carrying among the rest of us," Henderson said.

"I can take Ortiz' pack," Ford decided.

When they finally got underway, Ortiz was not very happy with the arrangement but he was too weak to argue.

They stopped for a rest in a few hours.

"How's Miguel?" Henderson asked.

"He's asleep. He feels real hot," Dagwood reported.

"We've got to cool him down," Henderson told them. She washed his face then crushed an aspirin into a paste.

"He's not gonna take that," Piccolo insisted.

"Well, what can we do. He can't swallow a pill."

"It's gonna taste awful. Here." He handed her some of his prize chocolate, "Crush this in with it. I'll con him into taking it."

When the mixture was ready Piccolo took it. "Hey, Miguel, wake up." He shook him.

"Mmmm. Lemme sleep."

"Shhh. Don't say anything. I got somethin' for ya."

"What?" Curiosity forced him to open his eyes partway.

"Candy. Open up before anyone notices."

Miguel obeyed.

"Isn't that good?" Tony asked.

"Mmmmmm," he nodded off once he'd swallowed the chocolate.

"How did you know he'd take it?" Lucas asked

"Everybody likes chocolate. I told you it was a necessity of life."

***

Brody was within 20 ft of the top of the cliff. "The end's in sight," he called down to Torres encouragingly. "We'll be able to celebrate soon."

"Will there be dancing girls?" Torres asked hopefully.

"I'll see what I can do," Brody promised with a laugh. At least, Torres was speaking to him again. He reached up and pulled himself up towards a small ledge that jutted out 4 ft above his head. He had to admit it. His muscles were starting to really scream in protest. He imagined Torres felt the same way. Brody hadn't been climbing in over six months. It was nearly two years for Torres. He'd even gotten the shakes twice but had managed to hide it from his climbing partner. He looked up to where he could just see the top. It was a welcome sight. He kept his eyes on the prize as he forced his tired arms to carry his weight up onto the cliff.

He shouldn't have been looking at the top of the cliff. He should have been looking at the ledge he was heading onto. He might have noticed the signs of habitation. He might have seen the droppings and discarded feathers. In a few months these rocks would be alive with migratory birds who flew in to nest and winter. But this ledge was already occupied by an early arrival who was willing to defend her choice spot against all comers.

Brody's head and shoulders had just cleared the ledge and he was adjusting his hold to pull himself up onto it. He was momentarily out of balance. He was momentarily vulnerable. The bird sensed her chance and dove beak first at his unprotected face and eyes. His reflexes were faster than his brain and he put his arms up to defend himself. The bird's onslaught was relentless and he was driven backwards. He lost his balance and fell into empty space. He had the presence of mind to holler "FALLING" so that Torres could prepare himself for the extra weight that was about to assail him.

Torres leaned into the rockface to get as much leverage as he could as Brody went sailing past him. It took all his strength to hold on. He could do nothing to check Brody's fall.

Brody had never fallen more than a few feet before and he'd never lost contact with the mountain. It had cost him cuts and scrapes and clothing but he knew this would be much worse. He was tied off but with every foot he fell he picked up momentum. Would the ropes hold? Would it be too much for Torres? Would he drop him -- or worse yet, fall with him? Wilkinson's words about splattered brains came back to haunt him. SEALs would have climbed with him without question but he was the only SEAL here and he was the one that had made the stupid mistake.

He was almost in free fall and absently wondered how far he was from the ground. He was falling backwards so he couldn't see the ground. He could see the sky and every hard fought for foot he'd climbed today as they shot away from him. He was about to tell Torres to cut him loose when his fall stopped with a horrible suddenness that knocked the wind from his lungs and the consciousness from his body.

***

They tricked Ortiz into the chocolated aspirin again when they stopped for the night but they couldn't get him to eat anything.

He became delirious during the night. Ford had been on watch when he started to roll around and moan. He ran to him. Dagwood also woke up.

"Easy, Miguel," Ford said gently forcing him to lay back down. Ford found himself feeling like the big brother. Miguel looked at him but there was no recognition in his dark eyes. Ford was able to overpower him easily. Ortiz' lack of strength was unnerving. Finally he gave up struggling and slipped back to sleep.

"Miguel is very sick, isn't he?" Dagwood asked seriously.

"Yes, Dagwood, he is," Ford saw no point in sugarcoating the situation.

"What's the matter with him?"

"We don't know."

"Henderson said he might be poisoned."

"Yes, he might be."

"Is he going to die?" Dagwood asked piteously.

That was the question Ford didn't want to hear. It was the situation he didn't want to think about. "I sure hope not." He tried to make his voice sound cool and confident. He failed miserably.

Lucas had been lying awake listening. He closed his eyes tight against tears of anger. This whole damn thing had been a nightmare and now Ortiz might die! He'd never really known anybody that died. He was surely never there when it happened. He didn't want to witness such a thing now. Ortiz was only four or five years older than he was. It made him feel vulnerable but mostly it made him angry. Damn that Bridger! This was all his idea. All for a stupid contest. He'd be eighteen this year. A legal adult. When he was he'd spit in all their eyes and tell them to go to Hell! Bridger. His father. The whole damn UEO. He hated them all.

The next morning Henderson worked on Ortiz again. She got him to drink a little and got some more aspirin into him. He was a little more quiet and comfortable as they prepared for the day's trek. He was sleeping peacefully when she stood up and brushed the dirt from her knees.

Ford had been watching the whole thing. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why didn't you become a nurse or a medtech?"

"Why? Because I'm a woman?" she snapped. She was tired and worried and suspicious of his question. The Commander seemed to stereotype people too much.

"No." He was taken aback by her response. "Because you're good at it." He was sincere.

"I'd rather work on machines than people," she admitted.

"Why?"

"Because it's not so rough if you can't fix them." She had to look away and blink away tears. She was only too aware of Ortiz's condition. He was declining and there was almost nothing she could do to stop it.

"Easy," Ford put his hands on her shoulders. "You're doing the best you can. More than any of the rest of us can do." He was encouraging.

"Well, sometimes your best isn't good enough." She still tried to avoid eye contact with him but found she could not. He was offering her his strength and she needed it.

"He's sleeping peacefully and his fever is down," Ford still tried to be encouraging.

"That's because it's morning," she told him, "Fevers always shoot up in the afternoon. All this moving around can't be good for him."

"Would it be better if we stayed here?"

"And let Lt Brody beat us to the beach?"

"I don't care about that!" he flared angrily.

"But when we landed it was all any of you could talk about," she reminded him.

"That was a million years ago," he said thoughtfully. He regretted his earlier behavior and placed the blame for this mess squarely on his own shoulders. "All I care about now is getting him back to seaQuest and medical help."

"I agree," she said, "I think now it's more important than ever that we hurry. I'm not sure what to do for him. I'm not even sure what's wrong with him."

"Might this be fatal?" he hardly dared ask.

"Yes," she said simply.

"Damn!" he swore. "It's my fault we're stuck out here with no way to get help. All for a stupid contest! How could I have let things get so out of hand?" He admitted it to himself as well as her.

"Because you're a man," Henderson smiled.

He sighed, "You're right. I sure hope Brody is having better luck than we are."

***

Torres had tried his best to prepare for it but the harness he wore wrenched his kidneys when Brody finally stopped. The force nearly yanked him off the rock he clung to but the tie downs held. At first all he could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears as his blood pressure shot up. The pain in his lower back and in every muscle now that he had relaxed them made colors explode behind his tightly shut eyelids. Part of him wanted to refuse to believe this had happened but part of him knew he had to pull himself together and try to find Brody. Something had stopped his fall. The only thing it could have been was solid rock.

He got his breathing under control and forced himself to open his eyes. He cursed the fact that McCormick wasn't here. He was the medic. If they had all been here they might have been able to hold him -- to stop him from what had probably killed him. He hoped he was killed on impact rather than suffering. Nothing could impart suffering like an angry rock. Torres had been born in Colorado and had spent time among the Natives there. He'd learned to climb from them and he'd learned to respect the rock from them. He adjusted his position but he still could not see Brody. He tried calling him but as he expected he heard only his own voice echoing back to him.

Slowly, carefully he worked his way back down the rockface. It took him twenty minutes before he was in a position to see where Brody had ended up. He was on a ledge not unlike the one they had spent the previous night on. He was laying deathly still but he could see no blood from his vantage point. As quickly as was safe he moved closer.

He forced himself not to hurry. He could not help Brody if he too fell. At last he stepped onto the ledge. He squatted next to Brody and tentatively checked for a neck pulse. To his surprise he found one. What surprised him even more was that Brody appeared to be coming around.

"Lie still, Lieutenant," he warned as he gently checked him over in search of injury.

"Watch that first step," Brody quipped but his voice was very weak.

"It's a dilly," Torres finished for him. He had to admit the Lieutenant was taking this a lot better than he would have.

"What's the verdict?" Brody finally asked but talking winded him.

"Well somehow you didn't seem to really break many bones. You must have been smart enough not to tense up."

"I don't think I was smart enough to tense up," Brody admitted. "I couldn't make myself believe it was really happening." He tried to move but realized right away it was a mistake.

"Hey," Torres objected, "Don't move. The dummies we trained on never moved."

"I'm afraid some of us dummies do move."

"Well don't. You'll only make yourself worse."

Brody thought the only way he could feel worse was if his stupidity had caused Torres to fall, too.

The only major injury Torres could find was a broken leg. His equipment had protected most of him but he had landed wrong. He knew Brody was in pain although he did not complain.

The only thing he had to splint his leg to was his other leg. There was no way Brody was climbing out of there -- either up or down. He couldn't carry him out by himself. He'd have to leave him and go find the other guys. They both knew it but neither wanted to say it. Finally Brody broached the subject. He made it an order. He didn't want it to have been Torres' decision in case he was dead when the other man got back with help.

Torres secured him to the ledge. He put food, water and blankets within easy reach. He knew it could well be over 24 hours before he found the other guys and returned. He knew an injured man might not survive that long.

"Watch out for that bird," Brody smiled

"I know he's there now. I'll go around him. I'll be as quick as I can, Lt," He promised.

"I'll be here when you get back."

"See that you are," Torres said it a little more forcefully than he intended but Brody pretended not to notice. "Via con Dios, Lt."

"You too, Rick," Brody remembered his first name.

Torres turned away and climbed. When he was out of Brody's sight he discarded a lot of his safety equipment because it would slow him down and Brody did not have a lot of time. Sure, he was kind of a peacock but no one deserved to die alone on a rock ledge.

***

"Captain," O'Neill said urgently.

"Yes, Lt."

"Apparently that tropical storm has blown up quickly into a full fledged category four hurricane. We are being ordered to divert from our present course to help evacuate some oil rigs and a disabled cruise ship."

Part of Bridger wanted to rage. People come out onto the ocean of their own free will and then the minute there's the first sign of trouble the military has to jump in and pull their asses out of the fire. That thought wasn't like him. He knew his real concern was that diverting would mean they would miss the scheduled rendez vous with his people on the island. As part of the conditions of the contest they had no communications equipment. He had no way to let them know that seaQuest would be late. Still, they had plenty of rations and there was fresh water on the island. They would just have to "survive" a little longer. He looked over O'Neill's shoulder at the notes he'd scribbled down. The Hurricane's name was Lucas.

"Acknowledge the orders, Lt." he said but he suddenly had a very uneasy feeling. Feeling. This psychic stuff was contagious, he scoffed. He looked at O'Neill. He seemed to be experiencing the same thing.

***

Ford's group faced a day of hard travel but no one complained. They realized that the only real help for Ortiz lay on the seaQuest. The sooner they got to the rendez vous point the sooner  he would get help. Ortiz had been delirious on and off for most of the day.

Both Ford and Henderson had agonized about moving him but in the end there seemed to be little real choice.

With determination they pressed on. Ford was in the lead and hacked the last bit of jungle growth away making a path clear enough for the others to follow. He wiped the sweat off his face with the back of his hand and laid eyes on the rendez vous point. It was a beach that faced onto a deep cove.

Ortiz seemed to be sleeping more peacefully. They made camp. There was no sign of Brody but thoughts of the contest were the furthest thing from any one's mind.

Since it was so hot, Lucas, Piccolo and Dagwood went to cool off in the surf. Henderson fussed with Ortiz making sure he was well shaded and as comfortable as possible.

"How is he?" Ford asked bringing her a drink.

She accepted it gratefully. "Well," she mused, "for the first time today he's relatively cool and he seems to be sleeping peacefully."

"All that chocolate aspirin seems to be helping, then?" Ford smiled. He felt relieved. The seaQuest could be here in the morning and Ortiz did seem better.

"I guess so."

"Congratulations," he told her.

"You too."

"Me? I didn't do anything."

"You see any sign of Brody around here anywhere?"

"No. I forgot all about that."

"Well, you won."

"How about that?"

"You don't sound very happy."

"It just doesn't seem all that important any more. You know, I gotta admit, when we started I figured Ortiz and I were going to have to carry the rest of you. I mean Lucas and Piccolo were at each others throats. And Dagwood.-- he had no training of any kind and --"

"And I was a woman?" she guessed.

"Yes." He admitted with shame. "And also I kind of thought you were -- uh -- inexperienced and uh --"

"Immature," she finished for him.

"Well, yes. I'm surprised you didn't try to bring that little bear."

"It's a dog and who says I didn't?"

"You didn't?!"

"I did."

"Well I don't care about that. What I'm trying to say is - I was wrong. Wrong about everything. Wrong about how important it was to beat Brody. Wrong about all you guys -- especially you. Nobody could have done a better job. We might have gotten off to a bad start on this tour and I'd like to apologize."

She knew how hard it was for a person like him in a position like he was in to make this confession to an underling. " I accept you apology. So does Addison," she smiled.

"Addison? Oh the bear -uh- dog."

Dagwood, Lucas and Piccolo returned from their swim. "How's Miguel?" Dagwood asked.

"He seems a little better," Henderson was happy to report.

"That's good," Dagwood said seriously but he still seemed worried.

Henderson picked up on it. "What's wrong, Dagwood?"

"I don't know. The air doesn't smell right and it's too quiet."

Henderson started to say something to alleviate his fears but Piccolo spoke up.

"No, the big guy's right. The ocean feels wrong, too."

"Cut it out, guys," Lucas warned. There was no scientific reason for what they were saying. Science was the only thing Lucas ever really could put his faith in.

"You said it was eerie too," Piccolo reminded him. "Like the calm before the storm."

"Storm?" Ford perked up his ears.

"Guys," Henderson said kindly, "The sky is bright blue and there isn't a cloud in sight."

"Yeah, but there was a tropical depression forming just before we left." Ever diligent, Ford had checked the long range weather forecasts.

"You mean it could be heading this way?" Henderson asked.

"It wouldn't have had the strength to get this far this fast unless..."

"Unless what?" Henderson was beginning to feel nervous.

"Unless it became a hurricane," he finished quietly.

"Hurricane!" Piccolo couldn't believe it. "How the hell did Bridger arrange that?"

"What do we do?" Henderson asked. She was from Wyoming. They did not have hurricanes in Wyoming.

"This is where they will pick us up. I guess we just sit tight," Ford decided.

***

Torres had run till he ran out of light. He found the other group just after they had made camp for the night. McCormick insisted he eat while the others broke camp. They made it back to the top of the cliff a few hours before dawn. Donner would not allow anyone to attempt the descent until they had light.

Brody had had a rough night. He fought off chills, thirst and delirium. The darkness had seemed endless and he wondered if his men would bother to come looking for him. Part of him told himself that was what he deserved but a bigger part of him was scared that he would be deserted to die here alone. He hated being alone. He felt himself losing touch with reality on several occasions but he used the pain in his leg to help keep himself focused. He didn't dare sleep. He kept fighting. It was what he knew how to do. Sleep finally overtook him as the light began to return to his world.

Brody looked dead as Torres and McCormick climbed onto the ledge.

"Lieutenant?" Mac said tentatively checking for a neck pulse.

McCormick's hand felt cold and caused him to startle awake.

"Easy, Lieutenant." Torres cautioned gently placing his hand on Brody's belly to keep him from rolling off the ledge.

"You came back," Brody croaked with disbelief.

"Course, I came back," Torres joked. "I didn't want to have to explain to the Captain that I had misplaced you. I'm always in Dutch for losing equipment."

Brody smiled weakly. Torres could be somewhat absentminded.

"Take a drink, Lieutenant," Mac held a water bottle to his cracked lips, "You look dry."

Brody obeyed but it was an extreme effort. Mac checked his leg. "There's not too much I can do for you till we get you topside. I'm going to give you a shot of morphine to make the trip a little easier on you."

"Got myself into a real mess, didn't I?" Brody admitted. "Must have been that course I took in Officer Stupidity back at the academy. It was one of my better grades too," he mused.

Mac and Torres exchanged glances. They weren't sure if he was joking or delirious. They had never heard an officer belittle himself or make fun of the precious academy before. His grin told them he was joking.

"You're alright, Brody," Mac laughed. Any officer that could admit to a mistake instead of blaming it on the enlisted men was worth something in his book. He gave Brody the shot and they bundled him up for the trip up the mountain. It hadn't kicked in by the time they began the climb. They knew Brody was in a lot of pain but he never complained.

Brody's leg was so sore and sensitive that he could feel the rabbit's foot in his pocket. He wasn't sure if it had failed him by letting him fall or worked overtime by having him survive the fall. Either way he knew he'd need all the luck it could give him till he reached seaQuest and medical help. He gritted his teeth and bit back the scream that wanted to come. He had to be strong in front of the men.

All three of them were sweating profusely by the time they reached the top. "You're in charge, Donner," Brody gasped as he drifted off to sleep. Donner had the map and the skill to get the others to the rendez vous point. He knew his men would be alright and he couldn't keep his eyes opened another minute. The fleeting thought that Ford would beat him crossed his mind but seemed of no importance.

Donner and the others had made a stretcher out of bamboo poles and tent fabric. They eased him into it. Although they had walked all night to get here Donner thought it best to get him to the rendezvous area as soon as possible. There was always the chance seaQuest would get there early and they could get him medical attention all the sooner. They took turns carrying the stretcher and walked all day and all night as fast as they dared. The morphine wore off but the cocky Lieutnenat never complained. That and his admission of having made a mistake served to actually earn the respect of these men.

***

Ford's team had spent an uneventful night on the beach. Tony had tricked Ortiz into taking more choclated aspirin but he could not be persuaded to eat. He seemed less feverish but was far from coherent. If he spoke at all it was in Spanish. He generally tuned them out and slept a great deal.

The dawn seemed to promise a beautiful day but Tony and Dagwood's insistence that there was something wrong began to sway the others.

Around noon Brody's team came into the clearing. Brody was conscious but seemed very pale and shocky. Pain was etched into his face but he did not complain. Henderson had also been issued a vile of morphine and she and Mac administered it to him. When the pain began to be relieved he fell into a deep sleep.

They had made a crude shelter of bamboo and palm fronds to keep Ortiz shaded. They moved the Lt to the shelter as well.

"He looks bad," Ford commented softly.

"He'll make it," Donner snapped. His exhaustion causing him to momentarily forget that Ford was his XO. "He's one tough nut."

Ford and Henderson exchanged looks. Donner's voice held a respect for Brody that had not been there when they began this mission.

Donner suddenly remembered who he was addressing. "Sorry, sir. Guess I'm tired."

"Why don't you get some rest? I'll take over now." Ford took the burden of command from him.

"Aye, sir." Donner went and stretched out under some trees. Wilkinson, Torres and Adams had joined Lucas, Tony and Dagwood in cooling off in the surf. McCormick checked on his patient one more time.

"What happened to Ortiz?" McCormick asked

"He got cut on a piece of brush. We're not sure if it's just an infection or some kind of poisoning," Henderson admitted miserably.

McCormick went over to Ortiz and peeled his eyelid back. "He looks a little jaundiced," he commented.

"My God! You're not thinking Yellow Fever are you?" Ford almost sounded panicky.

"We've all been inoculated against anything like that," Mac tried not to laugh at him. "No, I'd say this was a reaction to a toxin. There are poisonous plants all over this island."

"I wanted to treat him right away when it happened but he refused," Henderson said.

"Never let them refuse," McCormick told her. "When you're the field medic you're in charge. I don't care if Bridger himself gets a blister on his butt -- it's your business. You treat it."

"Yes sir," she said miserably.

"Don't 'sir' me," he teased, "You're the officer, Ensign."

"I won't let it happen again," she vowed.

"Pull rank if you have to. Sometimes that's the only thing us gobs understand."

"I'll remember that," she smiled

"Don't let this one bat his eyes at you and talk you out of it. With him all you got to do is threaten him with an injection and he'll do whatever you want."

Henderson would definitely remember that. She marveled at how well McCormick knew the men. He'd been a medic for quite a while as well as a security man. She decided she would have to be as forceful as he was when it came to injuries. She knew that he thought that Ortiz had flirted his way out of treatment. That tactic would have never worked with her. She could see through the Romeos a mile away -- still she hadn't treated him when she had wanted to. She was going to listen to her gut feelings more.

"If he was in Medbay they would have shot his rump full of antibiotic but there really wasn't all that much you could have done for him," McCormick checked the wound. "It looks clean. His system just has to flush out the poison."

"He seems a little better," she told him, "but I can't get him to eat."

"Those rations can be pretty hard to take even when you're healthy. He needs real food."

So they set about acquiring some real food. Tony gathered clams. The security men found edible plants. They made a fire on the beach and had clam soup of sorts for lunch. Tony turned out to be an excellent cook. They got both Brody and Ortiz to eat a little. As they sat under the shade canopy conversation turned once more to the possibility of a storm. Brody was dozing but Ortiz seemed to be half listening to them. They were discussing making a more secure shelter or even digging some sort of foxhole as protection from the wind.

Suddenly Ortiz became agitated and argumentative. Since he spoke in Spanish they were at a loss. They called Torres up from the beach and the others followed. Both McCormick and Henderson were trying to keep him still but he ignored them.

"What's he saying?" Ford demanded of Torres.

Torres listened but looked puzzled. "He must be delirious. It doesn't make any sense. He's saying "Go up. Wall of water.'"

"What does he mean?" Henderson asked.

"Sounds like something Darwin would say," Lucas admitted, "But I don't know what he means. "Go up. Wall of water'". Lucas repeated trying to make some sense of it.

"Tell him it will be alright," Ford commanded Torres. "Tell him we're on the beach that's the rendez vous point. seaQuest should be here tomorrow. Everything is fine." Torres tried but seemed unable to reach him.

Ortiz kept saying the words over and over in Spanish desperate to be understood.

"Did you say something about a hurricane?" Brody asked weakly.

"You don't have to worry about that, Lt," Henderson smiled kindly. They did not need there other patient to become upset. They had their hands full with Ortiz.

"Is there a hurricane coming?" Brody persisted "If there is, I know what he's talking about."

"What?" Ford demanded

"The storm surge. We have to get to higher ground."

"This is where seaQuest will pick us up," Ford told him patiently. "You two are in no shape to move."

"We ALL have to move or we'll be drowned. I'm from Florida too. Listen to us. Ortiz and I have been through hurricanes before. The real danger is not the wind but the water. A big storm could whip those breakers up to 30 or 40 foot killers. There would be nothing left of this beach or anything on it." It was exhausting Brody to talk so much.

Ford knew Brody was right about the strength of a storm surge. In his duties on seaQuest he'd been called upon pluck people out of the path of a storm and also to deal the aftemath of such a disaster. He did not underestimate what Brody said. He just wondered where the storm was. Could seaQuest get to them before it hit? Could he gamble that she would? Could he chance moving two injured men away from the spot where help should arrive within hours? Still if the storm hit before seaQuest could get here the whole group was at risk. He would have to weigh the lives of the group agianst the two who would suffer most by being moved. It was a command decision. He'd always thought himself well equipt to make one. It was so simple when you were just dealing with facts and figures. Regulations stated he should hold the ground he'd been assigned and await instructions. That's what the textbooks all said. But this was not a textbook scenario. These were people. People who were trusting him to keep them safe. He couldn't depend on seaQuest arriving in time. He couldn't bet these lives on it. "We'd better move to higher ground. Any suggestions on the best route?"

"It's pretty treacherous the way we came and there's almost no shelter," Donner told Ford. "We should head inland. Put as much distance as possible between us and the sea."

"Gather up what you can easily carry," Ford commanded bowing to the expertise of those that knew these storms better. "Don't take anything you don't need. I want to be ready to move in ten minutes." He and Donner poured over the map.

"According to the map there's an old bunker up here. We checked it out. It once housed some research project. Before that it was some kind of spotter in some hush hush military/espionage operation."

"If the military built it, it was meant to survive bombing. It should survive a hurricane," Ford stated. He committed landmarks on the map to memory and gathered up his pack.

Hot winds were blowing in from the ocean as they left the beach and hacked their way through the jungle once more. The security men had built another stretcher for Ortiz. They took turns with the stretchers and shouldering each others' packs as they made their way toward the bunker. Their progress was maddeningly slow as each foot they gained was at the cost of hacking away at years of stubborn undergrowth. To Ford's amazement there was not one word of complaint from anyone except McCormick. He had cut his hand on a machete and Henderson insisted on treating it right then and there and would not be put off by his insistence that they did not have time.

"I don't believe it, Mac," Adams teased him, "You finally met someone meaner than you are."

Henderson knew it was the left-handed compliment so prevalent among the macho security team so she took it as such and wouldn't let them proceed until the cut had been thoroughly cleaned and bandaged.

"You're too good a student," Mac muttered but she knew he did not really disapprove.

They walked on until it got dark. They were all hot and tired by that time. Even as far inland as they now were they were feeling the winds that were the precursor of the hurricane. The smell of rain was heavy in the muggy air.

Ford was once more consulting the map by the light of a powerful flashlight. "That bunker's got to be close by. I'd like to find it before the rains hit. Wilkerson and Adams, come with me. I want Henderson and McCormick to stay with the patients. Donner, Torres, Piccolo and Dagwood set up a perimeter and secure the area and equipment as best you can."

"What do you want me to do?" Lucas asked. There was nothing flippant or sarcastic in his voice. He truly wanted to help. Since he knew nothing of setting up a military encampment Ford decided to bring him with them. One more flashlight and one more set of eyes could only help in locating the bunker.

"Get a flashlight and come with us."

Lucas looked overjoyed at the prospect but controlled his urge to whoop. The four left camp and headed in the direction the bunker should be. They each played their flashlights around the entire area but nothing even remotely resembling a bunker came to light.

"It's been here long enough to have been completely reclaimed by the jungle." Lucas pointed out. "Just look for a symmetrical shape. That will mean that something manmade is underneath the growth."

That piece of advise narrowed their search quite a bit and soon Adams found a bulk that, while covered with leaves and vines, still had a definite square appearance. Wilkerson hacked through the growth and hit concrete.

"This is it!" Ford was jubilant as a fat raindrop hit him. "There's no point in trying to hack  all this away. Let's just find the entrance and cut our way in there. You two go around that way. Lucas and I will go this way." Ford decided.

The jungle growth was thick. Ford had to give his flashlight to Lucas and man his machete with two hands. Lucas did not have a machete. Ford did not want him cutting himself with it. They had already incurred enough injuries on this trip. The hacking was making his shoulders scream in protest.

"I'll take a turn," Lucas offered.

Ford wanted to laugh. He kept himself in tiptop shape and his muscles were protesting at this unaccustomed task. What could skinny little Lucas hope to accomplish? Still, it was good of him to offer. The brat that had accompanied them from the seaQuest never would have done so.

"That's OK, Lucas. Just keep the light shining over here," he grunted with the effort this was taking.

"But I'm lighter than you and I think------"

Lucas never got to finish his thought. Just then the blade of Ford's machete came in contact with concrete with a resounding smack. The force of it followed his body and caused the thin branches he was standing on to give way. Ford dropped the machete just before he disappeared down a dark hole in the foliage. The branches closed around it immediately leaving no trace of the Commander. Lucas heard him hit with a sickening thud and a scream of pain unlike anything Lucas had ever heard before.

"Commander!" he screamed. He knew he was on solid ground. He laid down on his stomach and inched his way closer to the area where Ford had disappeared. He listened intently and heard the sound of groans. He crawled closer letting the powerful flashlight flood the area before he crawled into it. He found the machete and hacked away enough vegetation to shine the light into the hole. He saw the Commander lying face down on a set of concrete steps that led to a thick steel door. He squirmed through the hole and knelt by Ford.

"I found the door," Ford gasped.

"So you did. Do you think you can get up?"

"No. I don't think so. Can you climb back out and find the others?"

Ford did not look or sound good. Lucas set up one of the flashlights to shine through the foliage so they could easily find him again. "I'll be right back," he promised and shinnied up to the hole he'd cut.

He was out of sight within seconds. Ford tried to breathe deeply to relax but found that painful. He had put his arms out in front of him to break his fall and had landed full force on them. He was sure at least one of them was broken as he's heard the bone break. He was feeling both hot and cold and nauseous when Lucas returned with Adams and Wilkerson. He was having trouble concentrating on their words but he heard the rain begin to hit the leaves above him. He was only vaguely aware that Wilkerson sent Adams back for the others and told Lucas to sit and talk to him as he worked on getting the steel door opened. He knew Lucas was talking to him but he could not make himself answer.

Wilkerson got the door opened and played his light around the darkened bunker. The air  was musty but breathable. He went back to Ford and Lucas. "Come on, Commander, let's get you inside." Wilkerson was a big man, nearly as big as Dagwood and he lifted Ford with ease. Ford passed out. Lucas went ahead with a light and Wilkerson carried Ford inside.

The rain was really pelting when Adams returned to camp. Young trees were blowing so hard that their uppermost branches scraped the ground. Those at camp were doing their darndest to keep Brody and Ortiz dry and all their equipment tied down.

"We found it!" Adams hollered over the ever increasing wind.

"None too soon," Donner commented, "She's really startin' to blow." They all began gathering things up.

"It ain't all good news. Ford fell into a concrete stairwell. He wasn't movin' when I left."

"Damn!" It escaped Henderson before she could stop it.

"It's your airplane now, Ace," Mac teased, noting that she was the only officer left standing. "What's your call?"

"Get everybody to shelter," she yelled. The wind picked up her words and seemed to toss them as mindlessly as it tossed everything else. They all picked up as many packs as they could carry. Donner and Dagwood and Tony and Torres took the stretchers. Adams led the way and she brought up the rear to be sure no one fell behind.

Lucas was waiting for them at the doorway with a flashlight. He and Wilkerson had pulled away as much undergrowth as they could so that they could get through carrying stretchers.

Hard raindrops were pelting them when they arrived. Lucas had never known rain could hurt before but he had not ducked inside till everyone was safe. The run in the rain had bothered Brody but Ortiz had slept through it. Wilkinson had already explored the bunker which was much larger than they had expected it to be. He had found a number of cots and blankets probably left over from the bunker's military days. He already had Ford laying on one of them. Mac went to check on him while Henderson looked at Brody and Ortiz. Brody's pain was obvious but he said nothing about it.

"They're both soaked to the skin. We gotta get them out of these wet clothes."

"I bet you say that to all the boys," Brody teased.

She had a utility knife and was about to cut his pants off so his injured leg would not be jostled.

"I'd be careful if I were you Lieutenant," she said evenly as she began cutting at his waistband. "I sure would hate to get nervous and cut off more than your wet clothing."

Even in the dim lights afforded by the flashlight Brody visibly paled.

"I don't think this girl took that Officer Stupidity Training you were telling us about, Lieutenant," Mac said joining them. "I don't think it would do to give her a hard time."

"I guess not. I'm sorry. It was a joke. I didn't mean anything."

"Apology accepted," she told him but he still looked nervous.

"Got his mind off his broken leg fast," Mac said to her quietly helping her get the wet clothes off of him and cover him with a blanket.

She looked around. Tony and Dagwood had taken care of Ortiz and covered him with a blanket. He managed to sleep through it all. "How's the Commander?"

"Broken wrist and a broken ulna -- one on each arm."

"Oh great and we don't have any more morphine."

"He's not too uncomfortable. At least he can stay put in here."

Donner, Wilkinson and Adams had been checking the bunker out. "Everything looks secure. Maybe we should conserve the flashlights a little," Donner suggested.

"I found the powerstation but it's a museum piece. I wouldn't know where to begin with it." Wilkinson reported.

"I would." Henderson said. "I grew up at a powerstation."

"Show the lady the way, Joe," Donner relaxed. If they had both shelter and power what  more could they ask for under the circumstances.

***

The seaQuest was a long way away but her Captain's thoughts were with them. They had evacuated three oil rigs and a cruise ship only to have the hurricane suddenly change course. It wasn't the constant demands of short tempered pampered cruise ship passengers that got to him so much as the path that the storm was now taking. While they were tending to the whims of tourists and oil riggers the island his people were on seemed to be targeted by the storm.

He'd forbidden civilians from the bridge and he took his refuge there. He huddled over O'Neill's shoulder.

"Any change?" he asked hopefully.

O'Neill had been pushed far beyond his limits. He'd been on duty nearly around the clock since the storm had changed course. "No. There's no change. It's going to hit them and there's not a DAMN thing we can do about it!" He needed to lash out at something. He felt totally helpless as he charted the category four hurricane that was bearing down on Miguel, Lucas, Ford and the others. He'd seen the damage typhoons and monsoons could do. He knew there might be nothing left of the island when they finally offloaded their passengers and returned to their original destination. His fury wanted to explode more but suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and cool calmness began to flood his being. He looked up into the kind face of boat's new doctor.

"Come on, Lieutenant, you need to take a break," she said kindly but firmly.

"Go ahead, Tim." Bridger's voice was kind and concerned also.

Only then did O'Neill realize he had yelled at the captain. He felt flustered. "Uh sir, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"You're tired and worried. We all are. Now go take a break. Doctor's orders. I'll sit storm watch for a while."

"Yes sir." Almost reluctantly he got up from his position. He knew that the Captain was surely as worried about Lucas as he was about Miguel. He had teased him before he left about being assigned to the team that had a woman on it. Miguel had assured him it was his luck. He said a quick prayer that Miguel's famous luck would hold out and see him through this -- see them all through this.

***

Henderson was able to get the power to come up. Tony threw together a meal and was able to get the dinosaur of a stove to work. All things considered they passed the storm remarkably well but during the worst of it the crashing and tearing sounds they heard outside were unnerving. The constant change in the pressure outside and in the bunker itself caused their ears to pop. The light flickered a few times but the power did not fail. The calm and silence as the eye passed over them was maddening. The backside of the storm was even more powerful and the noise of it's destruction could barely be hollered over. A valiant attempt was made at a card game but Ortiz was the only one that got any sleep that night.

The next day was the day they were supposed to rendezvous with seaQuest. Donner, Adams and Wilkinson decided to make their way back to the beach and guide rescue parties to them.

"Watch out for snakes in trees," Brody warned. They looked at him like he was delirious but the warning had served them well, as it turned out.

The island was almost unrecognizable so much of the lush vegetation was either blown down or blown away all together. It actually did look like ground zero of a bombing. It took a compass to get them back to the beach -- only the beach itself was gone. The high tide mark was well into the tree line but few trees even remained. Those that did were macabrely twisted. Tide pools that had formed in what was once forest held dead fish floating on their sides bloating and stinking in the bright sunshine. A lone bird circled and cried overhead. It was a harsh scene to take in and the three hardened security men stood frozen, unable to really comprehend what they were witnessing.

Suddenly a snake dropped out of one of the few remaining trees at Wilkinson's feet. It slithered harmlessly away but they now noticed many more snakes in the tree. They decided it was time for weapons and all found suitable poles and whittled a sharp point into each one with pocket knives. The entire cove seemed to have changed and it didn't look like even a shuttle could beach here. They waited all day but there was no sign of seaQuest. As darkness approached the thought of snakes in the trees waiting to swoop down on them made them decide to return to the bunker. Even if seaQuest did arrive they would not try to negotiate a landing in the dark.

On the way back to the bunker the men were accosted by Ortiz' huge goat. These men were armed and came back to the bunker with fresh meat. Torres helped them dress it out and Tony cooked up goat stakes for them and goat stew for the injured and got the rest into the walk-in refrigerator. Tony was not big on exploring unknown regions of the bunker, sure he would come upon the skeleton or ghost of a former resident. He kept his fears to himself. It would never do to give Lucas any more ammunition than he already had on him. He was fairly intimidated by Lucas' brains and education but he'd never let on to him. After all, he was the only one in this whole crew that could do more than boil water without a microwave. Real cooking was getting to be a lost art and he could do it. They had to eat. If seaQuest was delayed he wanted no part of any more rations. He could sense that some of them were more worried than they let on about seaQuest missing the rendezvous. Other than the fact that some of them needed medical attention he thought they could survive here for quite a while.

The seaQuest was a no show for the next two days as well. The security men took turns going down to the beach to watch for her. There was not even enough beach left for them to light a signal fire -- not that there was any dry wood. The hurricane had spawned many tropical showers in its wake. Henderson and Mac were kept pretty busy with their patients so KP fell to Tony, Lucas and Dagwood. Tony was the expert cook and Dagwood was the expert at cleaning up leaving Lucas feeling relatively useless. Dagwood was pretty quiet but Tony and Lucas did a lot of complaining about their lot in life. Tony had come from a broken home and Lucas felt abandoned by his parents. Both sets of parents took a lot of flack from their sons as did their being stuck on seaQuest.

"There's lots worse places you could be," Dagwood said suddenly. They were so surprised when he spoke that they actually listened to him. "People treat you fairly on seaQuest. Captain Bridger is a good man."

"It's his fault we're in this mess," Lucas argued.

"Captain Bridger did not make the hurricane. We are on this island because Commander Ford and Lt Brody and you two couldn't get along. People have to learn to get along. People not getting along is what causes wars."

"Are you saying it's our fault?" Tony was shocked.

"It isn't anybody's fault. Not Captain Bridger's or yours or your parents'. I never had parents. I would have liked to have them but that's not the way it was. Sooner or later you have to stop blaming your parents for your life. You are not what your parents made you. You are what you make yourself. You have no control over the past but the future and the present belong to you. You can be happy or unhappy it is your choice."

"Nobody knows what true happiness is, Dagwood," Lucas thought that sounded learned. He'd studied at the best colleges in the nation and had read voraciously since he was three years old. He had acquired a lot of learning but little real wisdom.

"I do," Tony argued "Happiness is having what you want."

"I don't think so." Dagwood said seriously. "I think happiness comes from wanting what you have. I read that in a cookie once."

"All the books I've read and he learns the meaning of life from a fortune cookie!" Lucas was astounded.

"Who's the real genius here, Brain Boy?" Tony laughed. Both Tony and Lucas had to reassess their preconceived notion that Dagwood was all brawn and no brain. Lucas also had to reassess the reason he was so angry. It was not merely that his father had dumped him on seaQuest. He had grown to like seaQuest and feel at home there and then it had all changed.

Science was not as important as it once was. He was now the only civilian on board -- except for Dagwood. He lost the privacy of his own room -- his own sanctuary but now there was someone close to his age to talk to. Someone who understood his feelings about adults and authority figures. Who liked his kind of music. Without the rest of the science contingent he was forced to socialize more with the military. They actually hadn't treated him as strangely as he had expected. They weren't treating him like some kid but as part of the team. He kind of liked that. While he was mulling all this over Dagwood moved off and got busy doing something else.

"I don't know about you, but I'm going stircrazy," Tony said.

"Me too. I want to go outside and see the aftermath of the storm."

"We got nothing else to do."

"Let's go tell Ford where we're going."

Commander Ford was having a hard time keeping his dignity intact. First of all he was completely helpless with two injured arms. Henderson was feeding him a bowl of stew like he was a two year old. She had placed her stuffed dog on the pillow next to him to keep him company and Brody was in the next cot teasing that he had only broken one leg.

"We're going to go out and look around," Lucas said

"Well, be careful and don't go too far," Henderson advised.

"Yes, Mom," Tony teased.

Finally Ford had something he could yell about. "That's enough, Mister." His tone stopped Tony in his tracks. "Ensign Henderson is the ranking officer here. I expect you to do as she says or I'll have you up on charges. DO I make myself clear?"

"Aye sir," Tony found himself at attention. He and Lucas edged their way to the door.

Once outside Tony relaxed and muttered, "That from a man with a teddy bear."

They both laughed but the scene of destruction outside the bunker served to sober them a bit. The place was almost unrecognizable. The storm had cleared all the vegetation away from the bunker. Even if they had had the map the landmarks on it had all been blown away. Both of them made mental notes not to get lost as they wandered in the general direction of the ocean with the idea of taking a swim.

Inside the bunker Henderson was marveling at what she had just heard. She remembered all the time she and her friends had spent during sleepovers in grade school trying to decide which movie star they would like to be stranded on a desert island with. Well, here she was actually on a desert island with nine men and she was in command. She sure had some letters to write when she got back to the boat! Ford and Brody were still at it but it did look like Lucas and Tony were getting along. She brought Ford's bowl over to the sink and washed it out. She could do that much but thank God that Tony could cook and no one expected her to do it. Without a microwave she had two dishes. One of them was toast and the other wasn't. Dagwood came up to her. "It's Okay, Dagwood. I got it." she referred to the dish.

"I think I will go outside, too," he said simply.

"Good idea. Keep an eye on Lucas and Tony will you? I'm sure this is all a lark to them but there could be dangerous things out there and we don't need anyone else getting hurt."

"Dagwood will watch them," he promised.

*****

Tony and Lucas were busy exploring and it wasn't too long before they were playing  soccer with a downed coconut. Three times Tony had sent it off into the brush for Lucas to chase so Lucas enjoyed it when Tony missed the shot and had to traipse off into the fallen devris and what was left of the undergrowth after the "ball". He sat on a downed tree trunk and enjoyed what little shade it could afford. He heard Tony thrashing around and even calling him but he knew it was some kind of trick. He ignored him for as long as he could, finally he gave in and went looking for him.

"Alright, Tony, where are you?" he called.

"LUKE, watch out!" Tony gasped. "Be careful where you walk."

It rook him a minute to locate him and a minute more to process what he was seeing. Tony was standing waist deep in mud.

"I'm stuck fast. Don't you get stuck too. I never seen mud like this before."

"My God, Tony! That's not mud -- it's quicksand. Don't struggle or you'll only sink faster."

"I thought that was somethin' they made up for the movies," Tony said miserably.

Lucas tried to remember what he'd read about quicksand. He got down on his belly and began to crawl toward Tony who was visibly sinking into the stuff.

"What are you doing? You'll be over your head in minutes that way?"

"No. This is the way you do it. Scientifically...."

"To hell with science -- just get me out."

Slowly and methodically Lucas slithered across the quicksand. He ignored the pull at his shirt and tried to make himself as flat as he could on the surface. Tony was starting to cough when he finally reached him.

"It's getting into my gills," he gasped.

Lucas had not thought of that. He reached for his wrist. It took two attempts but he finally grabbed him. "It's okay. I've got you." He did have a hold of him but he could not pull him out. Too much of Tony was now beneath the sand and he weighed too much for Lucas to be able to get him out. Their struggles just made him sink faster.

"Who'da thought I'd drown?" Tony forced himself to laugh. "Here's one on the Navy."

"You're not going to drown!" Lucas yelled

"Looks like I am, Pal. I appreciate you're tryin' but you'd better let go now. No point both of us goin'."

"I'm not letting go."

"Don't be a fool! Here's your chance to be rid of me and have your room to yourself  again." Tony was trying to make him mad so he'd let go but he could be just as stubborn as Tony could.

"Who says I want my room to myself. Who could I blame for things if you weren't there?"

"You can't do it, Luke. Let go."

"Don't call me Luke. My name is Lucas."

"Lucas then. Either way. Let me go. I told you. You can't get me out. You'll drown too."

He began to choke.

"Stop arguing. You're just getting yourself winded." Lucas desperately tried to think of something to do but he kept drawing a blank.

"Face it. You gave it the ol' college try. I appreciate it. Honest but you're not strong enough."

"I am," came a quiet voice behind them. Dagwood stood at the edge of the bog. He picked up a fallen tree and ripped the branches off of it then he slid it out to them. "Grab ahold, Tony," he instructed. Lucas made sure he had a good hold before he let go of him. "Now, Lucas, crawl out. Hold onto the tree if you have to." Lucas obeyed delighted to follow orders for once.

When he was clear Dagwood used all this strength and pulled on the tree. At first nothing happened but then Tony began to be dragged from his muddy prison. There was a loud suction sound as all but his legs below the knees were free. Dagwood dragged him the rest of the way in and Lucas pulled him clear. Both Tony and Lucas lay on the bank panting for a few minutes.

"Thanks, Big Guy," Tony extended his hand in gratitude. "Good thing you happened along."

"I did not happen along. Henderson and I thought I should look out for you."

"You were baby-sitting us?!" Lucas shrieked.

"I was looking out for you. Friends look out for friends, don't they?"

"Yeah, they do. It wasn't like we didn't need his help," Tony agreed. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment then Tony suggested they find a freshwater pool so they could clean up.

Dagwood left them splashing in a shallow pool and continued on to a ridge that overlooked the sea. Somehow he felt drawn to this place. It was as if something was calling to him. He did not question his feelings, as most people did. He searched the water. The sun was beginning to set but still he searched. Then he saw it. He knew that was what had called him. A lone dolphin swam parallel to the shore. He knew it was Darwin. He ran back to tell Lucas and Tony.

They were skeptical but followed him to the spot anyway. When they got there the ocean was once more empty. Dagwood insisted that Darwin had been there.

"Maybe it was another dolphin," Lucas suggested not wanting to think about his friend Darwin or the seaQuest at the moment.

"No. It was Darwin."

"Well, whoever it was -- it's gone now and it's getting dark so I think we'd better head back. There will be hungry people to feed and I'd just as soon not take another dip in quicksand," Tony was insistent.

They let Dagwood lead the way. He had been genetically engineered to have an excellent sense of direction and though neither would admit it Tony and Lucas did not have a clue as to where they were.

*****

The security team also left the beach early. They had found some sweet potatoes growing wild and brought them home in time to be fixed for dinner. Besides it seemed to be threatening to rain again and there was no sign of seaQuest again today. There had been a lot of speculation but no one had a really good explanation for the boat's tardiness.

They had been gone over an hour when the launch finally broke the surface.Captain Bridger sat in the cockpit with the pilot, as did Dr. Smith and a very nervous Lt. O'Neill. It was unlike O'Neill to volunteer for a landing party but Bridger knew he and Ortiz were friends.

Bridger had debated about letting him come but could think of no good reason not to. If it was bad news he'd feel no worse knowing sooner than later.

Bridger looked down at the map he held then out the viewport in front of him. "Where the hell's the beach?" he demanded.

"Looks like this area took a direct hit, Captain," the pilot explained. "Do you want me to try and beach?"

"I've come this far. I'm not going back without answers," Bridger told him.

"Aye sir."

Bridger looked back at Smith and O'Neill. The doctor's eyes were closed in concentration. He somehow knew she was psychically searching for them. Hell! He'd take all the help he could get. O'Neill's eyes darted madly. Bridger knew the forewarnings of a panic attack. O'Neill was a good man but everyone had his limits.

"You alright, Lieutenant?"

"Fine sir."

Bridger knew he was lying but at least he was coherent. He felt the gentle thud as the runners on the launch made the landing. When the vehicle stopped he told O'Neill to lead the way. He had to have something to do. As they waited for him to climb down the cockpit ladder he said to the doctor, "Do you feel anything?" He was not sure he had the correct terminology.

"No." She was honest. "Only us. Maybe I'll be able to pick something up outside."

The search and rescue teams he had brought were already working when Bridger exited the launch into waist deep water. He and O'Neill both helped the Doctor and they walked onto the shore together. The devastation was overwhelming. Large trees had been pulled up by the roots and tossed about. The beach had eroded away to nothing. Large rocks had rolled down from the rocky cliffs. The smell of death hung heavy in the air.

"My God," O'Neill muttered. "It's even worse than I thought." He wandered away to join in the search.

"Anything yet?" Bridger asked the Doctor.

She shook her head. He swore there were tears in her eyes. He had never allowed himself to believe they'd been killed. One of the search teams came up to report. "We didn't find anything, sir, uh no bodies or anything. Maybe they didn't make it over here and took refuge on another part of the island.

"They made it here," said a steely voice they didn't recognize as O'Neill's. He dropped a shapeless lump into the sand by there feet. "It's Miguel's pack. It was in a tree. There's some other stuff over there. All that's left of them. They made it to the beach and they died here."

"You don't know that, Tim." Bridger said firmly.

"We didn't find any bodies," the search team leader agreed.

"The beach washed out to sea and SO DID THEY!" Tim yelled in disagreement. "What more proof do you need?"

"A lot," Bridger told them. "Okay, they got here maybe they headed for high ground when the storm approached."

"Brody is from Florida," the search team leader said. "He probably knows about hurricanes."

"So's Miguel," O'Neill latched onto that thin piece of hope.

"If they are holed up in a cave or something I wouldn't be able to pick them up," Dr. Smith informed them.

"Then we have to go on that assumption," Bridger said. "We have a little daylight left. We'll search this area thoroughly and if we find nothing we'll start with the rest of the island in the morning. I want a standard grid pattern search and I don't want any stone left unturned," Bridger told the search leader.

The search proved futile and they began losing the light and it was threatening to rain. Bridger called off the search for the night but promised they'd comb the island with even more searchers at first light. Everyone had gotten back on to the launch in a gloomy silence. He stood on the runner taking a last look around when suddenly something that looked almost like a torpedo shot through the water at his leg. It turned off at the last minute but a fin still hit him behind his knee and almost landed him in the drink. The dolphin breached the water and squealed with excitement. He had not thought to bring the vocorder but he knew his friend was trying to tell him something. He shot out toward the sea and returned twice.

Bridger climbed onto the launch and ran up to the cockpit. "He's found something. Can you keep up with him?"

"Follow that dolphin? Aye sir," the pilot laughed. He turned on the powerful search light and kept Darwin in sight with it. He followed him to a cove on the other side of the island. It was dark now and they had to use flashlights but once more the searchers debarked and made their way up a steep incline. It was rocky and slippery and they all had to hold each other up but finally they emerged in a sandy area. None of them had been in this area before so it was a joyous occasion when the beam of a flashlight fell upon fresh footprints. They gathered around them to regroup. There were three sets of prints.

"As much rain as there has been I'd say these had to have been made after the hurricane came through here," the search leader said eliciting a round of cheers. Some of them, at least, had survived. The man knelt and studied the prints closely in his flashlight beam. "The big ones have got to be the dag- GELF. These small ones could be Lucas or the girl. And one other. They're heading this way. Do you want to chance following them in the dark, sir?"

"If it rains tonight, they'll be gone when we come back tomorrow," Bridger decided. "Everybody single file behind us and don't go off the trail for any reason. Go ahead. Lead on."

*****

Inside the bunker the routine that they had established was going on. Henderson looked around with some satisfaction. They had jockeyed the cots around so the Brody was able to feed Ford. They had actually managed to be civil to one another and found that they had a common interest in basketball. The security men were playing cards at the table and Lucas, Tony and Dagwood cleaned up the dishes. They had said that their afternoon was uneventful but somehow she did not believe them. Her eyes fell on Ortiz. She was surprised to find him awake.

"What smells so good?" he asked.

"Are you hungry?" She couldn't believe it. She had spent the better part of her time here on this island trying to get him to eat with very little success.

"Starved," he admitted with a smile. He looked more like his old self.

"Let me get you some food." She brought him a bowl of stew. He was very weak and eager enough to eat that he didn't fuss about being fed.

"This is good. It tastes like real meat."

"It is real meat. Remember your friend the goat?"

"This is him?"

"Yes."

"He sure tastes better than he looked. Did you make this?"

"No. Tony did."

"He cooks better than he looks too."

"I heard that Ortiz," Tony yelled from the kitchen area. He was about to yell another smart remark when he thought he heard a knocking sound at the door. Since their whole group was inside his thoughts turned to the ghost that he was certain owned the bunker. He looked at Lucas. Lucas' own thoughts involved the pirates Ortiz had said once buried treasure on these islands. Before either of them could decide what to do Dagwood pulled the door opened.

"Hello, Captain," he greeted. He didn't sound at all surprised to see him.

"Captain!" Lucas ran over to him and exploded into his arms in a rough hug. Bridger was so glad to see them that Piccolo got the same treatment. The rest of the search party walked around them.

The Doctor saw Henderson feeding Ortiz and walked up to them.

"What happened?" she asked . Her voice was full of concern and she opened the med kit that she'd brought.

"Look, Wendy, I haven't been able to get him to eat. Now that he is I want to make sure he gets filled up. Both Brody and Ford have broken bones. Why don't you go examine them?"

The doctor was taken aback but Henderson had been the primary caregiver. She noted that Ortiz seemed to have a healthy appetite at the moment and that was certainly a good sign.

She went over to Ford and Brody. McCormick met her there and explained their conditions and what treatment they had been given.

Ortiz finished one bowl of stew and thought he could eat another. Henderson got it for him. She noticed the Communications man hanging back. She knew he was friends with Ortiz.

"You want to bring this to Ortiz? I have some other things I have to do," she lied.

"Sure," O'Neill smiled, "I'd be glad to help." She noticed he had a cute smile.

O'Neill brought the stew over to Ortiz and sat in the chair next to the bed. "I might have known I'd find you with the woman," he teased his friend. Ortiz just smiled and eyed the stew hungrily. "What is this stuff?" O'Neill wriggled up his nose as he fed a spoonful to Ortiz.

"It's goat. This particular goat tried to eat me."

"Miguel, goats are vegetarians."

"That explains why he was so grouchy," Ortiz teased him this time.

"Very funny. I still don't see how you can eat it."

"Hey! Turnabout is fair play. I got laid out by this beast."

"Actually from what the others said you got laid out by a flower."

"What?"

"I'm afraid so. There's poisonous bushes all over this island."

"I felt bad enough when I thought it was a goat," Ortiz complained

"Well, don't feel bad -- Brody got his leg broken by a bird."

"What?" Ortiz laughed

"They said you'd been out of it. I bet you don't even know about the hurricane?"

"What hurricane?"

"Hurricane Lucas," O'Neill was ready to give him all the gory details but the food had made Ortiz sleepy and he dozed off before O'Neill could get started.

Tony had gotten busy feeding the new comers. Bridger wandered over to Ford and Brody with a bowl of stew in his hands just as the Doctor finished up with them.

"This is great," he told her. "Go get yourself some."

"Don't mind if I do." She went off toward the kitchen area.

"What is it?" Bridger asked them.

"Ortiz' goat," Ford smiled.

"My compliments to the chef."

"That would be Piccolo," Brody provided.

"So, what on earth happened to you guys?"

"A bird knocked me off a mountain," Brody admitted sheepishly.

"A bird?" Bridger's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"It was a big bird," Brody tried to defend himself.

"Like the goat was a big goat," Bridger prompted.

"It was a big goat," Ford said.

"I know. We passed the carcass coming in here. What exactly happened to you?"

"I- uh- I fell down the stairs coming in here." It was Ford's turn to be miserable

"I see," Bridger said noncommittally. "What about Ortiz? What did he break?"

"Nothing. He tangled with a poisonous plant. For a while we weren't sure he'd make it but he looks better now," Ford reported

"So who won?" Bridger asked offhandedly.

"Excuse me?" Ford really had no idea what he was talking about.

Brody did. "Commander Ford's party reached the designated pick up point first, sir."

"But we failed the test, sir," Ford reported honestly. "We disregarded the separate team concept and all worked together."

"No, Jonathan," Bridger laughed, "you passed. That was the test. Boats run by teamwork not competition. I wanted you to all learn to work together."

"That was the plan?" Ford was dubious. And they both looked a little confused.

"We can discuss this in the morning. Those shots Dr. Smith gave you are supposed to make you sleep and you both look tired," Bridger said kindly.

"Sir?" Brody asked sleepily.

"Yes?"

"How did you arrange that hurricane?"

Bridger just laughed. He knew that hurricane could well have been arranged to remind him not to play God with people's lives. He knew these young people had been entrusted to him to help shape but he, too, had to remember there was a higher authority and he'd better not get too cocky either.