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seaQuest was created by Rockne O'Bannon and the series is the property of
Amblin Television and Universal Television. I am making no monetary profit out
of this story, the only recompense I desire is the knowledge that someone is
reading this and other, related stories and enjoying them. Treysa Barlow is the creation of my friend and co-author, Paula Behanna. Irene Adler is my own creation and not based on anyone I have ever met, real or imaginary, except herself.
"Portals of Darkness" is based at the beginning of the third season of
seaQuest, shortly after the events of the episode "In the Company of Ice and
Profits". It is excerpted from a novel currently in the process of formation,
titled "To Dare Cerberus", which will encompass a great deal of the third
season events.
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Portals of
Darkness
by ---katirene (XMP)
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Miguel was dead. Time stopped and then her heart started beating again. Physically. And Ari pulled away from the inadequate mirror in the small cabin she now shared with Treysa Barlow. Over the past week, since after they're return to Earth and she'd come to understand that he hadn't, the thought had never been very far from her mind. Everything onboard the seaQuest served to remind her of Miguel, and she still greeted each experience with the idea of sharing it with him later. But there was no later. He was dead. With a deep, heavy sigh, Lt. Irene Adler, junior grade, of the United Earth Oceans' prize deep submergence vessel seaQuest finished straightening her collar and squared her shoulders, asking herself the question that she'd asked again and again and still hadn't found an answer the satisfied her. Miguel was dead and she wasn't. Why? Why wasn't she dead? She had drowned, there on the bridge. When the proximity mines had struck, the bridge had been hulled and several other areas of the seaQuest as well. The clamshell doors had closed, to secure atmosphere in as much of the boat as possible, locking the bridge crew on the wrong side. So, what was she doing here, alive? It wasn't right. She'd been promised that she wouldn't be left behind again. But she was. The visions were getting worse, she thought to herself. In the time she'd been on seaQuest, she had "seen" the deaths of almost all the missing crewmembers, not just once, but continuously. Nights were the worse, because then, they came into her dreams, and she was left with the feeling that there was something they wanted, something she could do. But she didn't know what. If Captain Bridger were here, she could go to him to discuss the matter, or if Wendy Smith were still chief science officer and boat's physician. But Oliver Hudson, regular military was in charge now, a hard-nosed, pragmatic realist who didn't believe in anything he couldn't touch, taste, or smell. And the new doctor was his creature. Ari didn't trust this captain, or any of his people. Their attitude toward the real crew of the seaQuest was just too grating to the raw sensitivities of the survivors. Although, to do him justice, she'd managed to rub the new captain the wrong way several times herself, and this cabin was the result of her victories. It was worth it, she thought pensively and then sighed guiltily. Too bad Trey had to suffer for her misdeeds, though. Treysa Barlow, Lonnie Henderson and Ari had all three been ensigns on seaQuest just a couple of weeks ago, eagerly waiting for the promotion boards to be posted. Miguel Ortiz, Senior Chief Petty Officer and tactical wizard at the sonar station had already received word that he had been accepted to an officer training program, effective at the end of their current tour. Ari had a paper on the language capabilities of Tursiops truncatus, the bottlenose dolphin, almost ready for submission, the first step in attaining a doctorate in Marine science. But then they'd waken up one day to find that the world had turned ten years without them, and they'd lost, not only their futures but also their pasts, and a number of good friends and crewmates along the way. Now they three were all junior grade lieutenants, although, considering the way that Lonnie was sucking up to the new captain, odds were that she wouldn't remain junior for very long. The dolphin project that Trey and Ari had been formulating for the UEO might as well have been buried in the cenotaph raised to the seaQuest crew. And Miguel was dead. Senior Chief Petty Officer Miguel Ortiz. Cuban; long, dark, curly hair; twinkling eyes that were always on the verge of laughter; strong shoulders always ready to help a friend or lift a burden; a soft, tender mouth that was almost always smiling. Ari sighed again, considering the sum of his parts compared to the whole. Miguel Ortiz, the only man she had ever loved. Miguel Ortiz, who was one of those who hadn't reappeared when seaQuest did. Ari closed her eyes, prickling with tears, and bowed her head. They had been planning to get married. Not immediately, no. Officers and enlisted did not, and both remain in the service. No, after he'd compleated the training. After she had obtained her PhD. When they would be able to write their own ticket with the UEO. But that was all gone now. Impatiently, she wiped away the tear that trickled out. Captain Bridger was gone, now, too. Of his own choice relinguishing control to Captain Oliver Hudson. Captain Hudson. A mini-martinet who was so convinced that he knew exactly what had to be done. An obsessed man given charge of the object of his obsession. A Machiavellian manipulator who treated the seaQuest crew, the original crew, as a bunch of slackers who had deliberately checked out for a decade in order to escape the consequences of their absences. Ari knew it was petty, but she was glad whenever she managed to prick a hole in his pomposity. But she did wish that Trey weren't paying the price for her intransience. The rescue of the Macronesian refugees had left the seaQuest scrambling for space, and the oversized, minor-VIP quarters that Ari and Trey both had as singles had probably been grating on Hudson's nerves since he'd realized where they were. He certainly lost no time ordering them to move their belongings to this cabin, even though there were larger quarters available. Ari didn't mind. It was easier to evade the nightmares when someone else was in the room with her. She shook her head and rechecked her appearance, then the room. She was wearing her dress uniform, all medals, commendations and awards precisely placed and in order. And the room was sparkling clean, not a single thing out of place. She and Trey had gone over it several times to make sure. That was the biggest part of her guilt at making Trey move. The fact that she was relying on the other woman so much, now. She was a deLegardi, by training, and she should be self-sufficient. Only, she couldn't do this alone. Miguel was dead, and that was that. There was a knock at the door, and Ari Adler looked up to the window. A handsome, rather well tanned face gazed in, the man she'd been preparing for. She jumped up and opened the hatch for him. Duv Petras was a startlingly handsome man. A native Micronesian, he had been one of the children the seaQuest had rescued from slavers half a year ago, but almost eleven years had past for him since then. At the time, he'd been thirteen years old, a fledgling priest/magician for his people under the tutelage of his father, the Ariki Petras. Now he was twenty-four. Impatiently, he threw off his borrowed bathrobe, revealing his half-naked, hard, muscled body, carefully oiled for what they were preparing to do. He nodded approval at the sight of Ari, stepping up to her and kissing her forehead, sniffing slightly at her hair before backing away. She slipped past him, climbed the steep steps and pulled the privacy screen down. "You shouldn't do that if there's a chance we'd be seen," she said in a low voice. He grinned at the reproof. "We shouldn't be in here alone with the door shut and the screen down anyway," he countered. It was true. What they planned to do together would break, bend and mutilate more regulations than Ari wanted to consider. But if it weren't for Hudson's determination to pretend that nothing had happened to the seaQuest during the time she'd been lost, and his decided attitude that her crew were automatons and simply extensions of her machinery, then this would not be necessary. Maybe. "Let's get it over with," Ari demanded brusquely. Duv shook his head, his long, black, straight locks fanning out slightly. Ari turned away, struck for a moment by a perceived resemblance to Miguel. Miguel was dead. DAMN! There was another tap at the door, a pattern of five raps, followed by a pause, then two. Trey opened the door wide enough to admit her overly slender body and slipped in. She nodded at her roommate. "Ok, we're set. No one will come looking for us for a couple of hours, at least." Her gaze traveled to the island magician and she noticed for the first time an slight resemblance to her friend's late fiance. Her eyes glazed and an odd expression crossed her face as she remembered certain interludes between her and Miguel. The rush of hormones annoyed her, given the circumstances and she spoke more harshly than otherwise. "I understand that that this is the customary ceremonial costume for this ritual in your culture, but couldn't you have at least put a tee on over it. This isn't an orgy, you know." He grinned and nodded at her. "Do not worry, Lt. Barlow. I would never do anything to harm Ariki." "No," Trey snapped back. "But you wouldn't do anything to prevent her from doing it to herself, either, would you? Look. Can't you stop her from going through with this? She'd just a kid, and she hasn't done this sort of thing before. It's not a ..." "I have to do it, Trey," Ari came out of her reflective reverie to profess quietly. "I ... For Miguel, for all of them. I have to be the one to do it." "It is true," Duv agreed, seating himself on the floor and taking out the small drum that had been under the bed. He also pulled out a small brazier, and a bag of coal. Trey shuddered at the thought of what they'd gone through to get those, too. She looked apprehensively up at the fire sprinklers and alarums. Ari had insisted on disabling them, explaining that she wanted Trey to be involved as little as possible. At least the brat hadn't tried to keep her out of it entirely. "Your crewmates would not recognize my authority to release them from duty," Duv went on, setting up the brazier with the ease of long practice, laying the chunks of fuel in a careful pattern. "And more importantly, I would not recognize them. Ariki ..." "No!" Ari interrupted from her seat on the lower bunk. "No, I have never agreed to that name, and I refuse it utterly now. I am Lt. Irene Adler of the seaQuest and ... and I do not have the right, nor the training for that title." Duv smiled tenderly at her, not insulted by her tone or the words she used. "It is not a title that one can give oneself," he replied. "But once it is granted, it cannot be revoked. Ariki you are, Ariki you remain, as long as the islands sail over the oceans beneath the sun and moon and stars. And so long as Tepui claims you for his own." Ari grimaced back and made a noise that sounded to Trey suspiciously like "phooeey!" Having arranged the few coals available in some esoteric, unreadable pattern, Duv took a small packet from the pocket of his robe, then handed the cover to Trey. "Please, hang this carefully. For her safety, nothing must be out of order." Trey nodded, her lips compressed tightly, and put his bathrobe on a hanger in the shared closet. "Now, lie down, Arik... Ari. I will light the sacred flames and we will begin." Obediently, the tiny officer did as directed, crossing her arms over her chest, like a corpse laid out for burial. Trey shivered at the thought. "Lt. Barlow." He turned to her. "Sit here. I need you to keep her heart beating using this drum." Trey folded herself up on the floor beside the bed and waited. She almost jumped up in indignation when the disturbing male groped Ari's left breast. But he began to beat on the small tabour with one hand. THUMP-thump, THUMP-thump. He removed his hand and continued the beat. THUMP-thump, THUMP-thump. Keeping the beat steady, moving the drum to Trey's lap, he indicated that she should continue as he was doing. "We will monitor her journey using this," he told her. "Follow my lead and slow or speed your drumming as I indicate." Trey nodded. She still wasn't too happy about this whole affair. It was weird and chancy and unlucky. But, the truth of the matter was that, ever since Ari had volunteered to remove Miguel's effects from his room, she'd been fading away. Not sleeping at night, or waking in tears, yelling out with fear. With fear! It was hard to imagine Ari Adler afraid of anything. And some mornings, the small woman woke up crying, quietly, facing the wall and refusing to roll over or speak for a couple of hours, until the alarum rang. She thought that Trey didn't know about it, but when it came to misery, Trey had long practice. She thought those must be the nights Ari had dreamed of Miguel. The kid wasn't eating, she wasn't sleeping properly. And that damned Dogface kept riding her, keeping her working, harassing her every minute she was on duty. "Your thoughts are too loud," Duv told Trey softly. Resentfully, Trey nodded, doing her best to quiet them down. He'd been more than graphic about the dangers of what they were doing. At first, Trey had thought that the young South Pacific native had been offering Ari comfort of a physical sort. Granted, that had bothered the crusty midwestern woman. It was difficult to imagine Ari romantically involved with any man other than Miguel. But Miguel was dead. And Ari was alive. And sexual union was one of the most primal methods of affirming life. Not that she and Tim had been able to celebrate in that way since they'd been back, but... Duv began to chant, as he added another twig of some aromatic plant to the tiny flickering flames. Trey tried to make her thoughts even more silent, so as not to disturb the two of them. Ari's eyes were closed and her breathing regular, almost as if she were asleep. Duv signaled for a slower beat and Trey adjusted her rhythm accordingly. It had only been a couple of days ago that Trey had finally forced the story of what was going on out of her dimunitive roommate. Ari had awakened Trey by jumping out of the top bunk and heading for the door. The older woman had realized that she was sleepwalking; Lucas had warned her that he'd found the kid wandering one night; and Trey had stopped her friend from leaving. When she'd come awake enough to realize what she'd almost done, she'd broken down and confessed that she was being haunted by the memories of those who had died on the seaQuest, who had not returned. She actually believed that they were ghosts and doomed to experience over and over again, their bloody, explosive and disturbingly final ends. Ari said that saw them, in the corridors, in the bays, several times a day when she was on duty. And then, at night, when she was asleep, they would cluster around her, crying, begging for release, for peace. Sometimes, she said, sometimes, Miguel would be there, holding her tight, keeping them away from her, but that was almost as bad, because, he felt so real. And when she woke up, it would take her a few moments to remember. Miguel was dead. Trey's thoughts began to wander through memories of the people who had not returned to the seaQuest, and her strong, capable hands maintained the drumbeats that represented the beat of living heart of Ari Adler.
Ari lay down and crossed her arms across her chest, the way she'd been "encouraged" to sleep for those four years in the convent. "So, if the good God decides to take you in your sleep," the old novice mistress has declared, "you'll already be in a seemly manner and no one will have much trouble laying you out." It still felt a little sinful, sometimes, to lie down on her side or stomach. She heard the small gasp Trey made and felt a smidgen of guilt, which she quickly suppressed. She must not take much with her, for the more she took, the less she could bring out. And, there were thirty-six souls depending on her carrying ability. The first time she'd encountered Teej Jones in the corridors, and seen him die, she had thought that it was actually happening. That had been within minutes of arriving on the seaQuest, the first shuttle to dock after the boat was wet again. Trey hadn't seen the enlisted man. Over the next few days, Ari had "met" and witnessed the deaths of a number of the others, and had graphed the course of destruction through the vessel. Through it all, she clung to her belief, her faith, no, more of a conviction, that Miguel was alive. It was curious and annoying that he hadn't checked in with the UEO, yet, and she'd planned on twitting him properly for that, but she could feel him, in her mind, in the state between sleep and dream. And then, Captain Hudson had ordered the quarters of the missing crewmembers cleared, to make room for his own people. Ari had volunteered to take care of Miguel's stuff, and his roommate. Neither had returned, yet. While putting away a St. Christopher medal, one that Ari had given him for Christmas, that he'd worn except when they'd exchanged the tokens for missions, Ari had "seen" the attack on the Hyperion ship. She'd seen the flashes of fire, the stormtroopers attack and felt the great, terrible jolt as the planted bombs exploded. A girder had fallen, smashing into P.O. Ward's head and trapping Miguel, holding him down as the water rose up and filled his mouth, his nose, his lungs. She'd felt the great gasping gulps as he struggled to breathe underwater, and she felt him die. Up until that moment, she had laughed at all the others, for their lack of faith. She couldn't imagine that ... that he was dead. He'd been so full of life. Even now, sometimes, she felt him, in the night. Holding her close and whispering in her ear, just as he used to do in their shared dreams. Slowly, Ari had compiled a list of all the missing crewmembers with notations next to them as to cause of death. The nightmares, when they had clustered around her, pleading with her to do something, to save them from reliving the same moments over and over again, throughout eternity, never moving on, never whole, frozen in a moment. Those nightmares, as frustrating, frightening and heartbreaking as they were, she preferred to the others, when Miguel was there, they were in the cave, sometimes, making slow, passionate love, the way they had on one long, afternoon liberty. Sometimes, they sat, not touching, just being together. Those were worse, because, Miguel was dead. And she might as well be, too. Ari heard Duv instruct Trey in the drumming, taking the beat from her own heart. A small smile touched her lips. Trey could be so silly at times. Thinking that Duv was at all interested in her. Impossible. Now, the fumes were filling her nostrils and Duv began to chant. And Ari began to descend, down, down. Her image of death had always been a maritime one, one of drowning, and so it was now, the black waters once again closing over her head, filling her being with darkness. She found herself on a wide road, leading toward a great, glowing red bronze gate. For a moment, she paused, puzzled. She was on the wrong side, wasn't she? She should have crossed over the river Styx, given the ferryman his due. There was a muted, dull sound, of heavy water hitting a rocky wall, and Ari turned. A wide, pitch-black river flowed sluggishly, like congealing blood, behind her, and a barge broke the surface, poled by a shadowy figure dressed in shadows. It raised its head and nodded toward her, as the boat moved away toward the spirits waiting on the far side. For a moment, Ari thought that she saw a face inside the deep hood, and that she recognized it, but the moment passed, and Charon turned away. With a sigh, she turned back toward the gates and began to trudge along the dry, dusty passage toward them. As she drew closer, she could make out details, decorations. With a start and a small laugh, loud and startling in the silence, she recognized some of the scenes from the Rodin exhibit at the Musee des Arts Decoratifs in Paris. This gate was the image of his "Gates of Hell", except, as she peered at it more carefully, there were significant differences. For one thing, Rodin had never compleated his gates, but this was a finished product. For another, one of the figures of the damned writhed and screamed in silent agony as she watched. With a shiver, Ari raised her eyes, and read the words the poet Dante had place above them.
I AM THE WAY TO A FORSAKEN PEOPLE. I AM THE WAY INTO ETERNAL SORROW.
SACRED JUSTICE MOVED MY ARCHITECT.
ONLY THOSE ELEMENTS TIME CANNOT WEAR
Duv had said that the spirits of those lost tended to forget themselves, their earthly lives, their very forms. Ari would have to remind them. She had prepared for that. A few months back, a song rage had swept through the seaQuest. It had started with Ari being upset with Lucas, over some silly thing, and the Captain had gotten some of the backwash. She had filked a version of Heinlein's "The Captain is the Father of His Crew", making some really nasty comments about the computer genius and his relationship with Captain Bridger. Lucas had quickly retaliated, and the song had grown to unbelievable dimensions before dying a natural death. There were rumours that even Commander Ford had penned a verse or two, about Jim Brody. If he were indeed the author of the ones Ari had heard about the tactical and security officer, then the commander was hiding a definite talent under his bushel basket. Ari hoped that her crewmates would remember the tune, and she began to sing. First she sang of the seaQuest herself, then the bridge officers; the verses that everyone would know. She could feel them gathering, and so she closed her eyes, remembering another of Duv's instructions. "And you must not look at them in their deaths, Arik..." he had said, stopping short and trying to pretend he wasn't going to call her by the courtesy title. "You must not look at them at all, for if the living will look at the shades of that place, it will bind them for all time." Ari had nodded, remembering the classic myths she had loved so much. "If she doesn't look, how will she find them?" Trey, listening incredulously, had interjected sarcastically. "She will know." There had been no doubt in Duv's voice. And now, Ari found that she did indeed know. She could feel them hovering just beyond, warming themselves on the heat of the blood moving through her veins, hungering for her life. Now, she began to identify them as individuals, and the song changed. These were the verses she's prepared, reminding them of who they are. Reminding Teej of Viola's first steps, of Amy's love and his own great love for them. Telling Dee Tyler about Tony Piccolo, singing the ex-con's praises as Dee had sung them to her, relating the story of how the helmswoman had led the charge to strip him when he'd been caught in the women's shower room. Ari sang through the roll call, smelling the burnt offerings as Duv placed each person's token in the fire, knowing that the spirits were absorbing the smoke, and gaining strength. She imagined them as they had been, before the seaQuest had been kidnapped and forced to fight in a war not of their making. Finally, her throat feeling as raw as the day after Siebas had tried to throttle her, Ari stopped singing. Inside her head, she heard Duv's anxious question. "What is it? What's wrong?" "That's it," she croaked. "That is all that are here, with me. I need to ... Miguel's not here." "Then it is time," he replied, and Ari gave a slow nod of her head. Eyes still closed, she called out in her best parade field voice. "Company, Atten- shun!" There was a whispering rustle around her. "Dis-Missed!" A breeze in that land of dead air swirled around her, a sense of thanks and gratitude, and then, she was alone. With a small sigh, the lieutenant opened her eyes and looked around. Grave yard dust stood still in mid-air, disturbed by the leave-taking of so many shades. The land was grey, drear, lifeless. The absence of life. "Ari, return now," Duv called out. Knowing that he couldn't see her, nevertheless, she shook her head, her heart bleeding with the knowledge of her failure. "How many?" she asked, barely ennunciating the words. "How many did I miss?" "Five," came the reluctant reply. "Only five. You have done well. Now return to the land of the living." "I can't. They are my people and ... And Miguel was one of them." "You must return," he urged tensely. "You do not understand. You have been there all night and it is almost dawn. You are exhausted and ..." "No. If I go back now, I can not come again," she pointed out logically. "You told me that, yourself. I cannot leave Miguel here, not like this." "Damn it! ARIKI! Come back! Don't..." But Ari knew he was already reaching for the spells that would force her spirit back into her body and she turned toward the Doors of the Dead. Once she was through there, he couldn't force her back. She didn't question how she knew that, but she felt certain that it was so. She ran for the distant gates, so far. So very far, and then, suddenly, gaping open just in front of her. And she slipped through. A growl warned her just in time, crescendoing in three part harmony. A quick step backward saved her as the hideous three headed beast lunged out its den toward her, its growls becoming barks and howls, startlingly loud in the absorbing quiet. Ari took a deep in breath of startlement, her eyes wide and frightened by the sight. It was a large, misshaped, lumpy figure that barred her way. Three sets of strong, sharp teeth snapping at her, three sets of jaws, each one strong enough to rip her hand off without half trying. A thick, heavy, braided chain pulled the furious animal up short of her, though, almost strangling it in its desire to get at her. She took another step backwards and it settled down on its haunches, tongues out, eyeing her suspiciously. Ari stopped, tried a step forward and the lips curled up over the massive teeth, snarling and promising. She maintained her position and Cerberus settled back down. She had to get through. Past the massive guardian beast, Ari could see the lost souls of the damned, wandering forever in hopeless aimless despair, forever to be cut off from the light, from eternity. A thin shrieking wail arose from beyond, then cut off. Somewhere, there, would be her missing crewmates, and somewhere, there, she would find her love. Sitting down on the silky soft dust covered ground, just inside the massive bronze gates, Ari considered what she knew. Hercules had squeezed the beast into submission, a bit of dognapping for the king in Hera's service. Aeneas had been traveling with a goddess who had drugged the great beast with honey and wheat cakes. Dante hadn't even encountered the guardian, and Orpheus? Orpheus had sung the beast to sleep. Considering her options, knowing that her throat was already dry as the dust down here, it seemed to be the only chance she had. With a soft cough, a vain and futile effort to clear her throat, Ari began to sing again. She crooned all the lullabies her mother had sung to her, the songs she'd planned to pass on to her children. Hers and Miguel's. In a way, she was doing so even now, for those plans were dead now. From there, she went on to love songs, silly songs, sad songs, everything and anything until she could no longer shape the words through the dust in her mouth. When the words ran out, she began the whale songs that had been the first sounds she remembered, the first lullabies she heard. Slowly, one by one, the blazing yellow eyes closed and the great heads drooped. One by one, they went down resting on its massive forelegs. Her eyes shut, concentrating, Ari did not notice until it began to snore, heavily and loudly. Then allowing her song to quiet, she opened her eyes and smiled at the hideous dog thing. Except, somehow, while she was singing, it had transformed. Its three heads seemed somehow, more delphine now, than canine. And it appeared that its hindquarters curled into the split tail of a cetacean. Ari slipped past it, letting her song trail behind her, and die into the hungry, gaping silence of hell.
Caught up in the rhythm she was beating out, Trey missed when Duv's chant changed. Blinking with surprise, she realized that she almost recognized the tune. By concentrating, she finally identified it as the joke song that everyone had been humming a few months back, some ten years ago, but slowed to almost a dirge. Catching the words, she changed the pattern to support the tune, almost unware that she did so, and she joined in humming. Duv flashed her a grin, his face more strained than it had been several hours back, when they had started. The chant changed again, and Trey didn't recognize it at all. But as Duv's voice went on and on, she thought she heard Ari singing underneath and Trey found herself remembering Teej, one of Miguel's friends, an enlisted man who sometimes took over the sonar station when Ari and Miguel were both unavailable or off-duty. She remembered how he carried around pictures of his kid, showing them off at the slightest provocation. Ari was always talking to him about babies. She risked a glance toward Ari, then wished she hadn't. The kid looked even more like a corpse now, her pale skin dead white, her eyes sunken in dark shadowed pits. A flash of flame flared up, Trey seeing it from the corner of her eye, and she turned back in time to see one of the little paper packets go up in smoke on the burning coals, the name Thaddeus Jones clear on the blackening envelope as it curled and shriveled up. At intervals, one by one, Duv dropped the little tokens in the fire, and one by one, they vanished in flames. All the time, he was chanting, verses that Trey couldn't quite remember but seemed so familiar. Verses that called her lost shipmates to mind. Then, his hand hovered over the remaining tokens, irresolute. "What is it? What's wrong?" She thought she heard him ask, but she wasn't sure. His next words were clear and strong. "Then it is time." The fire in the small burner flared up suddenly and the smoke cleared from the room almost like magic. Trey snorted ironically to herself. Exactly like magic. She sighed, glad that it was almost over, realizing the palms of her hands were sore and tired. Then she frowned at the packets remaining, trying to read the names inked on them. Duv's voice rose in command. "Ari, return now." Now Trey did give a short, mirthless laugh. She could have told him that wouldn't work with her short friend. Not unless your name was Miguel Ortiz. Then she realized that that was a name on one of the remaining, unburnt envelopes. "Duv," she called out, but he didn't hear her. His eyes shut, he slowly said, "Five. Only five. You have done well. Now return to the land of the living." There was a pause and he leaned forward, saying with urgency, "You must return. You do not understand. You have been there all night and it is almost dawn. You are exhausted and ... Damn it! ARIKI! Come back! Don't..." Opening his eyes, Duv Petras looked at Trey, and she was struck by the fear in them. "Quickly! Speed up the pace, we must force her back." Reaching around himself, he grabbed up some herbs and threw them on the hot coals, blowing gently to stir them up. His chanting set the pace for the beating. But then, with a cry of frustration, he jumped over onto the bed and began to unbutton her shirt. Trey threw the tabour away and grabbed him, appalled that he would try anything of the sort under these conditions, pulling him away and tossing him across the room. "No, she's dying!" He yelled, scrambling back. "Call a medical emergency. We've got to keep her body alive until her soul finds its way back." Uncertain, Trey looked down at her friend. She looked just as she had since the start of this whole creepy affair. She looked dead. No. She looked deader. With sudden fear, she knelt down and placed her ear on the other woman's chest. The lack of sound sent her flying across the room as Duv took her place, fixing his mouth to Ari's and breathing in, then pounding on her chest while Trey, almost sobbing in her rush of fear, hit the intercom button and called out, "Medical emergency to Adler's Quarters."
Past the hideous guardian of the gates, Ari tried to slow her racing heart, looking around for a point of reference to start looking. She circled in place, in the centre of a scene of madness, looking like an Hieronymous Bosch painting gone horribly wrong. The spirits here were in torment, screaming with their eyes, locked forever in their punishment by the despair that chained them down. Her heart ached for them, and she would have wept with pity, but the soul draining despair leeched the moisture from her body, leaving her drowning down in the taste of ashes. Biting her lower lip, Ari hesitated. How was she to find Miguel in this confusion, where every turn brought a different view, and even the giant gates were gone from sight as soon as she no longer looked upon them? In the outer land of lost and forgotten souls, she'd been able to call her crewmates to her with song, but now, with her throat closed up and the dust of ages coating her vocal cords, there were no more songs to be sung. She realized that here, in this place, there was never song. For singing implies hope, and here there was an absence of hope so great it was a vacuum, sucking the life from out her very bones. But the song had merely been the focus of her thoughts, she realized. Perhaps, she could do without that focus, open her thoughts to the ones she needed to call. Ari didn't consider that a focus also can serve as shield as she began to shape the form of her summons, beginning with the one she most wanted to save. She began to walk, aimlessly, her feet stirring up dust and shadows, her mind filled with the thoughts of the "last" time she'd seen Miguel, of his broad, strong chest; the muscles so clearly delineated. Of her fingers, running unhindered through his long, dark curls. Of his mouth on hers, on her body, and the taste of him, the feel of his body against her own. Ari trudged forward with eyes unfocused, knowing that she must not look at any of the souls trapped by their own guilt in this hellhole of an afterlife. And so, she was unaware of the eddies that followed in her wake, the hungry spirits, desiring life, desiring with an overwhelming intensity vengence against all life, where they themselves were dead. The attack was unheralded, a shade suddenly slashing across from behind, opening a gash in Ari's cheek, drawing blood. Instantly, her hand slapped up to cover it, but already too late, for the spirit was attached to it like some humanoid leech. With a small scream, she tried to pull it off, but there was nothing there for her to get purchase on. Another zoomed by, cutting into her arm, grabbing hold and beginning to feed, and then another. Frantically, she brushed at them, ineffectually, driven by fear. Finally, she recognized the haze behind her for what it was and for the first time, understood that she could die here, and be doomed to wander a spirit in this land of the damned. In panic, she began to run, choosing a direction at random. The spirits transformed, became vaguely canine as they hunted her like hounds of a Wild Hunt, their thin, reedy voices raised, giving call to the chase. More and more joined in, and Ari knew that she was doomed.
Dr. Perry looked from her patient on full life support to Captain Hudson. Shaking her head with a sigh, she confessed, "I don't understand it, Captain. When I examined her earlier, she seemed healthy enough, given her condition. Her heart was strong, there was no sign of an incipient stroke. This has me puzzled. The only things I can find physically are the traces of foreign chemical in her bloodstream and her erratic hormone ratios." "Wait, her condition? I thought you said she was healthy," Hudson asked suspiciously. "Oh, she is," the doctor insisted. "Or rather, she was, but ... I've been running blood tests on her the past few days. three times, I've gotten positive result for pregnancy, and once, negative. But I can't isolate the conceptus, and I should by this time. And I've gotten variable results on the relative concentrations of hormones, which makes it difficult to determine how far along she is. I don't understand what is going on, and she refuses to confide in me, except to declare that she isn't pregnant. So..." the doctor shrugged. Oliver Hudson opened his mouth to ask another question, but a rude beeping from the machinery attached to the wan figure in the bed interrupted him. Dr. Perry looked over and her eyes widened. "DAMN!" she yelled, racing over to a cabinette and pulling out a unit of blood. "Call for back-up," she ordered the captain over her shoulder. He hurried to obey as his long time chief medical expert set up the iv. "What's happening," he asked, hovering just out of range. "Blood pressure dropping," she answered absently, examining the readouts. "Acute anemia." A couple of med techs hurried in, looking to the chief medical officer for instructions. "Walters, another unit of B+ blood in here, stat! Curry, help me turn her over. We need to find out where she's haemorrhaging from." A third med tech checked her internal systems. Their examination compleat, the three doctors stood back shaking their heads. "The's no sign of bleeding, Dr. Perry," Sims stated what they were all thinking. "So, why is she still losing blood?" The woman shook her head. "Keep her on the iv and change the bag as needed," she ordered. "This is beyond our capabilities." As the other members of the med teams rushed into the room, Captain Hudson backed out to give them space to work, bumping into the XO. He turned around and found several others of the crew behind Ford, including, he was annoyed to notice, one of the Macronesian refugees, the young, arrogant man who seemed to be one of their leaders. The one who had been with Adler in her quarters when the med team arrived. "Commander Ford, order up a shuttle to transport Lt. Adler out of here. I'm sending her to New Cape Quest for treatment," he ordered. "You can't do that!" an outraged female voice gasped. "You'll kill her." "If I don't," he countered irritated anew by Barlow's questioning of his judgement, "Then we might lose the baby as well." And he glared at his new ensign Wolenczak, certain that he was the one responsible for the lieutenant's delicate condition. The kid actually tried to act innocent, staring blankly back before colouring up in betrayal. Satisfied, Captain Hudson turned again to Lt. Barlow. "And it looks to me like you and your FRIEND have done a good enough job at trying to kill her." The woman took in a sharp breath, looking as though she'd been punched in the stomach. Lt. O'Neill reached out a hand toward her and Oliver Hudson narrowed his eyes. After a quick look at the captain, Tim pulled his hand back without making contact. Pressing his lips together in disgust, Captain Hudson spun on his heel and strode away. Behind him, Duv Petras tapped Commander Ford on the shoulder. "Please, sir," he requested, almost sounding humble. "But may I ride on the transport with lieutenant Adler. I have some medical training and I might be able to help." Jon Ford gave him a considering look before nodding his head slowly. The young native had kept Ari alive until the medics could get there. "I think I can arrange that," he answered. With a sigh, he looked at Trey, turned toward Tim who was stroking her hair gently. "He's right, you know," the XO said apologetically. "We can't afford an officer who keeps collapsing. Once they find out what's wrong, and treat it, then maybe she'll be able to return." "Not if Dogface has anything to say about it!" Trey accused bitterly. "Lt. Barlow!" Ford snapped, glad for the excuse to get upset. Trey pursed her lips angrily and cocked her head to one side. "Sorry, sir! I meant to say 'Captain Dogface', of course." She sighed and her face collapsed as if she would start to cry at any moment. Tim squeezed her shoulder. "Come on," he urged, pulling her away. "Let's go pack up her stuff. You know that she wouldn't want a stranger going through it." Ford flinched, hearing the echo of Ari's words to him when she begged for the assignment of cleaning out Miguel's cabin. Maybe if he'd refused her, as he should have, she wouldn't be lying helpless in the medbay. His eyes troubled, he watched Tim pulled Trey away, and knew that the quiet comm officer intended to offer more than comfort to the angry and grieving woman. Lucas stepped forward. "Commander? Ari is pregnant?" Ford shrugged. "That's what the captain said," he hedged. "But ... She told me she wasn't. Why would she lie about that?" The boy, no. The young officer looked confused, but so was the older one. Commander Ford shrugged again. "Perhaps she didn't want to believe it, Lucas. Perhaps, she thought if she ignored the problem, it would go away." His eyes felt very itchy. Lucas turned to go, mumbling a little as he went. "Yeah. Maybe that was it." But inside, Lucas wondered what he'd done wrong. Why hadn't she trusted him with her news? Had she been afraid that he'd reveal her secret? Had he pushed her too hard, too fast? But... But when she had begun crying in his arms, clinging to him ... How could he resist the temptation to ... Oh, hell. He'd definitely lost her now, he thought. Trey was right. Captain Hudson would never allow Ari Adler back onboard the seaQuest. She was too stubborn to yield an inch to his autocratic command style.
A familiar voice called out to Ari, and she veered toward it, hearing the sonorous, half familiar phrases as she neared. "When evildoers come at me to devour my flesh, my foes and enemies themselves stumble and fall ..." and the ravening pack fell behind her. "I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living..." Ari remembered hope and felt a renewal of strength. Each line of the psalms was like a missile thrown at the hunters behind, causing them to pause and howl. "He guides me in right paths, for his namesake. Even though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me." Now she could see the Portals of Darkness, standing still open, and feeling as though her heart were labouring, her breath coming hard into her lungs, she put on a burst of speed to make the goal. Cerberus sprang forward as she neared, and she started to swerve away, but the familiar voice contined, "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the House of the Lord forever." Ari followed it through, and the beast leapt upon her knocking her down and slavering all over her, devouring the vampiric ghosts that had remained attached to her body while she raced through the plains of hell. With dry sobs, she rolled away from the awful animal to collapsed just outside, conscious of her fear, and her failure. She had risked everything; her honour, her life, her soul, and all for nothing. Uncle Paul squatted down beside her, looking young and lithe and agile, a St. Paul deLegardi she'd only ever seen in ancient photographs. "Well, you have made a mess of things, haven't you?" he commented dryly in his light tenor voice. That was just the same. Ari looked up suddenly. "I had to try," she croaked. Absently, she rubbed the closing wound on her arm, the dark liquid oozing out slowly. "He's still in there. Or out here. I couldn't find him." "Of course not, you silly girl," St. Paul replied bracingly, standing up again and offering her his hand to help her up. "You're looking in the wrong place. When you stop emoting and think it through logically, then you will know where to find him. Now, stop acting so stupidly and go along home. Andrew is waiting for you." Without thinking about it, Ari took the proffered help, realizing only a few seconds later that it was solid enough for her to grasp. She looked at him with amazed eyes and he smiled at her surprise. "Andrew gives me much reality in the afterlife," he answered her unspoken question. "As do your memories of me, my dear." Pausing uncertainly, he frowned, pursed his lips and then shook his head slightly. "Rien? Do you suppose you might be able to spare a bit more blood, in return for information." Ari blinked, remembering that blood had given shades the power of prophecy in centuries past. With a short sigh, she extended her arm. "If you wish to drink, Uncle Paul, then please, feel free. My blood is your blood." He smiled and shook his head. "I don't need it, but there is another here, with a story you should know." Turning around, he surveyed the circling shades, and Ari, noticing them for the first time, cringed back, afraid of another attack. Seeing his prey, Uncle Paul whistled and like a dog coming to his master, afraid of punishment, one separated from the amorphous mass and slunk toward them. For a moment, Ari stared in puzzlement, almost recognizing the ferret-like shape. Then it stood up and she shook her head. "I know you," she faltered. He sneered at her, pleased with her confusion. Too tired to work it through, she looked up at her uncle. "Who is this?" "His name's Souter," he answered shortly. "He knows something you need to know, too. Don't you, Jimmy." She looked at him again, and her eyes widened as she remembered. "You tried to rape me, didn't you, you creep," she reminded him. He puffed up proudly. "And I whipped you instead," she continued. The shade opened his mouth and moved it, but no words came. "He needs a taste of blood before he can speak," Uncle Paul reminded her. Once again, with great reluctance, Ari extended her arm, the blood welling sluggishly from the rapidly closing cut. In a heartbeat, the spirit of Jimmy Souter, wannabe rapist and smuggler, fastened his lips to it and began to suck, his grey ashen cheeks growing pinker and rounder as he drank. St. Paul watched him with disgust and pity mixed, then slapped him away. "That's enough. Now, your part of the contract. Answer her questions." "She aint asked any," the petulant petty crook whined. "Ari?" He nodded toward the unsavoury figure. "How did you get here?" Ari asked curiously. "You were a young man, you don't look much older than I remember." Jimmy snorted his contempt. "Shows what you know, don't it?" he snarled at her. St. Paul raised his hand threateningly and Souter jerked away, raising his shoulder in defense. "Awright, awright. He kilt me. Me and Cireson both. The boss sent us away, 'to safety' the prancing pommie said, but the sub was fixed and we went down. Weren't no nice aliens around to get us back. No sirree, not for me and Cireson." "Who was the boss?" Ari probed. "You told me at the time it was Cireson." "Naw, weren't never him. Bourne, the posh toff. He set it all up. He and his backer, don't know who that was. They got almost all the money, too, 'cept what Bourne laundered back into the domes. They got rich, and I got to breathe water. I tell you, there aint no fairness in the world, now is there." He looked at her hungrily. "This here talkin's wearin' me out. Give me another drink and I'll..." He made a snatch for her arm, but Uncle Paul pulled her out of the way with a shake of his head. "You don't want to do that," he advised her grimly, glaring at the unfortunate underling, "Or you'll give him a leash to follow you into the upper world and haunt you." Ari shuddered at the thought. "Now that you know what you are looking for, you can find the proof, Rien. So, it's time for you to go. Follow the path, there, and don't look back. And Irene, tell Andrew, I still love him. And I'm still waiting for him, just as I promised." "I will uncle. And I love you, you know." He smiled and nodded. "I know. Goodbye, Rien," and he began to fade. "WAIT! What are you doing...." but he was gone. Her shoulders slumping, Ari began to climb the narrow path of light through the dark waters of death. The light grew and grew around her until it swallowed up the darkness. For a while, Ari just lay there, unmoving. But finally, curiousity drove her to open her eyes into the bright, cheerful room, early morning sunlight streaming in through a window in one wall. An elderly man slumped asleep in one visitor's chair, while a bright-eyed young man leaned forward excitedly toward her in the other as her eyes opened, his handsome features lit up with a relieved and happy smile. "So, you have returned, Ariki," he greeted her in a low voice, careful not to disturb his companion. "You are lucky." Ari nodded, tried to agree and stopped, appalled by the rough croaking sound that emerged from her throat. Duv laughed quietly and got out of the seat to pour a glass of water, holding her up so that she might drink. She remembered another time, her throat almost this sore, when a darkly handsome young man had held the cup for her and she pushed his hands away, covering her face with her own. Andrew pulled himself awake and sat on the other side of the bed, taking the cup from Duv Petras, forcing it to her lips. This brought only memories of childhood illnesses and Ari drank obediently. then she remembered again and pushed the glass away so she could speak. "I failed. Oh, Andrew. I failed. I told myself I was doing it for all of them. That I didn't want them all to be trapped forever in death, but really... I wanted to ... to see Miguel again. I wanted to make sure that he was ... That I would see him later. But, I couldn't find him. I couldn't find him." Dry sobs racked her body, still too dry to produce the tears she needed. Andrew patted her back lightly, as though afraid she would break if he touched her too hard, and he whispered soothing nothings into her hair. Duv knelt beside the bed, leaning his elbows on the mattress. "They attacked you?" he asked with professional curiousity. "The angry, evil spirits beyond the door?" Ari nodded, reluctant to remember that. "How did you escape?" he persisted. "Uncle Paul. My great-uncle called me back through the portals and Cerberus snatched the ones that were already attached back off me." She looked up at Andrew. "He said that he still loves you. And he's still waiting." Andrew gave her a wan smile, his eyes bright with unshed tears. He shook his head with wonder. "He promised that he would, so that he could help me when my time came. I told him not to be foolish, but ..." He kissed Ari's forehead. "Is that all he said, little one?" "No..." her voice trailed off and her brow wrinkled with puzzlement. "He also told me I was looking in the wrong places. That I had to stop emoting and acting stupidly, and start thinking logically. I ... I don't understand." A nurse entered the room, and surveyed the scene. "I think that's enough," he declared. "You two, out of here. The doctor has ordered plenty of rest for the lieutenant here." As her visitors left the room, the nurse stuck a thermometer on her forehead and checked her blood pressure. Giving a grunt of satisfaction, he nodded and made some notations on a board. "Do you need to use a bedpan," he asked with rough courtesy. Ari shook her head. "Could you help me to the bathroom instead," she asked plaintively. He gave a small smile and helped her up. Feeling weaker even than she had on arriving inside the hollow hill of Nashega, fresh from the transport of the Hyperions, Ari managed by herself while he remade her hospital bed. Lying back gratefully on the freshly changed sheets, Ari thought again of Uncle Paul's odd words. She was seeking Miguel in the wrong places. 'Oh Miguel,' she thought mournfully. 'Where are you?' And then, she was asleep.
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