Title: Second Descent

Author: kimurho

Rating: PG

Genre: seaQuest 2032 Ari Adler AU

Series: To Dare Cerberus; previous episodes are "Portals of Darkness" and "What dreams may come"

website: www.geocities.com/xmp_/timeline.html

archive permission granted

respond to xmp@empire.net

Warnings: violence, adult themes

This story takes place in a seaQuest universe where Ensign Ari Adler joined the crew shortly after Playtime, but the seaQuest and her crew do not appear in the story at all, except for some minor mentions. This is a story about Ari Adler.

Synopsis: Ari knows where Miguel is and realizes that he needs help. But some unfinished business interrupts her on her way to rescue him.

Comments: this is a work in progress and the overall rating will change in later segments.

Disclaimer: seaQuest 2032 was conceived by Rockne S. O'Bannon and belongs to Amblin Television and Universal Television. I am using the name and some of the characters who appeared on the show without permission and without remuneration.

Personally, I think they dropped the ball when they left Miguel Ortiz behind in the 3rd season and this entire story line is my attempt to redress the wrong.


SECOND DESCENT
by kimurho
==========

She had enough presence of mind to be grateful that the ladies room in the Orlando International Airport was scrupulously clean before another spasm shook her, bending her over the toilet bowl she was kneeling in front of, retching futilely as her stomach tried to turn itself inside out. Only bile came out. She'd emptied her stomach in the first three spasms.
Behind her she could hear the indignantly judgemental tones of the two tourists she'd pushed past on her rush to get into the stall before she thoroughly embarassed herself.

"This is an outrage! It shouldn't be allowed, letting people like that in here." The door closed behind them, cutting off the rest of the rant.

Lieutenant Ari Adler, late of the UEO vessel seaQuest, laughed weakly, her humor turning into weak sobs as tears filled her eyes. They thought she was drunk. She almost wished she was. It was better than this bout of killer butterflies that were attacking her at the thought of another flight. She was still weak from her dream adventures in Hell, which had left her in an unexplained coma for several days, prompting her removal from the UEO's most powerful submarine. Not that Captain Hudson needed much of an excuse.

Deciding that her stomach might cooperate, she slowly, cautiously regained her feet, leaning heavily on the side of the stall. She stood there for a few seconds, waiting to see if it was safe to return to her seat.

It was for the best, though. Now that she thought she knew where her fiance, Miguel Ortiz, had ended up when the alien Hyperions had returned the ship and her crew to earth, there was no way anyone was going to stop her from going to him. This just made it easier.

Taking a deep breath, Ari slowly headed for the bathroom exit. Walking made her abused stomach hurt, so she crouched over slightly, trying to ease the pain. Her seat had been taken in her absence, but an older woman, sympathy shining in her eyes, yielded hers to the aching young woman. Nodding her thanks, Ari sat and closed her eyes.

She had to get her mind off her flight. One thing that might be aggravating her fear of flying was the knowledge that what she was doing was forbidden by UEO mandate and United States law. Ordinary citizens were forbidden to enter territory held by the so-called Macronesian Alliance, and UEO officers, especially those who had had access to classified secrets were doubly denied. If her destination were known, she could be arrested and tried for treason.

Firmly, she turned her mind away from that, thinking instead of Miguel as she'd last remembered seeing him, the two of them working some routine maintenance on an underwater sensor satellite attached to the seaQuest. That had been ten years ago. Ten years lost because some alien race decided to kidnap the submarine for use in their civil war. Lost, but not lived.

The seaQuest had turned the tide of the battle, and the side that had won had been properly grateful. It had been a sacrifice move, and all of them had been lost in the play, but, using stolen technology, the aliens had been able to revive most of the ship's crew. Most, but not all. And that was where the pain began. Because they hadn't even had the sense to return them to the place they'd stolen them from. In a warped desire to reward the crew that had won the victory for them, the Hyperions had placed each person down on earth at the site of their last peaceful thought before 'dying', without any memory of where they'd been or how they'd gotten there. And because they didn't approve of war, since their own was won, they'd put the submarine in the middle of a continent.

Slowly, the crew had collected from the far corners of the earth, only learning who would not return by their absence. The one man who still remembered their stay on the alien planet didn't even care enough to give a list of those who had been unrevivable, and, most painful of all, no one cared. They didn't even care that friends, and more than friends, were absent.

None of them except Ari.

But then, for her, most of the missing were not absent. For her, the seaQuest was a ghost ship, haunted by the spirits of mangled friends. For almost a month, she could see them, hear them, and, at times, relive their death agonies as they were burned, crushed, pierced. She experienced Miguel's death by drowning, reliving his dying thoughts. And then, she'd experienced her own.

With the help of a polynesian shaman, a refugee from Macronesia, she managed to lay the spirits of the seaQuest dead, descending into Hades, facing the three headed dog guarding the portals of darkness and even meeting her own uncle, who'd died shortly before the kidnapping. But she hadn't met Miguel. She hadn't been able to touch his spirit at all. She hadn't been able to say goodbye.

Grieving and heartbroken, she'd given up then. She woke up to find herself in a Florida hospital, temporarily relieved of duty until she was well enough to be reassigned. Among her visitors had been Miguel's mother.

It had been difficult to face the woman whose son she had loved so much. She told her about Miguel's last minutes. How bravely he'd fought to safeguard Earth. How he'd thought of his mother and sisters, praying that God would watch over them since he couldn't. Ari hadn't told her of his very last thoughts, those were private moments, the first time that she and he had been intimate.

And that was when she knew, with a certainty beyond anything she'd every known, where he was.

They'd been on a picnic inside a grotto entered underwater. A grotto located on the coast of Australia, in the heart of Macronesia. A grotto with no other exit. And Ari knew that she had to get there before it was too late.

It was a simple matter for her to activate an alternate identity card. The ticket in her pocket was made out to Renee St. Paul, a French citizen employed by DeLeMar Underwater Industries. Ostensibly, she was going to Australia to look into the possibility of continuing some projects that were halted during the recent unrest. A brief stopover in Rio de Janiero to transfer to an airline that could travel into the interdicted territory, another at Tahiti for refueling and to let off passengers, then on to Australia. She'd be traveling ... No. She suppressed this train of thought as her stomach began to tighten again with apprehension.

Just then, her flight was called, and she gratefully joined the queue at the loading door.

The flight was uneventful. Managing to keep down some limon soda, Ari dared to nibble on a package of crackers as well, refusing anything heavier. Then, worn out from lack of sleep due to worry and a queasy stomach, for the first time in her life, she fell asleep on an airplane.



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Doctor Hermanos stopped in front of the closed door, blocking entry to the uniform clad officer following him closely. He turned, trying once again to reason with his employer.
"She hasn't regained consciousness, yet. I want to wait until the sedative has worked its way out of her system before I give her the ..."

Supreme General Carlos Miguel interrupted imperiously, glaring at the hapless man. "You will do as I tell you, doctor! Or I will find someone else to head this hospital."

Reluctantly, the physician yielded, opening the door and standing aside so that the leader of the Amazonian Confederation could preceed him.

General Miguel had been a handsome man in his youth, with dark latin looks, snapping brown eyes, thick, straight hair. Even now, some traces of that remained, but twelve years of near absolute rule had left its mark on him. His eyes, almost piggish in the overly round face, gleamed with greedy satisfaction as they looked down on the unconscious Ari Adler. Turning his head, he snapped at the motionless doctor.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

Helplessly, Dr. Hermano tried one last time. "The sedative ... She's been out too long. If she's having some kind of reaction to the drug used ... If there's a drug interaction... I can't be responsible for the consequences. This could kill her. Or leave her sterile, unable to conceive or carry to term."

"You told me that the tests were positive," the general purred dangerously. Swallowing heavily, the doctor nodded. "Then do it! The sooner that bastard is dead, the sooner she can recover from the dishonor of having carried it."

He smiled, horribly, looking possessively down at the slight figure, a sheet covering the leg and arm restraints that he knew were there because he'd ordered them specifically.

"You'll not escape me easily this time," he murmured softly, his words meant only for the girl who could not hear them. "This time, you will make good on your promise to marry me. This time, I will not be so foolish as to refuse what I am offered."

He watched with satisfaction as the doctor bared one of the young woman's arms, swiped it with alcohol and inserted a needle. Slowly, he pushed the plunger down, and the liquid within entered her bloodstream, her own life's blood speeding its poison through her body.



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Ari woke from one nightmare into another. She opened her eyes on a white room, sterile, antiseptic, impersonable. Another hospital room. For a second, she closed her eyes, groaning softly, then she tried to get up.
Padded straps at her wrists and ankles stopped her, held her fast. Alarmed now, she tugged, trying to get free, but they held her fast. The door opened and she looked up and became very still.

General Miguel smiled beatifically at his captive.

"You're finally awake," he observed inanely. "It's about time. You had my medical staff worried, you know." Without waiting for an invitation, he walked in and sat in the one visitor's chair the room boasted, reaching over to touch her. Ari jerked her head away. Smiling and shaking his head slightly, he reached further and touched her hair, smoothing it down. He seemed pleased rather than otherwise with her reaction.

"I always knew you would be back," he told her softly, hitching himself closer and continuing to caress her hair. Ari shrank back as far as she could go, unable to avoid his touch. "After you left me last time, I had people dig up everything available about you, Lieutenant Adler." He laughed qietly, his eyes crinkling at her.

"Irene Adler. Renee St. Paul. One and the same. And to think that I actually believed you were the simple teacher of the handicapped that you pretended. You won't fool me that way again. I know all about you, Irene." He pronounced it properly, three syllables, air-ren-nay. She shuddered and his smile grew.

"I learned that you always honor your promises and you never give up. I thought that you were dead, you know. Lost with the seaQuest. I even married while you were gone. But as soon as I heard that the seaQuest was found, I knew you'd come back to me. And you have."

His face hardened and the hand that had been sliding down her cheek grabbed her face hard.

"Carrying another man's bastard!" he ground out, slapping her with his other hand hard enough for her to see stars. He turned her face and hit the other cheek, then captured one of the tears running down it on a careful finger, raising it to his lips and tasting her sorrow. His sensitive, mobile lips, incongruously attractive still, twitched into a gentle smile.

"But it doesn't matter. I know that you are mine. And there's nothing to worry about. I've already taken care of it. You don't need to worry about a thing."

Finally, she found her voice. It wavered, sounding very much unlike hers, as she asked, "What do you mean? What are you talking about? I'm not... I'm not pregnant."

General Miguel gave a low chuckle.

"You won't be for long," he promised. Holding her head still, he leaned forward and kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth as she fought the intrusion. Releasing her, he stood up and headed for the door. He stopped just short of it and turned to face her again.

"I had hoped to be with you when you were transfered to the Residence, but some foolish people are protesting against the government and I must see to putting them down. Don't worry, querida. You will be well guarded." And he left.

Ari took a deep breath, fighting for calm. He was mad. He had to be. What did he mean, she wouldn't have worry about being pregnant. She wasn't pregnant. The only man she'd ever had sex with was Miguel and that once they'd used protection. Except for dreams. Since she'd been back, her unconscious had relived that experience over and over again as it struggled to come to terms with his loss. He was the only man she loved. The only man she'd ever been with either in the flesh or in her imagination.

Except for the dream she'd had just after she'd felt her own death. But that didn't really count. She'd been drunk on some weird brandy at the time and, anyway, it had been just another dream. A stupid, embarassing, irrelevant dream.

She heard one of the straps begin to rip when the door opened again. Dr. Hermano, pristine in his white coat and pants, supervised four big, burly soldiers as they wheeled the hospital gurney out of the room and down the hall, folding it up and slipping it into an armoured transport, Ari still secured on top. The four of them positioned themselves around her, sitting on the benches on either side, and the doors clanged shut behind them.

One of them made a suggestion in Portuguese, too fast for Ari to understand it, but his accompanying gesture made his meaning fairly plain. Another responded and leaned over, starting to pull the sheet off her with one hand while the other fumbled with his belt. Ari froze with terror, closing her eyes in the atavistic hope that it would all go away. Before she was too far uncovered though, a third reached over and stopped the lecherous soldier, saying, very slowly and with quiet emphasis, "Try it and you can kiss little Braulio goodbye." He added something about 'o Supremo' and 'singing soprano' for good measure.

Disgruntled, the other men leaned back. Ari hoped that the trip would end soon. Lying on her back, tied to a bed with four soldiers ogled her while the vehicle she was in rattled off to an unknown destination was not her idea of a good time. And the killer butterflies were back, worse than ever. With any luck, they'd settle down as soon as the car stopped moving, and once she found out where they were heading, she could start making a plan to escape.

The increasing agony in her midsection made it impossible for Ari to judge the passage of time. It could have been fifteen minutes after they'd started moving or three times that, but the car hit a particularly nasty bump, there was a loud noise and they went flying as it spun over. The cautious soldier threw himself on top of Ari as they rolled so that she and the gurney fell on top of him. Losing the battle, she began to retch, unable to bring anything up except foul bile. The man underneath her didn't react, but one of his fellow soldiers kicked at her.

The back doors flew open and she heard several shots then a gabble of speech that she was too miserable to try to understand. Rough hands pulled her out, bed and all, and dirty, bearded faces gazed down at her with rude sympathy as they undid the straps. They tried to stand her up, but the pain in her stomach flared up and she collapsed as one of them picked her up and carried her away.

There was a rush of sound from the overturned armored vehicle, a flash of heat and finally, the flicker of flames, warm on her face as the unknown men jogged away, Ari bumping over the shoulder of one.

She must have lost consciousness. The next thing she knew, she was on a bloody blanket in a corner of a dark and dirty room. A group of men and women clustered around a table in the middle, lit by candles, examining something on the surface and arguing. One, the one not tryng to make himself heard, raised his head as Ari sat up, looking around. Leaving the others, he went over.

"You're awake."

Dumbly she nodded. The man turned and gestured and a young, pretty woman brought a cup of hot liquid over. Ari accepted it gratefully and sipped the thick broth slowly while the man watched her. She studied him as well, trying to pin down the sense of familiarity.

"You are Renee St. John?" he asked. After a pause, she nodded. "Do you know why the supreme pig kidnapped you from the airport?"

Ari shook her head, asking, "Did he?"

"Yes. According to the news accounts, you were in a coma and you have died in the hospital. Due to some bureaucratic mix-up, your body has been cremated. But now I see that you are here and don't look even the slightest bit charred. And I have to wonder why? Why would General Miguel risk an international incident to get you?"

Ari sighed, putting down the half empty cup and leaning back, wincing a little with the pain in her gut. She wondered if there was poison in the soup, but she'd seen the woman pour it from a common pot. Putting that fear away, she tried to remember everything she knew about Brazil, ten years out of date, and mostly learned from Miguel after her own adventure with the General. And then she knew why she recognized the man.

Her eyes opened wide, staring at his face with stunned surprise.

"You're Malique, Miguel's friend," she blurted out, then cursed herself quietly for acting so precipitously.

He nodded, suspicion in his face.

"I'm Malique," he admitted. "But I know many Miguels, including that pig of a general. So which one claims me for a friend."

Ari caught her breath. She shouldn't break cover, but she had to win his trust if he was to help her get away from the authorities. She decided to trust him. Miguel had.

"Miguel Ortiz of the seaQuest. He showed me your picture a while ago. Of course, you were twelve years younger then, but still, it was you. He told me all about what you two did."

Malique's mouth twisted up with pain and disgust.

"Miguel Ortiz. Well, that's a safe call since he's dead and can't contradict you." He leaned forward, grabbing a handful of hair and forcing her head back as he pushed his face into hers. "In case you haven't heard, the seaQuest disappeared with all hands ten years ago."

"She was found a few weeks ago in a field in Wisconsin. Hadn't you heard? Most of her crew appeared afterwards, in various places around the world."

He glared at her, his eyes narrowed as he sifted through her words.

"And Miguel?"

Ari shook her head, fighting back tears.

"He didn't show up, but he's not dead. He's just... he can't get out of where he is. I've got to go let him out. Please, if I don't hurry, he could die. I have to get to him."

Her obvious distress satisfied some of Malique's doubts, but not all. He was preparing to ask her more questions when there was a flurry of activity and a professional looking woman appeared, carrying a bag.

"Dr. Sapfira. This is the tourist we found. She's been bleeding badly."

Ari looked around herself with surprise, only now aware that the bright red blood staining the blanket was hers. Dr. Sapfira shooed Malique away and began her examination, pressing Ari back gently and starting to undo her pants. She looked over her shoulder toward the table, rapping out a series of commands in rapid fire Portuguese. A short time later, the corner was partioned off from the rest of the room by hanging sheets and blankets and Ari was wearing a loose, unbuttoned shift, while the doctor examined her, probing her stomach and groin with professional detachment.

It hurt. Bad. And the pain was increasing again,. Finally, satisfied, the doctor rocked up onto her feet and stood, calling out for a bowl of wash water. She looked down on Ari and shook her head sadly.

"I'm afraid that you are losing the baby," she said in English. Ari blinked, dumbly shaking her head. "I'm sorry."

"No. That's not possible. There is no baby. I'm not pregnant. I can't be pregnant." Suddenly, she understood and relief made her giddy. Starting to laugh, she tried to explain.

"It's... I had a bad implant removed a few months ago. I'm not... It's just my first menses in five years. I'm not .... There is no baby." Tears sprang into her eyes at the thought of how silly the doctor must feel. And General Miguel.

She said the name aloud, and silence fell. Malique thrust a sheet aside, glaring down at her. After one outraged gasp, Ari started fumbling iwth the buttons on the shift.

"What about General Miguel?" he asked coldly.

"Nothing. Except that he thought I was with child as well. He told me that he was going to take care of it, that I didn't have to worry about it. Stupid." She frowned, remembering. "No. He said that he'd already taken care of ..." A spasm doubled her up, crying out with the pain. Malique caught her before she fell. He and the doctor talked for a moment and Ari understood the gist that the doctor thought she was miscarrying, and that she needed a warm quiet place until it was over. Malique protested that she was nothing to them.

The discussion was interrupted by a runner, bursting into the room, yelling, "He's invading the favelas! Run! The army is invading!"

Hurried curses answered him as the rebels grabbed up what they could and left. Malique lunged forward and lifted Ari up, half carrying, half dragging her out. The doctor had been one of the first to go.

"Where... ? Where are you taking me?" she asked breathlessly.

"Somewhere safe," he answered cryptically, saving his own breath for escape.

She could hear the sounds of someone following. Coldly, she realized that they could not both get away. Without her, Malique had a chance. With her, he would die a traitors death.

"Leave me," she gasped. "If the general wants me, he won't harm me. And if Miguel is dead, I don't want to live. So leave me."

But Malique refused, trying to lose the tail in the confused alleys of the slum town. Ari wanted to applaud his bravery, but she was just too tired. Using some tricks Brody had taught her, she kicked and hit him until he dropped her, rolling away so that he couldn't easily pick her up again and screaming, "GO! JUST LEAVE ME!"

For a moment, she was afraid that he wouldn't do as she said, but then, looking around rapidly, he ran off. Alone for the moment, Ari drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them close and waited. And blood mixed with the dirt underneath.




Chapter 2

A moonless night, the empty beach was dark, only the glow from the city lighting up the sky. Malique waited, watching the dark waves intently, even though he knew that he wouldn't see anything until they were already there. Other members of his team watched the land, but Malique was the one who would have to make the contact.
Finally, he heard the sounds that he'd been waiting for. High pitched squeals, splashes. A dark shape rose up out of the surf, silhouetted against the horizon. It didn't wade in closer, but began to do something in the waist high water. He'd brought in more supplies after all. Malique whispered a curt order and several of his men followed him as he cautiously stepped out of the concealing vegetation..

Caesar Teslof took care of his dolphins first, removing the lines that connected the pods to their harnesses, checking for sores or injuries. His foster father tried to tell him, again and again, to make sure that Malique was the one waiting for him, but that was ridiculous in his opinion. Malique was told when and where he, Caesar, would be coming in. So anyone waiting there would be Malique. It wasn't as though Caesar could recognize him, after all. Almost all people looked alike to him.

Malique gave a resigned sigh as the supply pods began to drift back out. If it weren't for his commandoes splashing after there, they would have been lost. If he'd had any doubts at all, that one bit of supreme indifference would have informed him that this was the CIA operative he'd been waiting for. He shook his head, chuckling quietly to himself. It was getting to the point that if Teslof did give the appropriate passwords and counters, he'd suspect a ringer.

"Caesar," he said quietly, greeting the slender, pale-skinned, dark haired twenty one year old youth. He was wearing a long wet-suit, cut away along both sides of the back to reveal long scars running on either side of his spine, stretching around to the front.

"Malique?"

The rebel leader nodded, amused anew with the questioning lilt in the younger man's voice. He'd seen Caesar recognize a dolphin up to a year after seeing it in passing for half a second, but pass by someone he saw everyday without recognizing them.

"I've got something I want you to check for me," Malique said quickly while he had his attention. Caesar's companion dolphins were beginning to swim away and he knew that he only had a brief time to get his message across.

He took the passport assigned to Renee St. Paul out of his pocket and handed it over. Caesar looked at it incuriously, puzzling it out.

"See what you can find out about this woman for me," he directed. "General Miguel had her kidnapped from her flight and taken to a local hospital. We managed to free her, but the militia attacked the favela and she was recaptured. I need to know why...?"

Before Malique could stop him, Caesar lit a penlight, and trained it on the photo with a sharp intake of breath.

"That's Ari," he said flatly.

Malique stared at him, surprised by the unexpected response.

"Ari? Ari who? She said her name was Renee."

"Ari Darwin's friend. Where is she? Is she here?"

Without waiting for an answer, he splashed out further into the water, and Malique rolled his eyes. Time up. But instead of diving into the surf after the disappearing animals, Caesar stood still and the dolphins returned, faster than they'd left. After several minutes, he removed the harness from one of them, which took off at top speed. Then, carrying the harness, he returned to where Maliqu watched, too surprised and curious to leave.

"Where is Ari?" he asked, sounding forceful.

"Umm, General Miguel has her hostage." He tried to regain control of the meeting. "Look Caesar, this is important. The General kidnapped that woman from the airport. She's being held at the residence. I need to know who she is and why he took her prisoner. Don't forget."

"I won't forget," he promised, his voice hard. "The dolphinkiller has Air Darwin's friend again. Is she hurt?"

Malique blinked with surprise at the show of concern the other man usually reserved for one of his dolphins.

"Umm, I... Last I saw her, she was bleeding badly. Maybe dangerously. I don't know."

"Find out. Find out everything you can. She can help bring the dolphinkiller to justice."

Making sure that the passport was tightly sealed in a pouch, he ran back into the water, diving smoothly. The gills implanted along his sides opened when the moisture hit them and began to function. One of his friends bumped up to him, asking what Malique had said, and Caesar took hold of his harness, letting the dolphin pull him along while he manipulated the dolphin communications device in the belt of his suit. He wished his foster father would let him have the surgery done on his vocal cords so that he didn't have to use the sound generator, but Malcolm Lansdowne held the opinion that having gills and a hearing aid implanted was far enough. He pointed out that if Caesar had his vocal cords altered, he wouldn't be able to speak to other humans, but that was a non-argument in the opinion of the young man.

Both the gills and the ear implant had come in useful over the past three years, since Malique had launched his rebellion against General Miguel's corrupt regime. Caesar didn't know why Malcolm or even the United States government was opposed to the dolphinkiller, but his friends wanted the man dead and destroyed and that was enough of a reason for him to get involved. Some of the dolphins that had been tortured had ended up at the Caicos Dolphin Research facility, run by his foster father, and Caesar had seen for his own eyes the evil that the man had done.

Malique stood quietly on the again empty beach long after the strang young man had left, wondering several things. Caesar had called her 'Ari Darwin's friend', and at the moment, the only Darwin that the man could remember was the dolphin attached to the seaQuest. And the seaQuest had disappeared ten years ago.

Except; the woman, Ari or Renee or whoever she was, she'd mentioned Miguel of the seaQuest as well, as though she'd known him and known him well. If that were true, she must have been jailbait at the time. Shrugging, he turned to go. The sun was rising and it wouldn't be good to be caught on the beach by any of the military's goons. Caesar had said that he would return, with the information, so he'd know soon enough.

He disappeared into the shadows under the trees, trusting the tide to remove all signs of the covert operation.



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General Miguel sat with several of his aides while Col. Allan Jameson, his security officer, described the progress of the safety programs intended to prevent the rebels from obtaining either arms or support from traitorous armed military units.
"Once the program protocols are complete," he was saying when the intercom beeped for attention, "we'll be able to lock down all armories and all military barracks from this location."

General Miguel raised his hand, leaning over to open the channel. His secretary responded.

"Doctor Hermano to see you, sir." the intercom squawked.

The General looked around with worried alarm, gesturing imperiously.

"All you, leave. Send the doctor in."

Jameson, a former UEO officer, stayed behind to argue.

"You're making a mistake, Carlos," he warned with the familiarity of one who knows exactly where and how deep the bodies are buried. "This Adler broad is trouble. You can't trust her.

"I don't intend to trust her, Allan. I intend to bed her, breed her and marry her." While he was speaking, the outer door to his office opened and a uniformed guard showed Doctor Hermano in. The doctor winced, shaking his head cautionarily.

With a sharp look at the medical man's face, the general waved Jameson out. Reluctantly, he left.

"Well?" Gen. Miguel demanded. "It's been three days. How is she?"

Doctor Hermano swallowed heavily, his eyes darting around as though seeking an escape.

"Ahh, you may wish to change your plans, my general. She ... " The look on the general's face stopped him and he had to clear his throat before he could contnue.

"There was significant blood loss, general. I told you that at the time. Her blood pressure fell to dangerous levels before we started replacing it, and ... And certain cognitive areas of her brain were affected. She may never recover."

"Is she still fertile?"

The question wasn't one that the good doctor expected. After a few seconds of blinking rapidly, he was forced to admit ignorance.

"There is no way to tell at this time. The flow of blood is still heavy and examination is..."

"When will you know?" Gen. Miguel interrupted abruptly.

"Three weeks?" Hermano quessed.

"Can I see her?"

"General, you don't understand. She's an idiot. You don't want..."

"She may be an idiot, now, but she is a beautiful idiot and she will give me handsome, intelligent sons. In fact, your news today is the best I've heard since she was kidnapped by those criminals." He smiled unpleasantly to himself. He pushed himself away from the desk and stood up.

"I want to see her."

Bowing to the will of his leader, Dr. Hermano followed Gen. Miguel to the room that had been set up as a temporary sickroom. The generalissimo brushed aside the nurse on duty and threw open the door.

Ari sat cross-legged on the top of the hospital bed, wearing a short white gown, intent on writing something. At the sound of General Miguel's entrance, she looked up and smiled brightly.

"Hello. Are you another doctor?" she asked happily. Then she screwed her eyes shut and shook her head from side to side.

"Of course you aren't silly. You're not dressed like a doctor. Are you here because your tummy hurts? My tummy hurts." She nodded her head toward Dr. Hermano, half-hidden behind the dictator's bulk. "He's making it better."

General Miguel stared flabbergasted at the girl. He blinked, unable to find anything to say.

Her face changed, becoming sympathetic, and she slipped down, moving gingerly, and walked over to him to slip her hand into his and reach up to pat his face comfortingly.

"It's ok," she assured him earnestly. "It doesn't hurt that much so he must be good. I think I got applencider," she whispered confidentially. "That makes your tummy hurt a lot, my mummy says. That happened to one of Daddy's friends when they were out at sea. And Doc had to remove his apple."

Helplessly, Gen. Miguel turned to Dr. Hermano for help. The doctor sighed, pushed himself forward and held out his hand to Ari.

"Ok, Ree, back to bed. You know I told you you had to be quiet."

"I am quiet, aren't I, sir?" she asked, turning to the dictator for confirmation. "I was whispering, wasn't I?" She stuck her chin up at the doctor. "He's an officer, so what he says, is!"

The general took a deep breath. Still looking stunned, he shook his head at Hermano and began to lead Ari back to the bed.

"Yes, you were quiet," he told her soothingly, pulling back the covers to let her slip under them. "But I think that the doctor means you should lie down so your tummy can get better. Umm, do you know who you are?"

"Uh-huh! I'm Ree Adler," she answered with childish self-importance. "I live at 35 Rue Chantilly, Paris France with my mummy. She's Brigid Adler and she's the most beautiful mummy in the world and guess what? I'm gonna be a big sister. My daddy is away right now, we don't know where exactly, but he's the COB of the Seawolf."

"That's good. You're a very smart girl, Ree. Do you know how old you are."

She shook her head vigourously. "I'm six years old and I can read and write. Mummy says that's good." She smiled the happy, confident smile of a child who knows that she is loved.

"That is good," Gen. Miguel assured her, tucking her in. "Will you go to sleep, now? For me?"

She frowned, eyeing him suspiciously for the first time.

"Who are you?" she asked, sounding for a moment like her older self.

"I'm a friend of your parents. They asked me to look after you for a while. My name is Carlos Miguel."

With a regretful and shy smile, she ducked her head. "I like that name, but I gotta ask you for the password."

He shot a look over at the doctor, who shrugged ignorance. Taking a wild guess that she might remember something, he answered, "seaQuest?"

"Thass right," she yawned, closing her eyes and slipping one hand under her cheek, the other into his hand. "seaQuest." She began to hmm softly to herself, drifting back into sleep, holding on to his hand still.

"You see what I mean, sir?" Dr. Hermano said, with a sigh of exasperation. "A complete idiot."

"Keep your voice down. Do you want to wake her up?" he answered, whispering harshly. Smiling at the sleeping woman, Carlos Miguel reached out to brush back the hair from her face, humming a little as her droning faltered.

"Make the room off of mine ready," he ordered. "As soon as Ree doesn't need all this ... this equipment, I want her moved there."

"But sir...?" Hermano started to protest. "You could hurt her if you start ... too early. Before she's healed."

"What do you think I am? A monster? Of course I'm not going to sleep with her until she's healed. I want to be sure she's safe. Just in case."

Slowly, he pulled his hand free, pleased and flattered by the small frown of protest that crossed the sleeping face. He faced the doctor, still standing watching with bewildered apprehension.

"Let me know when Ree starts to wake. I want to be here." Without waiting for an answer, he walked past the doctor and out of the room, feeling much happier than he had when he went in.



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Malcolm Lansdowne gazed thoughtfully down at the photo on the passport, his face nostalgic and distant.
"It's a sad thing, when a man grows older and all the women younger," he mused to his foster son. Caesar looked at him blandly, waiting for some response that made sense. "Right, ok," Malcolm muttered, putting the id down again.

"You say Malique asked for information about Ari?"

Caesar nodded impatiently. They'd already gone over all this and he wanted to get back into the water.

"And you decided not to tell Captain Freedman?" the portly dolphin scientist continued, referring to Teslof's CIA contact. The young man shrugged, spreading his hands apart. "Good boy, I knew I raised you right. If Ari's there under cover, then she wouldn't want the authorities to know. The question is, who does know?" He frowned, his eyebrows rising dramatically. "And I can think of one man who might."

Pushing his swivel chair around, he activated a vidphone and made some connections. After getting several 'The party you want is not available at this number' messages, he grunted and exclaimed, "Come on Nathan and answer! I know you're there!"

Instantly, the wrong number screen vanished and Nathan Bridger's weather-tanned features appeared, wreathed in wrinkles of pleased recognition.

"Downy, you old scoundrel! How've you been?"

"Well, I was doing pretty good keeping my blood pressure down until I tried to get through to you!" he grumbled, For several minutes, they just visited, but finally, conscious of Caesar waiting impatiently out of viewer range, Lansdowne got down to business.

"I've got a question about one of your people," he said, flipping the passport open so that Nathan could see it. "She's in some kind of trouble in the Amazon Confederation. You have any idea what she's doing there?"

Shaking his head and sighing, the former captain of the UEO deep submergence vessel, seaQuest, shook his head.

"Can't help you, Downy. I'm retired. You might ask her CO. I think you remember him. Oliver Hudson? He's got command of the 'Quest now. I'm out of it entirely."

"Can you call on any of your section 8 connections to find ..."

"I'm out of it," Nathan repeated, his voice growing suddenly hard. "I'm retired. I'm a private citizen and I have no responsibility to any of them. If Adler's in trouble, talk to Oliver. Not me." He paused for a second, then, with a tone of finality said, "Goodbye Malcolm. It was good to talk to you. Call again when you aren't so busy." And the screen went blank.

Malcolm sat back heavily, his face totally blank as he continued to look at the empty screen. After several minutes, he gave a deep sigh and looked sadly over at his protege.

"I had heard he'd turned in on himself again, but I'd hoped it wasn't true. Ok, let's see what 'Jolly Olly' has to say."

All attempts to contact the seaQuest were denied due to the current, classified nature of their mission. When asked to state the nature of his desire to talk to Captain Hudson, Malcolm signed off. "I guess that's it," he told Caesar, the silent, invisible witness to all his attempts to find out more. "I looks like it's up to us."

Caesar leaned over and picked up the passport, folding it and replacing it in the sealed belt pouch.

"I could go to Captain Freedman?" he offered. Malcolm shook his head, thinking. "Malique will expect something," the young man reminded his mentor.

"Yes," the scientist answered, spinning himself around again and stopping in front of his computer monitor. "But I can provide what he needs. You go on and do what you have to. This time, when you go, I'm going too."

Caesar, on his way out the door, stopped and stared in frank amazement. In the ten years since seaQuest was lost, he'd continued to put on weight at a steady pace and now rarely left the research facility environs. He couldn't imagine the only father he remembered fitting into the single person, high speed submersible that he used for his forays down the coast of South America.

As if aware of his thoughts, Malcolm looked up and smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, son. I won't delay you. I'll follow topside in the Darwin," he said, naming the center's research vehicle. "I think you're going to need more back-up than your friends can provide." Caesar eyed him with obvious curiousity at that odd statement and Malcolm grinned, mischief removing the years.

"Considering what happened last time General Carlos Miguel tangled with Ari Adler, it's possible that the entire area is about to blow."



Chapter 3

General Miguel leaned forward eagerly as Allan Jameson demonstrated the features of the new security program in the Residence surveillance room.
"We've known for some time that the rebels have sympathizers even among the troops," the former UEO officer said, pressing keys. "With this new system, we can monitor all activities within the barracks ..." His voice trailed off as he became aware of Ree entering the room. He remained suspicious of the young woman, especially since the usually cynical and sexually jaded general showed all the classical signs of juvenile infatuation.

Ree, wearing a long, white nightgown with a high neck and carrying a book and a teddy bear, looked apprehensively around, then, seeing the general, her eyes lit up and she skipped into the room, making a wide circuit around the scowling Jameson.

"You promised to read me a bedtime story," she reminded him, leaning trustingly against his side and artfully twirling the top button of his uniform jacket.

"I know, querida, but I'm a little busy right now. Just let me finish up here and then I'll be with you," he replied with tolerant affection. Jameson sniffed audibly.

"Send her away," he ordered his superior officer brusquely. "She has no business in here at all."

General Miguel shot a glare at the other man. He deliberately drew Ree closer as she started to go, cuddling her against his side.

"Watch this, Ree," he said, and ignoring Jameson's start of indignation, he began to show Ree the way the security program worked. After a few moments, she squirmed away, bored.

"I want a story," she demanded petulantly, sticking her lower lip out. "I don't want that. I want a story."

With a rueful grin and shake of his head, General Miguel gave over his attempt to put Jameson in his place and pushed away from the monitor station. He started to shut the program down.

"Ah, Carlos? I still have to finish some initiation sequences?" the security officer reminded him. The general nodded and opened it again. He looked up as a thought occurred to him.

"By the way, Dr. Hermano will be in tomorrow to give Ree an examination. No blood for three days, so he thinks she should be healed enough for him to see what he has to."

"Come on," Ree insisted, tugging at his arm. "I want to go to bed now."

General Miguel blinked, and his face grew crafty. Instead of relinquishing the controls to Jameson, he scrolled down the menu until he came to an option labeled 'Residence'. Quickly, he disabled the a/v security in two rooms, locking them in place with his own personal code.

"I'm turning in for the night. If anything comes up, handle it. I don't want to be disturbed for any reason until the morning." He looked at Ree with a speculative smile, his eyes scanning her body up and down. "I'm going to be busy." Giving his subordinate a curt nod, he finally stood beside her. With one hand in the small of her back, he guided her out of the room.

Jameson gave a rude snort.

"About time, too," he said. "No good comes of coddling broads. None at all. If I'da done what I meant to to that Barlow dame when she first came...." Muttering to himself, he got down to work, his face a mask of disappointed jealous disapproval.



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The party was going in full swing. It wasn' toften that the Lost Boys had the opportunity to kick back and raise a ruckus and they were making the most of it.
Davide Desejosso sighed with resignation as he pushed the kitchen chair away from the table and the small, mobile aethyrnet computer on it. Malique had brought them to an abandoned estate, several miles away from the city, property of one of the many lost when the Macronesian's had hit the coast. While his compadres used the rest to get wasted, Davide had a more important task, hacking into the computers at the Residence. He closed the door against the noise and returned to his former position, poised and ready to type in whatever commands required.

Almost immediately, the door opened again. Exasperated, the young light-skinned man from the favela looked up, ready to give the intruder the rough side of his tongue, but the sight of his leader muted the protest. Malique carefully closed the door behind him.

"How's it going?" he asked, approaching the table and leaned over to peer into the screen himself. "Any progress?"

Davide sighed again, his attention returning to the screen where a password generation program was trying to work out the way into the military lock down program.

"Unless you count negative progress. I've got a dictionary of not-passwords." He shook his head, feeling helpless. "When we got word that Jameson was installing this, I thought 'great. piece of cake. just pop in lock down the barracks and break the armories wide open. no problem.'"

"Yeah, I remember you saying that," the other man answered. "I wasn't so sure."

"Well, now I think we are going to have to get some kind of inside help. Any word on the UEO officer in the Residence?" Malique shook his head grimly. Davide winced.

"From the briefs we've been getting lately, I thought she was some kind of super secret agent."

"Yeah, but ..." Malique took a deep breath and let it out, his face showing his uncertain feelings. He looked at the door, to make sure it was tightly shut, and leaned over.

"Look, I don't want this to get around, but I think Caesar might have been compormised."

Davide raised his eyebrows. "Dolphinboy? How?"

Malique have his head a quick, hard shake. He stood up and started to pace.

"I don't know. There's nothing I can really put my finger on except... I don't know. But, take this insistence that we wait for the girl to make a move, to get in touch with us. We've had operatives try to pass word to her, and they say she is totally non-compos. A complete idiot. I sent that on, and they came back with 'sit and wait'. We got hold of her medical records. She's never going to recover her full wits, Davide. But I still get 'sit and wait'."

Davide looked thoughtful. It was a breath-taking honor, for Malique to confide in him. He'd admired the older man even before he'd rescued him from certain death twelve years ago, along with the other so-called 'Lost Boys'. When the rest of them were being schooled and taught to fight, Malique had gone to special programs. He was different. Their leader. And Davide didn't want to say anything stupid to him now.

"Maybe ... Maybe it's all a long-term sting operation?" he suggested diffidently. "You know, she's a mole, getting into position to strike?"

Malique winced but nodded, agreeing that was a possibility.

"Or someone's sold us out," he added bitterly.

Shaking himself to dispell the dark thoughts, he managed a crooked smile and patted the other man on the shoulder.

"Oh, well, nothing we can do now. Keep trying Davide. Something's got to give."

He left a troubled computer hacker behind him when he walked out of the room. After a few seconds of staring blankly at the screen, the young man sighed and leaned forward. With computers, he knew exactly where he was.



Chapter 4

Getting himself settled into the oversized, comfortable stuffed chair in his bedchamber, General Miguel drew Ree down into his lap, only then looking at the book she carried. He couldn't restrain a low groan at the title.
"Christian's 'Little Mermaid'?" he complained. "Look, querida, why not let me read the other one?" Leaning over, he found the brightly coloured, illustrated pasteboard book and held it up. Ree shook her head stubbornly, clutching her choice with determined fingers.

"That's not real!" she announced scornfully. "This is. I want what's real."

"But I've read that one every night for the past week. Wouldn't you like something different?" He held up another book enticingly.

Looking mulish, the young woman shook her head, hugging the chosen book to her chest. With a sigh, the general gave in, and sat back, taking it from her and opening to the beginning.

"'Far, far from land, where the waters are as blue as the petals of the cornflower...'" he read. Ree snuggled down in his lap, laying her head against his shoulder so she could watch the pages as he turned them. A couple of times, he tried skipping sections of the story, but she caught him at it and forced him to go back.

"'Again she looked at the prince; her eyes were already glazed in death. She threw herself into the sea and felt her body changing into foam. The sun rose out of the sea, it's rays felt warm and soft...'"

Ree made a soft, contented sound and Carlos Miguel paused gazing down at her curiously, thinking she was about to say something. She looked up at him fiercely, shaking her head and pointing to the page.

"...'For every tear we shed, God adds a day to the three hundred years we must already serve.' The end. Querida, I have to tell you, that is not a happy story."

"Yes it is," she replied blithely, slipping out of his lap with a peculiar skip and retrieving the book with a proprietal air. She walked over to the bathroom connecting their two rooms, still speaking as she tried to explain. Carlos Miguel followed her.

"She did what she had to and that gave her a chance to become more than she was. Besides, that's the way mermaids act."

"But she didn't marry the prince and live happily ever after."

For a few moments, the young woman who only thought of herself as Ree looked her age as mature sadness touched her features.

"Sometimes, ... It just doesn't work out that way," she replied. As she sighed, the general felt a tightening in his heart, a coldness settling in. If she remembered who she was, she'd leave him. He took a step closer. Ree glanced up at him suddenly, her mood shifting mercurially.

"Are you ok, Carlos Miguel?" she asked teasingly. "You going to fall down?"

He thought for a second, then nodded judiciously. "Yes, I think I am going to fall down." And he did, one hand swooping out to pull Ree down on the bed with him, both of them laughing and giggling. He had discovered the ridiculous fact that she was extremely ticklish and as he pressed his advantage, she grabbed up one of her pillows and began to pummel him.

With a lion's roar, he pulled her weapon away, throwing it out of reach and he pinned her to the bed. Ree squirmed under him, still laughing and playing, but he lost all sense of play, immediately serious as he studied her. Picking up his mood, Ree stopped struggling, watching him curiously as she tried to figure out what he was up to.

He kissed her, his need driving him to a roughness he didn't intend. With his body holding hers down, his hands holding her wrists, Ree's immediate struggle didn't have much affect. She turned her head to one side, an expression of disgust on her face.

"Yee-uck! Carlos Miguel! That's gross."

Stung by the comment, he got one hand free, forcing her head back around and he kissed her aain, forcing his tongue into her mouth as his body rocked against her, his need increasing. With his legs he forced hers apart. Ree shook her head from side to side, trying to get free, her breathing in ragged pants as she grew frightened.

When he let go of her chin to jerk the nightgown up out of his way, she was finally able to talk again.

"What are you doing," she cried, tears running down her cheeks. "This isn't right. You're making bad touches." His hand found the band of her underpants and slipped beneath and Ree's whole body jerked. "No! NO! That's bad touch. Don't touch me there. I'll tell my daddy."

"Your daddy's dead," he growled back. "Your mother's dead and I'm all you have. Just relax, Ree. You'll enjoy it."

"No, no, no..." Shaking her head, crying hard, she murmured the word over and over again, holding her body tense and rigid while his hand fumbled its way over her body. Her obvious distress bothered him; he'd expected her to start to enjoy the attention, and the thought that maybe he should stop and leave her alone occurred to him. As soon as it did, he pushed it aside, suddenly angry with the way she was trying to thwart him.

"It won't work this time," he warned, jerking her panties off her. "Last time, you played me for the fool, but this time, I'm going to get what's mine." He raised himself slightly to undo his pants and Ree took the chance to try to slide away. Grabbing her hair, he pulled her back, pushing her down and with a grunt, he thrust himself into her.

Ree screamed and he slapped her, hard, pressing his hand over her mouth to prevent any more outbursts. Grunting and moaning, nuzzling her neck and ear, General Miguel continued his litany of woes, justifying his actions as he humped his hips, riding her to his own conclusion. Underneath, barely able to breathe, Ree sobbed, her face turned away in a vain effort to deny what was happening.

With a final shudder, Carlos Miguel came and rolled off, falling beside the bruised and battered young woman. Ree immediately jumped off the bed, evading his languid grab for her, running to the space between the wardrobe and wall. She squeezed in as far as she could go, rolling herself up as small as possible into a fetal position.

For several moments, the general just lay there, recovering. Finally, breathing a long-suffering sigh, he pushed himself up, rearranged his clothes and went over to the girl's hiding place. He leaned over, looking in at her.

"Come on out, querida," he said wearily. "You don't want to stay there."

"Go away!" she returned tearfully. "I hate you. I never want to see you again. I wish you were dead. I wish I were dead!" With a wail, she buried her face into her knees.

Carlos Miguel shrugged. She'd come out when she got stiff enough, he decided. After all, there wasn't really anyplace else she could go. He shook his head and headed back to his own bedchamber, leaving both doors to the bathroom open. A few seconds later, he heard the other door close and lock and he grinned to himself. She'd be fine once she came to terms with the way things would be, he decided. Women were funny like that.

Satisfied and pleased with life, he prepared for bed. As he was falling asleep, he was already making plans to have a repeat performance before he got dressed in the morning. The sooner she learned her place in life, the better. And he didn't really care anymore if she was sterile. He loved her exactly as she was, for who she was, and that was that. A lifetime with her would be enough.



Chapter 5

Curled up in a ball in the corner behind the wardrobe, Ree sobbed herself to sleep, worn out by grief and hurting from the attack by the man she'd trusted and depended on. Several hours later, someone else woke up.
As she regained consciousness, her first awareness was of stiffness, the muscular protest against enforced inactivity in an artificial position on a hard surface. She opened her eyes, finding herself trapped in a narrow box. But even as she arrived at that disturbing conclusion, she realized that it was wrong. She could see the opening ahead of her.

Starting to get up, she discovered that she hurt, in very intimate places. Gingerly, she crawled out of the space, into a small, cramped bedroom, barely large enough for the furniture it contained. The wardrobe took up most of the space. A valet's room, she thought. She wandered around, looking for some clue as to her identity.

Two doors entered the room, both locked, but the keys were on the inside, reassuring her somewhat. She opened one, and peered out into a hallway, then the other. That was a large modern bathroom, an open door leading to another room from whence came the sound of loud, raucous snores.

Reluctant to approach that door, and the unknown sleeper in the connecting room, she was nevertheless uncomfortably aware of the drying stickiness between her legs. She steeled herself to go shut and lock that door, then began to clean herself up.

Part of the problem was blood. With the light on, she could see that the back of her gown was similarly stained. Pulling it off with sudden revulsion, she grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed at herself, trying to get clean. She left the gown on the floor of the bathroom, walking back into the room in which she'd first awakened.

By now, she was beginning to feel angry, frustrated and very afraid. She rummaged through the chest of drawers, finding a lot of frouffy underthings, but also some sensible exercise bras and underpants. She chose black and pulled them on. Looking further, she selected long dark pants and a long-sleeved dark shirt, in spite of the warmth of the night.

Feeling somewhat better and more in control, she continued her search for some sense of identity. Picking up a book off the bedside table, she opened it at random.

'The great cabin was filled with gaily dressed people; the handsomest among them was a young prince with large, dark eyes'. She could almost see him. He'd have long, dark curls that twined around your fingers. Skipping several paragraphs, she read again.

'He laughed and smiled and shook hands with everyone, while music played in the still night.' She remembered that. They had danced until the music stopped then raced off into the night to ... where? Frustratingly, the memory failed her there. Closing the book, she looked in the front. Someone had written, in large letters that crawled upward 'Ree, her book'.

Silently, she tried the name. Ree. Was that her name? Almost. Almost, but not quite. Ree. Ari. Yes, that was it. Ari. Ari Adler.

Pleased, she smiled and nodded. She was Ari Adler of the seaQuest. The last part took her by surprise and she glanced down at the book in her hands again, thinking there was some connection. 'The Little Mermaid'. There was a picture of a ship on the cover, with the prince looking down over the edge to the mermaid gazing up from the water, a party around him, and the gathering storm.

She knew this story. The boat would sink, losing all hands, including the prince. He would die and the mermaid would live, condemned to serve for three hundred years without him.

No. That wasn't right. That wasn't the ending to this story, but another. She shook her head, refusing the false lead of the storybook, and put it firmly back on the table.

The seaQuest, she thought, going back to that thought. She remembered it. Faces flashed across her memory, one in particular, the prince, again and again. She knew him. She knew them all.

More and more memories appeared, too many for her to follow, like an avalanche, a sensory overload. With an inarticulate cry, she slid off the bed, shielding her head with her arm as if to ward off the now painful cascading neuron impulses, as her life came back to her.

Later she reflected that it was probably for the best that she hadn't lost consciousness, but at the time, Ari felt as though her brain was as bruised as her body. Cruelly, she remembered everything. Everything. Not only everything that had happened to Ree, but the events on Hyperion, as well. Everything.

She and Miguel had made love again, there before he'd left on his final mission. Nothing planned, no protection, just defiance in the face of death. Ari pressed the palm of her hand flat against her empty stomach, closing her eyes and waiting for some emotion. Some sorrow or tears. But there was nothing there. It was all frozen away somewhere else.

Distantly, she knew that she should be crying, mourning for child whose existance she had so blindly denied. If she'd believe them, the doctors who said that she was pregnant, would this child be alive, even quickening, now? But Miguel would be dead. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. He was dead, the baby was dead, Ree was dead and maybe, from the feel of it, she was too, down inside.

She'd been here for three weeks, on top of the weeks she'd been with seaQuest. Seven weeks in a cavern, accessible only by an underwater passage. No fresh water, no light, no food. There was no hope.

Abruptly, she stood, wanting to look down at the man who had killed all her hopes and trust. She tripped on a pillow on the way out. Picking it up, she took it with her, once more through the connecting bath.

General Miguel lay sprawled out on his back, his arms wide, his mouth slightly opened as he snored loudly. She hated him. She hated him so hard there was no room for any more tears, for anything at all except cold, hard hatred. She hefted the pillow consideringly.

It would be such a simple matter to put it over his face and hold it there until he died, she thought. He moved, a satisfied smile on his face, and sleepily murmured "Ree". Goaded, she moved to take action, then paused, reconsidering.

If she killed him now, he would die triumphant, possessing everything and she would be left with nothing by hollow victory forever. She wanted to take from him everything he held dear, starting with herself, robbing him of his future as he'd robbed her. And she had everything she needed to do exactly that.

Turning on her heel, she strode back to the other room, leaving the pillow on the floor behind her.



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Davide Desejosso groaned at the sound of the door opening, but didn't look around. He couldn't stand to face Malique with his failure. The sounds of merrymaking had died down a couple of hours ago, as the available liquor dried up. Malique had carefully considered how much to allow them, since he didn't want his crack, US trained troops entirely incapacitated. By now, they were all asleep or otherwise in bed. Davide wished he were too.
"No luck," Malique said quietly. Wearily, Davide shook his head. His leader patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Why don't you call it a night, then? You may have better luck if you're rested."

"This was the best chance we had," the computer hacker mourned, letting himself be persuaded to shut the link down. "It was going on line, and not everything was up yet. If I could have gotten in ..."

He was still complaining when he lay down on the pallet in the room, his eyes already closing.

Malique sighed and shook his head. Now General Miguel had sole, personal control over every weapons storage in the country. Unless the USA and UEO came through with a significantly more substantial contribution, it looked as though his rebellion was doomed.



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Jameson was also having a frustrating night. First, he'd been unable to re-enable the security circuits in either the presidential suite or the whore's room beside it, then some damned elusive electronic sneak had tried to break into the Residence computer system. He'd been stalking the would-be intruder, patiently tracing him back over the shielded switchbacks to his location, but now, as though he'd noticed something, he was gone. Vanished without a trace. But Jameson would be waiting when he returned. And then he'd have him.
The door to the security room opened. Irritated, he looked up, then smiled. Ree stood there, wearing one of those ridiculously long gowns that Carlos let her get away with, staring silently at him. He could see bruises on her pale, wan face, and more around her wrists, and his smile broadened. Looked like his old friend had finally starting teaching her her proper place in life, underneath a man. He only wished he'd had the opportunity to teach the same lesson to her bitch friend.

"Well, look who got away. Come on, I know Carlos is going to be looking for you when he wakes up, you little idiot. He's going to want to go another round."

Getting heavily up out of his seat, he approached with his hand out, trying to appear non-threatening.

She let him get close enough, then struck. A kick to the stomach to get him to keel over, then a hard chop on the back of his neck. He fell like a puppet with its strings cut. Gasping like a fish, he stared up with uncomprehending eyes.

Ari stepped over him, taking his place at the terminal. Quickly she searched through the list of guards. While she'd been Ree, one of them had said something that hadn't made any sense at the time, but now she hoped was a link to Malique and the freedom fighters. She found him, on gate duty. Perfect.

Then, using the general's private codes, she entered the computer system, changing the passwords and altering programming to accept input only from those with the new codes. That done, she stepped back over Jameson and opened the door, pausing for a moment to look down at her victim.

He wasn't dead. Not yet. She'd cracked his vertebrae and severed the spinal column. If he didn't move, if he was found quickly enough, if the next person in knew enough to secure his head, he could have full recovery. She ought to kill him, she thought. Considering what she planned, that would be a mercy.

But she didn't feel particularly merciful.

Closing the door, she jammed the lock to prevent premature discovery and walked out of the Residence, floating through the corridors and rooms like a wraith. Or a sleepwalker.

Outside, she pulled the nightgown off and shoved it into a vase. Step one complete. Now for step two.



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Matteo Ruiz shifted his rifle to his other shoulder and readjusted his stance. Although he, like most of the other Residence guards, purported to hate having night time gate duty, it was where he wanted to be. He wanted to be the one to open the gates when Malique finally gave the word. It had been a difficult thing, swallowing his pride and honor in order to work his way into the honor guard, the Supreme General's own personal guard, but it had been worth it, in terms of the intelligence he'd been able to send back to the commandos. He'd been the one to inform them of Jameson's plans for automating the defense security systems.
He heard a rustle and came to alert, peering through the gates into the darkness. Was it time. When the sound came, it was from behind him.

"Senor Ruiz? I believe we have a mutual acquaintance. Darwin? Bad sinks."

The whispered voice could have been anyone. He spun around, prepared to kill to hide his secret. Then he froze. There stood the General's latest mistress, the small, fair, mentally deficient norte-americana. He'd been ordered to make contact with her a, and had managed a few days back, using almost those exact same words, but she'd just stared blankly at him.

"I, ahh, I'm not ... ummm, the future floats?" he replied in stunned disbelief, making a question of the counter statement.

"Exactly. Can you get me to Malique now?"

"I .. ah... the gates...?"

"Leave them open," she directed briskly, walking forward as if he had no choice but to let her past. In retrospect. He probably didn't. "It'll save time later."

The small woman, barely larger than a child walked confidently out of the enclosure ahead of him. She turned to give him a cold smile. "the revolution is about to begin. You don't want to be late."

Without another doubt, Matteo Ruiz jumped to follow.



Chapter 6

None of the rebels was very happy to be awakened in the wee hours of the morning, and several continued to grumble even after learning the circumstances. Manuel Santos, one of the older men who'd fought against the previous two regimes as well, was particularly obdurate.
"All I'm saying," he repeated stubbornly for the third time, "Is that we wait until nightfall, then strike. Right now, we're as much at a disadvantage as they are."

Malique glanced over toward the woman, standing beside an open window, gazing out at the softening darkness. She stood slightly hunched over, as if in pain, her arms crossed over her body, ins spite of the warm night.

"We can't wait," he answered shortly. "Once the fat pig realizes she's missing..."

"Miguel's whore," Santos interrupted, spitting to one side. The scorn in his voice was a lash and Ari flinched. "Send her back to keep him quiet and happy until we're ready to move."

At that, she turned to face the eight men, her face as oddly immobile as it had been since she'd first shown up, demanding to see Malique.

"I'm done with your little war, gentlemen," she said tonelessly. "You have what you need. How you use it, or squander it, is up to you." As though against her will, her gaze was drawn back to the barely visible scene outside.

"I don't trust you," Santos said, addressing her directly. He stood up, walking over to where she stood. "For weeks you've been Miguel's whore..."

"Don't call him that," she interrupted, almost conversationally.

The older guerrilla sneered at her.

"You don't like the truth. You have whored for him, you are Mig... URK!"

Ari had reacted without warning, driving her knee up as the man stuck his face into hers. As he collapsed, clutching himself, she looked at Malique, apparently seeing only him.

"I'm done," she said again quietly. "Good luck. And goodbye."

Before he knew what she was planning, she stepped through the window and disappeared. He blinked, then turned to face the others of his command staff, most of them UEO and CIA trained, repatriated to free their homeland. Deliberately, he ignored the groaning Santos, and after a few seconds, so did they.

"You all know what you need to do. Get yourselves into position. Jose, Christophe, securing the air and sea ports are vital. Don't slip up. As soon as Davide gets into the system..."

Hearing his name, Davide looked up from his terminal over to one side, face glowing.

"I can do it," he announced, grinning widely. "I can do this, Malique. We're in. Everything is exactly the way she said." He looked around with almost comic perplexity. "Where did she go?"

Reaching the ground, Ari didn't pause. The ocean had been visible from the window, distracting her from the discussion around the table with it's promise of relief. She found the path that led down to the sandy beach.

She could still feel him. Intimately. Sickeningly. His hands, crawling over her skin like maggots, leaving his filth behind. And no time to shower. No time to try to clean herself up. But now, she had time. All the time in the world. She could go for a swim. A long swim. Let the waters of the ocean flow over her body. Let the sea wash away the dirt.

There was no moon. A faint glow from the horizon hinted that dawn was near. If Malique didn't get his people moving soon, security would find Jameson and the changes she'd made to the Residence computers and it would be too late. But that wasn't her affair. She was finished.

Ari removed her outer clothing, folding them neatly in a pile. Weaing only her underwear, she began to wade out into the water.



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It had been more than half an hour since Major Nelson Mendoz had unlocked the security room door and found Jameson lying there unconscious. His first action had been to secure the room and test the computer access. It hadn't been much of a surprise to find they'd been set to respond to the General's private codes only. It was like the supreme leader to do something like that.
While waiting for his leader to appear, the major had ordered emergency care for the colonel and reinforced the guards around the Residence perimeter. But now, he was getting reports that certain positions were under attack and the troops were locked in their barracks by Jameson's ill-advised security measures. And the general had yet to appear. Impatient, he set off to find out what was keeping the man.

His bootheels clicked loudly as he strode on the polished hardwood floor, gleaming softly as the sun rose low on the horizon. It illuminated the two figures standing in front of the generals quarters, apparently carrying on a low-voiced, vehement argument. One of them, in the uniform of a house guard, drew himself up into attention as Major Mendoz approached.

"What is the meaning of this delay?" the officer demanded, ignoring the civilian, the general's valet, after a single glance of identification.

"He won't awaken the general sir."

"Then you do it," Mendoz ordered. The young soldier looked queasy and shook his head.

"He says that the general gave strict orders not to be disturbed sir. For any reason. Sir."

"Ah! Madre de Dios!" he cursed, giving them both a look of deep scorn. The valey shrugged indifferently, but the young man had the wits too look worried. Raising his hand up, Mendoz knocked hard on the door. After waiting a few seconds, he repeated the action.

"Si. Harold? What is it? I told you not to disturb me."

"It's Major Mendoz, sir. There's been a security breach. We need your codes."

"Use Jameson's," was the dismissive reply.

"We can't. They don't work. And Jameson's been attacked. Inside the security room."

There was a period of silence, then the door opened the general still tying his robe closed.

"Very well. Harold, I want a bath when I get back." Expecting the others to follow, he set off toward the control room. The valet went in to begin preparing the rooms for his master's eventual return.



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Malique was passing out rifles when the sirens began to wail. Immediately realizing what it meant, he pointed to the man who'd just taken a gun from him.
"Take over!" he ordered. Stepping to one side, he called Davide.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"We didn't have as much time as we expected," the young computer hacker answered. "I've been shut out on remote."

"Can they open the barracks?"

"I don't think... I don't know."

"Where's Adler?" On learning that Davide didn't know the answer to that one either, Malique faced the unsavory knowledge that it was all a set up. Coldly, he gave the order to all his lieutenants to shoot the UEO woman on sight, and went on distributing arms to his loyal troops. They might fail, but they'd take out enough of them that the next revolt from the favelas would succeed.



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Several hours later, it was clear that the country was lost. Mendoz had gotten hold of the computer engineers who'd designed Jameson's security measures, but Miguel's head of security had been too good at his job, and too paranoid. He'd used each one to block the others' backdoors in and without the command codes, the program was useless to them. At least they'd managed to shut out the remote log-in who did have them.
That perplexed General Miguel. How could the rebels have gotten in to change the passwords? Only he knew all of them. Unless Jameson did. That made sense. The turncoat UEO officer was greedy, ambitious and cynical. He could be bought. He must have been bought. And the unknown intruder had tried to kill him in lieu of payment. The schemer brought low by his own schemes. Too bad his assailant had failed in the attempt. Last word that Carlos Miguel had from the hospital before communications ceased a few hours back was that he was hanging on and the cdoctors were beginning neuron stimulation treatments.

But that didn't matter now. It was all over. The Residence gates had been breeched and they were fighting hand to hand in the darkening gardens. General Miguel had heard gunfire in the gardens as he entered the entrance to the hidden dock that not even Jameson had known about.

The recessed lighting brightened in response to his passage, dimming behind him and then he was there, looking at the most perfect get-away vehicle. The Irene Adler. Small, fast and beautiful, just like the woman it had been named for. And all his.

Built around a subfighter engine, she could do 300 knots easily, both underwater and above. Her upper hull was recessible, so she could appear to be an innocuous speedboat. But when the panels were in place, she was a formidable presence. There was a sound from the water, and he spun around, looking for the source, pistol at ready, but when it repeated, he relaxed. Just waves slapping the dock.

With a deep sense of relief, he boarded his boat and began to ease her out into the open sea.

Ten minutes later, he relaxed still further, enough to put her on automatic pilot and go in search of something caffienated to drink. He had a long journey ahead of him, but he knew where he was going. Coming back into command, a noise alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone.

Carlos' heart filled his throat, making it impossible to swallow. Pulling out his weapon, he waited, trying to locate the intruder by ear. Whoever it was was hiding in a storage bin. Quick as a cobra striking, he had the door open and was pulling her out.

At the sight of his prize, a delight smile spread over his face.

"Ree! You're safe!" He wondered if she'd been abused. She was wearing nothing except her bra and underpants. He hoped not, but he knew that even if she had been, it didn't matter,. He loved her and she was back with him.

Thrilled with this evidence that fortune still smiled on him, he started to embrace the girl, but she stepped quickly out of the way, averting her face from him.

"Oh, you aren't still angry with me, are you? I'm sorry about what happened." Silence answered him. He grimaced, sighing and shrugged, going back to the controls as she collapsed into a tight ball, her back to him. Over his shoulder he tried to explain.

"You have to understand, Ree. A man has needs. And you are so very beautiful that, I just couldn't control myself. I love you so much and I wanted you, and ... I ... things just got out of hand."

Her continued silence unnerved him. He checked the settings and turned to face her.

"I promise you, next time will be different. Next time, I'll show you how much you can enjoy it too. All you have to do is relax. Don't fight me. You shouldn't fight me, Ree. That's what made it so bad this time. You fighting me about it."

She stood slowly, straightening up and turning to face him in eerie slow motion.

"Classic."

The voice even more than the word shocked him. His Ree had never spoken in that tone of voice. Hard, cold, condemning.

"You sorry excuse for a man," she went on. Carlos recognized her then, his eyes widening. Instinctively, he backed away, looking from side to side.

"I think you gave every classic excuse of a habitual abuser except for the one 'it'll never happen again.' That's sad, too. That's the one that is entirely true and I promise you, it will never happen again. You will never touch me again, you bastard."

She'd pushed him too hard. Recovering, he glared suspiciously back at her.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he demanded. "Jameson was right all along. It was a trick. Ree ... Ree wasn't real. It was all a trick!"

She gave a brief snort of unamused laughter.

"Would it comfort you to go to your death believing that?" she asked mockingly. "I do believe it would. Then I am very glad I don't have to lie and say no. Jameson was wrong. I wasn't faking it. Ree ... You know, it's funny. If you had taken your time, seduced her... me, I would have been a prisoner in my own mind. But you couldn't control yourself." Her voice was breaking, the cold, shiny hardness showing cracks as emotion came through.

"You scared that poor, stupid child..."

"Ree isn't stupid," Carlos countered, automatically defending her. He blinked at the incongruousness of the statement, and his hand closed on a large wrench. He hid it behind him, thinking quickly.

"You really loved her, in some warped, perverted way. I'm amazed. And, oddly, pleased." The sudden introduction of venom in her voice warned him what she would say next. "Because you killed her. She couldn't deal with your betrayal and she died and I came back and you killed her."

"Noooo!" He lunged forward, trying to bring the heavy tool down on her head. Ari dove past him, reaching for the control panel and then rolling away as he followed, hitting the console with a hard blow. The engines stopped, the boat began to surface, and Ari began to laugh, sounding almost hysterical.

"What were you thinking?" she asked, taunting him. "Knock me out and maybe your lady love would resurface? She's dead, Sr. Miguel. Dead as a doornail. And soon you will be too."

He ignored her, trying to regain control of his vessel. She stifled her sobs, quiet while he worked. He tried to start the engines, heard them turn over and die again. The covering hull was partially telescoped back, letting the ocean breeze cool the sweat that had sprung up on his face.

"You have a choice, Carlos Miguel. You can wait here for Malique and his people to find you, and they will, I promise. Or, you can take your chances and swim to land. We aren't too far away from shore here. I programmed in the navigational instructions very carefully before I sabotaged it."

He turned, goaded beyond belief.

"I'm going to kill you," he promised, forcing the words out between gritted teeth. Remembering his sidearm, he went to pull it out, only to find that the holster was empty.

"I'm already dead," she answered. Noticing his expression of dismay and the empty hand, she laughed,. She reached down and picked something up.

"Looking for this? Go get it." She tossed over his head and out opening, and he heard the weapon slide along the curve of the hull and splash in the water. While he was distracted, she jumped up and balanced there as well. Looking back, her face grew very serious.

"I told them that I was done with their war, but I was wrong. I am responsible for all the evil you have done in the past ten years, because I asked that you live when you should have died. I rescind my boon and leave you to your fate."

With those enigmatic words, she dove out of sight and into the ocean. Carlos climbed up and looked for her, but she didn't resurface. Looking around, he could see the dark strip indicating land tantalizingly close. That had to be where she was heading, and he was stronger than she was. He could get there first.

Grunting and struggling, he worked his way up and jumped overboard.

Ari wasn't heading toward land, her course lay out away from shore. She paused at the loud splash and looked back. She felt no pity for him, but the truth of her words weighed her down. She was responsible for what he'd done. Something swam past her and for a moment, she was startled, then she realized that it was a dolphin. Another and another came past, each one lightly touching her on the way.

"They give you honor," Caesar remarked, handing over a rebreather.

"They shouldn't. I have no honor," she answered bitterly, putting the device on. "There is nothing left of me."

"There is this." He held something out to her, dangling it for her to get her hand underneath.

It was a small medallion, silver from the blackened state of it, depending from a delicate chain. Ari stared at it blankly. She flipped it over, exploring it with her fingers, unable to believe that it could be what it felt like. A very small religious medal. Just like the one she'd give Miguel. She looked up at Caesar, seeking an explanation.

"That came from a pod of dolphins located near Australia. They found a man inside a sacred cavern, and have been helping him."

She stared back down at the small necklace in her hand, unable to breathe, to see, her hand closing on it tightly.

"So you do have something left," Caesar concluded.


END PART 6