"It's our only hope Patrick! We have to get rid of it!" Sean Wexford shouted above the pouring rain and the rolling thunder. A monster storm had blown up out of nowhere and was now threatening to swamp Sean’s beloved FarRanger. The eldest Wexford brother pushed forward against the pitch and roll of the cutter, the ax in his hand seemed extra heavy as he hefted the sharpened blade. If he had to chop the unholy thing to pieces, than that's what he would do. Patrick Wexford whirled around on the deck of the boat, blocking his brother's path, hatred and jealously in his eyes.

"Never! She's mine, Sean! You're just jealous she chose me over you. I'll never give her up, you hear me? Never!" Patrick shouted back. Another swell over took the boat, the wave crashing over the side, sending both men lunging for the rails.

"No, Patrick! She's gonna kill us both, you know that! It's all she knows, it's all she lives for! Please, brother, listen to me!" Sean pleaded, begging for his brother to listen to him.

But Patrick wasn't hearing his brother. All he could hear was her voice, her words, and her promises. In a rage, Patrick lunged at his brother, his hands going for Sean's throat. The two men rolled on the deck, grappling as one tried to get the upper hand over the other. Sean dropped the ax, not wanting to hurt his brother, even as Patrick locked his fingers around brother's throat. Another monster wave overtook the ship, and this time the FarRanger did not recover. She listed hard to starboard, her nose slowly pointing upward as the stern slowly sank beneath the waves.

"Everything all right, Lee?" he asked.

"Just tired. I feel like I’ve been signing my name for hours. You know, for once I’m looking forward to some down time."

"Yeah, right. I told you, I stole the truck, I'm driving. You can steal the next truck and you can drive."

"Next truck we steal, I’m gonna check the bed to make sure we aren’t hauling stolen goods," Chip replied with a chuckle. When he and Lee took off, neither of them had known a sarcophagus was tied down in the bed, a sarcophagus that Admiral Nelson had been tossed into, unbeknownst to any one.

"Being chased by your sister while Serena takes pot shots at us is defiantly a new one, even for us. Where in the world did Wendy learn to drive like that? The Richard Petty Driving School?"

"Hey, Carol is a nice girl," Lee said defensively.

"You can explain to Wendy just how nice a girl Carol is. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear all about you old girlfriends."

"You want some company? I’ll bring food," Chip offered, jumping on any chance to get Lee to relax and unwind.

"Salsa?" Lee asked wistfully. Chip made a mean salsa dip, but he usually saved it for special occasions, like cookouts and football games. A cookout. What a great idea. He batted his long, dark lashes eyelashes in Chip’s direction entreatingly. Chip smirked at his friend’s attempt at looking cute.

"Maybe. Are we just gonna eat chips and salsa or you got any other ideas?" Chip could hear the wheels rolling around in Crane’s head. The hamster was in overdrive.

"Burgers? On the grill?"

"You still need to make good on your bet. Remember? You and me? The Flu? Sickbay? You lost, buddy. Seems to be a habit with you here lately."

"I didn't lose. You cheated." Lee’s eye’s narrowed, thinking about the sneaky way Chip wiggled out of that bet.

"I found a loophole. You know what a detail-oriented person I am. You need to pay closer attention the next time you make a bet with somebody."

"Alright, you win, okay? Bring that piece of junk Jeep of yours by and I'll wash and detail the thing."

"Anything you say, Skipper," Chip replied with a grin. Lee just shook his head and turned his attention back the stack of reports he was still wading through. He stopped in mid sentence and glanced at his watch, realizing he hadn't seen either Serena or Wendy all morning.

"Where are the girls anyhow?" he asked.

"I need it," Serena said, a desperate plea in her voice. She raked a distracted hand through her long red hair and leaned back against the cabin door. Looking quite comfortable in her own bunk, Wendy Morton reclined against the bulkhead, her nose in a dog-eared mystery novel.

"Well, you're not getting it," Wendy replied, not looking up from her paperback book.

"Nope. You can't be trusted," Wendy said, this time flicking her blue eyes up just long enough watch her friend's agitated pacing.

"Wendy, you can't do this to me."

"No. I'm cutting you off. It's not good for you," Wendy said, a note a determination in her voice.

"Nope, not this time. I've got it hidden too well. You'll never find it," Wendy replied smugly. Serena had always been good at ferreting out where she had stashed it. Wendy was proud of herself this time. There was no way Harrison was going to find it this time.

"You gave it to Chip, didn't you?"

"Not telling. I'll give it back to you when we get back home, and not a minute before then. If hiding your laptop is the only way to get you to stop and take a vacation, then that's what I'll do."

"Wendy, I'm bored. All I want to do is look over the database," she announced in a low voice. The database she was talking about was a compilation of years of research. Every lead on every rumored and uncovered wreck Serena had ever come across was recorded, listing details like crew, cargo, home ports, any pictures that might exist, and in some cases, scanned copies of the logs and journals. It was her pride and joy, and she spent most of her free time adding entries and following up leads. Only Wendy had other ideas for this trip.

"You make it sound like I'm about to pass out from exhaustion," Serena replied sourly.

"Let’s break this down, shall we? We spent four days in France while you chase down some random French archaeologist. Then Ballard asked you for a consultation and we spend six days out on the Black Sea while we played with his new toys. Don't get me wrong, Ballard always has some very fine toys. You got called up by Dr. Juarez to join him on that site off the coast of Spain. We sat out there for four days. You and I both know the only reason he asked for you was so he could tell the press that Admiral Nelson’s daughter was on site."

"Gwendolyn . . ." Serena warned. Wendy held up a placating hand.

"I know. I still don’t like the little twerp. I don't like that way he tries to cash in on the Admiral's name. Anyway, Then you got invited to move that mummy to Cairo. That was two solid weeks. Two weeks. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired. I’ve done nothing but run since you hired me. I am looking forward to a nice, quiet ride back to the States."

"That’s because you don’t have a love life. If it’s not over a hundred years old and covered in mud and grime, you aren’t interested. That’s not healthy. It’s unnatural. It’s, it’s weird." Wendy marked her place in the book before tossing it aside and setting up to actually face Serena.

"Sweetie, that was a year ago. I’ve known you since you were sixteen. In case you've forgotten, we dormed together for four years and we shared that ratty apartment for another three. I know you. I can read you like a book. You might not realize what you're doing, but I've got you pegged."

"Oh?" Serena continued to stare at the ceiling.

"Yes. Everything was fine and dandy when you were just Dr. Serena Harrison, random marine archaeologist. You were content, and doing pretty well," Wendy started.

"I'm not running from anything," Serena replied, denial oozing from every pore. She refused to look Wendy in the eye, a sure sign she was defensive.

"It's been ten years, Serena. When are you going to put Brandon behind you?"

"This has nothing to do with Brandon," Serena said quietly, her voice just a notch above a whisper.

"I know you better than that," Wendy challenged.

"You know nothing," came Serena’s response, suddenly very fidgety.

"I know you're denial, Cleopatra. Listen. Lee and Chip have some leave coming up. When we get back home, let Chip take you around and show you Santa Barbara. You've been out there for almost nine months now and you still can't find your way around yet. I’ll bet you haven’t been off the Institute grounds except to go back and forth to work. I know Chip would be happy to spend some time with you."

"You hate anything more advanced than a calculator. The most complicated thing you own is that laptop. You're supposed to find artifacts, not use them on a day to day basis," Wendy paused and stared intently into Serena's eyes, all joking aside.

"Please. Just let Chip show you around. It doesn't have to be a date, just let him be nice. Take a real vacation when we get back home. Please. You are wearing yourself out. You hired to me be your coordinator. I can't coordinate if you can't take care of yourself and you work yourself into an early grave."

"Are you still in a tizzy about Cairo? You're taking that way too seriously."

"Bottomless Pit Morton strikes again," Lee quipped, spearing a forkful of his own salad and casting a glance at Chip's well filled plate.

"Just because you eat like a bird, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to starve to death," Chip replied, throwing his own chilly glance at Lee’s sparse plate. "Mom would have a fit if she saw that."

"Yeah, but Wen is. She sees that and she’s gonna go all 'Mom' on you, try to fatten you up,’ Morton replied, moving his brownie to the edge of the plate.

"Ah-ha. There you are," the familiar female voice with a very faint southern accent called out from the doorway. Lee and Chip looked up to see 5'4" of red headed marine archaeologist making a beeline for their table. Without paying any attention to anyone else in the room, Serena pulled out a chair and sat down next to Lee, placing herself across from Chip. She glared at the man, determination in her sea green eyes.

"Did you want some lunch?" Lee asked weakly, shifting his gaze from Serena to Chip, not sure what was going on. Serena crossed her arms over the tabletop and continued to stare over at Chip.

"You have something I want, Commander," she said plainly.

"HA! So you admit you have it," Serena said shrewdly.

"Did I miss something?" he asked uncertainly.

"Mister Morton here has something I need and he won't give it to me."

"Don't make me take steps, Chip," Serena warned, placing her palms flat on the table, and leaning over to look Chip in the eyes. For a second she lost herself in those sky blue pools, before pulling herself back to reality and remembering she was here on a mission.

"Alright, Chip. You leave me no choice. Don't say I don't warn you." Serena reached out, plucked his brownie off the plate, and held it up to the light, as if admiring the confection.

"You wouldn’t dare," Chip warn as his sky blue eyes frosted over and the temperature in the Ward Room dropped twenty degrees.

"Have a nice lunch, captain, commander," Serena replied as she turned and sashayed out of the Ward room, Chip’s Death Glare following her, Lee’s amused golden eyes trying hard to hold back the laughter threatening to bust loose. Chip switched his glare to his best friend.

"Don’t even think about it," he warned, one eyebrow cocked at ninety degrees. Lee choked back the chuckle, knowing Morton would kill him is he so much as snorted.

"She is so dead, just you wait till we get back to port. One dead marine archaeologist, coming up. Sliced and diced," the Exec muttered, picking at the crumbs on his plate.

"Just remember, the Admiral might object to anything permanent," Lee reminded his XO. Chip just indulged in a very evil grin. Lee sort of felt sorry for the now absent archaeologist . If Dr. Harrison knew what was good for her, she’d watch her back once they reached port.

"Oh, looks tasty, where’d you get that?" Wendy asked, walking down the corridor. She was headed for the nose, feeling a little closed in, and thinking the observation nose would be a good place to try and get some relief. She spied Serena heading in the opposite direction, nibbling on a frosted brownie.

"That brownie came off of Chip's plate? As in, Chip, my brother? Does he know you took that off his plate?"

"Yep. Watched me take it. Mr. Starched and Proper didn’t even stop me," Serena said, way too smugly. Wendy covered her eyes with one hand. Sometimes Serena could be so dense.

"You remember what you said earlier, about thinking before you act? You should really have considered that. You realize that once we reach port, you’re a marked woman?"

"Oh no. He wouldn’t, try to like, get revenge, would he? It's just a brownie."

"Haven't you been listening to Mom? You don't come between Chip and food. Ever. Especially chocolate. Nice knowing ya, Harrison. Hope your will is up to date. Do I get your compass collection?"

"Oh come on, anything happens to me, you’re out of a job." The red head hissed as she polished off the last of the dessert. Wendy just shrugged.

" I can go back to Washington. They'd take me back in heart beat."

"Turn coat. I’m going to the Lab. You never saw me." With that Serena marched down the hall, considering how she was going to avoid Chip once they reached port.

The afternoon passed slowly. Everything was running smoothly and quietly as Seaview continued mapping this section of the North Atlantic ocean floor. It was more of a feeling than anything else that made Lee glance up. Wendy Morton was coming down the stairs at a slow pace, her eyes drawn to the large observation windows. Lee smiled. Everybody did that and it was refreshing to see Wendy was no different.

"It is okay if I sit in the nose awhile? The cabin was starting to close in on me," she asked.

"I don’t see a problem. You know the rules," Lee replied as she wondered toward him.

"Yes Captain. If there’s trouble, I head for Sickbay. I stay out of your crewman’s way," she leaned closer to him and whispered just loud enough for him and him alone to hear, "and no flirting with the commanding officer," she said with a smirk, her sky blue eyes dancing.

"You wouldn't know anything about a purloined laptop computer, would you?" he asked, ingnoring her remark with a slight smile. Wendy batted innocent eyes at him, then gleefully rubbed her hands together, mad scientist style.

"Yes, commander, I would, and everything is going according to my plans," Wendy replied evilly.

"Alright, now you're scaring me. Go on with you, I have work to do. Oh, by the way, where is your shadow?"

"In the lab, with the Admiral. At least I think she's with the Admiral, since that seems to be his hideout." she said with a grin.

"He's compiling research for an upcoming climate summit meeting, so I would imagine they're have a chatting about all things scientific."

"Skipper, you gotta check this out," the excited young man said. Lee and Chip exchanged glances before both men headed forward. Even Wendy seemed excited, hardly able to stay in one place. As Lee neared the window, he understood their excitement.

"Aye, aye sir." Chip went back to the plot table, snatching up the mike. "Engine Room, all stop. Maneuvering, hold this position." Chip looked up at Lee. "Should I alert the Admiral? He's gonna want to see this."

"Have you now? I guess then we had better come down and check it out, than hadn't we? We’re own our way."

"Oh yeah. It might take her twenty minutes, but she'll name it." While Serena had a tendency to be slightly scatterbrained, misplacing files, and forgetting about meetings, she had a recall concerning wreck sites that made her an asset in her chosen field. If she had read about it, and it had been recorded in her data base, Wendy was betting Serena would be able to recall everything she knew about the site they had found.

"Lee, I daresay you are right," commented the Admiral, moving forward. Serena cast a quick glance back toward the Control Room. Chip was looking up at her though his lashes, giving her the frostiest gaze he could muster.

"Looks smaller than traditional carvings, fits with the early to mid eighteenth century. The ship looks too small for Spanish or French, possibly Scottish, or maybe Irish. North Atlantic, North Atlantic, off the coast of . . .what's the nearest land mass?" she asked distractedly, running a forefinger over the edge of her earlobe as she thought out loud.

"You have no idea," Wendy replied, shifting from the wreck to her friend, watching Serena work out the location and possibilities of the identity of the wreck.

"Off the coast of France. But she's too small to be French, but she's the right size to be Irish. Eighteenth century. France. Ireland. Eighteenth century, mid to late seventeen hundreds, maybe," she muttered half to herself, half to whom ever was listening. Her eyes had taken on a far away, calculating look, and she almost seemed to have tuned out everybody else, focused solely on the remains of the nameless ship.

"Didn't Ireland have the assistance of the French during the Irish Rebellion in 1798?" Nelson asked helpfully. Serena perked up, still staring intensely out into the sea. Suddenly she turned to Wendy and snapped her fingers

"The FarRanger. She was on her way back from France to her home port in Cork Harbor when she vanished, supposedly lost in heavy seas, toward the latter half of 1798. The Wexford family was reportedly supply arms to the resistance. This is fantastic! Did you know she was rumored to be cursed? From her refit in, ah, 17 . . . 9 . . . 5, I think, she lost nearly fifty crewmen and went through six skippers The time frame is right, the style of the figure head is right, we could be in the right area. I wonder. . ." her voiced trailed off, as she rested one hand against the window, feeling the cold of the North Atlantic against the palm of her hand.

"Wonder what?" Nelson asked, pretty sure he knew what his daughter was thinking. It was the same thought he was just now beginning to consider.

"What condition the figure head is in. I wonder if it's stable enough to recover. I could use Patterson, if he's available. He did great photography work on the San Isabella. If it is recoverable, I don’t want it moved until the site's been completely documented."

"Just say the word Admiral. Of course, I'm no archaeologist, I'm not sure I'm the best judge of whether or not that thing is in any kind of condition to be moved."

"You really should not be doing any diving at these depths," Wendy announced, and folded her arms over her chest, giving Serena a look Lee found very familiar. Not quite the intense glacial glare Mr. Morton leveled at hapless crewmen, Wendy nonetheless welded the look well. It certainly worked on the red headed archaeologist. Serena shifted her gaze to the figurehead resting at the bottom of the North Atlantic.

"You worry too much," Serena muttered under her breath. Trapped in a tomb collapse ten years ago, Serena had spent eighteen hours breathing dusty, fouled air. She recovered from all her other injuries but her lungs never regained the strength and tolerance for deep diving. Wendy was quick to remind her of that, on more than one occasion.

"Dr. Jamison is not set up for neubulizer treatments, I doubt he even has the equipment," came Wendy's calm reply. She turned to Harriman, her sky blue eyes resolute. "Sir, her lungs are not strong enough to tolerate the pressures of diving at these depths. I don't think it's a good idea for her to do any diving in these waters. She can monitor the recovery from the nose and Lee can report to her his findings."

"The doctors said it might not be the best idea. I can still dive, but I just haven't done much deep diving. Of course, you have only the very best equipment, and very capable divers. It wouldn't take long to assess the figurehead's condition." Serena said, with an approving glance at Lee. She really wanted to check out this find.

"Only the very best," agreed Nelson. He turned to Lee. "You think you can keep an eye on Dr. Harrison here, long enough for her to determine if that figure head is stable enough shape to be brought aboard?"

"I think between myself and the other divers, she should be out and back before she has time to register any complications."

"You were saying the FarRanger was cursed?" he asked, back peddling a bit, but keeping Serena in his sights.

"Well, there were six recorded captains between 1795 and her disappearance in 1798. I have scans of the log books and the journals of the original owner and first skipper," she continued to touch the carving, testing the surface. "I cannot believe the shape this thing is in. It's in fantastic condition, if it's been down here as long as I think it has. This long on the bottom of the Atlantic, it should be a pile of splinters. We should be able to bring it aboard without any problems. Ski, do you think you and Pat can lift it and carry it back to the boat?" Serena's metallic sounding voice echoed though Lee's earpiece.

"Let’s move this old girl, than shall we?" Serena replied merrily. She pulled back, back peddling along side Lee as he drew her away. She stopped, watching as Ski and Pat pulled the figurehead free of the mud and lifted it over her head.

"Miss Smarty Pants, you and your cohort up there can fetch my laptop anytime now. I'm gonna need it to research this wreck," she said.

"Skipper look out!" Ski called out as the weight of the falling figure pulled free from Pat's grip. The figurehead dropped straight down as gravity took over. Lee surged forward, giving Serena a powerful shove. The carved figure fell straight down on Crane, knocking the regulator from his mouth, bubbles streaming wildly for the surface. He was aware of voices in his earpiece, but he couldn't answer them. The outstretched hand of the figure pressed against his throat, threatening to crush his windpipe, the weight of the figurehead pushing Lee down onto the mud and silt.

"Patterson? Kowalski, what's going on, is everything alright?" Nelson's frantic bass echoed through Serena's own earpiece.

"Admiral, the skipper's been hurt. Get Doc to meet us in the missile room, with oxygen."

"Breathe, come on, breathe . . ." Serena pleaded, dropping to her knees by Ski as the rating started doing the first round of compressions. She felt hand on her shoulders as her father came up behind her, watching as Ski worked. He forced more air into Lee's stressed lungs, the skipper's chest rising and falling slightly as Ski worked. More compressions as Serena continued to plead. "Come on skipper, don’t you dare give up on me. You don't want to make the Admiral have to find a new skipper, would you?"

"Easy skipper, don't fight me on this," Will urged. Crane locked eyes with the doctor's, amber into pale blue. The Lee's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed onto the deck.

"Sickbay, now!" Jamison roared as Frank and John snapped into action, hoisting Lee's unresponsive body onto a waiting stretcher.

"Dr. Jamison . . ." Wendy's voice carried overtones of fear and concern. Chip gave her a gentle shove in the doctor's direction.

"Just give me a few minutes. I hope you aren't thinking about wondering off, you might be helpful," Jamison replied. A bit timidly, Wendy followed the doctor to Sickbay.

"Will?" Nelson called out. Jamison came out from his small office, clipboard in one hand. He hung the board on the hook next to Lee's bunk and motioned for Nelson to follow him to his office. Once out of Wendy's hearing, Jamison launched into his explanation.

"He's lucky, Admiral. Very lucky. Nothings broken, but he has some severe bruising on his torso, some very sore ribs, and a bruised sternum. He definitely aspirated seawater. If he doesn't develop phenomena, I'll be surprised. I've set him up on a broad-spectrum antibiotic with the hope I can help him fight off any future infection. For Lee's sake, I’m going to keep him sedated for twenty four hours, just so he doesn’t try and pull a Houdini on me."

"If he can rant and rave about it later, than I'll know I've done the right thing. He needs to be still and quiet for the next few hours, not plotting on how to escape. Chip can manage just fine for a few days until I know how this is going to turn. There is one other thing that has me worried though. Lee has some considerable bruising on his neck and throat. No doubt he'll have a sore throat when he come around. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear someone tried to choke him."

"How is he?" Chip asked quietly, shifting his gaze from the charts to the red head. Serena tapped her knuckle against the top of the table, her gaze focused on nothing. Harrison was aware of the crew, focused on their jobs, yet listening for word on their skipper’s condition. Serena was also aware of their devotion to their CO, how they would do just about anything to protect him. She wasn't sure how they would continue to accept her, with him being hurt like this because of one of her whims.

"Out for the moment. Both Jamie and Wendy are looking after him."

"What happened out there? Everything was fine, the suddenly Ski was warning Lee to look out. We couldn't really make out what was happening."

"Serena, it's not your fault. It's just one of those things that happen, and with Lee, more often than you might think. It would have happened if it had been me or the Admiral out there."

But Serena couldn’t convince herself that Chip was right. It was her idea to go after the figurehead, her idea to bring it aboard. The Admiral had sent a second team of divers out after the thing once all the excitement had died down. Serena wasn’t sure how she felt about that. On one hand they had recovered a piece of history, on the other; a good friend could have been killed. The whole thing had left her with a sense of guilt, feeling like she had let Wendy, the Admiral, even Seaview's crew down. Serena didn’t answer, her eyes taking on a distant, staring expression.

Late shift saw few people in and out of the missile room. The figurehead of the shipwreck sat in a quiet corner, out of the way and out of sight as Seaview's crew went about their tasks. Admiral Nelson stood in front of the find, as Patterson took pictures for Serena's files. The digital camera flashed as Patterson covered all the angles, letting his background as a professional photographer lead him to shots he thought the archaeologist would appreciate. Nelson walked slowly around the base wooden figure, like Serena, amazed at its condition. There was hardly any sign of damage or wear. The only weathering he could see was the color itself. The wood was stained a dark almost black color.

"Patterson, you say you lost your grip on this thing and it fell?" he asked, trying to visualize what had happened.

"Yes sir, Ski lost his grip on it, and I couldn't hold it up on my own. When it fell, it dropped right down on top of the skipper, sir. He was pinned under the thing and that outstretched hand there, it dropped right down in his throat. That's why he couldn't breathe even though Ski got the skipper's regulator back into place."

"I see," Nelson said, continuing to walk around the figurehead. There was nothing out of the ordinary to indicate this was something other than an ornately carved, very well preserved piece of history. The detailing was absolutely exquisite. The folds of the dress she wore, each twist and curl of her long hair, even the lashes of her closed eyes were expertly done. Looking around, Harriman raised his voice for the one person he knew was hovering just out of his line of vision.

"Sharkey,"

"Chief, get a detail and make sure this thing is safely stowed away in one of the cargo holds."

"Aye, Admiral, I'll get right on that," Sharkey whirled, spied two crewmen on the other side of the missile room. He raised his voice, getting the attention of the two. "Henderson, Watkins, you two goldbricks just volunteered. Get the lead out, and get this thing stowed away."

"Lurking in the hallway, Admiral?" she asked him. Nelson smiled and moved slowly into Sickbay.

" It is my submarine. I would like to think I can lurk anywhere I like," he relied, leaning his stocky 5"9' frame against the bunk supports. He ran a hand through his mussed auburn hair, watching Seaview's young skipper. Lee looked peaceful and far younger than his thirty-eight years.

"Your submarine, Admiral? I think Lee would argue with you on that point," Wendy replied, grinning.

"I permit him his little illusions, because he’s the best submarine captain I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with."

"Which part? The part where I said he's delusional or the part where I said he was the best captain I've ever seen?"

"We wouldn't want to hurt his feelings, now would we, sir?"

"Keep that up, young lady, and we're going to get along just fine," Nelson said with a trademark smirk.

"He thinks of you as more than just his friend, you know that don't you?" Wendy said quietly, reaching over and brushing a stray lock of dark hair out of Lee's eyes. She moved her fingers to Lee's left hand, lying across his chest. She twined her fingers around his for a moment, before pulling back. Harry realized that this woman was a devoted to Lee as Chip was. He had seen the same look in Chip's eyes, as he stood watch over his brother in soul, that sense of devotion, and protectiveness, and in Wendy's case, something more. He didn't have to ask what. Someone a long time ago had once looked at him like that. It was a look that was hard to forget.

"I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but you mean a great deal to her. She cares what you think about her, and for the most part, she's never cared what her peers think of her. She's working herself into the ground to impress you. She wants your approval, desperately. Her stepfather was killed before she switched her focus to Marine History. She doesn't speak with her mother much these days. She listens to you, and I can list on one hand the male figures Serena Harrison holds in any kind of regard."

"Oh? And how many might that be?" Nelson was curious. He was till learning about aspects of his estranged daughter's personality, and what he picked up from time to time was very surprising. This was a bit of information he had never guessed at.

"Well, her stepfather for one. She idolized Archie Harrison. He’s the reason she picked Archaeological Studies. There are a few random professors from college that she still keeps in touch with. Then there's my dad, now you and Lee." She left out Chip's name, because she wasn’t sure yet how her brother fit into the equation.

"Sir?" she asked, somewhat timidly. Nelson turned, and they locked eyes, sapphire blue into sky blue.

"Yes?"

"Thank you, for offering to set with him."

"I'm an old hand at this. Go along now. Chip should be turning over the watch to O'Brien soon. I know he hasn’t had the time to really check on Lee, you can brief your brother on Lee's condition."

" Yes sir," Wendy said. Harriman could hear the smile in her voice, watching as she vanished silently around the corner. Turning back to the young man, he reached over and gently grasped his hand, hoping Lee would somehow know he was there. How many times in the past had he done this for Lee? The son of his soul, Lee Crane had a special place in his heart. Harry wasn't sure how he would have managed with out Lee's encouragement and prodding. It was Lee's insistence that eventually lead to the final designs on the Flying Sub. Lee was also a defining factor when the radical changes for Seaview's first refit were proposed, making the Control Room and the Observation Deck into one. To a different degree, the same could be said for Chip Morton. When the skipper was out on one of those blasted ONI assignments, it was Chip who held the crew together, and when there was a crisis, it was Chip's steadfast accountability that the crew looked to for a solid foundation.

"Which ever one of you guys is playing tricks, I'm onto you. You can knock it off, unless you wanna be polishing the bilge tanks with Q-tips," he warned. There was no answer. Moving cautiously, Sharkey peered around the corner. Lying in the floor were the two bodies of Henderson and Watkins. Henderson lay flat on his back on the deck; Watkins lay crumpled in a heap, a pool of blood spreading under his head. Reaching down, Sharkey checked the pulse on both bodies, but he found no sign of any life. He got to his feet, heading for the mike hanging on the wall. Doc had to know about this. A shadow fell across the corridor before Sharkey could get to the mike.

"Ma'am, I don't know where you came from, but, ah, you . . ." Sharkey's voice trailed off as she came closer, placing a pale hand on his chest. He found it increasingly heard to breathe, as if there was a thousand pound weight in his chest. He somehow found the energy to back way, but when he backed into a bulkhead, he had nowhere else to go. She drew nearer, his panic and fear rising as she caressed his chest, neck, then up to his face.

"Don't worry, you'll never feel a thing," she whispered, and locked her eyes onto his. Sharkey was helpless to break away, and slowly his word faded into a gray nothingness.

"Jamie knows what he’s doing. He’ll have Lee up and about before you know it."

"I hope so. I hate seeing him like this. He seems so helpless, all because of a stupid accident." There was no mistaking the underlying note of bitterness his sister's voice.

"You don't blame Serena, do you?" Chip asked. Wendy frowned at her brother.

"Gracious no, why in the name of common sense would I do that? It wasn't her fault; she didn't push that thing over on him. It was just an accident. Where on earth did you get that idea?"

"Oh, that's absurd! Chip, I have to talk to her," Wendy got to her feet, and headed out the door. She stopped just short of the door, and whirled back around.

"She's been hold up in the lab most of the day, researching that wreck. I saw her about an hour ago and she said she was thinking about turning in, so she may be in your cabin."

"Thanks Chipper, you're my favorite big brother," Wendy tossed out and was gone.

"Wen, what are you doing here?" she asked weakly, still slightly confused, her surroundings unfamiliar to her sleep fogged mind.

"My cabin too, remember? I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't know you had already turned in. You seemed to be having another of your nightmares," she said, concerned.

"Snap out of it. Serena, focus, you're drifting on me. Focus, here on me." Wendy recognized the precursor to a panic attack, something Serena hadn't had in months. She snapped her fingers in front of the red head's face, and Serena's eyes slowly focused on the blond.

"Haven’t done that in a while. Don't miss it," she growled, now more agitated than anything. "You wanted to talk to me?" she asked Wendy.

"It was suggested that you were blaming yourself for Lee’s accident."

"All I'm suggesting is that some people's friends are concerned about them, that's all. I want you to know I don't blame you for what happened."

"Then you already know what I'm going to say, and I'm only going to say this once. It is not your fault, you couldn't have stopped it, and it would have happened if our positions had been reversed. If I so much as suspect you're blaming yourself, I swear, I'll kick your tail-end."

"It was my idea to go after that thing. We should have just marked the position and come back for it another day. Lee would never be in Sickbay if I hadn’t had the bright idea to bring that thing onboard. Because of that I could loose what little respect I might have earned from the crew."

"No, I think I’ll go back down to the Rec Room, watch some television or something. I can’t sleep right now, and I don’t want to keep you up. Don’t wait up for me."

"Woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. I thought I’d see how things were going down here. How’s Lee?"

"He’s just a little restless. He might be coming out of it a bit earlier than Will expected."

"Jamie always did have a time keeping Lee under."

"I think she still feels guilty about Lee getting hurt. I sent Wendy to talk to her; maybe she can talk some sense into her. I tried talking to her, but I don’t think I was very convincing."

"Mister Morton, just what are your intentions concerning my daughter?

Nelson watched Chip’s reaction from the corner of his eye, the officer's body language turning defensive and closed. Nelson had noticed Chip's interest in Serena from the moment she stepped foot on Seaview. He figured this was a good a time as any to let the young man know what he though of his obvious interest in his only offspring. Collecting his thoughts, Nelson considered his words carefully.

"Chip, I’ve known you since you first entered the Academy. Even then, I could see you and Lee were an unbeatable pair. I’ve always known if there was any way I could lure the both of you away from the Navy, I would have a command duo beyond compare. Of course, I had to wait a few years for that to happen. Pulling you off the Farragut and making you Seaview’s XO is one of the best things I could ever have done. I’ve trusted you with my life and the lives of a hundred and twenty five men more times than I can count. Lee trusts you. The crew would walk through fire on your orders. Do I make myself clear, son?"

"Well?" Nelson prompted.

"Yes sir, you’ve made yourself very clear. I’ll try to live up to live up to your expectations, sir. Convincing Serena my intentions are honorable and sincere will be a little more difficult."

"Lad, if I didn't think you were sincere and honorable, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I believe your shift starts at 0600. Like I said, he’s been a little restless, so be on your toes."

One amber hazel eye opened and fixed on him. Chip smiled reassuringly. "About time you started waking up," he said.

"Why does my mouth taste like I gargled with bug spray?" Lee croaked, closing his eye again.

"You know Jamie’s drugs have their draw backs. Let me get you some water." Chip stood and brought back a glass from the faucet. He swiped a straw from the cabinet and handed the glass to Crane.

"Bobby's got everything under control. My shift doesn't start for a couple of hours yet. Are you in any pain?"

"Not really, just sore. What happened? Things are kinda fuzzy."

"You had a little accident. Doc says you're going to be fine, just settle back down and rest a little longer."

"Yes, the Admiral had a couple of divers bring it in once we got you recovered."

Lee took a deep breath, relaxing as Chip sat by his side. He could rest, knowing nothing was wrong with Seaview, and with Chip in command, he didn’t have to worry about the crew. The crew. Why was he worried about the crew all of a sudden? Lee felt himself slipping back into sleep. He felt so tired, it would be good just to close his eyes and sleep a little longer. Chip would watch over things until he was back on his feet. He’d be better in the morning.

"Talk to her, Chip. Make sure she knows . . ..it was an accident, not her . . .fault," Crane muttered before giving up and drifting off to sleep.

"You are the one who found me," the figure said, moving toward Serena. Harrison took a step backward, bumping into the edge of the door frame. There was only one thing she had found in the last twenty-four hours.

"You look good for a two hundred year old wooden statue," Serena quipped, the words catching in her throat, not sure what she was actually seeing. Serena felt her mouth go dry. "Just what are you?" she managed to croak out.

"In life, I was called Moira," she said, turning her head sideways, watching the red head.

"Don’t worry. My kind has no power over you. I seek prey of another gender. It is part of my punishment, you see," the strange woman said, still moving forward. Serena had backed up against the bulkhead, never moving her gaze from the figure in front of her.

"No, I don't see, why don't you explain it to me," she replied, trying to buy some time.

"I loved my husband, I truly did. But he was gone for so long. I grew lonely. When my husband found out about my infidelity, he hated me. I couldn't live without him so I tried to take my own life. It was the honorable thing to do, don't you think?

"I was given a choice, you see. I could join my husband on the seas. But I grew jealous of him and his crew, of this ship that kept him away from me. I sat out to destroy the crew and my husband. Men are such weak, foolish creatures. The world would be better off without so many of them. Don't you agree? Haven't you ever been wronged by a man? I thought I would start off with your gallant, young captain, " Moira said, her voice dropping into a soft hiss as she spoke.

"Such a strong sense of duty and honor. How do you think he'll take it when I show him what I'm going to do to his crew?"

"I just have to keep you out of my hair until my work here is done. I can't have you warning anyone, now can I?" Moira whispered. Serena lifted her head to see the other woman standing over her. The figure stepped nearer, and reached out for the half-conscious archaeologist. Moira's cold fingers slid along her jaw line, tilting her head up until Moira could stare into Serena glazed green eyes.

"And what do you fear, little one?" Moira whispered. Serena felt the blackness reach up and swallow her as she slid into unconsciousness.

"Just what exactly killed Watkins?" he asked.

"What about Sharkey?"

"The Chief seems to be suffering from extreme, and I do mean extreme fatigue. His heart rate is depressed, so his blood pressure is down, and his electrolyte balance is shot to pieces. I have no idea how or why."

"I wish I could answer that, Admiral. My biggest issue with the Chief is his immune system. As weak as he is, he’s at high risk for every bug floating around on this boat. I've got him in low grade antibiotic as a precaution and I'm monitoring his heart rate."

"Theories?" Nelson asked, taking another drag off the dark brew in his cup. Will just shook his head.

"Admiral, I've dealt with a lot of weird things. Possession, skippers with gunshot wounds getting up and walking out the door, mutant viruses, but this? It defies explanation. It’s like somebody literally sucked the life out of him."

"Easier said than done," the eldest Morton sibling shot back and walked into Sickbay. What he found should really have been no surprise.

"Lee, what are you trying to do? Get your six back in bed before Jamie kicks it there," Chip ordered.

"Easy, Lee," Chip warned as Lee lifted his head. Crane waved his friend off.

"Thanks, but I'm better now."

"Maybe you should tell Jamie about this," Chip suggested, knowing Lee would protest.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine. Once I get a bit of breakfast, I'll be good to go."

"You stay here and I’ll have something brought up for us. Sit. Stay. Good skipper." Grinning evilly, Chip patted the top of Lee’s curly head.

"Breakfast is served, oh Capitan," said the blond with a bad French accent.

"You sure this isn't your plate? There's enough here to feed half the day watch."

"There are starving crewmen in Engineering who would be happy to have that. Eat. You need more than coffee, coffee, toast and coffee," Morton urged, attacking his own plate. He heard Lee sigh and looked up in time to see him roll his eyes.

"You're channeling your mom now. This just keeps getting better," he replied, but picked up his fork and attempted to put a dent in the plate.

"Have either of you seen Serena?" she asked worriedly. Chip stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth, his eyes suddenly shadowed by concern.

"Last time I saw her, she was in the Lab, researching the FarRanger. I thought you were going to talk with her."

"No, not in all the years I’ve known her. You think she might have wandered off and fell into something?" Wendy asked.

"I don’t know. She’s never been one to wander where she knows she shouldn’t be. She wouldn’t go into a restricted area, I know her better than that," Lee said, obviously thinking hard. Meanwhile, Chip was up and moving toward the mike. A few seconds later his calm, commanding voice sounded over the intercom.

"Dr. Harrison, please report your location."

"You needed me sir?"

"Ski, get a search party together, about four men. Dr. Harrison’s not answering the intercom. See if you find her, make she she’s alright."

"Aye sir. I’ll get Pat and Riley, and Garrison. We’ll find her sir, don’t you worry about that. Ah, sir, how’s the Chief?"

"That’s good news, sir. I’ll pass the word along."

"The Admiral’s not going to like this," Chip stated, picking at this hash browns.

"How the devil does someone get lost on a submarine? You sure she’s not just ignoring the intercom?" Nelson suggested, rubbing the end of a pen across the top of his right ear.

"Sir, I’ve never known her to ignore the intercom, no matter how involved she was in something. Wendy says she wasn't in her bunk this morning, and she wasn’t in the Rec Room. I've got a detail looking for her right now."

"Will?" Nelson called out. Jamison looked up, his expression grim.

"Could this be from Henderson, or Watkins? Sharkey, even? They were all found in this corridor," Nelson suggested. Will shook is head and Nelson felt something in his stomach take a nosedive.

"Chip, I want the search parties doubled. Report to me the minute you find anything. I mean anything, a footprint, an open hatch, anything. I also want to see your sister in the storeroom, with Serena’s research. I think its time I knew more about this figure head we brought in."

"How much background does she have on this thing?" Nelson asked. Wendy was sitting on a stack of crates, Serena’s computer in her lap as her fingers danced across the keys. She never looked up, her gaze entranced by the lines of information running across the screen.

"She’s been putting the database together for years. This is everything she has so far concerning the FarRanger." She handed the Admiral the laptop and stood, wondering over to the figurehead, looking it over carefully. As far as she could tell, it was the same pose, the same stance as when they brought it in. What was she looking for? She began running the incidents through her head. Lee’s accident. Three crewmen dead of unknown causes. A fourth dead from blunt force trauma. Sharkey in some weird exhausted coma-like state. And now Serena was missing. Was there a connection? Certainly they all started when they found the wreck. Serena was better at the research than she was. Wendy was better at organizing, scheduling and coordinating everything. History just never appealed to her the way it did to Serena.

"According to her research, the FarRanger had six captains and forty-six crewmen in three years. That's one devil of a turn over, even back then," Nelson said from his perch on the crates Wendy had vacated. She wandered back over to him, standing just off his shoulder, looking at what Serena had collected over the years.

"No offense Admiral, but we don't know for certain this came from the FarRanger. Not even Serena was positive, only that we were in the right area. We have no real proof, other than this figurehead," Wendy said.

"Which matches descriptions of the logs of the first skipper and owner, Jonas McDonnagh. He purchased the figurehead from the owners of the Moira Elaine. The Moira, it seems was found derelict on the open sea, her crew dead from unknown causes. According to Serena's research, no one wanted to own a death ship, so she was decommissioned, and the figurehead, as I mentioned, McDonnagh purchased and had placed on the prow of his newly commissioned FarRanger. From there, the FarRanger get a reputation as a dead man's ship, followed by some dark curse."

Serena slowly came to with a pounding headache and the sense that something was terribly, horribly wrong. She was slouched against something solid and cold, and the blackness was absolute. Great. I can’t even hitch a ride home with out running into trouble. Wendy’s gonna love this. Kidnapped by a two hundred year old statue. That’s new ,even for me. Where the blazes am I? Desperately, she tried to ignore the choking blackness. She couldn’t have a panic attack, not now, not here. Serena felt her heart hammering as ten year old memories clawed their way to the surface. The blackness, the dust, the pain as the bones in her right leg were snapped in two . . .

She pulled herself to her feet, using the bulkhead as a support. Once on her feet, the archaeologist pressed her back harder up against wall, its reassuring weight behind her. Serena took a deep breath, noticing she was beginning to shake. Since the tomb collapse, Serena had battled a fear of the dark. Irrational and unreasonable, she knew, but the darkness touched off a fear in her that so far she had been unable to conquer on her own. Serena looked around, trying to remember if she had ever been in this room. There simply wasn't enough light to see by. Wherever she was, Serena was fairly certain she had never been in this room before.

Wendy Morton would have liked nothing more than to smack her big brother across the back of his blond head. The only problem with that was she was fairly certain she would be breaking some obscure Navy law: Thou shalt not smack Lieutenant Commanders upside thy head, or something to that effect. She was currently cooling her heels in the lab, setting at the table with her own laptop in front of her. Chip refused to let her take part in the search and the Admiral was backing him. What infuriated her more was they both were right. She simply did not know the layout of the sub well enough to be of much help. So instead she opted to hide out in the Lab and work on the pictures Patterson had taken. Lee was sleeping after another dizzy spell made him half sick. She wanted to sit with him, but with Serena missing and unable to help, Wendy needed to stay busy. Hovering over Lee wasn't going to help any and she needed to keep her mind distracted. Trying not to give in to the need to pace, she settled down on the stool and made herself focus on pictures.

"Nothing?" Lee asked, pushing himself up into a setting position. Chip shook his head and dropped dejectedly into the nearby empty chair.

"Nothing," Chip repeated, his voice flat. "Lee, we've searched this tub from bridge to keel, bow to stern, and nothing. No sign, no hint, nothing. It's like she completely vanished. The Admiral's joined up with the search parties. I'm not sure it's such a good idea though," Chip replied wearily, running a hand through his grimy blond hair.

Lee drew back in alarm. "Why not? He knows this boat as well or better than anyone. If anybody can ferret out where Serena is, it's the Admiral," he said.

"That's not the problem. What if we find her and she's, Lee, what if she's dead? What that going to do to him?"

"Chip, Serena is not dead. You've seen how she operates; she'd have put up one devil of a fight. She'd have marked who ever might have attacked her. Anyhow, who on this boat would dislike her that much to want to kill her, knowing she's the Admiral's daughter?"

"I don't know. What if she fell down a hatch or something? How am I gonna explain that to Wendy? I haven't had the chance, I mean, there hasn't been time for me. . ." Chip stammered over his words, trying to make his point, but unable to get the words to come out. Lee reached out and gripped Chip's arm, trying to be supportive.

"Chip, we'll find her. A little worse for wear probably, but we'll find her," Lee said.

"Where's Admiral Nelson?" she asked, a bit breathlessly. Chip raised an eyebrow.

"With the search parties. I told you, you don't know enough about Seaview. . ."

"I designed this software to filter pictures though different lighting. Sometimes when you filter pictures you can pick up details not visible to the naked eye. She originally used it on tomb carvings, so you can see images under the sediment," she explained, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she brought up the program. Stepping back, she turned the screen around to face the two officers.

"What the devil it that?" Chip asked, his voice low, eyes wide.

"Lee, please what’s wrong?" she pleaded. She reached out and cradled Lee's face in both hands. He closed his eyes with her touch, trying to find the words to express his terror. But Lee couldn't explain. His world narrowed down to one voice, one calling, and he whirled, heading for the door. Chip grabbed him by the arm and spun him around.

"Lee, what's wrong? Let us help you!" he pleaded. Lee stared at his friend. Yes, Chip could help him. No, Chip, wouldn't understand. He couldn't know what he had seen, what she had shown him. Chip's blue eyes were clouded with concern and worry as he held tight to Lee. Finally Lee managed to fight around the voices in his head. He felt his knees buckled and Chip caught him around his chest, under his arms, holding Lee upright. Desperate for an anchor to the real world Lee clung to Morton like a drowning man clings to a life raft.

"She's calling me, Chip, but she’s not real, she’s just a dream, right?" Lee’s voice trailed off to a whisper. Chip felt the body of his best friend go completely limp and felt Crane's head loll onto his shoulder. Holding onto Lee tightly, Chip grabbed for the mike on the wall.

"Dr. Jamison to Sickbay on the double!" he fairly yelled into the housing.

"Sir, you need to come to Sickbay. Ms. Morton has some information to pass along," Chip said, purposely being formal with his sister's name to cover the anxiety he was feeling for Lee.

"Chip, what's wrong with him?" she whispered. Chip just shook his head. How could he explain everything he had seen, everything Lee had encountered? Aliens. Kruger. Mason. He wasn't sure Wendy was ready to hear all that just yet.

"I don't know, sis. The Admiral and Jamie will figure this out."

"Lee, no, you need to rest, buddy," Chip was pleading with Lee as Crane tried to break Morton's grip on his wrists.

"WE HAVE TO STOP HER! SHE'LL KILL THEM ALL IF WE DON"T STOP HER!" Lee yelled, but he just didn't have the strength to fight Chip. Jamie moved in, a hypo in one hand. With Chip holding Lee down, Jamie managed to swab Crane's bicep and get the needle in. Seconds later Lee quieted, but didn't stop. As Jamie stepped back, Lee locked his confused hazel eyes on Chip, and began pleading.

"Chip, you've got to help me. It not real, she's not real. I know that, but I still hear her. You can't see what I see. Make her stop, please, make stop," he begged. Chip sank down next to his brother in all but blood, desperate to help.

"Who, Lee? Make who stop? You know I'll do anything to help, but I don't know how," Chip said. Lee reached up and wrapped his fingers around Chip's shoulder.

"Moira. Chip, her name is Moira. She's some kind of curse, some dark curse. Please make her stop!" Lee froze, the cocked his head to one side, as if listening to something only he could hear. Chip was watching as Lee's confused dark amber eyes suddenly cleared. "The freshwater tanks. Port side. Intake room," Crane muttered, then he spasmed, fingers locking on the blankets and the mattress, gasping as he struggled for breath. Just as suddenly as it started, Lee collapsed back against the mattress, unconscious once more.

With one last look at Lee, Chip bolted for the door, heading for the lowest levels of Seaview.

"Serena?" Chip called out but got no reaction. Moving closer, he found Harrison lying on her side on the floor and unconscious. He dropped down next to her, taking one wrist and feeling for a pulse. Her skin was clammy and the pulse was erratic and weak. Shock. He had seen it enough to know. Serena stirred weakly, muttering something under her breath. Chip lifted her up in his arms, feeling her shiver as tremors wracked her body. She never opened her eyes, but buried her head in his shoulder.

"Where's the armor?" He heard her mumble. He glanced down at her, puzzled. Chip carried her up the corridor, ignoring the looks from crewmen he passed.

"What armor?" he asked quietly. She put one arm behind his shoulder; the other had a death grip around his neck.

"Knights are supposed to wear armor . . ." Serena said just before she passed out once more. Chip couldn't help wondering if she would remember this once she came around.

"Slow down, woman. Let somebody help you." Wendy’s worried Chicago drawl cut through the pain. Serena felt hands helping her sit up. Eventually she was able to talk the other eye into opening and she looked around with bleary eyes. The first thing she saw was Lee, tossing and struggling in the bunk across from her. Restraint straps around his wrists held him in his bunk.

"What's wrong with Lee?" she asked timidly, not really sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"We have a small problem," Wendy intoned, her gaze split between Lee and Serena.

"Define small."

"Would you believe four dead crewmen, Sharkey in some weird, exhausted state and Lee convince something is calling to him? Oh, and then we have this."

"What the devil?" she asked, taking in the grotesque visage.

"That’s kinda what we thought."

"And Lee?" Nelson asked, with a toss of his head at the restless commander.

"I'm not sure how or why, but I think she’s targeting him. Something she said, about his sense of honor and duty . . ." Serena trailed off as she tried to remember what Moira had said. How do you think he'll take it when I show him what I'm going to do to his crew? ' Is that what she said? Watching Lee toss, she put two and two together and realized that Lee was stuck in some kind of nightmare, unable to banish the images Moira was showing him.

Nelson moved toward the door, fists balled. The welfare of Seaview at risk, as well as Lee's own life and sanity. Something had to be done.

"Chip, we need to check out that storeroom. Get some weapons from the arms locker and meet me in there, just aft of the missile room."

"Aye sir," Chip replied and headed out to follow orders.

"Will, nobody leaves Sickbay until I get back, is that clear?" The Admiral turned his gaze to stare pointedly at the red head in the bunk. She rolled her eyes at the remark clearly aimed at her and turned her attention back to the haunting photos.

"We'll be here when you get back. Please try to make it back in one piece," Will suggested.

"That's the general idea, Will," Nelson replied following Chip's exit.

"She must have some kind of hold on Lee, some kind of connection. I'll bet it happened when we brought that thing in, when he was attacked. I wonder if this is ever happened to him before," she said, dismissing one theory after another, trying to find a pattern. She completely missed the look that passed over Jamie's face as she muttered to herself.

"Attacked? Serena, that was an accident, wasn't it?" Wendy's voice dropped to a whisper as she sat down in the chair next to Lee's bunk.

"You might be right about this thing having some kind of connection with Lee. He told us where you where. Chip nearly broke his neck getting down there to find you. Lot of effort for a gimpy chick," Wendy replied with a wry smile. Serena ignored that last remark, choosing instead to refocus on the screen, slowly picking up speed as she typed.

"He's growing weaker by the minute and I don't know why," he said sadly.

"So were is it?" he asked.

"That is a very good question. Serena is convinced, for whatever reason, what ever it is responsible for four dead crewmen, Sharkey, and is trying to take over Lee. I'm beginning to believe her."

"Admiral, experience has taught me never to bet against your hunches." Chip said, slowly circling the storeroom. That’s when she came out of the darkness.

"Chip, come on lad, let's move." Nelson urged, grabbing Chip by the arm and pushing him out the hatchway. He stopped long enough to dog the hatch. By then it was hammering on the inside of the hatch, the hatch itself shuddering under tremendous blows. Both men backed away from the door hatch.

"It's not gonna hold much longer, sir," Chip warned.

"I think you're right. Let's get out of here," Nelson replied. Both men turned, running up the corridor, trying to get to the safety of the next hatch. Behind them the hatch door was blown outwards, the force of the blast knocking both Chip and Harry flat to the ground. An unearthly wail started up, carrying throughout the corridor.

"Admiral, get out of here!" Chip yelled, pulling his automatic and rising shakily to his feet.

"You first, son. Now move," Nelson pushed Chip toward the hatchway, his own service weapon drawn. That's when something slammed into them, knocking Nelson through the open hatch, and throwing Chip against the bulkhead. Morton slid to the deck, dazed, dark blood running from a three inch gash on his forehead.

"Chip!" Nelson called out, trying to get Morton's attention. Chip looked up as the wailing grew louder. At the end of the corridor, the skeletal figure in a tattered black dress moaned and wailed, coming closer to the downed officer. Chip tried to get to his feet, Nelson moving in his direction to offer the Exec some assistance.

"A what?" Jamison asked incredulously. Serena gave him a tired smile. Wendy sat on the edge of Lee's bunk, leaning against the support, her arms crossed over her chest. One delicate blond eyebrow was raised as Serena launched into her explanation.

"A succubus. It's the only thing that makes sense. She told me she tried to kill herself, but when she died, she was given a choice. She could rejoin her husband, but she was jealous of the tie he had with his crew and his ship. She killed her husband and the entire crew of the Moira Elaine, the ship that was named after her. As best as I can figure, her spirit, or soul, or whatever, inhabits the figurehead, and when then Moira , she was added to the FarRanger, continued the killing spree. In three years she worked her way through forty-six men. Then Sean and Patrick Wexford bought and refitted the FarRanger to ship arms and supplies from France to Ireland. They made three runs, they never came back from the fourth trip. Two hundred years later, we stumble onto the FarRanger and get the bright idea to bring the figurehead on board. Now it's loose, and she's killing again."

"And Lee?"

"Master at Arms, lay aft to the missile room corridor, on the double. I want armed guards posted at all exits." Nelson's voice bellowed though the intercom. Within minutes the Admiral reappeared in Sickbay.

"Admiral! What happened to you? Where's Chip?" Wendy was the first to see the bruises on his face and exposed neck. She was on her feet and moving towards him before thinking. Nelson waved her concern way as he looked down at his daughter.

"It's gone and it's got Chip," Nelson said quietly, patiently fighting off Jamie for the moment.

"You let her take Chip? How could you? She'll kill him!" She pushed back as Jamison tried to stop the blood flow on her arm, while Wendy tried to get her to set back down.

" I'm not likely to forget, ADMIRAL Nelson. YOU might not have any idea what this is, but I do," she announced in a voice that could have sunk the Titanic. She choked back the fear his tone touched off, desperate to make her father listen.

"Oh, and just what gives a marine archaeologist such insight into the realm on the unexplainable?" Nelson challenged. Serena rose shakily to her feet, ignoring Jamison's protests, to stand toe to toe with her father. Four inches taller than her, Nelson seemed to tower over his daughter, his eyes like sapphire fire. By sheer accident, Nelson had found one of the few buttons he would learn could guarantee a reaction from Serena. That button was the subject of Chip Morton.

"What makes a retired four-star Admiral such an expert?" she challenged.

"It's the only thing that makes sense. A demon who takes the form of a beautiful woman or in the case, as far as I can tell, the cursed soul of a suicidal adulterer. This one hates men, and had killed close to fifty at this point. She picks her victims and slowly drains them of their energy and will until they just die. According to the legend, no man can resist the gaze of a succubus."

"And now she has Chip," Nelson whispered closing his eyes, remembering how Chip had froze, unresponsive as he called his name, seeing the panic in the other man's eyes as that creature dragged him away.

"Admiral," Lee whispered, forcing the words out, too weak at this point to even open his eyes. Nelson leaded over, placing his hand on Lee's, the flesh cold to the touch.

"I'm here, lad, just save your strength," Nelson said.

"If it is a succubus, how do we stop it?" he asked.

" Absolutely not. You are in no condition to gallivanting around Seaview," Nelson barked, glancing up sharply.

"But I can help," Serena protested, her fingers gripping the railing of the bunk.

"No, and that's final. You are staying here." Nelson's voice had the command tone that few men dared not argue with. Apparently, the tone did not work on members of the opposite sex, or rather, ones that shared half his genetic makeup.

"I'm going. You think you can face this thing? I know what she's capable of. Can you look it in the eye?"

"I can try."

"Maybe you should listen to the Admiral. Stay here, I'll go with him."

" No, you're staying here as well," Nelson said, with a glance down at the still form of Seaview's skipper.

"No way. I'm going. There's nothing wrong with me, and if you think I'm staying while something sucks the life out of the man I . . .out of Lee, you are sadly mistaken. Sir." Wendy crossed her arms, her blue eyes burning with an intensity Nelson had seen on far too many occasions.

"Will, these two ladies are not to leave Sickbay. I'll post a guard if I have to," Nelson replied coolly, meeting Wendy's intense gaze and seeing her drop her eyes to Lee, his chest laboring with the simple effort to draw breath.

"Then at least tell me what you're planning," Serena pleaded, trying not to think about Chip, slowly being drained of everything that made him who he was.

"Lee, just relax, the Admiral has a plan," she tried, undoing the restraints from his wrists.

"Lee, I can't let you . . ." Jamison began, only to have Lee interrupt him with a shake of his head.

"I know what she's thinking. We're connected, somehow. You have to let me help. I can't let her kill anyone else, please, Jamie. You don't know what I've seen." Lee was pleading, begging for Jamie to see his point of view. He couldn't give up, he had to fight this, he was stronger than this. He could and would face this and win.

"Chip?" Nelson stepped forward. The creature, the succubus, Nelson reminded himself jerked Morton's head back even further, digging her claws farther into Chip's unprotected throat. There was a sharp intake of breath from the young man and Nelson stopped.

"Let him go." Harry tried.

"How about if I just rip this one's throat out? You cannot stop me. No man can stop me. I'll take this whole ship and I'll be beautiful again, you'll see," she hissed at him. Chip closed his eyes again and Nelson saw a shudder run through the younger man's body. The succubus also seemed to shudder and the rotten flesh over her blackened bones rippled, filling in, lightening, but not quite human looking again. Nelson made the mistake of looking her in her remaining eye. He found his muscles locked, and a voice echoing in his head. Too late, he realized Serena had been right, no man could resist the gaze of a succubus. He stood there, muscles locked, unable to move.

"Let them go and you can have me," came a new voice from the door. Moira tore her gaze from Nelson, shifting to the door. With the spell broken, Nelson whirled to see Lee Crane standing in the doorway. Or rather leaning into the doorway. Pale and unsteady, Lee looked more dead than alive.

"Why would I give this one up now? I give you the gift of being last, and the knowledge of knowing how you'll die, once I take your crew, one by one," Moira replied, digging a little harder into Chip's throat. This time a small sound escaped Chip and the creature's thin lips pulled back in what passed for a smile.

"I won't fight you any more. Let him go. We'll take you to shore. You can take me with you, just . . .let him and my crew go," Crane pleaded, his head hanging dejectedly. It took all his strength to just stay on his feet, despite the stimulants he had Jamie pump in him. Even now he could feel her pulling what little strength he had left. Come on, you two, any time now. . .

"Lee, no . . ." Chip managed to croak out, fighting against Moira's grip. She dug her talons further into his throat, tightening her grip. With both hands, Chip tried to break her grip on him, but it was like grabbing at steel bar. Another wave of dizziness washed over him as she pulled more from him, sapping his strength even more. Moira would kill Lee and there was nothing he could do.

"I can't let her hurt anyone else, Chip," Lee said, clutching at the hatchway frame, desperately trying to stay on his feet.

"Admiral!" he shouted and gave the gun a toss through the air. Nelson plucked the weapon out of the air as it sailed toward him, just in time to block Moira's down swing. A new voice cut over the enraged howling.

"Stand back, Admiral!"

"Let her have it, Pat," Ski said grimly. Both men engaged the 'throwers and the succubus was engulfed in flame. Her rage-filled howling rose to a eerie, high pitched scream as she writhed, throwing herself against the walls of the Missile Room, banging hard again the missile silos. Harry dropped to his knees and pressed his hands against his ears, trying to block out the hideous sounds but it kept getting louder and louder. The glass housing on the dials and most of the lights in the Missile Room cracked and burst, showering shards of glass onto the floor and bathing the entire room in a dim gloom.

"Kowalski, get a detail together, clean that up and dump it back into the sea. I don't want so much as a splinter left onboard Seaview," Nelson ground out, looking around for his redheaded daughter. Serena was leaning against the bulkhead by the missile racks, Wendy at her side. Pushing off the blond’s offer of assistance, Serena made her shaky way toward the door. She looked up to see her father's eyes fixed on her.

"Told you I could help," she said tiredly.

"I could have sworn I told you to stay in Sickbay until this was over," Nelson said dryly, trying to look serious, and not quiet pulling it off. The relief he felt that nobody else was hurt was hard to hide from his chiseled features.

"Ma'am, the Admiral says he's about ready. I've come up to get your stuff, if you're packed," the rating said.

"Sure, that's all I have," she said indicated her stuff with a wave of her hand. "You can go ahead and get that loaded. Is Wendy's stuff already loaded?"

"Yes, ma'am. She's in the Wardroom, with the skipper, having breakfast," he said, gathering up her packed luggage. Surprised at how little she had, Ski was more than happy to see her stuff loaded on the Flying Sub.

"Hey Ski," she called out before he left the cabin.

"You wouldn't happened to know where Mr. Morton is right now, would you?" she asked, a bit timidly. She had a few things to say to Chip that she hadn't gotten around to saying yet. She wanted the air clear between them before she left.

"Thanks Ski. Just get my junk loaded will ya? Tell the Admiral, if he asks, where I am?"

"Yes ma'am. Ah, Dr. Harry," Ski said somewhat timidly. Scuttlebutt had it that she felt bad about all the things that happened over the last few days, and he had something he wanted to say her. Serena fixed Ski with a curious green-eyed gaze, the question unspoken in her eyes.

"I just wanted to say that was a brave thing you and Ms. Morton did. The skipper and Mr. Morton, they'd have done something like that. I've don't know too many ladies who would put themselves in harm's way for somebody else. The officers, they're important to us. It's nice to know they've got somebody more than just us looking out for them."

"No problem, ma'am. Hope to see you again soon." With that, Ski headed down the corridor, leaving Serena alone again.

"Meet you in the Control Room," she said before leaving the Ward Room. Serena nodded and shifted her attention to Lee. The bruises on his neck had nearly healed, just faint dark smudges at this point. Pretty soon they would be gone and forgotten.

"How are you feeling? No after effects?" she asked. Lee gave her a quick smile.

"Lee, I'm really sorry. I should never have pushed to have that thing brought aboard. I should have marked its position, and done some more research on the thing. You and Chip could have been killed and it was my fault. I'm sorry, if it's worth anything."

"You lost four crewmen. That thing killed four of your men. They didn't deserve to die that way," Serena interrupted.

"Yes, four men died. It's regrettable. But not your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself. That's an order. Understand?" Lee spun her around, both bands on her shoulders. Lee looked into her eyes, hoping she would believe him. He got a small smile from her as she looked back up at him.

"Aye, aye sir. Now if you'll excuse me, I really need to talk to your Exec."

"Sure thing. Oh, and Serena,"

"Yeah?"

"Have a nice trip. I think you'll like the Flying Sub." With that Lee walked out of the Wardroom, leaving Serena to deal with Chip. She walked over and pulled out a chair, setting across from him. His wounds were still quite visible. The cut on his forehead was healing nicely, not even bruising. The five marks on his neck were another matter. Bruised and still red, the marks stood out against his naturally fair skin. Despite Lee and Kowalski's words, she still felt odd about the events of the last few days. Maybe after a week on site with Jafri she could put a few things into perspective.

"Fresh out of brownies. I've got an extra piece of toast though," Chip teased, waving a buttered piece of toast around.

"No thanks, I'm good. Commander, I never really thanked you for finding me, after Moira carried me off. Things got a little crazy, and it sort of slipped my mind. I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful."

"Just my job. Sub jockey, part babysitter, part knight in shining armor," he replied. He could still remember holding her, how she shook, the way she buried her head into his shoulder, how she held onto him, like she afraid to let go. Serena gave him an odd look. Obviously she didn't remember much between the time he found her and when she woke up in sickbay.

"Knight in armor. Right. Anyhow, thank you."

"You're welcome. Like I said it's just part of my job. There's still the matter of my brownie. You owe me, Dr. Harrison," Chip said, his eyes dancing. He watched as she seemed to take a deep breath, like a diver about take a plunge.

"Yeah, about that, I'm sorry. I don't normally steal people's desserts."

"Wendy's been nagging me to take a real vacation. I'll take a couple of days, veg out on the couch. I still haven't completely unpacked. I doubt Wendy's gonna let me within a hundred feet of my office. The Admiral wants me to consider moving onto the Institute grounds. Maybe I'll let him talk me into it," Serena replied and waited. Chip didn't say anything, and Serena heaved a mental sigh. So much for that idea.

Chip finished his breakfast and made his way to the Control Room. By the time he had arrived, FS1 was gone, headed east. Seaview sat on the surface, waiting for further orders.

"They're gone?" he asked, glancing out the windows at the early morning sun just breaking over the horizon.

"I did suggest we change course. We can be in Naples in a few hours and have a repair party work on the system, but he said he was in a hurry, and it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. It might be nothing, just a glitch," Lee replied. He looked up, to see Chip chewing his bottom lip, something he did when he was deep in thought about something.

"Something wrong?" he asked the Exec. Chip just shook his head.

"Not really. Just thinking about Wendy and Serena. First there was that mix up with the mummy case in Cairo, and then this figurehead thing. I can't help shake the feeling that those two girls are a classic pair of trouble magnets," Chip replied. Lee chuckled and turned his attention back to the daily log.

"Well, I won't worry too much. They're just going to Crete for a consultation. They won't be out there a week before the Admiral picks them up and meets back up with us. I'm more worried about the Admiral, and all those scientific types gathered together in one spot. What if somebody decided to take advantage of this summit?"

"Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to concentrate mapping this area here," Chip indicated a quadrant on the map, not far from their current position, and not more than a day's sail from Naples and Crete.

"So you're not worried about the girls?" he asked.

"Not really. Chip, Crete's an island, lots tourists. What possible trouble could those two get into? It's their job, and we're better off leavening them to it."

"I think Wendy can handle things. She manages Serena pretty well. Go ahead and set a course for this area, I don't want the crew on alert, but I do want to keep up with the local news feeds. Something happens, I want to be ready act immediately.

"Right. You think there might be trouble?"

"The Admiral has a lot of enemies. I don't want to be caught off guard in case any thing happens to him, or any of the other scientists there, for that matter. "