seaQuest was created by Rockne O'Bannon. The premise of the show and the characters who appeared on it are the intellectual property of Amblin Television and Universal Television. I am making no monetary profit in my use of these concepts, and have only the highest of respect for the artists who so ably portrayed these characters. The only remuneration I require is feedback informing that the stories are being read and enjoyed. I appreciate reader comments and criticisms as to how this sQ series can be improved. If you have a comment, criticism or suggestion, please, e-mail me.

Treysa Barlow is the brainchild of Paula Behanna who kindly allows me to use her character as needed. Irene Adler is my own creation. ---ki (XMP)

"I am NOT going to a male strip joint with you, Treysa Barlow. And that's final." Ari Adler turned away from her friend, co-worker and unofficial big sister and flipped the last two darts up at the board on the far wall with both hands in an underhand move without giving it much of a glance. Trey Barlow looked at the two missiles quivering on the outer circle on the opposite sides of the old pub board. She sniffed with disdain and looked down as Lonnie, the third member of their group, marked the points, her eyes indicating it was her turn to try persuading their stubborn friend about the proposed outing. When Lonnie Henderson nodded, Trey retrieved the darts and moved back to the line while Ari, pretending not to see the exchange, returned to her position on the bed looking over Lonnie's shoulder, her bare feet tucked carefully up to prevent the drying polish from smearing.

"Oh, come on, Ari," Lonnie piped up cheerfully obeying the unspoken request, handing the pad up so that the smaller ensign could check the numbers. "It wouldn't be the same without you. Clara says that this place has the most outrageous performances and we haven't had a girl's night out in so long. You owe it to us." Ari chuckled as Trey placed her heels against the line drawn on the floor, her own bright red toes facing her two friends. She took aim backwards, tossing the dart over her shoulder.

"I owe you? How do you figure?" she asked, her face alit with amusement.

"Easy, kid," the older ensign answered for the other woman. "Since you got back from the Caicos, you've been so wrapped up with Romeo Ortiz that you haven't been exactly available to the rest of us."

The youngest, smallest member of the trio of seaQuest ensigns felt a cold shiver run down her spine. "Don't call him that," she snapped with sudden testiness. "His name is Miguel. And I still don't know why you want me with you."

"Education. Yours. Tell me, Adler, how many guys have you seen nude? Huh? How can you settle on just one if you don't know what you're missing?" Trey looked at her throws and blew a raspberry. "Now look what you've made me do!" she accused. Lonnie laughed out loud, a clear, ringing peal.

"My turn," she said, jumping up. "And if you'd look at the board before throwing, you'd get a much better score." Trey looked over Ari's shoulder has the short woman picked up the score pad.

"It's about Miguel, isn't it?" she said, mockingly. "He's the reason you won't go." Ari refiguring the totals, checking Lonnie's addition, nodded abstractly.

"Hmmm-mmm. Five, I think." she murmured. "In a way."

"Ok, either you're afraid of what he'd say if he found out, or you're still trying to prove to him that nothing happened between you and that... ah, officer, whoever it was...." Ari shrugged. She consistantly refused to discuss her recent abduction, letting Trey form her own conclusions as to the implications of the gift General Miguel had sent afterward. "Come on, Ari! This isn't like you. You can't let him think he can order you around or else, next thing you know, he'll have you barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen."

Ari burst out laughing, unfolding her legs and stretching out her feet to display the recently painted toe nails for the other woman's notice. She held up three fingers and began counting the points off.

"Let's see, I'm already barefoot, which you should know, because you are the one who insisted on painting my toes. So that's one. I've got Kitchen Patrol in ten minutes, so that's two. Two out of three, not bad" she claimed, reaching for a clean pair of socks. "As for the last," she shrugged, slipping her feet into the shoes at the side of the bunk and lacing them up. "I would be needing some help with that, then, now wouldn't I?" Standing up, she turned the score pad around, handing it to Lonnie. "You win again."

Smiling with pleasure, the tall young woman preened herself, before patronizingly commenting, "You know, if you two would stop practicing trick shots, I bet you could get good at this game." The others started laughing. "What? What is it?"

"Lonnie, honey," Trey put her arm over the other's shoulder, "if we weren't good at this game, we wouldn't be making trick shots. Right, Ari?"

Grinning, the little ensign began shooing her friends out of the room. "Sorry Lonnie, but she's right. And it is more fun this way. And Treysa? You can't have it both ways, you know."

"Huh? Have what both ways?" that worthy asked, stepping out of the way so Ari could shut the door. "Tim and Miguel?"

"NO! Not that either!" She glared up at the elegant woman, then gave a crooked grin, shaking her head with a snort of laughter. "I can't be both a know-it-all, bossy pint-sized martinet and a submissive little woman, you know. Make up your mind. Either one or the other." Trey's head shot up as she recognized some key phrases that she'd used in conversations she'd fondly thought confidential. Searching the clear blue eyes of her best female friend for signs of resentment and finding only amused tolerance, she gave a small sigh of relief and shrugged.

"I don't understand you, Adler. Doesn't anything get your goat?" Ari shrugged dismissively.

"Yes, but not that. Anyway, The reason I don't want to go with you is, well... See, it's like this. I joined the UEO because I wanted to be a sonar op more than anything. But, when Miguel is on duty, I can't play with the WSKRS, and when we are off duty together, I can't play with the WSKRS. This is the first time since the end of January that he's had other plans. So I get to handle them. Besides which," her face broke into a blinding smile as the three women stepped into the corridor and shut the door behind them. "I lied." With an impish wink, she hurried off toward the galley, leaving Trey and Lonnie staring after her.

"What did she lie about?" Lonnie asked uncertainly. Trey snorted, shrugging her shoulders.

"Probably about lying. Come on, let's see if Wendy wants to go."

"Hey, Adler. We've had an accident out front, clean it up, will ya?" Ari waved and went to pick up the cleaning bucket.

"Sure Riley. Keep an eye on the timer for me, will you? And put the next batch in when it dings."

"Yeah, sure thing, kid." Not that she was really needed in here now, Ari thought, heading out of the kitchen. She'd been mixing, kneading and shaping for the past couple of hours, and now all that needed to be done was to change the pans as the sticky rolls finished baking. Riley was just giving her a break from the heat. She knelt down and started picking out the cutlery from the mess on the floor.

"So, Barlow," Ari recognized the slightly nasal, Brooklyn tough accents of Seaman Tony Piccolo. "Didja get her to agree? Is she goin' to see the show?"

"Nope. Nada. No way. I didn't think that she would, though, she's way too uptight. But I heard that Miguel is going with you, huh?" Trey replied. Ari started moving more slowly. Miguel was going where?

"Yeah, you shoulda seen him. He almost jumped at the idea of actually seeing a real woman in the altogether. And one part of him did jump to attention." Treysa Barlow laughed a trifle maliciously.

"Maybe that's the secret attraction between them," Piccolo continued. "She orders him to stand ready for inspection, poor guy."

"Tony," Trey replied warningly. "I've told you, that's none of your business. What about Tim?" The last question referred to Trey's beau, the tall communications officer, Lt. Tim O'Neill.

"Yeah, he's comin', too." Trey giggled and murmured, softly, "Maybe later." Tony snorted his amusement. "I don't unnerstan' though. Why'd ya want Tim to go? Don't it make you feel weird to think of him there watchin' a bunch of almost naked women?"

"Naw, Tony. You see, he goes out and gets all hot and bothered and then he comes back to me. I win." She sighed, adding pensively, "I was hoping to do something like that for Miguel." Ari sat up, the impulse to get out there and have it out with the other woman fighting her instincts to stay hidden and avoid embarassment.

"You and Miguel? No way!" Tony echoed Ari's thoughts. "I thought that you and the lieutenant had an agreement?" There was the sound of something hitting, and Trey laughing.

"No! I mean, get Ari in a state and turn her over to Mig. Sort of a late birthday present. But the little wretch would't fall for it. She'd rather stay here and play with his balls." Tony choked.

"Run that by me again?" he asked, almost politely.

"She's got some things she wants to try with the WSKRS, Tony," Trey explained. She sighed again, and Ari continued pretending to clean up the fallen food.

"Well, you may be out of luck yourself, girl," Tony informed her, "It's amateur night at the PussyCat lounge. May not be anything worth seeing."

"No!" Trey sounded upset, then she started giggling. "Maybe I should go try out?" Tony made a considering sound.

"Hey, I like that idea. But whaddaya think Tim would say about it?" he countered. Trey laughed again, slyly.

"What about Ari?" she asked archly. "Can you see Dr. Doolittle up on stage in front of a bunch of guys, stripping it off." From the sound of it, there was another mess to be cleaned up as Tony spewed his drink across the table.

"Naw, I can't see it. I can't imagine her even strippin' down to take a shower," he answered. "There's just somethin' about that girl. It'd be like imagining Ford with, oh, Henderson. Unnatural." Ari finished sweeping the scraps into the bag and picked up the bucket. Moving carefully so that the two conversationalists wouldn't see her, she returned to the kitchen, feeling very thoughtful indeed.

Tony tapped his foot, looking at the watch on his wrist and glancing over at Tim and Lucas. It wasn't like Brody to be late for something like this and as for Miguel, in spite of the Brooklyn native's boasting, it hadn't been all that easy to get him to agree to go to the show. Only the fact that the little ensign had made it very clear that she was planning to stay on board, alone, and work had made it possible. And if she got hold of the sensor chief, then that was that. Tony shook his head. Lo, how the mighty have fallen.

Miguel finally arrived, looking harassed and out of breath. "Hey, any of you seen Ari?" he asked as soon as he was in earshot. Lucas perked up his ears, the way the kid always did whenever the girl's name was mentioned. Didn't make sense. You'd think she was some kind of beauty queen the way they acted. Tony shook his head.

"Isn't she in the WSKRS lab," Tim asked. Miguel shook his head no.

"I wanted to make sure that she really did want to stay on board, but she wasn't there. She wasn't on the bridge or in the galley or down with Darwin ..."

"So maybe she did change her mind and go off with Trey and the others," Tony suggested. Miguel's face darkened ominously.

"To a strip joint? No. Not my Ari," he replied repressively.

"She's not YOUR Ari," Lucas butted in insolently. "And she's of age." Tony snorted. Yeah, she was, by a slightly larger margin than Lucas was, and not much in either case. That was what really rankled with the kid.

Jim arrived before Miguel could take exception to the words or the tone of voice. "Somebody," he declared portentiously, "has walked away with the pop-up targets!"

"Wasn't me!" Tony joked, then swallowed at Brody gave him a black look. "Hey, it wasn't me. Those things ain't worth the trouble. No profit to it." The big, burly security officer shrugged his broad shoulders. He was the only one of them taller, bigger and more muscular than the fit sensor chief, both of whom observed a rigourous daily workout to stay in shape, part of the SEAL training they had had. Tony had no desire to get on the bad side of either man, although it was easier to reason with Miguel, usually.

"What the hell, let's go," Brody decided, leading the way onto the shuttle.

Tim closed his eyes and concentrated on the music playing, the best part of this routine. He wished that he'd managed to talk Trey into doing something rather than going on this ridiculous "Boys Night Out / Girls Night Out" thing. While some of the acts had been interesting, they'd all been derivitive. A few had been decently done, but the majority had been unimaginative and rather tedious, vulgarity and over-exposure replacing the tease. The emcee came out on the stage as the girl, another tall blonde with improbably long, straight hair, the third of the night, picked her clothes up to an applause more polite than aroused. Tim looked over toward Miguel and raised his eyebrows. After a glance down at his watch, Miguel nodded, standing up.

"So, let's hear it for Sweet Annie." the announcer encouraged, clapping his hands together soundlessly. "And now, we have a last minute addition, a woman of mystery and adventure. Please welcome, Miss Renee Paul." Almost to the door, Tim stopped, feeling something familiar about the name. He pulled on Miguel's arm, halting and turning him around.

The stage went dark for a few minutes, and then spotlights began circling on the stage The music began to play and one spotlight settled down to high-light the slight leather-clad female form that stalked out from behind the curtains, significantly smaller than the other entrants. A leather mask covered her face from nose to forehead. She stood, poised to begin, her eyes insolently scanning the room, dismissing every man there. Somehow, without any obvious moves, her trim, petite body exuded the promise of danger, and more. Tim and Miguel returned to their seats, neither one needing to discuss the decision.

*For your eyes only, can see me through the night* She ignored the audience of drunken, rowdy men, beginning to move through a routine that was equal parts dance, acrobatics and maritial arts routine. Reaching down, she slowly unzipped one side of the tight black leather leggings, then the other, revealing lacy black stockings held up by a leather garters ending in exercise type shoes. A figure popped up. In a lightening quick manuever, she somersaulted around and kicked it down, slipping out of the pants at the same time.

"That's one of the seaQuest figures!" Jim claimed sitting straight up, staring in the direction that it disappeared.

"How could it be?" Tim cajoled him, feeling anxious that he would insist on investigating. "They all look alike and you couldn't tell at this distance. You've just got them on your mind." He glanced over at his dark friend, staring at the figure on the stage.

"Hush you two!" Tony ordered, then caught sight of Miguel, leaning forward, concentrating on the woman on the stage, and he disobeyed the injunction himself. "HEY!" he crowed. "Looks like Adler's got some competition after all, huh, Miguel?"

"Shut up, Tony," he answered absently, his eyes never leaving the woman. As if she felt his gaze, she looked over at the table of UEO crewmen and locked glances with him.

*I never felt until I looked at you, For your eyes only, only for you* She slowly unzipped the tight jacket, pulling it apart, moving to the music, a seductive half smile on her face as she held Miguel's gaze captive with her own. Another figure popped up and her hands blurred out, throwing two knives at once, both solid thunks to the chest. She spun around and twirled the jacket off stage.

Miguel stood up and moved closer to the stage. After a moment's hesitation, Tim followed, aware of Lucas close behind, seemingly mesmerized by the routine.

*Maybe I'm an open book because I know you're mine, But you won't need to read between the lines* She stood directly in front of the three of them, revealed in a tight black leather vest, with a zipper up the front, garter belt, stocking and panties. Removing the vest, she managed to strike down yet another pop-up figure using an improbably placed dirk.

The song winding to a close, she stood near the curtain entrance. Watching Miguel as thought he were the only man there, she started pulling up the black silk tank top, revealing a small imperfection to the left and a little above her navel. Even before that was uncovered, Miguel had exploded into action, jumping on the stage and tackling the unknown stripper, rolling with her off stage and out of sight behind the curtains, while the last line rang out. One of the bouncers jumped up trying to get on the stage after him. Tim jabbed him in the side, knocking the wind out of him before jumping up on the stage and pushing another one down. Lucas tripped third and pulled another person out of the way.

Rolling away from the stage, Miguel came to a stop and looked down at the small figure in his arms. She reached up and removed the mask. "Whoooff! Oh, Miguel, that was exhilerating! Did you like it? What did you think?" Ari's face was rosy and shining with pleasure. She started to stand, to head back out and Miguel grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, bending down to pick up the jacket and hand it to her.

"Get your clothes on!" he ordered, then growled between gritted teeth. "And just what did you think you were doing?" Her eyes grew hurt and her brow wrinkled with dismay as she obediently took the proffered item and pulled it on.

"You didn't like it?" she asked faltering, starting to retrieve her discarded pants. "I didn't do it right? What did I do wrong? That was the way the girls did it in the shows my uncle took me to see. I mean, you came here to see that sort of thing, didn't you?"

"But not my girl. Look, we'll talk about this later. Let's get out of here. Do you have any clothes." Ari nodded zipping up one of the legs and pointing to it. "No, I mean real clothes."

"Well, yeah. I've got my uniform in a bag. Would you rather I put that on?" He couldn't see her face, she was looking down as she pulled up the zipper, but her voice sounded very young and unsure.

"NO! These will have to do. Hurry up and get dressed, I'm getting you out of here before anyone else sees you." As Ari uncertainly began to pull up the other zipper, the emcee came bustling up.

"What do you think you're doing, interrupting the performance like that?" he yelled at Miguel, then caught sight of what Ari was doing. "And what are you doing? Get out of those clothes and get back out there to take your bows," he ordered reaching for her arm. "And try to stop that riot you induced." Miguel put his hand out to intercept it.

"Go!" he ordered Ari, his teeth gritted ominously. "As for you. She's done here." Looking the muscular chief up and down, the emcee drew himself up and sniffed disdainfully.

"And what was the meaning of all that out there?"

"I asked him to do that," Ari replied coolly, apparently recovering her aplomb. "I knew that I needed something special for an ending, and when I saw all the military out there, this idea occurred to me. This UEO sailor agreed to help me out, and that was that. As for bows, it would be better for the piece if I didn't. Could you have some of the stage hands help me with my props? Thanks. And thank you, sailor. You'd better get back to your friends, now." Her tone of voice indicated that it was more than a suggestion. Dismissing them from her attention, Ari picked up one of the targets and strode away.

For a moment, the two men stared at her back dumbfounded, then the emcee turned to Miguel, his eyes wide with a question, but Miguel ignored him, taking off after her.

"Wait! Wait up a minute. Where are you going?" the sensor chief asked angrily, taking her by the arm and shaking it. She pulled out of his grip and turned, her head raised proudly.

"I'm going back to the boat, as you suggested," Ari answered quietly in a cold, hard voice. "You should get back to the others before they come looking for you. You wouldn't want them to see me, I think you said." Turning on her heel, she strode away again. Before Miguel could react, a couple of the club bouncers appeared.

"Mr. Vanduce says that you should leave now," one of them said almost politely. "This way." A man walked past carrying one pop-up target, and Miguel shrugged, letting the club employees direct him out the backstage door into the main room.

*The passions that collide in me, the wild abandoned side of me. Only for you, for your eyes only.* The lights went out and stayed out for several moments, even as the audience went wild, yelling, whistling, trying to induce the woman to return. Piccolo and Brody joined the other two, fighting to keep anyone from following Miguel. As the fight spread through the room, they were able to slip away, almost to the door before the lights finally came back up and the brawlers calmed down, looking to see the woman that had obviously attracted their whole attention. Instead of a partially clad woman, the emcee stepped out, looking back behind himself uncertainly.

"Umm, yes, that was Miss Rene Paul, woman of mystery. And as you can see, the UEO is on the job, protecting our interests." Someone yelled back "I don' wanna be protected. Bring her back." The chant started "Bring her back! Bring her back!"

"I'm afraid I can't," he insisted. "She really was taken away." While he was trying to convince the crowd to settle down, Miguel tapped on the door from outside, trying to persuade the others to come out, looking very grim.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested, his tone of voice making an order of it. Looking around Tony observed, "Yeah, before they lynch you. Why'd you do that, anyway, Miguel?"

He ignored the question, merely repeating, "Come on." Once out in the street, Tony tried again.

"Look, Mig. We aint gonna tell your girlfriend, but I'm dying to know. Why'dja do that?" The Cuban sensor man shrugged.

"She asked me to. Said she needed a big finale to the strip and thought that would be it."

"Then why didn't she stay for the judging? I bet she would have won." Lucas asked. Miguel gave him a crooked grin and snorted with laughter.

"She didn't because her boyfriend was in the audience, and recognized her. He was waiting backstage to take her home." Looking over the head of the kid, he caught the eye of Tim, who raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. Miguel answered by raising one brow noncommitally.

"All I can say, Miguel," Jim said, putting his arm on the chief's shoulder, "is that you better hope Adler doesn't find out about this, or you are toast."

Sitting curled up into a ball on her bed, Ari was feeling absolutely miserable. He hadn't liked it. Tony was right. She wasn't sexy and there was just no way she could be. That was the real reason General Miguel had sent her back to the cell. She just didn't have what it takes, and they all knew it.

If she had the guts, she thought sadly, she'd give Miguel the boot and free him up to find a real woman, not some cut-rate, half-pint cutsey little imitation of one. She rested her chin on her knees, ignoring the tears quietly running down the sides of her impassive face.

There was a knock at the door. Ari ignored that, too. If she didn't look at it, then it wasn't there. That was the way she'd always done things. The sound was repeated, then the door opened and Miguel stepped in. Contrary to regulations, he shut the door, pulling down the privacy shield and turned to glare at the back of the woman on the bed.

"Ok. Now, tell me exactly what it is that you thought you were doing?" he demanded.

"Go away," her voice was ice cold. There was no sound of tears in it. Miguel stepped further in, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Not until you tell me what you were doing there!"

"You don't have a thing to worry about. I changed before I got back to the boat, dumped the outfit, got rid of the i.d. and put the targets back. There's nothing to connect seaQuest with the strip and nothing to shame you. Now go away."

Miguel took Ari's arm and pulled her around, stopping with dismay at the sight of the tears streaming down her frozen face, tears that her voice gave no hint of. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he shook his head with concern.

"Ari. You're crying?"

"No I'm not," she replied, denying the obvious, pulling free and standing up to walk away from him. With her back to him, she continued, "I don't cry, I don't feel, I don't do a lot of things. I'm surprised you haven't heard. Dr. Doolittle, that's me! Only good for talking to the animals and making the life of poor Chief Miguel Ortiz absolutely miserable."

"Tony!" Miguel breathed quietly in accusation as understanding dawned. "What did she say to you?"

"Nothing. Tony doesn't say anything to ME about it." Hugging herself with her arms and hunching her shoulders, Ari said, "I heard that you were anxious for the chance to see a real woman. I ... I wanted to see if I could compete." Biting her lower lip, she added, under her breath, "And I couldn't." After a few seconds, she added, "So, would you please leave, Miguel. I don't want ..." But he interrupted her, turning her around and gathering her into his arms.

Kissing the top of her head, he reassured her, "I don't know who told you that, but it was a lie. I only went because Trey wanted Tim to go for some reason, and he wouldn't unless I did." Ari pushed him away.

"But it is true! Look at me!" Stepping away, she held out her arms and rotated slowly. "My legs are too short, my ass and chest too big," raising her hands up, she fluffed out the short, disordered curls, "my hair too fine and curly to do anything with except cut it, and forget about the colour. And for looks?" She snorted unhappily, "My face is too round and ordinary to be anything special." Miguel blinked, surprised by this bitter litany of faults, a distortion of reality. Shaking his head with disbelief at her self mis-perceptions, he missed his chance to respond.

"And look at you, Miguel," she continued, gesturing with a dramatic hand. "You are ... You are the image of a romantic hero. Tall, dark, handsome, heroic, and sexy as all hell. You deserve someone who matches you, someone tall, and striking, and aristocratic. Someone that, ... that others don't pity you for being with. Someone who suits you. That you deserve to be with. Not someone like me."

"STOP THAT!" he yelled, startling her into looking at him. "You're right, I don't deserve you. But I'm proud that you chose me anyway. I won't let you just walk away. Not without a fight. And nobody pities me for being with you." He snorted at the irony of the statement. "In fact, most of the men on board look at me and wonder what it is you see in me, including the captain. They want to know what I have that they don't have. And I laugh at them because I know. I have you."

Taking her by the shoulders, he pulled her back to the bed and sat her down. "Now, start by telling me what this is all about. Huh? Come on, spill it." Ari looked down, plucking at the covers nervously.

"I heard that you were going to that place, and would be coming back with your mind filled with thoughts of other women. I ... I wanted you to be thinking of me. When I found out that I'd have the last position, I was actually pleased," she snorted unhappily at the memory. "I thought that I'd be the last one you saw, and therefore the one you'd be thinking most of. I hadn't counted on how badly I'd mess up." Miguel couldn't help it. At this last, plaintive comment, he burst out laughing, hugging her close.

Surprised out of her funk, Ari stared at him with wide, wondering eyes. Then hurt filled them again, "I was that bad?" Her lower lip quivered threateningly.

"No! Oh, no, cara mia. Quite the opposite. You were fabulous. Didn't you see how the audience reacted to your performance? I'm surprised the fire alarums didn't go off," he laughed. Ari looked down again, picking at non-existant lint.

In a shy voice, she confessed, "No. I didn't see any of them. I was watching for you. I thought that you were coming closer because you liked it, until you yelled at me backstage. And then I realized that you knew it was me all along, and you were ashamed of me. But," she gazed into his face, "how did you know that it was me? You shouldn't have. People only see what they expect to see."

Miguel smiled ruefully. "It was easy, carissima. I'd spent the entire evening wishing I were back on the seaQuest with you and the WSKRS. I was comparing each of the performers to you and wondering what I was doing there. None of them could match you. Then you stepped out, and I knew. I just knew. I was so afraid that someone else would see."

"And that's why you wanted me to leave. So that you wouldn't be embarassed when the others found out."

"NO!" Miguel stood suddenly, looking at her with dawning understanding. "Ari, do you have any idea what kind of black mark that could put on your record?" She blinked up at him, shaking her head slowly. "You little idiot. Something like this could ruin any chance of command you might have."

"What? Why? It was just a dance," she protested. "That doesn't make any sense." He closed his eyes.

"Trust me. Don't do anything like that again without talking it over with me first." Ari shrugged, not understanding the caution, but accepting his word on it. He kissed the top of her head and she put her face up for him to kiss that, too, so he did.

"As for not liking it. Madre de dios! You were fabulous, you were so hot I thought the place would go up in flames. I only wish ..." his voice trailed off.

"What? What do you wish?"

"I wish we'd been alone when you tried that. Too bad you threw that outfit away. I'd liked to have seen you in it when I could concentrate." After hugging her, he held Ari out at arms length to examine her face carefully. "But I don't understand why. I wouldn't have thought that you'd do something like that. Why?" She broke away and stood up, her back to him.

"For you," she confessed shamefacedly. "I get so tired of everyone pitying you because of me. 'Poor Miguel, he's got the coldest girl in the fleet. She can't even raise the temperature of a thermometer.' " Miguel thought that he could guess the speakers from her mimicry. "I wanted to prove that I ... that I am worthy of you, or something." Standing up behind her, he put his hands around her waist and held her close.

"Why?" he whispered the question again into her ear. "You don't have to prove anything to me. Don't you know that I wouldn't want to be with anyone else but you?"

"Not even Sarah Toenin?" she asked pointedly, craning around to examine his face for reaction. There had been some talk about the attraction Miguel had felt for the beautiful, exotic folk singer the seaQuest had transported to the base on Solitaire for a USO show while Ari was in the Caicos conferring with Malcolm Landsdowne. Miguel snorted.

"Especially not Sarah," he assured her. "I want someone I can tuck up under my arm and carry in my pocket." At the joke, Ari pushed his hands apart and walked away, standing rigidly in front of the terminal on her desk, staring at nothing, her back tense and unhappy.

"I wish I were taller," she said tonelessly. "Then no one would make jokes like that, or call me half-pint, or short stuff or ... or any of the rest."

"That really does bother you, doesn't it?" he asked, incredulously.

"Surprised? I don't know why you would be. Yes, I'm short! I've always been short and I always will be and there's nothing that I can do about it. Now, just go away and leave me alone." Instead, Miguel crossed the room and forced her to face him again.

"Listen up. You are just the right size for me. Do you understand me? I DO NOT want another woman. I want you. And I want you the right way, not sneaking around corners, hiding in hotel rooms." He gave her shoulders a little shake. "But if that's what it takes to convince you ..." he continued, "Then we still have time to go out and get a room." Ari shook her head, looking him in the eyes for the first time.

"You really mean that. I don't understand. Why? I mean, why doesn't any man ever want to ... But you do. Really? Miguel," she stopped, shaking her head in puzzlement. "I ... I didn't realize, I thought, I can't figure out what you see in me. But ..." She pushed away, taking a step back, her expression worried and puzzled. "I ... I don't want to sneak around. I mean, I want to ... to be with you, but I don't want either of us to get into trouble." Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down.

"No. I'm sorry, Miguel. I ... It's just so hard to believe that you could, that you could really care for me." She looked down at her feet, asking shyly, "Did you really like what I did?" Miguel forced her head up again with a hand under her chin.

Kissing her gently before answering, he nodded. "Yes. Very much. I almost missed my cue at the end, I was so caught up with your routine." He grinned. "And I think that Lucas has a new crush." As Ari blinked blankly at the non sequitor, he chuckled. "Never mind. I'll tell you what, though," he continued, running his hand lightly down the side of her neck and onto her shoulder. "I'd like to see you perform again, a command performance. But pay attention to the words to that song." His hands continued down her body. "And make sure it's for my eyes only." Ari nodded, putting her hands up around his neck and drawing him to her level, promising in the most honest way she knew that she would do as he wished.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. With a shrug, Miguel released his girl and unlocked the door, revealing Tim O'Neill. "I thought I'd find you here," the comm officer exclaimed, slipping in. "Hi, Ari. I wanted to warn you, Miguel, that Tony's told Trey all about what happened and now she's on the warpath because of what you did. She threatened him with bodily harm if he tells Ari, and she's looking all over for you to read you the riot act. You'd better stay out of her way until she calms down."

Ari stared at him. "Why?" she asked with some confusion. "I would have thought Trey would find this very humourous?" Tim snorted and shook his head.

"You'd have to ask her. I'll go distract her, but I wanted to warn you two first." The tall, lanky lieutenant slipped out and shut the door behind him, leaving Ari staring at Miguel with some bewilderment while, for his part, he looked a little worried. Trey on the warpath was not something anyone wanted to be in the way of. After a moment, she started to giggle.

"If Trey's angry with you about me, then perhaps I'd better stick close for a while," she suggested, laughing. "She can't very well take it out of your hide when she's trying to keep it from me."

"All right, brat," he agreed. "I'm not proud, I'll let you protect me, so long as you do it at close quarters." He paused, looking around her cabin. "Didn't you have something that you wanted to do in the WSKRS lab today?"

"Sure, but it's a bit late, don't you think?"

"Maybe," he agreed. With a significant look at the largest piece of furniture in the room, he explained, "But if we stay in here for much longer, I don't think that Captain Bridger would be pleased with the results." Her eyes widened as his meaning became clear, then she laughed, taking his hand and leading him out of her quarters.

Thwarted in her attempts to get Miguel Ortiz off on his own for a good talking down, Trey slammed the peripatetic pop-up targets back into place. The way he and Ari were hanging around each other, laughing and joking with each other, made her feel even more irritated. He was just playing games with the kid, swearing undying devotion one second then running off with a common stripper the next. He couldn't treat her that way! If she found out, it would break her heart.

The marks on one of the targets caught her eye. These pop-up targets were designed for security practices, unarmed and armed both. They were made to be easily carried, weighted enough to be satisfyingly present when hit and to retain the marks of the last attack until smoothed away so that you could actually see how you hit it. Someone had forgotten to smooth the surface.

Trey touched the first one then the other knife mark on the chest of the target. Measuring them with her hands, she whistled softly. The distance was about the same as the outer ring of an old-fashioned pub dart board, if someone were tossing two darts off at the same time using both hands without aiming all that carefully. Thoughtfully, she reached out and removed the signs of the holes. Then, just as carefully, she examined each board as she put it away, cleaning up and leaving them in the blank, ready state.

Finished, Trey sat down on the floor and leaned her back against the wall. Tony had given a very detailed account of the last strip routine, apparently the one most worth seeing. And Jim had added in comments about the touches and hits the woman had made, impressed with her fighting skills. The abuses the figures had suffered matched their combined accounts. Adding in Miguel's actions and Tim's silences, you got .... Something unimaginable. But then, someone had once told her that a master tactician was someone who could imagine the unimaginable.

Slowly, Trey stood up and left the storage area, sobered and thoughtful, her temper quenched by the discovery. Before turning off the lights, she looked back, and nodded. Perhaps she really ought to watch what she said about her crewmates. Sometimes, you just couldn't tell what a person might hear, especially if that person thought tactics in her sleep. She closed the door, leaving the room in darkness.

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