This is a work of fan-fiction based on characters and situations created by Rockne S. O'Bannon for the 1990s television series, seaQuest DSV. The seaQuest DSV concept and logo are registered trademarks of Amblin Entertainment and Universal Television.
I claim no rights to their intellectual or commercial property. Offered for entertainment only and in sincere tribute to their much-beloved creation.
Chapter 6
“Have you had anything to eat, Father?” Tim asked as soon as the mag-lev started moving. Most of his despair had vanished once he saw his priest in the flesh. While he wasn’t really looking forward to the hypnosis, he was ready to do anything to mend his soul. Father Baker would help him. He knew it.
“Not since oh-nine-hundred.”
“There’s a mess on B-deck.”
“Won’t Dr. Smith be waiting?”
Tim shook his head. “No, she’d probably scold me if I didn’t get you fed first.”
The chaplain chuckled. “All right, but let’s at least tell her we’re delayed.”
“She probably already knows.”
Father Baker shook his head. Either he thought Tim was rude and wanted no party to it, or he just didn’t understand.
“Umm, Father, did I ever mention that Dr. Smith is a telepath?”
One didn’t have to be psychic to read Father Baker’s surprise. Tim nodded to his questioning looks.
“Thanks for the warning.”
“She won’t read your mind without permission,” Tim said.
“That’s good to know. How does she feel about Romans?”
“She’s always been very respectful of my beliefs. She recognized that I needed to go to confession before I thought about it.”
A nod from the older man. “I think she was ready to have my head on a platter when she thought I wasn’t going to absolve you.”
Tim screwed up his face and lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “Mea culpa.”
“Wait. You thought I wasn’t going to absolve you?”
He looked down and spoke quietly. “I’ve read Dante. In Italian, actually.”
“And you assume your so-called betrayal condemns you to the deepest level of hell, with Judas Iscariot, is that it, hmm?”
Tim nodded, not taking his eyes off the floor.
Father Baker patted his shoulder. “I’ve done you a disservice in making you wait this long, Timothy. I should have gotten you and Dr. Smith on vid-link at once, or sent you to a closer priest. I’m sorry.”
Tim straightened. “I forgive you if you forgive me.”
The priest laughed. “That’s what I came here for, my son. Judas committed suicide. You’re willing to face what you did and repent. That’s all the Lord requires for forgiveness.”
Tim heaved a sigh of relief. Drop off luggage. Grab some food. Then get to Medbay. It couldn’t happen fast enough for the guilt-ridden lieutenant.
Father Baker seemed to sense his yearning and didn’t dawdle. Tim urged him to sit and enjoy his meal in the mess, but the priest took a sandwich and insisted he’d eat on the way. They didn’t bother telling Wendy of any delay, since they’d taken no more time getting to Medbay than had the chaplain decided to take a quick ion shower. She’d said, when you’re settled, and they were almost too fast to have done even that.
Still, Tim was not surprised to find Dr. Smith ready for them. She gave them a very brief tour, probably sensing how eager they were to get to business. The last room she led them to was a small room used for quarantines. While practically every room aboard seaQuest was watertight, this one sported extra silicone seals and no portholes. It was meant to be germproof as well as waterproof.
“How’s this for our hypnosis?” she asked.
Tim had seen the room before, but it had a bed and medical diagnostic equipment then. Tonight those had been replaced with three plush armchairs and a small table. It looked comfortable and very private. He couldn’t have asked for anything more suitable, anywhere. This is perfect. He didn’t say anything, waiting for Father Baker to pronounce judgment, but he looked up at Wendy and realized he’d just Transmitted. She nodded in silent acknowledgement.
“I can see why Timothy prefers to stay aboard his boat,” the chaplain said. “This is better than any confession booth I’ve ever utilized. Timothy?”
Tim nodded. “It’s great, thank you, Doctor.” He wondered when she moved all this furniture and where she could have stashed the bed, but it didn’t matter.
“Timothy should be in the center, right?” Father Baker asked Dr. Smith.
“Yes, I think that’s best,” she said.
Tim had been anxious to get started, but now his hands started to sweat and his stomach tightened. He tried to ignore his nervousness and took the center seat. Father Baker sat on his right and Dr. Smith took the left. Tim didn’t see where it came from, but the chaplain was already placing a stole vestment around his neck, whispering in Latin.
Tim genuflected, plucked up some courage, and blurted out: “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Dr. Smith spoke softly. “I need a little more preparation for hypnosis.”
“I don’t need it for this part, Wendy.” He was purposely informal with her. He wanted her to hear this as a friend.
Wendy blinked and gripped the arms of her chair. “Should I leave you alone then?”
“No, please stay. This won’t take long.” Tim turned to Father Baker. “I made plans to desert seaQuest, Father. I would have put my captain in a very awkward position.”
Wendy looked ready to say something. He knew she wanted to defend Captain Bridger, to say that he would have let him resign. Tim was pretty sure himself that the captain wouldn’t have invoked court martial. Technically, his 30-day leave hadn’t yet expired, so he wouldn’t have been AWOL for quite a while. But the whole plan was deceptive and manipulative, not to mention cowardly.
“Was this today, Timothy?” Father Baker asked.
“Yes, today. If we hadn’t been submerged, I would have been gone before I knew you were coming.”
“Well, then, thank the Lord for nice, deep oceans. I think I understand what drove you to such foolishness, but running away would only have compounded your problems.”
“I see that now. It was wrong.”
“Very well. Is there anything else?”
“Yes, but I need Dr. Smith’s help.”
Father Baker nodded and leaned back into his chair. He gestured toward Tim and spoke to Wendy. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Lie back and close your eyes, Tim.”
He drew a deep breath and did as she told him.
“You need to relax. I will ask you to lower all your mental defenses, so it’s very likely I will be able to read your emotions.” Her voice was even softer and more melodic than usual.
“I understand.” If she was reading him now, she’d realize he felt uncomfortable, but it ran in the same vein as the embarrassment he felt whenever a female physician had to examine him undressed. Humiliating, but sometimes necessary.
“I’m not trying to probe you. Whatever I perceive from you is irrelevant as far as your confession goes, so you need to talk to Father Baker. I’m just here to help you remember.”
Tim didn’t try to nod. She’d said to relax. He thought, okay, let’s do it, and wondered idly whether he’d Transmitted. Did he need to concentrate for that? Not going to worry about that now…
“Good. Slow your breathing and concentrate only on my voice.”
It’s so soft. So alluring. Did he hear a tiny chuckle? He felt a warm coziness enveloping his body.
“You’re feeling sleepy. It’s all right to let your mind fall asleep now. You’re safe here. You will remain able to speak while your conscious mind sleeps.”
Sleep? Yes, that would be nice. Good night… Time stood still. He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular and he didn’t hear Wendy’s voice for a while.
“Tim? Are you sleeping now?”
“Mmm Hmm.”
“I’m going to take your pulse, okay?”
“Okay, Doctor.”
“Call me Wendy.”
With no conscious mind to hold him back, he didn’t hesitate. “Go ahead, Wendy.”
He felt her fingers on his wrist. Soft. Warm. Sensitive. “You’re doing fine, Tim. I’m going to take you back to the time when you were Mariah’s prisoner on her attack sub. You can remember everything with complete clarity, but you are watching from a safe distance. It isn’t happening now. She can’t hurt you.”
His brows creased with the influx of memory. “She hurt us. We tried so hard to escape, but we can’t get away.”
“Who is ‘we’, Tim?”
“The conscious part of Tim and me.”
“Do you feel disconnected to your body?”
“Yes, the last jolt of genome-wave-energy rendered us unconscious. But I’m awake. I can stop the torture. All I have to do is give her the code.”
Father Baker interrupted. “Timothy, do you know who this is?”
“Father Baker.”
“Right. I have a question for you. Do you have a choice? Do you realize what it means to reveal this code?”
“It stops the pain. It keeps us alive.”
“What about your friends on seaQuest?”
“Tim won’t let me do anything to hurt them. The best he ever lets me get away with is sabotaging his dates. I don’t have control.”
“Tim is unconscious. You’re acting alone.”
“If I don’t give the code, we’ll both die.”
Wendy whispered, “Father, let me…” Her voice grew a little louder. “Tim, cluck like a chicken.”
She said it so casually. It didn’t occur to him to think about resisting. He clucked.
“Father,” Wendy whispered. “The state of his mind then was no different than what it is now. He’s in the military. He follows orders.”
He whispered back, “But I thought you couldn’t force someone to do something he truly doesn’t want to do?”
Wendy directed her voice back to Tim. “Did you know that giving Mariah the code would betray your friends?”
His voice faltered. “I—I thought he’d stop me. I tell him to say things all the time, but he doesn’t say them. He has the self-control. Oh, Father, I betrayed our friends. I wish I could take it back. I should have let her kill us.”
Father Baker asked, “Then you repent of this action?”
“Yes. I should have fought the impulse. I was selfish.”
“I’m going to absolve you now. But you should let your conscious mind remember so that you’ll feel whole again.”
“I can let him remember when we’re forgiven.”
Father Baker began praying in Latin. That was one reason Tim loved to confess to him and not a more progressive priest. Latin was such a beautiful language and so few spoke it any more. Most priests learned a few rote prayers, but Father Baker spoke the language. There were many times they talked by vid-link and never bothered with English at all. After the prayer, they conversed in Latin, with the chaplain reminding him of St. Paul, who had once participated in stoning Christians, but whom the Lord had forgiven. “We need our guilt to spur us to repentance, but the blood of Christ sets us free so we can move on.”
It dawned on Tim that Father Baker had switched to English at some point, but he was so enthralled with their exchange that he wasn’t sure when the switch happened. Was that for Wendy’s sake? he wondered. It had been a little rude to sit and talk for all this time in a language she didn’t understand. But she’d said herself that she was only there to help him remember. And she’d done that.
“Is there anything else you need to say, Timothy?”
“No, Father, thank you.”
Wendy’s voice was next. “Tim, I’m going to count backwards from five and each number will bring you closer to consciousness. You will wake up feeling refreshed and alert when I say ‘one’. You will remember only what is comfortable for you to remember. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Five…you realize you’re done sleeping and ready to wake up. Four…your heartbeat and breathing are steadily building up to waking levels. Three…you’re sensing the rest of the world around you. Two…you feel the circulation return to your muscles and feel energized. One…you’re awake.”
Tim opened his eyes. Both Dr. Smith and Father Baker were watching him. “What? Did I sleep all night?”
Wendy checked her watch. “No, it’s only been twenty minutes since we started. How do you feel?”
“Great, actually.” He stretched his arms over his head.
“What do you remember, Timothy?” Father Baker asked. He stood and offered his hand.
Tim blinked. “Everything, I think. I remember now what happened with Mariah.” He paused a second to absorb the new memory. “I also remember that I confessed everything and you absolved me.” He face broke out in a huge grin. He took Father Baker’s hand. It was over. Really and truly over.
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