He found Caroline in the infirmary, as usual, studying the Asgaard medical database. He pulled a chair over near her computer station and sat down.

"Whatcha looking at?"

She didn't remove her eyes from the screen. "Did you know that the Asgaard's cloning history goes back more than ten millennia! Just look at this!"

"Why? Would I understand a word of it?" He chuckled. "Do you?"

"Barely," she admitted. "It'll take me years to comprehend this fully. Right now I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Planning on making copies of us? Hey, a couple Carter-clones might not be a bad idea. All that brain power just might be able to get us out of this mess."

"Sam's already had the experience of meeting duplicates of herself. I'm not sure she'd appreciate another one." Caroline stretched and pushed away from the computer screen, turning to face him. Seeing his expression, she frowned. "What's up? You look worried."

"Oh, it's Mitchell."

"Of course it is," she said, unsurprised. "What's Cam done now?"

"It's that temper of his! He broke one of the hydro tanks in the arboretum this morning. He was venting his frustrations again. When I dismissed him, he stormed out swinging. It was an accident, but still…" He hesitated a moment, then plunged. "I thought maybe you could talk to him about it."

"No," she said flatly. "We've been over this before. I'm not a psychiatrist. I don't do counseling or behavior modification. I'm a physician. I treat the physical body…"

"Yeh, yeh. I got that," he cut in. He almost smiled. "But, after all, he likes you…"

"What!? Dad!"

He lowered his head to hide his pleasure. She called me Dad. It still gave him a thrill to hear it. Something good had come from being stuck on this accursed boat for a year. She was calling him Dad again.