Dr. Will Jamison’s phone rang in his office at the Nelson Institute of Marine Research’s hospital facility, Med Bay, disturbing his attempt to make sense of the data he had spread out on his desk. He’d been with NIMR now for about five months and was gradually coming to terms with his new job. The work here at the Institute itself was fairly straightforward, keeping employees and their family members healthy. The other half of the position, as CMO aboard NIMR’s research submarine, Seaview, was proving to be a challenge – in so many different ways! But Will was even beginning to get comfortable there as well. “Jamison,” he answered the phone, wondering what was about to implode his quiet.
“Better
batten down the hatches,” the voice of his boss, Admiral Harriman Nelson,
greeted him amiably. “Chip’s dragging
Lee your direction.”
Will
literally growled, and wasn’t thrilled with the chuckle he heard at the other
end of the line. “What’s he done to
himself this time?”
“I
actually have no idea,” Nelson admitted.
“Chip was laughing so hard I could barely understand him. He just wanted to make sure that you were
forewarned, and figured that having me do it was the safest bet.”
At
that Will snorted. “Understood,” Will
told him, and both men hung up.
Will
had no idea when he accepted the position with NIMR that one of his biggest
challenges would come in the form of one Cdr. Lee B. Crane, Seaview’s
captain. The man was one of the most
knowledgeable, competent, capable people Will had ever worked around. He also could care less about his health –
especially if putting himself in the path of injury would save someone else. And when he was sick or injured he simply
chose to ignore any and all infirmities and get on with the job at hand. Thankfully, Will had also learned early on
that Seaview’s XO, Lt. Cdr. Chip Morton, had been Crane’s roommate at Annapolis
and could be counted on when the need arose to help corral Crane, and coerce
the man into at least getting treatment.
Not that Morton was all that much better, Will had quickly and
disgustingly discovered. Gathering up
his papers of statistics and putting them into a folder, he headed down to the
Initial Care treatment area on Med Bay’s first floor.
* *
* *
Chip
wasn’t sure what he was going to find when he hit the Missile Room hatch. There was only a skeleton crew aboard doing
bits of maintenance here and there about the boat. Chip was servicing a navigation computer that
had suddenly decided to get a bit fritzy the last cruise – thankfully they were
almost home by that time so it didn’t cause any trouble. He suspected that a connection had jiggled
loose when Seaview had encountered some heavy underwater turbulence so he was
chest deep inside the service hatch when there was a quick, quiet call from COB
Jones requesting his presence in the Missile Room. Since there was very little aboard the
submarine that the COB couldn’t manage on his own, Chip brushed the dust bunnies
off of his uniform blouse, made a mental note to remind the cleaning crew to
check the corners a little better, and headed aft.
He
heard Lee’s voice half a corridor away.
“Drop it, COB. I’m fine!” Chip grinned broadly, then instantly
controlled his expression and walked softly up to the open hatch. COB Curley Jones and Lee were the only men in
sight, which actually didn’t surprise Chip.
Lee had only taken command of Seaview eight months ago and was still
learning where everything was, which bolt connected with which nut, and how
everything worked together. He’d already
made changes to several stowage areas – minor, usually, but always toward
making the crew, and the boat herself, more efficient. But he was mostly concerned with making
himself more efficient. When things were
quiet he would wander around, usually with a couple of clipboards loaded with
schematics of the boat, maintenance reports, parts lists…whatever he felt might
aid him in doing his job to the best of his ability.
At
the moment, however, Lee was leaning against the control winch for the Diving
Bell, scribbling a note of some sort on a clipboard. Chip noticed that there was a strained
expression, as if he was struggling to control one emotion or another, on his
face. He was also putting no weight on
his right foot. Since he’d been fine an
hour ago – the last time Chip had seen him – ‘something’ had just
happened. Deciding to harass his old
friend just a bit, since Curley was the only one to hear and he’d keep his own
council, he put his ‘XO Morton’ face on, leaned against the hatch opening,
crossed his arms over his chest, and growled, totally politically incorrectly
to his CO, “This explanation should be interesting.”
Lee
jumped and in doing so touched his right foot to the deck, not quite burying a
yelp of pain. Curley apparently decided
that discretion was the better part of staying alive and disappeared behind the
torpedo racks. Chip finally snickered at
the COB’s rapid exit and walked over to where Lee was once more standing, under
control, but again with no weight on his right foot.
“So…?”
Chip asked.
“So,
what?” Lee grumbled, trying to ignore his XO.
And best friend.
“So,
are you going to tell me what happened?”
There was no way Chip was letting Lee off the hook. Whatever had occurred, Curley thought it
important enough to instantly notify Chip.
That, alone, was enough to make Chip force Lee to admit to whatever
injury he’d suffered.
“I’m
fine,” Lee muttered, burying his head in the clipboard and hoping that Chip
would leave him alone. But in reality he
knew better, so wasn’t really surprised when Chip’s arms once more crossed over
his chest and he backed up a step to glare at Lee. He tried ignoring the blond, just on general
principles. They stayed that way for
several moments, neither moving. When
Chip moved his feet slightly apart, bracing himself for the long haul, Lee knew
that he was doomed. He finally lifted
his head only enough to look at his friend practically through his eyelashes
and sighed. “Hurt my foot on the locking
lever for the lower torpedo rack,” came out so softly that Chip almost didn’t
hear it.
Chip
very carefully controlled his face. “The
one Kowalski reported was sticking a bit when they loaded the last shipment of
armament,” he confirmed. A very slight
head bob was all the answer he got. “A
squirt of graphite didn’t solve the problem?”
That didn’t get a response at all, and Chip sighed. That report, when it crossed his desk,
should be interesting. For now,
however… “Come along, junior,’ he used
the moniker he’d assigned Lee at Annapolis.
He was careful, now, not to use it in front of the crew. But Lee had entered the Academy early, and
Chip had spent a year at his local junior college awaiting his acceptance, so
once thrown together as roommates the nickname had been a natural one for the
blond.
Lee’s
head popped up. “Where?” he demanded.
“Med
Bay,” Chip responded easily.
“No,”
Lee got stubborn. “It’s fine.” He sent Chip a bit of a sheepish look. “Or will be once it stops hurting,” he
admitted softly.
Chip
finally chuckled. “You want me to look
at it?” Sometimes, if Lee couldn’t be
dragged to an actual doctor, he’d allow Chip to help. Not an officially trained medic, Chip’s first
aid skills were still excellent.
“No!”
again came out firm, before once more the look softened that he sent his
friend. “Once I take my shoe off, I
suspect that the foot will swell up so bad that I’ll never get it back on.”
At
that Chip lost it and burst out laughing.
Lee glared at him but he, too, finally smiled
sheepishly. “Can you make it as far as
the boarding hatch?” Chip finally asked.
“I’ll have one of the little carts brought down.”
“Why?” The growl was back in Lee’s voice.
“Because,
junior, you’re going up to Med Bay. No
arguments,” he raised his voice over whatever one Lee was about to make. “We sail in four days and I need you
mobile. How else are you going to help
me keep Admiral Nelson from firing Professor Amberson out the torpedo
tube? You know what happened the last
time that dipstick was aboard.”
Lee
shivered. He’d only been in command a
couple of months and was totally unprepared for the obnoxious researcher’s
complete disregard for protocol. He’d
been extremely surprised when Nelson informed him that the man was to be
included on Seaview’s next cruise.
Apparently the man’s access to research grant money outweighed Nelson’s
disapproval of his tactics. Now,
reluctantly, Lee sent Chip a quick nod.
The blond headed forward, and Lee hobbled along as best as he could.
* *
* *
Will,
waiting by Med Bay’s front desk, saw the cart – like a slightly oversized golf
cart that the staff used for moving around the Institute grounds – headed his
way, and walked outside to meet it. As
he expected, XO Morton was driving. Cdr.
Crane, sitting next to him, was scowling, but that was also expected
considering his reaction to all things medical.
Will put a carefully benign expression on his face as the cart came to a
stop in front of him. “Skipper?” he
asked, also carefully.
When
Lee didn’t answer, Chip did. “Bashed his
foot on a piece of equipment.” While
Nelson had said that the blond had been laughing, Will still wasn’t ready for
the lighthearted lilt to his voice or the bright smile on his face.
Before
he could respond, however, Lee sent Chip a glare. “Don’t you have a computer to fix?” came out
hard, almost angry.
Chip’s
continued smile surprised Will, as did his backhanded salute. “Aye, aye, sir,” he answered smartly, but
spoiled the effect by adding an almost giggle.
It was all Will could do not to smile. He was still getting used to the antics
between these two old friends when things were quiet.
“Skipper?”
Will asked again, and offered him a hand getting out of the cart. He wasn’t surprised, or offended, when Lee
refused the offer and merely led the way to the closest treatment room. Once there Lee automatically – if reluctantly
– sat on one end of the exam table and lifted his right leg out in front of
him. Neither had said a word, and Will
wasn’t about to break the silence just yet.
Will was, by nature, a fairly gregarious person. But he was slowly learning that, when
treating Cdr. Crane, sometimes ‘quiet’ was the best approach. He avoided looking directly at Lee’s face as
he carefully untied laces and removed the shoe.
He caught the grimace, however, that Lee tried to cover and was even
more careful as he pulled off the sock.
A purple blotch was already beginning to show across the top of the foot
about an inch from the ankle and extending down the side towards the arch. Very gentle manipulation led Will to
postulate that nothing was broken, although he’d need an x-ray to be sure. He relayed that information, to which Lee merely
nodded, and then asked carefully, “How did this happen, Skipper?”
“Just
an accident,” Lee mumbled. Will was all
set to say something snide, like, well, I certainly hope that you didn’t do
it on purpose, decided that probably would be the end of any cooperation
he’d get from the occasionally temperamental commander, and stayed quiet,
waiting. Eventually Lee almost looked at
him. “One of the levers in the Missile
Room that locks down the lower torpedo racks was reported to be sticking. Maintenance reported that they’d sprayed it
and it was now okay. I was checking it
off the list of repairs this morning…”
His voice trailed off. Will
continued to wait. Impatiently, but he
didn’t let Lee see that. Eventually Lee
continued. “When I tried it, it totally
wouldn’t move. I couldn’t figure out why
Maintenance would have reported it fixed and instead it was totally stuck. I kept fussing with it but it was stuck
solid, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. I…ah…”
Once more his voice trailed off, and this time the silence lasted so
long that it was Will who surrendered first.
“So,
you decided to use your foot?” he asked.
Lee
nodded. Reluctantly. And even more reluctantly added, “Got so mad
that it wouldn’t move that I kicked it.”
He sent Will such a sheepish look that it was
all the doctor could do to keep from grinning.
“About that time COB Jones showed up.
Seems the Admiral had made a change to the lever that I hadn’t
noticed. There’s a small button you have
to depress first, then the lever will move.
Keeps it from being bumped accidentally.”
Will
nearly lost it. He had to turn his back
and pretend to write something on Lee’s medical chart to kill the time it took
to get himself back together enough to face his CO. He had a strong feeling
that Lee still knew, from the frown on the man’s face when he did finally turn
around. But neither man mentioned it and
the moment passed.
Once
the x-ray proved that Will had been right and nothing was broken, just severely
bruised, Will taped up the foot and advised Lee to go home for the rest of the
day, keep it elevated, and ice it as much as possible. Given Lee’s previous reactions to Will’s
orders, he wasn’t holding his breath.
Will didn’t even try to get Lee to use crutches – he knew better! But when Will walked to Med Bay’s front door
with Lee, Admiral Nelson was standing in the Waiting Room to one side of the
door and the cart was once more just outside.
Will felt Lee stiffen next to him.
Nelson
saw it as well but simply grinned as he walked closer. “Lee, your briefcase and car keys are on the
cart seat. Just leave the cart next to
your car, and we’ll see you in the morning.”
A
flash of ‘something’ ever so briefly crossed Lee’s face, and Will was extremely
glad that all Lee’s years of military training kicked in and he didn’t argue
with what was, even so casually given, a direct order. Once he’d hobbled his way to the cart and
left, Will found himself expelling the breath he hadn’t even realized that he’d
been holding.
“Never
a dull moment?” Nelson asked him amiably.
Will
finally chuckled and nodded, and the pair headed back to their respective
offices.