The
following story was originally written around 15 years ago and the original
version was published in a zine about 5 years ago. This is the new, changed
version and my first major submission to a website. I would like to express my
gratitude to Lill for her
comments which sparked the rewrite and for her encouragement that ensured I
finished it; and to both Lill and Lyn for their help in making it readable!
ICEBERG
By
Sue James
“Who
was that iceberg I just passed in the corridor?” Chip Morton asked as he
entered the office of his best friend and commanding officer at the Nelson
Institute of Marine Research.
“Iceberg?
In the corridor?” Lee Crane looked curiously at his executive officer.
“Describe it.”
Chip
frowned thoughtfully as he sat down on the black leather chair opposite Lee’s
desk. “Tall…
greying
hair…
spectacles….”
“Oh,
you mean Dr. Westhal,” Lee grinned.
“Doctor?”
Chip made a face. “Medical doctor?”
“No,
scientific. She’s in charge of the weather research team we’re taking to the
“Because,
she has a glare that could freeze
“She
does?” Lee looked amused. “What did you do to her?”
“Me?
Hey, I didn’t do anything,” Chip protested his innocence. “I smiled at her and
said 'Good Morning' and… WHAM! She gave me the GLARE! Looks like one
unfriendly lady to me.”
“She’s
been friends with the Admiral for years,” Lee remarked leaning back in his
chair.
“Has
she?” Chip was surprised. “What would the Old Man want with an old ice maiden
like her?”
“She
mightn’t be an “Old Ice Maiden” in his company,” Lee laughed. “and she may have been a little
formal but I wouldn’t call her an ice maiden.”
“You’ve
met her?”
“I
have and you will too…at the reception on Thursday evening.”
“Reception?”
Chip groaned. Attending formal receptions was one of the less attractive
aspects of his work as executive
officer of
the world famous submarine Seaview.
“’Fraid
so, pal,” Lee laughed again. He wasn’t keen on the formal aspects of their work
either but he didn’t have quite the aversion to it that Chip did. “Dr. Westhal
will enjoy seeing us together. She thinks that I’m far too young to be in
command of a submarine like Seaview. She asked the Admiral if he was sure I
know what I’m doing.”
“And
he said not to worry because the exec is really in charge of the boat!”
Chip teased.
“Yeah,
and he looks like he just graduated High School,” Lee shot back good-naturedly.
“I
do not,” Chip protested.
“Jan
thinks you do,” Lee said in reference to Chip’s secretary.
“That’s
because she’s old enough to be my mother.”
“Yea,
well so is Dr. Westhal,” Lee said seriously. “And she’ll probably think the
entire crew should still be in High School.”
“Except
Sharkey,” Chip pointed out.
“Except
Sharkey,” Lee nodded in agreement.
“And
Doc…”
“True.”
“And…”
Chip
was all set to continue but Lee forestalled him with a raised hand. “Hey, I
called you here to discuss our next trip.”
“Ah,
yes,” Chip nodded agreeably and assumed an air of seriousness. “Taking Dr.
Westhal and her team to set up their weather research station?”
“That’s
correct,” Lee nodded. “We’ll be setting out for the
“Exact
time?”
“06.00
hours. It’ll be a long trip, three or four weeks, maybe longer. We’re going to
help them set up the camp so a lot depends on the weather conditions and how
close we can get Seaview to their chosen position. It could be a long haul on
foot.”
“I’ll
get started on loading our Arctic gear and sorting supplies.” Chip made a note on his battered
clipboard. “How many in the Doctor’s team?”
“Eight
including her.”
Lee
scratched behind his right ear with his pencil. “Beats me how anyone could opt
to live out on the ice for six months. I prefer a warmer climate myself.”
“You
don’t have ice running through your veins,” Chip remarked dryly. “Unlike the
good doctor!”
Lee
frowned. “I hope you’re not going to set yourself against her, Chip. This trip
is potentially dangerous. I don’t want any trouble on board.”
“I’ll
be the ultimate professional, Lee; you know that,” Chip responded seriously.
“Anything else I should know now?”
Lee
passed a sheaf of papers across the desk. “Here’s a list of all the equipment
Dr. Westhal’s team will be bringing aboard.”
Chip
took the papers and glanced through them. “That’s quite a load.”
“Yes,
and it all needs to be checked and security tagged by one of our teams.”
“I’ll
get on it as soon as it arrives,” Chip made another note on his clipboard. “Any
idea when we can expect it?”
“You’ll
have to consult with Dr. Westhal on that. Some of it is being flown in from the
East Coast.”
“Right.” Chip shrugged his broad shoulders.
“Anything else I should know?”
“No.
You busy tonight?”
“Not
that I know of,” Chip stretched his arms above his blond head. “You want to
meet for dinner?”
“Sounds
good to me,” Lee consulted his wristwatch. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot at
19.00 hours.”
``````````
Chip
Morton set out for Thursday’s official reception in a positive frame of mind.
Despite his joking with his friend and skipper he was a fair minded man and was
willing to concede that he may have seen Dr. Westhal at an inopportune moment
in one of the Institute’s corridors. It would be unfair of him to attend the
gathering with his opinions set in concrete so he approached the event with a
generously open mind.
The
evening started well. Chip encountered one meteorologist who came from his
native
Meanwhile,
Dr. Westhal was in conversation with Admiral Nelson and his sister, Edith, who was visiting her brother from
her home in
“Here’s
your chance to redeem yourself,” Lee muttered as they crossed the room. “Smile
nicely.”
“I
smiled last time,” Chip grumbled
indignantly.
“And she glared at me for no reason.”
“Were
your teeth clean?”
“Funny.”
“Ah,
Lee, Chip….” Admiral Nelson smiled at the two
younger men. “Glad you could make it.”
As
if we had a choice,
Chip thought philosophically.
Turning
to Dr. Westhal, Nelson said,
“You’ve
met Captain Crane?”
“Hello
again, Captain,” Dr. Westhal smiled briefly at him and shook his proffered
hand.
“And
this is my executive
officer,
Lieutenant
Commander
Chip Morton. Chip, Dr. Marion Westhal, scientist in charge on our next trip.”
“Pleased
to meet you, Doctor Westhal,” Chip said politely and offered her his hand. She
eyed it distastefully and then, as if aware that everyone’s eyes were upon her,
she shook it cautiously as if she was afraid that she might catch something.
Unnerved
by the scientist’s reaction towards him Chip folded his arms across his chest
in what Lee recognized as a defensive gesture. Marion Westhal, however, did not
seem to notice as she eyed both officers in a speculative fashion.
“I
don’t know, Harry. Are you sure that these boys know what they’re doing?” she
asked with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
The
Admiral roared heartily, Edith smiled and Lee grinned politely. Chip just
stared ahead, his expression unreadable as Nelson replied, “They’re not boys, Marion. They
just seem like it to us.”
“They
help to keep Harry young,” Edith put in. “He likes to believe that they’re his
contemporaries!”
“I
do not!” Nelson protested.
“Ah,
but you’re as young as you feel,” Marion Westhal said with a smile at Nelson.
“Like me, Harry, I’m sure your work keeps you
young.”
“It
certainly does,” Nelson nodded. “Though sometimes I feel that it is responsible
for ageing me before my time and these two don’t help!”
“I
can imagine,” Dr. Westhal said with a tight smile. Catching the look Nelson
frowned. “Don’t get me wrong,
“Oh,
I don’t question your judgement, Harry,” she assured him. “I shall be honoured
to work with your men.” She smiled at Lee. “I’m sure you know what you’re
doing, Captain.”
“I’m
sure I do!” Lee assured her and everyone laughed even Chip although he didn’t
feel like it. He was wondering what he’d done to provoke the hostility that the
doctor was directing at him. It didn’t make sense and he was never comfortable
with situations that didn’t make sense-- even after some of the things he’d
experienced aboard Seaview.
“I
said you could probably see her tomorrow morning. Is that possible, Chip?”
“Sorry,
Sir,” Chip blushed slightly, aware that he’d not been listening. “See who?”
“
“Yes,
Sir, of course” Chip nodded. “10.00 hours,” he asked the frosty scientist, “in
my office, Doctor?”
“That
will be acceptable, thank you,” she responded formally.
As
soon as was politely
possible Lee and Chip made their excuses and moved to the other side of the
room where a huge buffet filled tables running along the length of one wall.
“Have
you and Dr. Westhal met somewhere before?” Lee asked curiously as he helped
himself to a plate and began to fill it with a variety of cold meats, crusty
bread and plenty of pickles.
“Never,” Chip responded adamantly.
“She
doesn’t seem to like you,” Lee said unnecessarily. “But she kept looking at you
as if she knew you from somewhere and the memories weren’t good!”
“I
don’t know her and I don’t wish to know her,” Chip growled as he helped himself
to a very large slice of chocolate cake.
“Never
mind, I’m sure she’ll be much too busy with her work to bother about either of
us,” Lee remarked as he began to eat his food.
“Mmmm,”
Chip muttered in response, his mouth full of cake. He just hoped Lee was right.
````````
Chip Morton was at his desk in the Institute’s
administration block by 08.00 hours the following morning. He had a mountain of
paperwork to attend to and he felt that concentrating his attention on that
might help him to forget that Dr. Westhal was meeting him at 10.00 hours. He
was not looking forward to the meeting at all. He knew instinctively that the
frosty scientist didn’t like him, which did not particularly bother him. He
wasn’t keen on her but he met all sorts of people in the course of his work and
he knew that he was more than capable of treating her courteously as a fellow
professional. However, that didn’t mean that he had to look forward to it.
The
intercom on his desk buzzed at exactly 10.00 hours. Putting down his pen Chip
acknowledged the call. “Yes, Jan?”
“Dr.
Marion Westhal is here to see you, Commander Morton,” the soft friendly voice
of his secretary reported.
“Very
well, send her in, Jan. And no interruptions until
she’s gone, please.”
“Of
course, sir.”
The
intercom went dead and seconds later the door opened and Dr. Westhal appeared.
Chip
looked up from his desk and smiled a greeting at her as he stood politely.
“Good morning, Doctor. Please have a seat.” He indicated the chair in front of
his desk.
“Thank
you,” she said coldly, glowering at him as she sat down.
Chip
frowned slightly as he sat down again, disconcerted by the undisguised
hostility he could see in her grey eyes. Before he could say anything the
frosty scientist spoke condescendingly. “I suppose you’re used to women falling
at your feet?”
Chip
hesitated and then, in an effort to lighten the heavy atmosphere he responded
jokingly: “Only my nieces.” He couldn’t understand what he’d done to provoke
this woman. He’d only met her twice and could think of nothing he’d done to
alienate her. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t that he expected everyone to like
him but as Seaview’s
exec
the ability to get on well with different people was a vital part of his job
and it was a job he knew he did well. He had never met such instant hostility
before--
at
least not from someone on his side-- and he was unsure how to deal with
it. Dr. Westhal continued to look angrily at him from her seat opposite his
desk and Chip found it slightly unnerving as, clearing his throat, he said
calmly, “I believe we have a job to do, Doctor. May I suggest that we get on with it?”
“Of
course,” Dr Westhal nodded grimly and opened the large file she had bought with
her. “I believe you already have a list of the equipment we’re bringing with
us, Commander?” At Chip’s nod, she passed some plans across the desk to him.
“This is a map of how I envisage the camp will be set up. If you listen
carefully I will explain about the role and sensitivity of some of our
equipment.”
Chip
sighed inwardly but kept his face impassive as he leant on his desk and
listened carefully. He had to admit that he was impressed with the Doctor’s
obvious knowledge of her subject and her understanding of all the scientific
equipment her team would be using, some of which was beyond his own
comprehension. The meeting was over within forty minutes and, although it went
smoothly, Chip was heartily relieved when the scientist finally stood to leave.
“Thank
you for your time, Commander,” she said stiffly as she closed her file. “I
won’t bother you any longer. Goodbye.” She was out of the door before Chip
could respond and he stared after her thoughtfully. He had a very uncomfortable
feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of her hostility and found himself looking
forward to the end of this upcoming mission before it had even begun!
`````````
Chip’s
next encounter with the hostile scientist came that afternoon. He was in
Seaview’s vast hold supervising the loading of some of Dr. Westhal’s equipment
when an icy voice boomed from behind him.
“Commander
Morton! I want a word with you!”
Chip
froze momentarily at the sound of her voice and noted that the work crew had
all stopped to stare in surprise at the woman who would dare to speak to the exec as if he was a naughty child.
Quickly recovering his composure Chip indicated to the men that they should
carry on working and then turned on his heel to face the angry scientist.
“Who
told your men they could open my crates?” she demanded furiously.
“I
did,” Chip replied coolly. “And you really shouldn’t be down here, doctor. It’s
off limits to unauthorized personnel.”
“Don’t
you tell me what I can and can’t do,” she retorted indignantly. “I don’t take
orders from you. Now why did you allow them to open my crates?”
Chip
had an uncomfortable feeling that if he stood his ground an unseemly argument
was going to ensue, but rules were rules and this was
a hazardous area. He decided to answer her question and then ask her again to
leave. “We’re opening your crates because it’s part of our security
procedures,” he said evenly, his voice carefully controlled. “Everything has to
be checked and security tagged.”
“Says
who?”
“Says
Admiral Nelson.”
“Ah,”
she hesitated for a moment, obviously thrown by his reply. “Well, you’d better
be careful young man because if anything is damaged I’ll hold you directly
responsible.”
“As
you wish, Doctor.” Chip had to work hard not to glare back at her. “Now if you
don’t mind, we have work to do and this area is strictly off-limits.”
“I’m
going,” she stared fiercely at him over the top of her spectacles for a moment
then turned towards the door. Chip watched her go with a sigh of relief. She
really was a very difficult woman and he was beginning to feel mentally and
emotionally exhausted from working so hard not to retaliate towards her. He
wasn’t at all sure that he could survive a long cruise with her without doing
or saying something quite unprofessional.
``````````
Lee Crane eyed his friend speculatively as they went over
last minute sailing details together. Despite the cool, professional exterior
that the exec presented to the world Lee knew him well enough to know when he
was hiding his true feelings and he knew that, right now, Chip Morton was both
angry and confused.
“Do
you think I should talk to her?” Lee asked. “Tell her to leave you alone.”
“Tell
who to leave me alone?” Chip asked innocently, his arctic blue eyes giving
nothing away.
“Dr.
Westhal of course. I don’t want her upsetting you. I want you to have your mind
on the job.”
“I
will have my mind on the job,” Chip grinned suddenly. “I’m hardly likely to
have it distracted by the likes of Dr. Westhal. Give me credit, Lee.”
Lee
shrugged. If Chip wanted to joke about it then so would he. “Okay. I must say I
never thought that I’d see the day when a woman wasn’t charmed by you,” he
teased.
“I
do not charm women,” Chip objected. “Any more than you do!”
Lee
laughed. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I try and charm Dr. Westhal. Keep her
away from you?”
“Good
luck!” Chip smirked. “She’ll eat you for breakfast. Anyway, we don’t have to
worry about her, Lee. She’ll probably spend all her time with the Admiral. They
are friends, aren’t they?”
“True,”
Lee agreed. “I expect they’ll spend the whole cruise holed up in his lab.”
`````````
However,
in the end
Admiral
Nelson was unable to sail with them.
“What
do you mean, you’re not coming?” Lee eyed the Admiral with concern.
“I’m
sorry, Lee but I have to go to
“Can’t
it wait?”
“No,
it can’t,” Nelson frowned. “I admit that I’m a disappointed to miss this trip
but you don’t need me. You know what you’re doing. I trust you, Lee, and so does
“Tell
that to Chip”, Lee
thought but didn’t say as much. They’d just have to cope with her as best they
could.
``````````
To
begin with the trip went smoothly. They sailed on time at 06.00 hours on
Saturday morning and Dr. Westhal kept out of the way spending most of the time
in her cabin although she did accept Lee’s invitation to view the ocean from
Seaview’s famous windows. The scientists on her team were a friendly bunch who
kept out of the way and enjoyed Seaview’s hospitality. In conversation with
them Lee came to realize that they both liked and respected their leader, which
made her attitude towards his exec even more puzzling. What was it about Chip that
made her so hostile? Every time she laid eyes on him they were eyes full of
loathing although she tended to avoid him and he, in turn got on with his work
and ignored her. On the few occasions that he needed to speak to her he was
polite and professional and she was cool and frosty in return. It was a puzzle
that Lee dearly wanted to solve.
Then,
with Seaview only hours from their destination, disaster struck. Running down
the forward stairs that led from Officer’s country into the control room Lee
Crane lost his footing, fell down the last four steps and sprained his ankle.
“At
least it’s not broken,” Jamie said cheerfully as Lee glared in disgust at his
swollen ankle. “Several days’ rest and…”
“Several
days?” Lee interrupted, his tone agitated. “How long is several days?”
“Four
or five,” Jamie replied, unmoved by his patient’s obvious annoyance. “More if I
don’t think it’s healing well enough, which it won’t if you defy me and try
walking on it before it’s ready to be walked on.”
“But
we’re due at our destination in less than 48 hours,” Lee protested. “I’m
supposed to be leading the team to help Dr. Westhal set up her research camp.”
Jamie
couldn’t help smiling. No matter what was wrong with him the skipper always had a reason why he couldn’t
possibly follow the doctor’s orders.
“I’m sorry, Captain but even if we don’t reach
our destination for another four days there is no way you’re going to go
trudging across ice and snow. Doctor’s orders!”
“But….”
“But
nothing. Let Chip go; he’s perfectly capable.”
“I
don’t think he’ll want to,” Lee muttered, annoyed at his own carelessness and
the doctor’s unperturbed cheerfulness.
“He
won’t have any choice if you order him to,” Jamie said firmly. “And whether he
goes or not you are staying here and that’s final. Understood?”
“I
suppose so,” Lee grinned ruefully at the doctor. After all it wasn’t his fault
and Lee knew he was right. If any other member of the crew had suffered the
same injury he would be backing the doctor’s orders. He certainly wouldn’t allow
them to join a shore party. Nevertheless, it was frustrating and he didn’t
think that Chip was going to be too thrilled at the prospect of going ashore
with Dr. Westhal. Lee was confident that his exec was probably counting the
hours to her departure!
````````
At
the time of his captain’s
accident
Seaview’s exec was off-duty and fast asleep and it wasn’t until four hours
later that he heard of his friend’s misfortune. Having received the news from
Lt. Craig Morrison in the officers’ wardroom Chip took a detour to Sickbay on
his way to the Control Room. He found Lee sitting on a bunk with his feet up
reading a report.
“Shouldn’t
you be resting?” Chip enquired teasingly.
“Don’t
you start,” Lee groaned. “There’s nothing wrong with my brain, Mr. Morton.”
“So,
how on earth did you do it?” Chip asked as he sat down on the edge of the bunk,
ignoring the mild display of temper.
“I
don’t know exactly,” Lee glared at the offending ankle. “All the times I’ve run
down those stairs… I’ve never slipped before. It’s just one of those things I
suppose. I’m sorry, Chip.”
“What
for? It’s your ankle, not mine,” Chip grinned.
“You
know what I mean,” Lee sounded worried. “There’s no way Jamie’s gonna allow me
out on the ice with this…”
“Yeah,
I know,” Chip interrupted. “I get to go instead. Don’t worry about it, Lee. I
don’t mind; it’ll make a nice change.”
“Are
you sure?” Lee asked doubtfully. “I know how much you were looking forward to
getting rid of our guest. I hate to think that I’m forcing you to work with her.”
“Never
let it be said that I shirked my duty!” Chip proclaimed with more
light-heartedness than he actually felt. “Maybe I could feed her to a hungry
polar bear?”
“Better
make sure she doesn’t feed you to one,” Lee grinned. “Seriously Chip, are you sure
you don’t mind?”
“Sure,”
Chip nodded. “I admit that I’m not happy about her attitude towards me, but
that’s her problem, not mine.” He paused, his expression intensely serious.
“Could be she’ll refuse to go ashore with me anyway.”
“True,”
Lee nodded. “But she’s a dedicated scientist, Chip. I would have thought that
this project is too important to delay just because she doesn’t like you very
much.”
“She
hates
me,”
Chip emphasised the word. “You didn’t hear the way she spoke to me at the
institute, Lee. And her eyes…they’re colder than the temperature outside this
boat.”
“Maybe
you remind her of somebody,” Lee said thoughtfully. “I know she’s quite
“frosty” as you put it but she certainly hasn’t turned out to be the problem I
had anticipated. She’s been quite polite and friendly towards the crew and her
team seem to think well of her. In fact, the only time she’s been bad-tempered
with me it was over you! Maybe you remind her of a former lover. You know…left
her for another woman …broke her heart sort of thing….”
“What
heart?” Chip enquired sarcastically. “I thought she ran on battery acid.”
“Be
serious,” Lee admonished him. “Think about it, Chip. Remember when you first
saw her? You said she glared at you in the corridor and she didn’t even know
who you were then. She’s made remarks about your appearance to both of us. It
could be that you remind her of somebody she has a grudge against.”
“I
thought scientists were supposed to be logical, rational people,” Chip said in
a tone of voice that indicated he didn’t agree with his friend’s theory. “That
sort of behaviour is illogical and irrational.”
“Love
can do funny things to your mind,” Lee said authoratively.
“So
can sprained ankles,”
Chip
scoffed amusedly as he stood up and stretched his arms
before sticking his hands into the back pockets of his uniform trousers. “Are
you going to give Dr. Westhal the bad tidings or d’you want me to do it?”
“I’ll
do it,” Lee decided. “And if she complains I’ll threaten to postpone the
landing party. That should make her agree to co-operate with you.”
````````
As
both Lee and Chip had expected Marion Westhal was not very pleased that Chip
was going to be leading the landing party.
“I
suppose, in these circumstances that I’ll have to
put up with him,” she said when Lee gave her the news. “At least he appears to
be very competent,” she added grudgingly.
“He
is,” Lee replied seriously, his hazel eyes reflecting his concern, “Which is
why I’m sending him in my place. Whether you like it or not, Doctor, Commander
Morton is the best man for the job.” He paused. “To be perfectly honest, he’s
probably better qualified than I am. He’s an excellent navigator and he doesn’t
mind the cold at all. Too long out there and my temper is liable to be on a
very short fuse.”
“Really?”
Marion Westhal actually smiled. “I don’t believe you, Captain. You’re just
trying to make me feel better about your friend.”
“I’m
trying to ensure that you’ll co-operate with him,” Lee answered
uncompromisingly. “Truthfully Doctor, I’ve half a mind to cancel your trip
until I can lead the landing party myself.”
“You
can’t do that, Captain!”
“I
can do whatever I like,” Lee said, unperturbed by the growing anger he could
see in her cool grey eyes. “Getting your team established out on the ice is my
responsibility. I have to send the best men for the job but I’m not happy about
sending Commander Morton out there when you seem to have a grudge against him
for no apparent good reason. If you can’t promise me that you’ll co-operate
fully with him then you’ll just have to wait until my ankle heals.”
“You’re
really serious, aren’t you?” Marion Westhal asked soberly.
“Yes
I am,” Lee spoke in his best command voice. “I don’t know who Commander Morton
reminds you of, Doctor, but I can assure you….”
“Who says he
reminds me of anyone?” Marion Westhal interrupted testily. “I don’t have to
like everyone I meet, Captain.”
“You
don’t know him,” Lee argued. “From what I can
see you took an instant dislike to him without just cause. Now I’m
telling you he’s an excellent officer and as far as I’m concerned you couldn’t
be in better hands.”
“You
really
care about him, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. We’re very good friends.”
“How
long have you known him?”
“Around
thirteen years,” Lee replied, intrigued by the doctor’s sudden interest in his
friendship with his exec. “We were roommates at
“Do
you trust him?”
“With
my life. Why?”
“I
just wondered,” Dr. Westhal sounded dismissive. “I suppose Harry thinks a lot
of him too?”
“Enough
to poach him from the Navy before Seaview was even built,” Lee frowned. “Look
Doctor I don’t see what these questions have to do with the business at hand.
Are you going to co-operate with Commander Morton or are we going to postpone
your trip?”
“I’ll
co-operate with him,” Dr. Westhal nodded. “Don’t worry, Captain. The project is
too important for me to risk delaying it by squabbling with your friend. We’ll
go ahead as planned and I’ll leave Commander Morton alone.”
“Good,”
Lee smiled with relief. “We’re about twenty-four hours from our co-ordinates
now. I suggest you ensure that your equipment and your team are ready to depart
as soon as we surface,”
“They’ve
been ready for days, Captain,” the doctor replied. “We’ll be all set to go as
soon as you give the word.”
“Fine,”
Lee nodded his approval. “I’d like the remainder of this mission to go as
smoothly as possible.”
As
Marion Westhal took her leave, Lee Crane stared thoughtfully after her. He
hadn’t missed the way she had tensed when he suggested that Chip reminded her
of someone. Her response had been too quick and defensive and he was convinced
that he’d touched a nerve. But who was it that had caused her to take such an
intense dislike to his exec? He wished that the Admiral was aboard; he’d known the
doctor a very long time and, maybe, he might have an idea of who it was in her
past that Chip resembled.
````````
Seaview
got to within three miles of where Dr. Westhal wanted to set up camp and the
massive submarine broke through the ice enabling the shore party to set out for
their ultimate destination. Besides the doctor and her team of six scientists
the shore party consisted of Chip Morton, Lieutenant Craig Morrison and eight
members of the crew. Although they used three motorised snow vehicles to
transport all of their equipment only the two drivers got to ride; the rest of
them had to walk. However, despite the brisk, icy wind they strode along at a
steady pace and reached their destination an hour and ten minutes after leaving
Seaview.
The
first priority on reaching the co-ordinates Dr. Westhal had chosen for her base
camp was to construct the flat-pack huts in which the scientific team would
live and work for the next five to six months. The area was soon a hive of
activity as everybody set to work. Dr. Westhal moved about from group to group
giving instructions on her preferred layout of the camp and generally
overseeing the work. Chip let her get on with it. It was her camp after all and
she seemed to know exactly what she wanted. He was quietly impressed with her
organizational abilities, which were a good match for his own. Still he’d be
glad when everything was completed and he could take his team back to Seaview.
Dr. Westhal had been very civil towards him since Lee had spoken to her but
Chip could tell that she found it difficult and didn’t want to push his luck by
hanging around any longer than was necessary. With that in mind he set to work
helping to erect one of the huts. The sooner they were finished the sooner he
could leave.
“Looks
like that’s about it, sir,” Craig Morrison commented over two hours later as he
and the exec surveyed the completed camp. “Quite a little village isn’t it?”
“Certainly
is,” Chip nodded absently, one eye on the newly completed camp and the other on
the ominous looking storm clouds scurrying in from the east. “Craig, soon as
the remaining equipment is installed we’d better have something to eat and
start back to Seaview.”
“Yes,
sir,” Craig followed his superior’s gaze eastwards. “D’you think we’re in for
some bad weather?”
“Could
be,” Chip nodded and turned to look at the junior engineering officer. “I’m
going to radio Seaview and see if I can get an updated weather report.”
Making
his way to the communications hut Chip found it empty. Undeterred he sat down
by the radio and operated the appropriate switches and dials that would enable
him to make contact with Seaview. His first request to speak to someone on
board the submarine was instantly responded to as
“This
is Seaview. Hello, Mr. Morton. Do you want me to patch you through to the skipper?”
“Yes,
please, Sparks.”
There
was a short pause and then Lee’s voice could be heard.
“Hi,
Chip. Everything sorted?”
“Well,
we’ve finished setting up the camp and the men are having something to eat but
I’m a bit worried about the weather, Lee.”
“Yes,
I’ve just been looking at the latest weather report,” Lee replied. “The changes
forecast for twenty-four hours’ time seem to have come about a lot quicker than
expected. What’s it like there?”
“The
wind is increasing and there’s some terrific storm clouds racing in from the
east,” Chip told him. “I don’t know if it would be wise to try and get back
before it breaks or not. How long does the weather report predict the storm will last?”
“It
should be clear by tomorrow morning but that’s by no means certain. The weather
up here does change with terrific speed and it’s not always easy to predict,”
Lee paused. “Maybe Dr.Westhal’s project will improve the situation.”
“Great,”
Chip responded, a little sarcastically. “But that’s not gonna help us now, is
it? If we stay here are you still going to be there tomorrow morning?”
“I
hope so,” Lee replied, “but if we’re not it’ll only be temporary. We can always
come back for you if we’re forced to seek shelter under the ice for a while but
if you get stuck in a snowstorm between here and there might not be anyone to
come back for.”
“True,”
Chip acknowledged reluctantly. Three miles might not be far but in sub-zero
temperatures and heavy snow and with a sixty mile-an-hour iced fury coming at
them from one side he knew that they could easily be thwarted in their efforts
to get “home”. “I guess we’ll stay the night then.”
“I
think that would be best,” Lee agreed. “I hope Dr. Westhal doesn’t mind.”
“Too
bad if she does,” Chip replied a little too sharply. He was tired, hungry and
cold and not at all keen on spending an entire night out on the ice in the
middle of an Arctic blizzard. The last thing he wanted was an argument with Dr.
Westhal over his right to sleep in her camp.
Lee
noticed the sharp edge to his friend’s voice and winced. Obviously he was in no
mood to be teased. “Okay,” he said carefully. “I think you’d better radio in
every half hour until nightfall, Chip, so that we can update you on
the weather reports and our situation here.”
“Understood,”
Chip confirmed. “Over and out.”
Chip
turned the radio off and stretched his tired body as he stood up. He wasn’t
surprised that Lee had advised him to stay put. He knew it was the right
decision. To set off for Seaview now would be reckless and foolish. Chip was
surprised at himself for even considering it an option; it wasn’t usually in
his cautious nature to take unnecessary risks. But then he wasn’t accustomed to
being stranded at the top of the world with hostile female scientists. Sighing
heavily to himself he set out to tell the others of the change in plans.
As
soon as he opened the door of the communications hut Chip was glad that he’d
agreed to stay and sit out the storm. Although darkness was officially another
three hours away the sky was black with clouds that seemed to sit almost on top
of the huts and the snow had started to fall heavily, whipped along by bitingly
cold winds and reducing visibility to only a few yards. Keeping his head well
down Chip made his way to the mess hut and pushed the door open. He found his
men and the scientists seated around the stove eating tinned stew from plates
balanced on their knees.
“Hey,
Mr. Morton!” Kowalski hailed him from the far side of the stove. “We saved you
some stew.” The amiable Sailor
indicated
the pan sitting on top of the stove.
“Thanks,
Ski,” Chip nodded in gratitude and then let his eyes scan quickly around the
hut. There was no sign of Dr. Westhal.
“Where’s
the doctor?” he asked Craig who happened to be closest to him.
“In
her office,” the younger officer replied. “Said she had work to do. She’s got
everything in there, sir; even her bed and her own stove. Looks like she’s
planning to stay there until we come for her.”
“Possibly,”
Chip shrugged and turned so that he could address everyone. “There’s a big
blizzard blowing out there, men, so we can’t get back to Seaview
today like we’d planned. I’ve just been talking to the skipper and he and I both agree that we
should stay here until morning.”
There
was a mixed reaction to the news. Some of the men cheered while others looked
decidedly anxious.
“Will
the storm be over by morning?” young
“We
hope so,” Chip replied. “We’re going to get half-hourly weather reports from
the Seaview so that we’ll know when exactly the storm is expected to pass.”
“Will
the Seaview be okay, sir?” Kowalski wanted to know.
“Yes,”
Chip responded confidently. “If the weather deteriorates further she might be
forced to seek shelter under the ice and we’ll lose radio contact for a while
but she can surface again afterwards. In the meantime you best make yourselves
comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.” He turned again to speak
specifically to Craig Morrison. “I’m going to speak to Dr. Westhal. When I come
back we’ll sort out the sleeping arrangements and, maybe, some entertainment.”
“Fine,
sir,” Craig grinned. “You going to eat your stew now or when you get back?”
“When
I get back.” Chip knew that if he sat down and started filling his stomach with
hot stew he’d be very reluctant to get up again and it was only polite that he
let Dr. Westhal know of the change in plans. He could just imagine how she
would react if she was left to receive the information second-hand from a
member of her team or Seaview’s crew.
````````
Swirling
snow swept around Chip as he walked quickly from the mess hut to Dr. Westhal’s
hut and the wind howled furiously. He knocked loudly on the door and then
pushed his way in without waiting for an answer thinking that it would be
impossible to hear anything above the howling of the wind.
“Didn’t
your parents teach you any manners?” Marion Westhal turned on him almost as
soon as he’d stepped inside.
Chip
frowned as he shook the snow from his parka and removed his outer mittens.
“I
did knock but I didn’t think you’d hear me over the sound of the wind.”
“Hmmph.”
The doctor glared at him. “What do you want anyway? Isn’t it about time you
were leaving? I’m very busy you know; I don’t have time to deal with your
unnecessary interruptions.”
“I’m
sorry,” Chip muttered irritably. “I just thought you should know that because
of the weather situation we won’t be leaving until the morning.”
“Oh.”
For a moment it looked as if the frosty scientist didn’t know what to say to
Chip’s announcement and then, quite unexpectedly, she smiled. “I should think
that comes as quite a disappointment to you, Commander.”
Chip’s
frown increased. He was already annoyed that he couldn’t get back to Seaview
for at least another sixteen hours and he was worried too, wondering what would happen if
Seaview was forced to dive back beneath the ice for any length of time. It was
extremely galling to think that Dr. Westhal found the situation amusing
especially when nothing else seemed to please her.
“It
is a bit worrying,” he replied stiffly. “Hopefully we should be able to get
away as soon as it’s light.”
“And
if you can’t?”
“If
we can’t we’ll just have to wait until we can. I’ll make sure none of my men are a nuisance to you, Doctor.”
“I
should hope not! Now if you’ll please
excuse me, Commander Morton, I’ve got a stove to fix.” She turned to the stove
in the middle of the hut and shook it rather vigorously.
“Don’t
do that,” Chip said sharply. “It’s dangerous.”
He
moved across to look at the stove as Marion Westhal turned to give him yet
another look of complete and utter disapproval and distaste.
“I
know what I’m doing,” she said icily.
“I don’t need you interfering.”
“You
don’t look as if you know what you’re doing,” Chip said in his most authorative
tone. “Shaking it isn’t going to do it any good.”
“Oh,
and I suppose you can fix it, can you?”
“I
might be able to,” Chip nodded as he slipped the fur-lined hood of his parka
back off his head. The stove might not be working but the infra-red wall
heaters were doing a good job of keeping the hut warm. “And if I can’t I expect
one of the crew can. It can’t be anything too difficult.” He slipped off his
inner mittens and crouched down in front of the stove.
“I
can do it for myself!” Dr. Westhal snapped as he began to investigate the
simple ignition system. “It is on; it just won’t go above low. I expect one of
your sailors broke it when they were going through my crates for your security
check.”
Chip
ignored the complaining voice and concentrated instead on what he was doing.
The thermostat control seemed to be stuck. He applied a little brute force to
it but it wouldn’t budge. Thinking that it would be safer if the stove wasn’t
alight he activated the off switch earning himself another rebuke from the
glowering doctor.
“What
on earth do you think you’re doing?” she snapped at him.
“Making
it safer,” Chip snapped back. He was tired and hungry and past trying to be
civil. He looked again at the thermostat control and applied all his strength
to dislodging it. He was quietly satisfied when, after a moment’s resistance,
the control moved.
“There,”
he turned to face the glowering doctor and resisted the temptation to grin
triumphantly. “The thermostat control was just stuck. It should be okay now.”
“Good.
Just light it again and get out of here!”
It
was on the tip of Chip’s tongue to tell her to do it herself but he wanted to
ensure that it was working properly so he bent down and relit the stove.
“You
might as well put it on high,” Dr. Westal snapped again.
Chip
sighed to himself and started to move the control dial again. There was an
alarming hiss but the stove stayed at “low”. Concerned, he started to reverse
the same control.
“Now
what?” Marion Westhal started irritably. “I…”
What
ever else she’d been going to say was lost as, with a blinding flash the stove
blew up virtually in Chip’s face sending him stumbling backwards his thick,
insulated clothing on fire.
Blinded
by the brilliant flash and searing heat and well aware that he was on fire Chip
abandoned his usual self-control and screamed loudly in pain and terror, a scream echoed by the extremely
shocked scientist. For one dreadful moment she stood rooted to the spot
paralysed by fear. Then her muscles came back to her and, moving swiftly, she
grabbed the blankets from her bed and smothered the flames eating at Chip’s
clothes before extinguishing the remains of the stove. Then, confident that the
flames were well and truly out she turned on the injured exec.
“You
IDIOT!” she screamed at him. “What did you want to go and do that for?”
Chip
didn’t answer her. Badly shocked and in considerable pain he lay curled up on
the floor his injured hands clutching at his face.
“Did
you hear me?” Marion Westhal took a step closer to him at which point the door
flew open and Craig Morrison rushed in, closely followed by Hayes,
Kowalski and two members of the doctor’s team.
“What
happened?” Craig demanded, his brown eyes quickly scanning the scene.
“The
stove blew up,” Dr. Westhal said, her voice suddenly shaky. “I think he’s
hurt.” She pointed at Chip who, hearing Craig’s voice, was now attempting to
raise himself from his position on the floor.
Deeply
concerned Craig moved to kneel beside his injured superior and laid a
comforting but restraining hand on his left shoulder. “Easy, Mr. Morton. Just
lie still and we’ll get you some help. He turned to Hayes and Kowalski. “I want
water and the first aid kit and ask their medical officer to get in here.”
“Aye,
Sir,” Kowalski and Hayes were out of the door almost before Craig had finished
speaking. As they disappeared Dr. Westhal spoke up again. “It’s…it’s his own
fault…”she said shakily. “I…I told him to go but he wouldn’t…he…”
Craig
made no comment but turned to one of the scientists. “You better get her out of
here,” he said quietly. “Get her something warm to drink.” He turned to the
other scientist. “Dan, pass me those pillows and then fetch some fresh blankets
from somewhere.”
The
stocky scientist passed the pillows to Craig without comment and then left the
hut on the heels of his colleagues leaving Craig and the injured exec alone.
Gently
Craig lifted the exec’s head from the floor and slid the pillows beneath him.
Chip groaned deeply in obvious pain, his damaged hands still clutching at his
face. Craig was about to try examining his injuries when the door opened again
admitting Hayes, Kowalski and a flurry of snow.
“Hansen’s
just coming,” Hayes announced as he set a large container of water on the floor
and proceeded to unscrew the top.
“Good,”
Craig nodded. “Fill those bowls with water and then we can soak his hands in
them.” He turned his attention back to the exec.
“Listen,
sir. We’ve got some cold water here and we’re gonna soak your hands in it.
It’ll probably hurt but….”
“I
can’t see,” Chip spoke suddenly and unexpectedly, uttering his first words
since the explosion. His voice was low and barely audible but the panic behind
his words was horrifyingly clear to his colleagues. “Everything’s black.”
Craig
frowned deeply and exchanged concerned looks with his two companions.
“Water’s
ready, sir,” Kowalski said quietly.
Craig
gave his superior’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Let me move your hands, sir
and then I can take a look at your eyes.”
“I
can move them,” Chip’s voice remained quiet but unmistakeably determined and
very slowly he moved his injured hands away from his face revealing scorched
skin, singed eyebrows and eyes screwed up tight.
Craig
frowned. “You know you can’t see because your eyes are closed, sir. Can’t you
try and open them?”
“No,”
Chip’s voice shook. “It hurts, Craig.” He sounded upset and
Craig wasn’t sure what to say as he and Kowalski gently guided his hands into
the bowls full of cold water.
Chip
groaned loudly as his very painful hands made contact with the cold water and
he struggled briefly making it necessary for his colleagues to tighten their
grip on his arms.
“I’m
sorry,” Craig said softly, “but it should help.”
Chip
bit his bottom lip in obvious pain, his eyes still tightly closed. Craig
studied him with concern. Although a sizeable portion of his fur-lined
waterproof trousers and the right sleeve of his parka had been burnt away the
flames had barely had a chance to start on the layers of clothing that he wore
underneath limiting his injuries to his hands and face. Craig supposed that he
could be considered fortunate but if he really couldn’t see…Craig didn’t want
to think about that possibility. He was very relieved when the door opened to
admit Ronnie Hansen, the scientific team’s medical officer and Dan Pascoe with
the requested blankets.
While
Hansen attended to the exec’s
injuries
with professional efficiency Craig set about clearing the mess that the
explosion had caused. He rolled up the blankets that Dr. Westhal had used to
extinguish the flames and put them by the door together with the damaged stove
knowing that it would have to be examined to find out what had caused it to
explode. Then he made up the bed in the corner with the fresh blankets. The
best place for the exec right now was undoubtedly Seaview’s sickbay but, as it
was unlikely they would be able to get him there before morning, Craig intended
to use Dr. Westhal’s office as a temporary sickbay. He didn’t think it would be
fair to take him outside into the driving snow and bitterly cold winds just to
move him into one of the accommodation huts.
“Seaview’s
on the radio. The skipper
wants
to talk to Commander Morton.” Young Ed Taylor burst into the room letting in
yet more snow and another blast of icy cold air.
“Did
you tell him anything?” Craig demanded.
“No,”
Ed shook his head. “I didn’t talk to him. The radio operator did. He told me to
pass on the message. Said the skipper’s
expecting
Commander Morton to call him.” He studiously avoided looking at the injured man
who was still laying on the floor while the Doctor painstaking wrapped each of
his fingers in gauze after applying a special ointment to each one. He
continued to look away as the exec’s voice broke into the silence. “Craig?”
“Yes,
sir,” Craig crouched down beside him.
“I’m
supposed to call in every half hour,” Chip paused to lick his dry lips with an
equally dry tongue. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
“I
will,” Craig stood up to leave. “You take it easy, sir. We’ll get you back to
Seaview as soon as possible.”
````````
In
the communications hut the radio operator, Alan Delaney, waited patiently for
someone to come and talk to Seaview’s captain. The man hadn’t sounded very
happy when Delaney had told him he might have to wait before someone from the
landing party could speak to him. He had naturally wanted to know why but
Delaney had told him, truthfully, that he didn’t know why. All he knew was that
there had been an explosion and someone had been hurt but he didn’t want to be
responsible for giving the captain
half
a story. He was relieved when the door to his hut opened and a snow covered
figure entered. Delaney watched as the figure removed his hood and mittens to
reveal one of Seaview’s officers.
“You
got Seaview on there?” Craig demanded.
“Yes,
sir,” Delaney nodded and handed Craig a set of headphones.
Craig
took them with a nod and spoke through the microphone. “Hello, Seaview. This is
Lieutenant Morrison. Can I speak to Captain Crane?”
“This
is Crane.” The skipper’s
voice
came over the airwaves accompanied by an aggravating crackle. “Craig, what’s
going on and where’s Mr. Morton? He was supposed to radio in ten minutes ago.”
“I know, sir,” Craig swallowed. “He said to
tell you he’s sorry.”
“Sorry?”
Back on Seaview Lee Crane frowned quizzically at the radio set in his cabin.
What was Chip sorry for and why did Craig sound so worried? He felt his stomach
muscles clench in apprehension as he asked carefully: “Is there something
wrong, Craig?”
He
heard Craig Morrison take a deep breath before the answer came over the
airwaves. “Yes sir. There’s been a bit of an accident; one of the stoves
exploded.”
“Exploded?
How? Is anyone hurt?” Even as he asked the question Lee had the sinking feeling
that he knew what the answer was going to be.
“I
don’t know what happened,” Craig replied, “but Mr. Morton’s injured. I don’t
know how serious it is. Their medical officer’s looking at him now.”
“I
see,” Lee replied quietly. “Is he conscious?”
“Yes.
He’s burnt his hands and he says he can’t see but his eyes are all screwed up
tight so I don’t know how bad it is.”
Back
on Seaview Lee Crane closed his eyes briefly and asked quietly, “Anyone else
hurt?”
“No.
Dr. Westhal was the only other person there when it happened but she wasn’t
hurt.”
“Does
she know what happened?”
Craig
hesitated recalling the scientist’s claim that the explosion had been Commander
Morton’s fault. Certainly his injuries indicated that he had been in contact
with the stove when it blew up but that didn’t mean he was responsible.
“Craig?”
Thinking that the junior engineering officer hadn’t heard him Lee repeated his
question. “I said does Dr. Westhal know how it happened?”
“I
wouldn’t know, Sir. She was rather shocked and her team took her away
somewhere.”
“I
see,” Lee rubbed thoughtfully at his chin with one hand and wished he’d never
sent his friend out on to the ice. “With this weather the way it is there is
absolutely no way we can get you back aboard before morning. Call me back as
soon as you have a better idea about the extent of Mr. Morton’s injuries. And
see if you can talk to Dr. Westhal and find out exactly what happened.”
“Aye,
sir.”
Craig
removed his headset, handed it back to the radio operator with a quick “thank
you” and left the communications hut to return to Dr. Westhal’s office. When he
got there he found that Ronnie Hansen had finished treating the exec and was in
the process of making him comfortable in what had been Dr. Westhal’s bunk.
Craig
crossed the floor to the bunk and looked down at his injured superior. The exec
lay on his back with his head and face almost completely obliterated by
bandages. His hands, also bandaged heavily, lay on pillows on either side of
him. Craig thought he looked terrible.
“How
is he?” he asked quietly.
“I
can still talk,” Chip spoke irritably before Hansen had a chance to reply. “Did
you talk to Captain Crane? What did he say?”
“He
wanted to know why you hadn’t called in,” Craig replied quietly. “How do you
feel, sir?”
“I’m
fine,” Chip lied. He knew it was obvious that he was far from all right but
that didn’t mean he had to admit it. His injuries meant that a lot of extra
responsibility now weighed heavily on Craig Morrison’s young shoulders and Chip
didn’t want to add to it by admitting that he was scared, in pain and anxious
to return to Seaview as soon as possible. “Did you tell the skipper what happened?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“And
what did he say?”
“He
just asked a lot of questions,” Craig didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t
want to tell the man that they had no immediate hope of getting back to
Seaview.
“I
see,” Chip realized that his response was somewhat ironic and shut up. Craig
stared at him unhappily. He was used to the exec taking deceptively easy control of
events with calm efficiency. It was unnerving to see him hurt and effectively
helpless, leaving Craig to deal with an unsatisfactory
situation to the best of his own ability. Feeling suddenly inadequate he turned
to Hansen.
“As
soon as you’ve finished here, I’d like to talk to you.”
“Sure,”
the M.O bent to speak to his patient. “You try and get some sleep, Commander. I’ll
make sure there’s someone here all the time so if you need anything just ask.”
“Th…ank
you,” Chip muttered tiredly as the drugs Hansen had given him began to take
effect. “I’m…
very
grateful.”
“Is
he going to be okay?” Craig hissed urgently as he and Hansen crossed to the far
side of the hut to talk in private.
“I
think so,” Hansen whispered. “I know it doesn’t look good but his burns are
only superficial. He’s really been incredibly lucky; if the doc hadn’t acted so
quickly he could’ve been very seriously hurt.”
“So
it’s not serious?”
“The
burns aren’t, no, although he is in a lot of pain.”
“But
what about his eyes? He said he couldn’t see.”
“I
know,” Hansen nodded, “but he can’t…or he won’t…open his eyes so it is hard for
me to say. It could be that his eyelids and the area around his eyes are too
painful for him to open his eyes or, because he’s in so much pain, he’s afraid
to open them in case he can’t see.”
“So
you don’t really know.”
“No,
I don’t,” Hansen, agreed. “But my guess is that he shut his eyes instinctively
against the explosion so the chances of them being damaged are pretty low. I
think he needs to be examined by a specialist though… as soon as possible. If there is
anything wrong a delay in treating him properly could make a lot of difference
to the quality of his sight in the future.”
“I
see,” Craig frowned. “I’d better go and report to the skipper. He wanted to know how badly Mr.
Morton was hurt. D’you mind staying here?”
“No.
You go ahead. I can stay here as long as you want.”
“Thanks,”
Craig smiled. “I’ll see you later.”
```````
Before
he went to speak to his captain
again
Craig went in search of Dr.Westhal.
He
found her in one of the accommodation huts with several members of her team.
She looked up as Craig entered, her thin face an unhealthy white colour. Craig
thought she looked as if she’d been crying.
“How
is Commander Morton?” she asked as soon as she saw Craig.
“He’s
not too bad,” Craig said shortly. “Your medical officer seems to think he’ll
make a good recovery but we’ll know more when we can get him back to Seaview”.
“And
when will that be?”
“Hopefully
tomorrow morning but it depends very much on the weather. Doctor, can you tell
me what happened in there?”
“I’m
not sure,” Dr. Westhal regarded him solemnly. “The thermostat on the stove was
stuck and your commander said he’d fix it but when he tried to turn it up it
exploded.” She paused. “I didn’t ask him to interfere you know… it was his choice. I told him to go
away and leave me alone. It’s his own fault that he got hurt, not mine.”
“I’m
sure it wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Craig replied calmly. “The stove was obviously
faulty. You’re lucky that it didn’t explode when you were in there on your
own.”
Dr.
Westhal looked at the floor, uncomfortably aware that Craig was
right. Unsure of what else he could say the young officer took his leave and
returned to the communications hut to report to Captain Crane.
`````````
Back
on Seaview an increasingly worried captain waited anxiously for another message
from the weather station. He felt so guilty about sending his best friend out
there to get hurt and knew he’d never forgive himself if Chip’s injuries were
as serious as they had sounded from Morrison’s first report. He wondered what
Chip had been doing alone with Dr. Westhal and whether she was actually
responsible for what had happened to him. She’d certainly seemed to hate him
enough to hurt him but Lee wasn’t convinced that she would actually have done
so. He wished Craig would hurry up and call back. He…. The intercom interrupted his
thoughts.
“Captain
Crane?”
“Yes.”
“Sir,
I
think we’ve
got to dive,” Bobby O’Brien’s worried voice echoed in Lee’s cabin. “The build
up of ice and snow on the hull is increasing too rapidly and the icepack is
moving in on us. If we stay here too much longer we might not be able to move.”
“Are
you positive?”
“Yes
sir. We have
to get
out of here.”
“I
see,” Lee sighed unhappily. “Have
“Aye,
sir,” there was a note of relief in the acting exec’s voice. Lee wished he
could feel the same relief. It promised to be a long night.
```````
Back
at the research station after receiving Spark’s message from Delaney an equally
despondent Craig Morrison went to report the news to the rest of the crew.
“Did
they say exactly when they’d be back?” Kowalski questioned.
“No,”
Craig shook his auburn head. “Just that they will get here as soon as they
possibly can. Anyway, even if they could stay on the surface we couldn’t get
back to them tonight. The weather is supposed to improve by morning but it can
be very unpredictable. I suggest you all get some sleep so we’ll be ready to
leave as soon as the weather clears.”
“What
about Commander Morton? How is he?” Johnson wanted to know.
“He’s
not too bad but we're worried about his eyes,” Craig
replied. “Hansen gave him a sedative and he’s watching him now.”
“I
think we should do that,” Kowalski spoke up. “Hansen can’t stay up all night. I
think we should have a rota so he’s not left on his own.”
“That’s
a good idea,” Craig agreed tiredly. “I’ll go first.”
“I’ll
go second,” Kowalski offered. “Wake me up in two hours.”
````````
It
was during Kowalski’s “watch” that the exec woke up from his drug-induced sleep
and immediately tried to get out of bed.
“Steady
on, Sir,” Kowalski caught hold of his shoulders as he attempted to raise
himself on his elbows. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
Chip
sighed heavily and allowed himself to be pushed back down on to the pillows.
“What time is it?” he asked tiredly.
“Nearly
03.00. How’d you feel, sir?”
“I’m
fine,” Chip lied. To be honest he felt really ill. His hands were hurting him,
his head ached, his throat was sore and the impenetrable darkness was making
him nervous but he wasn’t about to tell Kowalski any of that. “Where’s Mr.
Morrison?” he croaked.
“Asleep.”
Kowalski replied quietly. “But I can fetch him if you want, Mr. Morton.”
“No,
I don’t want him.” There was a pause. “Why are you here, Ski, shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“I’m… a… I was just watching out for you,
sir,” the Sailor
admitted.
He felt a little embarrassed. The exec wasn’t the type to welcome any fuss and
he didn’t want to upset him. “In case you woke up and needed anything. We… er… we set up a rota.”
“I
see,” Chip almost smiled. He’d have done exactly the same if it had been anyone
else in his current position. “Is there anything to drink around here?”
“Sure,
what d’you want?”
“Something
cold…my throat hurts.”
“There’s
milk,” Kowalski offered.
“That’ll
do.”
“Here
you are then….” Very gently Kowalski slid his right hand beneath the exec’s
head and raised him up so that he could drink comfortably from the cup held in
the Sailor’s
other
hand. Irritated by his inability to manage such a simple task for himself Chip
longed to push the help away but knew that to do so would be foolish and
ungrateful, as he couldn’t do it himself. He couldn’t do anything and the
realization scared him. He wished he’d never touched that damn stove. He drank
all of the milk in the cup and muttered his thanks as Kowalski gently lowered
his head back onto his pillows.
“D’you
want anything to eat?” Kowalski enquired.
“No
thanks.”
For
a moment there was silence as Kowalski wondered what else he could say and Chip
fought against the need to ask the Sailor to fetch the medical officer. The
pain in his hands seemed to be getting worse with every waking minute and so
did his headache. He desperately wanted something to ease the agony and yet he
hated to admit that he couldn’t cope with it. He let out an involuntary sigh,
which Kowalski immediately responded to.
“Sir,
are you sure
you
don’t need anything else?”
Chip
swallowed. “Did…
did
that medical guy leave any painkillers?”
“No,
he said we were to wake him if you needed any. D’you want me to fetch him?”
Kowalski asked, his voice betraying his own anxiety.
Chip
swallowed again. “Yes, I do…
please.”
“I’m
on my way.”
Kowalski
paused at the door. “Will you be alright while I’m gone?”
“Yeah,”
Chip managed a small smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”
After
what seemed like an hour to the suffering exec, but was in fact only five or six
minutes, Hansen arrived accompanied by
Craig Morrison who was finding it impossible to sleep.
“Hurting,
is it?” Hansen asked in his soft drawl as he knelt down by Chip’s bedside.
“Yes.”
“How
bad?”
“Very…”
Chip’s voice shook suddenly. “And I’ve got a headache.”
“Well,
this should take care of it,” Hansen said quietly as he prepared a syringe.
“And it’ll help you sleep.”
“I
don’t want to sleep,” Chip retorted irritably. “I just want something to stop
the pain.”
“Right.”
Hansen didn’t bother to argue as he swiftly inserted the needle into his
patient’s left arm. “Are you warm enough?” he enquired as he rearranged the
layers of blankets.
“Yes.
Did Kowalski come back with you?”
“No,”
Craig Morrison, silent until now, spoke up. “I told him to get some rest, sir.”
“Oh,”
Chip was silent for a minute, then he asked the question that Craig had been
dreading. “You heard anything more from Seaview, Craig?”
Craig
looked enquiringly at Hansen who shook his head. “Don’t tell him
they’ve gone” the
medical officer mouthed the words.
Craig
nodded and said quietly. “I spoke to Captain Crane about twenty minutes ago. He
said the bad weather is still expected to pass by the morning.”
“Good.”
The satisfaction in the exec’s voice made Craig feel incredibly guilty. He
wondered what Morton would say when he found out he’d been lied to.
Seeing
the young officer’s look of guilty concern Hansen beckoned him over to the far
side of the hut. “Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly. “It’s better that he
doesn’t know your submarine had to leave. It’ll only cause him unnecessary
worry. With a bit of luck you might be back on board before he wakes up.”
“He
said he doesn’t want to sleep,” Craig hissed unhappily.
“I
know,” Hansen smiled, “but there was enough sedative in that shot to keep him
asleep for at least eight hours. Don’t worry,” he continued confidently as
Morrison frowned. “I know what he said but he’s better off asleep. Believe me.”
“I
suppose”. Craig was still unhappy about it. Chip Morton might be injured but he
was still the senior officer and Craig didn’t think he was going to take too
kindly to being lied to or having his wishes ignored. It was all right for Hansen;
he didn’t know what the exec could be like when he thought someone had stepped
out of line. Still, the doc was only interested in helping him and Craig
managed to smile.
“Thanks, if you want to go back to bed I’ll
stay here. I can’t sleep anyway.”
“You
need to get some rest,” Hansen said reprovingly. “I could give you something to
help.”
“No
thanks,” Craig shook his head. “I’ll be alright. I’ll get one of the crew to
relieve me in an hour or so.”
“As
you wish,” Hansen nodded at the exec who was now sleeping deeply. “He should
sleep for hours, but if he does wake up and he’s
still in pain, just call me.”
“I
will,” Craig nodded. “Thanks again doc.”
```````
When
dawn broke across the camp some hours later there was still no sign of a let-up
in the weather. In fact, it seemed that the storm was actually getting worse
and looked as if it was going to confine the whole team to their huts. This did
not please Dr. Westhal who was aghast to discover that her office was still
occupied.
“What
do you mean I can’t use my office?” she asked Craig, her tone indignant. “Young
man, I have important work to do. I
can’t afford to sit around wasting time just because your submarine has got
lost!”
“I’m
sorry,” Craig said rather helplessly, thinking that the doctor had certainly
recovered from her shock the evening before, “but Seaview will get here as soon
as she can and then we’ll be gone. Until then Commander Morton is staying in
your office.”
“Can’t
you move him someplace else?” The doctor asked, her tone slightly more
reasonable. “He can walk can’t he?”
“I
think so,” Craig replied, “but he is hurt and he can’t see. It wouldn’t be fair
to move him. Besides, he’s sleeping right now; your medical officer has him
sedated.”
“Hmmph,”
Marion Westhal snorted. “Well, in that case, I’ll just have to put up with him
won’t I? I daresay that if he’s asleep he’s not likely to disturb me.”
I don’t think that’s a good idea, Doctor. I…!”
“Nonsense!”
Dr. Westhal interrupted. “Somebody has to stay with him, right?”
“Well
yes,” Craig nodded, “but….”
“No
‘Buts’.
”
she carried on, giving Craig no chance to speak “If he’s sedated I can’t
disturb him and he can’t disturb me but… if he does wake up there’ll be
someone there. Don’t look so worried, Lieutenant. I’m not going to eat him.”
Craig
didn’t reply. The formidable scientist sounded so determined that he couldn’t
see any point in arguing with her but he was sure that the exec wasn’t going to
be too pleased if he woke up and found his only company was Dr. Westhal.
“Listen,”
Marion Westhal smiled slightly, aware that the young officer wasn’t happy with
her proposal. “If my M.O. agrees to my
suggestion will that put your mind at rest?”
Craig
shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“Good.” Dr. Westhal sounded satisfied. “I’ll get on
with my work then. In the meantime feel free to let your men use our
recreational facilities, Lieutenant. It wouldn’t do for them to get bored.”
```````
Back
on Seaview after a restless night Lee Crane was facing the fact that there had
been no real change in the horrendous weather conditions. It was still snowing
hard and the wind was still very strong. The weather room had admitted that it
could well last most of the day and Lee was becoming more and more concerned
about the chances of getting his friend the medical treatment he needed. It was
so frustrating and he longed to pace his cabin and think but knew that Jamie
would have him in sickbay if he thought he wasn’t resting his ankle. All he
could do was wait and hope that the weather would change sooner than predicted.
````````
Although
she found his unwelcome presence in her private domain very disturbing Dr.
Westhal was determined that the plight of Seaview’s exec should not be allowed
to interfere with her work. Moving her desk to the far side of the hut and
placing her chair so that she had her back to him she sat down and attempted to
absorb herself in her beloved facts and figures. However, much to her chagrin
she found that her willpower was not strong enough and contrary to her usual
single-mindedness she found herself easily distracted. Irritated she threw her
pen down on the desk and pushed the chair back across the wooden floor.
Standing
up she paced around the small space before coming to a reluctant stop in front
of the bed where the injured man lay sleeping peacefully. Gazing down at him
she found that his total unawareness of the inconvenience and distress he was
causing made her clench her fists in suppressed anger. How she longed to wake
him up, to yell at him, to grab hold of him and physically shake him for the
mess she felt he’d created but she knew that wasn’t possible. It would be cruel
and unfair, and despite her anger she did feel
a very slight twinge of guilt. She was well aware that if he had not insisted
on trying to fix the stove for her, it could’ve been her laying there injured
and she didn’t like to see others suffering whoever they might be.
Nevertheless,
the circumstances did not change the way she felt about this man. However
irrational it might be she hated him, and his well intentioned actions which
had resulted in his injuries only made her hate him even more because it meant
that he was still here when she desperately longed to be rid of him. She wished
that Seaview would hurry up and come back so that he would be gone and then,
maybe, she could forget all about Commander Morton and this inconvenient and
unsavoury incident and get on with her research.
Totally
oblivious to Dr. Westhal’s angry presence Chip slept deeply all morning. When
he finally awoke after nearly ten hours of heavily drugged sleep he was dopey
and confused. Momentarily forgetting where he was and what had happened to him
he was aware of just one thing…he couldn’t see. Distressed he attempted to lift
his right hand intending to remove the obstruction covering his eyes but his
hand started to throb painfully as soon as he moved it and he heard himself
groan involuntarily.
“What
seems to be the problem, Commander?” The unmistakeably gruff tones of Dr.
Westhal reminded him instantly of where he was and why he couldn’t see.
“Nothing,”
he muttered, barely audibly.
“Nothing,
huh? Well, if it’s nothing, would you kindly be quiet. I’ve got important work
to do here, Mr. Morton.”
Chip
gritted his teeth against the harshness of the scientist’s tone and wondered,
rather desperately, where everyone else was. It was obvious that he and Dr.
Westhal were the only occupants of this place. He turned his head slightly in
the direction of the scientist’s voice and listened. The most dominant sound he
could hear was the howling of the wind and he guessed that the storm that had
stranded them here was still in progress. He wondered what the time was but
thought it best not to ask. However, he did need to know what was going on and
the best person to give him that information would be young Craig Morrison. He
ran his dry tongue around his equally dry lips and then enquired quietly:
“Where’s Lieutenant Morrison?”
There
was a pause before the same harsh voice replied, “He’s resting. This is my hut and I didn’t want anyone else
in here disturbing my work.”
Chip
sighed inwardly. What on earth was Craig thinking, leaving him at the mercy of
Dr. Westhal? As if he wasn’t suffering enough. He could hear the suppressed
anger in the doctor’s voice and he suddenly felt unduly nervous. He knew that
she hated him and it was obvious that his injuries had not changed her opinions
of him. What if she decided to hurt him further? He wouldn’t be surprised. He
recalled only too well the cold hatred in her eyes and voice right from the
start of this mission and didn’t doubt that his continued presence here was
upsetting her. Part of him was filled
with curiosity about her unreasonable, irrational reactions towards him but the
other, greater part just wanted to get as far away as possible from her and the
only way to do that was to risk her wrath again by asking another question.
Clearing his throat he asked, croakily, “Could you fetch Mr Morrison
please?”
“I’m not one of your crew,
Commander,” Dr. Westhal’s voice was chilling and callous. “I’m very busy. I
don’t have time to run errands for you. Now I’d appreciate it if you just keep
quiet until the storm ends and you can go back where you came from!”
“I
know you’ve got work to do,” Chip responded quickly, “but so have I and I need
to speak to Mr. Morrison, NOW!” His tone of voice was commanding and on Seaview
it would have resulted in immediate compliance from any member of the crew but
the disagreeable Dr. Westhal was not impressed. Striding across the small space
between her desk and the bed she leant over him and spoke clearly, her tone
just as bitter as it had been before.
“May I remind you, Commander Morton that you
are in no position to do anything and that includes giving me orders.
I am
the one in charge here, not you. I realize that’s tough for
someone like you who is used to having his orders obeyed but that’s the way it
is now. It’s your
own fault you’re stuck here and I don’t like it any more than you do so kindly
be quiet and let me work!”
Stunned
by both her words and the tone of her voice, Chip shrank back slightly against
his pillows, once
more concerned
that the obviously angry scientist might try and strike him. He heard her
footsteps walking away and sighed quietly with relief. What sort of a monster
was this woman? Much as he hated to
admit it, even to himself, Chip Morton was afraid. Afraid of the impenetrable
darkness, afraid of his own helplessness and afraid of this woman who appeared
to have him at her mercy. He wasn’t sure what to do. One thing that he prided
himself on was being in control of events and
of
his emotions but, right now, he didn’t feel in control of either. His head
throbbed; his throat was dry, his hands burned and his eyes stung. He was
desperate for a drink but was sure that if he asked for one he’d be inviting
another tirade.
He
wondered, not for the first time, why this supposedly brilliant scientist hated
him so deeply; he wouldn’t mind so much if he thought he somehow deserved her
contempt but he knew that he didn’t and that, added to his intense dislike of
feeling vulnerable, made him suddenly angry. Why the hell should he just lay
her and accept her orders? There was nothing wrong with his legs. If she
wouldn’t fetch help for him, then he’d do it himself. He listened carefully but
couldn’t hear her although he knew she was still in the hut with him. Maybe she
was getting on with her work as she had said she wanted to do. Gritting his
teeth against the pain he knew his proposed actions would cause Chip pushed
himself carefully into a sitting position. By using his elbows he was able to
avoid putting pressure on his injured hands and, once upright, he sat for a
moment quietly satisfied with this small achievement. Listening carefully, it
seemed to him that Dr. Westhal was unaware that he had moved or, maybe, she
just didn’t care. Feeling more in control now than he had since his accident,
Chip took a deep breath and attempted to swing his long legs over the side of
the low bed. This was more difficult than he had anticipated as someone had
tucked the blankets very firmly around his legs and he had to kick hard to free
himself. He was totally unaware that he was being watched from the other side
of the room.
From
her desk diagonally opposite the bed, Marion Westhal watched with a mixture of
scorn and grudging admiration as her “enemy” struggled to free himself from the
bed. “Stupid fool!” she thought to herself. “What
on earth did he think he was going to do even if he did manage to get up? He
couldn’t see, he couldn’t use his hands and he had no boots.
There was no way he could go anywhere.” However, she couldn’t help but
admire his determination even if it was misguided. It was obvious, from the way
his mouth twisted in pain, that he wasn’t finding it easy and, yet, it was
equally obvious that he was someone who didn’t give up easily.
Leaning
back on her chair she studied him resentfully as he sat on the edge of the bed
with both sock covered feet on the floor and his shoulders hunched as he
balanced his elbows on his legs just above his knees with his bandaged hands
tucked in towards his chest. His head was bent forward and he was breathing
heavily and she guessed that the effort of getting to that position had
exhausted him. He didn’t seem inclined to move any further and for a moment,
she found herself staring at the top of his bent head. His blond hair was dark
with sweat and stuck out at odd angles from the bandages which encircled much
of his head. If she was totally honest with herself there was little to
identify him as the very smart and capable executive officer she’d first seen back at the Nelson
Institute. He could have been anybody. She wondered if his friends would
recognise him easily or whether they would need to look twice…and, yet, his
presence in her hut still filled her with revulsion. Even though she could no
longer see most of his face his very existence threatened her piece of mind.
“I don’t know who
Commander Morton reminds you of….” She recalled again the words
Captain Crane had spoken to her before the landing party had left Seaview and
how she had tensed, suddenly afraid that somehow the very astute captain had read her mind. She also
recalled her answer, too quick and too defensive, “Who
says he reminds me of anyone? I just don’t like him.” “You don’t even know
him,” the
captain
had
pointed out and she knew that he thought her arguments were irrational. And
they were. She knew they were but she couldn’t help it.
She
had spent many years in preparation for this project and she couldn’t afford to
risk its success by using up precious time and emotional energy facing up to
the demons that Commander Morton’s admittedly good looks had brought to mind. Oh, she knew it wasn’t his fault
exactly but she knew the feelings that had risen from the dark recesses of her
mind were threatening to overwhelm her. Most probably he was, like his captain, a very pleasant young man. It was
very obvious that his men thought a lot of him and that Harriman Nelson, who
was a very good friend of hers, thought very highly of him. She suddenly
wondered what Harry would say if he knew how she’d shouted at one of his
command team, if he knew how the man was suffering while she just sat back and
watched. It wasn’t really her; she wasn’t an unkind person. Her past, the past
that she had tried so hard to forget, had taught her to care about others
whoever they were and not to have prejudices, and yet that had all been swept
away as soon as she had set eyes on Lt. Commander Chip Morton, and she detested him for it.
On
the other side of the hut and, still oblivious that he was being watched, Chip
was summoning up the strength to stand up. He was aware that he was only
wearing socks on his feet and wondered where his boots were, not that he would
be able to get them on even if he could find them. He felt utterly fatigued and
depressed and, really wanted to lay back down and hide under the blankets but
his pride dictated that he do everything he could to take control of his
circumstances and, taking a deep breath, he began, very slowly to raise himself
to a standing position. He was totally unprepared for the wave of dizziness and
nausea that swept over him as he came upright, one moment he was standing
unsteadily and the next he was falling forwards as he blacked out.
Regaining
consciousness several seconds later, Chip found that his headache intensified
as two sensations assaulted his senses simultaneously. First and foremost was
the pain. He’d fallen heavily on his right side, squashing his already painful
hand beneath his body and scraping his chin on the wooden floor. Secondly,
there was the discordant sound of Dr. Westhal’s voice as she launched into
another angry monologue.
Towering
above him she screamed abuse, as he lay dazed and unmoving. “You stupid, stupid
idiot! I thought I told you to lay quietly, Commander. I thought I
told you that I have important work to do, but do you care? No! What the hell
do you think you were doing anyway? There’s an arctic storm blowing out there
and you think you are going to march out of here in your socks? Use your brains!
You can’t see, your hands are useless and you can’t even keep your balance.
You’re stuck here until the storm finishes so I
suggest you come to terms with it. Do you think you are some sort of bloody
hero? Don’t you know when to concede defeat?”
There
was a pause as the furious scientist paused for breath and, anxious to escape
her fury, Chip tried frantically to move away but as soon as he tried to lift
his head, the dizziness returned and he was forced to stay put as she continued
her verbal assault. She moved closer, bending right over him. “Get up,
Commander. You can’t stay there; you’re in the bloody way! D’you hear me?” She
screamed at him now. “I said get up, damn you get up!”
When
Chip failed to comply she grabbed hold of his left arm and started to pull at
which point the tormented exec finally lost control of his own temper. He’d
worked hard, ever since the start of this mission to be polite and professional
towards this infuriating, irrational woman and now he’d had enough.
“Let
go of me!” he yelled and was relieved when he felt her grip loosen although she
didn’t release her hold immediately. “Let go!” Chip, repeated his command,
trying to put as much force as he could into his very croaky voice. “I don’t
give a damn what you want, DOCTOR. I want to get out of here, away from you,
your irrational attitude and your senseless hatred. Now either you help me or
I’ll manage by myself and report your behaviour to Admiral Nelson at the
earliest opportunity. See what he thinks of the way you treat injured personnel
in your care.”
For
a while after Chip’s words there was silence save for the continuous howling of
the wind around the small hut. Completely exhausted now, Chip remained where
he’d fallen unable to move for fear of another attack of dizziness and
wondering what would happen next. Dr. Westhal had moved away from him and now
stood by her desk, shaking with anger and shock. Despite the weakness of his
voice, the Commander’s words coupled with her own total loss of control had
shaken her. She’d already wondered what Harriman Nelson would make of her
behaviour and knew that she didn’t want him to find out. She would feel so ashamed. She didn’t doubt the commander’s threat and knew how illogical and
unreasonable she would sound if she was forced to defend her actions. She
wondered absently what would have happened if Nelson had sailed with them as
originally planned. He would have been sure to have noticed her behaviour in
the same way that his young captain
had.
What would she have told him if he had queried her attitude towards his
executive officer? She couldn’t have told him the truth, she was sure of that.
A
groan from the floor focussed her attention once more on Commander Morton.
Looking at him now, as he lay helpless and in obvious pain, she suddenly found
that the sight of him no longer filled her with as much revulsion as before and
she began to feel a little sorry for him. Still, she didn’t want to be the one
to help him. She wanted him out of her way as much as he wanted to go. Walking
over to the door she turned the knob and edged it open. Thick white snowflakes
obliterated the camp and she was forced to let the door slam shut again as the
wind threatened to take it. It was obvious that the weather was not going to
allow either of them their wish.
Feeling
suddenly very tired and very depressed Marion Westhal turned back to the centre
of the room. A wave of guilt assaulted her. What had brought her to this?
Wasn’t she just as bad as the man she despised him for? Approaching the
unmoving figure on the floor, she said quietly, “I’m afraid the weather is
against us both, Commander, so we better make the best of it. Shall I help you
back to bed? You can’t stay there like that.”
There
was no immediate answer and she wondered if he was still conscious. She was
debating how she could move a man who was a good seven inches taller than her
and a great many pounds heavier when he spoke, his voice low and filled with
pain. “I don’t think I can move. I’ll only faint again.” He sounded so defeated
that she found her own strength of mind returning.
“Of course, you can, Commander. I won’t let you faint.”
You can’t bloody stop
me! Chip
thought crossly, but he said nothing. He felt too ill and didn’t have the
strength to get involved in another argument. If she thought she could get him
back to bed, let her try. He felt a hand on his left shoulder and his muscles
tensed as the scientist said quietly, “If you can roll on to your back, it’ll
be easier to get up. I’ll help you.”
Bewildered
by this sudden change in his adversary’s attitude, Chip allowed her to help him
roll onto his back where he lay for a moment, biting his already bleeding lower
lip against the pain that now seemed to radiate throughout his body. He wished
now that he’d never tried to get out of bed, it was obvious that the odds had
been stacked against him but he had been unable to lay there and do nothing. Don’t
know when to concede defeat! Those were part of the words that
she’d shouted at him. And he knew that was true, he never had known when to
give up, he always had to keep on fighting until he completely ran out of
strength by which time he was usually in a worse position than when he’d
started…
just
like now.
“Alright,”
Marion Westhal’s voice broke into his thoughts and he was struck again, at how
much quieter and softer her tone had become. Maybe his words about Admiral
Nelson had really frightened her? “Next step, sitting up….”
“I
can’t….” Chip muttered dejectedly.
“You
can,” Dr. Westhal’s said
forcefully. “I’ve watched you, Commander Morton and I know you’re not the type
to give up. Now come on… up!”
As she spoke he felt her hands sliding under his shoulders from where she
started to push. It was clear that she also didn’t know when to quit and,
reluctantly, Chip used his elbows to help push himself into a sitting position.
However, as soon as he was upright the dizziness returned and he would’ve
fallen backwards again if
the scientist hadn’t remained kneeling behind him supporting his back as she
pushed his head down towards his knees. It crossed his mind that she could now
do him some serious damage if she wanted to but he had no choice but to trust
her as he fought against the pain and nausea that kept assaulting his senses.
He was relieved when, a few minutes later, his head started to clear and he
struggled against her hold on the back of his head.
“Better,
now?” she queried, her voice sharp and business like.
“Yes,”
Chip mumbled his reply.
“Good… now let’s get you on your feet.” He
felt a firm hand on his right elbow. “When you’re ready, Commander. I won’t let
you fall. I promise.”
It
was on the tip of Chip’s tongue to say that she wouldn’t have a choice if he
fainted again. He remembered that the scientist was at least six inches shorter
than his six feet and was incredibly thin; he didn’t think she would have the
strength to support someone of his size. However, appearances could be
deceptive and as he came slowly to his feet and the dizziness returned he felt
an iron-like grip on his elbow and another firm hand on his back as she
propelled him towards the bed.
Five
minutes later, he was back in bed with the blankets tucked firmly around his
aching body. His throbbing hands rested once again on pillows by his sides and
something cold and wet was pressed against the cut on his chin.
“Thank
you,” he stuttered his gratitude and wasn’t surprised by the scientist’s gruff
response.
“Forget
it, Commander. Like I told you before, you couldn’t stay on the floor; you were making the place untidy.
Now maybe this time you’ll accept your limitations and stay where you are until
help comes. I promise you that as soon as this storm is over you’ll be out of
here so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
Ironic choice of
words, Chip
thought tiredly. He was sure his head would spin, that was if it didn’t explode
before then.
“Now
can I get you anything?” Dr. Westhal’s voice was still firm and business-like
but not as icy as it had been before. “You must be thirsty; Mr. Morton and I would think some
pain relief might be welcome.”
“It
would, thank you.” Chip listened as she moved away from him and he heard the
sounds of liquid being poured and packets being opened. He wondered tiredly if
her sudden desire to help him was because of the threat he’d made to tell
Admiral Nelson about her behaviour, or was she about to poison him? He
thought how irrational that idea sounded but he knew he wouldn’t have a clue
what she was giving him.
“Here
you go….” He felt her hand beneath his head, supporting him as she held a metal
cup to his lips. “Drink it!” she ordered.
“What
is it?” he asked suspiciously.
“Milk.
Milk and crushed aspirin. It’ll do you
good, Commander.”
“No
sedatives. I don’t want to sleep.”
“You’d
be better off asleep,” she replied gruffly, “but there’s no sedative, just
aspirin. It’s all I’ve got and I doubt it’ll ease your pain completely but it
should help a bit. I’m sure if Ronnie had realized how bad the storm would get
he’d have left medication for you, but he didn’t so I’m afraid you’ll
have to wait for something stronger.”
“Aspirin’ll
do,” Chip muttered and drank gratefully from the mug she’d offered. The milk
was cool and tasted incredibly refreshing to his desperately dry mouth and
throat. Hopefully, the aspirin would take the edge of his headache and enable
him to think more clearly. When he had emptied the mug Dr Westhal released his
head and he sank gratefully back onto the pillows. “Thank you,” he muttered.
“No
trouble,” she answered briskly and he heard her move away across the hut. “Is
there anything else you want, Commander?”
“No,
thank you,” Chip replied.
“I’ll
get back to my work then,” Marion Westhal said quietly. “Try and sleep,
Commander. It’ll help the time pass more quickly.”
Chip
listened as the scientist’s footsteps crossed the space between the bed and her
desk and he
heard
the sound of her chair scraping on the wooden floor as she sat down. He knew
that her advice to try and sleep was sensible but, although he felt drowsy, he
was still in too much pain and too anxious to fall asleep properly. In
addition, the sound of the wind howling and whistling around the hut kept him
awake and alert; it was so incredibly loud. Chip recalled reading somewhere
that the loss of one sense heightened the reactions of those left and wondered
whether the loss of his sight had made his hearing more acute or whether the
wind was really that loud. He shifted his legs restlessly and tried not to
think about his eyes, although it was difficult not to
when they kept stinging and watering beneath the bandages. The thought that he
might never see again scared him so much that he couldn’t allow himself to
dwell on it and he tried hard to force his mind to think of other, pleasanter
things but every thought brought him back to the possible loss of his sight.
Thinking about Seaview made him wonder about how he would cope without his job,
a job that he loved.
Thinking about
his life ashore just made him think about all the things he wouldn’t be able to
do, like watching his beloved football
on TV. Feeling increasingly distressed he turned his fragmented thoughts to his
family only to find himself worrying about being a burden to his sister and
brother-in-law. Wherever his thoughts went they came back to his sight. Without
thinking he sighed heavily and immediately heard the sound of Dr. Westhal’s
chair scraping across the floor.
“What’s
wrong now?” she asked gruffly as her footsteps approached the bed.
“Nothing….”
“Nothing,
you say?” she repeated his words as she stood and observed him. His legs were
moving restlessly under the blankets and she wondered whether it was pain or
boredom or both that made him unable to keep still. Looking down at him she
realized that the more she looked at him the less his appearance frightened
her. It was hard now to recall the features that had invoked such terrifying
memories. With the bandages covering his upper head and face, the fresh scabs
on his chin and his badly bitten lower lip he didn’t look anything like the
young man she’d taken such a strong dislike to. He could have been anybody and
she found that her earlier stirrings of compassion for him began to grow a
little stronger. Fetching her chair she placed it by his bed and sat down.
“I
am sorry, Commander,” she said quietly. “Despite what you might think I didn’t
want to see you get hurt. I admit I don’t like you but it’s nothing you said or
did, it’s just the way things are and I am sorry that you’ve been hurt. I don’t
think that you deserved it.”
For
a moment Chip didn’t say anything as his mind fought to assimilate this
unexpected turn of events. The last thing he had envisaged was an apology from
the frosty Doctor. He really had believed that she had been pleased about his
injuries and that she somehow enjoyed his suffering but now her words of
apology forced him to rethink his own ideas and he found that his earlier
curiosity was reawakened.
“So
why,” he asked now. “If I haven’t done or said anything, why do you hate me?”
“Does
there have to be a reason?”
“I
think so,” Chip licked his sore lips as he replied. “Was Lee right?”
“Lee?” The question momentarily confused her. “Oh,
you mean Captain Crane?”
“Yes,
he thinks I remind you of someone, someone who’s upset or hurt you in the
past.”
“I
know, he told me,” Marion Westhal replied and Chip detected an abruptness back
in her tone as she continued, “but it’s irrelevant, Commander. I’ve said I’m
sorry, let’s leave it at that.”
There
was a silence after her words and Chip realized that he risked antagonizing her
again if he persisted in asking for an explanation but his curiosity was
aroused and he was anxious to talk about anything that might distract him from
his own pain and fears so he said quietly, “I don’t think it’s irrelevant. Not
to me. You admit that I’ve done nothing to deserve your hatred and yet you
continue to hate me. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”
“Not
really,” Marion Westhal replied coolly. “I doubt that you’d understand it,
Commander, even if I told you.”
“You
don’t know that for sure,” Chip argued. “It might do you good to talk about
it.” Even as he spoke the words he realized that he’d gone too far.
“Do
me good?” Marion Westhal got to her feet, her anger back in full force. She
started to pace the small room, twisting her hands together agitatedly. “Who
the hell do you think you are Commander to lay there and tell me what would do
me good? You’ve got no idea! No idea at all. I know you’ve been hurt now but
what do you really know about suffering, Commander Morton? Real suffering that
is. Not just physical but real soul tearing hurt? Look at you... typical post-war American. You’ve
had all the privileges…Blond hair, blue eyes, good brain,
“Shut
up!” Chip suddenly shouted back at her. “Just shut up! I don’t know who the
bloody hell you’re mixing me up with, Doctor but you’re obviously so damn
bitter about it that it’s warped your mind. You’re talking rubbish, absolute
rubbish. You don’t know a damn thing about me or about my life, so don’t make
assumptions based on your own prejudices.”
“How
dare you talk to me like that?” Marion Westhal derided.
Chip
swallowed hard and raised himself up on his elbows, his own anger giving him
strength. “I dare for the same reason you do! For your information, Doctor, I
have not had an easy life. My parents were killed when I was ten years old so
don’t tell me that I don’t know what suffering is.”
For
a moment there was silence except for the continuing sound of the storm
outside.
Chip
slumped back down on his pillows and was surprised to find that his whole body
was trembling with physical and emotional exhaustion. He hadn’t meant to
explode like that but he had found the doctor’s assumptions insulting and he’d
had enough of her attitude problem. He was surprised when she spoke again to
hear that her voice was full of quiet apology.
“I’m
sorry, Commander. I had no idea….” She sounded upset but Chip was past caring
and growled his reply.
“No,
you didn’t and nobody could expect you to but you’re so bloody twisted and
bitter that you can’t see beyond the colour of my hair.”
“That’s
not true,” Dr. Westhal protested.
“Isn’t
it?” Chip challenged his own voice suddenly very
croaky. “You weren’t talking about me. You were thinking about some former
boyfriend or husband or something.”
“I
wasn’t,” Marion Westhal’s voice sounded choked. “Honestly, Commander Morton.
I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It was wrong of me to make those
assumptions. It must have been very hard losing your parents so young.”
“Just
forget it,” Chip muttered wearily. “It was a long time ago. I’ve grown up and
moved on. I don’t hold it against anyone else. We all have our problems, Doctor
Westhal, but it’s how we deal with them
that counts and whatever your problem is I suggest you sort it out before
you’re forced to work again with someone who has blond hair and blue eyes.”
“It’s
not that easy,” Doctor Westhal said unhappily.
“Nothing
worth doing ever is,” Chip responded. “Could you get me another drink, please?”
“Yes,
yes, of course,” Dr Westhal seemed only too pleased to have a change of
subject. “Will milk do?”
“Yes.”
Chip listened to the wind as the doctor went to fetch his drink. It sounded as
if it might be losing its ferocity and he wondered if the storm might finally
be coming to an end. He hoped so. He couldn’t wait to get away from this waking
nightmare.
“Here’s
your drink. Let me help you up,” Marion Westhal’s subdued voice interrupted his
thoughts and he felt her hand lifting his head as the cold rim of the cup
touched his lips. The milk was cold and very refreshing and Chip drank greedily, soon emptying the cup. He licked
his lips and savoured the smooth feel of cold milk on his dry throat as the
doctor eased him back down.
“Is
the storm dying out?” he asked now. “The wind isn’t as strong as it was
before.”
“I’ll
go and look.”
Chip
listened as the doctor crossed the wooden floor to the door. He heard the door
creak and then felt a rush of freezing air cross the room as the door opened.
“Good
news!” the doctor said cheerfully as she shut the door. “The wind is dying down and the snowfall is
lighter. Looks like our enforced time together is coming to an end.”
“Thank
goodness for that!”
Chip’s
words were heartfelt and he thought that he detected a hint of amusement in the
doctor’s tone as she replied: “My thoughts exactly, Commander!”
So that was that, Chip thought with relief. Even if
Seaview couldn’t get here yet the end of the storm would at least mean that he
could be moved from the doctor’s hut to some other accommodation away from her.
It meant that he never would get the answer as to why she hated him but it had
become obvious that she did not intend to share her reasons with him and that
he must be content with her apology. It was….
“So
what are we going to tell the others about your chin?” The doctor’s voice
interrupted his thoughts and he sensed that she was close to the bed again.
“My
chin?”
“Yes
Commander. That’s a nasty scrape and it wasn’t there the last time anyone else
saw you, so what are we going to tell
them?”
“I’ll
tell them the truth,” Chip responded irritably. “It was my own fault and… Ah….” He paused as realization
suddenly dawned on his tired mind. “You don’t want your team to know that I was
forced to get out of bed because you refused to help me? Is that it?”
“It
doesn’t reflect well on their leader,” the doctor sounded worried, “and it’s so
unlike me; it’d take some explaining.”
“Yes,
I can certainly understand that,” Chip said, slowly as an idea began to form in
his mind. “You might have to tell them the truth that you’re refusing to tell
me, is that it?”
“Don’t
start that again, Commander. I’ve already told you that you wouldn’t
understand.”
“You
don’t know that, you’re just making assumptions again,” Chip challenged boldly.
“You tell me the truth and I’ll tell your team and my men that I fell out of
bed.”
“That’s
blackmail!”
“I
prefer to think of it as a compromise,” Chip replied quietly. “And don’t tell
me again that I won’t understand. As you pointed out earlier I graduated from
There
was a long silence as Marion Westhal considered his words. It was clear that he
was determined to know exactly what lay behind her attitude towards him and
part of her wanted to tell him but it was so hard to talk about that she wasn’t
sure she could put it into words without getting emotional. But did that
matter? It wasn’t as if he could see her and in a few hours he would hopefully
be gone and they would never meet again. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad
thing….
She
cleared her throat. “Alright, Commander, I’ll try to explain it to you. What do
you remember about the war? The Second World War.”
Chip
sighed, “Nothing. I’m not old enough to remember the war but I have studied the
history. I do know about it.”
“Hmmph,
you know facts. You don’t know what it was like,” Marion Westhal murmured
reflectively.
“So
tell me,” Chip urged softly. “Tell me what it was like for you.”
“What
do you know of Adolph Hitler?” Marion Westhal’s voice seemed to come from far
away, as if she’d already gone back in time.
“Hitler?”
Chip felt confused by the way the conversation was going. “Chancellor of
“Did
you know that one of his goals was to create a master race?”
“I’ve
read about it, yes.”
“And
are you not aware, Commander Morton, that you fit his ideal perfectly? With
your blond hair, blue eyes, physical strength and good brain you have
everything that made a perfect human being in his eyes. Hitler would have loved
you.”
“And
that’s it?” Chip’s voice betrayed his incredulity. “You hate me because Hitler
would have loved me? That’s crazy!”
“Oh,
there’s more, Commander, a lot more. Have you heard of the concentration
camps?”
“Yes.”
“Have
you ever wondered what life was like inside one?”
“Not
really,” Chip confessed quietly, suddenly wishing that he’d never pushed her to
talk but still curious to know what she was going to say.
“I
don’t have to imagine, Commander. I know. I was born in
Chip
wisely made no comment as he tried to understand what she was telling him. It sounded so unbelievable. He’d read about
what had happened to the Jews but that was all. It was hard to believe that a
survivor was talking to him now. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to tell him. He
forced his exhausted mind to focus as she continued.
“My
mother and I survived but she died not long after the end of the war. I was
nearly sixteen. My mother had relations in the States and they insisted that I come to live with them. I had nowhere
else to go so I accepted their invitation.” She trailed off, her voice sad.
Chip
waited patiently. He wanted to ask more questions but did not want to intrude
further, although he still couldn’t understand where her hatred of him fitted
into all this.
“I
guess you’re wondering how my experiences affected my attitude towards you,”
Dr. Westhal seemed to read his mind.
“Yes,”
he nodded slightly.
“I
spent five years of my life in that concentration camp, being guarded by
Germans several of whom fitted Hitler’s ideal and one of them…” she paused,
“one of them looked like you, Commander. I don’t just mean that he had your
colouring. I mean that he looked like you. He had the same
features, the same shaped head and face, even his smile was like yours except
that his was evil and yours isn’t. He could have been your twin.” Her voice
sounded distressed. “Those soldiers made
our lives a living hell and they derived pleasure from it. They made us cut our
hair very short. They deprived us of food.
Never allowed us privacy to bathe… they…they used physical violence
against us and some…” Marion Westhal swallowed tensely, “…some women they used for their… pleasure…”
There
was silence as the doctor
fought
to regain control of her fragile emotions. Then she continued, her voice raw. “I’ve spent a
lifetime trying to forget those years, Commander but when I first saw you in
the corridor back at the Institute and you smiled at me, all those memories came flooding
back. It was like meeting a ghost, reliving a nightmare and then, when I found
out who you were, I had to be hostile towards you.
It was the only way I could cope.”
Chip
was so stunned that he didn’t know what to say. Whatever he had thought she was
going to tell him, it was nothing like this. He felt rather guilty now for
pushing her to give him a reason for her attitude. He hadn’t missed the intense
emotion behind her words and knew that it couldn’t have been easy for her to
relate events she’d rather forget. Chip could understand that as he still had
great difficulties talking about the traumatic events of his own childhood but,
in comparison to Dr. Westhal’s past, he’d had a relatively easy time.
Marion
Westhal mistook his silence for misunderstanding and there was defensiveness in
her tone as she interrupted his thoughts. “I told you, you wouldn’t
understand.”
“But
I do,” Chip hastened to reassure her. “I do understand why your memories meant
you had to hate me, but why didn’t you tell Admiral
Nelson? He’s your friend; he could have arranged it so that we didn’t have to
see each other. I could have taken leave or….”
“Maybe,”
the doctor’s voice sounded weary as she interrupted him. “But as you may
understand now, Commander, I don’t find it easy to talk about. I don’t want to
talk about it. I’d rather just forget.”
“And
all the time I was around you were forced to remember,” Chip couldn’t help
feeling incredibly guilty. “It sounds rather inadequate in the circumstances
but I am sorry, very sorry. I never imagined that your reasons could be so… so justifiably painful.”
For
a long time there was silence in the small hut while both occupants were lost
in their own thoughts. Dr. Westhal eventually broke it.
“Can
I ask you something?” Dr. Westhal’s voice penetrated Chip’s thoughts again.
“What?”
“I
know that you’re American, but do you know where your family originates from? I
mean….”
“Do
I have German ancestry?” Chip responded helpfully.
“Well,
do you?”
Chip
hesitated, unsure of whether the truth would create new tensions between them.
“Yes,
I have,” He paused. “My mother was half German. Her father’s family moved to
the States in 1906.”
“I
thought as much,” Marion Westhal sounded rather self-satisfied and Chip felt
his own anger return.
He
accepted that he looked like someone she remembered way back in her past but he
didn’t like the implication that there was some distant relationship between
him and the Nazi soldier who had caused her so much anguish. “I
don’t take after my mother’s family,” he replied coolly “If that’s what you’re
thinking.”
“I’m
sure you must take after them in some respects,” Dr. Westhal said calmly.
“Maybe,
but I look like my father,” Chip replied, his voice intensely serious. “And his
family were from
“I
see,” Aware that her insinuation had upset him and, suddenly feeling very
tired, Marion Westhal decided against pursuing the subject any more. Getting up
she walked again to the door opened it and looked out. To her immense relief
the wind had dropped to a slight breeze and the snow had stopped falling.
“Good
news!” she announced with forced cheerfulness. “The storm has finished,
Commander.”
The
one outside or inside,
Chip wondered.
“Thank
goodness!” he
said
with equally forced optimism. “Could you fetch Mr. Morrison for
me please?” he spoke almost eagerly. “We need to get going if we’re going to
get back to Seaview before dark.”
“I’ll
fetch him,” Dr. Westhal said quietly. “So long as you promise to lie still
while I’m gone.”
“I
promise,” Chip, answered seriously, “just hurry will you.”
````````
Marion
Westhal returned after five minutes bringing Craig Morrison with her. As Craig
had known he would be his superior was very unhappy to hear that Seaview had
left.
“What
do you mean she’s gone? Gone where? Why didn’t you tell me
Mr. Morrison?”
“You
were asleep, sir.” Craig replied unhappily. “We didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You
wouldn’t have disturbed me,” Chip snapped. “I’ve got a right to know what’s
going on, Mister!” Pain, fatigue and disappointment helped to fuel an unusual
display of temper from Seaview’s exec. “You should have told me. I’m still in
command of this landing party. Any reports from the Seaview should’ve been
given to me immediately.”
“I’m
sorry, sir,” Craig muttered quietly. “It won’t happen again.”
“It
better not,” Chip’s voice was harsh. “When did you last hear from them?”
“Early
hours of this morning, sir. We’ve heard nothing since the skipper called to tell us they had to dive.
I guess they’re looking for a place to surface now that the storm has passed.”
Chip
sighed. He was so desperate to get back to the warmth and safety of Seaview
that he found Craig’s news hard to accept. It was already late afternoon.
Chances were that unless Seaview managed to surface nearer to the camp, which
was an unlikely possibility, it would soon be too dark for any rescue mission.
The thought of spending another night on the ice, helpless and in pain filled
him with dread.
“Very
well,” he spoke shortly to Morrison. “Make sure somebody is monitoring the
radio at all times and report to me the minute you hear anything. Understand?”
“Aye,
sir,” Craig nodded and left. He hoped Seaview would make contact soon. He
didn’t want to have to deal with the exec’s bad mood indefinitely.
```````
Meanwhile,
back on Seaview, some sixteen miles away, Lee Crane’s mood was no happier than
that of his executive officer.
“Are
you sure we can’t get any closer before nightfall?” he demanded of Bobby
O’Brien.
“Positive,
sir,” O’Brien nodded. “If you remember, we knew when we dived that we might not
be able to get so close to the camp a second time. The ice pack is shifting all
the time and….”
“Yes,
I know,” Lee cut Bobby off mid-sentence. “So what you’re saying is we can
surface here and they can walk sixteen miles to reach us, which they won’t be
able to do before nightfall, or we can try and find a place to surface closer
to the camp but then it’ll still be too dark to get them back on board
tonight.”
“That’s
right, sir,” Bobby nodded unhappily.
“It’s
not good enough,” Lee muttered unhappily. He wasn’t really worried about the
landing party. If necessary, they could survive at the research station for
weeks, but they needed to get Chip back aboard Seaview as soon as possible. It
was almost twenty-four hours now since he’d been hurt. It wouldn’t be fair to
make him spend another night at the camp. And what if the weather changed
again? The outlook was quite favourable but it was by no means guaranteed. If
another storm blew up it could be days before they got Chip back aboard. Lee
wasn’t sure he could cope with the constant suspense and the crew were getting
jittery. It wasn’t good for morale to remain under the ice for an indefinite
amount of time.
“It’s
a shame we can’t launch the flying sub,” O’Brien’s voice interrupted Lee’s
thoughts. “If….”
“Yes,
we…wait a minute….” Lee’s hazel eyes shone with the germination of an idea.
“Maybe that’s it…
if
I took the flying sub out maybe I could find an opening in the ice closer to
the research station. At least I’d be able to bring Mr. Morton back with me.”
“It’d
be awfully risky, sir,” O’Brien said doubtfully. “And what if you can’t find a
break in the ice?”
“What
if we took Seaview to open waters and I flew in from there?” Lee asked, wishing
he’d thought of this before.
“It’s
at least two hours sailing to open waters,” O’Brien pointed out. “And there’s
the flight time and it’ll be dark and…”
“They
can give me a homing signal to go in on,” Lee dismissed O’Brien’s objections.
“If we head out to sea now I could be airborne by 18.30 hours. I could have Mr.
Morton back aboard before 21.00. Surface now and we’ll tell them what we’re
intending to do.”
“Aye,
aye, sir.”
```````
“The
flying sub!” Chip Morton greeted the news from Seaview sceptically. “He’s
crazy. He’ll never get it launched from beneath the ice …”
“He’s
not going to, sir,” Craig explained carefully. “They’re heading for open waters
and he’s going to fly in from there. The skipper reckons he’ll be here within three
hours. You should be back aboard Seaview by 21.00”
“Me?
What about the rest of you?”
“He’s
bringing
“I
guess so,” Chip muttered quietly. Part of him didn’t think he should leave
before the men he was in charge of but he knew nobody, least of all Lee, would
listen to any argument and he was so desperate to get “home” that he wasn’t
even going to voice such a thought.
```````
Lee
Crane was struggling into his arctic clothing when there was a knock at his
cabin door.
“Come
in!” He pulled a thick sweater over his head as the door opened and Jamie
appeared.
“Doc.
What can I do for you?” Lee pulled his sweater straight and grinned at the
doctor.
“It’s
more a case of what I can do for you,” Jamie said sternly.
“Oh,”
Lee frowned and sat down on his bunk. “Look, Jamie, I know what you’re going to
say but my ankle’s a lot better now and there’s nobody else aboard who has the
experience to fly FS1 so far. It’s not like I’m going to be walking.”
“What about when you get there?” the doctor queried.
“Walking on ice and snow puts a lot of strain on your ankles.”
“I
won’t be walking very far,” Lee, said his voice and expression serious. “For
Chip’s sake I want to land as close to the camp as possible. We’re just going
to walk in there, collect Chip and come straight back out. It’s not going to
hurt me, Jamie.”
“Are
you sure it’s a good idea to take the flying sub out there?” Jamie asked
sceptically. “I wouldn’t have thought it would be easy to land it on the ice
and snow.”
“It’s
just the same as landing it anywhere else,” Lee replied confidently. “It’s
equipped to land on any terrain known to man. I know the situation isn’t ideal,
Jamie but the priority is to get Chip back aboard Seaview as soon as possible.
I can rest my ankle later; it’s trivial compared to Chip’s injuries.”
“Point
taken,” Jamie sighed. “What time do you expect to arrive back?”
“All
being well we should be back by 21.00 hours,” Lee replied. “But I’ll radio in
as soon as we’re on our way back so that you’ll know just when to expect us.”
“We’ll
be ready,” Jamie said confidently. “If I think it’s necessary how long do you
think it’ll take to fly Chip to the mainland?”
“Three
to four hours,” Lee replied quietly. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to finish
getting ready.”
```````
It
was 19.30 hours precisely, fifty minutes after they’d left Seaview, when Lee
Crane landed the flying sub to the west of the research station. Specially
designed landing gear ensured a good grip on the snow covered terrain and Lee
quietly hoped that his takeoff would be as easy as his landing had been.
When
he emerged from the yellow craft he wasn’t surprised to find the landing party,
minus his exec, waiting for him.
“It’s
good to see you, sir,” Craig Morrison’s voice held a definite note of relief
and Lee guessed that the young officer had found the past twenty-six hours
something of a strain.
“It’s
good to be here,” he responded as
“In
Dr. Westhal’s hut,” Morrison replied, pointing towards the camp. “He’ll be
really glad you’re here, sir.”
“I
know,” Lee nodded and turned to the waiting sailors. “Okay men. Some of you
give Andy a hand with the extra supplies we’ve bought. I want to be airborne
again as soon as possible.”
He
strode towards the camp with Morrison and soon came face to face with an icily
polite Dr. Westhal.
“Captain
Crane! It’s about time you arrived. You’ve no idea what a disruption all this
has been to my work! I would have thought with all your hi-tech equipment you
could have come back hours ago. Have you any idea how terrible it’s been for
Commander Morton, wondering if you were ever going to come back for him?” The
scientist’s voice softened with her last words and Lee frowned with surprise.
He had expected an icy welcome but he hadn’t expected her to support his exec.
In fact he had expected her to blame Chip for everything whether he deserved it
or not.
“I’m
sorry,” he said apologetically. “But the weather conditions were out of our
control. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to collect Commander Morton and get
out of here.”
“What
about the rest of your crew?” Marion Westhal demanded.
“I’ll
take Kowalski back with me but Lieutenant Morrison and the others will have to
stay here until we can bring Seaview back for them.”
“And
when will that be?”
“I
don’t know,” Lee admitted. “Later tomorrow probably. It depends on Commander
Morton’s condition. I’m not moving back under the ice until our doctor has
examined his injuries. We might have to send him to a hospital before we can
come back for the others but we’ve brought some more supplies and we will come back as soon as it is
possible. I’m sorry that we’re inconveniencing you but I didn’t plan the bad
weather or Commander Morton’s accident.”
“I
suppose not,” Marion Westhal said grudgingly. “Your friend is in my hut if you
want to follow me.”
Chip
was half asleep when Lee and Marion Westhal entered the hut accompanied by
Ronnie Hansen but he awoke as he felt the blast of cold air through the open
door.
“Lee?
Is that you?” He struggled to sit up only to find strong hands on his shoulders
forcing him to remain on his back.
“I
thought you promised to keep still,” Marion Westhal’s voice was reproving. “You
can relax now, Commander. The cavalry have arrived.”
“Hi,
Chip. I’m sorry we took so long,” Lee Crane’s voice was full of apology. “How d’you feel?”
“I’m
fine,” Chip responded quietly. “But I’m glad you’re here. Can we go
home now?”
“Sure
can,” Lee replied cheerfully. “Just as soon as we’ve got you aboard FS1 we’ll
head back for Seaview.”
“I
can get myself aboard,” Chip said determinedly. “There’s nothing wrong with my
legs, Lee. I’ve been laying here for over twenty-four hours and nobody lets me
do anything.”
Lee
sighed. He could hear the irritable and frustrated tone in his friend’s voice
but he was determined that they would do things the way he had planned and he
hadn’t planned on his friend walking anywhere. “Listen, Chip,” he said calmly.
“The idea of me flying in here was to get you back to Seaview as soon as
possible. The flying sub is a good ten minute walk from here across ice and
snow. You’re in no fit state to walk it; you’ll just slow us down
unnecessarily.”
“But…”
“But
nothing, Mr. Morton,” Lee’s voice took on its command tone. “You’re not walking and that’s an order!”
Chip
sighed heavily and shut up knowing that he wasn’t going to win the argument. He
remained silent as Lee and Hansen strapped him to a stretcher cocooned in
layers of blankets and then carried him across the snow to the flying sub.
While Kowalski and Anderson secured the stretcher for the flight home Lee went
in search of Dr. Westhal who had disappeared while he was busy with his friend.
He found her in the communications hut in conversation with her radio operator.
She looked up when Lee entered.
“Hello,
Captain. Are you ready to go?” she enquired politely.
“We
are” Crane nodded. “I’ll be in touch as soon as possible about removing the
rest of my men.”
“I
look forward to hearing from you,” Marion Westhal almost smiled. “Goodbye,
Captain Crane.”
“Goodbye,
Dr. Westhal,” Lee nodded briefly and turned back towards the door. He was about
to open it when the doctor’s voice stopped him.
“Captain.”
“Yes,
Doctor,” He turned back to look at her as she crossed the hut to stand next to
him.
“I…”She
hesitated. “I just wanted to tell you that the accident wasn’t Commander
Morton’s fault. He was trying to help me and I wasn’t very grateful. What
happened was just a pure accident. I…er…I’d be grateful if you would let me
know how things turn out for him, Captain.”
“Of
course,” Lee nodded, surprised by the sudden concern the frosty doctor seemed
to be showing for a man she’d claimed to hate for no good reason. “Now, if
you’ll excuse me I’ve got to be going.”
````````
As
soon as the flying sub docked aboard Seaview a team of sailors carefully
removed the stretcher-bound exec and took him to sickbay
where Jamie was waiting for him.
Anxious
to know exactly what was going on Lee made his own way to sickbay without even
stopping to remove his heavy arctic clothing but he found that Jamie was not
very welcoming.
“If
you want me to look at that ankle you’ll have to wait,” he told Lee, his tone
apologetic but firm.
“Of
course I don’t,” Lee shook his dark head. “I just want to know what’s happening
with Chip.”
“Soon
as I know anything I’ll tell you, but it’ll be a while yet so why don’t you get
some rest?”
“I
thought I’d wait here.”
“Oh,
no,” Jamie shook his head. “I don’t want an audience, Lee. I’ll give you a
report on Chip’s injuries as soon as I’m through examining him and I’m not
going to do that any quicker with you hovering on the threshold. Go and get
some rest; you need it. I
promise
you’ll be my first stop when I’ve finished here.”
“Alright
doctor,” Lee agreed reluctantly. “I’ll go to my cabin.”
Lee
couldn’t really blame Jamie for sending him away but he found that he couldn’t
settle. Despite his sore ankle he paced his cabin impatiently. He was
desperately worried about Chip’s injuries and was anxious to know whether they
were going to heal completely. Although he knew that the accident wasn’t his
fault he still felt a degree of guilt and responsibility for what had happened.
If he’d been more careful himself he’d never have sprained his ankle and Chip
would never have gone ashore with the landing party. It was a stupid way to
think, Lee knew, but he couldn’t help such thoughts entering his tired mind.
It
was over an hour later that Jamie finally entered Lee’s cabin following a quick
knock at the door. Lee had become tired of pacing and was lying on his bunk but
he was back on his feet as soon as he saw the doctor.
“Relax!”
Jamie grinned as he sat down on the edge of the desk. “There’s nothing to worry
about.”
“Are
you sure?” Lee asked sceptically as he sat back down on his bunk.
“As
sure as I can be,” Jamie nodded. “Hansen was right about the burns, they’re not
serious although they will take time to heal completely. He was very lucky to
have been wearing all that arctic clothing; it protected him from being
seriously burnt.”
“What
about his eyes?” Lee queried anxiously.
“As
far as I can tell his sight isn’t damaged at all. He says he can’t remember but
I think he must have shut his eyes instinctively against the explosion. It’s
his eyelids and the skin around his eyes that’s causing the pain and that’s why
he says he can’t open them.”
“But
he can?”
“He
will be able to; as soon as the swelling goes down. I
managed to force them open so that I could look at his eyes but I know I hurt
him,” Jamie paused. “I’d still like to send him to a hospital, Lee. Just to be
on the safe side. It wouldn’t hurt to have specialists look at his injuries.
He’s going to be out of commission for a few weeks anyway and he’ll be more
comfortable in a hospital.”
“I
doubt he’ll agree with you,” Lee grinned. “But I’ll get on to the arrangements
first thing in the morning.”
“Okay,”
Jamie hesitated. “There is one other thing.”
“What?”
Lee was instantly alert for any problems.
“That
abrasion on his chin, it’s nothing serious but the scab is very fresh. I’d say
that he got that injury today, not last night, and I just wonder how he got
it.”
“Did
you ask him?”
“I
did.”
“And?”
“And
he told me not to fuss, said he doesn’t know how it happened,” Jamie frowned.
“It’s not important but I do like to know the details of all my patient’s
injuries.”
“I’ll
ask him,” Lee stood up. “I’ll go see him now.”
“No you won’t,” Jamie said firmly. “I’ve given
him something to help him sleep. He didn’t want me to but he’s exhausted, same
as you are. You can talk to him in the morning providing you get some sleep
yourself.”
“Point
taken,” Lee smiled. “Thanks Jamie. I feel more able to sleep now. I’ll see you
in the morning.”
````````
“Hospital!
What for? I thought you said I’d be OK.”
Waking
up after nearly twelve hours of heavily drugged sleep Chip Morton was not
pleased to discover that he was about to be transported to a hospital. He’d
been so anxious to get back to Seaview where he could feel safe and start to
relax and now, less than twenty-four hours after rescuing him they wanted to
abandon him in some hospital somewhere.
“You
will
be
alright,” Jamie said patiently. “But I want your eyes checked by a specialist,
Chip, just to be on the safe side. Besides we’ve got to go back and collect the
rest of the landing party. It’s going to be a couple of weeks before we get
back to Santa Barbara. You’ll be lot more comfortable in a hospital.”
That’s
what
you think,
Chip thought crossly. “I don’t mind staying here,” he said quietly, a pleading
note in his voice.
“I
know,” Jamie’s voice had an authorative edge to it. “But the arrangements are
made, Chip and you’re going. Now, Lee’s outside. He wants to talk to you. Shall I send
him in?”
“Of
course,” Chip muttered his reply. Lee knew how much he hated hospitals; maybe
he’d agree to try and change Jamie’s mind.
Lee,
however, was as immoveable as the doctor. “No way, Chip,” he said
apologetically. “I know you’d rather stay here but Jamie’s right. It’s a good
idea to have you examined by specialists and you’ll be more comfortable in a
hospital. We’re going back under the ice and you know how bumpy that can be. It
won’t be any fun for you in here.”
“It
won’t be any fun for me in the hospital either,” Chip responded moodily. “Where
am I going?”
“Bethseda.”
“Bethseda!
You mean Washington?”
“Yes,”
Lee said cheerfully. “They have all the expertise you need and it’s not too
many miles from Connecticut.”
“Oh,
no,” Chip objected. “I don’t want Helen to know, Lee. It’s not fair.”
“It’s
unfair not to tell her,” Lee said seriously. “And she’ll have to know
eventually. Jamie thinks they’ll only keep you in the hospital for a few days
but your hands won’t be healed enough for you to take care of yourself. I
figured you’d want to go to your sister’s but if you’d rather stay in the
hospital I’m sure it can be arranged.”
“Okay.
You win,” Chip sighed. He appreciated Lee’s thoughtfulness but he still hated
the way everyone was organizing his life for him.
“So
how did you cut your chin?” Lee’s question was casual but he didn’t miss the
way his friend tensed in response.
“I
dunno,” Chip lied even though he knew that he wouldn’t be allowed to get away
with it.
“You
don’t know?” Lee chided him. “I don’t believe you, Chip. How’d it happen? Did
Dr. Westhal do it?”
“Of
course not,” Chip’s reply was irritable. “Why’d you think that?”
“Well,
we both know that she doesn’t like you. She must have been mad to have you
stuck in her camp. I just wondered if you upset her.”
“I
upset her a lot,” Chip muttered, “but she didn’t hurt me, Lee. If you must
know, I tried to get out of bed and I fell. I scraped my chin on the floor.”
Safe
in the knowledge that his friend couldn’t see his reaction, Lee grinned
broadly. He could understand the frustration that would’ve made Chip try and
get up and also understood why he had been reluctant to admit his activities to
Jamie who would have had plenty to say about foolhardiness and not knowing when
to quit.
“It’s
no fun laying in the dark doing nothing,” Chip said now. “You would’ve done the
same as me.”
“Probably,”
Lee admitted. “So how was Dr. Westhal? She actually seemed quite concerned
about you when we arrived. Did your injuries melt her heart?”
“Not
exactly,” Chip replied quietly, “but she’s not so bad, Lee. Once you get to
know her.”
“And
you got to know her?” Lee was intrigued.
“A
bit,” Chip hesitated. “You were right. I do remind her of someone.”
“I
knew it,” Lee was pleased. “Who?”
“It’s
a very long story,” Chip replied tiredly. “And I’m not even sure that it would
be fair of me to repeat it.”
“Are
you telling me she’s been confiding in you?” Lee asked incredulously.
“Not
really,” Chip shook his head slightly. “She was just explaining why she’s been
so hostile towards me.”
“But
you’re not going to tell me?” Lee guessed.
“Not
now, no,” Chip agreed. “I thought you were
sending me to the mainland?”
“We
are indeed,” Lee stood up. “I’m sorry, Chip, but it’s for the best.”
“That’s
a matter of opinion,” Chip retorted.
“It’s
got to be better than being stranded in the Arctic,” Lee remarked, cheerfully.
“It’s
probably warmer,” Chip muttered. “But that won’t make it feel any better.”
“I
guess not. I’ll go and check if the flying sub is ready for you.”
“Thanks!”
Chip listened as Lee headed towards the door. There was something else he
wanted to say before his friend disappeared, but he was reluctant to give rise
to any more probing questions. He hesitated as he heard the door opening and then
he called him back.
“Lee….”
“Yes?”
Lee turned back towards his exec’s bunk.
“When
you talk to Dr. Westhal again, could you give her a message?”
“Sure,”
Lee sounded surprised. “What?”
“Just
tell her, Thanks for talking to me and… and for taking care of me. I know
it wasn’t easy for her and it interfered with her work, but I did appreciate it and I
never got around to saying so myself.”
“You
could tell her yourself when we go back to collect them,” Lee suggested, a hint
of amusement in his voice.
“Oh,
no,” Chip’s voice was decisive. “I’m not going back there, Lee. When you go to
collect them I’m
going
to take a vacation same as I should’ve done this time.”
“Deliberately
miss a mission? You?” Lee laughed. “I’ll believe that when it happens.”
“Believe
it,” Chip replied adamantly
as he settled himself more comfortably against his pillows. “Because I mean it!”