A Matter
of Honor
by
LeeLee Robinson
(leeleerobinson@comcast.net)
Captain’s
Cabin, 2130 hours
“Skipper,
this Michael Ryder. He’s been assigned
as your new steward,” Kowalski said.
“Pleased
to meet you, Ryder. Welcome aboard the
Seaview.”
“Thank
you, sir. It’s a great privilege to be
here.”
“I’d
have to agree with you there. Come, sit
down.”
Ryder
looked back at Kowalski for a cue.
“Captain says sit, Ryder, you sit.”
“I
meant it as an invitation, not an order,” Lee Crane said kindly. “I assume Kowalski’s fully briefed you on
your duties.”
“Yes,
sir,” Ryder said softly as he nervously moved into Crane’s guest chair.
“Then
I’m sure we can count on a smooth transition.
That will be all Kowalski.”
Ryder
looked as if he wanted to flee.
“I’ve
been known to bark, Ryder, but never to bite.
Relax. Tell me a little about
yourself.”
“Uh,
yes sir.”
“Why
so nervous, son?”
“Um,
you’re the commander of the Seaview, sir.
I, well, I didn’t expect to be sitting here on my first night.”
“Assigned
the stellar privilege of keeping my coffee pot filled and my quarters spic and
span?”
“I,
I don’t mind sir.”
“What’s
your background, Ryder?”
“I’m
taking a gap year between college and graduate school.”
“What
are you studying?”
“Architecture,
specifically naval architecture.”
“You
took an undergraduate degree in engineering, then?”
“Yes,
I mean, yes, sir.”
“You
don’t need to say ‘sir’ in every sentence.
We’re a civilian ship.”
“Yes,
sir. Oh.
I’ll work on that.”
“Good. Dare I ask how you got this plum assignment
as my steward given that technical background?”
“I
wrote to the Nelson Institute seeking an internship.”
“Do
you have connections with any one at the Institute?”
“No,
sir, not directly. I did have references
and recommendations from my professors at RPI who know people at the
Institute.”
“Good
for you. I like initiative in a young
man. Sorry that this position doesn’t
call for much of it, but we’ll try to see that your exposed to enough to make
it worth your while.”
“Just
being aboard the Seaview is enough for me, sir.
She’s unique.”
“True
enough. That said, we’re always working to improve her. Don’t hesitate to give me your thoughts and
forgive me if I give you too many of mine.”
Ryder
relaxed a bit at last. “Yes, sir, thank
you, sir.”
“So
if Kowalski’s briefed you well, you know that I like to tour her before I go to
bed.”
“Yes,
sir. I’ll have your things laid out for
you and the hot cocoa will be waiting.”
“How
about taking a turn about her with me?
Don’t tell anyone, but I actually do know how to take my own pajamas out
of the drawer.”
“I’d
love that, sir.”
Lee
Crane’s customary evening walk through the boat took over an hour and a half,
unusually long given he hadn’t spotted any trouble. He and Ryder engaged in enthusiastic
discussion about the Seaview’s design.
They talked nonstop about design details, pausing only to make sure that
Ryder had been introduced to all the crew they encountered. At last, they returned to the captain’s
cabin.
“I’ll
bring your cocoa in a minute, sir.”
“I’ll
be fine without it given the hour. See
you in the morning, Ryder.”
“At
0600, yes, sir, and thank you sir.”
“Whatever
for?”
“For
not biting,” he smiled.
“Good
night.”
“Good
night, sir.”
* * *
Captain’s
Cabin, 0600 hours
At
0600 hours prompt, Ryder delivered the captain’s coffee, breakfast and the overnight
reports. He returned at 0630 hours to
find the captain at the bottom of the four cup coffee pot, but barely having
eaten half his breakfast.
“You
can take it, Ryder.”
Ryder
hesitated.
“Problem,
Ryder?”
“No,
not exactly sir.”
“Then
what is it?”
“Nothing,
sir.”
“Then
why do you look terrified?” Lee asked as he pushed the plate toward Ryder. “Come on, tell me. That’s an order.”
“Someone
suggested that I would regret it if I returned a plate that wasn’t empty to
Cook.”
“Cookie
and Doc worry that I live on too much coffee and not enough food. I just don’t have a big appetite, at least
not on board Seaview. No disrespect to
Cookie. When I’m on the job, I’m just
not that interested.”
“I
understand, sir.”
“Yes,
I suspect you do. I’m sure that your
folks are probably after you to bulk up a bit.”
“Yes,
sir.”
Captain
Crane emptied the rest of his plate into the trashcan by his desk. “Problem solved. No one’s feelings will be hurt.”
“Yes,
sir. Thank you, sir.”
The
skipper turned back to his papers, then looked up again with a wry smile. “I should warn you. Now Kowalski’s going to feel deprived of a
good laugh.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Maybe
you should scorch a pair of my pants instead.”
“Are
you serious, sir?”
“A
puke is going to get hazed one way or another.
It’s all in good fun.”
“Yes,
sir, I know, sir.”
“Ryder,
you really don’t need to worry about Kowalski.
Dismissed.”
Ryder
had one foot outside the door.
“Ryder,”
Lee Crane called as he peered up from his reading, “there are boundaries to
hazing. If you feel anyone crosses them,
let me know immediately.”
“Yes,
sir.”
* * *
Control
Room, 0655 hours
Lee
Crane reported for duty with limited enthusiasm. Besides making certain Seaview was in top
condition and properly operated by her crew, this mission held little
attraction for him. They were to gather
deep sea geological samples from the Pacific to be used in conjunction with
climate change and pollution research.
There was a guest scientist aboard, but so far Lee had found Dr. Elmore
Livsey a dull conversationalist. More
disappointing to Lee was that all the gathering of samples would be done by
remote control from the diving bell, depriving Lee of any opportunity to
dive.
As
Lee looked around the Control Room, he realized he wasn’t the only one who was
bored. The five days it had taken to
reach the first of the core sampling sites had passed mundanely. Ah well, he thought, it could be worse and be
exciting in a not good way. So Lee
settled for the excitement of another cup of coffee, his sixth of the
morning. The caffeine pulsing through
him was evident in Lee’s incessant drumming of his fingers on the chart table
during which he inadvertently flipped up a pencil, tried to catch it, and ended
up knocking his coffee cup off the table.
Maybe
it was one too many cups, Lee thought as he pitched back off the stool to avoid
the hot liquid arcing towards his crotch.
He did not escape entirely. “Ooh!”
he said with mild annoyance and embarrassment.
Chip
Morton, his XO and friend, laughed at him.
Then he faked a yawn. “Hurry back
so you don’t miss anything, skipper.”
Captain’s
Cabin, 0708 hours
In
his quarters, Lee found Ryder hanging freshly pressed shirts in his
locker. “Got any scorched pants for me,
sailor?”
Ryder
jumped nervously. Lee thought he heard a
groaning sound.
“Sorry,
sir, you surprised me.”
“Had
a little accident,” he said pointing to his stained pants. He sat down to remove his shoes. “Are you feeling all right, Ryder?”
“Yes,
sir,” Ryder said as he finished turning toward the captain. A slight grimace undercut his assertion.
“You’re
hurt.”
“It’s
nothing serious.”
“Did
the doctor say that?”
“It’s
just a stomach ache.”
“If
it gets worse, go see Dr. Jamison, and if you’ve got any viral symptoms to go
with it, go now. That stuff spreads like
wild fire on a sub.”
“I’m
sure it’s not viral, sir.” Ryder moved
gingerly toward the door.
“Hold
up, sailor. I want to know what
happened.”
“Nothing
happened, sir.”
“You
have a lower rib injury. I’ve had enough
to know one when I see one.”
“I’m
embarrassed, sir. I’ve got a bit of a
clumsy gene.”
“I
know that one. The chart table corner
and I are mortal enemies. Let’s take you
down to see the doc just to be certain it’s nothing major.”
“I
can go myself, sir.” Ryder turned away
to face the door while the captain changed his pants.
“I’m
sure that as a theoretical matter you could go yourself, but since you didn’t,
and I’ve got nothing better to do right now, I’ll take you to make certain you
go.” Lee picked up the intercom handset. “Mr. Morton, I’ll be in sick bay if you need
me.”
Control
Room, 0715 hours
“Um,
sure, captain,” Morton replied.
Shoulders shrugged and heads turned.
The captain voluntarily going to sick bay was enormous news on its own. Announcing it openly like that on the
intercom was unheard of. “Coffee must
have been mighty hot to burn through his pants,” Chip joked. “Of course, it was in the delicate
region.” He immediately regretted the
cheap joke and the subsequent laughter when he saw the admiral approach. “Knock it off, you knuckleheads. Brass approaching.”
“Glad
to see everyone in such a relaxed state for a change, Mr. Morton. Where’s the captain?”
“Had
a little coffee spill. You want me to
call him?”
“No,
I’m just surprised not to see him here wringing his hands in boredom. How are the rest of you holding up?”
“Fine,
sir.”
“What’s
the latest weather report?”
“Fine,
sir.”
“Good. We’ll continue on as planned then. Dr. Livsey, this way, if you please.” The admiral and his guest headed to the
observation deck.
* * * * *
Sick
Bay, 0720 hours
“Hi
Doc.”
“What
brings you here of your own volition, captain?”
“Ryder
hurt his ribs. Seems he suffers from
Crane Syndrome.”
Ryder
looked puzzled.
“Crane
Syndrome is when the captain of a certain submarine denies he is hurt until he
passes out or is carried against his will to sick bay,” Dr. Jamison explained.
Ryder
smiled as he got it.
“Shirt
off,” Doc said.
Ryder
was slow, even reluctant in complying, although he did. Lee whispered something to the doctor and
left.
“Want
to tell me what happened?”
“Just
bumped myself. It’s embarrassing.”
“Happens
on a sub from time to time,” Doc Jamison said as he prodded the bruised area,
“although usually there’s turbulence of some sort when it happens.”
“I’m
a bit clumsy and I’m new to submarines.”
“Right. Well, I think you’ll live. Nothing’s broken or cracked. Just a deep bruise. Ice would have helped reduce the
bruising. Next time, just come and see
me. Self diagnosis is not permitted on board
the Seaview.”
“Except
by the captain?”
“We
do our best to discourage that. Speaking
of which, after you leave here, the captain asked you to report back to his
quarters.”
“Oh.”
* * * *
Captain’s
Cabin, 0745 hours
“Come
in.”
“Dr.
Jamison said to report back to you, sir.”
“Yes,
Ryder. What did the doc say?”
“It’s
just a deep bruise.”
“And?”
“He
told me not to self diagnose in the future.”
“Did
you tell him how you got hurt?”
“Same
thing I told you, sir.”
“Ryder,
you’d have no reason to know this. I was
intercollegiate middleweight boxing champ at Annapolis. I know what a bruise from a punch looks
like. How about you tell me how it
actually happened?”
“I’d
rather not, sir.”
“Why?”
Ryder
fidgeted.
“I
can only think of two reasons. The first
is because you’re protecting someone and the second is because you think you
deserved it. I’m having difficulty
imagining the latter.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“So
the question is whom you are protecting, someone else or yourself from
potential retribution if you speak?”
Ryder
stood silent, withering slightly under the captain’s questioning.
“Don’t
make me pull it out of you, man. Look,
we have the occasional disagreement among the crew, but we don’t tolerate
violence. So, for the last time, who hit
you?”
“Rogers.”
“Cookie’s
assistant?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Where
did this happen?”
“In
our quarters.”
“You’re
bunking with him?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“That
two man bunk jammed in by the bulkhead?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“What
happened?”
“He
just doesn’t like me.”
“Are
you saying he struck out at you, never saying a word?”
Ryder’s
head looked at the floor.
“I
could ask him these questions if you prefer.”
“He
accused me of . . . looking at him.”
“Rogers? A blind man wouldn’t want to look at him.”
“I
didn’t do anything wrong, sir.”
“I
believe you. I’ll follow up on this.”
“I
don’t want to make trouble, sir.”
“It
isn’t you making it. I won’t tolerate
that kind of behavior from my crew.”
Ryder
looked up sheepishly. “Thank you, sir.”
“Go
get some rest now.”
*
* * * *
Control
Room, 0800 hours
“Doc
released you quickly,” Chip joked.
“Yes,
and I shall live to play the violin another day.”
“But
you don’t play the violin?”
“Dull
duty makes for a dull exec,” Lee laughed.
“Kowalski, come with me.”
“Yes,
sir,” he snapped to with enthusiasm.
“Anxious
for a break are we?
“Most
boring run we’ve had in months, skipper.”
“Mr.
Morton, give the conn over to Mr. O’Brien.
Go get some exercise or something, otherwise you’ll never get to
sleep. Trust me.”
“Great
idea. It’s all yours, Mr. O’Brien.”
The
captain motioned for Kowalski to follow him.
Captain’s
Cabin, 0810
“Ski,
Are there any vacant bunks on board?”
“No,
sir, excepting one of the guest quarters, the brig and sick bay.”
“Are
there any bunk situations that you think would be better changed?”
“I’m
getting tired of Patterson’s snoring.”
“I’m
serious.”
“So
am I.”
“I’ve
got a situation that I don’t want to get out of hand. I either need to find someone to swap bunks
or try something else.”
“Can
you tell me more, skipper?”
“Rogers
and our intern Ryder.”
“Oh.”
“You’re
aware of an issue?”
“Rogers
is a blowhard, sir. Everyone knows
that.”
“Think
anyone would volunteer to bunk with him?”
“Honestly? No, sir.
There’s a reason that bunk was the last empty. Most guys would rather hot bunk than share
with him.”
“I
see. Okay. Would you do me a favor and keep an eye out
for Ryder?”
“Sir?”
“Make
sure that he’s treated appropriately.
Help him fit in.”
“I’ll
do my best, sir.”
Lee
thought he heard doubt in Kowalski’s response.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Kowalski?”
“No,
sir.”
“Good. Help Ryder move his belongings to the guest
quarters.”
“Yes,
sir,” Kowalski said with a ponderous look.
“Do
you disagree?”
“I’m,
well, I’m just not sure.”
“Why?”
“I
suppose since he is a college graduate and an intern, it might be all right
with the men.”
“Are
you suggesting that I bunk him with a junior officer instead?”
“There’s
nothing available there either, sir.”
“Do
you think that my having a talk with Rogers would make any difference to the
situation?”
“No,
sir.”
“Then
please do as I asked. Dismissed.”
Control
Room, 1125 hours
Captain
Crane walked the boat for a while before returning to the Control Room to
relieve Mr. O’Brien. A long, dull
afternoon passed interminably. Lee was
so bored that he forgot if he’d eaten lunch (he hadn’t). His obsessive course plotting had changed
into doodling. He’d noticed that he’d
drawn a fairly impressive sketch of the Control Room when he next looked up, at
1915 hours. In his head, he heard
Whitman. “The end is near, the bells I
hear . . ..” He began to hope Chip
would show up early. Then he realized
that all day he’d avoided a task. He
called the galley.
“Cookie,
would you have Rogers bring me a dinner tray in my cabin at 2010 hours? Yes, I want Rogers specifically. Thanks.”
Mr.
Morton returned to the control room at 2000 hours sharp.
“The
conn, my dear friend, is yours. There is
nothing to report except reports of nothing.
Until morning, then, I bid you good evening.”
*
* * *
Captain’s
Cabin, 2014 hours
Rogers
arrived at the captain’s cabin a few minutes late.
“Come
in,” the captain said with a hint of irritation in his voice at Rogers’
lateness.
“Your
dinner, sir.”
Rogers
was, as usual, a sight: messy, unkempt,
overweight. Not Lee’s ideal sailor. Lee had to remind himself that those
characteristics didn’t make Rogers a bad man.
“Sit
down, Rogers.”
“Sir?”
“You
heard me. Sit down.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Ryder
was in sick bay this morning.”
“What’s
that got to do with me, sir?”
“Well,
I’m guessing that if I took an imprint of your fist and compared it to the bruise
on his gut, it’d be a match.”
“That
little pansy didn’t say I hit him, did he?”
“Ryder
did not volunteer any such information.
Indeed, he did his best to conceal it.
However, the captain of this boat is not a fool, Rogers. I allow the men of this boat many liberties,
but I will not tolerate violence between crew members. Understood?”
Rogers’
face fumed but he held his tongue.
“Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Yes,
what?”
“Yes,
captain,” he said, rising to leave.
“Not
yet, Rogers. I expect you to treat Ryder
with nothing less than dignity and respect as long as he is on board this
ship. You will comply.”
“I’ll
try, captain.”
“No,
Rogers. You will simply do as I say or
you will not be welcome to remain aboard the Seaview.”
“If
this were the Navy . . .”
“Stop
right there, Rogers. Don’t say another
word. Heed my warning and heed it
well.”
Rogers
turned toward the door.
“I
have not dismissed you yet. I also
wanted to inform you that I’ve moved Ryder out of your cabin, in hopes that
will ease the situation some. Now you
are dismissed.”
Rogers
left without further word, but a definite “harumphing” noise could be heard
from the corridor.
Crane
played with his food, his appetite minimal.
Then he got up to begin his evening tour of the boat, a little earlier
than usual.
Control
Room, 2055 hours
“Didn’t
expect to see you back, Lee,” Morton said.
“What’s on your mind? You look
kind of lost.”
“Just
bored, to be honest. That and concern
about how I’ve handled a little crew dust up.”
“Anything
that I need to know about?”
“No,
I think I have it managed for the time being.
If not, you’ll hear soon enough.
Keep me posted if you do.” In
Lee’s experience, the XO was far more likely to hear crew scuttlebutt than the
captain. “Oh yes, have Sparks obtain
whatever seismic data is available from the Institute that might be relevant to
our heading.”
“Concerned
about something?”
“Or
just looking for something to be concerned about. See you in the morning.”
Captain’s
Cabin - 2100 hours
Lee
returned to just outside his cabin door to begin his customary evening
walk. He chided himself as he realized
what he’d done. “Too much routine is
getting to you,” he laughed at himself.
Then an idea entered his head. He
went into his cabin and retrieved a book.
He stopped by the guest quarters.
“Yes,
who is it?”
“Captain
Crane.”
“Yes,
sir. Come in, sir.”
“At
ease, Ryder.”
“Is
everything all right, sir? I’m not late,
am I?”
“Relax. You’re fine.
I was about to do an early evening tour and it occurred to me that I had
a book you might enjoy.”
“Why
thank you, sir.”
“It’s
only a loaner, mind you.”
“Did
you draw these?”
“Every
one of them. Some of these probably
shouldn’t see the light of day, but if you don’t tell the Navy, I won’t
either.”
“You
can really draw.”
“I’m
a decent sketcher, but I wouldn’t claim to draw well.”
“Was
the Nautilus really as cramped as she looks?”
“I
can’t tell you the number of bumps on the head and the bruises on my side I
took on her. Seaview is a luxury liner
comparatively speaking.”
“I
thought so. I’ve only been on some old
decommissioned subs, but I’ve never understood how anyone could stay on them
for as long as they did.”
“Not
for the claustrophobic, that’s for sure.
Speaking of which, do you feel more comfortable now?”
“About
that, sir . . . . ” Ryder stopped in hesitation.
“Yes,
speak freely.”
“I
mean, the quarters are great and all, and getting away from Rogers is even
better.”
“But?”
“I’m
concerned that it will look strange to the crew, make it harder for me to fit
in.”
“I
understand, but there was nothing else available. I just didn’t feel right leaving you in with
Rogers. So for now, let’s see how this
works out, all right?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Care
to join me on my evening tour?”
“The
crew calls it your evening shakedown.”
Lee
laughed. “All the better. In fact, now I insist you come along.”
That
night’s tour lasted an hour and a half again.
Lee had a ten minute discussion with Foster in the Circuitry Room about
the general cluttered state of the area during an upgrading process. Otherwise, it was mostly a breezy walkthrough
with Lee pointing out differences between the Seaview and subs he’d served on
previously. Ryder took in every word
attentively. The tour ended at the
captain’s cabin.
“I’m
in for a quick shower. You can just
leave my things out for me.”
“Yes,
sir. Will you want your cocoa tonight?”
“I
think so. Maybe a cookie or two to go
with it. Hadn’t much appetite earlier
today.”
“I’ll
bring them right away.”
“Twenty
minutes will be fine.”
The
captain was sitting in his pajamas at his desk when Ryder returned.
“Sit,
Ryder. You best eat one of those
cookies, otherwise you’ll have to return them to Cookie and he won’t like it.”
“Yes,
sir. Thank you, sir.”
Something
occurred to Lee very suddenly. He wrote
a note. “Take this to Commander Morton,
if you would.”
“Yes,
sir. Shall I come back for the dishes
tonight?”
“Please. No need to knock. Just come in and get them.”
Twenty
minutes later, Ryder emerged from the captain’s cabin with the captain’s
clothes over his arm covering the plate and cup below.
“Goodnight
Ryder,” the captain called after him. “I
enjoyed tonight,” he called out sleepily.
Anderson
passed Ryder in the hallway at that very moment.
* * * *
Captain’s
Cabin, 0600 hours
Lee
Crane was dressed and sitting at his desk when Ryder arrived with his breakfast
and the night reports. “Good morning.”
“Good
morning, captain. Will you be needing
anything else?”
“Not
unless you can do something to make this mission more interesting.”
“My
mother always warned be careful what you wish for, sir.”
“Smart
woman. Dismissed.”
* * * *
Control
Room, 0645 hours
“Everything’s
running smoothly mission wise, Lee,” Morton reported.
“Swell. Any word from the admiral?”
“No. Not much of interest, in the control room at
least.”
Lee
caught the odd intonation in Chip’s statement.
“Up top?”
Chip
followed Lee upstairs to the periscope housing room.
“What’s
of interest elsewhere?”
“I’m
aware of the Rogers and Ryder situation.
May I ask you what the hell you were thinking?”
“Excuse
me?”
“Putting
Ryder in the guest quarters.”
“Nothing
else was available. Kowalski indicated
that no one would take a switch into Rogers without serious complaint. Ryder’s not really one of the crew
anyway. He’d be officer material if he
was interested.”
“Lee,
I think it was a mistake.”
“Then
what the hell should I have done? Leave
the poor kid there to get whaled on by Rogers?”
“No.”
“What
would you have done?”
“Tried
to make them work it out.”
“That
wasn’t going to happen based on Kowalski’s experience with Rogers.”
“Then
find a volunteer to switch bunks temporarily or ask Kowalski to do it. Have the kid hot bunk with someone if
necessary. Instead, you redshirted the
kid.”
Lee
pondered. “I guess I have. I’m not sure I can undo it now. What do you think?”
“Probably
not.”
“Shit.”
“The
best intentions often go awry.”
“That
helps a lot.”
“I’ll
try to keep an eye on things at night.”
“I’d
appreciate it.”
“Lee,
I know . . .” Chip started then stopped.
“Never mind.”
“I
. . . ,” Lee started and then stopped.
Instead, the old friends nodded at each other. Words weren’t really necessary. Lee headed back to the Control Room while
Chip went off duty.
Thirty
minutes later, Lee left the Control Room for “a few moments” to use the
head. He reemerged in another forty
minutes, pale and sweaty.
“You
okay, sir?” Kowalski inquired.
“Don’t
tell Cookie, but I don’t think breakfast agreed with me. Either that or too much coffee.”
“Can
I bring you something to drink?”
“Yeah,
better make it plain water, though.
Thanks.”
Lee
recovered quickly. The rest of the
morning passed uneventfully except for Lee visiting the head a few more times
and the receipt of an “iffy” seismological report for the area where they
headed, one notorious for seismic activity.
Lee spent the time before lunch plotting course alternatives.
Admiral
Nelson poked his head in from the observation deck. “Join us for lunch in the wardroom, Lee?”
“Sure,
sir.”
As
Admiral Nelson and Dr. Livsey talk and ate, Lee picked at his food eating less
than usual. Dr. Livsey discussed the
samples they were collecting and the possible results of testing with great
enthusiasm.
“Is
everything clear for our next destination, Lee?”
“We’re
keeping an eye on the weather conditions.”
“What
difference could the weather possibly make to us at this depth?” Dr. Livsey
asked.
“Weather
in this case includes seismic activity.
You can’t collect core samples during an underwater earthquake or
volcano.”
“We
can ride one out nearby, however,” Admiral Nelson inserted.
“That’s
true, depending on our position and the severity of the activity. But if it’s a bad one or a series, we may
need to divert.
“Divert? Whatever for?” Dr. Livsey asked.
“For
repair of undersea military installations or even rescue work.”
“I
don’t understand.”
“If the seismic activity is severe, tsunamis
are possible. As to repair work,
undersea cables could need to be fixed or re-secured,” the admiral
qualified. “However, none of that’s
likely to happen, Dr. Livsey. Captain
Crane is just a worrywart.”
“I
believe that’s in my job description, admiral.
I’ll keep on things and let you know, if I may be excused now.”
“Sure,
Lee. No worries, Doctor,” the admiral
reassured.
* * *
The
rest of the afternoon was wait and watch.
Seismic activity was increasing exponentially. So much for boredom, Lee thought. He would have settled for seeing some
interesting new species of fish.
“Take
her to half speed, Mr. O’Brien,” Lee ordered before Chip came on duty at
1600.
“Good
afternoon, Mr. Morton.”
“You
too, captain. Anything new and exciting
happening?”
“Seismic
activity toward our destination is increasing steadily. Take it slow and keep a close eye on reports
from the Institute. Advise me of any
sudden changes.”
“Before
or after I swing a hard U-turn?”
“Either,
as long as you do it.”
“Is
the admiral aware of the possibility?”
“Just
the generalities. I’ll touch base with
him soon, unless you’d rather do it,” Lee arched.
“Hmmm. Tell you what, I’ll take this one for the
team, on the condition that you get the next one. You look a little worn out.”
“Thanks,
buddy.”
“You
feeling okay?”
“I’m
fine.”
“Sure
you are.” Chip patted his stomach
knowingly.
“Some
rat is going to pay for telling you about this morning. I’ll check back in with you later.”
“I
know. You want dinner sent to your
quarters?”
“Maybe
just some soup and toast.”
“I’ll
arrange for it. Go get some rest.”
“Thank
you, mother.”
“She’d
thank me more sincerely.”
* * * *
Captain’s
Cabin, 1800 hours
Kowalski
brought the captain’s dinner.
“Thanks,
Ski. Listen . . . it’s now clear to me
that I may not have dealt with the Rogers and Ryder situation in the best
way. Can I count on you to keep tensions
diffused if need be?”
“Me? I’m usually the hothead.”
“Not
so much anymore. When I first came
aboard, yes.”
“Good
memory, sir.” Kowalski instinctively
rubbed his jaw where the skipper had connected with a punch on their first
meeting.
“I
also think you are generally a good judge of character.”
“Thank
you, skipper.”
“Is
there anything more going on that I need to know?”
“I
don’t think so, no, sir.”
Crane
cocked his head as if ready to ask a further question, then stopped
himself. “I’ll trust you to let me know
if there is then.”
* * *
Control
Room, 2130 hours
Lee
Crane returned to the Control Room for one more seismological update.
“Here
you go, Lee. Three hundred leagues from
here, straight ahead, there’s a steady rumble.
Not a single expert is willing to say it will amount to anything
significant, but several warn that it could.”
“I
guess we stay the course until morning.
Keep her under half speed. Don’t
hesitate to wake me.”
Lee
left to perform his “evening shakedown” again mindlessly backtracking to his
cabin to start the tour. As he had the
prior night, Lee scoffed at his adherence to blind ritual and vowed to stop
doing it. As he passed the guest cabin,
he checked on Ryder. After he’d put the
kid in the awkward position, he felt obliged to keep an eye on him. He hoped the crew would mind their manners if
they knew the captain was keeping a close watch.
Ryder
was sitting at the small desk drawing.
“What
are you up to?”
“Drawing
the Seaview.”
“That’s
not exactly how the missile room looks.
How long were you there?”
“Five
minutes.”
“Impressive
for five minutes. Come on, we’ll go take
another look. Bring your sketchpad if
you like.”
“Isn’t
the Seaview’s design classified?”
“Not
the parts you’re likely to sketch.”
They
spent ten minutes in the missile room.
Ryder’s attention to detail matched the captain’s.
“Why
is the ductwork so large on the Seaview?
I mean, I know how important air exchange is on a sub, but this ductwork
is unusually large.”
“I
can’t say the admiral knew how often it would be needed when she was designed,
but the ability to access compartments through the ductwork has been a bit of a
theme in her operation.”
“How
so?”
“On
occasion, we have to bypass locked compartments when the occasional mad
scientist or traitor has run amok on the ship.
More typically, we’ve used the ducts to get into flooding compartments
from up high before the water level is critical.”
“It
seems to me that the ductwork would fail if the water got that high and entered
the air system.”
“That’s
why the ductwork is all high density PVC with numerous internal cut offs.”
“If
a compartment gets flooded, does the ductwork cut off automatically?”
“Yes,
but it can be manually unsealed if the sensors don’t detect significant water
pressure against the seal.”
“Is
the system really strong enough to hold back flood water?”
“I
would say that the system could stand improvement and a few more
redundancies. On more than one occasion,
we have had to do some emergency welding to protect flooding from the
ductwork.”
“I
imagine even though they are larger than normal, it’s still tight quarters up
there?”
“It’s
not for the claustrophobic and it helps to be thin. Hence yours truly often seems to get the
job. Come on, let’s finish up rounds
now. Don’t tell anyone, but Cookie’s
food didn’t sit so well with me today.”
They
finished their walk deeply engaged in conversation about Seaview’s design,
interrupted by only polite nods or greetings by the captain to the evening
crew. The exception was at the Circuitry
Room, which was messier than the night before.
“Foster, I thought I told you to get this area
cleaned up. We’d have a devil of a time
getting to the main panels quickly if we needed to. Get Patterson in here to help if you can’t do
it yourself. I want it done by morning.”
“Yes,
sir.”
Lee
shook his head and moved forward. They
went up a deck and came to a stop at the guest quarters.
“Ryder,
come to my quarters in two hours or so for turn down. I’ve got a little follow up research to do on
underwater volcanoes before I retire.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Maybe
you should stop by the galley first for yourself. You could stand to have a little more meat on
those bones.” The captain pinched
Ryder’s arm.
“Not
the first time I’ve heard that, sir.”
“Me
either, Ryder. We have a lot in
common. See you later,” Lee said. “Evening, Anderson,” the captain added as the
crewman passed them in the hall.
* * * * *
Captain’s
Cabin, 2330 hours
The
captain was nodding at his desk over an underwater seismology textbook when
Ryder returned for turn down with the captain’s evening cocoa. Ryder laid out the captain’s pajamas on the
bed. He gently touched the captain’s
shoulder. Lee startled.
“Oh,
caught me cat napping.”
“Time
for the real thing now, sir.”
“I
suppose so.” Lee took an appreciative
sip of the hot cocoa.
“Shall
I come back for your laundry and the cup later, sir?”
“Yes,
in a half hour, I’d say. I do need to
slug through this last chapter. I’ve
gotten really rusty on my seismology.”
“I
don’t think I know enough about underwater seismology to get rusty, sir. At school I got the impression that
underwater earthquakes presented no great danger to subs and not even that much
to topside vessels, at least in the middle of the ocean.”
“True,
but as we’re collecting core samples from the ocean floor, that could be a
problem for us if we’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. Moreover, this is potential volcanic
activity, which could be a different scenario.
There’s very little research on that as to subs and I’m not sure that I
want Seaview to be the main source of future research.”
“I
see.”
“Here. Why don’t you take a look at this for a few
minutes and see if you can decipher it?
I’ll shower and change now, lest I fall asleep in my uniform again.”
“Um,
yes, sir.”
Ryder
kept his head down in the book as Captain Crane undressed, showered and donned
his pajamas.
“Learn
anything interesting?” Lee asked when he emerged.
“That
in deep enough water, there would be little danger from molten flow in terms of
hull temperature, but you could find yourself with damage from lava if you
didn’t move out of the way quickly enough.”
“Certainly
wouldn’t be good for sensors, instruments and waste disposal systems.”
They
ended up talking for another hour about design and natural hazards after
that. At 0130 hours, Ryder emerged
laundry in hand over the nightly cup and saucer.
*
* * *
Captain’s
Quarters 0600 hours
Lee
Crane slept heavily that night. He was
still in his pajamas when Ryder delivered his breakfast and laundry at 0600
hours.
“Morning,
Ryder. Should have hit the sack earlier
last night,” Lee yawned. “Smells
good. Something different today?”
“An
omelet full of vegetables. I suggested
to Cookie that you might like more protein in the morning.”
“How’d
you know?”
“Just
a guess based on your body type.”
“Similar
to yours.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“I’ll
eat before I change. Cold eggs are not
my favorite.”
“Right,
sir. Anything else I can do for you this
morning?”
“The
night reports?”
“Oh,
right, sorry sir. I wanted breakfast to
be warm. I’ll go get those for you now.”
“No,
no need to do that,” Chip Morton said from just outside the cracked door. “I’ve got them.”
“Morning,
Chip.”
“Morning,
Lee.”
Chip
gave Lee a look.
“You
can get this stuff later, Ryder, after I go on duty.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Dismissed,”
Lee said from habit although Ryder hadn’t waited for it before leaving and
shutting the door.
Chip
glared at Lee.
“Yes,
Chip. You have something you want to say
to me?”
Chip
got up and made sure the door was fully closed.
“Lee,
I was thinking that it might be best to put Ryder on a daytime detail, maybe
working for the admiral and Dr. Livsey.”
“Why? I have no complaints about his service and
he’s a delight to talk to about the ship.
Reminds me of myself when I first went on a sub, eager to swallow up
every detail I could.”
“Because
of appearances, Lee.”
“What
appearances?”
“You
asked me to keep you apprised of scuttlebutt.
I’m trying to do that.”
“Spit
it out then.”
“It’s
not sitting well with the crew, how you’ve singled Ryder out for special
treatment.”
“You
mean the guest quarter thing? Surely
everyone understands that by now.”
“It’s
more than that, Lee. You’re in and out
of the guest quarters, taking him on nightly tours, he’s seen coming out of
your cabin after midnight . . .”
“Excuse
me? Just what are we getting at here?”
“Me,
nothing. Look Lee, I know you. I understand why you’ve taken this boy under
your wing, but the crew is gossiping.”
“That’s
their issue, not mine.”
Chip
stared at Lee, saying nothing.
“They
can’t possibly think that . . . no, it’s ridiculous. I’ve never behaved inappropriately on the ship.”
“Except
when possessed by aliens or under mind control,” Chip snickered.
“There’s
nothing amusing about this, Chip.”
“No,
sir. I would have to agree,” he
continued to snicker.
“I
just don’t know, Chip. I’ll have to
think it over. I don’t want to kowtow to
the innuendo of ignoramuses.”
“On
the good news front, at least the mission promises to provide more of a
diversion soon. Look at the latest
seismic readings.”
“Oh. Does the admiral know yet?”
“No,
it’s your turn. Dr. Livsey is beginning
to get on my nerves.”
“Had
enough chemistry of sediment lectures already?”
“I’m
sure it’s fascinating stuff.”
“To
someone.” Lee began to change into a
clean uniform. “What are your
recommendations for our course?”
“I
think we should stay clear of the Ring of Fire until it either calms down or
explodes.”
“Duly
noted and agreed,” Lee said as he pulled on his pants. “Let’s just hope that the admiral sees it our
way for a change.”
“Good
luck with that.”
“You’re
right. He’ll probably want to sail right
into the epicenter to take readings,” Lee laughed as he shook his head.
Ship’s
Mess, 0630 hours
“Shut
the hell up,” Kowalski said to two crewmen in the mess.
“Make
me,” one said.
“Don’t
tempt me,” Kowalski retorted. He
breathed deeply to calm himself.
“Another reprimand in your file will cost you a week’s pay.”
“This
is a free country, Kowalski, and I’m not in the Navy anymore.”
“You
know the rules.”
“If
it was the Navy, we wouldn’t have to put up with this shit. They’d never allow a fucking homo on a sub,
let alone put one in charge.”
“What
kind of moron are you, Anderson?”
“Don’t
tell me that you’re defending pretty boy Crane even now?”
“The
captain isn’t that way.”
“He’s
how old and unmarried, a looker like him?”
“He’s
married to the Seaview, that’s all. I
don’t want to hear another word about it, from either of you. I’ll write up both of you if I hear another
whisper.”
“I’m
getting off this butt fucking boat as soon as we hit the dock,” Anderson said.
“Be
my guest.”
“Me
too. At least I won’t have to worry
about them types checking me out all the time,” Foster added.
“Foster,
you’d be lucky if my grandmother bothered to check you out,” Kowalski jibed.
“Yeah,
at least I’m not kissing a fag’s ass all the time like you are.”
“That’s
it. You’re going on report.”
“You’ll
regret it, I promise you. You and the
whole lot of them,” Foster said.
Kowalski
shook his head. “You want a write up
too, Anderson?”
“No,
but that don’t mean I like it either.”
He stalked off.
Kowalski
was left with a dozen other men in the room who stared at him silently. “Same goes for the rest of you. Mind your own business, do your jobs and keep
your traps shut.” He slammed out of the
mess.
* * * *
An
hour later, when Kowalski was doing rounds of the boat for the captain, Chief
Sharkey pulled him aside.
“Heard
about what happened at the mess this morning, Ski. What do you make of it?”
“There’s
nothing to make anything of. Rogers was
being an asshole to this young college boy who’s interning and the captain
moved him to the guest quarters. The
rest of it is just stupid gossip.”
“So
you don’t think there’s any possibility that . . . you know?”
“Chief,
you’ve been on this boat long enough to know that’s nonsense.”
“Look
Ski, you know I think the world of the captain, and he’s saved our lives a
dozen times over, but you gotta admit that it’s possible.”
“It
isn’t, I tell you.”
“What
if it is?”
“Then
I don’t want to know. Do you?”
“No,
I suppose not.”
“Then
clam up and help make sure the crew does too.”
* * * * *
Observation
Deck, 1000 hrs.
Captain
Crane stood with the admiral and Dr. Livsey, gazing out the amazing observation
window.
“Mr.
Morton and I both agree, admiral. We
should steer clear of the site until we see whether the seismic activity
subsides.” Lee felt strangely giddy. His foot tapped happily on the floor.
“Dr.
Livsey, maybe we could move the next sample site a bit,” the admiral suggested.
“Like
a few hundred leagues,” Captain Crane said as he spread his arms far apart and
twirled.
“Captain
Crane, what is the matter with you?”
“Nothing
admiral, nothing at all.” He spun
again. “In fact, I haven’t felt this
good in weeks.”
“He’s
drunk!” Dr. Livsey said.
“No,
I’m not. I’m just . . . floating . . . see . . . through a bed of seaweed. Look at that wild gar. Amazing.
The colors . . . so bright . . . a rainbow. Somewhere over the rainbow,” Lee broke out in
song.
The
admiral pulled down the intercom handset.
“Mr. Morton, please get Dr. Jamison and yourself in here on the double.”
“Yes,
admiral.” Chip relayed the order to
Sparks and immediately entered the observation deck.
Lee
Crane was licking the giant window.
“Mr.
Morton, something is wrong with the captain, seriously wrong.”
“I
can see that, admiral.”
“Has
he been drinking on the job?”
“Lee? Never.
You know he rarely drinks and never on duty. He was fine half an hour ago.”
“Well,
he obviously isn’t fine now.”
Dr.
Jamison came into the observation nose. “What . . . what’s he doing?”
“Licking
the window. Some tight ship you run,
admiral,” Dr. Livsey carped.
“Captain,
it’s Dr. Jamison. What’s going on?”
“Ridin’
on a moonbeam with my baby tonight,” Lee twirled again, before he got dizzy and
fell. He rolled on to his back and began
to draw circles in the air.
“Could
he be drunk?” Dr. Jamison asked.
“No. He was fine a few minutes ago when he was in
the control room, I swear,” Chip Morton vouched.
“Any
other possibilities then, Doc?” Admiral Nelson asked.
“I’d
have to venture he’s under the influence of a drug of some kind.”
“Lee
is reluctant to pop an aspirin,” Chip Morton said.
“I
didn’t say how it happened. Obviously
that may be a matter for inquiry. How
should we take him out of here?”
“Maybe
you could sedate him?” the admiral asked.
“Not
without understanding what’s in his system.”
“Then
it’s either to sick bay or up top and through to my quarters. What do you think, Mr. Morton?”
“I
think the men have heard enough already that a little more won’t matter.”
“Come
on Lee, it’s off to sick bay then,” Admiral Nelson said as he reached for one
of Lee’s arms.
“No,”
Lee pulled away. “I want to be free,
free!” He broke for the staircase. He
was half way up when he reached for a rung that only he could see instead of a
real one. He fell to the floor face
forward, nearly spread eagled. The
control room crew gathered ready to give a hand.
“Stay
back, everyone,” Dr. Jamison instructed.
“Captain, are you hurt anywhere?”
“I
feel good, duh nuh nuh, I feel fine, so good, duh, duh, duh.”
“Get
up and show me how good you feel then,” Doc said.
Lee
rolled onto his back. “Wow, that’s
wild.”
“Come
on, captain, get up for me.”
“Can’t. Spinning wheel in my head, wheeeeee.”
“We’re
going to either have to wait this out or haul him out of here,” Doc said.
“We
better get some muscle in here for that.
Call Kowalski,” Morton ordered Sparks.
“Lee,
it’s Chip. Are you okay?”
“Never
better, my man, never better.”
“You
do know that you’re acting a little bit strange.”
“Strangers
in the night, exchanging glances, wondring in the night, what were the chances,
la la la la la.”
“Jesus,
Lee, do you have to sing every response?”
“Sing,
sing a song, sing out loud . . .”
“Maybe
we should gag him,” Chip suggested, “or record him for future embarrassment?”
“Kowalski,
help Morton get the captain to sick bay on the double,” Dr. Jamison
ordered. “Be careful. He could be
hurt. He took a fall.”
“Falling
in love again . . .” Lee began until Morton pulled him up by the arm. “Oopsy,
that’s not so good,” he announced.
“Damn,
looks like his shoulder is bulging.”
“I
have an idea. Skipper, how’d you like to
ride in my beautiful balloon?” Kowalski asked.
“Mr. Morton, let’s make a chair for him.”
“Good
idea,” the Doc said, pushing Lee back gently into their carry hold as they got
behind and under him.
“I’ll
check in soon, Doc,” Admiral Nelson said.
“Sparks, tell Ryder that I want to see him in the captain’s cabin
immediately. My apologies, Dr.
Livsey. I need to go investigate this
matter.”
“I
would say so, admiral. Conduct
unbecoming an officer if ever I saw it.”
* * * *
Lee
continued singing at the top of his lungs all the way to Sick Bay.
“Sit
him up on the table, men. Better stay
nearby so he doesn’t fall.
“Any
clue what’s wrong with the skipper, Doc?” Kowalski asked.
“In
the modern vernacular, Kowalski, I would say he’s tripping.”
“He’s
high?”
“As
a kite. Hallucinating too, I think.”
“The
skipper would never take anything like that.
How could it have happened?”
“I’m
going to try to figure out what he’s ingested.
The how is up to you all to figure.”
“Kowalski,
if you think you’ve got this, I’d like to follow up on some things with the
admiral,” Chip said.
“I
can handle him.”
“Hold
up a minute, Mr. Morton. The captain’s
shoulder is slightly dislocated. I’d
like to have an extra body here when I pop it back in.” The Doc positioned Kowalski behind the
captain, kept Morton to the right side and begin his manipulation.
“Aw
man, red, bright red, fire. Fire? Fire?
All hands on deck. Fire in the . . . the . . . where are we? Never mind.
Fire’s out.”
The
Doc nodded to Chip that he could leave.
“Kowalski,” he whispered, “I’m going to take a blood sample. I think it’d be best to keep him distracted
if you don’t mind.”
Ski
nodded. “Hey captain, what do you see
here?” he asked, pointing to the ceiling.
“I
see skies of blue and clouds of white, the bright blessed day, the sacred
darkness of night, and I think to myself, I think to myself . . . think, can’t
think. Hey, no man. Stop.
Why do you wanna hurt me?” Lee
pulled off the table as Doc was drawing his blood sample. Lee moved to the opposite corner of the
room. He sank down to the floor and
curled up in a ball.
“No
one wants to hurt you, captain,” Doc said.
“We just want to help you.”
“I’m
fine.”
“Crane
Syndrome even now,” Doc shook his head.
“Yes, captain, you’re fine. Maybe
a little too fine. Just relax. Stay there if you want.”
“I
want the colors to come back. There are
no colors here.”
“Sure
there are, skipper,” Kowalski humored. “Look up there. See.”
“Puppets
are there. Where’s my gun? Got to stop those puppets. They’re taking over Seaview.”
“No,
skipper, the puppets are gone. You got
rid of them.”
“There,
it’s Kruger. He wants me again. I have to get out of here.” Lee broke for the door. Kowalski beat him to it.
“Settle
down, skipper. Kruger’s gone,
forever. Everything on Seaview is
calm. Blue skies. Come on, lie down and look.”
The
skipper responded to Kowalski’s voice and got on the exam table. “Blue skies, smiling at me, blue skies da da
da da . . . Hey, no fair, I can’t dance now.”
“You
can dance later, captain,” Doc responded.
“For now, you’ll be safer this way.”
Doc applied restraints to the captain’s arms and legs. When he tried to go across the torso, the
captain bucked in protest. Kowalski
shook his head.
“Hey,
skipper, up there to the right, is that beautiful or what?”
“Beautiful,
man.”
“Keep
it up, Kowalski.”
“For
how long?”
“Could
be an hour, could be eight. I’m going to
try to see if I can figure out what it is and whether I can neutralize it.”
Kowalski
rolled his eyes. “It’s gonna be a long
day.”
He
had no idea.
* * * * *
Captain’s
Cabin, 1015 hours
The
admiral arrived at the captain’s cabin slightly after Ryder. “Let’s go inside, son.”
“May
I join you?” Mr. Morton asked.
“Please.”
“What’s
wrong? Have I done something wrong?”
“No. We’re just trying to figure something out.”
“Why
are we in the captain’s cabin without him?”
“We
think that the captain has been drugged.
We need to ask you some questions.”
“You
don’t think I had anything to do with it?
I would never. The captain, he’s
been so kind to me.”
“Calm
down, Ryder,” the admiral said. “No
one’s making accusations against you.”
“Look,
it’s just that you served the captain’s breakfast. The only thing he had in the control room was
the same pot of coffee we all drank from.
We want to figure out if it could have been something he ate or drank
this morning.”
“He
had an omelet with vegetables, coffee, a piece of toast, and orange juice.”
“What
of that did he actually eat?” Chip asked.
“Coffee,
juice and a fair bit of the omelet.”
“You’ve
already taken the tray to the galley.
Damn, the leftovers would be impossible to isolate in the scrap bucket
by now,” the admiral said.
“No,
sir, not exactly.”
“Explain
yourself.”
“Well,
the first thing Kowalski taught me was that the Cook gets upset if you come
back with the captain’s plate unfinished, so the leftovers went in the
captain’s trash.”
“Great,
we’ll take it to Doc,” the admiral said.
“I
emptied the can when I came to tidy up.”
“Where?”
“I
dumped it in the laundry room when I took the captain’s clothes for pressing.”
“I
want you to go, find that bag and bring it to the doctor on the double.”
“Yes,
sir. Sir, is the captain going to be all
right?”
“I
hope so.”
The
admiral and Mr. Morton remained behind.
“Chip, is there anything going on aboard ship that could explain what’s
happened to Lee?”
“There’s
been a little friction among the crew, but I can’t imagine it resulting in
someone drugging Lee.”
“Follow
up on that unless you have any other ideas.
We need to find who did this to Lee and I’d damn well like to know why.”
“Yes,
admiral.”
* * *
Morton
checked sick bay after he left the admiral.
“Any
ideas who might have done this?” he asked Kowalski.
“A
couple of guys were mouthing off this morning, and after I put him on report,
Foster made a threat, but that was after this had to have happened, sir.”
“To
sir, with love, if you wanted to fly like a bird on the wing, hmmm hmmm.”
“I
knew I’d regret pushing him to do those talent shows at the Academy,” Chip
said.
“At
least he sings in tune,” Doc said.
“Frankly, as long as we keep him singing, he seems perfectly content to
stay here. That’s a first.”
“Singing
in the rain, just singing in the rain.”
“Oy. Well, if you have any ideas, Kowalski, share
them. Hopefully, Ryder will show up with
his leftovers and we can see if whatever it was in his breakfast.”
“Breakfast,
sir?”
“It
seems the most logical possibility. He
ate alone in his cabin.”
“Rogers
is on the breakfast line,” Kowalski said.
“That’s where the trouble started.
Rogers was pretty miffed at the dressing down he got from the captain.”
“Enough
to drug him?”
“Maybe. Pretty bozo headed move, if you ask me.”
“I’ll
definitely add him to my list of folks to question, although I think I’d like
to wait and see what Ryder comes back with first and talk to Cookie before
confronting Rogers.”
“Sir?” Kowalski paused as he seemed to rethink
asking his question to Mr. Morton.
“Yes?”
“I
was just thinking, and I mean, I can’t imagine why he would do it, but is there
any reason to suspect Ryder?”
“He
certainly was the last man with opportunity.
Motive is a lot harder to figure.
We’ll have to look into all the possibilities. I’m going to go talk to Foster first. Not only was there that incident in the mess
you had with him the other day, but Lee’s been riding his tail about the mess
in the circuitry room.”
“I’d
check in with Anderson too. I think he’s
the source of much of the gossip,” Kowalski added.
“Night
crew, that figures. After I check in
with O’Brien, I’ll rattle them both out of their bunks. Doc, call me if there’s any significant
change or improvement.”
* * * *
The
Control Room, 1130 hours
The
admiral cozied up to Mr. O’Brien at the chart table. “If we go in this way, we should be able to
avoid any real threat. We can always
back out if we need to.”
“Admiral?”
“Mr.
Morton, good, I’m glad you’re here. Dr.
Livsey has agreed to shift the sampling locations slightly so that we should be
able to avoid any danger. We’ll have to
go a little out of the way to get there, but it’ll save time compared to
holding out here or scrubbing and returning.
Come here, see.”
“I
wish the captain could give a say on this admiral. I don’t think he’d like it. Our seismological data is not that strong in
this region. There could be many small
volcanoes, ones that could initiate a chain reaction.”
“I
understand that, but we know the general lay of the land. If we are careful, we should be fine.”
“And
by careful, you mean what?”
“We’ll
have to see what the situation is to determine that.”
“I
think Lee would prefer reacting to data, sir.”
“Yes,
well, that’s not necessarily one of Captain Crane’s strong suits.”
“Reacting
to data, sir?”
“Overreacting
to it, Mr. Morton. Continue on this
course, three quarter speed. Seems
someone slowed our pace last night without mentioning it to the owner of the
boat.”
“Yes,
sir,” Morton replied cooly before he muttered under his breath. “Why do I have a feeling that things are
about to spiral out of control?”
* * * * *
Sick
Bay, 1545 hours
A
breathless Ryder arrived hours later than expected. “I have the captain’s leftovers, sir. I had to go through more than half the trash
on Seaview before I found it.” He
looked ready to drop.
“Good
work, Ryder.”
“How
is the captain, sir?”
“See
for yourself if you like. Kowalski could
use a break anyway.”
“Hey
Ryder. Just keep seeing what he’s seeing
and he’ll stay calm. He also likes to
free associate words to songs.”
“Why
would anyone do this to him? I don’t
understand.”
“To
embarrass him? As a diversion? Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I
hope they catch whoever did it and keel haul them.”
“Been
a long time since anyone got keel hauled on a submarine,” Kowalski
laughed. “I’ll be back in fifteen. Can I bring you anything? Something to eat?”
“A
sandwich would be great, thanks.” Ryder
took Kowalski’s chair. “It’s me, Ryder,
captain.”
“Row,
row, row your boat, gently down a stream . . .”
“Merrily,
merrily, merrily, life is but a dream,” Ryder finished.
“To
dream the impossible dream, to beat the unbeatable foe . . .”
Doc
Jamison held one hand over his temple and rubbed. “Great, now I’ve got a duet.” That duet continued on and off throughout the
evening, as Kowalski took Ryder’s calming influence on the captain as an excuse
to return to other duties after delivering the promised sandwich.
* * * * *
Sick
Bay, 2100 hours
At
2100 hours, Chip Morton was ready to be relieved. The problem was by whom. He briefly left the conn to check sick bay.
“I
can’t say what it is, but whatever it is was in the omelet, the mushrooms I
think. He’s calmed tremendously over the
last hour.”
“Does
he have any idea what’s been happening?”
“No. Just said he’d never felt so happy in his
whole life.”
“Maybe
you can find me some of those mushrooms.”
“Tell
me that after you see the next part.”
“So,
I’ll be pulling double duty tonight.”
“Possibly
tomorrow as well.”
“You’re
going to owe me, buddy boy,” Chip said in Lee’s general direction. He didn’t seem to hear it.
“Will
you be following up with the galley crew, Mr. Morton?”
“Either
me or the admiral.”
“I
don’t envy either of you.”
“Cookie’s
not likely to react well, I know.”
* * * * *
Sick
Bay, 2230 hours
Kowalski
checked on the skipper. The captain
seemed to be asleep or nearly so.
Ryder’s hand was on the captain’s forearm. Ryder had nodded off.
Doc
Jamison looked up from his desk to Kowalski and whispered. “Kid did a great job with him tonight.”
“Looks
it.”
“I’ll
send him off to his quarters soon. I
think he’ll be quiet through the night.”
“Will
he be all right?”
“If
the source of the hallucinations is what I believe it was, then he should be
fine. No long-lasting after effects are
likely, except a sore shoulder from the fall.”
“Good. I wish I knew who did it. Skipper could really have hurt himself bad.”
“Fortunately
for him, he was in a comfortable place surrounded by good men like you two
supporting him. That helped keep his
experience a pleasant one.”
“Doc,
it might be a good idea to let Ryder stay in here for the night too.”
“Why?”
“Some
of the men have an issue with him.”
“You
think he’s in danger?”
“I
just think that with the skipper down, it’d be better for him here just now.”
“Sure. No problem.”
* * * * *
The
Control Room, 2400 hours
“Get
some shuteye, Chip. We’ll run a skeleton
crew tonight. I’ll pull a short watch
and have Mr. O’Brien report in early,” the admiral ordered.
“I
can handle it, sir.”
“No. We’re not sure what’s going on with Captain
Crane, so we need to be prepared to manage for more than a day. Meanwhile, I’ll follow up with Cookie, unless
you already have without telling me.”
“No,
and thank you, sir and . . . good luck with Cookie, admiral.”
The
admiral stayed on watch for three hours until O’Brien relieved him. He resolved to sleep a little then catch
Cookie early in the morning, before first watch began. He set his alarm for 0500 hours, after which
time he would enter hostile territory.
*
* * * *
Sick
Bay, 0500 hours
The
captain writhed in his restraints. “What
the hell is going on? Why am I here?”
“Calm
down, captain,” Dr. Jamison called out from the nearby bunk in which he’d
slept. He got up and walked over to
Lee. “How are you feeling?”
“Logy
and confused. What am I doing strapped
down in sick bay?”
“What’s
the last thing you remember?”
Lee
drifted. “Bright colors. Music.
Feeling extraordinarily happy.”
“Do
you remember where you were at the time?”
“Dreaming,
I think.”
“No,
you were given a hallucinogenic. You
were restrained so that you wouldn’t hurt yourself.”
“A
hallucinogenic? Who? Why?”
“We
don’t have good answers to that yet, although I assure you that the admiral and
Mr. Morton will find them. Meanwhile,
you did have a small shoulder separation.
Expect to be sore when I let you up.”
The doctor released the restraints.
Lee
groaned. “I can’t remember anything
specific. Did I do anything to embarrass
myself?”
“Mostly
you sang.”
“May
I go back to my cabin?”
“After
I run another blood test. I want to make sure that the drug is completely out
of your system before I let you go anywhere.”
“What’s
Ryder doing here?”
“He
and Kowalski took turns keeping you calm yesterday and last night. He was a big help. He fell asleep so we rolled him into a bunk.”
“He’s
a good kid.”
The
doctor drew Lee’s blood. “I can order
you up some breakfast while you wait for results.”
“Just
some black coffee.”
Doc
shook his head at him.
“Maybe
some toast?” the captain offered in conciliation.
“Treat
this as the hangover from hell, Lee.
You’re going to have to force down food and juice or you’ll spend the
entire day here. Probably would be the
wisest course of action anyway.”
“But
I’ve about done you in, haven’t I?”
“Yes. Eat breakfast and if your blood work is
clean, you can leave.”
An
hour later, Lee Crane returned to his cabin, threw up the full breakfast he’d
forced down to escape sick bay, showered, and changed. Next, he took the brave step of returning to
the control room.
*
* * * *
The
Galley, 0530 hours
“Admiral?”
“I
need a minute to speak with you, in private, Cookie.”
If
looks could kill, or at least wither, Cookie’s would have.
“Who
prepared breakfast for Captain Crane yesterday?”
“Yer
not suggestin’ I poisoned the Cap’n?”
“Of
course not, but some sort of hallucinogenic found its way into his
breakfast. The doctor is certain.”
“I
made it. Made ‘im a three egg omelet
with veggies.”
“Did
anybody else have the same thing?”
“No. Cap’n hates those canned mushrooms, so I used
some expensive dried ones.”
“Where
did they come from?”
“You’d
have to ask Rogers. He does the
ordering. In fact, it was ‘im that
suggested using them. You don’t think? .
. . Nah.
You know I tasted ‘em myself.
Nothing happened to me.”
“How
much did you have?”
“Just
a wee bit. Precious stuff if you ask
me. Rogers said he got it in case we had
another of those vegetarian researchers on board. Tiny little bag of the stuff costs a bloody
fortune, he said. I used the entire
thing.”
“Damn. That’ll be all then.”
“You
gonna talk to Rogers?”
“Not
yet, Cookie. For now, let’s keep this
between us and keep your eyes open.”
“Yes,
sir. Funny things going on these days.”
“Funny
things?”
“Just
talk, buzz, among the crew, bout that new kid, Ryder. Kowalski got in a scuffle with a pair in the
mess yesterday morning about ‘im. Doesn’t
fit in too well, from what I hear. Maybe
you should be checkin’ into ‘im, since he takes the skipper his breakfast.”
The
admiral sighed. “Thanks for the
suggestion, Cookie. I’ll keep it in
mind. Meanwhile, please do as I asked.”
“Sure,
sir, sure thing. Hope the skipper’s
right as rain soon.”
“Me
too, Cookie. Me too.”
*
* * * * *
Ship’s
Mess, 0630 hours
“I’m
telling you. When I took dinner up for
Doc last night, the two of them were belting out show tunes and holding
hands. It was disgusting,” Anderson told
a table of crewmen.
“Oh,
come on, Anderson. We heard the captain
was drugged by someone and was hallucinating.
Maybe he thought Ryder was Marilyn Monroe,” Thornlow laughed.
“Or
maybe the drug brought out the real Crane, the pansy,” Anderson said.
“I
ain’t gonna serve under no fairy,” Foster jumped in.
Kowalski
got up from two tables away. “I already
warned you two to shut up yesterday. The
brig is next.”
“Whatever
happened to free speech?” Foster complained.
“Not
only won’t it be free, but that week’s lost pay will turn into a month’s. You hear me?”
“Maybe
you’re one of ‘em too,” Foster quipped with a nasty grin. Kowalski’s fist hit Foster’s jaw a moment
later.
In
a few more seconds, Kowalski had Foster pinned to the floor. “Now you shut up for good or you won’t be
able to eat for a month,” he said, poised to throw a crushing blow to Foster’s
jaw.
Chief
Sharkey, having watched all this at a distance intervened. “Enough, Ski.
Let him up. All of you, keep your
traps shut. No more wagging your tongues
or you all go on report. Foster, I will
put you in the brig if I hear a single word from you again. Understood?”
Foster
nodded. Kowalski got up and stormed out
of the mess. Sharkey stayed behind to
make sure his orders were followed.
* * * * *
Control
Room, 0700 hours.
“Well,
good morning, captain. Had a good night
I hope?”
“Just
swell, Chip, and you?”
“Slept
like a baby.”
“Then
who was on duty?”
“The
admiral, O’Brien and I took short shifts.
We weren’t sure what we could expect from you today, so the admiral
wanted us all to get a few hours of rest.”
“I’m
fine now.”
“Sure
you are.”
“Really. Doc cleared me for duty.”
“Okay. Glad to hear it.”
“Care
to bring me up to date on our status?”
“I
was rather hoping the admiral would do that.”
“Because
I’m not going to like it?”
“Now
we know how you made captain. Mind
reading powers.”
“What’s
going on?”
“Seismic
activity continues to increase. We’re
detouring around it some, but generally continuing toward the middle of it.”
“For
heaven’s sake, why?”
“You
know the admiral’s risk tolerance.”
“Over
120 men’s lives aboard and he’s playing around with underwater earthquakes and
volcanoes.”
“I
think he and Dr. Livsey are salivating at the research opportunity.”
“Where
is he now?”
“Hasn’t
shown his face yet. His quarters, I’d
guess,” Chip said. Lee took off
immediately. “I’d pay to be a fly on
that wall,” Chip muttered with a grin.
*
* * * *
Admiral’s
Quarters, 0709 hours
“Enter.”
“Good
morning, admiral.”
“Oh,
good morning, Lee. Glad to see you up
and about. How are you feeling?”
“Like
the world’s gone mad.”
“Just
possibly. So what would you like to
discuss first, your episode or our heading?”
“Since
only one of those involves the safety of the entire crew, I think you can
guess.”
“We’ve
pointed our course up to come in between the Bougainville and Marianas trenches. We’ll keep a respectful distance between
them.”
“Admiral,
I can’t think of a worse area to get caught in if there’s a chain reaction.”
“You
know perfectly well that there are probably hundreds of submarine volcanoes the
exact location of which we don’t know that could threaten our travels anytime.”
“But
we do know about these and we know activity is increasing.”
“As
long as we’re not too close to bottom at the time, any magma will cool off
before reaching the Seaview and we certainly would have time to move out of the
way of any resultant lava flow.”
“Look,
I understand that if we are perfectly positioned, we’re not likely to be
harmed. What I disagree with is the
amount of control we have to be perfectly positioned.”
“Seaview’s
never been in finer shape, captain.”
“There
are so many unknowns. What if both the
fault lines near the Bougainville Trench and the Marianas Trench move
simultaneously? We don’t really know
what that amount of energy coming from opposing sides could do to the boat.”
“All
the danger is to land, Lee. I’m far more
fluent in seismology than you are. I
assure you that we will be safe.”
“I
don’t agree. The readings are
exponentially building, suggesting that a significant event could occur. Why not just delay a few days?”
“Because
I do not feel the risk is significant.
Moreover, what a wonderful opportunity we have to do more seismic
mapping along the way. Seaview is, after
all, a research vessel.”
“How
many times have I heard this before a disaster we could have avoided?”
“That’ll
be enough, captain. If you can’t follow
my orders, then you can stand down.”
“Admiral,
all this control you think we have, I was drugged on the Seaview the other
day. We couldn’t control that. We don’t know who did it or how.”
“The
suspects are limited. I don’t perceive
that any of them present a risk to the mission.”
“It’s
not a risk when someone drugs the captain of the Seaview? What if it had been you?”
“Lee,
calm down. I think we both know that
what happened to you has nothing to do with the mission.”
“How
. . .”
“Before
you jump down my throat, listen to me.
I’m not saying it wasn’t terrible, and I assure you that the person
responsible will be placed in the brig until they are dismissed from the
Seaview, but I have no doubt that this is a personal issue unrelated to the
mission.”
“Based
upon what evidence?”
“We’ve
narrowed down the possible suspects to Rogers and Ryder.”
“Then
it’s Rogers.”
“Okay. So do you think our cook’s assistant is out
to sabotage our mission or that he has the wherewithal to do that even if he
wanted to?”
“No.”
“Right. There we are.”
“Is
there proof it was Rogers?”
“We
know he supplied the mushrooms that Doc believes were the source of the
hallucinogen. I doubt we can prove he
knew what they were.”
“Have
we tried?”
“No. Frankly, I’m hoping it was a one time
event. Cookie will keep a close eye on
him and your food from now on. If you
want, you can choose to take the matter up directly with Rogers.”
“Why
wouldn’t I?”
“Lee,
I know that you seem closed to the possibility, but without more information,
Doc can’t swear that hallucinogen actually was from the mushrooms rather than
something added later by Ryder. It was
six hours before Doc got the leftovers to analyze and there are none of the
dried mushrooms left to compare against what you ate or to analyze
independently.”
“What
motive would Ryder have to hurt me?”
“Who
says anyone tried to hurt you? Doc said
the effects seemed generally pleasant, except for the spill you accidentally
took. Even that didn’t bother you much.”
“Why
would Ryder want to get me high?”
“I
don’t know, but I think you should consider the possibilities. It seems far more likely to me that a college
boy would know about and have access to that kind of drug than Rogers.”
“No,
I just can’t accept that.”
“Doc
has radioed the Institute for more information about your blood chemistry
readings. Once we get that information,
we may know more. It shouldn’t take more
than a day or two. Until then, maybe you
should take mess with the crew instead of on your own.”
“Yes,
admiral.”
“Are
you sure you feel up to the conn today, Lee?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Go
to it then.”
* * * * *
The
Control Room, 0730 hours
“Show
me what you’ve got, Mr. Morton.”
“Here’s
our route. Here’s the latest
seismographic readings. Here’s the
systems status report, and, last but not least, here’s a fresh pot of
coffee. She’s all yours, captain.”
Lee
gave Chip a look of frustration.
“I
think I’ll turn in now. Curl up with a
good book. Think happy thoughts.”
“Beats
reality, I suppose.”
“You
know the admiral’s never wrong, Lee!” Chip poked him in the side.
“Except
when he is,” Lee mumbled.
Lee
Crane settled down at the plotting table for the next hour, letting the crew
proceed on course without a word of advice.
When the tapping of the eraser end of his pencil accelerated to annoying
speed, Mr. O’Brien padded over softly.
“Everything
all right, captain?”
“Huh? Just thinking, O’Brien. Why?”
“Usually
when you start tapping like that with your pencil, something is troubling you.”
“Oh. Well, maybe.”
“It
can be kind of annoying too.”
“Right. Sorry.
I’m going to walk the boat. As
you know, I missed last night.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“I
may be a while. Call if you need me for
anything.”
“Yes,
sir.”
* * * *
Lee
Crane walked Seaview’s lower decks for the next three hours, taking meticulous
care to assess the Seaview’s status. If
the admiral was going to insist upon continuing into the Ring of Fire during a
seismically active period, Lee was going to make certain Seaview was in top
form.
He
nitpicked his way from the bottom up. By
the time he got to the circuitry room, he’d found twenty-three items that he
wanted given immediate attention. He
remained displeased with the status of the circuitry room. It had been only slightly tidied since his
last visit.
“Foster,
belay working on the new circuitry panel until I give the go ahead. Instead, clear this stuff out of here and
double check the existing panels. Make
certain that every wire to every critical system is securely attached and
grounded. Don’t leave a single frayed or
exposed wire,” he said as he pointed out several items that bothered him.
“But
the admiral wanted the upgrade finished as soon as possible. He’s concerned about another overload.”
“The
last overload wouldn’t have happened if the existing panels had been properly
maintained. I’m giving you a direct
order, Foster.”
“Yes,
sir, as long as the admiral knows.”
Lee
sighed heavily. This had been a flaw in
the operation of the Seaview since he first came aboard. Yes, the admiral owned the boat, but he
wasn’t her captain, except when he wanted to be. It confused the men. It confounded Lee.
“He’ll
know now.” Lee picked up the
intercom. “Circuitry room to Admiral
Nelson.”
“Nelson
here.”
“I’m
belaying the upgrade you ordered for the time being, admiral.”
“If
you think it best, captain.”
“Satisfied,
Foster?”
“Yes,
sir,” Foster snapped in a way that disturbed Lee.
“You
have a problem with me, Foster?”
Foster
didn’t answer.
“Do
you have a problem with me that would prevent you from carrying out your duties
as ordered, sailor?”
“No,
sir.”
“Then
do as I ordered,” Lee said and left.
* * * * *
Guest
Quarters, 1130 hours
Lee
knocked softly at Ryder’s door, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep.
“Come
in.”
“Morning,
Ryder. No, don’t get up. I just wanted to come by and say thank you
for your help yesterday. Doc says that
you and Kowalski were godsends to him.”
“You’re
welcome, sir. I’m glad I could help.”
“Hopefully
we’ll get to the bottom of it soon.”
“You
mean who in the galley did it?”
“Presumably,
yes.”
“It
had to be the food, sir.”
“True.”
“Captain,
you can’t think that I did it? Why would
I do it?”
“No,
Ryder, I don’t think you did it.”
“Thank
you, sir. I just wish the rest of the
crew believed that too.”
“Has
anyone said anything to you?”
Ryder
bowed his head. “I’d rather not repeat
it, sir.”
“I
could order you to tell me.”
“I
wish you wouldn’t, sir. As long as you
believe me, I don’t really care what the crew thinks.”
“I
owe you an apology, Ryder. I don’t think
I did you any favors with the crew by moving you into the guest quarters. It might have stirred the pot.”
“I
don’t think it would have made much difference, sir, and at least I can sleep
here without getting slugged in the night.”
“Take
the next 24 off, Ryder. You’ve earned
it. I’ll catch mess in the wardroom in
the morning.”
“Coffee
alone doesn’t count, sir.”
“I
hear you. If you’d like, you’re welcome
to help yourself to any books from my shelves that might catch your eye.”
“Thank
you, sir.”
*
* * * *
The
Control Room, 1215 hours
Lee
returned to the conn. He pestered each
station to check and recheck systems. It
was the least, and most, he could do.
For
lunch, he had Kowalski bring him half of a tuna sandwich from the crew’s mess
and a fresh pot of coffee. He didn’t
finish his sandwich and he also left over the unasked for cookie.
The
remainder of his watch consisted of much more pencil tapping. Several things bothered him: the mission, his drugging, difficulties with
some crew members, both new and old, and memories too. The day dragged on eternally as he sat at the
chart table. At times, he sat deep in
thought, at others, he was just there, not thinking at all. He startled when Chip reported.
“Have
you been like this all day, skipper?”
Sparks’
eye roll suggested the answer was “yes.”
“What? Just lost in thought.”
“Any
ones you want to share before handing off?”
“We’re
doing what the admiral wants. I’ve been
running systems checks all day, walked the boat this morning and checked on
some things. We should be good to go
when the unexpected happens.”
“Did
you eat anything today?”
“Lunch.”
“I’ll
have someone bring you up a dinner tray.”
“No,
I’ll go down and get something myself.”
“Cookie
will be gone.”
“I
can make a sandwich on my own.”
“He
won’t like it.”
“Too
bad.”
* * * *
Galley,
2030 hours
“Evening,
captain.”
“Evening,
Anderson.”
“Can
I put together a tray for you? I was
just getting a snack for Dr. Livsey.”
“No
thanks. I can manage.”
“Where’s
Ryder?”
“I
thought he deserved a night off after babysitting me the other night.”
“Would
you like me to do turn down for you then?”
“No
thank you. I think I can manage.”
“Of
course, sir. Dr. Livsey never drinks
more than a cup out of the pot. If you
like, I could bring you the rest of the coffee after I serve him.”
Crane
saw Anderson already had the pot ready.
“Sure. Never can say no to a cup
of fresh coffee. Thanks.”
Crane
made a rudimentary sandwich from a piece of rubbery looking cheese, a piece of
mystery meat, possibly bologna, and mustard.
It didn’t look too appetizing, like most of the food on the boat. He meant no offense to Cook; all ships were
like that, relying on processed, pre-prepared foods as a matter of necessity.
Lee
ate the sandwich as he stood in the galley so he wouldn’t have to deal with the
dish in his quarters later. He
meticulously washed the plate and knife, and returned them to the cabinet and
drawer. Cookie would be none the wiser.
Captain’s
Cabin, 2100 hours
Lee
returned to his quarters. Anderson had
already delivered the coffee pot. Lee
sat and drank two cups although he knew it unwise to consume that much caffeine
if he intended to sleep in a few hours.
He glanced at the seismology report he found waiting on his desk. He didn’t like the progression. He spent half an hour looking at the
seismology book. He still didn’t like
it. He got up to seek out the
admiral. He took a single step before he
doubled over in pain and vomited. He
reached for the phone. He succeeded only
in knocking it off the other side of the desk as he fell to the floor when
another wave of cramping coursed through him.
“Get
yourself together,” Lee thought as he tried to breathe through the pain. He pulled himself along the floor toward the
head. He didn’t make it before he heaved
up more fluid. By the time he did manage
to reach the head, he was dry heaving.
The
intercom on the wall was slightly closer now than the phone on the floor by his
desk. “Ten feet. You can do it,” he
encouraged himself. He made it five feet
before another round of dry heaving began.
Lee tasted bile on his tongue.
His throat ached and burned.
Five
more feet took another two minutes, interrupted by more dry heaves. He felt as though his liver tried to come up
his throat. “One shot at this,” he
thought. He pulled himself upwards,
bracing on the door. He reached up for
the intercom handset, knocking it down.
He fell down with the handset. He
reached out his hand for it, pressed the button. No words came out. “Breathe,” he reminded himself. “Cr . . .” he managed in a mere whisper
before the next attack came. He curled
up in a ball. He had to get out in the
hallway to find help if he couldn’t talk.
The door now seemed further away than he could reach, however.
Knocking,
he heard knocking. He tried to say
enter, but he couldn’t make a sound loud enough to penetrate the door. Wait, of course he could. He knocked on the wall.
“Sir? Are you here?”
A
violent retching noise answered Ryder.
* * * *
Sick
Bay, 2200 hours
Ryder
and a med tech carried Captain Crane to sick bay. Lee’s dry heaves continued steadily for
several minutes after Dr. Jamison injected Lee Crane with an anti-emetic.
Ryder
stayed by the captain, uttering calming words, until he saw the drug provided
him some relief.
“Any
idea what brought this on, captain?” Dr. Jamison asked.
Crane
nodded, but he couldn’t speak.
Dr.
Jamison shined a light in Lee Crane’s throat.
“Get him some ice chips, Frank.
Don’t try to talk yet, captain.
You’re throat is massively inflamed and trying to talk will only make it
hurt worse. Just relax.”
Crane
shook his head. Perspiration flew
off.
“I
don’t like it. He’s hot, pulse is
racing, heartbeat is fast. Captain, did
you eat or drink anything recently? Just
nod.”
Crane
nodded. He raised a hand to show the
motion of drinking coffee.
“There
was a coffee pot and cup on his desk, Doctor.”
“Go
to his quarters and, no, wait.”
“You
don’t think I had anything to do with this?”
Dr.
Jamison didn’t respond to Ryder even though Lee Crane shook his head “no”. Dr. Jamison considered what to do for a
moment, then picked up his phone. “Admiral,
the captain is in sick bay. I don’t know
yet whether it’s food poisoning, a virus or something else. If you could, there’s a coffee pot and cup in
his cabin that I’d like to examine.
Thanks.”
Ryder
continued to object. “I didn’t even
serve him tonight.”
“Why
were you in his quarters?”
“I
just came to borrow a book and I found him like this.”
Crane
nodded. He tried to say something, but
merely croaked instead. Another wave of
pain coursed through him and he nearly fell off the table on to the floor. Dr. Jamison stood by his side, using his body
to try to keep Crane on the table.
“Damn. His temperature is rising.”
The
admiral was through the door next. “How
is he?”
“Not
good. Frank, prepare a couple of
slides. Do a control slide from some
coffee from my pot too.”
“Can’t
you give him something?” Admiral Nelson asked.
“I
don’t know what to give him. I could
make him worse.”
“Ryder,
what do you know about this?” Admiral Nelson asked.
“Nothing. He gave me the night off. I went to get a book from his cabin and I
found him on the floor.”
“Lee
confirmed that’s what happened.”
“Did
he tell you anything useful?”
“His
throat is too inflamed to speak.”
“Okay,
if Ryder didn’t bring him coffee, then someone else had to.” Nelson picked up the phone. “Get me Commander Morton.”
“Chip,
I need to find out who brought Lee dinner.
Discreetly, if you please.”
“I
can answer that, sir. He went down to
the galley himself. He wasn’t taking any
chances after yesterday. Why?”
“He’s
very sick.”
“Like
the other night?”
“No. It may just be food poisoning or a bug.”
“Lee
complained about stomach trouble two days ago.”
“When?”
“In
the morning.”
“I
don’t know what to make of all this.”
“Keep
me posted on Lee’s condition, please, sir.”
“I
will, Chip.”
“Doc,
Chip thinks Lee got his own dinner, and coffee too, I presume. He also said he had some stomach trouble two
mornings ago.”
Dr.
Jamison was looking through the microscope as the admiral spoke. “I find it hard to believe the captain would
have poisoned his own coffee, sir.”
“You
found something?”
“Yes.”
“Is
it serious?”
“Frank,
hang an IV, ringer’s lactate, full open.
Let’s get in a corticosteroid, antihistamine and activated charcoal.”
“What’s
all that mean, Doc?”
“We
don’t have time to figure out exactly what he’s been poisoned with. I just have to throw medicine in him, dilute
whatever the poison is and hope enough of it leaves his system.”
“What
are the odds?”
“He’ll
either improve rapidly or not respond.”
“In
which case?”
“I’ll
throw everything else at him. And we
pray.”
* * * * *
Control
Room, 0100 hours
“Dr.
Jamison thinks he’s stabilizing,” the admiral announced as he entered the
Control Room.
“Thank
god,” Chip sighed.
“Yes,
but we must find who’s doing this to Lee before he ends up dead.”
“Any
suspects?”
“Someone
put something in his coffee tonight. We
don’t have a clue who.”
“Does
Lee know?”
“He
can’t talk yet. From now on, he won’t be
left alone.”
“Damn
it. We should have done that yesterday.”
“Yes,
in retrospect, I should have treated that more seriously.”
“Doc
didn’t think Lee’s life was threatened by what he was given yesterday,
though. It all seemed kind of ridiculous
instead. More like someone’s bad idea of
a joke.”
“True,
but Lee’s the captain of the Seaview and I should have treated it as a major
threat.”
“Could
we be missing something here, sir?”
“Like
what?”
“A
threat to Seaview?”
“I
got the sense from you and several others that this is likely to be more
personal, the Ryder/Rogers matter.”
“I
know, but at a certain point you have to wonder.”
“I’ll
consider it, but so far the only threat I see is to Lee personally, not to the
mission. If you come up with anything to
suggest otherwise, let me know immediately.”
* * * * *
Control
Room, 0600 hours
“Good
morning, admiral.”
“Everything
smooth through the night, Mr. Morton?”
“Yes,
sir. We should arrive at the coordinates
you requested by 1000 hours.”
“Doc
says that Lee improved greatly through the night.”
“Wonder
how long before we see him?”
“Not
today, Doc said. I’ll take the conn for
the next few hours. You go get some
sleep. I think Mr. O’Brien can manage
after that.”
“Promise
to call me if there are any issues?”
“Yes,
Mr. Morton, I’ll do that.”
* * * * *
Sick
Bay, 0830 hours
The
captain groaned as he stirred.
“Again? Damn it.” The words emerged in a raspy whisper.
“Morning,
captain,” Dr. Jamison offered. “Feeling
better this morning?”
“It’s
morning?”
“Yes,
try not to talk too much. Your throat is
highly irritated. Talking will make it
worse.”
“Admiral?”
Lee squeaked.
“In
the Control Room relieving Mr. Morton.
He’s been apprised of your progress.”
“What
happ . . . ?” Crane couldn’t finish the word.
His voice had gone again.
“I
was hoping you could tell me that. The
coffee in your cabin last night contained poison.”
The
captain closed his eyes in thought.
After he’d eaten his sandwich in the galley, he came back to his cabin
where he found the coffee pot waiting.
He’d sat sipping and reading until the cramping began. The coffee.
The doctor was certain. But
who? Anderson had brought it up, at
least he said he would. Yet Anderson had
made the coffee for Dr. Livsey before Lee had even entered the galley. Livsey wasn’t in sick bay. It didn’t make sense. Then again, his cabin had been empty when he
came inside and he found the coffee waiting.
Someone else could have come in and drugged the pot. Yet if they didn’t know the coffee was there,
why would they do that?
“Go?”
Lee managed to croak out.
“Honestly,
captain, you are impossible. You’ll stay
here until I discharge you. You’re weak
as a kitten right now.”
Lee
couldn’t argue the fact, much as he’d like to.
He’d rather be anywhere else, but an exhausted, voiceless captain wasn’t
much use. He continued to think about
what could have happened. Sleep
intervened before he made progress.
* * *
Sick
Bay, 1100 hours
Ryder
visited sick bay to check on the captain.
He’d just begun to stir.
“Hi,
sir. You look much better.”
The
captain shrugged.
“He
can’t talk yet, but he’s on the road to recovery.”
“Is
it okay if I talk to him?”
“Sure. I’m going to get some fresh coffee. Don’t leave till I return, okay? The captain’s been known to leave without
being discharged and I promised the admiral I wouldn’t let him out of my sight
without a guard.”
Ryder
nodded okay.
“Sir,
something happened this morning, I overheard something. I’m not sure it means anything, but given the
weird stuff that’s happened to you, I wanted to talk to you.”
Lee
nodded.
“You
know that Anderson’s is steward to Dr. Livsey.
Well, early this morning, Anderson went into Livsey’s cabin and stayed a
long time. Disconcertingly long.”
Lee
shrugged. The same had been said about
him and Ryder recently. It was not a
good basis upon which to jump to conclusions.
“When
I went past Dr. Livsey’s door, I swear I heard one of them say something about
you, that you wouldn’t be a problem anymore.
I don’t know what they meant by it exactly, but given what happened to
you, it seemed troubling.”
Lee
closed his eyes in thought. It could
have been as simple as Anderson telling Dr. Livsey about what had happened to
Lee and Livsey was glad that Lee would stop throwing obstacles up to continuing
with the mission. Or it could be
something more insidious. Lee opened his
eyes and tried to speak. Nothing came
out. He gestured for a pad to write
on. Ryder pawed through the doctor’s
desk until he found a pen and pad.
“Anderson
left me the coffee last night.”
“What
does it mean?”
Lee
shrugged in confusion. “Going to control
room. I want you to stand by in
quarters,” he wrote.
“Why
there?”
“Safe.”
“From
what?”
“????”
Lee wrote. “Order.”
Lee
got up, but then reeled backward. “Help
me to cabin,” he wrote. Ryder took him
there and helped him put on a fresh uniform.
“Thanks. Back to your cabin now,”
Lee wrote.
Ryder
began to argue. He couldn’t imagine the
captain going back down a ladder by himself, but the captain would not be
dissuaded.
With
great effort, Lee Crane climbed down the ladder. As he did so, he felt a disconcerting change
in the Seaview. It seemed to him that
the lighting dimmed as if the ship had switched to emergency lighting, although
he considered it possible that it was his eyesight that was dimming. He wanted to run to the control room to see
what was happening, but running was not an option in his condition. He continued his slow walk there, using the
wall as a prop.
* * * * *
Control
Room, 1125 hours
“We’re
dead in the water, admiral,” Chip Morton said.
“What
happened?”
“A
complete electrical failure. We’re on
auxiliary reserve.”
“Raise
the circuitry room.”
“Foster
here.”
“What
the devil is going on there?”
“We’ve
had a massive burn out, sir. We should
have continued with the upgrade.”
“How
long before you can make repairs?”
“It
could take as long as two days. It’s
serious, admiral.”
“Let’s
get a full repair crew in there immediately and find a way to get this ship
going.”
“No
one can work in here until the scrubbers clear the air, sir. That’ll be
. . . cough cough . . . a while.
I’ll assemble a repair crew while they’re going.”
“Then
get the hell out of there until it’s safe.
Let me know when you get back in and can do a better assessment.”
“What
does this mean, admiral?” Dr. Livsey asked as he entered from the observation
deck.
“We’re
operating on reserve power until the electrical system can be repaired.”
“How
long can we stay this way?”
“Dead
in the water? Not long. Auxiliary power will provide emergency
lighting and air circulation for a couple of hours, but running the scrubbers
will shorten that time. Sparks, see if
there are any ships nearby.”
“How
could this happen?”
“I
don’t know. It shouldn’t have. There’s no good reason for a massive
electrical failure short of major mistake or sabotage.”
“Your
man said something about an upgrade?”
“Captain
Crane ordered it delayed until we successfully navigated the Ring of Fire.”
“Could
that have made the difference if it had been finished?”
“Possibly,
but that doesn’t explain a massive system failure. Just what are you insinuating?”
“You
must admit your captain’s behavior has been most bizarre the past several
days.”
“He
was drugged and poisoned, quite possibly to cover up someone’s mischief.”
“Sir,
we should take steps to consolidate our air usage,” O’Brien interrupted.
“Right. All crew report to emergency stations and
remain there until further notice.
Conserve oxygen at all costs.
O’Brien, what do you have on the status of the circuitry room?”
“Scrubbers
are working. Air should be viable in ten
more minutes.”
“Foster,
you should be able to enter in ten minutes.
Do whatever it takes to allow us to blow ballast. I don’t care if you have to daisy chain every
available battery on the boat!”
“Yes,
sir. We’ll be ready to go shortly after
we reenter. I’ll update you on our
progress.”
“What
does all that mean, admiral?”
“If
we can get to the surface, we’ll at least be assured air supply while we assess
repair possibilities.”
“And
if repairs aren’t possible?”
“We’ll
have to find help.”
“Sparks,
is there anything nearby?”
“Navy
says the closest friendly ship is four hundred miles away.”
“And
less than friendly?”
“None
that the Navy is aware of, sir.”
“Kowalski,
anything on sonar?”
“Earthquake
activity and volcanoes are making sonar readings erratic, admiral, masking items,
distorting them. Hard to tell feedback
versus objects.”
“Damn. I should have listened to Captain Crane.”
“Sir,
we are receiving a communication.”
“From
who?”
“I
don’t know.”
“Put
it on speaker.”
“This
is the Submarine Ting Wa of the People’s Republic. We are aware of your situation and are
prepared to offer assistance.”
“This
is Admiral Nelson of the Seaview. Where
are you and what are your terms?”
“We
are an hour away from your position. We
will deliver your crew to neutral ground in exchange for which you will give us
the Seaview.”
“I
don’t think so,” Nelson said.
“Very
well. We will be in your vicinity
shortly. We will either help you or wait
until your crew is dead and then take your boat.”
Lee
Crane walked unsteadily into the room.
“Lee,
what are you doing here?” Admiral Nelson asked.
“Ship
stopped?”
“A
massive electrical failure.”
“Not
possible unless sabotage.” Lee’s voice
faded. He pointed at Dr. Livsey. “Anderson too.”
“Now
is not the time for unfounded accusations, Lee.”
Crane
held himself barely propped up by the door frame.
“Not
as unfounded as you might imagine,” Anderson said as he entered the Control
Room hatch with a gun pulled. “Everyone
face down on the floor, except you, admiral.”
Anderson came up to Lee Crane and kicked him hard in the side, sending
him to the floor. Once Lee was there,
Anderson kicked him in the chest. Lee
curled up, wheezing for breath. “God,
what a pain in the ass you are, Crane.
We should have just killed him like I suggested, Dr. Livsey.”
“Livsey,
why?” Admiral Nelson stumbled.
“Power
and prestige, to start. The Seaview at
my disposal for research.”
“How
about loyalty to your country?”
“That
too.”
“The
People’s Republic?”
“Yes,
and I suggest you take their offer. I
promise they will deliver you into neutral hands, all but one of you.”
“Who?”
“Crane?”
“Why?”
“Because
he failed us before. Because we do not
accept failure. We shall learn from
him.”
“You
know I won’t allow that.”
“One
hundred twenty men saved in exchange for one?
I think you shall agree. I think
Captain Crane would be the first one to accept that deal if he were in better
shape.”
The
admiral looked Lee’s way. He was a shell
of himself, but the admiral thought he’d moved closer to the door while the
admiral was engaged with Livsey.
Anderson seemed to think Lee of no further consequence and no longer
watched him. Was that a sign that Lee
just gave him with his hand? The admiral
resolved to keep Livsey and Anderson distracted just in case.
Admiral
Nelson walked toward the nose of Seaview with no objection from Livsey or
Anderson. He tapped on the window. “Who else is in on this?”
“You
are delaying in the hopes of a miracle, admiral. There shall be none.”
“Foster? That’s why you wanted Lee out of your
way. To distract him from seeing what
Foster was doing and keep the rest of us off balance. For god’s sake, he’s not assembling any
repair crews at all, is he? He’s making
sure things can’t be repaired.”
“Assume
what you wish, admiral,” Livsey smirked.
“It won’t change a thing. Your
only hope for survival is to be boarded.
The offer will not be open long.”
“Has
it occurred to you that you might not survive either?”
“We
can help ourselves to reserve oxygen as you perish.”
“We
could stop you.”
“You
could try. Then you will lose men to
gunshots instead of oxygen deprivation.
If you do not accept our generous offer, you will be condemning your crew
to certain death. That is not your way,
admiral.”
Nelson
couldn’t argue. He could only distract
longer. He paced and thought. Meanwhile, Crane had managed to crawl out of
the control room door.
“We
could push this faster, Livsey. I could
start shooting people now.” Anderson
moved his gun from crewman to crewman until he aimed at the spot where Crane no
longer was. “Jesus, he’s gone. I’m going after him.”
“No,”
Dr. Livsey ordered. “He can’t get far
and he can’t change anything at this point.
Secure the hatch. No one else
will trouble us then.”
“I
don’t like it,” Anderson complained.
The
admiral eased toward the intercom. He
fully expected to be shot, but he had to give his men a chance. He grabbed it, surprised that Anderson didn’t
do anything.
“Go
ahead, admiral, order your men to surrender,” Dr. Livsey said.
The
admiral nodded. “Men, the Seaview has
been sabotaged. Our air supply is
critical. Our only choice is to accept
the help of the People’s Republic who will arrive within the hour. You know what to do. Fight,” he shouted at the end. He dropped the speaker and attempted to move
behind the shelter of the stairs before the inevitable shot came. Instead, Livsey cackled.
“No
one heard you, admiral, but it was entertaining to watch you try! Foster cut the intercom system after his last
call.”
The
admiral did his best to hide his frustration.
“My men will find a way.”
The
wait began.
*
* * * *
Seaview’s
Halls, 1204 hours
Crane
made it to the first ladder up to Deck A, but he couldn’t climb. Anderson’s kicks had bruised a rib or maybe
worse. He grabbed the intercom handset
and tried to hail the engine room. No
answer. He called out to the reactor
room. No answer. The intercom didn’t work anymore. He went to sick bay. It was empty.
Everyone had gone aft or forward to stations for oxygen
conservation. Options ran through
Lee’s head. The phone lines were limited
on the ship. Sparks processed all calls,
except you could direct dial officers quarters.
No one was in those now, though.
You could also dial guest quarters.
He’d told Ryder to stay put.
Lee dialed.
“Ryder. Not much time. May get cut off soon. Get gun from my cabin, top desk drawer. Meet me in sick bay.”
In
just under two minutes, Ryder appeared.
Crane spoke in a croaky whisper, his throat still raw and painful.
“We must get in the circuitry room. See if she can be fixed. Foster probably outside it guarding it. You head inside, through the ducts.” Lee handed Ryder a diagram of the ducts,
then Lee gulped some water hoping to
soothe his throat enough to communicate the plan.
“I
wouldn’t know what to do in the circuitry room when I got there.”
“Diversion. Come out after I’m in.”
“Wouldn’t
it make more sense for you to go inside and me outside?”
Lee
nodded. “Not in this shape. Outside, I have advantage.”
“You
can barely stand, sir. How can you have
an advantage against an armed man?”
“Do.”
“Why?”
“They
want me alive.”
“What
for?”
“Revenge.”
“So
I’m to jump Foster once you get inside?”
“Shoot
him.”
“I’ve
never fired a gun. You better take
it.” Ryder forced it upon the
captain.
Lee
began to give it back, but decided this was not a time to give a gun to someone
with no experience. “If I don’t get in,
crawl to the missile room and get help.
Patterson will know what to do.”
“Yes,
sir.”
Lee
swilled more water, spilling some onto his shirt. He escorted Ryder to the laundry and pointed
to the duct to enter. “Two minute head
start. Go.” As Ryder maneuvered his narrow frame into the
duct and Lee turned to the door to exit, Lee wondered whether he was the one
who needed the head start to cover the short distance. With a groan, or two, Lee began his long,
slow journey aft.
Several
minutes later, Lee cracked the hatch to the rear of the boat that lay situated
just before the circuitry room. He
doubted he’d been quiet enough to go unheard.
Lee guessed that Foster either was inside the circuitry room ready to
fend off any intruders or that he’d lined up around the corner from the
circuitry room door in the passageway where he’d have clean aim on anyone
coming from several access points.
Lee
edged low and slow toward the circuitry room door, waiting for and expecting
trouble. He put his left hand on the
doorknob and paused. He hadn’t seen or
heard any signs of Foster. Maybe Lee had
been wrong. Maybe Foster had done so
much damage that he had no reason to stay near the circuitry room. Much of Foster’s intercom conversation had
been a ruse, after all. Lee only knew he
didn’t have the time or energy to hunt Foster down through the corridors beyond
circuitry and he might be able to do some good inside. Lee slowly opened the Circuitry Room door
inward, frustratingly blind to whatever might lay inside. He listened carefully for any sound. When he heard the sound, it was too
late.
Someone
kicked Lee’s gun arm from the passageway behind him. Lee’s gun dropped while Lee fell off to the
side just out of reach of the gun. Lee
reached towards it, only to find Foster’s foot on top of his hand.
“Don’t tempt me,” Foster said as he slowly
increased the weight on his foot while aiming his own gun at Lee’s chest. Foster then eased down his free hand to pick
up Lee’s gun. When Foster returned to a
full stand, he removed his foot from Lee’s hand. He viciously swung his foot it into Lee’s
gut. Lee moaned and curled in pain.
“Just
what does it take to shut you down entirely, Captain Crane?” Foster
laughed. Foster pushed the door to circuitry
fully open and tossed Lee’s gun into the far left corner. “Get up and get inside,” he ordered
Lee. He got behind Lee as Lee struggled
to stand and, as soon as Lee was on his feet, Foster violently pushed Lee
forward to the right. Lee tumbled onto the
floor. He remained there, assessing the
situation. Lee’s gun was at the opposite
end of the room near where Ryder should emerge at any time. Lee doubted Ryder could get to it before
Foster saw or heard Ryder, however. It
was imperative that Lee maintain Foster’s attention to allow Ryder to slip
inside. Lee dragged himself up, loosing
a series of groans that both reflected how he really felt and that he hoped
would cover any noise Ryder might make.
Lee studied the circuitry panels.
The
three major breaker panels were completely fried, but Foster hadn’t stopped
there. Afterwards, he’d cut the bundle
of wiring exiting each panel, taking care to see that the labeled ends of the
wires were left on the breaker side.
That promised to make reattachment of systems to new panels a
complicated nightmare. A fourth panel,
on an opposing wall, which was dedicated to the intercom system, had its wires
cut but it had not been burnt out like the others.
“Thorough
job, Foster,” Lee croaked in a gravelly voice.
“Thank
you, captain. I’ll take that as a
compliment.”
“How
long did you tell the admiral it would take to fix this?”
“Days.”
“Good
job, but I think you overestimated the quality of your work.”
“I
don’t think so. Our people will board
you long before you could get things repaired, if you had the opportunity, that
is.”
“Not
so hard. I could finish the upgrade
panel in a few minutes and jump critical circuits to it.”
“You
could do that from this unmarked mass of wires?
I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t,”
Lee shrugged to bait him.
“But
if there is a possibility, I can take care of that now.” Foster stepped toward the door to retrieve
the fire ax.
“Think
you can swing that and hold a gun on me at the same time?” Lee’s voice seemed to be growing stronger on
adrenaline.
“You
have a point, captain. I have a better
idea.” He kicked the ax toward the
captain. “You destroy it or I’ll shoot
you.”
“You
have orders to bring me in alive.”
“I
can shoot to wound. Would you like a
preview?”
“Not
really,” Lee admitted.
Lee
saw Ryder in the vent above Foster. Lee
had to keep Foster distracted a bit longer.
Lee wasn’t naive enough to think he could toss the ax at Foster before
Foster could shoot him, even if he felt tempted. Instead, he picked up the ax and swung it at
the new panel. It bounced off the metal
and free of Lee’s hand, missing anything of consequence.
“Too
weak,” Lee said as his body shrunk down in a not entirely fake show of
exhaustion. As Lee had swung, Ryder had
pushed the vent out and begun his plunge into the room. Foster turned as he caught the sound. Lee lunged forward into Foster, pushing him
down. Foster rolled away. Ryder hadn’t yet had time to retrieve Lee’s
gun when Foster sprang up with his own gun still in hand. Lee stood only a few feet from Ryder then.
“Clever
diversion, captain. Nevertheless, it was
a failure, and two hostages are one more than I need. Shall it be pansy A or pansy B?” he laughed
as he moved the gun playfully from one to the other. “What a convenient distraction you proved to
be, Ryder, but now I see little need left for you,” Foster said as he steadied
his aim at Ryder’s chest. Lee charged
toward Ryder to push him out of the way.
Foster’s gun discharged. Ryder
and Lee both lay unmoving on the floor.
Foster cautiously edged over to see whom he’d hit, certain he’d made
contact. Unobserved by Foster, Ryder
scooped up Lee’s gun, rolled over, and blindly shot toward Foster, once, twice,
thrice. A cry of pain followed.
Ryder
couldn’t move for a moment, his breath gone or forgotten. He had to consciously inhale and exhale the
acrid air of the circuitry room a few times before he found his muscles
returning to his control. The warm gun
remained in his hand. Foster wasn’t
moving at all. Foster’s gun laid on the
floor out of reach of Foster’s limp arm.
Captain Crane was down too, just a few feet away. Ryder saw blood on the captain, but movement
too. Ryder rose and reached for the nearby
intercom handset.
“This
is the circuitry room. We need help
here. Hello? Anyone, we need help in the circuitry room.”
No
one answered.
“Ryder,”
Lee Crane said softly, “I need you to listen closely. Help me up.”
“You’ve
been shot, sir.”
“I’m
painfully aware of that. In the next
five minutes, before I likely go into shock, we’ve got a lot to do. I need to get up.”
Ryder
got him up and supported him.
“Take
me over there,” Lee pointed toward the unfinished upgrade panel. Lee quickly made several connections. “Now help me over there,” he pointed toward
the three large bundles of cut cables hanging down from the panels on the
adjoining wall. Lee slunk down to the
floor and leaned against the wall for support.
He began to sort through the wires.
“What
can I do?” Ryder asked.
“Get
me a wire stripper from the top middle locker.
Then get five sets of jumper cables from the third locker on the left,
bottom shelf.” Hook them to breakers 1,
3, 5, and 12. Bring me the ends after
each one, in that same order.”
Lee
stared at the first bundle. There was no
time to look for the numbers on the cut off ends. He had to rely on his memory and knowledge --
different gauges of wire, color coded by system or function. Still, there were so many it would be easy to
muck it up. He’d tinkered with the
circuitry so often, however, he had to believe in himself. Lee pulled four wires from three separate
bundles, quickly falling behind Ryder’s pace in attaching the jumper
cables.
“What
about the fifth one?” Ryder asked in anticipation. He feared the captain might pass out from
blood loss any second.
“Hook
to breaker 20, flip the panel switch on, and then bring it here. Good.
See this wire? Help me to the
intercom, then pick up and hold this wire when I give the word.”
Ryder
complied even as he argued. “But the
intercom is dead, sir.”
“It
won’t be in a minute, not if I’ve earned my bars,” Crane said as flipped the
intercom panel breakers off, reconnected several wires and flipped the breakers
back on. “Give me the handset.”
Ryder
put it in Lee’s hand.
“After
I complete my message, in eleven seconds, jump that wire -- only for three
seconds -- then release it. As you do
it, grab hold of anything you can to hang on.
She’s going to roll.”
“What
about you, sir?”
“I’ll
just have to take my chances down here.
Here goes. . .. Captain Crane to control room.”
“Bravo,
captain. You’ve reconnected the
intercom. A small accomplishment that.”
“You’re
right, Livsey. Let me talk to the
admiral.”
“He
can hear you. Go ahead.”
“Sorry
admiral - did my best -- we’ll have to abandon ship - I can’t piece together
the board in less than a right eleven hours -- too much by my fingers as I
count. Out.”
“Count
down now, Ryder.”
Lee
looked for something to grab on to, but there was nothing nearby. He sank down to the floor and prayed he’d
saved the rest while Ryder counted down.
“Ten,
nine, eight, . . ..”
* * *
Control
Room, 1246 hours
“So
admiral, your golden boy has failed you too.
Are you ready to concede defeat?”
Admiral
Nelson extended his left hand forward and up as if to concede; at the same
time, he reached back with his right hand to grab a wall stanchion. A second later, the ship violently rotated to
the right.
Moments
later, Dr. Livsey was unconscious. Kowalski
sat on top of Anderson. He’d jumped on
Anderson immediately after the lurch.
Anderson’s gun had been lost in the chaos.
“This
is Admiral Nelson. We have Seaview back
in our control. Emergency crews report
to the circuitry room and the missile room on the double.”
* * *
Circuitry
Room, 1250 hours
“Sir,
you did it.”
“No,
we did, son,” Lee Crane said as he slipped from consciousness. He’d rolled clear across the room when the
boat lurched and then halfway back again when she righted. A stripe of blood marked the path he’d
travelled.
The
intercom crackled. “Circuitry Room
report.”
“Here,
sir.”
“Where’s
the captain?”
“Captain
Crane is unconscious, sir. We need the
doctor fast.”
“Who
is this?”
“Ryder. Foster shot the captain. The captain, he saved my life.”
“Help
is on the way, Ryder. Hold on to him
tight, though. Evasive maneuvers are
likely.”
Ryder
reached for the first aid kit. He pulled
out a wad of gauze and, hard as he could, pressed it into the captain’s side as
he cradled him. Moments later, several
crewmen burst into the room carrying enormous batteries. “What’s our status, Ryder?” Patterson asked.
“If
I understand what the captain had me do, rudimentary navigation and missile
firing controls are back on line. We
temporarily jumped a trim control to roll the ship.”
“How
long has he been at this?”
“Only
a few minutes.”
“How
the heck could he have figured out those connections in that time?” Patterson shook his head in disbelief. “There’s only one like him. Knows this baby
like no one else. Let me get a few more
things connected and we might just sail smoothly out of this mess.” Patterson and another crew member focussed on
one bundle, choosing wires much more slowly than the captain had. Patterson informed the admiral when they had
nearly finished the essential connections.
“Attention
all hands. This is the control
room. We will be launching missiles and
commencing emergency evasive maneuvers in approximately two minutes. Brace yourselves.”
“This
is Patterson, sir, in circuitry. You’ll
be good to go with all, I repeat, all main navigation and ballast controls on
line in two minutes. Sonar should be up
and running now too.”
“Kowalski
confirms that. Good work, Patterson.”
“Mostly
the captain’s, sir.”
Dr.
Jamison burst into the room. “Where’s he
hurt?”
“Bullet
wound, side. No exit. Before then, I think something happened to
his ribs,” Ryder said.
“Let’s
get him to sick bay.”
“Better
stay put for now, Doc. We’re about to do
evasive maneuvers. It’ll be over one way
or the other fast,” Patterson said.
“Then
we’ll just have to ride it out here, I guess.
Not his first time doing that.”
The doctor took over compression from Ryder.
“Will
he make it, Doctor?”
“Doesn’t
look like the bullet hit an artery, but it could have nicked an organ. I won’t know anything for certain until I get
him on the table. His overall weakened
condition may be our biggest problem.
That said, captain’s a strong man.”
As
if on cue, Lee Crane’s eyes prized open.
“Seaview out of danger?”
“Soon,
captain,” Doc said optimistically.
“You
did great, Ryder,” Crane creaked out.
“Saved the boat.”
The
Doctor looked toward Ryder.
“I
only did what he told me to.”
“Missiles
launched and away. All hands, brace
yourselves for evasive maneuvers,” the intercom blasted. The sub lurched left and rolled steeply. Another lurching roll followed. An eerie silence followed and continued until
the intercom again blared. “All clear,
men. The enemy sub has been
destroyed. All stations report for damage
control duty on the double.”
“Let’s
get him to sick bay,” Dr. Jamison ordered.
Dr.
Jamison followed behind as the men carried the captain. He’d felt confident moments earlier about the
captain’s chances, but after the rush of excitement ended and the ship went
quiet, so did the captain, as if he wasn’t needed anymore.
Sick
Bay, 1320 hours
Admiral
Nelson checked in from the door to sick bay.
“How is he, Doc?”
“Can’t
say until I open him up which I’m getting ready to do. He’s got a bullet in his side that has to
come out. He’s lost at least a pint of
blood or two and he’s still weak from the last several days. Add to that two cracked ribs.”
“Keep
me posted. Ryder, come here. From what I understand, it was you who
executed the captain’s plan and saved the boat.”
“I
just helped with what he asked.”
“Correctly
and efficiently. You’re to be
commended. Would you like to join me in
the control room?”
“I’d
rather stay here for now if that’s all right, sir.”
“Sure,
sure. Come let me know how he is when
Doc is finished.”
Ryder
stayed quietly in the background after Admiral Nelson left to attend to
repairs. The surgery was brief.
“The
bullet only penetrated muscle and cracked a rib. The rib stopped it from hitting the
intestine. The skipper got lucky this
time. We’ll be struggling to keep him
in sick bay through the night. Ryder,
will you take word to the admiral?”
“Yes,
doctor.”
Control
Room, 1425 hours
Ryder
felt odd entering the control room without the captain at his side. He had never gone there alone before. He paused at the hatch. “Sir?”
Both
Mr. Morton and the admiral turned in response.
So did everyone else.
“Dr.
Jamison sent me. Captain Crane, he’ll be
fine.”
“Thank
the Lord,” Chip breathed. He went over
to Ryder, grabbed his hand, shook it firmly, released it, then patted Ryder’s
arm. “Great job helping us get out of
this mess, Ryder.”
“Yes,
we all owe thanks to you and the captain,” the admiral agreed.
Embarrassed,
Ryder fairly withered back out the door.
He headed to the captain’s cabin to prepare it for his return and to put
back the captain’s gun. Ryder took his
time, wanting to make the room perfect for the injured man. He spent an inordinate amount of effort
adjusting every book on the captain’s shelves to line up perfectly. He came across the captain’s yearbook from
Annapolis, the Lucky Bag. His curiosity
got the better of him. Ryder took the
book to the desk and laid it down.
Suddenly, his legs felt like jelly.
The realization of what he’d been
through, that he’d killed a man, began to claim its toll. Ryder collapsed into the captain’s
chair. He felt stronger there. To keep his calm, he began to flip through
the pages slowly. Lee Crane’s gleaming
face appeared on many pages, involved in talent shows, boxing, wrestling, and
more. His year book sported signatures
and well wishes galore. Ryder found a
picture of him as a freshman and marveled at his growth by graduation. He had been a pretty boy when he entered;
he’d left looking much more like the man he was now.
Ryder
continued to flip pages. He saw Mr.
Morton’s picture and entry to the captain.
“To the most honorable and loyal man I shall ever know.” Strong words.
True words, Ryder felt. Words of
pressure too, to live up to expectations like that. He didn’t envy the captain that burden. Ryder began to feel he’d crossed a line,
acted as a voyeur. He picked the book up
to return it. A newspaper clipping fell
out. An obituary. He glanced at the date. It was from winter of the captain’s sophomore
year. A fellow student. How sad.
He was uncertain what page it came from, so he randomly placed it
towards the back feeling guilty for not putting it in its proper place. He hoped the captain would not be upset. He didn’t think he would, but Ryder could
feel his emotions running wild now, all the excitement, the danger, the
horror. He had to calm down.
Ryder
headed to own cabin. He tried to lie
down for a while. He gave it up an hour
later, despite the feeling of total exhaustion that seemed to embrace him. He headed to the mess. Maybe something to drink and eat would calm
him.
Only
two other men were in the mess then.
They sat together. One of them
was Rogers. Ryder sat down at a table by
himself.
“What
can I get you?” Cookie called from the galley.
“A
sandwich, maybe some milk, please.”
“Sure
thing, kid.” Cookie seemed unusually
friendly toward him, but Ryder wasn’t certain as Cookie quickly disappeared
into the galley.
“I’ll
go back to the Navy, I will. I won’t
serve on this or any other ship with no pervert,” Rogers announced loudly. “What about you? You gonna take orders from a fag any more?”
“Stuff
it, Rogers,” the other crewman said.
Rogers
rose, glared at Ryder, and headed out the door.
Ryder
left the galley without eating. He
returned to his cabin. There he gathered
the books he had borrowed from the captain.
He carried the books to the captain’s cabin and replaced them in their
original locations. Then he sat down at
the captain’s desk, used the captain’s stationery to write a note, and left it
in an envelope on the table. Lastly, he
retrieved the gun that he earlier had returned to the captain’s drawer and
exited.
* * * * *
Sick
Bay, 1503 hours
Lee
Crane awoke to find Dr. Jamison at his side.
“Stay still, Lee. You’re doing
fine, but I don’t want you moving around too soon. I kept your sedation very light because of
other things that have been in your system the last few days.”
“Ice?” He pointed to his throat.
“Sure.”
Lee
pulled himself up to a sit. He groaned a
little.
“The
bullet hit muscle and cracked a rib. Add
two more cracked ribs on the other side.
You’ll be sore for a couple of weeks.”
“Not
bad at all considering,” Lee croaked.
Doc handed him the spoon and ice chips.
“I’ve
been replenishing your fluids and pumping nutrients in to help you get your
strength back, but don’t get any ideas about hurrying out of here.”
“Seaview’s
safe?”
“Yes,
somehow you managed to stay conscious long enough to be certain of that.”
“Where’s
Ryder?”
“I
don’t know.”
“Call
him.”
Ryder
did not respond to the intercom request.
“Phone,” Lee demanded making a phone usage gesture in case his voice
failed him. Ryder didn’t answer the
guest cabin phone either. “Kowalski.”
The
Doctor paged Kowalski to sick bay.
“Minute
in private,” Lee ordered.
Dr.
Jamison wondered what Lee Crane was up to, but knew that Kowalski would be a
voice of reason. The Doctor stepped out
into the corridor.
A
minute later, Kowalski held open the door as Captain Crane, wincing, walked through
it.
“Where
in the bloody hell do you think you are going?” Doc challenged.
“Check
on Ryder.”
“There’s
a whole crew who can check on him. It
doesn’t need to be you.”
“Does.”
“Kowalski,
stop him. Bring him back inside.”
Kowalski
faced contradicting orders. He knew he
should listen to the M.O., but something in the skipper’s face compelled him to
continue helping the skipper. “I’ll
watch over him, Doc.”
“I
suppose I’ll just wait here until you call for me, then,” Dr. Jamison huffed.
Kowalski
practically had to propel the skipper up the ladder to the top deck, and then
pick the skipper up off his knees at the top.
“The
Doc was right. You can’t do this. Let me go check on Ryder.”
“No,
stay here. I can make it.” Lee drew himself upright by pulling on
Kowalski. The stitches pulled and his
muscles stabbed in pain. Lee
nevertheless continued to stumble forward toward the guest cabin. Lee stood leaning on the door. He knew something was wrong. He decided not to knock. He opened the door, unaware that Kowalski
stood only two feet behind him.
“No,”
Lee Crane ordered firmly in a raspy voice.
Ryder
sat in a chair with the captain’s gun pointed toward his own head. His hand shook. “I’ll never be accepted here or anywhere.”
“You
will. Give it time. People need to be educated and to
adjust. They will accept you.”
“No,
they won’t. I saw that today. Even after what happened, after we saved
their lives.”
“Then
they are idiots who need to be ignored.
Don’t cave in to their stupidity.”
“Because
of people like them, I’ll never be able to live as who I really am.”
“There
are ways, and things will change. What
about your parents, what this would do to them?
The brave, smart boy they’ve raised and supported killing himself.” Lee’s voice and energy began to fade.
“The
one who’s living a lie that will devastate them?”
“You
can’t know that. You owe them a chance
to accept you as you are.”
Ryder
hesitated a few moments. “No, I’ve
decided. Please respect that and leave.”
“No. If you do it, you’ll have to do it in front
of me.”
Ryder’s
hand shook worse now.
Lee
slowly moved toward Ryder. “This is not
just about you, Ryder. I swore I would
never stand by and let something like this happen again. I can’t go through this again.” Lee, his energy sapped, stumbled forward
into the desk. His stitches ripped and
he moaned as he went down on the floor.
Kowalski
was about to run to the skipper’s aid.
Then he thought about going for Ryder’s gun arm. In the end, he didn’t move. “Help him, Ryder. The skipper needs your help.”
Ryder
put the gun down and went to the floor with the captain. “You’re bleeding again.”
“Don’t
care,” Lee said and he embraced Ryder firmly.
Kowalski saw tears in the captain’s eyes. Ryder cried too. Kowalski wanted to run for the hills. Instead, he secured the gun and called for
the doctor to come.
“Captain,
what did you mean you can’t go through this again? You’re not like me. I know that.”
“No,
I’m not, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t understand. My first year at the Academy, I became
friends with a wonderful young man much like you. People conjectured, people warned me to stay
away from him lest I be considered like him.
Wouldn’t have been the first time if it happened. I was skinny and pretty until I shot up and
filled in some.”
“What
happened to him?”
“He
was harassed endlessly. He received
anonymous threats. I tried to support
him and protect him. I even went to a
professor that I thought might help. He
told me, ‘Not in this man’s navy, not now, not any time in the near future;
he’d be better off elsewhere; if you’re a true friend, you’ll help him get
there; save yourself a boatload of trouble down the road too.’”
“Did
you tell him that?”
“No,
but maybe I should have. The harassment
and threats continued. His grades
started to decline. He considered
withdrawing, except he was overwrought about how his parents would react. One afternoon, he locked himself in his room
and shot himself. He’d slipped a note
under my door beforehand. I ran to his
room as soon as I got it. I found him,
barely alive. He died in front of me as
I waited for help to come. I swore that
day that I would never let that happen again under my watch, that kind of
treatment and abuse. I won’t tolerate it
on the Seaview or anywhere. I’ll walk
right off this boat if these men can’t learn to accept.”
By
now a small crowd had gathered outside the door, but they held back as the
captain spoke, even Dr. Jamison.
“Some
of them can’t help how they feel. They
were told that we’re an abomination to God.”
“Must
be some other God than mine, then, who hates his own creation. Moreover, I’ll pay a million dollars to the
man who shows me where Jesus commends anyone to shun or punish another living
soul. He said to judge not, to love thy
neighbor as thyself.”
“I’ll
second that,” the admiral said, “and any man aboard the Seaview who can’t live
by those principles can leave at the first port of call. Now, everyone, clear out and let the doctor
do his job.”
Dr.
Jamison looked at Lee. He was ashen, but
probably stable. “Back to sick bay,
captain. Kowalski, Frank, if you
please.”
“I’ve
got him on this side,” Ryder said.
“Ryder,
I’d venture to say you’ve got all of us on that side now,” the admiral quipped.
“Hey,
if we could hurry this up, I don’t think I’m going to be conscious much
longer,” Lee Crane murmured throatily.
“In
truth, captain, I’d be hard pressed to explain how you are now,” Dr. Jamison
said. Let’s go, men.”
The
doctor repaired Crane’s stitches. This
time, he took no chances. He sedated Lee
Crane with the goal of keeping him in bed and out of trouble for at least
twelve hours.
* * * * *
Sick
Bay, 0700 hours
In
the morning, Nelson came to visit the captain after he received word Lee was
awake.
“Seaview,
how is she, admiral?”
“She’ll
be fine, Lee.”
“Still
on emergency lighting?”
“Yes,
and oxygen conservation measures. We’re
having to rotate systems on and offline.
Consequently, we’ve shut down all nonessential areas for the time being. The entire crew, including myself, is hot
bunking, which my friend, means that you should enjoy your private bed in Sick
Bay as long as you can.”
“What’s
the status of repairs?”
“Patterson
finished what you started with the new circuitry panel, which was enough to
patch up crucial systems for a short while.
Then he used batteries which he’s tied directly into the reactor to get
more systems on line.”
“He
used them as replacement circuit breakers.
Good thinking under pressure.”
“He
had tough competition to follow with your and Ryder’s act. I expect we should make it home just
fine. Replacement circuitry panels will
be waiting for us when we arrive in Santa Barbara. So now, tell me, how you are feeling?”
“Super.”
“Maybe
you mean superior?”
Lee
couldn’t hide the smile. “A little.”
“In
the end, you’ll see I was right about the seismic activity. It went off the chart, but it barely affected
us except for throwing sonar off.”
“That’s
how you want to play it, huh? Ignore Dr.
Livsey’s delivering us into the enemy’s hands by praying upon your inability to
resist a challenge?”
“I’ll
stick with my version, yes.”
Lee
laughed. “Maybe I should too. My version hurts way more than yours.”
“I
admire how you handled the Ryder situation.
Not without a few missteps, but in principle and result, well done.”
“Glad
to hear that. Wasn’t really sure where
you fell on the spectrum of tolerance.”
“I’m
an old Navy man. Everyone worried when
the services were ordered to be integrated, but our military didn’t
collapse. If anything, it got stronger. Just took time. This will too.”
“Hopefully
not as long as that did.”
“We’re
a mighty wretched group, us humans. We
fear that which we don’t understand or personally know. So don’t overestimate us.”
“So
I’ll have to bring you along slowly?”
“I’m
long past thinking anybody, male or female, is interested in checking out my
privates, Lee. As long as decorum is
observed on my boat, all is well.”
“You
underestimate Ryder and others if you think they would act on interests toward
men not like them or not act as expected of every other man on a boat.”
“Undoubtedly
I do. If I have one major failing, it’s
that I overestimate my own abilities, and underestimate others.”
“I
gave Ryder every opportunity to break decorum if he’d wanted. I let him freely in and out of my cabin. I changed in front of him several times.”
“Why?”
“Because
Rogers accused him of breaking that decorum, and even though I didn’t believe
him for a second, he’s been on the boat for two years and I knew the crew would
give him credence. So I tested
Ryder. He passed with flying colors.”
“Yes,
well, speaking of Rogers.”
“He
was the one who drugged me.”
“He
admitted spiking your coffee with a mild diuretic the first day and your food
with the mushrooms the next day. Says
one of his buddies gave him the mushrooms as a joke a while back. He just wanted to embarrass you, he claimed,
not to hurt you. He denied having
anything to do with the poison on the third night and claims no knowledge of
Anderson and Foster’s involvement with Dr. Livsey. He admits that Anderson did prod him about
Ryder and you, encouraging Rogers to play with your food. Rogers had told Anderson about the dried
mushrooms and says Anderson really pushed him on those.”
“Do
you believe him?”
“Yes,
not that it matters. He’s done on
Seaview. He knowingly gave you a
hallucinogen.”
“All
because he’s got a problem with Ryder’s sexual orientation?”
“Yes,
even after you and Ryder saved all our hides.
He’s now sharing very tight quarters with Livsey and Anderson in the
brig. Rather sad and pathetic, isn’t
it?”
“Kind
of sums it all up.”
“We’re
heading home, Lee. This mission has
given us lots to think about on the way.”
“I
wonder how many of the crew thought that I was homosexual, or even still think
it?”
“Does
it matter?”
“No,
I guess not. Not if it doesn’t affect
how they do their jobs. Have you seen
Ryder since last night?”
“He
stayed here while Doc patched you up yet again.
Then Chip and I took turns keeping a watch on him. He got plenty of appreciation from the crew
once they all knew what had happened.
Chip and I think that some of his reaction might have resulted from killing
Foster.”
“That
was why I was so worried about him. Even
when you know it’s the right thing to do, it takes a toll. I remember my first time. I pretended it was no big deal until I got
off by myself. Spent half the night
throwing up and the other half with nightmares.
Took a week off to gather myself, but all that happened was I got more
depressed. If Chip hadn’t intervened,
I’m not sure how it would have turned out.”
“Well,
we’re keeping Ryder busy and surrounded by supporters, so not to worry. Not only that, but we’ll be keeping a close
eye on him for a long time.”
“Huh?”
“The
Institute is going to fund Ryder’s graduate studies. He’ll be invited to join us to work during
his summers and breaks, and offered a permanent job of his choice after he
finishes school, that is if he’s interested.”
“That’s
kind, although I suspect the Institute will get the better part of that
bargain.”
“You
just may be right again. Now, rest
up. We’re going out again in three weeks
and I want Seaview’s captain ready.”
“Aye,
aye, admiral. I have only one request.”
“Yes,
Lee?”
“Going
forward, I’d like an official food taster.”
The
admiral laughed as he exited. Lee
laughed too, but boy, did it hurt.
The
End