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