Mistake

by Diane Kachmar

“It’s about time you showed up,” Lee Crane remarked as he came out his front door.

Chip Morton shrugged. “We don’t have to be there for another hour.”

Lee glanced at his watch. “There could be traffic . . . ”

“. . . or an earthquake or a . . . ” Chip shot back. “You worry too much.”

“One of us has to.” Crane reached into his pocket for his car keys.

“If you’d let me drive, it would take less time to get there.”

“Or more, depending on how long it takes the sheriff’s deputy to write up the speeding ticket.”

“That won’t happen again. The Forecastle checked out the entire road, found all the spots and now we have a distant early warning system. They won’t be collecting any more money from this sub crew.”

“That’s not very neighborly.”

“Who told them to come out here and pick on us?”

“We did, after our last security breach. I’m happy if all they catch is Institute personnel exceeding the posted speed limit.”

“My! We are in command mode. Should I get in the passenger side and be quiet, sir?” Morton grinned at his friend.

Lee stared at him a moment, then his features relaxed. “I don’t like to be late,” he muttered in apology.

“We’re not,” Chip assured him.

Lee slid into the driver’s seat of his yellow and black Camaro. Morton opened the passenger side door and got in beside him. Crane turned the key in the ignition. The car did not start. Lee tried again.

“Sounds like a dead battery.” Chip cocked his head. “Did you leave your lights on?”

“No.” Lee turned to glare at him. “I never leave anything on. It was fine last night.”

“Well, it’s not now.”

“I can hear that,” Crane retorted, reaching down for the hood latch. “Why don’t you go look and see if the cable came loose or something equally as useful?”

Morton got out of the car, walked around to the front and raised the hood. The battery cables were connected. Chip came out from under the hood. “Nope. It’s not the cables. Must have had a heart attack.”

Lee looked at him in exasperation. “More likely the plates collapsed from the heat. Notice how they only die in the summer.”

“True. Want me to pull it? We can pick up a new one on the way back.”

Lee shook his head. “I’ll have it taken care of on Monday and use one of the Institute cars, until they get it done.” Crane removed his keys. “Looks like you’re driving after all.”

“We could take the Cobra.”

“Not into town.” Lee was emphatic.

Morton grinned. “What good is it, if you can’t drive it?”

“How was I to know it would become a collectible? I bought it because I liked it.”

“As long as you don’t tell me it was practical.” Chip jangled his keys. “Okay, I’m elected. Are you sure you want to ride with a lead foot?”

“Beats walking.”

Chip pulled the car hood down and latched it. “You wear your seat belt, anyway.”

Lee grinned as he shut the driver’s side door. “Self preservation.”

“I could request Riley drive us in. Wouldn’t that look impressive?”

“Only if we were in uniform. It’s daunting enough for the scouts to have us instructing them, without adding the braid.”

“If they only knew... ”

“We are there to teach, Chip, not brag.”

“I dunno, Skipper, one or two stories about you might be very instructional.”

“Will you just drive!” Lee flopped into the passenger seat of Morton’s Trans Am. “Before we really are late.”

Chip took his keys out his pocket and got into the car, trying not to smile as Lee buckled himself in. He could tell his friend was more annoyed than he was letting on. The day’s activities would bring Lee out of it. Crane was a natural teacher and would have become an instructor at the Academy, had he stayed in the Navy. The Service’s loss was the Santa Barbara Sea Scouts gain. They had a good group this year. Morton knew Lee was looking forward to the afternoon as much as he was.

Chip started the car and resisted gunning the engine to further tease his friend. She handled so well. It was easy to forget how fast he was going. He’d better be more aware now Lee was his passenger. If he did get pulled over, Crane would never let him live it down.

They passed through the outer gate checkpoint. Chip headed north on the main access road. Morton was about to point out one of the sheriffs’ hiding places, but decided not to. He didn’t particularly want his friend to get pulled over, but the Forecastle had worked hard for the information. He shouldn’t give it away without Crane doing something to earn it. Morton grinned to himself as the first place came up on their right. He’d see if Lee had it figured out. “In all the years we’ve been here, I’ve never heard of you getting ticketed,” Chip ventured. “Did I give the Forecastle a detail you had the answers to?”

Crane turned toward him. “You could say that. It’s a very simple plan.”

“How did you figure it out?”

Lee smiled. “I didn’t have to. I don’t speed.”

Morton grimaced. “Where is the challenge in that?”

“I have enough challenge in my life, Chip. I don’t need to play tag with the local law.”

“Humor me, then. Scope out that hillside and tell me where you would hide to ambush a resident lead foot.”

Crane pointed to a wooded area in front of them. “There. By the time they realize I’m lying in wait, it’s too late to slow down.”

Morton looked down at his speedometer in reflex. He was fine, if there was a sheriff down the wildlife reserve road waiting for them. They were almost past the road when an old van came barreling out from under the trees.

“Watch out, Chip, they aren’t stopping,” Lee warned.

Morton swerved to avoid the van that was intent on occupying the same space he was, gripping the wheel hard and pumping the brakes to keep the car under control. Again the van came dangerously close. Chip pressed the brakes, letting the van shoot past him. If they wanted the road that badly.... He wrenched the wheel, bringing the car to a stop. The van came to a screeching halt at an angle in front of them, blocking their way.

“Of all the idiotic...” Morton pushed the transmission lever over into park and flung his door open. “Didn’t he see us?”

“I have the tag number, Chip.” Crane leaned over to grasp his trailing arm before Morton could exit the car. “If they are high... confronting them might not be a good idea. Let them go. We’ll call in the reckless driving to the sheriff’s office after they leave.”

The side door of the van crashed open and four ski masked men with Uzis jumped out and ran toward them. “Grab him,” the lead one yelled as they rushed toward Morton’s open car door. “Kill the other one. No witnesses.”

Lee was out his door and almost clear of the car when Chip was deafened from a gun blast by his ear. Crane twisted in mid-run and went down hard behind the car.

Morton tried to fight free, knocking down the lead gunman, but the other two grabbed his arms, pinning him against the car frame. Chip felt a burning pain in his shoulder. For a moment, he thought he had been shot, but there was no gun report. Morton was falling. It didn’t hurt. The last thing Chip heard was a squeal of tires as his vision faded to black.

* * * * * *

Lee couldn't catch his breath. He could hear himself gasping in a red haze of pain, but it didn't help. The smell of hot asphalt rose up almost under his nose, nauseatingly close, as he tried to raise his head. Nothing happened. Lee forced his eyes open, but they refused to focus.

Gritting his teeth, Crane tried again. He had to get up. There was a large black blur off to his left. Chip’s Trans Am. Lee had to reach it. There was a radio in it. He could call for help. The back of his shirt felt sticky, and there was a burning throb in his right shoulder. Shot. Have to get up before I bleed to death.

Fighting back the blackness that hovered, Lee tried to push himself up from his prone position on the road. Got to – His movement sent tearing pain through his shoulder wound and then darkness blotted out everything.

Consciousness came back slowly. Someone was tugging on him. Lee tried again to get his eyes open. After what seemed like several minutes, they finally responded and Crane blinked, trying again to focus. The pain came back, a raw edged knife and he gasped, twisting away.

“Easy.” The voice was unfamiliar, coming from above him.

Lee tried desperately to see who was helping him.

“Hang on. I’ve almost got this.”

Another knife went into his shoulder. Lee cried out.

“There.”

The pain intensified.

“That’d better hold until I can get you to the Infirmary.”

Crane groped out with his hand, latching onto material, roughly the weight of his uniform shirt. He tried to pull himself closer to the voice, to bring the person into focus.

“Take it easy, Skipper. You move around too much, and you’ll start bleeding again.”

This time the voice registered. “Al?”

Finally Lee’s vision cleared. Bronowski was kneeling beside him. His uniform pants were bloodstained and the master-at-arms fingers were red.

“What -- how?”

“Not now, Skipper. I was heading into town. I saw them trying to run you off the road. I was too late to help Mr. Morton, but I got a partial plate number before they peeled out of here. You were shot. I couldn't leave you to go after them so I called it into the Sheriff’s office.”

“Th-thanks.” The hovering darkness was coming down again.

Al shook his head. “Thank me when they get the Exec back. I have to get you to Doc Jamieson. My bandage won’t last for long.”

Lee felt himself being lifted gently and tried not to twist as a white-hot poker lanced through his shoulder. The next thing he knew he was dizzily looking up at Al from the back seat of Bronowski's car. Al backed out and disappeared. A few moments later Lee heard the trunk raise, then slam shut again. Bronowski reappeared with a boat cushion and a blanket. The cushion was jammed under his legs and the blanket was draped over him. Then Al shut the door.

He slid into the front seat, and started the engine. “Hang on five minutes, Skipper, and we’ll be back on the grounds.” Bronowski put the car into gear and swung around, heading back toward the Institute. Lee heard him get on the radio, but his words all ran together. After a moment they faded.

Searing pain awakened him. Lee gasped as he was lifted from the car seat. He was surrounded by people, concerned faces all around him. Crane struggled to make them out. Jamie hovered over him, then disappeared. Jimmy had his left arm and was doing something with it. Nelson was there, looking down at him, then he wasn’t. Lee could not fight the darkness any longer and he let it blot out everything.

* * * * * *

“Shouldn’t he be awake by now?” Nelson’s worried voice carried clearly to wherever Lee was.

“Not necessarily.” Jamieson’s voice joined the Admiral's somewhere off to Crane’s right. “Even with the plasma, his blood volume is still borderline and his blood pressure could be better. Reversing shock takes time.”

Lee opened his eyes cautiously. To his surprise they focused easily, right on the IV attached to his lower left arm. He looked up. The pak was too far gone for him to tell what color it had been, so that was no help. Crane moved his head slightly and the room stayed in focus. His right shoulder was heavily bandaged. His right arm had an ace bandage wrapped around it, and was immobilized. The pain was gone. Lee shifted his head further to the left, trying to identify which Infirmary room he was in. Crane heard a gasp.

“Lee.” Nelson was beside his bed. “How are you feeling, son?”

Crane swallowed hard, then tried his voice. It came out low and tired. “I don’t know.” He shifted his gaze as the Doctor arrived on his other side. “How am I feeling?”

Jamie smiled. “Better than I hoped. You’re stabilizing. You should be back on your feet in about a week, provided you don't start bleeding again.”

“What about Chip?”

Nelson and the Doctor exchanged a look, then Jamie nodded.

“We've been contacted.” The Admiral scowled. “We set sail at 0900. I’m afraid you're out of it.”

Lee glanced up. “Why?”

Jamieson picked up his wrist. “You lost too much blood. I won’t certify you fit for duty.”

“Sick Bay has everything you have here.”

“No.” Jamie glanced at his watch. “You won’t let yourself heal. I’m sorry, Lee. I have to do what's best for you. Alex will send me daily reports on your condition. I expect you to cooperate, to take or do whatever he orders while we’re out.”

“I'll have Sparks call every day so you’ll know what we are doing.” Nelson touched his arm lightly. “I have to concentrate on rescuing Chip. It will be easier knowing you’re here, being cared for.”

Lee closed his eyes for a moment. “All right. I’ll stay home.” He gestured at his heavily bandaged and immobilized right shoulder. “I’m no good to you. I can’t write or do anything else bound up like this.” Under his eyelashes, he saw Jamieson and Nelson exchange another look.

“You rest, son. I’ll come say goodbye before we shove off tomorrow.”

Crane opened his eyes. “Get Chip back. Alive.”

“You bet.” Nelson smiled down at him. “See you in the morning.”

“Good night, sir.”

Jamie remained a few moments, giving him a quick examination. Satisfied with his findings, he marked the numbers down on the chart, then turned out the light over Crane’s bed.

Lee closed his eyes. He did have to get some sleep or he’d never get aboard the sub before they sailed without him.

* * * * * *

Chip Morton was awake. And in a plane. There was a horrible taste in his mouth, partly from being drugged and partly from his stomach rebelling at the bumpy progress of the turboprop. Chip had never liked flying. The plane continued to bounce along. Any sane pilot would have climbed up above the clouds, but who knew what airspace they were in by now.

Morton concentrated on taking shallow even breaths. Settle down. Take stock. He opened his eyes fractionally. He was handcuffed to the seat. Apparently he was too valuable to take chances with. Chip fought to keep a grimace from forming. They should have shot him and taken Lee, if a ransom was what they were after. Kidnaping him made no sense. Unless they thought he was Lee. Because he was driving? Morton usually didn’t when they were together.

Again Chip saw Lee’s shoulder turn crimson as he fell behind the car right before everything went black. Had they finished off his friend with a shot to the head after Morton had passed out? Had they left Crane to bleed to death on the little used highway? No, Lee would have dragged himself to the car and used the radio to call for help. Shoulder wounds weren’t immediately fatal. Crane wouldn’t let himself pass out until he raised the alarm.

If his kidnappers had killed Lee, thinking he was unimportant, they were in more trouble than they knew. The Seaview crew would be baying for their blood, when they contacted NIMR for ransom, if they hadn’t already. Nelson’s reaction would have been interesting to see and most likely non-translatable.

Chip closed his eyes. He should sleep until they landed wherever they were going. Seaview would be underway soon, most probably with a furious admiral in charge. No telling what Nelson would do with him gone, if Lee was dead. Randy Miller would have to handle it. The EO could, but Chip did not envy him the job.

Morton bowed his head. Please God, let Lee be alive. Crane’s life was worth more than a dead battery. Chip knew he would find out soon enough if they thought he was Lee. Normally they took Crane’s Camaro into town. Lee’s car was not the same year or model and should not have been taken for his Trans Am. Morton shook his head. Bad intel. Were the kidnappers told to take whoever came by at that hour?

Now Morton was off to who knew where with the gang who shot first and grabbed anything. He could only hope their aim was as lousy as their intel. Lee could have been left for dead, by playing dead. His friend was very good at that particular subterfuge. Crane had scared Chip that he was dead, on more than one occasion. That he would never again see the mischievous gleam that danced in the green glints of Lee’s hazel eyes when they did finally open was more than Morton could handle at the moment.

Chip let himself sag down further in the seat. He could imagine nightmare scenarios all night, but it would only sap strength he did not have. He had no idea what they had drugged him with or what was making him so nauseous, but if the plane didn’t stop bouncing . . .

Chip swallowed hard and willed himself not to give in. He had to be calm and rational until he knew for sure Lee was dead. Then his anger would have a focus. With the Seaview crew behind him, they would wipe out this opportunistic scum. Thinking about the sub, his men and their revenge did more to calm Chip’s roiling stomach than anything else. Finally, with the drone of the turboprop in his ear, Morton found the relief he was looking for in sleep.

* * * * * *

Lee was dimly aware someone was trying to rouse him. The bed felt so deep and soft. He found himself wishing they would go away. Then Crane realized he did want to wake up. It shouldn’t be this hard.

“Skipper?” His good shoulder was shaken again. “Time for a vitals check. Come on, wake up.”

It was Gene. Lee was glad his gentle insistence had penetrated. He needed to wake up. Lee let his eyes flutter open as he shifted slightly on the pillow. The Paramedic had his wrist, checking his pulse. Crane blinked a few times, but his eyes did not want to stay open. Gene wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his upper left arm and inflated it. The pressure helped Lee focus. Stay awake.

Gene looked at the reading on the cuff and shook his head. “Move something, anything,” he directed.

Lee rolled his right leg back and forth in compliance, then did the same with left one.

“Better,” Gene granted, as the cuff inflated and deflated again. “Keep moving your right leg until you’re awake enough to stay with me.”

“I’m here, Gene.” Crane was surprised to hear how tired his voice came out.

“Barely,” the paramedic answered. “So much for you needing pain medication to sleep. How’s your shoulder doing? ”

“It’s letting me know I’ve been shot if I try to move, but mostly I feel wiped out,” Lee answered. He was glad for the conversation. It was helping him stay awake.

“The blood loss,” Gene confirmed. “You’ll be a while getting over that.”

Crane nodded. “I’d like some water.”

Gene paused, made a note on the clipboard and then set it down. “Sure. Let me raise the bed.” He picked up the control.

Lee looked up at the paramedic. “Am I supposed to feel this lousy?” Crane asked as the head of his bed came up.

Gene’s gaze moved from the now empty IV in his lower left arm to the thick elastic bandage that bound his right arm to his side. “Actually, you’re not that bad, aside from the blood loss. I could start another IV if your condition warranted it, but it doesn’t. I’ll leave the venipuncture in, so Alex can give you more fluids tomorrow if he decides you need them, but you should be fine without another drip until your next vitals check at shift change. You’re barely awake, so go back to sleep. With one arm free, you can shift around in the bed until you find a spot that’s comfortable for you.”

Lee smiled. “I feel more awake since we’ve been talking. Want to do another vitals check?”

“Let me be the paramedic, Skipper,” Gene answered, amused. “First, I’ll unhook you. Then we’ll make a quick trip to the head and after that I’ll get you some fresh ice water.”

* * * * * *

Crane lay quietly, conserving his strength. Lee felt better sitting up, although it had taken some persuading for Gene to leave the bed this way after the paramedic had taken care of his needs. Telling him it made his shoulder hurt less had finally done the trick. No IV was a break Lee hadn’t expected. He could get away without leaving a leaking mess behind. All he needed now was to plan a quiet exit that did not attract Gene’s attention from his paperwork.

It was almost 0500 when Lee left his Infirmary bed. He rearranged the pillows to look like he had scrunched down under the covers to sleep. Crane didn’t have much time to make his way to Seaview as the anchor watch would start preparing to get underway at 0600.

Crane crossed the room to the closet. He gingerly opened the door to see what was left of the clothes he had come in with. The plaid shirt was sliced open from his surgery, his pants were bloodstained beyond use, but at least his keys and Institute pass cards were on a side shelf. His shoes were on the floor. He wouldn’t get very far without either of those. Lee looked down at his green scrubs. Would have to do until he could get to his cabin on Seaview. Crane picked up his shoes with his good arm, placed his keys and pass cards inside them and went back over to the bed. He sat down, stowed his keys and cards inside the elastic of his bound right arm and set about lacing up his shoes the best he could one handed.

Then he slipped very quietly out the door and down the corridor to the medical supply room. The loading dock security system was basically designed to protect the pharmacy stores’ area from break ins, not keep someone from breaking out. Lee used his key code to override the alarm on the inside so he could leave, then turned it back on again once he was outside. The chill morning air made him wish for a jacket, but it wouldn’t fit over his bound arm. Crane put his head down, flipped on the flashlight he had borrowed from Jamie’s emergency supplies and began walking in the general direction of the sub pen.

Lee knew he wasn’t strong enough to make it on foot so he headed for the Institute mail facility. The delivery golf carts were quietly charging in their outside stalls. The cart would be missed when the work day started, but they would eventually locate it and bring it back, once they started looking. He had to get aboard the sub and go to ground before he or his transportation was discovered missing. Lee sat down cross legged on the pavement in front of the golf cart, out of sight from the road. He flipped his flashlight off, waiting for the security patrol to pass. Crane didn’t have to wait long. The car rolled by, saw nothing amiss, and kept on going. It was their last pass through the area for this shift. The next car through would not fail to note the missing golf cart. Lee waited until he could not hear the car anymore. Then he got up, unhooked the charger and slid into the seat of the golf cart. Crane backed it out and was on his way.

Luckily, the sub pen wasn’t that far. He parked the golf cart behind the gate building where it wouldn’t be found readily. Crane used his key card to open the guard booth. Lee’s swipe would be recorded, but would be harder to trace through that system than if he had passed through the main entrance security gate to the sub berth. Crane knew they would track him to the sub. The key codes were uniquely his own, so there was no hiding what he had done to get here. Lee did not want to delay the sailing, but he was not going to be left behind. He walked slowly down the stone stairs and came around the corner to see his silver lady at rest at her dock. Almost home.

Crossing the gangplank, he keyed his command code to release the hatch. The boat’s computer would log him in for the sailing. The time of his entry would show up in one of Chip’s reports, but since Morton wasn’t there and Miller would be too busy running the boat, they would be long away before that report was read. Randy would have his hands full without Chip. The hatch lock snicked open. Crane turned the wheel one handed and let himself inside. He turned, closed the hatch and key coded the hatch back to the locked position. The anchor watch needed to find her as they left her.

Lee leaned against the bulkhead for a moment. The sub felt warm and welcoming after his trek through the early morning mist. Lee shook off a slight shiver. He needed to get some place they would not find him. Crane stepped over to the down ladder, wrapping his good hand around the left rail. His cabin was the length of the boat away and he couldn’t afford a fall. With a quick glance at his watch, Lee started down the ladder. He had thirty minutes to get out of sight.

* * * * * *

Lee took one last look around his cabin to insure everything looked undisturbed. Once they tracked him to the sub, this would be the first place they would check for him. The wardrobe was closed, the desk neat. He hadn’t been here, despite the fact he had changed clothes. Crane smiled grimly as he flipped the spare blanket over his good shoulder.

Time to go to ground until the boat had sailed far enough down the coast she couldn’t be turned around and brought back. As much as he longed to slip between the sheets of his bunk, Lee could not risk being found here. Crane felt warmer in the thick socks, sneakers and khaki pants he had replaced his dew soaked shoes and scrub bottoms for. There was no getting the scrub shirt off with his arm bound, so he contented himself with adding the blanket. Lee pulled the door shut behind him and went out through the hatch to the spiral stair. Walking the length of the control room to the aft part of the boat, he took the ladder down to the next deck and headed for the stores’ area, where they kept the long term nonperishable items that were needed on every cruise. Lee knew where he wanted to bed down. He’d have to see what Sharkey had ordered disbursed since his last trip through the area.

Crane entered the supply room. Some items he remembered from his last trip were indeed gone, but there were enough new boxes for this cruise to provide sufficient cover. Everything was lashed and netted in preparation for the sailing. The nets worked, but they left a gap between the hull and the supplies.

Lee undid one of the knots on the last row of boxes. He slackened the rope, then redid the knot so the net remained tied, but the narrow gap behind it was now wide enough for him to slip behind the box and fit himself to the curve of the deck. Crane slid in sideways with his bound right arm first, easing it awkwardly past the box edge. Once behind the curtain of boxes Lee spread his blanket out flat, then he laid down. He rolled over carefully until the blanket was all around him. He hitched, trying to cradle his sore shoulder into a more comfortable position, but the dull throb continued. The taped down venipuncture in his left arm wasn’t helping any, either.

After checking that nothing showed on either side of the netted boxes, Crane leaned his head against the heavier of the two boxes, then curled into himself to be as small as possible. Up against an outer bulkhead, he’d know when the boat got underway. The sound of far off bells announced anchor watch. Lee let the sounds of his boat waking up lull him to sleep.

* * * * * *

“What do you mean he's not here!” Nelson turned to the Doctor in disbelief.

Jamieson raised a placating hand. “Sometime between his last bed check and the change of shift, Lee went ONI AWOL on us. Gene never heard a thing.”

“No one ever does,” Nelson granted. “Any idea where Lee went?”

“My best guess would be Seaview.”

“Have you called them?”

“First thing. If Lee is there, he tucked himself out of sight before the first watch arrived. No one aboard has seen him.”

“Are they looking for him?”

“Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“What do you want me to do, Will?” Harry leveled his gaze on the Doctor. “Drag him off the boat kicking and screaming or let him go with us, since Lee obviously doesn’t want to be left behind.”

“Obviously,” Jamieson echoed, rolling his eyes. “I thought he gave in too easily last night.”

“What will happen if we take him?”

“I don’t know. It depends on how much damage he did getting himself down to the sub. Lee was relatively stable last night, resting, but any kind of strenuous activity could easily send him into shock again. In his weakened condition, it could be fatal. He’ll pass out where none of us can find him, his heart will stop beating, and that will be that.”

“Then we need to find Lee as quickly as possible.”

“That’s what I’m advising.”

“And if he won’t come out until we sail...” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Then we sail.” Jamieson threw up his hands. “I can’t treat Lee until he’s found and he isn’t about to let us find him until we are far enough out to sea to where we won’t turn back!”

“Does Lee know he’s at risk for shock? I mean, will he try to stay warm and quiet? It might help me locate him faster.”

Will paused. “Lee’s certainly been lectured on that point. Despite his selective hearing on most occasions, I believe he knows his limitations. Particularly when it comes to hypothermia, since so much of what Lee does puts him at constant risk for that. Do you want to start our search by looking for a blanket edge hanging out of a ventilator shaft?”

Nelson almost smiled. “Lee would never be that careless. Are you ready to go? Do you need to take anything from here with you for him, now he’s aboard?”

Jamieson walked over to one of the cabinets. He looked at several vials, finally selecting three. Leaving them on the counter, Will crossed the small area and pulled out a small kit from the storage drawers underneath. He unzipped it, gathered up his vials, put them in the kit and zipped it closed. “Precaution,” Will stated. “I hope I don’t have to use any of these.”

Nelson nodded his understanding. “I’ll do what I can to speed our departure. Take anyone from the crew you need to look for him.”

“Thanks. I may borrow the Forecastle.”

“Exactly who I was going to recommend.”

* * * * * *

The rocking motion brought Lee awake. He didn’t quite remember where he was at first until a sudden pitch to the right almost slammed him into the bulkhead. He managed to stop himself by bracing with a leg before his sore shoulder connected, but the rock back threw his left arm into the boxes and jostled the venipuncture. The pain from that cleared away the last of his grogginess.

Seaview was at the breakwater, the rocking was her bow cleaving the waves as she left the shelter of the sea cliffs and made her way into open water. In another ten minutes he would know if they were heading south or north. So they had sailed. Lee glanced at his watch. Early.

Crane was cold, despite the blanket. Lee felt more drained than rested and slightly light headed. He’d probably be back on an IV by now if he had stayed in the Infirmary. Lee looked at his watch again. It was too soon; he could not let himself be found until they had sailed beyond an easy return. There was no guarantee when he did show himself that Nelson wouldn’t use the flying sub to return him to Santa Barbara, but the Admiral might not insist he go, now he was aboard. Lee dismissed the thought. He’d worry about that after he was found. Crane was about to slip out from behind his boxes to change location when he heard voices.

“I tell you, Stu, the Chief is grasping at straws. I packed those nets. There’s not enough room left when everything is stowed for Malone, much less someone as tall as the Skipper, not without rearranging what I did,” Patterson groused as he came into the room.

“You know that and I know that, but we still have to inspect the nets and report back to the Chief he isn’t there,” Riley retorted.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Lee pressed up against the boxes, drawing his blanket tightly around him and stretching out with his feet to brace against the bulkhead. Nelson knew he was here and had sailed anyway. Now the crew was searching for him.

“This one’s secure.” Riley reported as Lee heard the twang of a rope being tested. A few moments later there was another twang and Patterson noted that box was undisturbed.

Lee relaxed slightly. They were checking lashings and his boxes were lashed. Crane made himself very still. The ratings continued to pull on all the ropes until they had checked the entire compartment.

“No one has messed with any of these, they are exactly as I left them,” Patterson concluded. “What a waste of time.”

“At least it’s off the list. On to the next compartment?”

“Okay.” Patterson’s footsteps retreated. “Why are we even looking? If the Skipper doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be anyplace we can get to this easily. They need to send Malone through the repair accesses. That’s where I’d go.”

“I think that’s plan B,” Stu offered as they went out the door.

Lee let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. He felt himself start to tremble and put his left hand against the boxes to steady himself. He could stay here, now they had eliminated this area from their search, but Crane knew he needed some place warmer. The cold was seeping into his bones. His condition would only deteriorate if he remained here. Lee didn’t have much energy as it was. Another shiver shook him, despite his attempt to stop it. He had to move. Crane pushed the netting aside and eased out awkwardly from behind the boxes. He had better use the access hatch before Malone began searching or he’d be cut off from his only escape route.

Lee wrapped the blanket around his upper body, knotted the corners so it would stay put, and walked over to the repair access. Spinning the wheel, Crane opened the hatch and stepped over the sill into Seaview’s inner workings. He knew where he had to go. Lee hoped he had enough strength left to get there as he spun the hatch closed over him and began to crawl determinedly forward.

* * * * * *

“You know the sooner we find him, the happier everyone is going to be,” Kowalski handed Malone his right knee pad. “No one knows those access shafts better than you.”

Malone looked up from his preparation. “The Skipper does.”

Kowalski grinned. “Yeah, but he’s not supposed to. That’s your job.”

Boots shook his head. “Most of the time he lets me do the repair, once he’s found the trouble.”

Ski placed his hand on Malone’s shoulder as Boots worked the pad up his leg to his knee. “You saw Doc’s face. Wherever the Skipper’s hid himself, you have to find him. He needs to be in Sick Bay.”

“What if he won’t come?”

“You’ll have to persuade him.”

Malone grimaced as he slid off the bunk. “Easier said than done.”

“You’ll find a way.”

Malone walked over to the wall and began undogging the access plate. Ski knelt next to him and helped set the plate aside. “If you need help moving him, get on the radio and give us the nearest frame number. We’ll have a med team to the closest access in no time.”

Malone cocked his head at him. “Do you think the Skipper’s passed out somewhere and that’s why he hasn’t turned up?”

Ski frowned. “I hope not. With a bullet hole in his shoulder he can’t move very far or very fast, so I’m betting he’s gone to ground. You only have to figure out where.”

“Some place quiet. Out of the way. Not much traffic. Lower deck aft, probably.”

Kowalski handed him a radio.

Malone clipped it into his belt. “I’ll hike down to the end of this access, see what I find and then report in.”

Ski thumbed his own radio. “I’ll be right here, waiting.”

* * * * * *

Lee stopped his upward climb when he heard voices. It was hard to tell from the echoes in the access tube, but it sounded like it was below him. Lee quickly pulled himself up the remaining rungs to the higher deck and left his exposed position on the access ladder for the nearest cover. He slid into the ventilator shaft as the voice echoed up the ladder.

“Still no sign of him, Ski. I’ll continue forward until I reach the end of this deck access and then check in again.”

Lee waited until Malone moved off. That was too close, but he was finally on the right deck and his journey would soon be over. His cabin was the last grille before the forward bulkhead. Crane doggedly crawled along, ignoring the constant throb in his right shoulder and the protests of his overused left arm from dragging himself up the ladder. Lee knew he needed to lie down and rest, but if he did he’d never get up again. Crane continued to push his unwilling body along. Almost there.

It was a relief to kick the grille open and slide down the wall feet first. Crane let his knees buckle as he came down so he landed in a safe, if ungainly, heap. Lee sat for a moment trying to steady down, swaying slightly with the effort. Made it. There was only one thing left to do. Lee grabbed the edge of the bunk, levered himself up with his good arm and staggered over to the cabin door to lock it. That would give him a warning of anyone trying to get in. Having checked here once, he should be safe from discovery until the boat reached a point where it didn’t matter anymore. They were heading south at flank. Nelson was losing no time getting to the rendezvous. Lee only had to stay out of sight for a few more hours.

Crane came back to his bunk and sat down heavily. At last he could get warm and lay his head down. He kicked off his sneakers, undid his blanket, and crawled under the sheets fully clothed. Crane spread the second blanket over himself to stop his shivering and immediately felt warmth enfolding him. Lee dropped his head onto the pillow, closed his eyes and surrendered to the overwhelming tiredness.

* * * * * *

Kowalski made his way along the corridor of A deck to meet Malone. It was discouraging that Boots had almost covered the entire boat and still hadn’t found the Skipper.

Malone had been conscientiously checking every cul de sac. Which meant Crane had either stayed on the move or gone to ground somewhere else on the boat. Ski paused as he walked by the Skipper’s cabin. Maybe he should get a jacket out of the wardrobe for Crane once they did find him.

He stopped and closed his hand around the door knob. It didn’t turn. Kowalski tried again. The cabin door was locked. Ski stared at the door a moment. He had been in there less than an hour ago and he hadn’t locked the door when he left. Someone had.

Kowalski thumbed his radio. “Malone.”

“Yeah, Ski.”

“If I’m not at the hatch when you get there, call Sharkey.”

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know yet. Keep looking. I’ll call you back when I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

Kowalski turned around, walking back along the corridor to the Admiral’s cabin. He knocked to announce himself. Ski opened the door and went in when he was told to enter.

Nelson looked up from his departure paperwork, surprised. “You have something to report?”

“I’m not sure, sir. Do you have a key to the Skipper’s cabin?”

“I should.” The Admiral began rummaging in his desk drawer. “Why do you want it?”

“His cabin door is locked.”

Nelson stopped. “It is? Since when?”

“I don’t know, sir, but it wasn’t locked an hour ago.”

“Think our bird has come home to roost?”

Kowalski grinned. “Makes sense, sir.”

Nelson renewed his search efforts and finally fished out a ring with keys on it. “Has to be one of these.” The Admiral stood up with the ring in his hand. “Let’s go.”

The third key Nelson tried opened the door. The Admiral pushed it open and went in.

Kowalski followed him. The Skipper was barely visible under a haphazardly arranged blanket that, judging from the fresh stains on it, had been dragged the length of the submarine. Ski smirked.

Nelson turned back to him. “You were right.”

Ski moved to the side of the bunk and lightly laid two fingers under Crane’s ear to check his pulse, counting silently. “You going to call Doc?”

The Admiral shook his head. “I don’t want the whole crew to know Lee’s condition. I’ll stay with him. You go down and bring Doc here.”

“Aye, sir.” Kowalski strode from the cabin, heading for the stairs. He entered Sick Bay in record time a few moments later.

Jamieson rose to his feet at the sight of him. “You found Lee?”

Kowalski nodded. “Passed out in his cabin bunk. His pulse is barely above what could be considered shock, but you can fix that, right?”

“Watch me.” Jamieson picked up Frank’s paramedic response kit from the floor.

* * * * * *

Nelson moved away as Jamieson sat down on the edge of the bunk. He dropped into the wheeled desk chair to watch as the Doctor examined Lee. Crane did not stir as Will pulled the covers off him to his waist and did a quick vitals check. The Doctor was not happy, muttering under his breath, but it did not affect his efficiency in taking his readings. Will pitched the soiled top blanket to the floor and directed Kowalski to go fetch the clean one off Morton’s bunk next door.

Jamieson lifted Crane’s left arm and swore. Nelson came halfway out of the chair to help, but Doc waved him off. “It’s okay, Harry. You can’t abuse a venipuncture this way and expect it to still be useable. His arm will be several shades of purple from the blood that leaked in a few hours.” The Doctor shrugged. “It doesn’t really hurt, but it looks horrible. Maybe I won’t tell Lee what caused it when he wakes up and let him try and explain to me what he did to himself.” Jamieson grinned evilly as he deftly peeled the tape back, removed the port and needle from Crane’s lower arm and placed a large adhesive bandage over the puncture.

“That’s cruel, Will.” Harry couldn’t help a smile, however.

Nelson eased back into the chair as Kowalski came in with the blanket.

“Over his legs, Ski,” Doc said. “We’ll worry about clean clothes later.”

Kowalski draped the extra blanket over the bedding covering Crane’s lower half, tucking all three pieces in around him. Lee did not rouse, which was not like him. His slack features were pale. Nelson made himself relax in the chair. Will was here. He’d take care of him.

“Good.” Jamieson surveyed the wrap job. “Now take the portable IV stand out of the duffel and set that up.”

Jamieson began to assemble another IV port as Kowalski worked on the stand and then deftly inserted it into the wrist of Crane’s bound right arm. Then he lifted a bag of fluids up onto the hook Kowalski had moved next to the bed, attached the trailing tubing into the port and opened the drip. “Let’s see if that helps.”

“Is he all right?” Harry asked.

“He will be eventually. Lee’s exhausted. He tried to do too much too soon. Thankfully, we found him before he went into shock.” Jamieson shrugged. “The bullet wound is not that serious, but the blood loss is. Lee has to stay off his feet, out of ventilator shafts and stop traipsing off in the middle of the night to rescue his best friend!”

Nelson leaned back in the chair. “Is that all?” he asked, amused.

Jamieson grinned. “Yeah, I’m done. Let me have him for twenty-four hours, so he’ll be walking wounded by the time we arrive in Central America. Lee will not go on the rescue, but should be well enough to monitor the exchange on the radio from here.”

“Twenty-four hours. You’re going to sedate him then?”

“It’s the only way I can insure Lee will get the rest he must have.” Will looked over at Nelson. “I don’t know what else to do. Left to himself, he won’t stay down.”

Harry leaned forward. “I may need him, with Chip gone. Lee wants to be here. You saw what happened when we tried to leave him behind. How do you think he’ll react to being drugged most of the trip down?”

“Not well,” Jamieson admitted. “He brought it on himself.”

“What will happen if you don’t knock him out?”

“Lee will wake up in a couple of hours and insist on taking command of the boat.”

“Do I let him?” Harry asked quietly.

“No. It’s much too soon. Randy is perfectly capable of getting us to Central America.”

“Say I give you a day to get Lee functional. Can I bring him into the plan then, as long as he stays on the boat?”

“Lee won’t want to stay,” Jamieson replied.

Nelson smiled. “I’m still in charge around here. He’ll stay. Or he’ll be turned back over to you and you’ll sedate him. Having had a taste of what he can have, I think Lee will choose to stay awake for the exchange, don’t you?”

Jamieson looked over at him in surprise. “You’d do that?”

“In a heartbeat,” Harry promised.

Will picked up Crane’s left wrist and checked his pulse. “The IV is helping. Give me twelve hours, let me see where he is. We’ll talk again after dinner about what Lee might be able to do tomorrow.”

“Works for me.” Nelson rose from the chair. “Shall I tell Sharkey that Kowalski is on steward duty here until lunch time?”

Jamieson nodded. “Yes. Let’s do that. Ski, why don’t you close that vent for starters?” Will gestured at the half-open grille on the far wall. “Then you can put that bilge blanket in the laundry.”

Kowalski gathered up the discarded blanket from the deck on his way back. “Someone should radio Malone to quit searching the access hatches. He was almost done anyway.”

“Sharkey can button that up. I’ll let Randy know what’s going on,” Nelson replied. “One of you call me when Lee wakes up.”

“We will,” Jamieson promised.

* * * * * *

“Wake up, Capitaine.” Morton was nudged none too gently. “I let you sleep through breakfast, but I cannot let you miss lunch as well. After all, we promised Admirale Nelson to return you in good shape. Rice and beans. Eat up.”

A metal plate clanged down on the small table next to his ratty bed. Chip remembered being dumped in it right before dawn. The drug wasn’t completely out of his system, but he felt more like himself than the last two times he was awake. They had grabbed him up the second time, even though he was still half-asleep and showed him the outdoor toilet. The stench had made his eyes water. They had cuffed his hands immediately, then brought him back to be once again chained to the bed. He was hungry. Chip sat up with an effort. He would two-hand the spoon. Might as well adapt. It looked like he would be here for a while.

* * * * * *

“Easy, Skipper.” A warm hand landed lightly on his good shoulder. Lee blinked, trying to wake up enough to see who it was. The crushing tiredness was gone but he was afraid to move and start his shoulder throbbing again. Crane forced his eyes open.

“Welcome aboard, sir.” Kowalski was grinning down at him and couldn’t quite get his voice neutral enough.

Lee gazed up at the sonar man for a long moment, then gave Ski a rueful smile. “How’d you get in here?”

Kowalski’s grin widened. “The Admiral had a key.”

“He would,” Lee muttered, half to himself. “Are you here as a corpsman or a guard?”

“It’s my turn in the steward’s rotation,” Ski answered. “You could do with a bit of a cleanup and the clothes you are wearing are due for laundry.”

Crane shook his head. “Nice try. Now tell me why you’re really here.”

“Doc is worried you’ll try to get up and fall flat on your face. He said your shoulder wound has been through enough today.”

“Jamieson was here?”

“Three times. And the Admiral twice.”

“Great.”

“They’ve decided you’re staying aboard, if that helps any.”

“Still headed south?”

“Last time I checked.”

“And your orders are?”

Kowalski straightened. “I assess your condition. If you can stand, I remove all your bandages, help you shower and dress you in clean issue for your next med check. After you are examined and rebandaged, I serve you lunch. You feel up to me doing any of that, Skipper?”

Crane thought a moment. “A shower would be nice,” he answered. “Let’s get through that, Ski. Then we’ll see about the rest of it.”

“I don’t think lunch is negotiable.”

Lee grimaced. “I’ll cross that Jamie when I get there. Now help me sit up so I don’t fall out of the bunk.”

“Aye, sir.” Kowalski moved closer, extending his arm.

Crane grasped it and moved to the edge of his bunk, waiting for the tilting to begin. He felt weak, but not dizzy. The cabin stayed still, much to his surprise. A fresh bandage was on his right wrist that hadn’t been there before and his left arm was now bandaged where the port had been. Lee raised his left hand. “What happened to my IV?”

“Which one?”

The reply answered one of his questions. “Three times, you said.”

Kowalski shrugged. “Busy morning.”

“All right, Ski, let’s see if I can stand.” Crane wrapped his hand around Kowalski’s steadying arm once again and got up onto his feet. He was a little wobbly, but nothing buckled. Lee eased back down to a sitting position on the bunk and let go of the sonar man.

Kowalski adjusted the pillow against the head of the bed. “Lay back, Skipper. I’ll have those shoulder bandages off in no time.”

Crane twisted, brought his feet up and reclined, hitching over on the bed, so that Ski could sit facing him and unwrap the ace bandage that bound his shoulder to his side. Ski unwound the yards of elastic until his arm was free, then pulled the scrub shirt off over his head gently, revealing his wound dressing. Ski frowned at the dried blood on the gauze pad. “Sit tight a minute.” The sonar man got up and walked over to an open duffel on the floor by his desk and came back with it, lifted it up onto the bed, and took out a couple of gauze squares. Ski laid them down, then carefully removed the old dressing.

Lee looked over at his stitched up wound. At least it wasn’t bleeding now.

Kowalski grimaced in sympathy. “Bet that hurt.”

“I’ve felt better,” Lee replied quietly. “I can undress myself. Go turn on the shower.”

Ski stood up. “The usual temperature?” He gathered up the unused bandages and put them back in the medical bag.

Crane smiled. “As long as you’ve been my steward, has that ever changed?”

Kowalski grinned. “No, Skipper, it hasn’t.”

“Carry on, Ski.”

“Aye, sir. Don’t you dare move until I get back.”

Lee sighed. “I’ll wait for you, promise. I don’t want to fall over, either.”

* * * * * *

Lee stepped out of the shower, then stopped when he realized Jamieson was sitting in his desk chair.

“Feeling better?” The Doctor asked.

Lee considered tossing the half damp towel in his left hand at Jamie, but checked the impulse. He couldn’t throw left handed so he’d only miss. Crane went back to drying his hair with the towel instead.

“I heard the shower and brought dry scrubs for Ski. Yours are on the bunk. Do you need any help dressing?”

“No. My shoulder hurts but I can move around without keeling over. I have you to thank for that, no doubt.”

Jamie leaned back in the chair. “A little. If you’d stop pushing past your limits, you’d stay conscious.”

Lee dropped the towel onto the bunk and picked up the scrub bottoms. “Sick list?”

“For the time being. Put those on and I’ll bandage your shoulder.”

Kowalski came out of the shower and spied the scrubs folded on the desk. “Thanks, Doc. Got a little damp in there.”

“I want you to run down to the Galley as soon as you’re dressed. Lunch should be ready.”

Ski shrugged into the scrub top. “Let me get my shoes back on and I’m out of here. Need a hand before I go, Skipper?” Ski dropped his wet jumpsuit and the used towels into the laundry bin.

Crane shook his head, tugging the scrub bottoms up with his one good hand. “I’ll manage. Go on.”

Kowalski laced his sneakers and walked out the door.

Jamieson stood up. “Let me do the socks. You’ll end up on the floor if I don’t.”

Lee scowled, but laid down on the bed. “I know. Keep the extremities warm.”

Jamie bent over him, a tube of antibiotic cream in his hand. “This may sting a little.” He coated the stitches liberally, put the tube back into the bag that Ski had left on the bed and tore open a large square bandage. “You’ll heal,” he said, taping the bandage down. “Now about those socks.”

Lee extended one foot and then the other, after which Jamieson helped him put on the scrub top.

“Shower tire you out?”

“Not really,” Crane replied. “I feel more weak than tired.” Jamie began wrapping a fresh elastic bandage around his right arm. “Do you have to do that?” Lee asked, as the doctor bound his arm to his side with the rest of the bandage.

“Yes. It’s for your own protection. With your arm free, you could pull apart the stitches closing your wounds.”

“It throws me off balance.”

“Lean the other way.”

“Terrific,” Crane muttered. “A permanent list to port. That’ll look good.”

Jamieson smiled. “A couple of inches lower in a more major artery and you wouldn’t be here. Be thankful you still are.”

“I can’t wear my shirt. I can’t write. I probably can’t even manage a fork left handed!” Lee rolled his eyes.

“You can use a comb with your left hand. I’ve seen you do it. And eat a sandwich. If you do, I’ll let you hold something else tomorrow, maybe even the mic in the control room.”

“Is that a threat or a promise, Jamie?”

“Both,” the Doctor replied, stepping back. “Go ahead, finish dressing so you’re ready for lunch. Today you eat and rest. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

* * * * * *

Nelson knocked on Lee’s cabin door and entered, not realizing it was still lunch. Crane had slept much longer than Will’s original estimate. Lee stiffened as Harry’s gaze fell on the half-eaten sandwich in his hand and quickly took another bite. Nelson fought not to smile.

“He behaving himself?” Harry asked Will.

“For the most part,” the Doctor replied. “He can stay.”

“Sharkey was so looking forward to taking out the flying sub...”

Lee sat up straighter in the bed, a look of dismay crossing his features.

Nelson stepped over to him. “Relax, son,” he said gruffly. “After what you went through to get on board, I won’t send you home.” Harry reached out to grasp Crane’s good shoulder lightly. “You should have asked to come. I might have said yes.”

Lee looked at him, sidelong. “Or told me no, again, only louder.”

Nelson laughed. “True. You ask next time. Don’t ever do this again or I will take action.” Harry dropped his hand.

“Sir, I - ”

“Chip is your friend. I understand that, but you can’t help him if you’re dead.”

“I wasn’t about - ”

“Tell him, Will,” Harry ordered softly.

“If you had gone into shock from over exerting yourself anytime during the four hours we couldn’t find you, you’d be dead now. By all rights you should be, pulling a fool stunt like that. What were you thinking?” Jamieson scowled.

“They’ll kill Chip once they find out he’s not the Captain.”

“And who’s going to tell them?” Nelson asked quietly.

“Look, that kidnap was meant for me! I was supposed to be driving.”

“Obviously, they weren’t given a photo or any description of you. They took him and called in their ransom demand. They want our sonic stunner for the return of Captain Crane.”

“You knew they grabbed Chip by mistake?”

“That was the main reason I decided to leave you home, aside from the fact you were in no shape to be on the cruise.”

“They said no witnesses. Chip saw me get shot. For all he knows, I’m dead.”

“You would be, if Bronowski hadn’t arrived to scare them off when he did.”

“You don’t want them to find out they kidnaped the wrong guy... ” Lee’s expression turned studious. “You didn’t want me here to give that away.”

“But here you are.” Nelson smiled down at his Captain. “We’ll find a use for you. I know Randy would much rather be Acting XO than Acting Captain.”

“We’ll decide that tomorrow,” Jamieson replied emphatically.

Crane took another self-conscious bite of his sandwich, swallowed it down and looked at the both of them. “What is it you aren’t telling me?”

“There’s one problem with the stunner that they couldn’t find out from stealing our patent application. It doesn’t work,” Harry admitted. “At least not the way the design says. If they find that out, they may kill Chip in retaliation. They were set on killing you for merely being there.”

“Then they can’t find out until after the exchange.” Lee looked up at him intently. “Do you have any ideas? Can I help?”

“Yes, I do – ” Nelson answered.

“No, you can’t,” Jamieson broke in. “The next activity you are scheduled for is a nap!”

“Jamie! I’ve been asleep for hours! Why can’t I – ”

“Because your Doctor said so.” Harry put some steel into his voice. “You’re here on his sufferance. I won’t send you home, unless he orders it. It’s for your own good.”

Lee scowled. “I’m not tired.”

“Then finish your lunch,” Jamieson prompted.

Crane eyed the remaining quarter of his sandwich distastefully, then took another bite.

“I’ll make you a deal, Skipper,” Will offered. “If you try to sleep for at least an hour, I’ll have the schematic of the stunner delivered up here. You can read it in bed until dinnertime. How’s that?”

“If that’s what it takes, all right.” Crane finished off the sandwich. “Which one of you is tucking me in?”

“That’s Ski’s job,” Will answered. “He’s staying.”

Nelson could see Doc struggling to remain stern. “I’ll be in the lab.” Harry turned and walked out the door, carefully keeping his features impassive until the door closed behind him. Then he laughed softly. He had a stunner to get working, but it was reassuring to see that some things were getting back to normal.

* * * * * *

Will Jamieson looked down at his sleeping patient and smiled, wondering if he should attempt to slide the stunner schematic out from under the lax fingers. Lee may have been willing to help the Admiral, but apparently his body had other ideas. Lee’s blood bruised left arm lay over most of it and removing the blueprint would be problematical. The last thing Will wanted was to startle Crane awake and lose all the good rest of the afternoon.

Lee would be annoyed when he did wake up. Will knew how close Crane had pushed shock. Lee had to have slept for most of the time he was missing in whatever hiding place he had found. It was the only explanation for the stronger than warranted vital signs he had recorded during his first exam. Doc sighed. His best patient was finding more and more ways to cheat. He reached carefully for the pulse point in Crane’s left wrist. Taking his readings would normally rouse the Skipper. Will continued to take vitals with no reaction.

Doc was lifting his stethoscope free when Crane finally stirred, rolling his head in Will’s direction. His eyes fluttered open.

“What is it, Ski? Dinner?” Lee asked softly.

“Kowalski did more than six, so he’s off duty. Malone will serve you dinner and stay, if you want him to.”

Crane hitched up on his left elbow, causing the schematic to crinkle. The noise drew

Lee’s attention down to his now livid purple-splotched arm. His brow furrowed. “Did I fall out of the bunk?”

Will grinned. Lee was definitely on the mend, but still needed some time.

”No, you were out of it by the time I was called here. Did you get hung up in any of the access or ventilator shafts while trying to elude us?”

Crane looked up from his arm. “Not that I remember. I was careful, but it was hard with only one arm. Your wrap job didn’t help my balance any!”

“It wasn’t supposed to,” Jamieson granted. “What did you have in the arm you were making so much use of?”

“A needle. Hurt like the devil every time I moved it.”

“Because you weren’t supposed to be moving it.”

“Oh.”

“And if you stick a needle in a vein, what does it do?”

“Bleed.” Crane dropped his gaze. “I was so one track on getting here. I never thought about what else might happen.”

Will laid a soft hand on his errant Captain’s shoulder. “It only looks bad. The blood leakage will fade from purple to yellow as it reabsorbs. Eventually.”

“Swell. If you’d unbind my shoulder, I could wear a khaki shirt. That would cover most of the sideshow freak.”

“The men know you were shot. Why hide it?”

Lee leaned back on his pillow. “It reinforces that I’m wounded and shouldn’t be here.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jamieson replied. “So I’m taking care of you. I’ll make my decisions based on what you need, not what you want. Now quit arguing and get ready for dinner.”

Crane swung his legs down so he was sitting up in the bunk. “If I go to the control room tomorrow, it won’t be in this rig.”

“No one said you’ll be in the control room tomorrow. If I don’t like your vitals, you’ll spend the day in your bunk.”

“You promised I could help the Admiral.”

“If you are up to it, I may release you to his lab, but barring anything happening to the boat, Randy will remain in command until we arrive. Meet me halfway, Skipper.”

Crane smiled ruefully. “Or you yank my ticket.”

Will nodded. “I’m on your side. We’re not doing anything but cruising south. Let yourself heal, so you can help once we get where we’re going.”

“I know.” Lee sighed. “Be reasonable.”

Jamieson laughed. “I’ll settle for less stubborn. Reasonable is asking way too much. In your delicate condition, that is.”

The corners of Crane’s mouth twitched and then he grinned. “Okay, Jamie. You’re in charge.”

“You should find it easier to stay awake tomorrow. Provided you eat dinner and get a full night’s sleep. Do you want something for the pain?”

“It’s only a dull ache right now. I’ll have Malone put a pillow down so I wouldn’t be able to roll over onto it during the night. When is he coming?”

Jamieson glanced at his watch. “In about 15 minutes. Want some help getting ready?”

Lee shook his head. “Only way to get used to this rig is to do it myself, but you’re welcome to hang around and make sure I don’t fall over.”

“I can handle that.”

* * * * * *

“Admiral?”

Nelson looked up to find Lee Crane in the door of his lab. He smiled. “Out on parole?”

Crane grimaced as he came in, followed by Kowalski. Ski had a tray with two steaming mugs on it. “My steward suggested we not show up empty handed, that you might like a break.” Lee eased down onto the other lab stool. “He’ll take back anything you’re done with and report I made it here unscathed.” Crane sounded resigned.

Harry accepted a mug of coffee from the sonar man, who was keeping his eyes downcast and his features poker blank. “Thanks, Ski. I’ll take it from here.”

“Aye, sir.” Ski put the other mug by Crane’s left hand and began clearing away the remains of Nelson’s breakfast. He quickly filled his tray and departed.

“You started early,” Lee observed, sipping slowly from his mug. The tantalizing sweet smell of chocolate rose from it.

“Yes, I had an idea about the sound frequency that Will thought might work.”

Crane raised an eyebrow. “Jamie doesn’t like weapons.”

“The whole idea is to incapacitate, so we were discussing what sounds had what effect. We concluded that a lower frequency that disrupts the inner ear and makes one incapable of standing up was a far better choice than a high frequency sound that drives them to their knees in pain, but still leaves them capable of reacting. The latter is easier, but we both feel the former would be more effective in a rescue. I’m trying to find a frequency I can sustain easily that will give us our desired result. I’ve been analyzing my last test.”

“And?”

Nelson shook his head. “Takes too long to work. Jamieson gave me the parameters I need to achieve inner ear disruption. I’m getting closer but I still need to fine tune.”

“You tested it on yourself?”

“No.” Nelson pushed his clipboard over to where Crane could read it easily. “Riley agreed to be Will’s guinea pig. Doc recorded the exact sine wave I need to reproduce. The printout with the blue tab. Compare it to what I printed out. You’ll see it’s close, but I don’t have the calibration yet. A few more adjustments should do it.”

Lee frowned. “We’ll know when you fall off the stool?”

Harry laughed. “No, that’s not going to happen. I’m wearing ear plugs. As will the rescue party. A weapon that takes out both sides is useless. Here. You’ll need these if you’re staying.” Nelson pushed a pair of ear plugs from in front of him over to Crane. “If anything happens to you we can forget getting you paroled again, and I do want you here.”

“I won’t be much help,” Lee admitted. “Not with my right hand bound. I asked Jamie not to immobilize me and he refused. He said I’m not ready to use it yet.”

Harry glanced over at his Captain. “Then I won’t give you any right-handed work.”

“Aye, sir.” Lee finally smiled. “You don’t really need my help, do you?”

Nelson raised a hand. “Got you sprung, didn’t it?”

Crane looked down at the floor. “Jamie knows I’d go stir if he kept me cooped up any longer.”

“Tests go faster with two. Let’s prove it to him.”

“I’m more than ready.”

* * * * * *

“That should do it.” Nelson closed the casing. “Time for the earplugs. Since we won’t be able to talk to each other, you watch me carefully. Don’t remove yours until you see me take out mine.”

Lee reached for the plugs in front of him with his left hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll sit here and let you run whatever tests you need to.” Crane inserted the plug into his left ear without much difficulty. He then reached over his bound shoulder to insert the right one, twisting his head down to get it in.

Nelson wanted to help him, but checked the urge. The only thing that Lee hated more than being injured was being thought incapable of doing anything for himself when he was. Hard as it was to watch Crane struggle, it was better to let him.

Lee’s hand came down and he gave Nelson a circled finger ok signal. Harry inserted his own ear plugs and fired up the machine. He let it run only long enough for the frequency to be recorded for measurement against the master sine wave, then flipped it off.

He pulled the printout out of the machine and then removed his earplugs. With printout

in hand, he turned on his stool to give it to Crane, only to find Lee on the deck beside the stool.

Lee was trying to sit up, but couldn’t do anything but twitch ineffectively.

Harry knelt down, and cupped Crane’s head gently, tilting it to the right to check his ear plugs. Lee’s right plug fell out, bounced off his hand, and rolled away under his stool. “Steady.” Nelson removed the other ear plug, then shifted his body to sit down on the deck, moving beyond the stools to where he could raise Lee’s shoulders so Crane could lean back against him. “Must be getting close, eh?”

Lee grimaced. “As soon as you turned it on, everything went tilt. I told you I’m no good left handed.”

“I don’t mind sitting here until everything stops tilting,” Harry answered. “It’ll give us some idea of the duration, even if it was only one ear that was affected.”

Lee raised his head with an effort, squinting. “Remind me not to be on the other side when you unleash that thing. Man, it feels weird.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know which end is up. I mean, I know you’re behind me, propping me up, but I can’t communicate that to anything that will keep me in that position.”

“Disorientation is what we’re trying to achieve. We don’t want them getting up and coming after us. Interesting it only took one ear to bring you down. Should work twice as fast on folks with two.”

“I’m not exactly in peak shape.” Lee dropped his head.

Nelson squeezed the good shoulder in front of him. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes. But I can’t move. If someone finds me sprawled here on the floor...”

“Riley was back up in 15 minutes. It should take less since you didn’t get a full dose.”

“Do we tell Jamie I zapped myself?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. If you let me put in your earplugs for the next test.”

Crane smiled sheepishly, tilting his head back slightly. “Condition of staying?”

“‘Fraid so, son.” Nelson looked down at his recumbent Captain and grinned. “Now, let’s see if I can find a way for you to reorient yourself. A do it yourself antidote in case one of our people does go down.”

“Well, I know you’re behind me. Keep talking about the stunner. Outline your calibration steps. Let me focus on your voice while I try to make something move.” Crane slowly became more coordinated until he could draw his legs up under him and finally sit up. “Maybe I should stay down here for the duration of the testing.”

“Nonsense.” Harry leaned forward and retrieved the ear plug. “You are going to park your six back on that stool and I’m going to make sure you stay there. After I write up everything you told me.”

“Aye, sir.”

* * * * * *

“So how did it go today?” Jamieson joined the group at the wardroom table.

“Fine,” Nelson replied. “Lee was a big help to me.”

“If you call sitting there like a lump doing anything.” Crane grimaced and continued his awkward pursuit of his dinner with his left hand. “If someone hadn’t bound my shoulder, I could have at least written up his observations.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to read it, Lee. Not to mention the stress on your stitches. And the pain.” Jamieson scowled. “You’re not going to give up until I get rid of that ace bandage, are you? Don’t you want to heal?”

Crane dropped his eyes to his plate. “I’ll wear a sling.”

“Over your khaki shirt, no doubt!”

“Perhaps we should have this conversation later,” Harry interrupted quietly.

“Sorry.” Lee went back to chasing his dinner.

Will turned in his chair so he faced Crane. “Let me think on it. There may be something else that can be done.”

Lee looked up. “Jamie, it’s not that I don’t want - ”

“I know.” The Doctor picked up his napkin. “I see you’ve mastered left-hand fork use, at least enough to be included in polite company.”

Crane gave Will a dirty look as grins flashed around the table. Harry kept his own expression carefully straight. Too bad Chip wasn’t here to help lighten Lee’s frustration. Hopefully they would get him back tomorrow. Nelson knew that had to help.

* * * * * *

Chip Morton decided he was fed up with rice and beans. It was probably filling and all they could afford, but the menu here left a lot to be desired. At least he had spent less time chasing his meal around the plate today, having finally figured out how to use the spoon with cuffed hands. Chip made himself finish the food, washing it down with the last few sips of the local juice drink. Not his favorite, either.

The leader of the guerrilla group was the only one who spoke English and did not have prolonged conversations with him. He would come, tell Chip details of his ransom and then gloat how well that was going. Tomorrow he would be exchanged. He only had to hold out until then. Morton was glad in a way that his captor was not demanding to know very last detail he knew. Lying in his bed, Chip was surrounded by conversations in Spanish, but understood little of what they were saying. The exception was when they would mention “Blanco,” and then laugh uproariously. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know they were talking about him and his attributes or lack there of. One of his guards had touched his hair a couple of times, mumbling in Spanish about Quetzalcoatl. The man made sure he slept on the other side of the room when he wasn’t guarding him. Chip knew he should know that, something about Cortez from his Strategy class, but it kept eluding him.

He was tired. Tired of being pushed around and laughed at. Tired of being handcuffed and chained to a ratty bed in a squalid guerilla camp in the unidentified back country of Central America. They hadn’t flown long enough to have crossed the equator, that much he did know.

Chip put his now empty plate on the end of the bed and laid down. Maybe if he closed his eyes he could find something more pleasant to think about. Lee could do that. Morton grimaced. His friend and CO had been in worse hell holes than this and survived. So far he was intact and being fed on a regular basis. There was no running water, so he could forget about a bath any time soon. One more day. Morton closed his eyes. All too soon they would come and drag him out to use the filthy toilet once more.

* * * * * *

“All set, son?” Harry leaned into the radio shack

Lee nodded and handed the headset back to Sparks. “The government security forces will be more than happy to collect whoever isn’t standing after you get Chip out of there.” Crane shook his head. “The kidnappers will probably be hauled in front of a firing squad.”

“Should have thought of that before they decided to use us to overthrow their government. I don’t want this happening again,” Harry answered.

Lee adjusted his sling slightly.

“How’s the shoulder?”

“Still aches,” Crane replied, but stopped fiddling.

“Don’t let Jamieson catch you without that sling or he’ll haul your butt to Sick Bay.

Now you’ve finally got command, try to keep it.”

“I should be the one going.” Lee frowned, then shifted restlessly.

“Not this time!” Harry quickly headed off that argument. “They demanded I deliver the weapon. They’re sure they have Captain Crane, not Chip Morton. Besides having to explain your “resurrection” from the dead, you’re not a left-handed shooter. I need you to be here, coordinating our local government back up.”

“I know.” Lee sighed. “What a mess.”

“That is not of your making,” Nelson growled. “A firing squad may be too good for that lot!”

Lee laid his free hand on Harry’s arm. “They didn’t know who I was or they would have taken me. Then you and Chip would be having this argument instead. Be careful.”

“I have Sharkey. He’s not any happier with this bunch than you or I.”

Crane smiled. “Bet he’s more than ready to take them on.”

“He knows what to do. As does Ski. You’ve given ONI level training to the entire team. The detail won’t let anything happen to me.”

“I know.” Lee started to shrug and stopped the movement halfway into it. “Damn, I keep forgetting . . . ” Crane trailed off, miserable.

Harry placed his hand lightly over Lee’s. “Bullet wounds don’t heal overnight, even when you want them to.” He grasped Crane’s hand for a moment, then let go.

Lee looked at him, then slowly took his hand away. “Aye, sir,” he replied, with a sheepish grin. “If only wishing could make it so.”

* * * * * *

Kowalski wasn’t sure his part in the rescue was going to work. Someone could get trigger happy, or any other number of things could go wrong, but they were committed now.

“You have the weapon?” the Guerilla leader asked eagerly.

Nelson hefted a black duffel bag he carried in one hand. “Of course. Now where is my Captain?”

The leader raised a placating hand. “He is fine. We needed a reason for you to give us this generous gift, did we not?”

Nelson scowled. “Take the damn thing. But before you do, I want to see Crane, front and center and unharmed.”

The leader whistled.

The door of the small hut was flung open and two more men brought out a very disheveled Chip Morton between them, frog marching him across the grass. Ski had to quickly clamp his jaws together. He had never seen the Exec with a three-day growth of beard, uncombed hair, and wearing clothes that had been slept in. He almost didn’t recognize their always neat XO, except for the anger that burned in his blue eyes.

Morton raised his head to look at Nelson from the kneeling position the guerrillas forced him into.

“He is brave,” the Leader granted. “I see why you chose him to command.”

“Uncuff him,” Nelson ordered. “Now you have what you want.”

The leader gestured. One of the men took out a key ring and removed Morton’s handcuffs.

“So are we done here?” Harry extended the duffel.

“Not so fast. I want a demonstration.”

Nelson shook his head. “You can play with it all you want to after we get out of range. I’ll not have it used on any of my men. It will do the job, I assure you.”

“No, I want proof it works now. On him.” The Guerilla leader nudged Morton’s grimy jean clad leg. “Then you can go.”

Kowalski made himself not react. He saw the XO give Nelson a quizzical look. The Admiral nodded fractionally.

“All right. We’ll give you your test, but first my medic has to check out the Captain to see if he’s in good enough shape for it.”

“We did not mistreat him. He ate when we ate, slept where we slept.”

“It’s okay, sir,” Morton spoke up quietly. “Whatever it takes to get out of here.”

“Your captain is a wise man, Admiral.”

Nelson turned in Kowalski’s direction, gesturing him forward. “Check him, Frank.”

Ski knelt down next to the XO.

“Hello, Frank,” Morton greeted him with a grimace. “A little far afield from Sick Bay, aren’t you?”

Kowalski ducked his head, not wanting to give anything away to the guerrillas. He took a stethoscope out of his medical bag. “Anything hurt, sir?”

“My wrists,” Morton answered pointedly.

“I’ll get to those in a minute,” Ski answered. “First, let me check your eyes and then your ears...” Kowalski did a perfunctory exam as he waited for his cue.

Nelson wasted no time in giving it. “My men are going to put in earplugs for the test so we can leave when it’s over. I have none for your men so if you insist on doing this, they will end up as incapacitated as my Captain.”

The leader shrugged. “Do you have earplugs for me or do I have to demand yours?”

Nelson fished into his pocket. “I came prepared for that.” He handed a pair of plugs to the leader. “Now let me instruct you on how the weapon is to be used.” The Admiral unzipped the duffel.

Kowalski leaned in close to the XO’s ear as he continued his exam. “Sir, you won’t be able to hear anything once I put in your earplugs, but watch the Admiral. When everyone falls down, you stick with me. Does that hurt?” Ski said the last sentence loud enough to be heard.

“Not really,” Morton replied.

Ski checked the ear again and inserted the first ear plug as part of his examination.

“Let me see the other one,” Kowalski said, equally as loud, as he palmed another ear plug and put it in place. Ski made one last show of checking Morton’s pulse, then turned to Nelson. “He can handle the test, sir.”

The Admiral nodded. “Okay, Frank. Get out your earplugs. I’ll need you to carry the Captain when we’re done.”

Ski quickly removed his plugs from his front pocket and put them in place as Nelson did the same. The Admiral gestured for the Guerilla leader to aim the weapon at his intended victim. The leader pulled the trigger as Nelson dropped the black duffel he had been holding.

Morton remained kneeling as everyone in the camp not wearing earplugs fell to the ground, including the rebel leader. Sharkey strode over to the man, an identical stunner in his fist, and the man’s eyes widened as he understood how he had been played. He could only gaze up at Nelson furiously as the Admiral picked up the useless decoy weapon from where it had dropped out of his nerveless grasp.

“Now I have your attention.” Nelson glared down at him. “Don’t ever involve my people or me in your plans again or I’ll do more than incapacitate you! Surprised you can hear me? I really must apologize for the quality of those ear plugs. You can complain to your government if you like. They should be here any minute.”

Kowalski extended a hand to the Exec and gently pulled him up onto his feet. The Admiral and Sharkey were removing their earplugs, so Ski did the same. Next to him Morton wearily took his own out.

“That was impressive,” the XO observed.

“The Admiral has been working the better part of two days, once they demanded the stunner. He was not happy they took you, or that they targeted the Skipper in the first place.”

Morton’s eyes widened as a convoy of several Army vehicles, full of uniformed men, came down the road and fanned out to a stop in front of the small hut.

“The Cavalry has arrived. Ready to go home, sir?”

The XO shook himself. “I’ve been ready for three days. Is Lee – ”

“The Skipper said I was to make sure you were in the first seat of the first boat back. This way to your zodiac.” Kowalski slung his medical bag over one shoulder.

“He’s alive?” Morton whirled on him.

Ski nodded. “And madder about this than the Admiral, if that’s possible. Doc stitched his right shoulder back together, but between the inactivity and the pain...” Ski waggled one hand. “You know... real crabby.”

“I see. Been using your corpsman training a lot lately, Frank?” Morton asked, amused.

“They gave me and Boots steward duty. He let us help him, most of the time,” Kowalski answered with a grin. “Whatever it takes. Shall we go see him?”

The XO smiled, shaking his head. “Lead the way.”

* * * * * *

Chip wanted to slide down the ladder into the control room. He was that happy to be home on Seaview. Common sense overrode his exuberance and he came down one rung at a time, pausing as a very familiar voice came to him from the control room. Morton turned in the opposite direction he was supposed to go, and walked toward the periscope island. Kowalski followed him. “I spent three days thinking you were dead, you know.” The words tumbled out unbidden as Chip drank in the sight of his best friend, standing easily by the chart table.

Lee turned, revealing a right hand wrapped in an elastic bandage that was tied to his belt. His right arm was nestled in a black sling. Lee was a little drawn and pale, no doubt from his injury, but his welcoming grin was all Chip needed at that moment.

“Aren’t you a mess!” Lee observed, arching an eyebrow. “And a terrible example for the men. I don’t want you here again until you’re cleaned up, shaved, and back in uniform, Mister.”

“Begging the Captain’s pardon,” Kowalski spoke up before he could reply. “We were on our way to do that. Mr. Morton took a detour.”

“Carry on, Ski,” Crane said, in dismissal.

“That’s it?” Chip demanded. “Go take a shower?”

Lee’s grin widened, the green glints in his hazel eyes dancing mischievously. “Next time you’ll let me drive, lead foot.”

“I was going the speed limit! And you had a dead battery!” Morton took a step closer with each statement.

Lee extended his left hand. “We’ll discuss that later. After Ski and Jamie make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine!”

“You won’t say that once you see yourself in a mirror.” Crane smirked.

Chip grimaced. “Like you look any better after one of your ONI jaunts!”

Lee wrapped his good hand around Chip’s right arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Go with Ski. I’ll be down shortly. It will save Jamie the trouble of sending him back up here to collect me.”

The sonar man was suddenly studying the periscope as Morton turned around to verify the complicity. Chip laughed. “Did Randy enjoy all the command experience he’s been getting?”

“Not particularly,” Crane answered. “We’ll rectify that tomorrow. Now will you get out of here?”

“C’mon, Ski. I know when I’m not wanted.” Chip turned around as Lee dropped his hand. “I don’t need Doc mad at me. I’m sure he’s been aggravated more than enough these last three days.” Morton knew he would pay for that remark, but he didn’t care. He was home.

* * * * * *

Sick Bay was deserted when Lee arrived. Surprised, Crane paused in the doorway. Listening for a moment, he heard the sound of running water from the back of the area. That answered where Chip was. There was no sign of Ski or Jamie. Lee turned slightly, considering an exit before anyone knew he had come, as there was –

“Hold it, mister.” Jamieson’s voice stopped him in mid-turn. “Don’t even think it!” The Doctor came out of the dispensary with a blood testing kit.

Crane turned back with a sigh. “Is that for me?”

“Depends on what I find,” Jamie answered, noncommital. “When I get to you. I’m not quite done with Chip and you’re early.” The Doctor looked at him. “I take that to mean you’re more concerned about your XO than you are eager have your bandage changed.”

Lee took a couple of steps into the room. “How is he?”

“Don’t know yet. He was a little ripe. We decided clean first, check second. Ski took his clothes down to the laundry.”

“Wondered where he was.”

“Ski’s next chore would have been to fetch you.”

“I know.” Crane looked around at the exam tables and bunks. “Which one do you want me on?”

“Take my office chair, for now. You can watch and back me up if Chip gets evasive about anything I find.”

The shower sound ceased. A few minutes later, Morton padded out with a towel wrapped around his waist. “You could have left me some clothes!” Chip had a second towel in his right hand and was drying his hair with it. “Feels so good to finally be clean.”

“Did they make you sleep with the pigs?” Lee asked from his chair.

Morton turned slightly and grinned at him. “Almost. Human ones. That snored.”

“Up on the table,” Jamieson ordered. “If you pass, then you get scrubs.”

“Don’t you think sick list is a bit much for chafed wrists, Will?”

“Your pigsty civvies are being washed. Unless you want to parade through two decks in nothing but a towel you’ll take the scrubs.”

“Crew might like the parade,” Crane added.

Chip rolled his eyes. “Do I gotta listen to Mr. Kibbitz over there, Will?”

“You can heckle Lee when it’s his turn.”

Morton raised an eyebrow. “He’s on sick list, too?”

Jamieson shook his head. “It’s a wonder I have ANY hair left with you two as patients. Now sit.” The Doctor looked back over his shoulder. “I said watch, not comment.”

“Yes, Jamie.” Lee made his voice contrite, clamping down on the grin that was threatening to overrun his face.

Jamieson began giving Morton a thorough check “What’s this?” The Doctor asked about a particularly nasty bruise on Chip’s left shoulder.

“An injection site. They gave me a Mickey when they took me. Through my shirt.”

“With a sideways needle. Amateurs!” Jamie added in disgust.

“Not sure what it was. Lasted about four hours.”

“Do you remember any side effects?”

“You mean, like hives? No. I was nauseous when I woke up from it, but that could have been the plane. We bounced all the way down there.”

“And these?” Jamieson gestured to bruises across Chip’s lower thighs.

“They would pick me up and toss me whenever it suited them. Cuffed, I couldn’t always land the way I wanted to.”

“I’m going to paint and bandage your wrists, so they heal. Anything hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Well, your vitals look good. Did you drink the water?”

“No. They wouldn’t, either. They gave me plastic bottles of some kind of orange drink. Horrible stuff, but I was thirsty. Being cuffed all the time was the hardest part. The only time they took them off was so I could use the head.” Chip wrinkled his nose. “A one holer and it stunk! I would have rather used a tree. They all smelled like they hadn’t showered in months.”

“I’m going to test your blood, to make sure you didn’t pick up any parasitic hitchhikers or anything else in your sojourn in that hell hole.”

Morton extended his right arm. “Don’t put it in sideways.”

“Never.”

Jamieson drew the blood, put the vials in the tray, and then carried the tray into his test area. He stopped on the way back, took clean scrubs out the supply closet, and laid them on the table next to Morton. “Here, you pass. Get dressed and you can have his chair.”

Lee stood up. “The other table, Jamie?”

“You know the drill.”

Crane eased onto the exam table, cradling his bound arm carefully. Jamieson began with the knot that held his bandaged hand to his belt and then proceeded to unroll the elastic bandage around his hand. The whole process made Lee feel like a peeled onion.

As Jamie removed his sling, Crane looked over at Morton. Chip had turned the chair around and was astraddle it, watching what Jamie was doing intently. Still bearded and with his damp hair standing up in spikes, Chip’s next stop should be his cabin for a much needed shave and a comb. He’d take care of that when Jamieson was done with him.

Lee unbuttoned his shirt so Jamie could ease the khaki off his shoulder to get to the wound dressing. The Doctor peeled off the gauze bandage and seemed pleased by what he found. Liberally coating the stitches with antibiotic, he let the cream soak in for a few moments. Lee was not looking forward to having his hand bound again. Jamie had been emphatic that he not use the shoulder at all, to let his arterial wall heal, but hopefully that prohibition would be lifted soon. Lee was getting tired of trying to do things with his non dominant hand and not having much success. Crane looked over at Chip again. Morton was not happy. Lee had to admit the stitches in his shoulder looked daunting. Everyone who’d seen it had winced. He needed a distraction to get the frown off Chip’s face. “No comments on Victor Frankenstein’s work here?” Lee teasingly asked his Exec.

Morton looked up as Jamieson snorted in amusement. “It’s alive!” Jamie answered wryly, as he covered the stitches with a new gauze pad.

Chip almost smiled. “Only if the stitches were across your forehead and you had bolts in your neck.”

“Damn, knew I forgot to do something.” Jamieson gently eased Lee’s khaki shirt back up over his shoulder and straightened the front flaps so Crane could button it up. “Looking good, Lee. Nothing’s stressed. You’ve been behaving yourself.”

“Knew I had to, to do what was needed today.”

“You still need to rest. Work it out with Randy. And Chip, now he’s back.”

“Missed me, eh?” Morton drawled from the chair.

“Randy certainly did.”

A damp towel landed on the exam table next to Crane. That was more like it.

Jamie grabbed up the towel before Lee could reach for it. “Oh, no. No pitching for you.” The Doctor turned on Morton. “The laundry is over there.” Jamieson crooked his arm and lobbed the towel to a perfect three point swish into the bin.

Chip stared at him. “Where’d you learn to do that, Will?”

“Practice,” Jamie replied. The Doctor affixed the sling around his neck and arm, then deftly rolled a new ace bandage around Lee’s right hand, knotting the end to his belt. “There you go, Skipper. All done.”

Morton was still watching every move Jamieson made. Lee slid off the table. “C’mon, Chip, you got a date in your cabin with a razor and a uniform.”

The Exec ran a hand over his face. “Oh, yeah. You coming in case I go into shock when I look in the mirror?”

“Of course!” Lee replied.

* * * * * *

Word of the XO’s return had traveled through the boat. While no one who welcomed Morton back made any mention of his Sick Bay garb, Lee was sure he heard a few snickers, quickly muffled, behind them as they made their way up into Officer country. He entered the cabin behind Chip and waited for Morton to open his wardrobe.

Chip rubbed a hand over his cheeks. “Lot more than I expected for three days.”

Lee smiled. “You shave. Even on leave.”

“Unkempt doesn’t go well with the position.”

“Well, they’ve seen it now.”

“Not for long. Take the chair. This may take a while to scrape off.”

“Mind if I stretch out on the bunk then? It’s less pressure on my shoulder and I want to hear all about what happened to you in that camp.”

“No, you don’t.” Chip opened his small sink. “Let me get my hair dry. Then maybe I’ll humor you.”

Crane sat on the bunk and brought his legs up, twisting slightly to get comfortable. “Whenever you’re ready.” His only answer was the sound of a blow dryer.

The next thing Lee knew he was being gently shaken awake. “Hey, sleepyhead. I’m hungry!” Chip’s droll voice came from above him. “You said something about us going to the wardroom?”

Lee opened one eye. A markedly neater Chip was leaning over him. He was clean shaven, his hair was now dry and combed into his usual style, and Morton was back in his usual put-together-precisely-right khaki uniform.

“Damn.” Crane opened his other eye. “I told Jamie no pain medicine today. I have to stay alert.”

“To watch me dress? I don’t think so, bud. I came over to see why you’d gone so quiet and found you asleep.” Morton shrugged. “I couldn’t talk to you while I was shaving, anyway. Will put something in the cream he slathered all over your shoulder?”

“Must have.” Lee sat up. “I don’t usually go out like that. Sorry.”

Chip grinned. “No biggie. If my shoulder was that quilted I’d probably go out, too. Is this the first day they let you go to the control room?”

“Yes,” Lee admitted, much as he didn’t want to.

Morton straightened up, removing his hand from his good shoulder. “Mustn’t overdo on one’s first day or all you get is a trip back to Sick Bay.”

Lee swung his feet down and realized as his socks hit the deck that Chip had removed his shoes. His sleeves and top shirt buttons were also undone, revealing the yellowing purple bruises on his left arm. He gave his Exec a long look.

Chip gazed back at him, replying to his unasked question. “I wanted you to be comfortable. I’ve seen the aftereffects of transfusions before.”

“Those are from the venipuncture,” Lee corrected. “The transfusion went fine.”

“Sounds like you have a story to tell me.”

“Later.” Crane flipped the left sleeve of his shirt down again to cover the bruising. He slid his feet back into the oxfords that were on the floor beside the bunk “You’ll have to tie these. Can’t do it myself after Jamie binds my right arm.”

Chip knelt down and laced the shoes. “Are you sure you’re up to the wardroom?”

“Should have seen the rig Jamie had me in when I was there last night. I couldn’t even get a shirt on.” Lee noticed Chip’s khaki sleeves were unbuttoned. He waited until Morton straightened up and then reached out to lightly touch one of his opened sleeves. “Can’t get these closed over the gauze?”

Morton nodded. “Too tight. So we’re both a little off.”

“Makes us a good match. At least you can put a tie on.”

Chip smiled. “Have that reputation, you know.”

“Yes, you do.” Lee stood up. “Let’s go. I’m sure the Admiral wants to hear everything about your little adventure as much as the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” Morton answered. “Except I’m going to eat. Real food.”

Crane laughed. “If they let you.”

* * * * * *

“Here, let me help.” Chip came through the open door into Lee’s cabin. “Will ties it so it can’t be undone one handed. You should know that by now.”

Lee gave him a chagrined smile. “I wanted to make an attempt before I called Boots. And don’t tell me you happened to be passing by.”

“Okay, I won’t. I came over to talk to you.”

“And put me to bed yet again, mother hen?” Lee asked, raising a teasing eyebrow.

Morton smiled softly in return. “Maybe. I’ve seen your shoulder. You’re damn lucky you didn’t bleed to death.”

“I very nearly did. Bronowski slapped a field dressing on it, put me into his car and brought me back. Saved my life, Jamie says.”

“And if we hadn’t switched places, they would have shot me.”

“You didn’t get the better deal, trust me. At least I was getting three squares and care.”

“Yeah, the Admiral told me how you got on board. After you left the wardroom with Randy.”

Lee turned toward him. “I’d do it again and he knows it.”

Chip reached out for Lee’s right hand, gently pulling the knot apart that held the ace bandage to Crane’s belt. “They won’t give you another opportunity. Trust me.”

Lee clenched his good hand into a fist, then as quickly uncurled his fingers. “Dumb, huh?”

Chip took Crane’s bandaged hand into his for a moment and then slowly, carefully, he began to unwrap the elastic bandage.

Lee’s left hand closed over his, stopping him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Chip replied. “Now are you going to let me?”

Crane gave in with a small sigh, lifting his left hand clear. “Chip, I couldn’t lie there and not help.”

“I know. Seeing as you are still standing, I may forgive you for being a knothead this once.” Morton continued to unwrap the elastic until the bandage came free.

An amused smile came to Crane’s lips. “Don’t let it happen again?”

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep!” Chip retorted.

“You know, that looks much better on you.” Lee gestured at the elastic rolled tightly around Chip’s left hand.

“Speaking of being in stitches, turn around so I can get the knot out of your sling.”

Lee inclined his head away. “That one I can get undone.”

“Being a contortionist can’t be doing your shoulder any good. Stop being so damn independent and let me do this.” Chip tightened his grip on Lee’s right hand for a moment and then let it go. He removed the rolled bandage from around his left palm, placing it on the desk.

“It’s not your fault I got shot.”

“I didn’t do anything to stop it.”

“You didn’t do anything to cause it, either.” Lee lowered his head so that Chip could easily reach the knot in his sling.

“Thank you,” Chip said quietly, as he gently removed the black cloth from under Lee’s arm.

“So, how are we going to explain your bandaged wrists and my shoulder to the sea scouts when we show up this weekend?” Crane asked as he rotated his wrist slightly to stretch the stiff muscles in his lower arm.

“I have no idea. War game injuries?”

“Might work.”

Chip grinned evilly. “You sure you want to cement being a total klutz?”

“It has certain advantages. You can’t learn from someone who intimidates you.”

“Next you’ll be telling me you let yourself go overboard.”

“We are there to teach, Chip. Notice how careful the scouts have been since then.”

Chip folded the sling over, shaking his head.

“Resisting the impact would have injured me worse. I could have hauled myself back on board, if you hadn’t been so gung ho to save me.”

“I saw you go flying and I... I overreacted.” Chip placed the folded sling on the desk.

“That kind of mishap is why we tell them to buddy up. So they learned two things that day.”

“Three, actually.”

Crane looked at him, puzzled.

“You have a very hard head,” Morton answered. “Now get started on those shirt buttons before I do those as well.”

Lee unbuttoned his shirt slowly, a slow grin forming. “For that crack, you can plan Saturday’s lesson.”

“Have to anyway,” Chip answered. “You can’t write for at least another week.”

Lee’s left hand shot out over the desk and Chip had to duck aside, as the wadded sling went sailing past his ear. “Okay.” Morton straightened warily to find Crane laughing. “I’ll take that as a warning shot not to underestimate the one good arm you still have. Ready for that shirt to come off?”

Lee nodded. “Welcome home, Chip.”

Morton grinned. “Glad to be home, Skipper.”

The End

©Diane Kachmar, 2004. All rights reserved.