Test Flight
by Diane Kachmar, Chris
Witherspoon, and Liz Martin
Author’s Note: This story is dedicated to the late Chris Witherspoon.
"You really
shouldn't go alone, Lee." Chip Morton followed him down the gangplank of Seaview.
Crane knew that tone. He wouldn't shake his Exec easily.
Lee stopped at the
bottom of the gangplank. "It's around the block, San Diego and back. I
don’t need a copilot to check out the new rudder modification."
"It's still a
radical design." Chip leaned down on the rail.
"So was the flying
sub." Lee laid his hand lightly on Chip's arm. "What's with the
mother hen routine? We've upgraded before and I've tested her solo."
"I know." Chip
shifted uncomfortably. "Getting old, I guess."
Lee laughed softly. "Never." He tightened his grip. "Out
with it, mister."
Chip looked at him a
long moment and shrugged. "It's nothing. A feeling.
Buddying up is always a good idea."
Crane paused. Chip
wasn't an alarmist by nature. Over the years he had learned to trust his
friend. When Morton said he didn’t like something, it paid to listen.
"Besides, I need
some flight hours."
"San Diego won't
help." Something in Chip's attitude made Crane relent. The systems check
would go faster with Morton logging the sub's reactions while he flew. "If
you're that itchy, come on. You can add yourself to the flight plan." Lee
dropped his hand back to his side.
Morton straightened,
grinning. "Give me a minute to tell the watch I'm going."
Lee watched as Chip
snagged the mic by the hatch door. He did have a
habit of flying off, leaving Morton to handle whatever came up on the boat.
Chip replaced the mic and joined him at the bottom of
the gangplank. "Let's do it."
* * * * *
Lee swung into the
pilot's chair and began preflight. Chip settled into the copilot seat and was
checking off the systems as he ran the routine. It was so easy with Morton.
As soon as the checklist
was completed, Crane clipped on his throat mic.
"FS One to Base."
"Base, here."
The NIMR radio room came on the line.
"FS One. Request clearance for the channel."
"Roger, FS one, you
are cleared to the breakwater."
"Acknowledged. We expect to depart in five minutes."
"Roger, FS One, you
are on scope. Base out."
"FS One. Out."
Lee turned off the mic and shrugged into his harness. Beside him, he heard
Chip getting into his as well.
"Ready to release."
Chip thumbed his throat mic. "Steve."
"Yes, Commander
Morton."
"Release the flying
sub."
"Aye, sir."
There was a sinking
sensation as the claws retracted and the flying sub slowly drifted down to the
bed of the channel. Lee watched the blue-green water bubble past the window,
until they settled on the sandy bottom. Then he reached forward and flipped the
engine ignition switch. A soft hum filled the sub. Lee loved the sound of the
engines. He feathered the throttle bringing them up slowly.
Chip spoke into his mic again. "Okay, Steve, open the sea gate."
Lee pushed his joystick
forward and up, lifting the sub from the bottom. He moved ahead at dead slow
through the tunnel. The water against the front window deepened from green to
blue between the lights as they headed for the open sea.
They passed the gate,
continuing down the long tunnel.
"Okay, Steve, we're
clear."
"Have a good
flight, Commander."
"We will. Morton out."
"Seaview
out."
The water changed to a
deeper blue color as they came out the entrance of the sea cliff into the
channel. Lee increased power heading for the surface. Morton changed
frequencies and spoke into his mic again.
"FS One to base. Approaching breakwater."
"Roger, FS One. You
are clear for takeoff. Vector One six seven.
"Roger, Base."
Chip clicked off his mic. "You heard the man, let's get this bird
airborne."
Lee grinned. "Give
me a minute."
The water became lighter
and lighter. Then they were free of it and soaring into a clear blue sky. Crane
banked the sub onto the promised vector, bringing her up to cruising speed.
So far the new rudder
was doing fine, he could feel the responsiveness to
even the slightest touch of his joystick. He turned to Morton. "You ready
to work, or are you going to sit there sightseeing?"
Chip grinned. "I
came to rubberneck. Don’t tell me you have a flight planned?"
Crane nodded. "We
should be able to make tighter turns now without loss of stability."
"That
damn waffle that turns you upside down?"
"Yes. The Admiral
doesn't want that happening again."
"Once was
enough?" Chip grinned wider.
Lee smiled. "He has
always preferred a deck under him. Except now he has to move faster than that.
I made up a list of maneuvers we need to run through. It's on your
clipboard."
Morton lifted the
preflight sheet. "Got it."
"Log anything that
doesn't feel right. Vibration, waffle, strain, whatever, then
we'll adjust from there."
"Fine." Chip took up the pen and scanned the list. "You're really
giving her a wringing out."
"A test should
cover all the possibilities. Anything on there your stomach isn't up to?"
Chip looked at him, a
mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. "No, I've flown with you
before."
Lee grinned suddenly.
"Sometimes it helps to tighten down your harness."
Chip reached for his
straps, pulling each one an inch tighter. "There, I'm ready. Do your
worst."
Crane laughed.
"You're the one who wanted to come along."
"Remind me not to
volunteer again."
Lee ran through the
simple maneuvers first, then pressed the craft into
tighter and tighter turns and arcs. Chip was enjoying the ride, a wolfish grin
on his face.
The new rudder took it
all, giving Lee five degrees more play. Beyond that she began to waffle again.
Apparently, they could only push the edge so far.
Crane eased back before
the waffle could take hold. He did not want to introduce Chip to a flip at
cruising speed. Once had been enough for Lee, too.
They were fast
approaching Santa Barbara. Lee thumbed his mic.
"FS One to NIMR."
"NIMR."
"Requesting
clearance to land. Vector one six
seven."
"Negative. Shift to
two three four. I repeat, two three four and hold for through traffic to
Miramar."
"Those jet jockeys
are always hogging the lanes," Chip muttered.
"Roger, NIMR, two
three four." Lee almost laughed. He
flipped off his mic. "They are bigger than we
are."
"And louder and
less efficient and..."
"Military flights
take precedence over civilian flight plans."
"Who are you
calling a civilian?"
"You." Crane swung his joystick to move the flying sub to the proper
vector. "Want to watch?"
"Sure, why
not." Chip turned to the radar grid on the instrument panel. "Take
her up a little, get on top of them."
"Going up." Lee pulled the joystick back to increase their altitude.
"Okay, that's good, they'll come through right below --"
Lee moved the joystick
forward to level off. It began to vibrate in his hand.
"I said you could
--" Chip was staring at the altimeter.
The needle kept
climbing. Lee tried again to level off. The vibration against his hand
deepened.
"Chip," Lee
kept his voice calm. "Try your joystick."
Morton reached for his
control, pushing it forward. The sub abruptly leveled off. "What the
--"
Lee didn't have time to
answer. There was a loud cracking snap from outside the sub and Morton's
joystick began vibrating. The vibration spread to their chairs. Crane tried
both his joysticks, no response. Beside him, Morton was working his set, but
they looked dead as well. Suddenly Lee knew what that snap had been. The rudder
was gone. They were out of control. Out of his port Crane could see their
stubby wing picking up the vibration. He knew the waffle that was overtaking
the vehicle. They were going down.
"Hang on,
Chip!" was all he had time to say before the sub turned upside down. The
port engine stuttered and died. They were thrown sideways. With only one engine
firing, the sub began whirling like a dervish, losing altitude with every spin.
Lee dropped his eyes to
his instruments. The sky was going by too fast. He had to land in the water to
lessen their impact and keep the nose up. Crane kept working his joysticks,
finally getting a response. The prow lifted ever so slightly as the water came
rushing up.
They smacked down hard
as Lee hit the conversion switch.
Too much momentum. The one engine hadn't braked them
sufficiently. The sub flipped over. Crane smashed against something hard. The
screaming engine, the sloshing water against the ports, the shaking, all faded
away into black nothingness. The last thought Lee had was
he shouldn't have brought Chip.
* * * * *
"Mr. O'Brien!"
Riley's excited voice pulled Bobby's attention away from his departure
checklist. "It's the flying sub. She's in trouble!"
O'Brien was beside
Riley's radar scope in two steps. There was nothing on the screen.
Riley shook his head.
"They were really going down fast. They're off the screen now."
O'Brien turned to
Kowalski. The sonar man shook his head.
"I had them for one
sweep, but when I came around again, they weren't there any
more."
"Where did they
go?"
Kowalski shrugged.
"They should be there. Want me to run a diagnostic?"
O'Brien nodded.
Kowalski ran the program
and reset the machine, but the screen remained clear.
Bobby stepped back and
made eye contact with Nick Peatty in the radio room.
Sparks shook his head.
"What do we do,
sir?"
Bobby turned toward the
radio. "Get the Admiral, Nick."
* * * * *
It took Chip Morton
several moments to realize he was conscious. It was pitch black inside the sub.
He rolled his head slightly to one side, trying to figure out his position.
Chip flexed the fingers of his right hand, lowering it until he found the edge
of his chair. He was strapped in, but it felt odd. He continued to feel along
the edge, finally comprehending he was on his back.
Morton brought his hand back up to unsnap his harness. Freed of restraint, he
rolled out of the chair, onto his knees. He still couldn't see, until he
brought his hand close to his face. Chip could make out his fingers, so it
wasn't his vision.
Morton turned to where
he thought the port was, but there was no light outside the sub. Inside
everything was shut down. There was a burnt smell to the stale air that
surrounded him. Systems failure. Chip took a couple of
calming breaths. He wasn’t going to able to check out anything until he found
the stowage locker with the flashlight.
He put a hand out,
feeling along the deck, until he hit the boarding ladder. Crawling slowly
toward what he thought was the rear of the sub, his
searching fingers hit the latch on the bottom hatch. Chip closed his hand over
it, then felt around the edge of the hatch. If I'm
here, then the stowage is over ...
Morton crawled slightly
to the right until his searching hand hit a bulkhead. Sliding his hand along
it, he finally found the locker door. He pulled it open, feeling around inside
until he found the flashlight. Chip narrowed his eyes against the sudden beam
of light as he pushed the switch on and rested against the bulkhead until his
eyes adjusted. Shining the beam over the interior, he tried to assess the
damage. Not a single panel was lit in what must have been a cascading systems
failure, judging from the acrid smell and the white smoke hanging in the cabin.
Not good. The deck was littered with popped panels, as he swung the light to
shine on the co-pilot chair he had just vacated. It had broken on impact and
keeled over backward. The pilot chair was still upright. He couldn’t see or
hear Crane.
“Lee?” His voice caught
in the thick air.
Morton passed the light
over himself momentarily to see if he had any injuries that needed immediate
attention. He felt battered and disoriented, but found no open wounds or
protruding bones. The aches would come later.
Chip stood up. Shining
the light ahead of him, Morton came around the chair to find out why Crane had
not answered him. Then he dropped to his knees.
Lee's harness had
snapped. His best friend lay crumpled face down on the instrument panel. Chip
quickly laid his first two fingers on Crane’s neck under his left ear,
momentarily relaxing when he found a pulse. His fingertips were wet as he
lifted them away. Morton flashed the light on them. It was blood. And Lee was
cold. Too cold.
Chip put his fingers in
place again and began to silently count. There was no time to lose. Morton
removed his hand and put the flashlight down. Then he lifted Lee off the panel,
rolling him onto his back as Chip eased down onto the deck, so that he
supported Crane’s shoulders on his knees. “Don’t do this, Lee,” he
gritted out between clenched teeth. Blood glittered in Crane’s dark hair from
the reflected flashlight as Chip lifted his hand.
He had to rouse Lee or
it would be all over. Morton tried to visualize the classroom and Will’s
lectures. Something about not shaking suspected head injuries, but the image
wouldn’t form. But a different image popped into his head, unbidden.
Chip pinched Lee’s
collarbone between his fingers as hard as he possibly could and was rewarded by
a sudden twitch of pain from his still friend. Crane took a deep breath, let it
out and almost rolled off him. Chip clutched him tight. “That’s it. Breathe.
You have to stay with me.”
Morton began rubbing his
hands across Lee’s chest chafing whatever he could reach as Crane’s breathing
quickened. Lee moaned softly and twitched again, moving his head from side to
side.
“Easy. You’ll get blood
all over me.”
Crane’s eyes fluttered
open at that, but it was too dark to see if they focused on him.
“Lee,” Chip leaned down
so he almost spoke into his ear. “You have to wake up.”
Morton felt Crane twist
away from him in pain, but he maintained his grip. “Steady. I got you. We’re on
the bottom, you’ve got a killer goose egg and we have all the makings of a
really first class snafu here, if you don’t keep breathing.”
Lee shifted back, trying
to locate him in the dark.
“I’m behind you. Quit
moving around until I get your head bandaged. Now I’m going to lay you down, so
I can get the aid kit. Keep breathing.”
He could hear Crane
doing that, so he gently lowered his friend to the deck and sidled sideways
toward the flashlight. Grabbing it up, he gained his feet, stepped over Lee and
made a beeline for the stowage locker.
Chip quickly shined the
light inside, finding the first aid kit. He carried it back over, placing the
kit and light in the pilot’s chair facing out so he could see what he was
doing. He then twisted his up-ended chair around so the back cushion faced him.
Morton gently dragged
Crane the few feet onto the cushion. Resetting the light to illuminate the seat
back, Chip flipped the aid kit open. Blood covered the left side of Lee’s face.
Tearing open a gauze square, he soaked it in
antiseptic. He cleaned the blood gently from Lee's cheek and forehead. Chip
quickly uncovered the scalp cut. He taped several gauze squares tightly over
it, before winding a roll of gauze over them and around Crane’s head five times
before he clipped it off.
Lee was pale, his
breathing still ragged. Crane was watching him work, but had yet to say
anything. Morton had a sudden thought he should check and see if Lee’s pupils
were equal and reactive, but he couldn’t bring himself to shine the flashlight
into his friend’s face. Later. Closing the aid kit,
Chip picked up the flashlight and went back to the locker for a blanket.
Finding it, he let it
fall open as he came back and then knelt back down. He put the blanket over
Crane and tucked the edges under him. Then Morton dug under the pilot seat for
the life jacket. He pulled the cords, inflating it. Chip pushed it under Lee's
legs, elevating them slightly. A sudden soft moan brought his attention back to
Crane.
"Lee?"
Crane shifted slightly
on the chair back and raised an unsteady hand toward his now bandaged left
temple. Chip caught it up in his own. He felt Lee's
fingers tighten around his in recognition. Then Crane turned toward him. His
bandage came up against the chair cushion and he winced.
"You hit the
instrument console. Left a big dent in it, too."
Lee opened his eyes
again as a slight smile came to his lips. He swallowed hard and found his
voice. "Been out long?" he whispered.
Chip glanced at his
luminous watch. "Fifteen minutes. Felt more like fifteen hours."
"You okay?"
"Can't tell yet,
the adrenaline will have to wear off.” Morton gripped Lee’s hand hard. “You
almost checked out on me.”
Crane tried to smile and
winced again. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you with –- ”
”That is not
going to get us off the bottom. Now, lie there, while I put together a damage
report. And keep breathing.”
“Aye, sir.” As weak as Lee’s voice was, Chip could tell he was amused by his
ordering him around.
Chip played the light
over the various panels. He wondered what he should fix first. Probably should
get the air back on. They needed power. Should he try the engines? Morton shook
his head. He knew very little about servicing jet hybrids like the flying sub,
but there was also battery power. He knew how to hook into that.
“I’m getting up now.”
Chip released Lee’s hand. He picked up the flashlight once more and moved over
to the stowage locker. He looked inside for gauge wire to connect the air
revitalizer compressor to the batteries. The coiled lengths he found were too
short to bridge the gap.
Morton slid down to the
deck, angling his light for work. He stripped, then
braided the wires together into a longer length sealing the splices with the
black electrical tape. With only his pocketknife to work with, it took a while.
Chip was sweating before he finished.
“Lee?” He could hear Crane
breathing as ordered. “We have no light from outside. I'm going to patch into
the battery system so we can see what we are doing.”
"What are you
using?" Lee’s voice came back a bit stronger.
"I found some heavy
gauge in stores that should take the connection. How's your head?"
"I'll live.”
"Anything else
hurt?"
"Not yet." He
heard Crane shifting on the seat cushion. "All the fingers and toes are
responding."
"Sand must have
cushioned our impact. We appear to be intact. At least I don't hear any
water." Chip shifted his light so it momentarily illuminated Lee. He
didn't see any bloodstains on Crane's uniform that could not be attributed to
the scalp wound.
"Once we get the
light and air working, we’ll need to find power for the homing beacon so
Seaview can come out and retrieve us."
“At least they don’t
have very far to come,” Lee replied. “We could almost swim home.”
“We may yet.”
* * * * *
“So do I tell Commander
Miller to move up our departure to get us out there?” O’Brien asked quietly,
after giving Nelson a few moments to digest his report.
“How close are we?”
“He can get the crew we
need here within the hour and we’ll have to stop the loading, but then we’re
not going far. It will take another half hour through the locks. I can’t speed
that up.”
Nelson frowned. “Do we have any other assets ready to go that could get out
sooner?”
“I could send a crab and
a crew out the sea gate as soon as they get one ready. Say, thirty minutes. We
could process any telemetry they gather through Seaview’s systems until
we get out ourselves.”
“Do it.” Nelson started
toward the radio shack. “Tell Randy to keep me in the loop.”
“Aye, sir.”
The Admiral took the
headphones Sparks extended. “Hello. This is Nelson. I’ve got a little problem
up here. Where is your DSRV right now?”
* * * * *
Hooking into the
batteries had been simple, compared to the mass of wires facing Chip inside the
revitalizer unit. Trying to trace them by flashlight made him one hand short to
make the connection. This was not working. He needed a light source he didn’t
have to hold or he needed help.
He looked over to where
he knew Crane was resting. He had no idea how badly Lee was injured. Another
thing he needed light for. Morton sighed. He was getting ahead of himself. Chip
got up, walked back along the spliced wire to the battery compartment and
disconnected that end. Best not leave it live until he could hook up both ends.
The flashlight wasn’t
going to last forever. Morton opened the stowage locker again and flashed the
light inside. Flares. Useless, they’d only foul the
air more. What he really needed was some of the Admiral’s glowsticks,
but he wasn’t sure they had been added to the manifest. At least, he didn’t
remember seeing them listed there. Nelson was still
perfecting the process. Chip continued to rummage. He found more wire, a
lighter gauge. That might work for something else, so he put it down by his
feet.
“What are you looking
for?” Lee queried from behind him in the dark. “Can I help?”
Chip turned around. “Without getting up? I doubt it. You know as well as I do
you probably have a concussion. Stay down. I promise I’ll ask you if I need
anything from a prone position.”
“You’re not my type.”
Chip grinned. “Thank
God. Look, I don’t even know what I’m doing yet. Do we have any glowsticks?”
“Yes, I liberated two
from the lab for the cruise. I was going to test them in one of the rescue
drills ... Oh, that’s ironic, isn’t it?”
He could almost hear
Crane shaking his head. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea -– ”
There was a sliding
sound, followed by a dull thump.
“Lee?”
Chip swung the
flashlight to illuminate his friend. The cushion was empty. Then Crane
struggled back up onto his makeshift bed into the light. Chip turned the flash
away before it blinded Lee and was beside him in two steps.
“I told you not
to move,” he hissed, putting the flashlight down to steady Crane as he swayed
dangerously.
“Damn nuisance,” Lee
muttered.
“Here.”
Chip jammed the cushion under the chair with his right hand. “Let me anchor it,
so you can grab on if you need to.”
“Get the glowsticks first. They are in the life jacket compartment -– ”
“Under the chair.” Chip moved the cushion aside, then
reached carefully underneath, still holding onto Crane with his other hand.
Lee hooked his left
elbow around the pilot chair arm for balance and to keep himself sitting up.
“I’m all right!” he insisted. “You can let go of me.”
Chip’s questing fingers
found the plastic wrapped package. “And I’m a four star Admiral,” Morton
replied, but moved sideways, withdrawing his support.
“Maybe some day,” Lee agreed, twisting his body, trying to find a
more comfortable position on the deck.
“These them?” He drew out the package.
Crane started to nod and
thought better of it. “Yes.”
“Now, you crack them?
You hit them? What?”
“You have to mix the two
compartments together to get the glow started, so you crack first.” Lee
extended his free hand. “Let me do it.”
“Gotta learn sometime.” Morton unwrapped the sealed plastic carefully and removed the ungainly
plastic tubes. “In half?”
“Actually, it’s more
like two thirds.” Crane reached out, running long fingers along the tubing,
feeling both ends before deciding on the top one. “Try here.”
Chip bent the tube and
heard a small plastic pop. The contents shifted and a green glow grew in his
hand. It wasn’t the greatest light source, but it was enough to light up Crane.
Everything white the Captain had on turned to a ghoulish green color, including
his head bandage. “There you are,” Chip said, to stifle his sudden urge to
laugh. He did not add this particular shade of green was not Crane’s color.
“You look ... weird,”
Lee observed, squinting at him. “Your hair is glowing.”
“Yeah, a couple of
schoolboys with Daddy’s toys.” Chip flourished the glowstick dramatically, making the dark shadows behind
Crane rise and fall with his motion.
“Oh, God,” Crane started
to double over, his free hand pressing against his chest. “Don’t make ... me
laugh. It ... hurts ... too much.”
Chip was next to him in
a moment, helping his friend to straighten up again. “But seriously, folks ...”
he murmured.
Lee favored him with a
grimace. “Serious is not your strong suit. I appreciate the comedic effort, but
we both know I need a paramedic, probably a lot sooner than I’ll get one. If we get out of here.”
“We were on the radar
scope, they were expecting us. They must have seen us go down. The Admiral will
have something in the channel with the satellite tracker looking for us within
the hour. And he’ll launch.”
“She’s not ready to
sail, you still had to -– ”
”Has that ever stopped
him?”
“No.” Lee raised his
head. “Sorry, that was the pain talking.”
“You busted up?”
“I don’t think so,”
Crane ran his hand gingerly down his shirt front. “Feels more
like bruises.”
“You hit the console.
Your harness broke. One more thing we’ll have to fix once we raise her.”
“If we raise her. I’ve never seen so many systems down at once. Usually there was
something I could always get going again.”
“Does that include the
air?”
Lee listened for a
moment. “We have to restore power to the compressor or find another power
source for it.”
“Will it run off the
batteries?”
“For a while, until it
drains them.”
“Can you talk me through
it? It’s getting kind of stuffy in here.”
Crane levered himself
around the chair so he faced that unit and extended the flashlight Morton had
left there on the floor. “Find the green metal storage case latched into the
bottom of the stowage locker. I have what we need in there.”
Chip exchanged the glowstick for the flash. “More toys?”
“Insurance policy. The Admiral put the kit together after I crashed -– ” Lee looked down, embarrassed. “He didn’t like not being
able to repair her if we needed to. Didn’t I tell you?” Crane looked up at him
again.
“No.” Morton smiled. “I
don’t fly much, at least not as often as you do.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“Never mind. It’s here when we need it.” Chip pushed up off the deck to
retrieve the case.
* * * * *
“Admiral,” Randy Miller
stuck his head into the radio room. “The crab’s away.”
Nelson nodded, so the
man would know he heard him. “That’s right, March to Coronado and then up to
Santa Barbara. How long do you think that will take?” Harry shifted the
earphone impatiently. “I see. And she’s equipped to carry that much tonnage?
Yes, I can take care of that, send me whatever you
need a signature on. And let me know when she takes off. I’ve arranged for
transportation for Doctor Ballard to the Naval Air Station. Yes, that’s fine. I
really appreciate you lending her to us. You let me know if there is anything
your boys need at the base. I will. Thank you, Michael. Yes, I will. Good bye.”
He signaled Peatty to sign off. Sparks looked up at him.
“You want me to call
Scripps, again?”
Nelson managed a smile
for his communications lieutenant. Nick’s fingers were probably getting sore.
“Yes. You know the number.”
Peatty grinned back. “Is there anyone you don’t know?”
Harry laughed. “A few, but not anyone that really matters.”
Nick turned back to his
board. “San Diego it is, sir.”
* * * * *
“This it?” Chip laid the case on the deck next to Crane and flipped the lid
open. It was filled with tools. Chip shined the flashlight down, so Crane could
take out what he needed.
Lee selected three
different items and indicated he wanted Chip to close the case. “It will go
faster if you let me do it, after you help me over there. I’ll get more tired
and it will take longer if I have to explain to you what needs to be done.”
“I’m not sure you should
be moving around, Lee.”
Crane smiled without humor.
“Is Jamie here to tell me no?”
“I’m here.” Chip folded
his arms, trying his best to look like he meant it.
Lee leaned forward.
“Right now, I know I can do this. Later on, I might not be able to. Please,
Chip, don’t fight with me. Let me help both of us.”
Morton uncrossed his
arms. “You will let me move you and not try to stand up?”
“Yes, Chip.”
Getting Crane to the
panel with his tools was easier than he thought it would be, sliding over on
their hands and knees. Lee leaned against the panel momentarily to catch his
breath, then determinedly popped open the access port, delving into the mass of
wires with his probe.
Chip angled the
flashlight so that most of the interior was lit where Lee was working. Crane
seemed steady enough as he concentrated on bundling the wires into ones they
needed and ones they didn’t. But Morton could see the slight tremble in his
fingers as Lee worked with the clips. The light seemed okay where he had wedged
it, so Chip turned and dragged the inflated life jacket over to him.
“What’s that for?” Lee
glanced over his shoulder.
“This is my
insurance, in case you fall over again.”
Crane smirked. “No, you
were on leave, you wouldn’t know about that ...”
“What?”
“Think whoopie cushion.” Lee turned back to the panel. “Hand me
your heavy gauge, I’m ready to splice it in.”
Chip reached back for
the battery wire. “Wouldn’t that be kind of loud?”
“Exactly.” Crane completed the connection. “Now if you would be so kind to
hook up the other end, let’s see if the compressor still works.”
Taking the glowstick with him, Chip reconnected the heavy gauge to the
battery array and was rewarded by a hum and cool air from out of the vents.
The flashlight winked
out behind him and he turned around.
“Just conserving,” Lee
said. “Might need it after the glowsticks
are spent.”
“Are you comfortable?”
Crane shrugged. “I
guess.”
“Then stay there while I
figure out why we can’t see out the port.”
“Yes, mother.”
Chip bit back a retort
as he moved toward the front of the sub. At least Lee was still alive to be
chafing at his concern. He only had to keep him that way, until they were
rescued.
Chip crawled up the
dented instrument console to get close to the front ports. He illuminated the
seals with glowlight, but he could not find any
seepage. He was certain they had crashed into the sea and the fact he could not
see any water was puzzling. Morton touched the herculite
panel and it was like ice. That was consistent at the bottom depth he knew the
Channel had, but the densely packed sand covering the ports made no sense. They
should be on the bottom. At a vector of 234 and a speed of ... traveling at a
50 degree down angle while spinning ... Chip made himself
complete the calculation. They had hit the sea cliff and now were apparently
buried in front of it or under it. How far was anyone’s guess.
Chip tried not to think
of the pressure being put on the herculite by the
sand and the depth. In a conventional minisub they
would have been flattened. Chip rubbed his hand over the pane. God bless Alan
Levine and his crazy theories of packing molecules. Now if the seal only held.
Chip turned away from
the ports. He’d better go tell Lee.
Morton scrambled down
the instrument console, back onto the deck and raised his glowstick
to light his way. Lee was where he left him by the revitalizer panel, but had
changed position.
Chip took a step closer.
Damn. He went down on his knees beside Lee, who was now unconscious. When did
that happen? Chip quickly eased Crane to a prone position taking the pressure
off his neck, turning him so his head could lay on the
discarded life jacket. Crane did not rouse and Chip circled his fingers around
Lee’s wrist to check his pulse rate. It was there, steadily beating, but Lee’s hand
was very cold.
Chip reached behind him
for the blanket. I should have covered him up and kept him warm. He’s gone
into shock again. Morton quickly wrapped the blanket around Crane and began
trying to restore some warmth to Lee’s icy hands.
He’d been rubbing a good
five minutes without any response, when suddenly Lee twitched, hard enough to
almost make him lose his grip. “Uhmmmmppphhh.”
Crane sounded like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to wake up or not. Chip
continued to chafe Lee’s hands between his gently.
Lee’s eyes fluttered
open. They focused first on the blanket, then raised
to find him. The green half light of the glow stick
was reflected in Crane’s overly large pupils and made what was left of his
tawny colored eyes look orange. The left eye pupil was appreciably larger than
the right one.
Morton smiled down at
his friend. “Welcome back.”
A disgusted expression
crossed Lee’s face. “I passed out.” It was not a question.
“Yep.” Chip let go and rocked back on his heels. “A concussion will do
that to you.”
“Did you find out why we
can’t see out?”
“It’s sand. From the sea
cliff, I guess. When we plowed into it. That’s what
stopped us, not the water.”
“The herculite.”
“Right through the
goose,” Morton agreed. “All that sand is keeping the water out at least.”
“We’re ... buried?”
Crane raised an eyebrow. “How are they ever going to find us?”
“The Admiral will figure it out. You know he’s smarter than both
of us together.”
Lee frowned. “We have to
get the location transponder back on line, then. Before
anything else. And that won’t get done with me lying flat on my back.”
Crane lifted his hand to remove the blanket.
Chip intercepted the
motion. “Give it a few minutes. We aren’t going anywhere and they have to prep
the assets before they can launch them and -- “
”You don’t want me to
pass out again.” Crane broke in.
Morton raised his hands.
“Be kind of boring talking to myself.” He then tucked the blanket tighter
around Crane.
“What a mess.” Lee
dropped his head, talking almost to himself. “You’re not even supposed to be
here.”
“If I hadn’t been here,
you’d be dead now.” Chip reached out to grasp Lee’s hand. “And I don’t ever
want to be the one that has to tell the Admiral that.”
“Chicken,” Lee said
softly, looking up again.
“Damn right,” Chip agreed.
“Not on my watch!”
“Do you really think
Miller wants to?”
Chip laughed
mirthlessly. “Oops. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Maybe you should. He
will have to, if we don’t get out of here.”
Morton tightened his
grip. “We’re going to be rescued. It just may take a while.” Morton glanced at
his watch. “How much time do we have before the compressor drains the
batteries?”
“Four hours, maybe more,
depending on how much we use the batteries.”
“Which
is more than enough time for them to get out in the channel and find us.
We’ll be home for dinner, you watch.” Chip let go of Lee’s hand.
Crane gazed up at him.
“I’ll be in sickbay having applesauce. I hate applesauce.”
“Are you sure it’s not
the pills they put in the applesauce?”
“That, too.” Lee grinned suddenly. “You’re hopeless. Everything can’t always be
sunny side up, you know.”
“Shhh.” Morton put his fingers to his lips. “You’re not supposed to tell
anyone that. How’s your head? Are you feeling dizzy or woozy or like you are going
to fall over sideways?”
Crane was silent for a
moment, then closed his eyes momentarily, before
opening them. “I was, sort of, but then I started arguing with you and it’s
gone away.”
“You’re warmer, too.”
Chip laid the flat of the back of his hand against Lee’s wrist.
“So are you a doctor or
a debate coach?”
“I’m your best friend.
Now do you want to help me fix the transponder or not?”
Lee reached down for his
blanket. “You are hopeless.”
* * * * *
“This telemetry doesn’t
make any sense, Admiral. How can there be no trace of them, when our radar
showed them going down and our sonar had their blip for one sweep? They have to
be out there,” Miller stated, frustrated.
Nelson studied the
printouts. “Oh, they are out there, Randy. And there is an explanation why we
can’t find them. We just have to find it. The crab is on search pattern alpha?”
“Yes, sir. Just completed the first pass.”
“All right, tell them to
turn around and make a second pass according to the grid. I want them to look
hard, especially in the sectors right around 234, as that was the Flying Sub’s
last known position. The radar report shows they pretty much went straight
down. Did you have time to equip them with those portable floods?”
Miller nodded. “They say
they are not much help. It’s really murky down there right now.”
“Blue and yellow won’t
blend into the sand. They will find them. We know they have to be in the
channel.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Mr. Miller!” The
speaker on the work table clicked. “North Island Naval Air Station reports the Avalon
with Dr. Ballard is away.”
“Thank you, Sparks.”
Miller spoke into the mic and then replaced it.
“It’s getting done,
Randy.” Nelson reached up to touch his Engineering Officer on the shoulder.
“I’m not going to stop until I find them. The men are looking to you to lead
them. I know you’d rather not, but I need you to.”
“I know, sir.” Miller
drew himself up. “Continue with search pattern alpha?”
“Unless I tell you
something different before the DSRV gets here. It’s all we can do at the
moment, until we get out there.”
“We’re almost ready to
shove off. I’ll let you know when we do.”
“Then I won’t keep you.
Go get us underway, Mr. Miller.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
* * * * *
“This one is toast, too,” Lee took his hand away from yet another
blackened circuit board. “It’ll never work again with this much damage.”
“Can we bypass?” Chip
hunkered closer, careful not to kneel on the edge of his trailing blanket.
Crane pretended not to
notice. He must have nearly flat-lined the way Morton was acting. If only his
harness hadn’t broken. If only he hadn’t brought Chip. If only pigs could fly
submarines –-
Lee caught himself. Chip
had asked him a question. Concentrate. Don’t give in to the pain and dizziness.
“I don’t think so.” Crane
took the edge of the blanket resting over his shoulder and rubbed it across his
forehead.
He blinked, trying to
clear his vision, fighting down a slight queasiness from the smell of the
charred circuits.
“You okay?”
“No.” Lee lowered the
blanket. “Stop asking me. I promise if I feel I’m passing out again, I’ll tell
you.” He turned and scowled at his best friend. “So you can catch me.”
Morton grinned. “All right. I’ll quit asking. I take it we are not repairing
the transponder?”
“No. I need all new boards
to get it going it again.”
“So we wait for rescue.”
“Looks that way.” Lee removed his hand from the access port.
“Is there anything in
there that will work?”
Crane surveyed the
inside again with his glowstick. “Not unless you want
music.”
“And waste battery power
we don’t have to spare. No thanks.”
“You wouldn’t like it
anyway,” Lee replied. “It’s set on the Admirals’ program.”
Chip shook his head.
“Can’t either one of you listen to something decent, like rock and roll?”
Crane smiled in spite of
how lousy he felt. “There’s nothing wrong with swing. Or jazz for that matter.
It’s just softer.”
“One man’s noise, eh?”
Chip granted.
“Something like that.”
“Where can I lay you down? That smoke smell is a little too intense
around here for my liking.”
“Who said anything about
laying down. Don’t we have other systems to get back
on line?”
“You’re getting a little
pasty. Smoke gets to you, remember. You were the one that said we have to
conserve our assets. I won’t get anything going if you go out on me, again.”
“I don’t want to lie
down.” It came out more petulant than Lee wanted it to. Chip was only trying to
help. “I want to get us out of here.”
Chip gestured at the
burnt out panel. “I don’t think we are going anywhere any time soon.” Morton
gazed at him seriously.
Lee knew that look and
the loyalty and love that was behind it. This man would die to save him, much
as he didn’t deserve that consideration.
The Exec cocked his
head. “How about a compromise we both can live with?”
“Such as?”
“I move you away from
this smoldering ruin before you do pass out and you lie on the floor next to
the pilot’s chair in your blanket while I see if I can get the engines started.
That is one thing I do know how to do.”
Crane lowered the glowstick. “All right. The smell
is starting to make me want to puke,” he admitted.
“Enough said,” Chip
doubled the blanket up over his shoulders for the trip. “Still
dizzy?”
“I think I can manage to
crawl over there without falling over, but you’d better get ready to steady me,
if need be.” Lee passed over the plastic tube. “Light the way.”
* * * * *
Harry had always enjoyed
the ride out the locks until now. There was always an air of anticipation
aboard about getting out to sea and into the cruise. New research, new ports ...
Today the atmosphere on
the boat was somber. They were going out after two of their own. The skeleton
crew was going about their tasks with grim determination. They would find Crane
and Morton and not come back until they did. But the ride out seemed to be
taking much longer than it ever had before.
Nelson looked up as Lt.
Baker arrived with more reports. “From Mr. Miller, sir. Results of heat
signature probe and second search pass are negative. Commencing
third run.”
“Tell him thank you and
to carry on,” Nelson replied, accepting the report.
“Aye, sir.”
Nelson turned back to
face the view out the nose. The new rudder was supposed to have fixed the
flipping problem and now it may have cost him his two top officers. Chip Morton
had picked the wrong flight to hitch a joyride on, that was for sure.
Harry shook his head. Of
course Lee took him along. That’s what made Crane and Morton such an effective
team. To lose both of them would be... Nelson stopped that thought. He could
not start thinking they were dead or he was defeated before he even started. Herculite was the most solid material ever patented and
there was nothing in the channel they could hit that would tear her open, so
there was a very good chance of them still being intact. As long as they had
air.
Harry stopped that
thought, too. The pair was resourceful enough to survive in the wrecked sub
until he could get to them. Lee knew almost everything there was to know about
the machine. He would not let Chip die.
But there was no
transponder, no heat signature, no sign of anything powered that they could
have had triggered from inside the sub that would lead him to the wreck. That
was not like Lee at all. And the wreck site they had targeted revealed nothing
but sand. That was odd. Very odd. And it worried him
more than anything else. Harry could really use any kind of sign they were
alive right now.
“Admiral,” the speaker
in the table clicked suddenly. “Can you come to the control room? The crab
found some wreckage. She’s retrieving it now for analysis and will meet us at
the breakwater.”
Nelson snagged the mic. “Be right there.”
* * * * *
“It’s not responding,”
Morton flipped all the engine switches back to start mode. “I don’t understand.
It’s never done that before.”
“The start mechanism
could be fried,” Lee offered from the floor. “Everything else is. I couldn’t
know for sure until you tried it and got nothing. There might have still been a
latent charge, but obviously not enough.”
“And without the
starter, no ignition.” Chip stated.
“Then there’s our other
problem,” Crane added.
Morton did not like the
sound of that. “Which is?”
Lee shifted in the
blanket. “Where is our free flowing stream of sea water for the aqua jets?”
Crane gestured over his shoulder to the sand covered front port. “Does that
look free flowing to you? The intakes are totally clogged with silt by now.”
“So even if we could get
her started, she won’t move.”
“Not until someone comes
and digs us out.”
Crane was getting more
in shadow as he spoke and Chip realized that the first glowstick
was going out. He’d better find the other one before it completely faded. Chip
slid out of the pilot chair on the opposite side of Lee and began searching the
floor. If the plastic wrap is there ... Morton saw the glowstick
beyond it and picked it up.
Then he came around the
chair on Lee’s side and sat down cross-legged on the deck next to his Captain,
resting against the now useless instrument panel. The glowstick
continued to fade.
“Is it getting dark in
here or is that me?” Lee asked suddenly.
“The glowstick
is going out. I’ve got the other one, don’t worry. Do you want to rest in the
dark a while, or do I fire it up?”
“I don’t see how
conserving it is going to help us. You need to be able to see when you walk
around.”
“All right. When this one goes.” Morton rubbed his
shoulder absently. It was starting to hurt.
“What’s with the
shoulder?”
Caught off guard that
Lee could see that far in the diminishing light, Chip replied truthfully, “I
don’t know, but it’s really starting to ache.”
“About where your harness
was?”
“Yes. How’d you know ...”
“Go get the aid kit.
Will Jamieson is about to make a house call.”
“Does it involve
needles?” Chip asked warily.
“No, my paranoid
friend,” Lee’s low voice held affection. “It will make you feel better, I
promise.”
Chip looked down at the
first glowstick. It was almost gone, so he laid it at
the foot of Crane’s blanket to light his way back. Then he cracked the new one.
It seemed almost too bright as Chip made his way over to the stowage locker and
returned with the aid kit. He resumed his seat on the deck next to Crane and
opened the kit. “What am I looking for?”
“Square blue pouch with
a pull tab, all folded in a roll.”
Chip brought it out. “This thing?”
“Yes. You pull the tab,
it gets cold and after a while no more harness lash.”
“They develop this for
you?” Chip almost smiled as he unrolled the pouch.
“Partly,” Lee granted.
“I’ve been glad to have it coming back from more than one mission, but actually
Jamie wanted it in here for the Admiral and used me as the excuse. It worked.”
Chip smiled, as he put
the rapidly cooling pouch under the collar of his white t-shirt. “So we all
take care of each other.”
“When we can,” Lee
answered.
* * * * *
Up close the remains of
the rudder assembly looked like a child’s conception of a steel pretzel as it
was wheeled into missile room on a cargo roller from the launch bay. The
twisted metal still shimmered from being pulled from the sea water. Part of it
was apparently still attached to the flying sub as the jagged sheer cut
diagonally across the assembly. Harry could not imagine what combination of
velocity, spin and air pressure had made it snap and then bend into that
peculiar configuration.
“And this is all you
found. No other wreckage?”
“Yes, sir,” Petty
Officer Barcroft confirmed. “We went over where it
was found six times. There was nothing else there but this. That’s when we
decided to come in with it.”
“Well done,” Nelson
offered. “My compliments to the team.”
“We’ll be going out
again as soon as they top off our fuel. We’ll find them, sir. They are plotting
a new grid for us based on where we found the rudder.”
“Then get going, mister.
Don’t miss your ride.”
“Yes, sir.” Barcroft saluted and left.
Harry walked around the
rudder again, looking for anything that might be a clue. There had to be an
answer here.
The speaker on the wall
on the missile room clicked on, demanding his attention. It was Sharkey.
“Yes, Chief.” Harry picked up the mic.
“We are attaching our docking
collar to the Avalon right now. We’ll have her transported to the sea
gate and wet in less than an hour.” Harry smiled as there was considerable
shouting at the “knuckleheads” off mic.
“Good work, Chief. Is
the medical team there?”
“You mean Frank? Yes,
he’s ready to go, sir.”
“Then get going. Tell
Dr. Ballard to call me when he reaches the breakwater and then he can follow in
our wake, north along the cliff face.”
“Aye, sir,” Francis
acknowledged, then Harry heard him shouting over his
shoulder again. He shook his head.
“Nelson out.”
Harry replaced the mic and looked one more time at the twisted metal rudder.
It would be one hell of an ugly tombstone for two of the finest officers he had
ever trained. Nelson pushed that unwelcome thought away. He’d get a team on the
metallurgy right away. They would find out why it failed.
But right now, he should
visit the control room. The men needed to see him. Plus he wanted to inspect
that empty blank sand area they were calling the wreck site personally. There had
to be something he was missing.
* * * * *
The sound of hands
sliding on rubberized kapok and hissing roused Lee out of his half aware state.
Drifting was less painful than struggling to stay awake, but once the noise
started, he had to find out what it was. Lee half opened his eyes and turned
toward the glow on his right. Morton was simple to find with a glowstick. Just look for his hair.
Crane smirked despite
the pain. Chip would find out soon enough once the glowsticks
came into wide use during a lights out safety drill. Lee caught himself. If they got out of here. Which was something he needed to
talk to Chip about now the clock was nearly up on their air.
“What are you doing?”
Crane tried for an almost normal tone of voice and was pleased when he
succeeded.
“You’re supposed to be
resting.” Morton did not look up.
“With all
that racket going on?”
Chip’s hands stilled on
the jacket. “Oh. Sorry.”
“You didn’t answer my
question.”
Morton’s head came up at
that. “I’m making you a cervical collar. If this blasted
thing will cooperate. It occurred to me that if you do have a
concussion, I should put you in something to keep your head from flopping
around.”
“You make me sound like
a fish.”
“If I can just get this
tucked up under here so it stays deflated, instead of filling,
that should make it short enough to support your head without making you
feel like you have a lead weight on top of your chest bruises.”
“Are you sure you don’t
want a transfer to medical before you retire?”
“Will doesn’t need me.
You do. Here, let’s try this and see if it works.” Chip moved over slightly,
sliding his arm under Lee’s shoulders. “Let me get you up. It’s safer.”
It was easier to stay
limp and let Chip prop him up. Crane leaned against the chair for balance while
Morton fiddled with the ties on his “collar.” The jacket was only half
inflated, which kept it down from around his ears, for which Lee was grateful.
It did make his head feel less like it would fall off sideways at any given
moment.
Crane had been concussed
before, so the slightly dislocated feeling from his head injury was familiar.
Not one he welcomed, but one he knew he could handle. Lee
hated being so dependent on Chip. Now Morton had remembered his
particular peeve about life jackets. The man deserved better than a herculite tomb at the bottom of the Santa Barbara channel.
One he was not supposed to be in.
“How’s that?” Chip asked earnestly, thinking only of his comfort.”
“Better,” Lee answered
truthfully. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Better,” Morton
replied, trying to keep a straight face.
“Lay me down again,
Chip, I have to talk to you and there’s not much time.”
Morton carefully lowered
him to the deck and began fussing with his blanket.
“Stop that and look at
me,” Crane commanded softly without any edge.
Chip let go of the
blanket and moved the glowstick so it illuminated the
short space between them. Then he shifted back into his cross-legged position
and met Lee’s determined gaze with one of his own.
“The batteries are not
going to last much longer and we have to decide where we go from there.”
“I was about to go into
the tank locker and get the tanks ready. That should give them another hour to
find us.”
“Tank, Chip. I only
loaded one for the pilot of this flight as the pre-flight protocol demands. If
I had been thinking, we’d have added one on after you came on board, but I was
in a hurry to get off and I –“
”Whoa.” Morton raised a warning hand. “You’ll only wear yourself out with
that kind of guilt. I don’t think that’s good for your condition. I added
myself to this flight, not you.”
“Chip, I want you to
take that tank and dive out of here. Go get help, bring them back here.” Lee
knew the capacity of the tank at their depth and a careful diver of Morton’s
skill would make it safely. Even if it would be too late when
Chip did return with someone to dig him out. At least Morton would be
spared seeing him die. ”I’ll make it an order if I have to,” Lee added.
“And you can order a
section 8 for yourself at my court-martial!” Chip glared at him. “That’s your
head injury talking. I am not leaving you here to die alone! We are in this
together,
no matter what happens.”
“You know I can’t dive
like this. You have to go, Chip. It’s our only chance now.” Lee tried
his most persuasive tone. I will not have you die on my account, my friend,
no matter how much you may wish to.
“You haven’t thought
this through!” Morton accused.
“Yes, I have, Chip,” Lee
replied, finding inner strength to stand up to Morton’s ire. “I’m supposed to
be dead. If you hadn’t been here, I would be, so let that happen and get the
hell out of here while you still can.”
“No.” Chip crossed his
arms. “I’ve been thinking about our options, too, and leaving you here isn’t
one I’ll even consider. Didn’t you listen to my damage report?” Morton
demanded. “We had a cascading systems failure when we impacted,
nothing is working on this craft, including the hydraulics on the lower hatch.
Yes, I could open this,” Chip thumped the top of the sea lock hatch beside him.
“And get into the lock, but there is no way to get any seawater past the sand
to flood the lock or get the bottom hatch open. Not with the entire weight of
the flying sub pressing down on it, combined with half a sea cliff dumped on
top of us. We have to wait until they dig us out us. If they don’t find us,
then we will suffocate together.” Morton shrugged. “I can live with that.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
Chip laughed. “Trust me,
if there was a way to get both of us out of here, I’d be in a Momsen hood so fast --”
”I’d never make it. You
have to save yourself, Chip.”
“I am not leaving
you. Even if I could get out. That’s final.” Morton
heaved himself up off the deck. “Don’t be the hero, for once in your life, and
stay alive to be rescued. Don’t you think the Admiral has every asset he could
beg, borrow or steal up there looking for us. If it
was me down here, he might not care as much, but we all know how he feels about
--”
“That is enough,
Mister Morton!” Lee was in command mode before he could stop himself. Chip
flinched and subsided, but the anger was still evident in his defiant stance
above him. Lee watched his friend take deep breaths to calm down. It mirrored
his own agitation as Crane tried not to allow his frustration at Morton’s
stubborn refusal to save himself make him lose control of the situation. The
air must be getting stale. Shouting at each other only used
up more.
“Lee, I can’t
leave. Don’t ask me to.” Chip’s voice was soft, but firm, with no trace of the
anger of only a moment ago.
“We’ve faced death
before. If this is our time to die, then it’s our time. At least we’ll go
together.”
Crane reached out, his
own ire cooling at Chip’s quiet assessment of what was important. Lee touched
the closest leg to him lightly in acknowledgment. “You do understand I won’t like
taking you with me.”
Morton shrugged and
knelt down to finish adjusting his blanket. “Fortunes of war.
We had a good run, didn’t we? It has been 25 years of non-stop adventure.” He
tucked the blanket edge over Crane’s shoulder. “It wouldn’t be any fun without
you, anyway.”
“Chip, I -– ”
Morton gripped his
shoulder once, then removed his hand.
“I know.”
Lee looked up at him
intently. “I never had a brother. Until I met you.”
“I had brothers. All
they do is drive you crazy.”
Crane smiled despite the
pain he felt. “Who says you don’t. You never follow orders, you are as stubborn
as a mule, you are always -– ”
Morton grinned. “There
you go, again. You’ll never get any rest that way.”
“Would you rather I
passed out?” Lee ventured, half in jest.
Chip’s grin took a
sideways bent. “It would let me get back to work.”
“Doing what?”
“Well, someone told me
the air is not going to last forever, so I thought I’d retrieve that emergency
tank and hook up the regulator. And the spare. So if
they don’t find us before the air runs out, at least we are ready for the
switch to scuba. What do you think of my plan?”
“Permission granted to
carry on, Mister Morton.” Lee replied softly.
“Aye, sir.”
* * * * *
“Admiral, it’s the Avalon,
they want to talk to you.” Peatty called from the
radio shack.
Lt. Bobby O’Brien
watched as Nelson picked up the mic from the chart
table by the periscope. “Hello, Bob, welcome to my bathtub.”
“Yes, you and Nuevo Energy. Your chief gave me the lowdown on your two men. I understand the
rescue window is closing fast.” Dr. Ballard’s voice came out of the speaker.
”Yes,” Nelson confirmed. “Any ideas why we can’t find them when all our data keeps leading
us back here?”
“Possibly. I need more light on the cliff face. Can you swing your front
searchlight about 20 degrees left?”
Nelson glanced up and
signaled to O’Brien.
“20 degrees left, aye
sir.” Bobby gave the order.
“A little more, three
more degrees.”
“Three degrees.”
“That’s it. Hold it
steady.”
“All stop.” Bobby once
again passed the order.
Nelson glanced up at the
monitor to see what the sail camera was seeing. All O’Brien saw was sand, piles
of it, but no flying sub.
“Harry,” Ballard’s voice
was excited. “This fall is recent, very recent. When did you say they crashed?”
“About four hours ago.”
“This is fascinating,
the moraine still hasn’t stabilized. Your missing craft is herculite,
right?”
“Yes.”
“I think your men are
here, Harry. Under all this very recently shifted sand. Recall your crab, they’ve got to dig me a way in. Is there any way you
can get the wreck to identify itself, so we know where to start? I mean, I know
you’ve already done all the standard searches, sonar, radar, heat signature,
hydrophone, so we know that all their systems and comm
are off line, but isn’t there anything at all on that craft that would respond
to a remote signal from you?”
“Hold that thought!”
Nelson shouted into the mic, before he dropped it and
ran for the hatch at the rear of the control room. “What do you suppose that is
all about?” Miller murmured beside him.
“I don’t know, but we
had better be ready for anything when he comes back.” O’Brien picked up the
fallen mic. “Dr. Ballard, please stand by.”
“Standing by, Seaview.” Ballard’s voice came back, sounding highly amused.
* * * * *
“Stop that,” Chip said,
as he laid the emergency double tank set within easy reach of where Crane was
lying.
“What?” Lee lifted his
head from where it had been resting on a fold of blanket tucked under his
inflated collar. “I’m not doing anything.”
“That’s not true,”
Morton replied. “I can hear you blaming yourself for this loud and clear.”
“Then you are getting
hypoxic. Breathe some air from the tank and it will go away,” Crane replied and
shifted away from him, trying to find a more comfortable position on the deck.
But Chip wasn’t fooled
so easily. Morton lowered himself to sit beside Lee. “It’s not quite time yet,
might as well stay on the batteries for as long as we can. Once we switch to
the scuba, that’s it. Let me clip the spare to your collar, so you’ll be
ready.”
Crane hesitated for
several seconds, then finally rolled back in his
direction so Chip could attach the smaller, back-up regulator to his life
jacket.
“Try it. I want to see
if it works.”
Lee dutifully bit down
on the plastic mouthpiece and did the standard air check he always required of
all the divers aboard the boat. Chip carefully kept his expression neutral lest
Lee see. Crane was not happy with him as it was.
“It works.” Lee let the
plastic mouthpiece fall to his chest after completing the exercise. “What about
yours?”
Morton strapped the main
regulator loosely around his throat and performed the same drill for Crane to
see. Lee laid his head down when Chip was finished and closed his eyes.
“So is this called
companionable silence?” Morton asked.
Crane opened one eye.
“It’s called staying as still as possible so your head doesn’t come off. Want
to try it?”
“Mind if I pass?” Chip
answered quietly.
“No,” Lee answered in
much the same tone.
“So where do we go from
here?”
“I don’t know. I always
hoped it would be quick. That I wouldn’t feel –– wouldn’t see -- wouldn’t have
to wait for it to come and take me ...” Crane averted his face.
“I’m not afraid, Lee, although I think you believe more than I do.”
“I’m the Captain. The
men expect me to have all the answers. Even when I don’t!”
Crane answered bitterly, still looking away from him.
“You have not failed
me,” Chip replied, reaching out to touch Lee lightly on the arm. “Eternal
Father, strong to save, hear us when we cry to thee -– ”
“ -- for those in peril on the sea,” Crane finished the stanza. “That
was a long time ago they taught us that.”
“Tradition isn’t such a
bad thing.”
“It is when they sing it
at your funeral.” Lee finally looked up, giving him a baleful one-eyed
glare.
Chip almost smiled.
“We’re not licked yet, we still have another hour or
so before it’s completely hopeless.”
“They’ll need more than
an hour to dig us out.” Crane closed his eye. “I’m sorry it had to end like
this.”
“So am I, but -– ” Chip cocked his head suddenly. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Lee raised up on one elbow unsteadily, tilting his head.
Chip tightened his grip
on Crane’s arm, holding the elbow firmly in place. “That.”
Lee grimaced. “Sounds
like screws.”
“Twin screws,” Morton
corrected.
“Seaview?”
“Who else?”
“If only we had some way
to get their attention ...” Lee tried to sit up and almost fell over.
“Easy.” Chip grabbed him
by the shoulders, stopping his sideways motion. “Want to turn on that music you
offered me about four hours ago?”
“Do we have enough
battery power left?”
“Maybe enough for one
short burst of swing.”
“I need the tool box and
the light gauge —- ”
Crane started to move
around him, but Chip stopped him by tightening his grip. “Hold still before you
strangle us.” He took one hand from Lee’s shoulder and reached around to pluck
the spare regulator off Crane’s life jacket and bring it back to him. Dropping
it into his lap, Chip then reached up to unclip his own regulator from around
his neck. “There,” he said with a grin, releasing his hold on his friend. “Now
go save us.”
There were way too many
conflicting emotions in the look Crane threw over his shoulder at him as he
crawled off in the direction of the panel. Chip knew he would never forget
receiving it as he got up to get the green box and the wire.
* * * * *
Harry started unwrapping the connecting wire before he was half way to the
sonar station. “Miller!” he demanded in the direction of the chart table.
“Aye, sir.” Randy met him at the sonar station.
“Open her up, I need to
patch into our echo location system.”
Miller removed the cover
quickly and set it aside on the deck. “You want to piggy back your remote
signal.”
Nelson nodded. “And
boost it as high as it will go. No telling how buried they are. I’ve got to get
through or we will never find them in time.”
Randy’s fingers moved
quickly among the panels. “In here and then over here for
power.”
Harry made the
connection and then stretched out his cables. “This better work,” he muttered
and turned back to the radio shack. “Nick! Tell all the assets to prepare for
active pinging.” He glanced up at Miller.
The EO motioned the duty
watch to resume the station he had vacated when he saw Nelson bearing down on
him. The sonar man donned his headphones and waited for orders.
Nelson hit the first
program button on his remote tester.
“On my mark, Jensen. Now.”
A very loud ping went
out from the bow of Seaview and everyone waited for the device in
Nelson’s hand to light up. Nothing happened and a moment later there was an
answering ping bounced back from the sea cliff. Harry let out a breath he
didn’t realize he was holding. So much for that system responding.
He pressed the second
programmed system and signaled Jensen to ping again. He would run the entire
test program if he had to. Something had to be working somewhere on the flying
sub. He had never known the craft to be totally dead in all the years they had
her in service. They had been lucky with her. He had to hope that luck was
still there.
* * * * *
At the third round of
mostly muffled cursing, Chip glanced at his watch again. Time
to call it quits. There was nothing Lee apparently could do with that
fried panel to help the boat above find them. Seaview would have to
locate them on their own. The screws had passed over them once again, but he
doubted Lee had heard them as he worked by flashlight inside the panel.
Chip raised an eyebrow
at a particular expletive he knew Crane knew but had never heard him utter on
the boat. He needed to get Lee on the scuba before the air gave out. The
batteries were going to run down any minute now, and then there would be no
power for the music signal.
He picked the scuba tank
and carried it away from the panel to a clear space beside his broken chair.
There was a place for them to lean against at a grade that was comfortable and
they would be in plain sight to any rescuer who came down the ladder. Even if it would be to recover their bodies.
“Lee,” Chip knelt down
behind his friend. “C’mon out of there. It’s time to get on the scuba.”
Crane stiffened as
Morton touched his shoulder, then slowly straightened up and turned to him. “It
won’t work,” he said, between clenched teeth and then slumped in defeat. “The
power source to the player won’t come on no matter how I wire it or to what. It
must be fried.” He clicked the flashlight off wearily.
“Not your fault,” Chip
said gently, closing his arms around his friend’s shoulders in the green-lit
darkness. “At least we have the knowledge they are trying to find us.”
Lee looked up. “So
close.” Then he closed his eyes in pain.
“One more crawl?” Chip asked quietly. “It’s not far.”
Crane sighed. “Which way?”
“Over there.” I’ll be
right behind you with the glowstick.”
Lee dragged himself over
to the tank and voluntarily picked up his spare regulator. He put it in his
mouth without any further protest and stretched out prone on the deck.
Chip brought the blanket
over with him as well and draped it once more over Crane. Then he rigged and
donned his own regulator. Morton reached over to adjust Lee’s blanket and saw
it was shaking. Crane was shivering underneath it. Whether it was shock or
exhaustion, Morton couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, it wasn’t doing Lee any
good.
Chip moved himself down
and over, turning the tank sideways so he could get in close to Crane. He
sandwiched himself up against Lee’s back and pulled the blanket around so that
it covered both of them, lending his friend the warmth of his body. It was all
he had left to give.
Lee roused at his touch
and turned over to look at him.
Their eyes met for a
long moment. Then Crane pulled himself up with an effort, moved his body
further down the deck and laid his head back down on Chip’s shoulder. Morton
knew then his brother had forgiven him for staying.
Chip shifted slightly to
accommodate his weight and moved his right arm up to close around Lee’s
shoulder. He smiled, now that Crane couldn’t see it and felt a sudden peace
descending over his frustration. After a while, Lee’s demand on the regulator
lessened, his shaking subsided and he relaxed into what Chip hoped was sleep. Even if it was only for a little while. Hypoxia was an ugly
way to die.
When Chip was sure Crane
would not awaken at his touch, he let go of the glowstick.
He unbuttoned one of Lee’s upper buttons and inserted his now freed hand
between Lee’s tan shirt and white t-shirt so he could feel Crane’s chest
lifting and heart beating.
Lee looked done in. He
had fought so hard against giving in to his injuries and pain,
it did not seem fair that it was all in vain. Despite his acceptance, there was
an angry little part of Chip that refused to be quiet or believe he had saved
Lee four hours ago only to end up like this. The fates were being too cruel
this day.
Morton closed his eyes.
He was tired of fighting, too. And it was only going to get worse from here.
* * * * *
Nelson was beginning to
doubt his idea was going to work, but he continued the test routine. System 15.
“Harry.” Ballard came
over the PA system from the Avalon.
“Can you see what your
pinging is doing to the moraine?”
“Talk English, Bob.” Nelson growled as his tester refused to light up once more and
the echo of the ping came back from the cliff wall.
“Okay. If you will look
at your sail monitor, every time you ping, sand shifts. This whole slide is
monumentally unstable. Tell your crab to get in behind me, I want to try
something and they are in the way.”
“Miller.” Nelson started the program for system 16.
Randy picked up the mic from the chart cable. “Crab One,
make your course 135 and rendezvous with Avalon.”
“135, aye, sir.”
“Now, Harry, I want you
to move that big lummox of a sub of yours next to me so is it pointing right at
top of that middle dune.”
“145, sir,” O’Brien
offered.
“Do it.” Nelson gestured
distractedly.
“Changing course to line
up on 145, aye sir.” O’Brien gave the order
and the sub began to move slowly to starboard.
“That’s it. Now when you
are in position I want you to give me the loudest ping you can generate and
then watch what happens.
With any luck, it will
save us hours of digging. Time your men don’t have any more.”
O’Brien began to count
down the degrees of their swing. Nelson continued to run his programs, but he
appreciated Bobby’s attempt to involve the men on watch. That one had
potential.
“143 ... 144 ...”
Nelson brought up
another program. This better work. “Get
ready, Jensen. At maximum.”
“145. All stop!” O’Brien
continued.
“Now, Jensen!”
PING!!!
The crew was watching
the monitors and a cheer went up as more than half the sand pile toppled
sideways away from the assets’ position. Ballard’s idea had worked. Nelson
glanced down at his tester. The telltale was glowing green. He had made contact
with something inside the flying sub. “Miller!”
* * * * *
Chip was having the
weirdest dream. He didn’t know the pearly gates had a door bell. Yet he kept
hearing ding and then a little later dong. Why the hell didn’t somebody answer
it? Then he heard the trumpets. A reception committee?
For them? No, wait, Gabriel only had one trumpet and
what was he doing playing music from World War II? World War
II?!?
Morton tried to sit up
and couldn’t move. Then the weight lifted off him and something struck him in
the chest and bounced off. Chip forced his eyes open and sat up groggily.
Lifting the meager green light of the glowstick, he
looked wildly around for Lee and spotted the lopsided head bandage over by the
music panel.
Morton gathered his feet
under him and the spare regulator fell to the deck from his lap with a plastic
clatter. Chip stared at it in horror as he was almost blasted from his knees by
trombones. It was so loud it hurt his ears, but there could be no doubt it
would picked up by a hydrophone now. Morton scooped up everything, the tank,
the glowstick, Lee’s regulator and lunged for the
panel.
Crane was shouting
something about jitterbug and the control room, but Chip couldn’t make it out
over the blaring music. Then Lee stopped, got a peculiar expression on his face
and his eyes rolled up into his head from lack of oxygen.
Morton barely caught his
friend before he crashed to the deck. Chip forced the spare scuba mouthpiece
between his slack lips, dragging Crane into his lap to make him breathe from
the tank. God damn you, Lee Crane, don’t you dare die on me.
* * * * *
Everything was happening
too fast.
“Look, there’s a fin,” someone shouted.
The hydrophone operator
staggered back in his chair, flinging off his headphones. Then the man
recovered and threw the switch on his panel. Glenn Miller filled the control
room with swing music. His music program?!? Why the
hell would that respond when nothing else did? Randy came up
to him. Harry pulled himself together. It didn’t matter. “That’s only a
ten minute test pulse. I want their position pinpointed in five!”
“Already on it,” Miller
was grinning ear to ear.
“Seaview, this is
Crab One.” The music was abruptly joined by a transmission. “I am deploying the
plow per Dr. Ballard’s instruction. We expect to have the hatch clear for
docking in 20 minutes, maybe faster.”
“Carry on, Crab One.”
Nick acknowledged from the radio room, without asking anyone for permission.
“You did it,” Miller
said.
“No, Randy, we all did
it.” Nelson gripped the test monitor hard. They would find out soon enough if
they had done it in time.
* * * * *
Kowalski spun the wheel
on the Avalon’s escape hatch and lowered himself carefully into the
docking collar. He could see the still sandy top of the flying sub below him.
He didn’t know what he would find when he opened her up, but at least they had
located her. Not finding her was something he had been trying to avoid thinking
about all afternoon, particularly after Nelson had singled him out to help out
Frank on the Avalon, based on hisextensive
experience with the flying craft. Ski had never minded going anywhere with the
Skipper when he was needed. The Admiral had somehow known how frustrated he
was, sitting at his then useless sonar station.
Climbing down, Ski
brushed the lingering sand away and tried the override combination on the
outside hatch. Nothing was lit, so he wasn’t all that surprised when nothing
happened.
“Admiral,” he said into
his collar mic on the open channel. “Do you think
that test gizmo of yours will open the outer hatch? We have a good seal, but
she’s not responding.”
“I can try, Ski. You do
have the pry bar if it fails?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stand well away from
the edge and I’ll send the signal, but remember if you don’t get them out in
ten minutes, it’s going to close and you’ll have to call me to send the pulse
again.”
“I understand, sir.”
“On five,” Nelson
replied. “Stand by.”
“Frank! Get ready to
move as soon as you hear the sonar!” Ski yelled up into the Avalon,
silently counting.
PING!!!!
The flying sub hatch
dutifully slid open under his feet.
Kowalski flipped on his
head torch, donned his oxygen mask and reached down inside for the boarding
ladder, lining up his feet so he could slide down to the deck and out of
Frank’s way. He had barely cleared when he heard a whine
and Frank came down through the hatch on the breeches buoy.
“Over here.”
Frank’s headlamp turned
in his direction to the two khaki clad figures huddled together on the deck,
sharing a scuba tank. Frank bent close to Crane first as the more obviously
injured one with a bandaged head and the fact he was being cradled by the Exec.
Morton did not seem to notice their arrival, even though Kowalski could see his
chest moving up and down. Crane was dead white in the glow of their lamps and
barely breathing.
Frank snatched the
regulator away from Crane and replaced it with an oxygen bottle and began
pumping the sac rhythmically with one hand while he searched for a pulse with
the other.
“Dr. Ballard,” Frank
spoke into his oxygen mask mic. “Are you on the
winch?”
“Ready,” Ballard replied
in Ski’s ear.
“Here, Ski,” Frank came
on his comm line as he removed his hand from Crane’s
neck and thrust the breeches apparatus at him. “I have to get the Captain
topside stat before he arrests. Do it fast, but do it tight, we only have one
chance at this.”
Ski’s fingers flew over
the buckles and straps, the urgency lending him the speed he needed.
“Done.”
Frank looked at him.
“This is rated for two?”
“I once saw the Skipper
bring Bronowski up with it and I know you weigh less
than Al. Dr. Ballard, now.” Ski said into his own mic.
“I’ll send it right back
for you and the Exec,” Frank promised.
Kowalski nodded and took
hold of Morton to keep him out of the way of the winch line.
The whine returned and
the apparatus started to lift Crane from the deck. Frank rose with it, his free
arm under a strap as he continued to pump the oxygen with his other hand. The
two of them were lifted up and out through the hatch.
Ski glanced at his
watch. It was going to be close. He reached into his med pak
for an oxygen bottle and swapped it out for Morton’s regulator. Maybe he could
bring the Exec around with a fresh tank, he didn’t look particularly injured.
The whine of the winch
came through the hatch again and the breeches buoy smacked down on the deck.
Kowalski closed the oxygen bottle strap around Morton’s neck and once again did
a very rapid strap wrap on the Exec. Ten minutes was almost up.
“Haul him up, Dr.
Ballard. I’ll be right behind him.”
Kowalski was scrambling
up the ladder before Morton cleared the deck. He waited momentarily until
Morton passed him and them boosted himself up and out
of the flying sub.
He had barely gained his
feet when the hatch snicked closed.
“We’re clear, Admiral.”
Ski pulled off his oxygen mask so he could talk to Seaview on his collar
mic. “They were on scuba when we found them, in a bad
way but still alive.” Ski started climbing up the trunk to Avalon.
“We’ll get them home, sir.”
“I know you will, Ski.
Will is on with Frank. Good work.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As Kowalski came up into
the Avalon, he could see and hear all was not well. Ballard was trying get Morton out of the harness, but the Exec kept pushing him
away, frantic over something. Frank was rapidly talking to an open speaker,
bending over Crane, who lay limp on the deck with most of his khaki shirt and
tee hurriedly sliced away and tossed aside. Kowalski didn’t understand all the
terms that were flying over the air, but arrhythmia was one he did know and the
wild irregular peeping coming from Frank’s portable cardiac monitor was not
right.
“Ski!” Morton called to him. “Go help Frank!”
Kowalski knelt down next
to the distraught Exec. “Easy, sir. I don’t know
enough. I’ll get in the way.”
“No.” Morton shoved him
hard toward Crane. “You don’t understand. The last thing Lee remembers is
turning up the music to save me. He thinks his job is done! If he hears your
voice, he’ll know we were rescued. You have to get through to him! He’ll listen
to you. You have to save him!”
“What is he talking
about?” Ballard asked, but Kowalski was already moving down to the deck to
where the Captain lay.
“That’s Doc?” he asked
Frank, who had his hands full of Crane’s IV.
Frank nodded, continuing
to work.
“Doc! Mr. Morton just told me the Skipper needs to hear my voice. Want
me to try? I’ll stay out of Frank’s way.”
“Could help, Will.” Frank did not stop what he was doing.
“Do it!” Jamieson barked
over the mic.
“Take up his free hand,”
Morton’s hoarse voice came from behind him and he turned around. “Hold it as
hard as you can! And talk to him.” The Exec was leaning heavily on his
forearms, now out of the harness, fully conscious and extremely agitated.
“Skipper?” Kowalski lifted Crane’s cold hand into both of his and clutched
it tight. “Can you hear me? I’ve got to get you out of here. You have to help
me, sir. Mr. Morton has already gone up. It’s time to go, Skipper.”
“Come on, Lee. Don’t
give up now!” It almost sounded like the Exec was praying.
Crane twitched, but the
too rapid tenor peeping of the monitor remained unchanged. Kowalski tried
again.
“Wake up, Skipper. I’ve
got to get you home. You have to help me, sir. I can’t do it alone.”
“Tell him the Admiral
will kill you if you don’t bring him back,” Morton said.
“Tell him I will
kill him if he doesn’t wake up,” Jamieson added from the speaker.
Kowalski rolled his
eyes.
“Somebody keep talking!” Frank broke in. “His pulse just jumped.”
“Skipper, are you there?
We have to go, sir. We were looking for you for such a long time. Now we found
you ...”
Crane rolled his head to
one side and twitched even harder.
“Doc!” Frank looked up. “The IV’s kicking in. He’s coming back up. Sinus rhythm!”
The wildly erratic
monitor tone abruptly changed to the more normal measured peep that Kowalski
was used to hearing.
“Thank God!” Morton
sounded exhausted and Kowalski heard a dull thump behind him. He turned to find
Dr. Ballard holding up an unconscious Chip Morton.
“Will one of you please
help me with this guy?” the marine geologist asked plaintively.
Ski looked back at Frank
and raised an eyebrow. Frank ducked his head slightly to hide his smile.
“No, don’t let go.”
Frank said, as Kowalski straightened up, ready to aid Ballard. “You stay here.
The Skipper needs something to hang on to until we get him to the Infirmary and
that’s you. The Exec will be all right in Dr. Ballard’s hands until we dock. I
think I’d be more worried about him if he hadn’t passed out after that.”
Kowalski spared an
amused glance for the geologist. “Cheer up, Dr. Ballard,
none of us can do anything with him, either. Give him a couple of whiffs from
that bottle around his neck and he’ll come around again.”
“I don’t think he likes
me.”
“Don’t worry about
that,” Kowalski replied, with a grin. “Once he finds out what you did, he’s gonna love you.”
* * * * *
Nelson boosted himself
up into the back of the ambulance and pulled the door shut behind him. He heard
the passenger side door slam as well. Jamieson’s voice carried through the
opening at the front, telling the driver to get going.
Harry quickly slid onto
the empty bench to his left and nodded at the paramedic who was working up a
report on Chip Morton. “Thanks for waiting for us to arrive, Gene.”
“No problem, sir.” The
Institute paramedic grinned. “He’ll behave now you’re both aboard. He keeps
trying to tell me he doesn’t need all this.”
Chip frowned under the
oxygen mask, but remained silent.
Harry slid a little
farther down the bench. “You did hit a sea cliff,” he said conversationally.
“You think Gene might know what he’s doing?”
Chip glared at him a
moment, then went limp in acquiescence, turning his head away. “I wasn’t
driving.” His voice was muffled by the oxygen mask.
“I know,” Harry
acknowledged, then reached out to touch his Executive
Officer on the arm that was not plugged into an IV. “Some
joyride, eh?”
Chip looked up at him
again and Harry was surprised how much pain he saw in his eyes. A slight
shudder went through the Exec’s body. Nelson closed his hand around Morton’s
biceps in silent support for what the man had obviously gone through. Chip was
one of the calmest people he knew, but he didn’t have to be a genius to know
what was upsetting him. Those first few minutes aboard the Avalon had
been intense. Harry couldn’t imagine what spending almost five hours in that
situation had been like. “Lee give you a rough time
after he was injured?”
Chip closed his eyes and
for a moment Harry wasn’t sure he’d answer him. Then the Exec swallowed hard
and reopened his eyes.
“He did and he didn’t,”
Morton admitted from under the mask. “He knew he was hurt, yet he kept trying
to save me. I did what I could for him, but I’m no doctor. It was so
frustrating, nothing worked, I couldn’t get help -- ”
Gene reached over and
pressed the oxygen mask down lightly.
“Breathe, don’t talk, or
I’m never going to get you in balance.” The paramedic shot a warning glance at
Harry. “I’ve been monitoring the other ambulance on my headset. Captain Crane
is responding to treatment. Which is more than I can say for
you.”
Nelson had to struggle
to keep a straight face at the last remark, but luckily Chip turned away at
that moment to glare at the paramedic.
He patted Morton lightly
on the arm to distract him. “Steady, Chip. I can’t afford to have Gene toss me
out of here. We’re still moving.”
“Aye, sir. Thanks for finding us in time.”
“You probably kept him
alive, you know,” Harry offered. “He couldn’t give up as long as you needed
him.”
Morton turned his gaze
back to him. “We help each other.”
“I know.” Harry
acknowledged and then smiled, gazing down fondly at his Exec.
Chip let out a heavy
sigh and a ghost of a smile played around his lips at that concession. Morton
glanced up at the paramedic. “Is Lee really improving?” he demanded.
“Yes, they have arrived
at the Infirmary and they will cancel the code blue watch any minute now with
the vital signs I just heard.”
“So when do we get
there?” Morton muttered.
“Soon,” Gene promised.
“But you’re not going anywhere until your IV is done. Then we’ll see where
you’ll spend the night.”
“Spend the night? No way!” Chip half rose on the gurney, but Gene pressed him
down just as firmly.
“Keep this up and I
won’t give you the room next door to the Captain, so you can sneak in and check
on him all hours of the night. Right, Doc?”
“Right,” Jamieson agreed
through the open port. “You’re in our care now. Shape up, mister.”
Nelson raised his hands
as Morton turned back to him. “Don’t look at me. It’s not my jurisdiction.”
Chip rolled his eyes
upward and subsided. Then he began to smile. A wicked smile.
One that boded no good for whatever he was planning.
“What?” Nelson asked,
but he did not expect to get an answer.
“You’ll find out,”
Morton promised.
* * * * *
Chip woke at the light
touch on his arm. His Infirmary room had been dark, but now had enough light
on, so he could see who roused him.
“Jamie?” he questioned,
not quite awake yet.
Doc smiled down at him.
“Lee will have everyone calling me that sooner or later.”
Chip hitched up on one
elbow. “How’s he doing?”
“Better. In fact, he’s
the reason I woke you up. Lee came to on his own a
little while ago. And he wanted to know where you were.”
“You did tell him I was
here and okay?”
“Yes. He knows you were
rescued, but what he wants is to see you are all right.”
Chip sat up and every
muscle in his torso protested. “Ah--”
”A little stiff?” Jamieson asked, placing a supporting hand under his elbow. “Well,
I know what therapy to order for you tomorrow.”
Morton slid gingerly to
the edge of the bed. “Think I’ll make it across the hall?”
“I wouldn’t have woken
you if I thought otherwise. Hobble on over there and put him at ease. Shouldn’t take more than 10 minutes for him to go down. He’s
still half out of it from the concussion.”
“Is Lee okay?”
“He will be, once he
heals. Considering what Lee could have come home with, the worst of it is the
bruises.”
Chip lifted himself off
the bed. His ribs were not happy about it, but he could move.
Jamieson steadied him as
he came to his feet and Chip found his balance. “You will come retrieve me if I
find I can’t get back?”
Doc smiled. “Sleeping in
the chair tonight is not something I’d recommend. Go. Reassure him. I’ll make
sure you get back.”
“Thanks,
Will.”
Chip slowly and
carefully left his room and walked into the one across the hall. This one was
also lit enough for him to see where he needed to go. An empty chair was next
to the bed, probably for the Admiral.
Morton slid into the
chair gratefully. As long he didn’t try to use any muscles he was fine. What
had Crane called that - harness lash?
Lee was asleep again.
Chip was surprised there was only one IV line. The proper cervical collar for
his injury was around Crane’s neck and a large bandage was wrapped around his
head. The cardiac monitor peeped with an almost hypnotic rhythm. Lee’s eyes
were closed and he was breathing softly and regularly. Chip reached out and
took up his friend’s hand that lay slack on the bed. Sleep was good, he would talk to Lee later.
“If you are waiting for
the secret handshake,” Crane’s low husky voice almost made him jump. “I don’t
think I can remember how that goes, at the moment.”
Chip pressed the hand
that lay in his. “So you are awake. I couldn’t tell. Will said
you were asking for me. Here I am.”
Crane sighed. “I asked
him if you were alive. I didn’t ask him to roust you out of bed.”
“I was awake anyway. I’m
a little too sore to sleep well. Besides,” Chip leaned forward and tucked the
flipped over end of Lee’s blanket back in place. “It gave me free pass to see
how you are doing. They have kept us apart since we left Avalon.”
“Jamie told me what you
said to Ski,” Crane turned his head carefully, “And I think I remember at least
two other times --”
”I told you and I know
you heard me,” Chip gripped Lee’s hand hard once. “Not on my watch,
mister! And the next time you want to test a rudder modification, count me
out.”
“They probably won’t let
me fly alone anymore, after this,” Crane replied seriously. “Chip, I –- You
saved my life today, more than once and I almost killed you.”
“No, you didn’t. It was
an accident or a bad design or a wind sheer or a
hundred other things, but it wasn’t you. Let it go, Lee. It can’t be doing you
any good to worry about this. Or me.”
“If you tell me to go to
sleep, so help me -– ”
Morton grinned. “Don’t
tempt me.”
Crane suddenly squeezed
his hand. “Will you accept thank you?”
“Yes, I will. You know
you’d do the same for me. I seem to remember two times you -–
” Chip trailed off as Crane closed his eyes. “I’m keeping you awake.”
“Feels good to be awake. And alive,” Crane opened one eye slowly. “Now could you do
anything about this tendency of my head to keep falling off sideways?”
“Oh. Owww.” Morton grimaced.
“Don’t make me laugh, Lee, it hurts too much.”
Crane smiled and it was
a beautiful thing to see. Chip knew then Lee would be all right. There were
some things worth beating the odds for.
* * * * *
Nelson walked into
Jamieson’s office. It was a little later than he had planned to be back, but
hopefully his absence had gone unnoticed. Lee may not have wanted to sleep all
day, but it was probably the best thing for him.
Doc looked up at his
entrance and smiled a greeting. “Good news?” Jamieson indicated the report in
his hand.
Nelson shrugged. “Six of
one ... it will delay the cruise.”
“The cruise is already
delayed, but we both know we’d rather have that than two funerals,” Jamieson
granted.
“They
behaving themselves?”
“You can have Morton
back, but I’m not sure he’ll go yet,” Jamieson shrugged. “He knows he’s handy
to have around when Lee gets stubborn. If you can spare him, Lee is less likely
to ask to go if Morton is still here.”
“Let Chip come back when
he’s ready, then. He has a good team, they can finish the loading. He is
only a comm call away.”
“Lee can go back to
light duty in a few days. I want to be sure, with the concussion. He is much
more with us today then he was last night. Enough to know you were not there
when we woke him up this afternoon for a vitals check.”
“He said something?”
“Of course not! Chip picked up on it as well.”
Harry lifted the report.
“This should make it up to Lee. I plan to keep him in the loop on the flying
sub recovery. So you can keep him here longer than he might be disposed to
stay, if he weren’t involved.”
Will nodded. “Should work. Go bring him up to date and then have dinner
with him.”
Nelson turned to go out
the door. “Thanks, Will.”
Jamieson smiled. “It’s
not standard therapy, but no sense fighting something that works with him. I
need every advantage I can get.”
“He is a handful,” Harry
granted.
Jamieson made a shooing
motion. “Go fix the damn rudder. I don’t want Lee back here again as a result
of this particular problem. Twice was quite enough, thank you.”
“Aye, sir.” Harry grinned. “I think I have solved -– ”
“Spare me,” Will interrupted. “Tell him.”
Nelson walked across the
main room of the Infirmary to the hallway that marked the entrance to the
semi-private rooms. Leaning around the door of the first one, he wanted to give
Chip Morton a quick hello, but the rumpled bed was empty. The therapy must have
worked that morning if he was mobile again. Harry wondered idly where Chip was,
then shrugged. He’d turn up.
Harry crossed the hall
to the other room. Of course, Lee was there, in much the same position as this
morning, but the IV was gone, his bandage was smaller and he looked less pale.
Crane was asleep. Nelson smiled. Maybe he wouldn’t wake him just yet.
He quietly slid into the
chair and began reading the report again. He didn’t know if Lee would be happy
with the results or not, but there was no arguing with the report’s conclusion.
“Is that my bedtime
story?” Lee’s low, half-awake voice brought his head up out of the papers.
Crane’s eyes were open now. Harry could see that he was much less groggy than
the last time he had visited.
“No.” Nelson
half-scowled, knowing Lee would know he didn’t mean it. “But I will read it to
you, if you like.”
Crane hitched himself
slightly higher in bed. “Which report is it?”
Harry turned back to the
first page and pretended to scan the title. “I won’t bore you with all the
details, but they did some computer simulations with your flight test data to
find out why you crashed. They found out that under certain conditions, a
vibration starts and there can only be one outcome. The rudder sheers off.”
Nelson paused for his words to sink in with Crane. “It’s a design limitation.
If we push the edge too far, she won’t fly at all. The waffle is an early
signal that the vibration is about to happen. Doesn’t matter what we do to the
rudder, once that’s in motion ...”
Lee frowned. Nelson
could see he understood what he was being told, now
he’d have to see how Crane took it.
“So when she starts to
waffle -– ”
“You ease her back.”
Nelson reached out and laid his hand lightly on Crane’s upturned knee. “I’ll
not have what happened, happen again. I’ll leave the report here so you see
what the limits are and can factor that into your flying the next time you take
her out.”
Lee looked over at his
touch. “I’m grounded until the investigation is over. Are you sure you want me
reinstated?”
“Don’t talk nonsense.
This wasn’t your fault. We’ll patch you both back up in time for the cruise and
you can -– ”
Lee’s hand closed over
his. “You’re supposed to take away the keys when I wreck, not give me back the
vehicle.”
Harry raised an eyebrow.
“It was only the rudder. I’ll get over it.”
Lee released his hand
and relaxed back into the pillow. “Chip tell you how
well the glowsticks worked for us?”
“No. But you can,”
Nelson replied.
Crane smirked. “They
have an unanticipated side effect.”
“Anything I need to
change?”
“No. The green is a good
color.” Crane’s smile twisted sideways. “Unless you are
blond.”
Nelson thought about it
a minute, then grinned. “How bad?”
“The crew will
definitely see him coming,” Lee started to laugh and caught himself. “Ah, not a
good idea,” he said, taking a few deep breaths to steady down.
“Will said
you’d be sore. Tomorrow I’m going to look into getting you a stronger harness.
Speaking of Morton, do you know where he is? His room is empty.”
“Oh. Chip was with me
most of the afternoon, after they woke me up. He left about half an hour ago. Said he had to go do something.”
“Which he has now
finished.” Chip came into the room
with a covered tray that he slid down on to Lee’s bedside table. “Good to have
you back with us, sir,” he said to Nelson in greeting. Harry looked him up and
down. Aside from a slight hitch when he moved, Morton seemed to be recovered.
“What’s on the tray?”
Nelson asked, as he saw Lee lean forward in anticipation.
“Just what the doctor
ordered,” Chip replied noncommittally.
Lee’s excitement
subsided at that.
Morton leaned down and
whisked the towel off the tray with a flourish. Sitting in the middle of it was
a large salad bowl, filled to the brim with applesauce.
Lee made a strangled
noise and went rigid, then he slowly started to topple
toward Harry.
Nelson was on his feet,
catching Lee up against him before Crane could fall over. As his arm closed
around Lee, he realized he was not convulsing in pain, he was laughing. And
apparently Crane could not stop.
Chip sank down on the
end of the bed, holding his side as he too, was overcome by mirth.
Lee latched onto Harry’s
shirt and dragged himself upright. “Oh ... God,” he gasped. “That ... hurts.”
But he continued to shake with laughter.
Morton was doubled over
and in real danger of falling off the bed, but he couldn’t let go of Lee to aid
Chip. Nelson leaned over slightly and hit the call button with his elbow.
He needed help from at
least one other rational person.
Jamieson came striding
through the door and stopped dead.
Harry shrugged as he
continued to hold Lee up the best he could. “Did you order applesauce for Lee?”
he asked over the shaking, contorted bodies of his overly amused officers.
“No.” Will moved quickly
to prop up Chip before he hit the floor. “Lee can’t stand the stuff. I had to
find some other way to medicate him.”
Their question and
answer sent Crane off into yet another uncontrollable spasm of laughter.
“Chip obviously knows
something we don’t,” Jamieson said. “I guess we’ll have to wait for them to
calm down to find out what it is.”
“Why do I think they are
never going to tell us.” Harry relaxed, feeling a grin
tugging at the corners of his mouth.
His boys were still very
much alive and at it again.
The End
©Diane Kachmar, Chris Witherspoon, and Liz Martin, 2003. All rights reserved.