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.