This is a Second Season story that was inspired by a missing episode “The Surfers” which was filmed, but didn't make it to post production for being too violent, and too expensive to produce. It was supposed to introduce the new character Stu Riley, but instead the fun loving surfing dude was quietly inserted without any fanfare. So since we fans were denied this episode I decided to provide my own version of the story, which I can assure you, looks nothing like the original!

The Surfers

by Lynn

Lee Crane drove along Highway 101 headed north. The top was down on his red Shelby Cobra and he was enjoying the ride in his beloved car. He just completed a mission for ONI and had returned from Washington DC via a commercial flight to LAX. The ride was a nice unwinding time for him, as the mission he'd been on required a lot of concentration and subterfuge to complete. He had been gone a week, and truth be told, he was tired. Even the wind whipping through his hair and across his face couldn't quite keep him as alert as he should be. Up ahead, he spotted a young man with his thumb out. What caught his attention most was the surfboard leaning on the young blonde’s shoulder. He'd have a hard time getting a ride with that surfboard in tow. What the heck? Lee thought. As far as he could tell he didn't look like an ax murderer or anything, and he really could use some light conversation to pass the time as he made his way to Santa Barbara.

Lee pulled over just beyond the young man as he closed the distance obviously happy about the ride.

“How far are you going?” Lee asked as the young blond approached the car, expecting him to be headed to Santa Cruz or the like.

“To Santa Barbara, dude.”

Lee took off his sunglasses, he hadn't been just a “dude” in a long time and smiled back at the blond. “You're in luck, that's where I'm headed. Stow your board in the back and hop in.” Lee said as he reached over and pulled the passenger seat forward creating a nice tight spot for the surfboard to ride standing on end.

The young man cocked his head, studying Lee without his shades as recognition hit him, “Whoa! Dude! You're that submarine captain, right?”

Lee was surprised, he usually wasn't recognized quite so quickly without his uniform as most people associate a person within the original element in which they meet.

Lee smiled and reached a hand out in introduction, “Lee Crane, and you are?”

The young man smiled broadly and leaned over to shake Lee's hand as he answered, “Stu Riley, dude.” Then he placed his board in back behind his seat and hopped into the car without opening the door, dropping his duffel bag between his feet. It was a tight fit, but well worth the ride into town.

Lee replaced his sunglasses and pulled back onto the picturesque highway that paralleled the Pacific Ocean.

“So Stu...is that short for Stuart?” Lee asked for no particular reason.

“Yeah man, and can I tell you it's a bummer being named after a short mouse that talks.* So all the dudes call me Stu.”

Lee chuckled, “Yeah, I guess that might be a little embarrassing.”

“My Granddad wanted to name me Casey, you know like Casey Jones?** Now that's a name!” Stu said wishfully his eyes looking upwards, silently contemplating the cool name.

Lee just smiled, “What's an experienced surfer like you headed to Santa Barbara for?” He asked, curious about his destination when the better waves were found in Ventura.

“Dude, haven't you heard about the killer waves they're expecting in Santa Barbara?” Stu asked in unbelief, as if everyone should know about that.

Lee nodded, “Yeah, I do seem to recall some changes in the ocean currents, the sub's parked for a couple of weeks, so I haven't paid too close attention to them.”

“The waves are drawing surfer dudes from all around, and there's going to be coverage from Wide World of Sports, and even a Competition. I'm going to enter it, there's a lot of bread at stake.”

Lee smiled, the young man was very likable.

“Dude, this is some car. Did it, like, cost you an arm and a leg?”

“Something like that,” Lee chuckled. “Radical!” Stu replied, patting the car with his right hand. They proceeded onward and talked about nothing important but one thing was for sure, he wasn't going to fall asleep. Stu Riley kept him on his toes just translating his jargon back into English!

They pulled into town and waited at a stop light. “Where are you staying Stu? I'll drive you there.”

“Cool man, but I'm headed straight to Ledbetter.”

“You're in luck again, The Nelson Institute is near there at West Beach.”

Stu smiled at this awesome stroke of good fortune and enjoyed his ride. Soon they arrived at Ledbetter Beach and already Lee could see the large gathering of surfers. Santa Barbara has its own loyal surfers, but nothing like this. Lee looked over at Stu who was practically salivating at the idea of catching the waves on the next tide, but he remembered his good manners and turned to Lee extending his hand.

“Captain Dude, you are one cool cat. Thanks a million.”

“Sure Stu, glad to help. Be careful out there,” Lee gently admonished as Stu retrieved his board.

“I will Dude, I mean Sir,” as he pulled off a quick salute. Lee smiled and saluted back and pulled out of the parking lot with a smile. He was only a few blocks from the Institute. NIMR was situated at the industrial beach of West Beach not far from the break waters. Most of NIMR was private and secret, but the buildings seen from the road looked very much like the research facility they were. What wasn't widely known was the military security that was required to keep Seaview's technology secure. Harry had hired his own private security team and NIMR was as secure as any military base around.

Lee drove past NIMR about five miles to his house, also situated on the beach. He found the place in the first two weeks he had been in Santa Barbara. It was perfect in that the beach was mostly private and touted a long sandy stretch for his morning runs. The view was spectacular, and oh yeah, the house wasn't bad either.

He pushed the button on his garage door opener, a real luxury but definitely worth it, and parked the Cobra in its “berth”. He turned off the key and sighed. He could really go for a hot shower and then hit the sack. He wasn't even sure he was going to eat. He unloaded his ever present black backpack that always accompanied him to DC. He rarely got the full scoop on a mission over the phone, and so his backpack was ready for several contingencies. He entered the house ignoring the answering machine and headed straight for the shower. He didn't eat and ended up in the sack early. He was out like a light, grateful for his own bed and the security of his own home.

* * * * *

Lee left for work bright and early the next morning, hoping to catch up on his in-box before the rest of the office arrived. As he drove off he caught sight of another surfer holding his board with his thumb out. This guy wore a bright orange and black striped t-shirt and unlike Stu Riley did look like an ax murderer, so Lee passed him by and proceeded on to NIMR.

“Good morning, Captain Crane.”

“Good morning, Jackson,” Lee returned the greeting from the security guard at the Institute's front gate.

“It's good to see you looking so well,” Jackson said, obviously doing a once over, looking for signs of Lee's last ONI mission and any possible need for the Captain to visit MedBay.

“Thanks Jackson. Have a good day,” Lee smiled and put the Cobra in gear and as he raised his eyes caught a glimpse of orange and black in his rear view mirror. He did a double take but the distinctive orange and black striped shirt was nowhere to be found. He smiled at Jackson again, and drove past the gate wondering about the likelihood of the surfer getting a ride and then being dropped off in front of the Institute. He shrugged it off, but filed it away as something to look out for and parked his car.

As expected he wasn't the only early bird in the office as he swung by Admiral Nelson's office to say hello before he started his day.

“Good morning, Sir,” he said peering around the partly opened door.

“Lee. Good morning, I heard you were back in town.”

Lee knew exactly where he had heard it from, as Harry kept tabs on his ONI missions. He knew that Johnson and Harry had an agreement, and that Harry was well aware that his mission was complete and that he was injury free.

“Yes Sir, last night. I was about to make some coffee, would you like a cup?” Lee offered graciously.

“Thanks, but I'm on my third cup already,” Harry replied, as he scanned the unrolled blueprints in front of him. “What do you think, Lee?” He said returning to his thoughtful contemplation as Lee crossed the room and deposited his hip on the edge of Harry's desk leaning over to see what the Admiral was pointing to.

“I'm looking at adding robotic arms to FS1, and I have a couple of choices where to place them,” Harry said as he thought out loud.

Lee enjoyed these impromptu brainstorming sessions and followed Harry's finger as he pointed out the possible locations. Lee nodded, looked thoughtfully and pointed to one of the spots Harry pointed out.

“I like this spot, Sir. It think it will fit in Seaview's berth better.”

Harry smiled and sat back in his black leather executive chair with a smile, “That was my first thought as well.” Harry was pleased to have gotten the confirmation he needed as Lee rose from the desk.

“Well, I'm going to hit the breakroom for coffee and then try and wade through the in-box in my office.” Lee declared. “Wish me luck,” he quipped. “If you don't hear from me by noon send in a rescue party,” Lee finished, joking about the inevitable pile he'd find on his desk.

Harry smiled, and Lee returned it with one of his own dazzling smiles, accompanied with a chuckle.

Lee entered the breakroom and started the coffee and then headed to his office at the end of the hall. He passed by a window and stopped. Slowly he turned around and peered through the side trying to get a view of the courtyard below without revealing his presence. There was no doubt about it, another flash of that orange and black shirt only this time on NIMR grounds.

Seeing nothing, he entered his office depositing his soft leather briefcase on his desk and dialed up Jackson at the security gate.

“Jackson, have you admitted any visitors this morning?”

“No, Sir. The only other person who passed was Commander Morton, just a few minutes ago.”

“Very well,” Lee conceded, and shook his head. The last week of playing Super Spy for ONI had him jumpy he decided and sat forward to attack his in-box.

Lee greeted each of the well-wishers of the day, it seemed everyone needed to confirm that Lee was back in one piece. He was slightly annoyed at the over-attention he was receiving and decided next time he'd have to sport at least one bruise. He got far less attention when he came back with the expected boo-boo or two. Lee smiled to himself, he did enjoy the good friends he had and decided to just grin and bear it.

At noon, he heard a knock on his partly opened door and looked up to see Chip standing at the door with his cover in his hand.

“The Admiral said I should come rescue you from your evil and twisted in-box for lunch,” Chip said with a grin.

Lee tossed his pen on the blotter and leaned back with a stretch as he answered, “Okay, sounds good.”

They decided to eat off grounds and piled into Chip's Camaro.

“Okay, where to?” Chip asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“I've been craving a burger from Joey's,” Lee replied honestly. Chip nodded, knowing that Lee didn't eat much on missions and probably hadn't eaten the night before. Joey's hamburgers and onion rings were big enough for three meals. Just right, Chip thought.

“Okay, Joey's it is,” Chip said as he pulled up to the gate to sign out.

“There he is again,” Lee said out-loud as he caught another glimpse of the bright orange and black striped shirt. As soon as he spotted it, it was gone again.

“Who?”

“This surfer in an orange and black shirt. I've seen him three times this morning, this one makes four.”

“Orange and black,” Chip repeated with a raised eyebrow, “That would be hard to miss.”

Lee nodded in agreement.

“Should we go back and report to security?”

Lee nodded in the negative, “Nah. Let's eat lunch, we'll talk to security on the way in. It's probably nothing anyway. I picked up a young surfer on the ride in yesterday, and this guy probably just heard about it.”

It sounded perfectly reasonable to both of them and they proceeded on to their date with the huge hamburger at Joey's.

On the way back in they alerted Security about the surfer in case he approached the gate, and went back to work.

* * * * *

Around 1500, Lee needed a break and headed for the breakroom to refill his carafe. As he passed by the window he spotted the bright shirt again as he frustratedly sat his carafe on the window sill, “That's it!” Lee turned to take the stairs down determined to find out just what the guy wanted and how he had made it onto the Institute grounds in the first place.

When he reached the outside door he scanned the area. He caught sight of the shirt rounding a corner and took off after him. This game of cat and mouse was getting annoying. He needed to alert Security, but he didn't want the guy to slip away again so he continued his pursuit. Once he rounded the corner he stopped and scanned again and spotted the guy heading for the sub pen. Now it was getting dangerous, as Lee thought through the chances of sabotage or technological espionage. But the surfer headed past the pen and began trotting towards the open beach. Lee entered into a full run, and the surfer picked up speed, checking over his shoulder from time to time.

The surfer had some distance over him, and had the advantage of being dressed for the beach whereas Lee was dressed for the office in his khaki's complete with tie and oxfords. Still, he poured on the steam to close the distance as the surfer rounded the reef that effectively kept intruders off Institute property. When he rounded the reef he realized that the tide was out, and the chain link fence that kept beach combers from wandering on the private property had a nice hole in it, obviously cut with bolt cutters.

Lee worked his way through and poured on the steam to catch up with the orange and black shirt ahead of him. The surfer could have easily melted in with the other people on the beach, except for that wild shirt he was wearing. Lee was effectively closing the distance as the crowd of people up ahead got thicker. He was nearly at Ledbetter Beach, and the expected high surfs had drawn quite a crowd. Lee didn't want to lose the guy and pulled out extra steam to close the distance before the surfer could get lost in the crowd.

Then suddenly, the surfer took a sharp turn to the left and disappeared into the sand bank. Lee breathed hard and continued to watch for the intruder, when he reached the spot where he turned he saw where the surfer had disappeared to; a culvert pipe that drained rain water from the swollen river into the ocean. The river wasn't anything more than a stream right now, and the pipe was completely accessible, so Lee bent down and began to crawl through the opening. It wasn't the most pleasant of things as the pipe smelled of stagnant water and a host of bacterial fungus leaving a sloppy slimy grime on the rocks he crawled over.

He spied a light up ahead and then the light went out. He was guided to the spot by a tiny hole coming from the top of a ladder. Slowly Lee rose and began the ascent, it looked like a manhole cover and he expected to exit at the beach parking lot. The cover was slightly ajar, and Lee listened for a moment before he lifted the heavy round cover and moved it over. As soon as his head cleared the hole he was immediately greeted with a gun aimed at his forehead, sported by the surfer wearing the orange and black striped t-shirt.

He motioned Lee upwards and Lee realized that he wasn't in the parking lot at all, but in a building. This was bad. He had been expertly lured here, and like an idiot he'd fallen for it! He groaned to himself. When Lee cleared the manhole he was greeted by name.

“Welcome Captain Crane.”

Lee turned toward the sound of the voice and tried not to look surprised as he recognized the man before him as one of the bad guys he had seen during his week-long surveillance mission for ONI.

Lee said nothing as he was motioned away from the manhole and into another room. He was surrounded by men, and something told him he was about to sport those bruises he had wished for earlier.

The leader's name was Bruno, and he was as rough and dangerous as his name implied from what Lee had observed of him earlier in the week.

“My boss wants to know what you found and reported to your superiors in Washington,” Bruno asked as he stretched his arms before him, readying himself to deliver the expected blows.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Lee lied, and gave Bruno his best command stare.

“Come on, Captain Crane. You spent a week in Morocco. I must say you were good. We didn't spot you until it was too late. We missed grabbing you at the airport, and lost you at LAX. Do you know how hard it is to trace a man who doesn't have his phone number and address listed in the phone book, Crane?” Bruno said, bouncing his fist off his open hand in a move meant to intimidate Lee.

“We know you've already passed your information off,” he continued as the “surfer” moved in closer to Lee, “All we want to know is what you passed on. Save yourself some trouble. You've already completed your mission, what could it hurt to cooperate?” He finished, smiling as if he were being completely reasonable.

“I have nothing to say,” Lee answered, steeling himself for the inevitable beating. The grip on his arms tightened and Bruno advance landing several solid blows to Lee's chin. Bruno waited for only a second for Lee to start talking and then pursed his lips at his silence and continued with his blows to Lee's face and sides.

He worked him over for about ten minutes and then backed away as “surfer” stepped forward, this time sporting brass knuckles as Bruno lifted Lee's head by his hair to see what was coming. They raised him up and Surfer took over until Lee's ragged breathing could be heard amidst groans. The brass knuckles had split his lip and he was bleeding rather profusely from it, but mostly Surfer had concentrated on his gut.

“Take him to his cell,” he distantly heard as he was dragged away with his feet barely under him. He was deposited in a small room, more than likely a cleared storeroom or closet and laid heavily on a cot trying to put air into his lungs again. He did a quick assessment and realized that although he felt a few cracks he had managed to escape the beating without any broken ribs, and despite the whipping back and forth of his head he wasn't dizzy. So his ribs were in place, and other than a terrific headache, he didn't think he had a concussion. All he needed was enough time to recover, and then he would look for an opportunity to escape.

He closed his eyes as his breathing slowed, and found himself succumbing to the darkness and a welcome reprieve from the pain.

* * * * *

Stu Riley was laying on his board paddling into shore. He'd have to wait until later this afternoon for the better waves and thought it was time for nourishment. His job at the board shop in Ventura had afforded him this trip, but he still had to be careful with how he spent his hard earned dough. As he was paddling he saw a curious sight. The surfer dude running wasn't so unusual, but the guy in tan sporting a black tie looked like he was chasing him. Now surfer dudes stick together, so he paddled closer watching the surfer in the way cool orange and black t-shirt slip inside a culvert pipe. The guy in the tie was closing fast, and as Stu closed the distance he suddenly recognized the “suit” chasing the surfer. It was Captain Crane.

The Captain followed the surfer and disappeared inside the pipe as well. A surfer checking out a culvert pipe on the beach wasn't unheard of, but the Captain of the totally awesome sub with windows crawling through that smelly pipe signaled something wasn't right.

Stu was a little torn between whether to help the “suit” when he was chasing a surfer dude, but the Captain was a pretty cool cat. So Stu followed, pretty sure that Crane was the good guy in this little adventure. It took him a bit to paddle in, but he stowed his “stick” in the sand upright and proceeded to crawl through the pipe.

The gross, rotten, putrid smell assaulted him as he crawled through but the more he crawled the more he was sure the Captain needed his assistance. He was sure that there was a very good reason for that cool cat to crawl through this pipe in his clean captain's threads.

He spotted a small light up ahead, good thing 'cause he was losing his light from the tunnel entrance. He followed the light to the ladder and gratefully stood erect as he climbed as quietly as he could, the whole thing reminding him of the spy flicks he'd seen on TV. As he neared the top he could hear the sounds of voices, and stayed just below the manhole to hear. The voices were coming from another room, but the door was open and he could hear what sounded like threats being made against the Captain.

The cover above his head was ajar and so he risked moving his head up to see and caught shadows on the wall. The grunts that accompanied the shadows left no doubt what was happening. He ducked and stayed on the ladder, thinking things through. He'd have to figure a way to help the Captain, and hoped they didn't mess him up too bad before he could come up with a plan. He hunkered down, and waited for his opportunity; a little while longer and he heard noises as he risked another peek and spotted a bloody, very messed up Captain Crane being dragged to a small room. He ducked again, his heart beating something fierce. If they headed for the manhole he'd be so busted, but the bad guys went back into the other room and began speaking in tones too low to hear. They were still too close, he'd just have to wait until they moved further away, so Stu hung out and chilled.

* * * * *

Lee's reprieve from pain was short as he woke up gasping. He wasn't ready to venture into a sitting position yet and as he breathed through the pain his mind wandered back to the mission that had started this whole mess.

Lee had been sent into the African country of Morocco. He was watching a certain jet-setter and was there to ascertain why he had been purchasing extremely sensitive electronic components. Each component in itself was quite innocent, but the accumulation of the components over the last year was signaling a dangerous combination. Lee had accessed his large and highly fortified home, and had made his way to the building in the compound that looked like it was anything but domestic. He watched delivery trucks, and workers arrive but still didn't know what was being built inside. He made his way to a window and entered, grabbing a “clean room” white environment suit. The suit effectively hid his face as he walked around the electronics manufacturing plant. The clean room was used for the circuit boards that were being produced here, where one small fingerprint would make the unit useless.

He even managed to watch one of the experiments in action. A smaller version prototype, he heard someone say, of a powerful laser. He watched the laser as it first penetrated a five inch concrete wall, and then bored a clean hole through another concrete wall on the other side. Everyone lowered their dark shielding glasses as Lee stepped back to hear their conclusions. The laser was just phase one of the weapon they were developing. Phase two entailed a plot to infiltrate the main banking computers of the world, transfer funds, and then destroy the satellites that connected the banking world together. He heard the scientists say six more months before they could move from prototype to the full scale laser. The “big wigs” who were there to see the demonstration nodded in approval stating that their attempts to break into the world's banking computers would be ready about the same time, as they were developing satellite technology to simultaneously gain access and move assets before the computer trail would be erased. A computer simulation was presented outlining the entire scheme complete with colorful animation giving a graphic and visual explanation of the entire project. As Lee watched he learned that it was more than an enormous bank heist. It was a grand scheme to change the balance of power in the world by ruining the existing economies of certain countries.

By the time he was done with his recon, he had ensconced enough paper trail and photo evidence, along with the intelligence he overheard to get ONI working on stopping the ploy. If he cracked now and told them what they wanted to know, they would likely pull up all stakes before ONI could shut them down. The fact that they were here now told him they hadn't traced him directly to the compound; otherwise, they wouldn't be bothering to keep him alive. No, they were fishing for information. Someone who knew who he was had tipped them off, but they didn't know what he saw or what plans were being made against them.

He was just now working through this information when the door opened and Bruno and Surfer entered the room. Lee knew he was in trouble when he saw the hypodermic needle. Not again, he groaned inwardly and steeled himself for round two.

“Captain Crane. Do the words Office of Naval Intelligence mean anything to you?” Bruno said, taunting Lee with the fact that they knew he doubled as an Operative.

Lee remained quiet as Bruno continued. “Perhaps you didn't realize being a Spy for ONI was something we knew about?” He paused dramatically. “Oh wait, you don't use the word “spy”, I believe the preferred word is Field Operative.” The last two words were delivered with considerable disdain. “Well Crane, we don't like spies, but I'm going to give you a chance to redeem yourself. Tell me what you reported to Washington and we'll let you go.”

Lee sported the strongest, “Get lost” look he could and watched as Bruno and Surfer advanced. Surfer held him down, which wasn't hard to do in his current condition, as Bruno raised his sleeve and shoved the needle into his forearm depressing the syringe. Lee was only slightly aware of a bucket being placed beside his cot as his stomach roiled and he was violently ill, losing everything in his stomach into the bucket beside him.

After he recovered, he could hear Bruno talking.

“What you're feeling won't get better Crane, not until I give you the counter-agent. Think of it like... food poisoning in a bottle. You're going to cramp, heave, and hurt until I give you this,” he said holding up another syringe.

“Now, are you ready to talk?”

Lee closed his eyes, swallowed and told him to “Go to Hell”, as he heard them laugh and walk away.

* * * * *

Stu Riley watched as one bad looking cat entered the room where they had stashed Crane with surfer dude following closely behind. They left the door open and he could hear their conversation with a strained ear.

Spy? Field Op? Whooooa! No way! Captain Crane's a G-Man! Stu realized silently. He could barely see through the crack in the door, but he heard the terrible sounds of Crane losing his lunch and heard them talk about a poison. He heard Crane's colorful invitation of where to go, and ducked as the door widened and the Bad Dude and Surfer left.

“Let him think about it for awhile. I guarantee he'll beg us for the counter-agent,” the one they called Bruno said. Then he heard them file out as Stu listened for any sounds of a guard. He took the chance to peek again and seeing the way clear, moved carefully out of the hole and towards Crane's room.

When he got there Crane was heaving his guts out and holding his midsection tightly. He finally recovered and lay heavily on the cot on his side as Stu approached him.

“Captain Crane?” he whispered quietly.

* * * * *

Lee's body was rebelling something fierce, but it wasn't just like a bad flu. He hurt everywhere, and the last heaving session had busted one of his cracked ribs. He was still breathing heavily when he heard his name.

“Captain Crane?”

Lee opened his eyes and blinked, trying to focus. When he did he was greeted by the deep blue and concerned eyes of young Stu Riley.

“Stu?” he said in unbelief.

Stu nodded and looked toward the door, listening for the bad guys' return. “I saw you on the beach and came to help,” he replied in a whisper.

Understanding flooded Lee's only partially working brain as he breathed out, “Get help Stu. Get Admiral Nelson.” Lee stopped to manage another heaving session coming on as Stu stood and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I will. You just hold on and I'll get the fuzz...”

“No Stu, by the time you convince them you're not playing around...” Lee's voice trailed off as he started to lose his battle with his stomach.

“Okay Captain. I'll get Nelson.”

Lee nodded, it was all he could muster as he leaned over the bucket.

* * * * *

Stu made his way out to the hall and quietly descended down the manhole covering the hole back up behind him. He crawled as fast as he could and totally ignored the smelly slimy rocks he crawled over until he reached the daylight of the culvert pipe's opening. He emerged and immediately began running toward his friends.

“Whoa Stu, where you've been?” One surfer asked, dressed in his spring suit, a shorty wet suit with the shoulders hanging down at his waist.

“Look Reno, I need to borrow your car.”

His request registered a “You've got to be kidding look,” as Stu continued. “A friend of mine needs help, he's hurt bad and I need to get to the Nelson Institute.”

“Why didn't you say so Dude? Let's go,” he said as the solemn creed of surfers everywhere demanded they help their fellow hang ten brother.

At that, Stu and three other buds jumped into a convertible Baja Bug and high-tailed it to the Nelson Institute, about four blocks away. As they neared the Security Gate they barely stopped due to the worn out brakes on the Bug, and greeted the guard.

“Dude, we need to see Admiral Nelson right away!” Stu told the private fuzz guy.

“Do you have an appointment?” The guard said doubtingly.

“No man, but Captain Crane sent us here to get help,” Stu implored.

“I happen to know that Captain Crane is still on the Institute grounds. Now why don't you take your little game somewhere else?” the guard said as he leaned over looking very official.

“You don't understand,” Stu slowed down his thinking, and resorted to the square talk of a non-surfer, “I saw Captain Crane chasing after this surfer dressed in an orange and black shirt down the beach. Captain Crane followed him into a culvert pipe, and I went in because it just didn't look right. And when I got to the Captain they had worked him over and poisoned him,” Stu finished, proud that he had said the whole thing without one “dude”.

“Now listen,” the guard said unconvinced, “Either you vacate the premises or I call the cops.”

Stu threw up his hands in surrender, “Okay, okay.”

The Baja Bug backed out as Stu thought through what to do next.

“Wow, was all that really true Stu?” Reno asked as they drove away.

“Yeah, Crane's a G-Man and they want government secrets from him,” Stu replied.

A chorus of “Whooooa's” followed in unison.

“Listen guys, if they won't help Captain Crane then it's up to us!” Stu said, rallying the surfers to rescue Captain Crane on their own. One thing was for sure, if he couldn't get the Nelson Institute to listen, he sure wasn't going to be able to convince the fuzz. They all shook their heads as they combined their shared resources of brainpower together to save Captain Crane.

* * * * *

“Who was that bunch, Jackson?” Chip said with a smile, watching a VW Bug drive off with a bunch of kids who looked like they needed directions to the nearest beach.

“Just a bunch of pranksters, Mr. Morton.”

Chip nodded, and then made his inquiry looking around the grounds as he spoke. “Have you seen Captain Crane around? He's late for a meeting with the Admiral,” he added, completely unaware of Lee's predicament.

Jackson's face turned from the smile he previously sported to one of concern. “You mean he isn't in the office?”

Chip pursed his lip as he shook his head, “Not in the office, not on Seaview. I thought he might have taken a walk or something.” Suddenly Chip caught the strange look on Jackson's face.

“Mr. Morton, those kids just told me that Captain Crane was being held prisoner and was beaten and drugged.”

“Alright Jackson. Just tell me exactly what they said,” Chip said knowing that with Lee Crane, it was completely possible.

Jackson proceeded to tell Chip everything he could, when he got to the surfer in the orange and black t-shirt Chip hung his head and sighed.

“Jackson, you get someone to cover you here and then get out to every beach around and find those kids in the Baja Bug!” Chip barely got the statement out before he turned and began running back to the office to tell the Admiral that Lee was AWOL and most probably in need of a corpsman.

* * * * *

The Baja Bug rounded the corner and slid to a stop as the surfers all jumped out of the car heading for their prearranged assignments.

Reno headed straight to where the surfers were gathered during the “lull”, as they hung out waiting for the surf to hit again in another hour. Within minutes a large group of California surfers walked forward with half the “Crew” following Stu to the culvert pipe and half following Reno to the building where Crane was being held. As the band of brothers walked forward their determination shone forth in each suntanned, sun-bleached blond haired surfer's face. Their approach something akin to the astronauts walking the halls of NASA in full gear; slow motion, with the wind blowing in their faces.

Stu led his group of twelve through the pipe as he signaled them all to silence.

On top, Reno was making a similar approach to the building. Before they reached the building a car pulled in front of them as Jackson jumped out, having recognized Reno the driver.

“Look Dude, we don't want any trouble. We'll kind of. We're here to rescue the G-Man.”

Jackson took in a big sigh of relief, “Where is Captain Crane?” he asked his frantic body language telling Reno that he now believed him.

“In this building, at least he was an hour ago.”

Jackson ran to his car and radioed in Lee's location, but Reno couldn't wait for the fuzz. Half of his surfing buds were on their way from the pipe side. So Reno took his Crew closer to the building, peered in a dirty window and then tilted his head forward as he led his group into the deserted reception area of the building.

* * * * *

Lee was curled on his side when he heard the sound of the door opening. He could barely look up and was completely soaked in his own sweat. He had long since emptied his stomach, and now his mouth was beginning to feel like cotton.

“Had enough Crane?” Bruno asked with a devious smile.

“See, I've got this magic little formula that will make you feel all better,” he taunted holding the counter-agent to the poison he had given Lee. Lee looked on boring holes through Bruno's eyes, that is until his stomach roiled again and he dry heaved.

“Crane's not going to break like this,” Surfer said, his orange and black shirt standing out like a neon light. “Let me at him again. I can get him to talk,” he promised.

About that time the door swung open as the young men began to overpower the bad guys with their sheer number alone. One used his “board” and whacked the gun out of a bad guy's hands and then stepped forward to help a fellow surfer by whacking his assailant over the head with the “stick” turned weapon. More shirtless young men dressed in long board shorts came flowing in having subdued their three men in the outer room. Stu stormed the room with Bruno and Orange/Black Bad Guy, (in Stu's mind he no longer deserved to be called “Surfer”).

Bad Guy started reaching for a gun as Stu swung around and kicked the gun from his hand. Bruno was faster however, as he got a shot off catching Stu in the arm, but was unprepared for the board sock touting a load of board wax swinging full force at his face. Before too long they had all the bad guys lying in a pile and surrounded by at least twenty-five young surfers standing with their feet apart and their arms folded in front of them.

Sirens were heard outside, but were met by Jackson to explain the situation inside. Another Institute car pulled up with Chip running barely ahead of Harry for the door as bad guys began to file out escorted by Police Officers. Harry pushed by the stream of officers trying to sort out bad guys from surfers and hurried to the backroom where he found Lee still curled up in a ball, with a young blond headed man sitting down on the floor opposite Lee, holding his bloodied arm.

“Lee?” Harry called.

“That Bruno guy said this was the “counter-agent” for what he gave Captain Crane,” Stu offered, holding out the syringe.

“Thank you...” Harry drew out his words inviting the young man still dressed in his short sleeved, short legged spring suit to supply a name.

“Stu Riley...hey! You're that Admiral dude, aren't you? Whoa, I'm not supposed to call you “Dude”, am I?” Stu added, realizing that he had probably breached some serious military etiquette.

“Right now young man, you can call me anything you want,” Harry said taking the syringe and turning back to Lee who had roused.

“Admiral...” Lee breathed out painfully.

“It's alright Lee, the ambulance is on its way,” Harry assured him.

“Call Johnson. They knew I was in Morocco,” he had to breath in, moaning on the exhale as he struggled to continue. “He'll have to move fast before they bug out,” was all he was able to get out before he leaned over his bucket again.

* * * * *

Lee woke up two days later feeling a little better but definitely not well between the work over they gave him and the “food poisoning in a bottle”. Jamie couldn't administer the contents of the syringe until he knew what was in it and analyzed Lee's blood work. Eventually, he gave Lee the counter-agent and put Lee on an I.V. for dehydration. He remembered waking several other times, but not caring to stay awake plunged back into his pain-free sleep. This time as he woke, he needed answers.

Jamie finished his exam and raised Lee's bed up as Harry and Chip filled him in on the rescue; while Lee filled them in on the capture.

“What about the kid... Stu?” Lee asked, realizing without a doubt that Stu saved his life; he and all the surfers who stormed the building that day.

“He took a through and through shot in the arm, but he'll be okay,” Harry reported.

“I'd really like to be able to thank him personally,” Lee said tiredly.

“You'll get your chance, Lee,” Chip chimed in as Harry finished for him.

“I got to talking with the boy; he's actually quite bright and well...we're taking on a new crewman.”

Lee smiled, “I think he'll fit in just fine, Sir,” he said wondering how many times Stu would get in a “dude” before Chief Sharkey broke him of that habit.

“What about the other surfers Admiral? I need to find a way to thank all of them.”

“The Admiral's got that covered, Lee,” Chip said with a gleam in his eye. “The Institute's sponsoring a surfing competition with the biggest beach party you can imagine for the guys. They're getting all the works from marketing; t-shirts, hats, mugs, not to mention Seaview models...Awwwwesome,” Chip added in clear and perfect surfer lingo, clearly having fun with the idea.

“I'm just glad they were there for you, Lee,” Harry added with sincerity in his voice.

Lee nodded as a knock was heard and Stu and Reno peered their heads around the corner. “The nurse said we could come in,” Stu said shyly.

“Please do, Gentlemen,” Harry invited.

Lee was impressed with how Stu and Reno had cleaned up, they looked almost...normal. Lee reached out his hand and extended it first to Stu and then to Reno. “Thank you both, for what you did. I'm quite sure you saved my life,” he said honestly. “I hear you're joining us on Seaview,” Lee added to Stu.

“Yes Sir,” Stu said, trying to remember the new naval decorum that his new buds Kowalski and Patterson were trying to drill into him.

“How about you Reno?” Lee asked.

“Actually Sir, it's Clarence. And I've just started a new job,” he announced proudly. Lee reacted inquisitively, as Clarence supplied the information he sought. “I'm going to be working with Mr. Jackson on Security. Jackson said I could be his back-up any day!” He announced proudly.

They all chuckled, and then Jamie decided it was time for Lee to rest and ushered everyone out, except Harry.

“What about Morocco, Sir?” Lee asked, needing to have that loose end tied up before he fell asleep again.

“Johnson's all over it Lee. They took the intel you brought back and jumped on it. Morocco's being cleaned up.”

Everything was tied up in a nice little bow and Lee knew he'd rest easier now. He was starting to get drowsy again and smiled at Harry.

“You know Sir, I hope Sharkey doesn't completely break Stu of his jargon. I think he'll add just the right amount of color to the cruises.” Lee smiled and Harry reciprocated as Lee dropped off to sleep wondering just where they were going to stow Stu Riley's surfboard on Seaview.

The End

The Surfers

* Refers to Stuart Little, a 1945 classic children's novel written by E.B. White

** In the original script Riley's name was Stu Casey, but the last name “Casey” was nixed by IA because he didn't like it, and so he became Stu Riley. I just thought it would be fun to play around with the idea that Stu wished his first name was Casey. ; )

Credits:

The Surfers, written by William Read Woodfield, Revised Shooting Final Date June 3, 1965. Filmed but was cut before post production added the special effects and subsequently unaired.

Author's Notes:

My personal challenge was to write my story with the limited clues I had from the unaired version, which I had not read at that point. The elements included: surfers, violence, the need for special effects, and the introduction of Stu Riley. I surmised (correctly) that the surfers were the bad guys in the original story, and I just decided it would be fun to see how a bunch of surfers might save the day led by that cool surfing dude, Stu Riley. And being a native Californian, I can attest that surfers use the word “dude” even more than I did in my story, only the proper way to say it is, “Duuuuuude.”

P.S. - West Beach is an industrial beach near the break waters, but please don't use my story to find the Nelson Institute or for directions on how to get to Ledbetter Beach! ; )

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea and her main characters belong to Irwin Allen