The
first Chip knew that there was even a problem was Chief Sharkey’s shouted,
“Watch out!” The warning was followed by
an instant and severe pain on the side of his head, then everything went
black. His next sensations were the
return of the pain, although not quite so bad now, and his body’s prone instead
of upright position on the deck. Slowly
and painfully opening his eyes, he discovered himself surrounded by people, and
tried to get up.
“Easy,
Mr. Morton.” Several hands kept him from
succeeding, and Chip followed the voice to his right to the face of Seaview’s
CMO, Dr. Will Jamison. Jamie’s next
words, instead of being directed at Chip, were to someone out of Chip’s sight
behind him. “This does not bode
well for a smooth cruise. We’re not even
away from the dock yet and the Exec’s headed for
“How
do you feel?” his Captain and friend, Lee Crane, asked, a slight smile still on
his face.
“Sore,”
Chip growled, not bothering to explain whether he meant in pain or ticked off,
and again tried to sit up. Jamie frowned
but merely put a hand on his arm, helping him maintain the position until the
wave of dizziness that hit with the movement subsided somewhat. Lee shifted slightly to hold him from the
other side. “And I’m not letting you
stick me in
“Actually,
you are,” the doctor snapped back. His
voice softened as he continued. “At
least for an hour or so. You took a
pretty good whack to the side of your head.
It was a glancing blow, thankfully, and you were only unconscious for a
few minutes. But I still want to keep an
eye on you for a bit, until I know for sure the fuzziness is gone.” He grinned as Chip reacted to his ‘mind
reading’ of his patient’s true state, despite said patient’s attempt to appear
normal. The grin widened as Chip’s scowl
softened to a wry smile.
“What
happened?” Chip asked Sharkey, standing nervously right behind the Doctor.
“A
box slipped out of
“Sorry,
sir,”
“It
happens,” Chip responded, but it came out as another growl. He made an effort to stand, and succeeded
only with the help of both Jamie and Lee.
Upright, he had to again close his eyes against the dizziness that hit
him.
“But
I’m sure it won’t happen again,” Lee added firmly. “Now off to
But
ten minutes of Jamie’s poking, prodding, and shining lights into his eyes was
about all Chip could handle. “Come on,
Doc,” he finally grumbled, sitting on the edge of the exam table. “I’m fine.”
Both men flinched slightly as they recognized Lee’s favorite excuse for
avoiding
“The
only thing you need to do is lay down on the gurney and relax for
awhile. I’m not letting you out of here
until I can be sure that headache isn’t getting any worse. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to crash in
one of the bunks.”
That
decision was easy – the central gurney was closer to an escape route. Chip reluctantly swung his legs around and
lay back.
“Thank
you. And don’t get any ideas about
walking out without permission. Both
John and Frank are here, and we’re all three keeping an eye on you.” All Chip’s glacial stare did was cause the
CMO to smile broadly, and Chip finally relaxed and closed his eyes.
* *
* *
Chip
stretched and yawned broadly. Ah,
that feels good. Finally! A little peace and quiet. Suddenly the realization of where he was
settled in. His eyes popped open and he
sat up so fast he almost banged heads with Jamie.
The
CMO moved back just in time, and when Chip looked at him was grinning. “It’s about time,” he commented dryly. “I was afraid I was going to have to wake you
up for supper.”
Chip
glanced at his watch and discovered it was almost 1700 hours. “Damn,” he growled and started to swing his
legs off the gurney.
“Not
so fast.” Doc put a hand firmly on
Chip’s chest and pushed him back. Before
Chip could say anything, he held up his other hand in a ‘stop’ position. “Five minutes, Mr. Morton. Once I’m satisfied you’re fit for duty, you
can be on your way.”
“I’m
fine,” Chip growled, but they both chuckled at the old familiar line, and Chip
relaxed long enough for Jamie to give him a quick check. “Can’t believe I fell asleep like that,” Chip
finally admitted sheepishly.
“The
Skipper said you’ve been a little short on that commodity lately. Said your stay at that computer conference in
“Lee
was down here?”
Jamie
held up two fingers. “Once when the
loading was complete, and again about half an hour ago, just before we left the
dock.”
“Damn!” This time Jamie didn’t try to stop Chip as he
flew off the exam table. “I have to get
to the Control Room.”
“Don’t
think Capt. Crane can get us through the channel to open water without you?”
Jamie teased at the XO’s back, and Chip threw him a glare over his shoulder. “I’d strongly suggest you tuck in your shirt
and fix your tie before leaving here,” Jamie continued mildly. “I don’t believe I have enough anti-hysteria
drugs on board if the crew sees you the way you are right now. They’d all die of shock.” He burst out laughing at the murderous
expression that crossed Chip’s face for that one, and decided he’d better watch
his back for awhile. Seaview’s Executive
Officer might put on a front of “All Business” on the boat, but Jamie was all
too aware of Chip’s other side. The man
was notorious in certain circles for positively devious retaliations. True, they were most often directed at a
certain dark-haired commander. But there
had been instances…..
Chip
quickly put his uniform back in order and, with another glare at the still
grinning CMO, headed forward. Coming
quickly around a corner, he almost ran into a laughing Patterson and
“Oops. Sorry, sir,” Patterson, the older of the two
sailors, said as he stepped to the side.
“Feeling better, sir?”
“Yes,”
Chip answered shortly, and started to continue on.
“Really
sorry about what happened, Mr. Morton,”
Chip
was forced to smile – almost. Yep,
that sounded just like Lee. “Good.
You’ll catch on to the way we do things here.” Chip gave the young seaman an encouraging
smile, and continued forward. He stopped
just around the next corner as hearty laughter came again from Patterson’s and
Jenning’s direction. Lee, what did
you tell those guys? he growled to himself and marched off.
Lee
had his back to the aft hatch as Chip came through. The Captain was watching out the front
windows as Seaview maneuvered away from the dock, and Chip stalked up behind
him silently. The duty crew had their
eyes focused on their instrumentation and didn’t look his way. Lt. James sent him a glance as Chip walked
up, but was busy passing his CO’s commands along as the giant submarine eased
into the channel toward open water. Chip
waited for what he knew from experience would be a pause before any more
commands were needed and harrumphed loudly – right behind Lee. Trying to startle his friend, he was
disappointed when Lee merely glanced his way.
“Welcome
back.” Lee grinned. The grin faded quickly as he watched Chip
come to attention, still ticked off at what he thought Lee might have said
behind his back.
“Lt.
Cdr. Morton, reporting for duty, sir.”
The
grin made a return, although combined with a bit of puzzlement. “Good,” he answered quietly, and handed the
clipboard he was holding to Chip. “You
have the
“What
did you do,” Chip demanded, “tell the whole boat about that stupid computer
conference and my not getting any decent sleep the last three nights?”
Lee
still looked confused, and a little concerned at his friend’s accusations. “What are you talking about?”
“I
ran into Pat and
Lee
shrugged. “Have no idea what was so
amusing, but I’m glad
Chip’s
posture finally started to relax.
“Sorry.” He sent Lee a sheepish
look. “Don’t usually let that kind of
stuff get to me.”
“You
sure you’re okay?”
Before
Chip could answer, his stomach sent up a reminder that he’d missed lunch, and
now it was dinnertime. He grinned at
Lee. “Did I also mention, the food was
lousy?”
Lee
punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Well
then, lead the way. All of a sudden I’m
famished. Must be from doing both your
job and mine all day.” He laughed out
loud at the glare Chip sent him, and with one quick stop to make sure Lt. James
had everything well in hand, headed for the Officers’ Wardroom.
Chip
did give Jamie a quick stare as he and Lee walked into the Wardroom. The CMO was already sitting down, eating and
visiting quietly with Admiral Nelson.
The OOM made one quick mention of the morning’s incident and was quickly
assured by both Chip and Lee that everything was under control. Nelson gave Chip a measuring look, then
nodded as Chip gave him a small grin.
The conversation turned to the nature of the cruise – checking out some
intel that there had been an underwater explosion of some sort near the top of
one of the peaks in the Mid-Pacific underwater mountain range, south and east
of the
Professional
topics were the order of the day until, about halfway through the meal, Chip
caught Lee trying to swallow a belch – and not totally succeeding. Hah!
Time for a little retaliation. “You
still fighting heartburn?” he asked his CO innocently. “You were having problems at breakfast this
morning.”
“I
knew it,” Doc interrupted. “You’re
finally getting that ulcer I’ve been warning you about for years. Won’t rest.
Won’t take decent vacations.
Constantly worried about the boat, or the crew, or the report that’s not
due for three months but just has to be worked on right now, even if
‘right now’ is 0400!”
“Doc,”
Lee started indignantly but was interrupted by Chip’s chuckles, and glowered at
him disgustedly.
Nelson
took the opportunity of the break to comment dryly to the CMO, “I thought you
keep saying that it’s you who’s going to get the ulcer, from having to put up
with Lee and all his shenanigans.”
“That,
too,” Jamie agreed emphatically.
“Enough,”
Lee demanded, then sheepishly glanced at Nelson through lowered eyelashes as he
realized he’d just yelled at an admiral, and his boss to boot. Nelson merely smiled at him over his coffee
cup. “It’s not heartburn. Well…it is, but…”
“Spit
it out, junior,” Chip couldn’t resist another jab.
“A
friend was in town for a few hours last night, and we went out for Mexican
food.”
“You
don’t usually get that reaction from enchiladas suizas,” Chip observed.
Lee’s
expression got even more sheepish.
“Wasn’t the enchiladas. We, sort
of, got into a jalapeno eating contest afterward.” Chuckles surrounded him.
“Who
won?” Chip wanted to know. Lee dropped
his eyes back to his plate, and the chuckles increased.
“Hey,”
he looked up, defending himself. “She
had an unfair advantage. Since she
wasn’t driving, she could wash them down with beer.”
“She?”
Chip suddenly got very interested, turning toward his friend. Lee, however, just looked smug, and went back
to eating.
“Still,
Skipper,” Jamie continued with the original topic, “24 hours is a long time to
be suffering the aftereffects.”
Lee’s
expression got sheepish again. “More
like 18 hours. Her plane didn’t leave until
0300.”
“Did
you go to bed?” Jamie wanted to know, then got a pained expression on his face
as Lee yelled “DOC!” Nelson chortled
into his coffee, and Chip choked on his.
Lee continued to glare at the CMO as he pounded on Chip’s back – a
little harder than was probably necessary.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Captain,” Jamie defended his
question.
“He
did,” Lee grumbled disgustedly and pointed towards Chip. He gave the still half-choking, half-laughing
XO another whack. “And the answer is
yes. Well, sort of,” he hedged. “Dropped her at the airport about 0130, and
got here to my cabin by 0215.”
“And
your cabin light was still on at 0330 when I finally rolled in,” Chip offered,
and earned another glare.
“Skipper,”
Jamie warned.
“Crashed
as soon as I got in, I swear. Chip must
have seen the light from when I got up to take an antacid.” That caused the other three to chuckle again,
and even Lee finally smiled.
The
four finished the meal in peace until Doc stood up to leave. “Stop by my office when you’re done,
Skipper. I stocked some stronger
antacids after the last time Cookie made Chili Vesuvius.” He merely grinned at the look of annoyance
Lee shot him.
“Serves
you right, eating hot peppers at that hour of the night,” Chip chided him.
Lee
finally grinned. “It was worth it,” he
snickered, and refused to be goaded further.
* *
* *
Chip
was working in his office the following afternoon, going over some of the
seemingly endless paperwork involved in his job. Lee always complained about how many reports
he had to deal with as Captain of Seaview.
Well, he has nothing on the Exec’s position, Chip grumbled to
himself. He got up, stretched, and was
headed to grab a glass of water and a couple ibuprofens – he still had a slight
headache from yesterday’s altercation with the box, but wasn’t about to mention
it to Doc – when there was a call over the intercom warning of incoming
turbulence. Chip barely had time to grab
the doorjamb into the head when the submarine tilted sharply to port and rocked
several times before righting herself and continuing on her way. Just a minor inconvenience for an experienced
submariner like Chip. He heard Lee call
for Damage Control, waited a couple minutes and called down to the Control Room
to make sure he wasn’t needed. Lee
assured him all was well. It would take
more than a little rocking and rolling to cause any serious damage. Things on a sea going vessel of any kind, let
alone a submarine, were fairly well secured at all times.
What
hadn’t been secured, as Chip discovered when he returned to his desk, was the
voltmeter he’d been working with earlier.
It had fallen off and under the desk, and in doing so had somehow
managed to nick the power cord to Chip’s lamp a few inches from the base. He immediately reached up and turned off the
lamp, deciding that was a good excuse to rest his eyes for awhile. Grabbing up the voltmeter, he headed aft to
return it to the electronics repair locker.
On
the way he ran into Chief Sharkey, coming from whatever the COB had considered
it important to be doing at the time.
Chip kept a smile to himself.
Despite the man’s brash attitude, Chip could think of only a few people
he’d rather have on his team than Chief Frances E. Sharkey. And the man did keep the crew and the boat
running in tip-top condition. But it
tended to be on his terms, not those of his superiors. Not that it mattered, Chip guessed. But the only two officers Sharkey didn’t
treat with a subtle air of superiority were the admiral and the captain. And Chip suspected Sharkey only gave
deference to Lee because of Nelson’s attitude toward Seaview’s young
Skipper. Not that the chief was ever
disrespectful. Chip just tended to feel,
when giving him orders, that Sharkey was the one tolerating the officers, not
the other way around. Oh well, Chip
mentally shrugged. Don’t mess with
what works. “Sharkey,” he said out
loud.
“Sir?” The Chief stopped and looked at Chip
respectfully.
Chip
hid another smile. Let it never be
said that the COB didn’t put on a front of Naval discipline. There’s just something in the tone of
voice… “The cord to my desk lamp was
damaged slightly in that turbulence.
Nothing serious, but have someone check it out. It probably only needs a little electrical
tape over the nick to protect it.”
“Aye,
aye, sir. I’ll get right on it.” Chip nodded and they continued on in opposite
directions.
It
was well over an hour before Chip made it back to his cabin. He ran into Patterson and Riley in the
electronics locker while returning the voltmeter. Chip gave the older man a querying glance,
and was tempted to ask what the seaman and
“YEOW!” As his hand touched the lamp cord there was a
sizzle and pop, and Chip’s hand received a powerful shock and slight burn from
the not-yet-repaired cord. “Damn!” he
snarled, shaking his hand and glaring at the cord. He’d not thought the original damage was as
bad as it looked now. But then,
probably the result of what I just did.
“Sir?”
came hesitantly from the doorway, and Chip looked up to find Chief Sharkey
poking his head inside. “You okay?”
“No,
I’m not,” Chip growled, then relented.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just scorched
myself on this cord. Thought I told you
to have it fixed.”
“I
had it in the works, sir,” Sharkey said, coming the rest of the way into the
cabin. “I gave Admiral Nelson the papers
I was taking him, and was just about to call down to maintenance to send
someone up when I ran into
“No,
I’ll find out,” Chip snapped, and headed aft. Sharkey shuddered. He’d seen that look on Mr. Morton’s face
before – Seaview was about to be minus one seaman.
Tropical
Storm Morton was building rapidly to hurricane strength. He rounded a corner and was about to drop
down the ladder to the next level when he spotted two people visiting a few
feet from the base of the stairwell. One
was his intended target,
Lee
obviously noticed Chip’s slightly scorched hand – probably because Chip was
still holding it with his other one.
“Chip, what happened?” He
straightened immediately and took a step closer, instant concern in his voice.
“It’s
nothing,” Chip said, losing a good bit of his built-up steam. But there was still a hard quality to his
voice as he looked at
“I’m
so sorry, sir,”
“Sorry.” Lee looked at Chip, a bit chagrined. “It’s my fault. I saw
Chip
couldn’t help but let a small grin squeak through. That was so typically Lee – gently picking
people’s brains for their interests, then guiding them into training areas that
would lead to faster advancement. “It
happens,” Chip told his friend, and they shared a quick grin before Chip turned
back to the seaman. “When I first saw
the damage, it looked like all it needed was a piece of electrical tape around
the nick, not a whole new cord. Thought
I told Sharkey that. He must not have
passed on the message.”
“Oh
no, sir. I mean, yes, sir. He told me that. But my father’s a Journeyman
electrician. He taught me never to just
slap a quick fix on a problem, but to do the job right the first time.”
Chip
could see Lee nodding approval out of the corner of his eye. “Well, after my little blunder, it’s going to
need it now anyway. If you and the
Captain are through…”
“I’ll
take care of it immediately, sir,” then looked quickly at his Skipper for
permission to depart. A nod sent him
scurrying up the stairs toward Officers’ Country.
“Sorry,”
Lee said again, and laid a hand on Chip’s arm.
“Let’s get you down to
Chip
stiffened. “Why?” he thundered, and
glared at Lee. If there was one person
on Seaview who hated that particular part of the boat more than her Captain, it
was her XO.
“Because
you’re still holding your hand as if it hurts like hell,” Lee said
quietly. “Move it” came out a little
more firmly before he relented with a grin.
“Maybe Doc won’t be there, and you can get Frank to just rub a little
salve on it.”
No
such luck. Not only was Doc there, he
also spent several minutes fussing at Chip for even considering not reporting
the injury. “Burns gather infections
like a magnet. Even fairly simple ones
like this.” He took both senior officers
into his stern gaze. “If a few more
people around here would let me know immediately about the minor injuries,
there would be far less chance they’d end up here because they turned into
major ones.” Both Chip and Lee gave him
sheepish grins. Doc continued to look
threatening, but he gently spread an antibiotic salve over the burn and applied
a light gauze dressing. “That,” he said,
indicating the bandage as he put the last piece of tape in place, “can come off
in the morning.” He handed Chip the
small tube of salve. “Just keep rubbing
a bit of this on several times a day until I tell you to stop. Now get out, both of you. We’re only two days into this trip and I’ve
already seen more of the both of you in here than I care to.” While his voice remained firm, he grinned
slightly, and received answering ones as Chip slid off the gurney where he’d
been sitting and the pair left.
As
they walked forward toward the Control Room, Chip turned to Lee. “Do you know how long you were talking to
“Not
really,” Lee admitted. “Must have been a
good 20 minutes or so.” He gave Chip a
small grin. “You know how it goes.”
“Yes,
Lee,” Chip gave him one of his better XO glares, “I know.” He finally let a grin show. He always envied Lee’s easy way with the
crew. Oh, Chip could unbend. Off duty.
At beach parties, and such. But
on duty, somehow, it just never felt right.
And Chip was rarely if ever ‘Off Duty’ onboard the submarine.
“Why
did you ask?”
“No
reason, really.” Chip tried to wave off
the question.
Lee
wasn’t buying it. “Give, Chip. What’s up?”
“Nothing,”
Chip said again, then grinned at the expression that hit Lee’s face – a mixture
of stubbornness, puzzlement and concern, but mostly stubbornness. And to think, Lee always accused him
of being the stubborn one. He
shrugged. “Just,” he finally answered,
“it seemed to take
“And…”
Lee insisted. Stubbornness, tenacity,
persistence, whatever you wanted to call it, neither could usually outlast the
other.
“And,”
Chip admitted reluctantly, “what with yesterday’s incident, I was just wondering
if he diddled around getting to my office, hoping I’d have another little
‘accident’.
Lee’s
expression turned stunned. “You can’t
mean that,” he practically gasped.
“Not
really,” Chip admitted. “Just…”
“Not
a chance, Chip.” Suddenly Lee’s expression
turned unexpectedly wicked, and he grinned.
“So, what happened during your interviews with
Chip
glared at him before they both burst out laughing. “Hey,” Chip defended himself. “Don’t knock it. It works.”
“Turning
into a bitter old man, Chip,” Lee continued with a chuckle. “All the mean and ornery things you do are
finally catching up and turning you paranoid.”
As Chip sent him a murderous glance, Lee reached out and gave him a
quick, gentle punch on his shoulder.
“Gotta lighten up once in awhile.
Have a little fun.”
“ME!”
Chip sputtered. “You’re the one who’s
always worried about everything, won’t take a vacation, won’t relax for…” He couldn’t continue as both men cracked up.
When
they finally settled down, Lee gave Chip a speculative look. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah,”
Chip grinned back. “Thanks.”
“Figured
it was about my turn.”
“Got
that right,” Chip told his friend sternly.
They both grinned again and headed for the
* *
* *
Chip
was standing at the chart table that evening, going over the navigation charts
for the area Seaview would be traveling through for the next dozen or so hours,
when Riley came down the spiral stairs from Officers’ Country. Lee and Nelson were sitting in the Nose,
pouring over the latest intel NIMR had forwarded about the underwater
disturbance. Chip just assumed that the
seaman appearing from a direction he normally wouldn’t have probably meant that
he was returning from some errand either Lee or the OOM had sent him on, and
gave him only a passing glance before getting back to the charts. But instead of stopping in the nose, Riley
came to stand just a few feet away from him, waiting quietly until Chip
finished with O’Brien and looked up.
Chip also noticed that Lee had aimed a raised eyebrow at Seaview’s
youngest seaman. And Chief Sharkey had
wandered forward from his usual station by the aft hatch.
“What
is it, Riley?” Chip asked, finally acknowledging the man.
“Just
wondering, sir, if you were done with the voltmeter you borrowed from the
electronics locker this morning. I was
just going to calibrate it with the others.
But if you’re still using it, it can wait until morning,” he added
quickly, as Chip felt his expression harden.
“I
returned that hours ago, Riley,” Chip half-grumbled. “You and Pat were there. Why would you think I still had it?”
“No,
sir. I mean, yes, sir, I saw you come
in. But the voltmeter is still checked
out to you.” Both Riley’s voice and
expression registered discomfort at seemingly having to correct the XO. That was not the way to rapid
advancement aboard Seaview, and was more likely than not to get you assigned to
cleaning out the ballast tanks.
But
before Chip could land on the hapless seaman, Lee spoke up. “Could you have just not signed it back in,
Mr. Morton?” he asked softly. Knowing
Lee so well, Chip figured that he had no wish to sound like he was correcting
his Exec in front of the crew, but neither did he wish to see Riley slaughtered
in front of said crew.
However,
Chip sent Lee a frown before his expression softened. “Possible,” he admitted. “Had several things on my mind.” He looked back at Riley. “Check the drawer,” he said somewhat
offhandedly, already dismissing the seaman.
But Riley didn’t move. When Chip
looked up, he was glancing nervously between XO and CO. “What?” Chip demanded.
“Sorry,
sir, but I checked the drawer already, then the sign-out sheet. That’s how I knew you were supposed to have
it. And
“What?”
exploded out before Chip could stop it, and had Lee bouncing out of his chair.
“Come
on, Riley. Mr. Morton. Let’s go try and sort this out.”
Chip
was steaming. He knew that he’d
put the voltmeter back. He knew
both Patterson and Riley had seen him do it.
But, at the same time, he recognized Lee’s attempt to take this
conversation somewhere a little more private, and followed Lee and Riley up the
stairs. He was totally unprepared for
the sight that greeted all three men when they entered Chip’s cabin – the voltmeter
was sitting in plain view on the left side of Chip’s desk. A hand on his shoulder stopped whatever was
about to explode out of his mouth.
“Riley,”
Lee said softly, “would you do the XO a favor and sign in the meter before you
run the calibrations?”
“Sure
thing, Skipper. No problem.” Riley looked only too happy to grab up the
unit and make his escape.
Chip
was still glaring at his desk when Lee stepped in front of him, his hand never
having left Chip’s shoulder. Both face
and voice expressed concern for his old friend.
“Chip? You okay? This isn’t like you.” He let a grin appear. “If anything, you’re absolutely anal about
equipment being put back.”
Chip
grunted at the little jibe, and sent Lee a disgusted look before the frown
returned. “I know I put that
thing back.” He reached up and rubbed a
hand over his temple.
“Still
fighting a headache?” Lee asked, even more softly, and grinned at the expected
denial that Chip instantly returned.
“Whatever,” Lee continued. “Why
don’t you crash? I know you have Bob all
lined out for the night, and everything else is in order…” He hesitated as Chip grumbled under his
breath, and raised an eyebrow.
“I
put it back,” Chip muttered.
“Then
how come it was still on your desk?” Lee questioned, still softly. Chip sent him a glare but didn’t answer, and
finally just shrugged. “What did you do
to tick off the submarine fairies,” Lee joked, and gave Chip’s shoulder a
squeeze before dropping his hand.
“They’ve really been on your case this cruise.”
Chip
crossed his arms and glared at his CO – and best friend – before finally
returning Lee’s grin. “Maybe I need to
sacrifice a seaman in their honor.” He
was only half joking.
“Now,
now, Chip.” Lee grinned more
broadly. “You’d just have more
interviews to schedule when we get back, and all the paperwork that goes with
them.”
“Might
be worth it,” Chip growled, but he also grinned again, if for no other reason
than it got Lee to leave him be. Someone
had put the meter back in his office after he’d replaced it in the locker. He didn’t know who or why. He did know that he wouldn’t be able to
convince Lee without further proof. Nor
did he understand why Riley and Patterson were lying about it. But I will find out, he
promised himself.
Things
stayed calm over the next two days for Chip.
No snickering crewmembers, no misplaced equipment. Lee quit giving him little sideways glances
when he thought Chip wasn’t looking.
Even his headache finally disappeared.
About time, he muttered to himself as he double-checked Lt.
James’ last course correction. Finding
everything in order he gave Chris a nod, and went forward to make a hit on the
carafe of coffee usually kept there.
Unfortunately it was almost empty.
Eesh. Did I drink that much
already? Haven’t seen anyone else near
it, and Lee and the Admiral have been holed up all morning going over advance
reports for that upcoming cruise.
Sharkey walked by it, headed to check something in FS1. But I don’t think he took any. Boy, I’d better start paying attention to how
much I’ve been guzzling or I’ll start climbing the bulkheads. Right after I have one more cupful. He gave himself a wry smile, emptied the
carafe into his cup, parked a hip on the ledge of Seaview’s most unique
feature, her front windows, and watched the ocean go by. It wasn’t quite Cookie’s usual brew, rich and
strong, but Chip just chalked up the slightly bitter taste to the fact that it
had been sitting there for awhile, and downed it anyway before getting back to
watching over the submarine’s progress.
He
was just beginning to realize that his stomach was a bit queasy when footsteps
on the spiral stairs announced Lee’s return.
Chip ignored his stomach - just assuming that it was too much coffee and
not enough food - and watched while Lee did a quick walk-through of all the
duty stations in the
“Chip?”
Lee asked softly.
Chip
realized that Lee had noticed his hesitancy to begin eating. He gave his CO and friend a wry smile. “Think I drank too much coffee this morning,”
he admitted reluctantly. “Nothing looks
good.”
Lee
chuckled. “Another myth, shot down in
flames.” When Chip just raised an
eyebrow, Lee continued.
“Cast-Iron-Stomach Morton just met his match.” Chip frowned.
“Guess we’ll have to start having Cookie make you a pot of decaf.” Chip’s frown deepened as Lee’s chuckle
increased. “Or better still, warm
milk.” That earned Lee a quick backhand
from his friend, and they both chuckled.
But Chip also put down the fork he’d been playing with, and Lee looked
at him seriously. “You really don’t look
good all of a sudden.”
“No
big deal, Lee.” Chip shrugged. “It will pass.”
“One
way or the other,” Lee said smugly, then had to duck another backhand before
they both chuckled again. “Why don’t you
go check in with Doc?”
Chip
was shaking his head before Lee even finished the sentence. “Not that bad. No way.
Just a little queasy is all.”
Lee
smiled, and Chip knew why. If possible,
Chip was even better at tap dancing around going to
Chip
opened his mouth to argue, then hesitated.
He really didn’t feel well – as much as he hated to admit it. “Maybe for an hour or so,” he relented. “Think I’ve got some pink stuff in the head
from the last time we tried eating that weird version of sushi.”
Lee
turned slightly green. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. That’s the last time I eat anything that’s
not printed in a language I can read.
Not ever taking the waitress’ word for anything again.” Chip nodded his agreement, stood up, and then
glanced toward the galley. “Just saw
Cookie headed for the Crew’s Mess,” Lee told him, then grinned as Chip ditched
his uneaten lunch in the garbage and headed out. Even the dignified, no-nonsense Mr. Morton
tried hard not to tick off the temperamental chef by tossing out food.
Chip
figured that he really did look unwell by the glances he got from the few
crewmen he met on the way to his cabin.
The nausea was getting worse, he reluctantly admitted, and the trace of
a smile touched his lips as he thought about the sobriquet that Lee had used,
given to him by his Annapolis roommate on one of their first trips home
together to the Morton household. Chip
had gotten a serious case of the munchies one night. Lee had sat quietly, drinking a glass of milk
and eating a couple cookies, while Chip systematically relieved the fridge of
any contents that could be consumed without further cooking. He topped off the impromptu smorgasbord with
two green pears he found in the vegetable crisper. Mrs. Morton had discovered the raid the next
morning as she was starting to prepare breakfast, and as soon as the meal of
scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast was cleaned up, headed for the market with the
two young men in tow to haul back fourteen bags of groceries.
That
nickname’s going to take a hit, for sure, Chip admitted as he needed to hurry the last
few yards to his cabin door. He barely
made it to his head before losing what little was in his stomach. Hoping to settle everything down, he took a
dose of Pepto and headed to lie down for a few minutes.
* *
* *
Hearing
Lee’s voice made Chip open eyes that he hadn’t realized he’d closed, and he
instantly startled at what he saw.
“Easy,
Chip,” Doc’s voice sunk in as several hands restrained him from moving off the
deck of his cabin just outside the head.
“What
happened?” he demanded in his best XO voice, though even he could hear that
that wasn’t exactly how it came out.
“Suppose
you tell us,” Doc continued, and Chip looked around and finally saw Lee on his
other side.
“I
came up to check on you before returning to the
Chip
let himself relax as Doc continued his exam.
“Barely made it here before tossing my cookies,” he admitted, and gave
both men a sheepish grin, then turned away as Doc tried to check pupil
responses with his small penlight.
“So
you decided to help get rid of whatever was causing the upset by taking
ipecac?” Doc blustered at him. “Really
smart, Mr. Morton. That kind of idiotic
logic I expect from him,” and he pointed at Lee.
“Huh?” Chip was totally confused. He tried to sit up and, while the doctor just
continued to glare at him, Lee supported him as he wobbled a little. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“It’s
sitting on the counter,” Doc just continued to glare at him, and Chip turned to
see a bottle of something that wasn’t pink on the small head countertop.
“No,”
came out softly as Chip shook his head, now totally confused.
“When
he mentioned being queasy,” Lee offered, “he said he’d take Pepto-Bismol to try
and settle it.” He glanced at Chip.
“And
that’s exactly what I did,” Chip insisted.
He shook a suddenly aching head.
“I certainly wouldn’t have taken that stuff,” and he jabbed a finger
toward the head. “Don’t remember even
having any.”
“You
sure that’s not how you maintain your slim figure while eating everything that
doesn’t eat you first?” Lee teased him with a grin, and laughed outright at the
glare Chip sent him.
“Gentlemen,”
Doc said sternly, his expression telling the two younger men that he was
definitely not using the term he’d prefer to use, given the circumstances. “What I want to know right now is why the XO
was headed to his cabin instead of
The
blond just frowned and headed slowly for the door, his head pounding and his
stomach still threatening retaliation.
Lee must have made some indication of accompanying him, because he heard
Doc say, “We’ll manage just fine, Skipper,” and Lee didn’t follow them.
They
didn’t speak on the short walk, but once Doc had him seated on the table he
started a more thorough examination, and questioned Chip about what he’d had to
eat all day. Chip just shrugged. “You saw what I had for breakfast.” The four senior officers had, as usual, eaten
the meal together. “Other than coffee,
that’s it.”
“From
the carafe in the nose?” Doc asked as he drew a blood sample.
Chip
nodded, then got thoughtful. Doc noticed
and raised an eyebrow, and Chip gave him half a shrug. “The last cupful I had tasted a little weird
– kind of bitter.” He shook his head and
gave Doc another sheepish grin. “Figured
it was old and the bottom dregs, and didn’t give it a thought. Can I leave now?”
Doc
leveled a glare at him. “No, you can
not,” and again had to hurry with the rest of the explanation to cut off Chip’s
response. “When I’m satisfied that
you’re not going to spread stomach flu all over the boat, then, and only then,
will I let you go back to your cabin.
And when,” he had to raise his voice as Chip again threatened to
interrupt, “I’m satisfied that you won’t fall on your face at the first little
turbulence we run into, as weak as you are right now, I’ll let you go back on
duty. Is that clear?”
“Aye,
aye,” Chip muttered, and didn’t argue – for the most part – about being settled
into one of the bunks.
* *
* *
With
no awareness of having fallen asleep, he again awakened slightly disoriented,
this time to voices coming softly from Doc’s office. He sat up quietly, but apparently made at
least some noise as he was immediately accosted.
“Who
said you could move?” Doc challenged, walking over. He was followed by both Nelson and Lee.
“Give
me a break, Doc. I feel fine.” He cringed slightly at the line he was always
yelling at Lee for using, and watched both Nelson and Lee grin softly as Doc
just harrumphed.
It
was Nelson who spoke as Doc sighed heavily and started taking Chip’s
pulse. “You told Doc that all you had to
eat or drink all morning, except breakfast with us, was coffee from the carafe
in the nose?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Who
else had coffee from it?”
“Don’t
think anybody did. You and Lee were
holed up in your office all morning, and Lt. James is, for some reason,
limiting his intake.” He paused. “Sharkey floated through at one point,
checking something on board FS1 for you, he said, but I didn’t see him take
any.” He shrugged again. “Wasn’t paying that much attention.”
“I
didn’t ask him to check anything on FS1,” Nelson said, puzzled. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”
“I
thought so. Honestly, I wasn’t paying
that much attention to him.”
There
were quick smiles all around, as each acknowledged the COB’s habit of
occasionally having his own reasons, and only his own reasons, for doing
anything.
But
Doc quickly got back to business, and gave Chip a stern look. “You still swear that you didn’t take the
ipecac I found in your head.”
“Absolutely,”
Chip assured him with a glare.
Doc
sent the glare right back. “The fact
remains, however, that you had it in your system. And we didn’t find any Pepto in your cabin.”
Chip
bristled. “The fact remains, Doctor,” he
growled, “that I don’t know how it got there.
In either place. Maybe you need
to go back and re-check your test results.”
His voice had risen with each word, but even through his anger he didn’t
miss the quick look that passed between Nelson and Lee.
“Chip,”
Lee’s voice, as well as a hand laid on Chip’s leg, tried to soothe his old
friend as Nelson took Doc’s arm and none too gently steered the irate doctor
back toward his office. “You don’t
honestly think Doc screwed up.”
“Somebody
did!” Chip was still seriously
ticked. He felt Lee’s hand, still on his
leg, give a little shake.
“When
I asked you a couple days ago who you’d ticked off this cruise, I wasn’t
expecting it to be Doc.” Chip turned his
eyes from glaring at Doc’s back to look at Lee, and his expression finally
softened as Lee’s grin spread. But the concern
reappeared as Chip tried to swing his legs around in preparation for getting
up. “You sure that’s a good idea right
now?” Lee took a quick glance over his
shoulder toward Doc’s office. “For a
couple of reasons,” he added.
“I’m
sure not staying here,” Chip growled.
Lee flipped eyebrows at him, but got out of his way. They weren’t interrupted, despite a raised
voice coming from Doc’s office, immediately followed by something in Nelson’s
resonant voice too soft to make out. Lee
did insist that Chip return to his cabin and Chip, with a wry grin, didn’t
argue. He did go immediately into his
head to search for the Pepto he knew he’d taken. But he could only shrug his shoulders at Lee,
who’d followed him, when he couldn’t find it.
“You
do believe me, don’t you?” Even Chip
could hear the hesitancy and doubt in his voice, and he straightened up and
squared his shoulders.
“Of
course,” Lee told him, although Chip thought the response lacked a bit of Lee’s
usual assuredness. “There has to be a
logical explanation. Now, would you
please lie back down? I’m already in
enough trouble for aiding and abetting your escape.” The two old friends shared a quick grin
before Lee headed back to the
His
troubled thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on his cabin door. Before he could even roll over, the door
started to open. Chip’s instant thought
was, Doc’s coming to reclaim his escapee, and he started to frown. It changed to a grin as the head that poked
through the opening, instead of being sparingly covered with light brown hair,
was fully covered with slightly curly black, and Lee entered carrying a covered
tray. Lee gave him a sheepish grin as he
walked over and put the tray on Chip’s desk.
“Cookie
came up to put a fresh carafe of coffee in the nose. Guess word got out, ‘cause he asked how you
were doing.”
“Hard
to keep a secret on this tub.” Both men
grinned.
“Anyway,
he put together a few munchies – cookies, fruit, a couple brownies, peanut
butter sandwich, some chips – mostly stuff that can sit around for a little
while without spoiling, so you’d have something to nosh on. When you feel up to it,” he added hurriedly,
and then laughed as Chip’s response was interrupted by a loudly grumbling
stomach. “You never could go longer than
six hours without sustenance.”
“What
can I say?” Chip said, grinning. “The
furnace needs constant stoking.” He
glanced at the door. “I’m on Doc’s hit
list?” he asked.
Lee
just shrugged. “I asked Cookie to send a
dinner tray to my cabin about 1830 hours – I’m not all that anxious to run into
him in the wardroom anytime soon, either.”
“We
aren’t exactly his most favorite people in the world, even on a quiet
cruise.” Lee nodded, and headed back to
the Conn.
Chip
moved to his desk chair and uncovered the tray.
With half of the sandwich in one hand and a cookie in the other, he
contemplated the last few days.
Something was seriously weird about this cruise. There had been instances before where one of
the officers had been targeted to distract everyone from the purpose of the
cruise. But this was a simple cruise to
scratch one of Nelson’s current itches. At
least, he pondered silently, on the surface. Wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve been
kept in the dark about what’s going on.
But it’s never involved the crew.
Having devoured the cookie, his left hand smacked the chair
arm. Well, he admitted, taking a
bite of the sandwich to appease his suddenly ravenous stomach, there was
that once, when Sharkey got unexpectedly brainwashed along with both Nelson and
Lee when the government wanted to test that new whatever it was. His empty hand reached for the
banana. But if it’s some kind of
test, Riley and Patterson are involved, as well as Doc, apparently. Both he and Riley have outright lied. And Sharkey – could he have spiked the
coffee? And it all started when Jennings
dropped the box. But Sharkey was
there. And he sure was handy when I
burned my hand. And who sent Jennings to
fix the cord? Could someone have gotten to him?
Brainwashed him, or bought him off?
Replaced him with an imposter?
Wouldn’t be the first time for that, either, Chip finished with a
growl. I’ll talk to Lee – maybe he’s
noticed something. Right after I finish
the rest of this food. However, as
rapidly as the food disappeared, so did Chip’s eyelids start to feel
heavy. Instead of heading out to find
his friend, he ended up laying his head back against the chair and closing his
eyes. Just as the last of his conscious
thoughts drifted away, he heard chuckles from several different voices. He thought that they were right next to him
and his eyes momentarily snapped open.
But there was no one else in his cabin, and the door was shut. The thought of checking the ventilation grill
flitted briefly through his mind but, before he could act on it, Morpheus once
again claimed him.
* *
* *
Chip
startled awake, not sure what had disturbed him. All was quiet in his cabin and outside the
door. He glanced at his watch and could
only shake his head when he discovered that it was almost 2300 hours. Too late to talk this out with Lee, he
told himself, then grinned. Yeah,
right. Without me around to nag him,
he’ll be up at least another couple hours.
He ducked into the head for a second and, after running a comb
through his hair, looked again for the Pepto.
A word rarely heard from the blond erupted when he found the bottle
right where it was supposed to be. The
comb barely survived its smash against the counter, and Chip charged through
his cabin and out into the corridor.
Once there, and moving to Lee’s cabin, he hesitated. No light showed from the slight crack
underneath the door. With no wish to
disturb his friend if Lee had, actually, crashed earlier then he tended to,
Chip headed instead for the Conn. If he
couldn’t tackle Lee, he could at least quickly catch up from there what he’d
missed all afternoon and evening.
Voices
stopped him at the top of the spiral stairs – voices coming softly from right
below him at the base of the stairwell in Seaview’s nose. Chip had no difficulty recognizing the
speakers.
“How’s
it going?” filtered up the stairs in Nelson’s soft, resonant voice. Despite his anger, Chip smiled. There were a good many people in the world
who would be very surprised to find out that Nelson could speak so gently. Chip himself had rarely heard it until Lee
came aboard. While the two strong-willed
men occasionally went toe-to-toe in anything but civilized tones if there were
disagreements concerning a mission, Nelson’s friendship with Seaview’s young
Captain had definitely had a mellowing effect on his infamously volatile
persona.
“So
far, so good,” Lee now answered back, also softly. Obviously the two men were trying to keep
their conversation from carrying into the Conn proper.
“He’s
holding up pretty well.” The ‘he’ in
question wasn’t specified, but with Lee’s response, Chip had his answer.
“He’s
rattled, definitely. And ticked.” Chip heard Lee chuckle softly. “I’ll have to be especially vigilant to keep
Chip from decapitating any crewmen who happens to get in his way.”
Chip’s
mind was suddenly in turmoil. The
‘incidents’ that had been happening were being orchestrated and both Lee and
Nelson knew about it? No. Couldn’t be.
I’m just misinterpreting something, and was relieved as the
conversation below him continued. “It’s
kind of fun having to keep an eye on him, instead of him always on my case.”
“Someone
has to take care of you, since you refuse to take care of yourself.” Nelson’s voice was filled with gentle
humor. Chip could imagine Lee’s instant
frown at that unsubtle reminder of his tendency to always think of everyone
else around him first, and himself last.
Nelson’s gentle chuckle preceded his next comment. “Now, go check on your XO, then to bed with
you. As weird as things have been the
last few days around here, I need my command team at the top of their game.”
“Yes,
sir.”
Not
wishing to be caught eavesdropping, as innocent as it had been, Chip scurried
back to his cabin. He had just sat down
on the edge of his bunk and started to loosen his tie, when there was a soft
knock on the door. “Come,” he called
out, and was unsurprised as Lee’s head poked around the only partially opened
door.
“Safe
to come in?” As Chip sent him a glare,
Lee’s grin broadened. “Feeling
better?”
“Yeah,”
Chip reluctantly admitted. He wanted to
ask what Nelson and Lee had been talking about, but decided to come at it
sideways. “Slept away most of the day.” He watched Lee wave off the apology and
settle into Chip’s desk chair.
“Not
a problem. We’ve traveled through these
waters often enough, at least this part of the cruise, that Chris and Bob
aren’t at all uncomfortable. Doesn’t
hurt me at all to take the Conn occasionally.”
He was referring to the fact that, as Seaview’s skipper, he rarely “had
the Conn” no matter how much time he spent there, unless circumstances
warranted his active participation.
“Yeah,
but how long will it take me to talk Chris out of the case of nerves he gets
every time I’m not there to act as a buffer between the two of you?” Lt. Chris James was turning into a fine Watch
Officer. He was still just slightly
nervous around his ever-watchful Skipper, but Chip’s comment was nothing more
than a long-standing jab at Lee, and Lee responded in kind.
“Actually,
I was just commenting to the Admiral how well things were running without
you. Maybe you should plan a nice, long,
visit back to your family – oh, say, six months?” Chip’s answer was to toss his uniform shirt,
now off, at Lee, and both men ended up laughing. “Kept expecting you to show up this evening,”
Lee added, balling up the shirt and sending it neatly into the dirty clothes
hamper inside the open closet door.
“So
did I,” Chip admitted. “Just woke up,
checked the time, and decided that it wasn’t worth the effort. Doc?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Lee.
Lee
lowered his. “Not overly pleased with
either of us at the moment. Ran into him
at dinner…” He raised a hand as Chip
started to say something. “I know. I was going to eat in my cabin to avoid
him. But the Admiral had reports that he
wanted to go over and I sort of got included.”
Both
men grinned, Lee somewhat uncomfortably.
It was something that had totally surprised both younger men when,
shortly after Lee had taken over command of Seaview, Nelson had started giving
Lee reports to read, asking his opinion on projects, and generally wanting him
to participate in elements of NIMR’s future.
Chip had told Lee that Nelson had never included Phillips in such
discussions. Now Chip grinned harder as
Lee wriggled nervously in the chair. He
knew that Lee was uncomfortable with being singled out by Nelson in a way that
Phillips hadn’t been. Chip kept telling
Lee that he was headed for bigger things at NIMR, but Lee always just shrugged
it off. Chip knew that Lee preferred to
stay under people’s radar but his competence – and in more than driving a sub –
kept raising his profile, whether Lee liked it or not.
“Anyway,”
Lee continued, “seems Doc came up to check on you, found the empty munchie
plate and you sound asleep, and decided that you couldn’t be too bad if you’d
eaten.” He grinned as it was Chip’s turn
to frown slightly. “Said he was chalking
the whole thing up to a delayed reaction from the computer conference, and he
expected both our tails at breakfast tomorrow.”
“Which
you’re going to miss by oversleeping if you don’t crash soon,” Chip teased his
friend, earlier frustrations forgotten.
He figured it was Lee who had replaced the bottle of Pepto – Lee’s
comment to Nelson about having to keep Chip from laying to waste any crewman
who happened to get in the XO’s way now solving that little mystery. As to the rest of it, well, it could have
been about anything they’d been discussing earlier, and weren’t ready to let
the crew know just yet. Sure wouldn’t be
the first time.
Lee
had instantly frowned at Chip’s little dig, and glanced at his watch. “It’s barely 2315. I’m rarely in bed by now,” he complained.
“Doesn’t
mean you shouldn’t be,” Chip sniped right back.
They both grinned again, before Lee got a stern look on his face and
stood up.
“Sometimes,
Mr. Morton, you take this ‘XO looking after his Captain’ thing a little
overboard, don’t you think?”
“No,
sir,” Chip answered openly and honestly, before both men cracked up again. From their first days together at Annapolis,
Chip had been ‘looking after’ his instantly adopted younger brother, and it had
easily carried over to now. While it was
true that a good XO insulated his Skipper from as much of the mundane as
possible, and ‘looked out for’ any way to help out, Lee often accused Chip,
both back then as well as now, of taking his job just a little too
seriously. It had occasionally caused
rifts to the friendship. Fiercely
independent, Lee had never taken well to people getting in his way once he had
determined a course of action. But the
rifts had always been short-lived, as both acknowledged the strong bond of
friendship that led to them. Now Lee
just shook his head, and muttered something decidedly rude not quite under his
breath, causing both men to crack up again.
“Good
night, Chip. Hopefully all the weirdness
has been purged for this trip,” he ducked as Chip threw his uniform pants at
Lee for that little pun, “and things can get back to normal.”
“Amen
to that,” Chip readily agreed, and Lee left.
Chip policed what little in the cabin needed cleaning up, and settled
into the bunk. He lay awake, still
slightly unsettled by all that had been happening, but quickly went back to sleep.
* *
* *
Chip
was absolutely ravenous by morning. He
easily ignored Doc’s gently teasing, “Well, I see things are back to normal,”
as he entered the Officers’ Wardroom to find Chip just settling down to a plate
filled even higher than usual with Cookie’s ample breakfast selections. Cookie was positively beaming behind the
counter, apparently none too happy about the XO’s lack of sustenance the
previous day. Lee and Nelson entered
right after the CMO, and the day began as so many did aboard the giant
submarine, with talk of the current cruise.
Once he reached the Control Room, it didn’t take long for Chip to catch
up on what he’d missed the previous day.
He teased young Lt. James, in front of Lee, that now that the XO had
returned, James could relax and not worry about having to deal with his
overbearing Skipper. He was pleased when
Chris went right along with the joke.
While Lee pretended to frown, both saw the sparkle in his
always-expressive eyes.
The
rest of the day was just as relaxed. Further
reports had been received that the underwater explosion had not, apparently,
caused as much damage as was originally thought. While Nelson still wanted to know what had
caused it, there didn’t appear to be any urgency in getting there. Both Patterson and Riley were on duty in the
Conn that morning and, while Riley seemed overly intent on not looking
at his XO after basically calling Chip a liar over the voltmeter incident,
neither man, nor Chief Sharkey, who was bustling around the Conn in his usual
manner, seemed to act any differently toward Chip. Chip pretty much tossed the whole matter
aside as one big case of ‘weird’, shrugged his shoulders, and forgot about it.
Almost. On the way to the Wardroom for lunch he
bumped into Jennings, again headed somewhere with a coil of electrical wire
attached to his equipment belt.
Seaview’s newest crewmember seemed unusually nervous around Chip. When asked where he was headed in such a
hurry, Jennings mumbled something about helping Kowalski with a little project
in the Circuitry room, and hurried off.
Chip just shook his head and continued on. But before he went back to the Conn he stuck
his head into the room where so much of Seaview’s wiring had its main
lines. All seemed quiet. When questioned, the crewman on duty there at
the moment, Mickelson, said that there had been a momentary problem with an
auxiliary switch, but that it had been quickly swapped out for a new one. Chip just nodded and left. With a small feeling of unease still
lingering, however, he headed back to the Conn by way of his cabin, and made a
brief walkthrough. Finding nothing
amiss, he gave himself a mental boot in the tail for his apparent paranoia, and
got back to work.
* *
* *
All
was quiet through the rest of that day and into the next. Seaview arrived at the site of the underwater
explosion and the crew started assessing the damage and trying to find the
cause. While the ocean floor was beyond
crush depth, the site of the explosion was fairly close to the top of one of
the underwater mountains, and easily accessible by divers. The usually fairly clear waters were still
filled with silt, making visibility a major problem. Chip kept Seaview in station-keeping mode,
instruments monitored carefully for signs of more disturbances, while Lee
oversaw what was to become a large number of diving expeditions sent out to
gather a large number of different samples for Nelson to analyze. Lee went out on as many of the dives as
safety regulations would allow, and paced between the Conn and the Missile Room
while awaiting his next opportunity to enjoy his second best pleasure next to
piloting Seaview. On the third day, on
one of his trips through the Conn, Chip surreptitiously elbowed his friend gently
in the ribcage and suggested he go play in the Flying Sub if he was still
outside time restraints for another dive.
He’d meant it as a joke; since visibility was still so low, Lee would be
limited to maneuvering pretty much on instrumentation alone. But Lee’s face instantly lit up and he went
down to prep FS1 for take off. Chip just
shook his head, called Kowalski to the Conn to accompany Lee so Lee wouldn’t
get sidetracked and take off on his own, and calmly endured Lee’s glare when
Lee found out. Lee eventually just shook
his head, returned the grin that spread across Chip’s face, and disappeared
back inside the little yellow craft. It
was Chip’s turn to just shake his head, and get back to the job at hand.
Until
about an hour later, when Nelson came charging down the stairs, computer
printout in his hand. He briefly glanced
around the Conn and then charged up to Chip.
“Where’s Lee, out on a dive?”
“No,
sir,” Chip answered calmly. He was used
to Nelson’s moods. This was nothing more
than ‘totally engrossed scientist.’ “He
was still several hours away from being able to go out again and still be
within regs. I offhandedly suggested he
take FS1 out instead and he, unfortunately, took me up on it. I did manage,” he managed to cut off Nelson’s
response, “to send Ski with him, so he’s not out alone.”
Nelson
harrumphed, and a small smile finally touched his face. “A bit antsy, was he? Disrupting your orderly Conn?”
“A
little bit,” Chip admitted, and returned Nelson’s broadening grin.
Nelson
indicated the printout in his hand. “I’ve
found discrepancies in the samples he brought in yesterday afternoon. I need to have further samples gathered.”
Chip
turned to the chart table. “Exactly
where, sir?” Nelson found the spot on
the chart easily. “Can Lee use FS1’s
arms to collect what you want?”
“Not
as easily as divers can,” Nelson answered, and then raised an eyebrow at
Chip. “Have you been able to get
outside?” he asked, not without a trace of humor in his voice.
“Haven’t
had the chance,” Chip admitted. “Been
kept busy here, what with Lee’s comings and goings.”
Nelson
cocked an eyebrow at his XO. “Not that
busy, Mr. Morton. I’m sure that Lt.
James can keep Seaview from sinking while you go get some much-needed
entertainment. You are not immune from
the need for distraction any more than our workaholic captain, you know.” Chip dropped his eyes as Nelson’s jab hit
home. “Lt. James,” Nelson continued,
“suppose you call the Missile Room to ready a dive team to be headed by Mr.
Morton.”
“Yes,
sir,” the young lieutenant answered crisply, and reached for the mic. He allowed a small grin to appear as he
finished his call, his back to Nelson who was returning up the stairs. Chip, looking up from rechecking the exact
coordinates he needed, saw the smile and straightened up to Attention.
“Lt.
James,” he ordered in his best XO voice.
“Yes,
sir?” Chris responded instantly, smile gone.
In
a softer voice, Chip continued. “You so
much as let Seaview move a foot off station while I’m outside, and I’ll have
you inspecting rivets the entire trip home.”
Then he relented and gave the man a slight grin.
“Understood,
sir,” Chris answered, the grin starting to return. Chip noticed similar ones on several of the
Conn crew’s faces – those who had heard all of the exchange, starting with
Nelson’s comments – and returned them as he exited and headed for his turn to
enjoy a dive.
Chip
was surprised that even the view out Seaview’s famous front windows didn’t
accurately depict the lack of visibility in the murky waters. He and his team, consisting of Nielson and
Roberts, had to stay within a couple feet of each other to maintain visual
contact. Chip was leading the group to
the collection site by the diver’s compass on his wrist, supplemented by
additional directions from Patterson at the sonar station, monitoring the
team’s progress and relaying coordinates through the divers’ mics.
All
went well on the way out. The three
divers reached the correct site fairly easily despite the limited
visibility. They spread out several
yards apart, maintaining verbal contact, and took multiple soil and water
samples. But when all of Chip’s bags
were full and he tried to gather his team back together, he couldn’t find
them. They weren’t answering his
repeated radio calls, so he swam around the site looking for them. Patterson had quit transmitting once the trio
had reached the proper site, and now Chip couldn’t even get either him or
Sparks to answer his repeated calls. He
assumed that for some reason his radio had stopped functioning, but that didn’t
explain why he couldn’t find the other two, or why they hadn’t attempted to
find him. While they hadn’t been able to
see one another during the collections, they weren’t all that far apart. Patterson should have had all three on his
scope, and all three radios couldn’t have gone bad at the same time.
Hanging
suspended in the murky water, Chip weighed his options. The one thing he couldn’t do was stay here
indefinitely – he’d all too soon run out of air in his tanks. He knew how long he still had from the gages,
and he knew how long it would take him to swim back to the boat. That, at least, shouldn’t be a major
problem. Chip could follow his compass
and depth gage back. It wasn’t like
Seaview wasn’t large enough that Chip would have trouble running into her. He hesitated because it went against every
instinct in him to possibly be leaving Roberts and Nielson behind. He could only hope that their radios were
still working, but if not, they also should be able to find their way back with
their own dive gear.
With
major reluctance, but with emptying air tanks, Chip started back for the
boat. He set himself at the depth of
Seaview’s midline, knowing that no matter what part of the boat he eventually
bumped into – probably literally, since he could see barely a foot in front of
him now – he would be able to figure out where he was and head easily to the
hatch. And if, by some weird mischance,
he did actually miss the boat, Patterson would alert the Missile room to Chip’s
erratic swimming pattern and send out a rescue team. Chip, however, was determined to not let that
happen – Lee would never let him live it down!
For
all the poor visibility, Chip was making quite good time, his swimming
unhampered. He kept his eyes glued to
the gages, since he couldn’t see where he was going anyway. Swimming, and swimming, and… Where the heck is Seaview? I should have reached her already. He kept going, sure he’d run into the
boat any second.
Another
five minutes and Chip was getting seriously worried. And not just a little ticked. Even if he couldn’t find Seaview, she should
have been able to find him and dispatched crew to aid his recovery. He started mentally calculating time left in the
tanks with time and depths needed for decompression stops to surface. While he wasn’t that deep, he’d need at least
one to be safe. At least topside he
wouldn’t have to worry about running out of air.
But
the diving gods seemed determined to ruin his day. He had just made the decision to surface when
something entangled his legs. Something
heavy, which started to drag him down.
Momentary panic was instantly followed by cool logic, and Chip reached
out to feel what had entangled him, discovering what was apparently a section
of weighted fishing net. He calmly
reached down for his diving knife and started cutting himself free. But the more he cut, the more he seemed to
become trapped. At first only his legs
were caught, but as he cut away one section, another ensnared his left arm and
he could feel himself being dragged further down. The faster he cut, the more he was becoming
entangled. He felt himself tense up and
start to breathe more rapidly, and instantly told himself to calm down. He had just managed to get his breathing back
under control when suddenly he found it hard to drag air through the
mouthpiece. Can’t be out of air yet,
he tried to assure himself. The gage
showed I still have plenty of time to make the surface safely. But there was no denying the fact that
the regulator was giving every indication of low air in the tanks, and he
redoubled his efforts to cut away the net.
He’d have to blow through the planned decompression stop but, if he
could just get the blasted netting cut, he knew that he could hold his breath long
enough to make the surface. Finally, he
felt the heavy weight fall away and threw himself upward, only to have his head
connect with something extremely hard.
His last conscious thought before everything went black was, Boy, you
screwed up major league this time.
* *
* *
“He’s
starting to come around, sir.”
“Thank
God!”
Chip
heard the words, but he had no idea where they were coming from. Senses were returning slowly. Hearing apparently arrived first. Then touch – he discovered that he was laying
on something extremely hard. The thought
entered his brain that it must be what he’d hit his head on, but he couldn’t
for the life of him figure out how come now he was laying on it – whatever “it”
was. Everything was still black, but at
least he could take a deep breath unhampered, which led him to realizing that
the regulator was no longer in his mouth.
“Mr.
Morton?” came with a small shake of his shoulder. “Can you open your eyes, sir?” came with
another shake.
Chip
struggled to comply with the request, and was disconcerted to realize how much
effort it took. When his eyelids finally
parted, he discovered himself squinting up at Seaview’s senior rating,
Kowalski. Memory returned in a rush and
Chip glanced around, knowing that the last sight he’d had of the seaman was his
head disappearing down FS1’s upper hatch.
Sure enough, Chip recognized the interior of the little yellow machine,
and finally realized that he was lying on her deck. He glanced toward the pilot’s chair. “How the heck did I end up here?” he demanded
of his best friend, and struggled to sit up.
Ski at first tried to get him to remain prone, but apparently the glare
Chip sent his direction changed the rating’s mind. He helped his XO into a sitting position,
from which Chip sent the glare toward Lee.
He watched as his CO hit several control buttons, putting FS1 in
station-keeping mode, and turned toward him.
“What
happened to you on that dive?” Lee growled at him. Before Chip could respond – could even ask
why Lee seemed to be so angry – Lee continued.
“Did you lose all of your sense out there? You refuse to answer Sparks’ calls, or those
of your team members. You leave them
wondering what happened to you, and you take off headed directly away from
Seaview.” Lee’s voice was rising louder
and louder, his face more angry with each word.
Chip almost expected him to bolt out of the chair and stand over Chip,
sending the glare down and putting Chip in a less defensible position than he
was already. Instead, Lee left his
seatbelt on, in what looked to Chip like a purposeful step to keep from doing
just what Chip was anticipating, and just continued to glare at the man at his
feet.
“In
the first place,” Chip tried to keep his voice calm, “I wasn’t ignoring
anybody. My radio went dead.” He watched Lee start to say something,
apparently change his mind and take a deep breath. Taking that as acceptance on his ticked-off
CO’s part, Chip continued. “Once I
realized it, I tried to find Nielson and Roberts, but I couldn’t. I searched as long as I could, given what air
I had left, and then headed back for Seaview, assuming that they would do the
same.”
“You
headed exactly in the opposite direction, on the same heading you took away
from Seaview to the collection site. You
forget how to read a dive compass?”
Lee’s voice was accusatory, and Chip found himself having to take a firm
grip on his own building anger.
“No,
Lee, I haven’t forgotten. I don’t know
how that happened. Maybe whatever
affected my radio screwed up the compass as well.”
“It
didn’t seem to affect either Roberts’ or Neilson’s equipment.”
Chip
took his own deep breath. Now was not
the time to further tick off his friend.
He could understand that what was mostly behind Lee’s anger was
deep-seated worry. It was behind Chip
always getting ticked off when Lee went on ONI missions. But it didn’t make staying calm in the face
of that anger a whole lot easier.
However, there would be better, more private, times to deal with it. “I don’t have an answer, Lee. I just know what happened to me.” That seemed to take some of the wind out of
Lee’s temperamental sails, and Chip continued carefully. “Patterson send you after me?”
“Divers
couldn’t reach you fast enough.” Lee’s
voice had also lost some of its anger.
Chip
nodded. “Couldn’t figure out how I’d
missed Seaview. She’s a pretty big
target.” Chip tried a grin at his little
joke. Kowalski returned it but Lee
didn’t, and Chip continued. “Knew I
needed to surface soon, then I got tangled in something. Felt like a chunk of weighted fishing net.”
“There
was no sign of it,” Lee said accusingly, still holding Chip in his hard gaze.
“Cut
free of it just as I felt my air running out.
Headed straight up, and that’s when the lights went out. I gather I smashed my head on FS1’s hull.” He reached a hand back to where Kowalski had
laid a cold pack and found a fair-sized lump.
“Figured
if I could get close enough you’d see her, and come to the escape hatch. Didn’t expect you to flatten your head on
her.” Lee’s face was still hard, but
Chip thought that he detected a touch of humor in the voice. At least Lee was no longer practically
growling at him.
Chip
tried giving him another small grin.
“Whatever works.” He started to
stand, but Kowalski stopped him about the same time his own head did. Chip closed his eyes against the instant
dizziness the too abrupt movement had caused.
“Stay
put until Doc can check you out,” Lee ordered.
Chip let Ski lower him back down, and felt FS1 begin to move.
Just
what I need – more time in Sick Bay, Chip growled a bit, but only to himself. If he couldn’t even stand up, arguing that
all he needed was a few hours rest was obviously not going to get him anywhere
except further into Lee’s crosshairs. He shut his eyes and accepted the inevitable.
* *
* *
Chip
was rather proud of himself. He actually
managed one small victory over Seaview’s CMO and walked to Sick Bay instead of
being carried there on a stretcher.
Unfortunately, that was as far as his stubbornness got him. Kowalski followed him down to Doc’s domain
and, once Chip had shed the rest of his dive gear, took it back to the Missile
Room. As he left, Chip asked the rating
to bring him back his uniform. But Doc
belayed the request, telling Chip that he wasn’t going anywhere except to one
of the bunks. Doc wanted to run a few
tests, and Chip was confined until the results were back and the headache Chip
wouldn’t admit to having, abated. Like
Lee, Chip could sometimes talk Doc out of being so conscientious if conditions
on the boat warranted it. But with
things quiet, and taking marine samples being the only activity, Chip
surrendered semi-peacefully. Once Doc
quit poking, prodding, and asking all his – at least to Chip – stupid
questions, one of the corpsmen settled Chip into a bunk. The day’s expenditure of both energy and
adrenaline finally caught up with Chip, and he settled into the pillow and
blankets, and slept.
He
awoke some indeterminate time later to voices coming from Doc’s office. Sick Bay was fairly dark so Chip assumed that
it was late. He heard a shushing sound,
and saw Lee’s head poke around the doorframe.
Chip was still buried fairly deeply in the blankets, and for some
perverse reason that he didn’t immediately understand, he remained still with
his eyes open to just slits. As dark as
the room was he was sure that all Lee would see was his still apparently
slumbering form, and had that confirmed as Lee’s head disappeared and he
reported same to whoever else was with him.
The
group included Admiral Nelson, as his was the next voice Chip heard. “But why would he lie?” Chip heard confusion in Nelson’s voice,
something that was rarely there. Even
when Nelson wasn’t totally sure of what was going on, his voice would bluster
its way to a conclusion. Everything else
was so quiet that Chip had no problem hearing Lee’s response. Chip thought that he should probably mention
to Doc that he needed to think about installing some sort of soundproofing
materials. But Lee’s words drove away
all other thoughts.
“All
I know, sir, is when Ski checked out Chip’s equipment there was absolutely
nothing wrong. Both radio and compass
were functioning normally, and there was still about 10 minutes of air in the
tanks.”
“That
just doesn’t make sense.” Chip wasn’t
surprised to find that Doc was also present.
“Could something out there have affected his gages?”
“Didn’t
bother the other divers, either this dive or all the others we’ve sent
out.” Chip detected disgust in Lee’s
voice, and didn’t understand why. Surely
he couldn’t think that Chip had made the whole thing up.
“Did
Ski check the air in Chip’s tank?” It
was Nelson’s turn to distract Lee. “Bad
air could cause Chip to miss-read his equipment. Wouldn’t be the first time we had a
glitch.” Chip knew that Nelson was
referring to a dive where Lee’s tank had been affected.
But
Lee squashed that thought. “First thing
Sharkey checked. Chip’s tank was fine.”
Chip
didn’t want to hear any more of the conversation so he rolled over to face the
bulkhead and pulled the blankets over his head.
Worry over Lee’s apparent accusations was causing his head to
pound. I’ll deal with Lee in the
morning, when my head will let me fight on a level playing field. Not sure what put a burr up his six, but I
haven’t done anything wrong. No way!
* *
* *
Chip’s
head wasn’t 100% the next morning, and Doc wouldn’t allow him back on duty for
another twenty-four hours. But he did
release Chip from Sick Bay with the proviso that he rest all day in his cabin,
and report back in the morning before going to the Conn. But before going to his cabin he headed for
Lee’s, having ascertained that to be Lee’s present location as Seaview
continued to stay where she was. Chip
tapped on the door, suddenly feeling nervous.
He entered at Lee’s call, closed the door quietly, and stood almost at
attention instead of sprawling in the chair next to Lee’s desk, as was his
habit. Lee had looked up from the folder
he was reading and watched Chip come in.
Now he leaned back in his chair, his expression neutral. “Doc spring you, or did you escape?”
Chip
got no indication of Lee’s mood from the question, and Lee’s expression never
changed, so he kept his own face under tight control as he answered. “Sprung…”
He almost added a ‘sir’, something he wouldn’t usually do during a
private conversation.
“Released
for duty?” Chip could normally read Lee
fairly easily, especially in his eyes.
Today he was totally clueless.
“Not
until tomorrow,” he answered reluctantly.
“Confined to quarters for today.”
“And
you’re here instead because…?”
Chip
couldn’t stand the tension any longer.
“Because I want to know what the heck is going on,” he exploded. “Sir,” he added, followed by an explosion of
air from his lungs. He visibly relaxed
as Lee finally smiled, and waved a hand toward the visitor’s chair. Chip flopped into it, never taking his eyes
off Lee’s face as he noted the smile hadn’t reached Lee’s eyes.
“I
hate to tell you,” Lee started quietly, “but we couldn’t find anything wrong
with your equipment.”
Chip
just shook his head. “All I can say is
what I told you yesterday.”
“What
happened to your collection bags?”
“Huh?”
“You
didn’t have them when Ski pulled you aboard FS1.”
“Maybe
I accidentally cut the strings while I was hacking at the net.” Chip knew his voice, and probably his face,
expressed his confusion. But he was
mostly frustrated that Lee didn’t seem inclined to believe him; he just kept
that same expression on his face – the slight smile on his lips that never
reached his eyes.
“Your
dive knife was in its sheath, and the tops of the collection bag strings, if
you did cut the bags off, should have still been attached to your belt. They weren’t.”
Chip
launched himself out of his chair, hands becoming tight fists. “Are you calling me a liar?” He glared at Lee, and the frustration grew as
Lee’s face never changed.
“No. I’m just relating the facts.”
“The
facts,” Chip nearly shouted, and worked to control his emotions as Lee frowned,
“are exactly as I related them yesterday.
I don’t know what’s happening, or who’s lying. But before this cruise is over I’ll find
out. Sir!” he added with a snarl, turned
on his heel, and closed the door behind him none too quietly on his way
out. He stomped the few steps to his own
door and slammed it behind him as well, then regretted the action as his head
seemed to reverberate with the sound and magnify it, giving Chip a worse
headache than he’d had right after waking up in FS1. Berating himself, and casting multiple
aspersions on whoever was out to get him this cruise, he walked into his head
and downed a couple ibuprofen. Splashing
water on his face, he walked over and crashed onto his bunk. He lay there staring at the overhead, trying
to make sense of everything that had happened since the cruise had begun,
determined to make it home without anything, or anyone, else causing him
trouble.
* *
* *
The
only person to interrupt Chip’s personal tantrum the rest of the day was
Higgins, Cookie’s assistant, who appeared with a breakfast tray, and also lunch
and dinner as well when Chip wasn’t in the mood to walk down to the
Wardroom. He kept expecting Lee to
wander in to visit as the evening progressed.
It was rare for any spat between the two to last very long, no matter who
or what had started it. Chip was tempted
to go track Lee down and apologize for his show of temper. But he was just stubborn enough to think that
it should be Lee who did the apologizing, for obviously doubting Chip’s version
of the events, so Chip remained alone in his cabin. Even Doc didn’t show up to harass him, and
Chip had a moment of chagrin when he realized that he was actually
disappointed.
The
next day didn’t start out much better.
Chip showered, shaved, and dressed without anyone poking in to check and
see if he was even still alive. He
decided to head for the Wardroom by way of the Conn, just to get a bit caught
up from missing the last thirty-six hours or so. He knew that he still had to get past Doc to
be able to go back on duty, but didn’t expect anyone to object if he just
glanced at the last couple status reports.
Seaview was still stopped, so Chip assumed that the Admiral was still
examining the area.
Chip
heard laughter as he came down the spiral stairs into the nose. As he rounded the last curve of stairs and
entered the Conn, the revelers, who turned out to be Lee and Lt. Keeter, both
stopped laughing and turned toward him.
“You
need to check with Doc before you report for duty, Mr. Morton,” Lee reminded
him – unnecessarily, as far as Chip was concerned. And also in what Chip usually referred to as
‘The Skipper being patient with an incompetent crewman’ voice, which instantly
ticked Chip off all over again.
“Just
going to pick up the last couple status reports to read over breakfast,” he
managed to get out semi-calmly.
“No
need,” Lee assured him, the same bland ‘Skipper in charge’ expression on his
face. “We haven’t moved yet. The Admiral, as of dinner last night, still
had several samples to study before we can head home. We had to send out more divers after you
failed to complete your collection.”
Chip’s
head was beginning to pound again. It
was totally out of character for Lee to criticize Chip’s performance in front
of any of the crew. In fact, it was
totally out of character for him to criticize Chip at all. Chip was extremely efficient, a fact for
which Lee had expressed gratitude to him on any number of occasions over the
years. Chip was tempted to make some
scathing comment about the fact that apparently the samples Roberts and Nielson
brought in were useless as well, if Nelson had to have the whole dive repeated,
but bit his tongue just in time. He
mumbled to Keeter that he’d be back shortly to relieve the lieutenant and take
the Conn and escaped out the aft hatch.
None
of the other senior officers showed up in the Wardroom while Chip quickly ate
what was for him a light meal. Cookie
looked askance as Chip only took a small helping of scrambled eggs and a piece
of toast. But Chip was at that point
still so angry that he surprised himself in being able to eat even that much,
and stormed off to Sick Bay. Doc wasn’t
around but the corpsman on duty, Frank, checked Chip’s chart, then the back of
his head where the lump was still present, ran Chip through a series of short,
simple neurological tests, and ok’ed the XO to return to duty. He did add a
warning to report to Doc if the headache worsened, but that was all. Chip was almost grateful when, returning to
the Conn, Lee was nowhere around. He
knew that he was grumpy with Keeter, going over the current reports and orders,
and the lieutenant seemed glad to get out of his XO’s line of fire upon being
relieved. None of the other crew on duty
spoke to Chip, although that was hardly unusual. One of the easiest ways to tick off the Exec
was if he found someone not keeping their noses in their own equipment, and no
one liked ticking off the Exec! That had
in the past proved hazardous to any free time the errant seaman might have the
rest of the cruise, once the duty schedule was revised. Lt. James, who usually served as Chip’s
second on day shift, was absent this morning, having been assigned other duties
by Lee. Chip didn’t mind. He was content to keep his own counsel, and
the morning went by quickly.
1215
hours found Chip on his way to the Wardroom for lunch, leaving Lt. James, who
had shown up just before 1200 hours, with the Conn. He was just about to step over one of the
numerous ‘knee-knockers’, the lower sills on all the watertight hatches aboard,
when there was a flash of red behind Chip and he was pushed. Hard!
He fell forward through the hatch, unable to catch himself, and landed
totally out of control on the far side.
His head collided with the deck, and once again everything went
momentarily black.
He
awoke to an argument going on over his body.
“Why the hell did you release him for duty if he couldn’t even walk the
length of the boat without passing out?”
That was Lee yelling, Chip realized.
He wished his friend would lower his voice. It was causing the headache to increase once
again.
“Frank
examined him this morning, ran several simple rests, and noted on his chart
that he wasn’t having any difficulties,” was yelled back in Doc’s voice. Chip wondered who else was around – probably
half the crew by now, drawn to the argument.
Although, he reasoned, when Lee and Doc get into it, everyone
else tries to find a hole to crawl in. Right
now, Chip wished that he could as well.
“And
where were you that a corpsman had to do the exam,” Lee continued on, still
shouting.
By
this time Chip had himself back under some semblance of control – mostly the
result of anger taking over better judgment – and he cut off whatever Doc was
about to say. “Doesn’t make any damn
difference why he wasn’t there, because I didn’t fall,” he yelled as he pulled
himself into a sitting position. “I was
pushed.”
“You
were not,” Lee barely glanced at him, disgust in his voice and on his
face. “You lost your balance and
tripped,” and his glare returned to the doctor’s face.
Okay,
I’ve had it, Chip muttered to himself, and launched himself to his feet to stand
toe-to-toe with his superior officer. “I
did not trip. I was pushed. By a crewman in a red jumpsuit. I caught a glimpse of it just before I felt a
shove in my back.” He knew that he was
yelling, and didn’t care. He’d totally
forgotten Doc, standing just behind him at this point. He didn’t care how loud he got. He didn’t care who on board heard. Lee was going to listen this time.
It
didn’t help Chip’s anger at all when Lee just gave him an almost pathetic
look. “Chip, I was only about 4 yards
behind you. There was no one else
around. I clearly saw you simply get dizzy and fall forward.”
It
was a mistake for Lee at that point to take his eyes off Chip and look instead
beyond him to Doc, with a look on his face that clearly beseeched the doctor to
take an obviously deluded Chip off his hands; that he, Lee, had more important
things to do. That little bit of
inattention allowed Chip to see the expression on Lee’s face, and react to it
by grabbing Lee and slamming him back against the bulkhead. He had hold of Lee’s uniform shirt by both
shoulders, and the material was almost cutting into Lee’s throat. “Why are you lying?” Chip screamed. Chip’s sudden attack surprised Lee so much
that he was unable for a moment to defend himself. “Why are you doing this to me?” Chip
continued to scream, and emphasized the question by pulling Lee slightly
forward, only to smash him back, bouncing Lee’s head against the hard surface.
The
action seemed to galvanize Lee. He
popped his arms upward, loosening Chip’s grip on his shirt. With a growl, he launched an attack of his
own, knocking Chip back with a punch to his stomach. As Chip doubled over from the pain, Lee
brought his hands together and chopped down on the back of Chip’s neck,
knocking Chip to the deck. Lee
immediately landed on top of him, grabbing for his arms and trying to pin him
down. Chip kicked at Lee’s legs as hard
as he could and tried to twist away and get back to his feet. But Lee was too quick for him. He scrambled away just long enough to get
behind Chip and wrap him up in his long arms, pinning Chip’s arms against his
body, and staying away from Chip’s still wildly thrashing feet.
Chip
struggled as hard as he could, but Lee’s lean body disguised strength that,
even as far back as Annapolis, Chip had never been able to master. As he struggled, knowing it was hopeless now
that Lee was in a commanding position but having no intention of simply
surrendering, Chip heard Lee’s voice.
“Chip,
what are you doing?” Chip just growled
and struggled harder. “Chip?” Lee seemed
confused. Chip ignored him. “Jamie, what’s happening?”
Chip
had totally forgotten that the doctor was there as well. Now hands were placed almost gently on either
side of Chip’s head and he heard the familiar voice, sounding remarkably gentle
considering the circumstances. “Chip,
wake up.” Chip was suddenly totally
confused, and stopped struggling. “Chip,
open you eyes,” came with a slight slap on his cheek.
Weren’t
his eyes already open? He could swear
that he’d just been in an all-out fight with Lee… “Huh?”
Another small slap, and Jamie telling him, firmly this time, to open his
eyes, and Chip finally complied.
Chip
found himself sitting on the deck in Sick Bay, close to one of the bunks along
the side bulkhead. Jamie was kneeling in
front of him, and strong arms held him firmly from behind. Not understanding what was happening, he
first stared at Jamie, and then turned to see who was holding him. As he watched, Lee released him and pushed
back a foot or so, his face a good deal paler than it usually was and his upper
body visibly shaking. As all Lee could
do was look between Chip and Jamie, Chip turned back to the CMO. “Will one of you explain what the hell is
happening? Please?”
Jamie
grinned, and said to Lee, “He’s awake.”
“Thank
God!” Lee breathed, and pushed himself to his feet. Hesitantly, like he was almost afraid of
Chip’s reaction, he reached down a hand, offering to help Chip up as well.
“Chip.” Jamie’s voice brought Chip’s attention forward
again. “Sit on the bunk for a bit.” Chip accepted Lee’s help up, and actually
looked at the bunk for the first time.
The blankets were a jumbled mess and the pillow was nowhere to be
seen. Chip slowly sat down and Lee
walked off across the room, almost pacing.
As Jamie took Chip’s pulse, much to Chip’s annoyance, he saw color start
to return to Lee’s face, and Lee physically get himself back under
control. As Jamie finished counting -
and if the smile on the older man’s face was any indication, he was pleased
with the results - Chip’s look implored the doctor to explain. Instead, he first looked toward the still
pacing Lee. “Skipper? You okay?”
Lee
stopped pacing and looked up almost bashfully at Doc. “Yeah,” he said, with a huge sigh.
“Then
sit!” It came out an order, in the tone
that both younger men heard all too often when Jamie was lecturing them about
something to do with their health, and it caused both Lee and Chip to grin
slightly. Lee didn’t obey but he did
walk closer and stand still, watching Chip intently. Chip in turn looked at Jamie.
“You
remember getting hit with the box that Jennings dropped?”
“Of
course,” Chip answered, now more confused than ever.
“You
fell asleep on the exam table.”
“Didn’t
get much sleep at the conference,” Chip answered hesitantly, looking back and
forth between the doctor and Lee.
“So
the skipper explained when he came down to check on you.” Both Jamie’s voice and expression were filled
with gentle humor. “As he was
explaining, you started getting restless.
Figured that you were just having a bad dream. I was concerned that you might accidentally
fall off the gurney but I didn’t want to disturb the rest you obviously needed
so I lowered it, pushed it over here, Lee and I rolled you onto the bunk, and
tucked you in all nice and comfy.” He
grinned more broadly as Chip frowned at the flippancy. “I was replacing the gurney where it belonged
and reclipping it to the deck, and Lee had just raised the railing on the bunk,
when you went just a tad ballistic.” He
raised an eyebrow, and waited for Chip to explain.
Chip
just continued to shift his gaze between the two faces. He could see that Lee
was still having trouble containing his emotions, seriously upset by whatever
had just happened. “That was today? That I got hit?”
“About
two hours ago,” Jamie confirmed.
“We
aren’t in the middle of the ocean?”
“Haven’t
even left the dock yet,” it was Lee’s turn to answer, gathering himself and
noticeably calming down. Chip uttered a
particularly vulgar phrase, causing Jamie to burst out laughing.
“Must
have been a doozy of a dream,” the older man said, barely getting it out around
the laughter. Chip just glared at him.
“Chip?”
Lee asked.
Chip
transferred the glare toward his best friend before it turned sheepish. “Trust me.
You really don’t want to know what I thought was happening.” He grinned, and was rewarded with Lee’s
bright smile.
“Yes,
I do,” Lee told him teasingly, back under control.
“No,
you don’t,” Chip said firmly, his expression hardening.
“Ten
bucks says I can get you to tell me before the cruise is over.”
“You’re
on,” Chip accepted the challenge, and started to stand up.
“Hold
it,” Jamie interrupted. “Nobody said
that you could leave.”
“Jamie,”
Chip started in sternly, causing Lee to laugh even harder.
“You,”
Jamie pointed toward Lee, “don’t you have a boat to get moving?”
“Aye,
sir,” Lee answered immediately, but still grinning.
“Then
get lost,” Jamie mock-growled, before also smiling. “You’ll get this one back,” he pointed toward
Chip, “before we leave the breakwater.”
He gave both men a wicked grin.
“At least, if you want him back, and not have him arrested and confined
to the Brig for trying to strangle a superior officer.”
Lee
burst out laughing as Chip sent the doctor one of his patented XO glares. “Nope.
I’ve got a bet to win,” and Lee left, still chuckling.
“Your
backside on the exam table,” Jamie ordered, totally ignoring Chip’s continued
glare. It didn’t take him long to be
sure that Chip wasn’t suffering any serious side effects from either the
earlier incident or the nightmare, and he started to send Chip on his way
before adding, “I’d strongly suggest you tuck in your shirt and fix your tie
before leaving here. I don’t believe I
have enough anti-hysteria drugs on board if the crew sees you the way you are
right now. They’d all die of
shock.” He burst out laughing at the
murderous expression that crossed Chip’s face for that one, and decided he’d
better watch his back for awhile.
Seaview’s Executive Officer might put on a front of “All Business” on
the boat, but Jamie was all too aware of Chip’s other side. The man was notorious in certain circles for
positively devious retaliations. True,
they were most often directed at a certain dark-haired commander. But there had been instances…..
Chip
quickly put his uniform back in order and, with another glare at the still
grinning CMO, headed forward. Coming
quickly around a corner, he almost ran into a laughing Patterson and Jennings.
“Oops. Sorry, sir,” Patterson, the older of the two
sailors, said as he stepped to the side.
“Feeling better, sir?”
“Yes,”
Chip answered shortly, and started to continue on.
Then
stopped dead, realizing that this was exactly how the nightmare had
started. “Doc?” he said loudly, and
headed back for Sick Bay.