This story occurs midway through the third season and is the Prequel to my story, Unspoken Regard. Please also see the special credits at the end of the story, you'll know why when you read it.

Volcano Rising

by Lynn

Commander Lee Crane stood in the rain to say good-bye to an old friend, and to offer condolences to his widow. The rain fell softly in small thuds on his umbrella as each drop rolled off the sides and slid down as if a visual reminder of the tears he wished he could shed for him, but he held his Naval decorum and stood with his shoulders squared instead.

The ONI mission had gone bad. He and Michael had successfully completed their objective and their cameras were loaded with the reconnaissance they had been sent to secure. But as they left they were spotted in the forest. They both turned around to return fire and then continued on, they were so close to making it. They were only a couple of miles from their extraction point but unfortunately the summer night sky was bright enough to give away their location. Michael turned to lay additional fire and took a bullet in the chest. The unfriendlies were hot on their tail, but still barely within rifle range. Lee didn't even have time to field dress his partner's wound. He picked him up and placed Michael across both of his shoulders and ran as fast as he could. He ran for about a mile when he heard Michael's voice.

“Lee please... I can't go on.”

Lee could hear it in Michael's voice; the airy, eerie sound of death. He knew he needed to let Michael say his good-byes. Carefully he laid Michael onto the ground and applied pressure to stop the bleeding, but the bullet had done its damage internally.

“Tell Gracie... I love her. Tell her she'll always... be my Sunshine,” Michael said with pained, saddened eyes.

Lee nodded and then swallowed hard, finding his resolve.

“Tell her yourself, I'm taking you home.”

Lee started to pick Michael up when he moaned, his pain too great to keep inside. Lee paused and looked into his fellow operative's eyes, willing him to try.

“Michael, we're close. Hold on till Doc can get a hold of you.”

Michael's breathing was becoming shallower. “Lee, leave me. They're practically on top of us...”

“No way!” Lee reached to lift him, trying to impart hope as he picked him up. “Just hold on Michael.”

There was no way Lee was going to leave Michael to die on foreign soil. Their pursuers would be merciless if they caught up with them, and Lee would suffer the most as he was physically stronger and would last the longest through their torture, still he wouldn't leave Michael behind. He adjusted him across his shoulders again as Michael moaned in his ear and began his desperate run to the beach. He cleared the forest and continued running all the way to the water's edge, then he laid Michael down and pulled out his flashlight signaling into the darkness. He knew the zodiac was there, even if he couldn't see it. Sure enough his signal was met by the sound of an outboard motor headed his way as he turned to Michael.

“The SEALS are on their way,” he said breathing hard for the physical effort he expended. “You're going to make it Michael.”

It was wishful thinking, because Michael's pasty color in his face and his shallow breaths were already signaling his condition.

Michael returned his gaze. “Thanks for bringing me home buddy... it'll be easier for Gracie and the baby...”

Lee held Michael's hand in a clasp and squeezed as he realized that Michael's last moments were passing on that beach. Their pursuers had gained their distance and soon the beach would be a barrage of bullets but Lee stayed put, hoping to give Michael's last moments dignity.

“She'll make it through Michael, you know how strong she is,” Lee offered.

A small pained smile formed on Michael's face, “I know... she's had to be to put up with me...”

His breathing slowed, “Tell her, 'I love her'...”

Lee nodded and Michael's eyes closed as his grasp on Lee's hand lost its grip and he died. A bullet ripped passed him as Lee picked Michael up throwing him across his shoulders and ran through the water to meet the zodiac. Michael was going home, that's all there was to it.

Several SEALS deboarded and helped to heave Michael inside as Lee piled in even as the boat was expertly turned amidst gun fire entirely too close.

Once inside, Lee took Michael into his arms and stared out toward the darkness. Somewhere out there was a sub waiting to rise from the depths, but he stared past the horizon to a private place as the SEALS lowered their heads; everyone on board realized that they had a Fallen Man on board...

Lee woke up and immediately realized where he was; sitting in First Class aboard the commercial jet liner heading toward LAX. The dream was fresh in his mind, a memory that had replayed in perfect synch with the facts. It was perfectly clear even though the event occurred three years ago, just six months before he took that first mission with Seaview to set the charges on the polar ice caps. He had just been promoted to Commander and was waiting for his new boat, a Los Angeles Class Attack Sub; the best and newest technology the Navy had to offer to roam the seas. ONI had snagged him for the mission just before the Baton Rouge was ready to receive her new Skipper.

Lee sighed inwardly, he knew why the dream had been so vivid and why he dreamed it today. Every year on this day he would relive those days as the memories held on tenaciously.

He pasted a pleasant smile on his face as the Flight Attendant offered him coffee.

“Thank you,” he replied pulling the tray down in front of him and taking the steaming coffee from smiling Attendant. He was wearing his dark service dress and his cover sat on the empty chair next to him in his First Class seating. He took a small sip and pulled together his thoughts. Chip was meeting him at LAX with FS1. His mission with ONI had been an “easy in, easy out” and had only taken three days, still he was anxious to return to Seaview, his Gray Lady. She always knew how to set his heart to rest and he allowed a small smile to form as he gazed out the window.

“Commander?”

Lee turned his head toward the sound of the respectful greeting full of military decorum to see an Army Staff Sergeant in full dress uniform standing at his row.

“May I have a word with you, Sir?”

“Of course, Sergeant,” he said moving his cover and offering the seat beside him.

The Sergeant sat and began speaking as Lee nodded in agreement.

* * * * *

“What took you so long?” Chip greeted as Lee made his way from the Concourses used for heavy aircraft on the opposite side of the airport to the small concourse used for commuter traffic. They made their way through the door that led directly outside as they walked across the tarmac to FS1. “I thought your plane landed nearly an hour ago?” Chip asked non-nonchalantly.

“It did. I had something to do,” Lee offered without further explanation and then smiled warmly to let his friend know that he was okay; Chip always worried especially after an ONI mission.

“So how's Seaview doing?”

“Running in tip top condition as always,” Chip said with a grin.

Lee wasn't surprised that Chip was piloting FS1 instead of Kowalski or Sharkey. This was the perfect opportunity for Chip to get some flight time in to stay current, and as Harry was hosting his latest scientist aboard the Boat, he hadn't expected him to fly in. Seaview was at present taking deep sea samples in the Pacific and still had a week on her current cruise before entering port at Pearl.

They took their places inside the flying sub with Chip taking the left seat as Lee settled into the co-pilot's chair.

“I'll handle the Tower,” Lee said donning his throat mic as Chip agreed, taking FS1 through her start up sequence.

They received their taxi clearance and soon FS1 was second in line behind a small commuter prop plane. On their final clearance they taxied onto the runway as FS1 took to the sky in a quick short take off maneuver that took her airborne in less than 500 feet.

Chip concentrated as he piloted through the busy air space above LAX but soon found themselves over the open ocean where they were free to hit Mach speed.

“So... any bandages I can't see?” Chip asked without emotion as he probed Lee's present condition upon returning from the espionage world.

“No mother,” he dead-panned and then smiled. “It was an easy mission, no scars in or out.”

Chip nodded, Lee had efficiently told him that he wasn't hurt and the mission had left no lingering emotional pain to put into place. Chip's nod turned to a satisfied smile as Lee made his last transmission with the Tower.

“Cookie packed some sandwiches,” Chip said, tilting his head towards the portable collapsible cooler stowed in the back.

“No thanks, I ate on the plane.”

“So why were you late?”

Lee took a deep breath, he didn't want to get broody. “Not now Chip. Maybe later,” he conceded as Chip nodded, knowing that Lee wasn't quite himself. But they had been friends a long time and Chip could see that Lee wasn't in distress, so he let it pass. When Lee was ready, he'd tell him. If not, that was okay too.

Lee's eyebrows sharpened as he looked down at the weather radar screen below him. “Did you see this, Chip?”

Chip leaned over and nodded. “Yeah, I was aware a storm was coming in, but it looks like it's moving faster than originally forecasted. Let's submerge and take the scenic route back to the Boat.”

Lee concurred. “That's a good idea,” he said reaching for his throat mic.

“Seaview, this is FS1, come in Seaview.”

“This is Seaview. Go ahead FS1.”

“Sparks, we're going to alter our flight plan to avoid a thunderstorm ahead. We'll submerge, our new ETA will be... he finished the math, “in four hours.”

“Aye Sir, I'll inform Mr. O'Brien.”

“Very well. FS1 out.”

“Seaview out.”

“So it looks like you're going to get more left seat time,” Lee said with a grin as Chip smiled in return. Neither one minded the extra time in the flying sub. It was a good chance for Lee to decompress and maybe he'd get relaxed enough to tell Chip why it took an hour to meet him at LAX.

“Let's take her to the bottom and you can get your deep sea “dive time” in as well,” Lee suggested.

“Aye Sir,” Chip responded easily. The bottom was at 1,200 feet, well within FS1's depth capability so Chip pushed the yoke forward and glided FS1 downward.

* * * * *

Admiral Harriman Nelson entered the Control Room via the spiral staircase and walked toward Bobby O'Brien at the Chart Table.

“Mr. O'Brien, what's FS1's ETA?”

“Captain Crane just contacted us Sir. FS1 is submerging to avoid a thunderstorm.”

Harry nodded, he and Chip had discussed the storm's forecast and path before he left.

“He estimates their arrival in four hours, Sir,” Bobby continued.

Harry nodded and looked around the efficient Control Room of his submarine with a satisfied tight lipped smile. He moved to the Front Porch and reached for the carafe of coffee. He'd been in the Lab too long on this trip, but mostly he was anxious to see Lee. It wasn't something he broadcasted, he kept very busy in his absence and hardly thought about the ONI missions, that is until Lee's scheduled time of return. If too much time passed beyond his expected time of return then he would start worrying in earnest and a phone call to Admiral Johnson would be in order. This mission however, had run like clockwork, or so Johnson had reported back to Harry; a courtesy call amongst old friends. Lee was healthy, the mission was complete and Seaview's Captain was due back in four hours.

Harry let out an audible and satisfied sigh as he looked out the windows of Seaview's bow. He and Lee's relationship had passed from superior/subordinate to close friends and perhaps something more. If he was honest he'd say a father/son relationship, but he couldn't voice it, even to himself quite yet. No, he could enjoy their friendship without placing deeper labels on his feelings. Someday, when it felt more natural, he'd tell Lee that he was everything a father could hope for in a son. But for right now, he'd let their friendship continue as it had with silent regard and great mutual respect.

* * * * *

“Take over for me, Lee,” Chip asked, unstrapping his harness. “I'm ready for a sandwich, how about you?” He asked moving out of the pilot's chair and towards the cooler.

“No thanks,” Lee answered over his shoulder. “Unless you've got some coffee back there?”

“Sure,” Chip answered but then all hell broke loose.

“Whoa!” Lee yelled as a powerful geyser rose from the depths nearly directly below them. The powerful jet spray erupted again as FS1 was tossed violently around and sent careening out of control in an end over end roll. Lee hung on powerfully trying to regain control over the flying sub but the g-forces were too much as he lost his fight for consciousness and blacked out.

FS1 came to rest about 200 yards off the starboard side of the powerful spray of water. Fortunately, the natural ballast of the sub was self-correcting and the flying sub landed on its belly. But inside the flying submersible it was quiet as Lee sat slumped forward, still secured by his strap. Behind him lay the still form of Chip Morton, who had not had the advantage of being harnessed in. His blood glistened against the deck as the red emergency lights flickered on.

Lee blinked his eyes and breathed in taking in the aches and pains of the harness burn he suffered across his chest. It took him a moment to gain his lucidness as he looked out the windows of FS1 and saw a light just ahead. They were at 1,200 feet and the only light that should be visible was what illuminated from FS1. He stared at it until his fuzzy brain sharpened and he realized that they had just passed directly over an erupting sub-marine volcano. Almost immediately he realized that Chip wasn't in his seat and unharnessed turning his flight chair in one smooth motion.

“Chip!”

He found his way over as Chip lay prone on the deck with a pool of blood puddled at his head. Carefully he turned Chip on his back and tried to revive him speaking softly but Chip made no indication of wakefulness. Lee moved to the cabinet and pulled out the first aid kit and began patting the blood away from Chip's forehead revealing a nasty gash underneath. He applied a bandage square and did a fast check of his limbs finding them sound. Then he retrieved the emergency blankets and began to treat Chip for shock, raising his feet using his gear bag and placing blankets on him to keep him warm.

Chip was still out, so Lee moved to the pilot's console to assess FS1's damage. He tried to power up but the sub wasn't responding; no power meant a dwindling air supply as Lee sighed. He tried the radio, hoping that the emergency power was strong enough to send a signal but all he got was static. Power wasn't the problem, but the radio antennae had been damaged in the end over end roll. He heard a moan from behind him and moved back to Chip's side with concern.

“Chip, can you hear me?”

Chip let out a moan that Lee recognized and quickly he dumped out the contents of the collapsible cooler raising Chip's head as Chip wretched violently in the bag. Concussion, Lee thought. A few awful moments later and Lee zipped the bag up and blotted Chip's mouth with his handkerchief.

“What happened?” Chip asked with a considerable amount of air.

“Lucky us, we got caught in the birth of an underwater volcano.” Lee tilted his head out towards the windows and Chip could see the glow from where he lay.

“The flying sub's dead. No power. The radio's fried but I'll see what I can do to affect repairs. You just stay still,” Lee admonished.

“No problem there,” Chip replied, feeling achy and sore all over, but mostly riding out the multiple drum sets playing in his head right now.

Lee gave a concerned smile and then moved toward the console off the co-pilot's chair. He opened the panel and fiddled with it for a while and then returned and sat down next to Chip.

“Not good?” Chip asked.

“Not good.” Lee repeated. “A major relay circuit is completely fried, there's no way to by-pass it for power. We'll just have to wait for Seaview.”

“...'kay,” Chip answered as his eyes started fluttering closed.

“Hey Chip, you know the drill. Concussion, I'll have to wake you every fifteen minutes.”

“...'kay,” he replied as Lee checked his watch.

He rose and moved back to FS1's bow. It was an unbelievable wonder right out the submersible's windows. The gush of water had given way to molten lava spewing out forming pillow lava, as the near freezing water cooled the outside of the flowing liquid rock creating a rounded crust. He watched a mound begin to form and wondered if Harry would make it on time. Lee sat in the pilot's chair and pulled a mounted camera viewfinder down from the overhead bulkhead and took a few photos. There wasn't much else to do and he thought it would make interesting conversation when Harry found them.

* * * * *

Harry examined his watch and pursed his lips. He had returned to his cabin to work on the endless reports that seemed to multiply in his in-box and had lost track of time. He leaned forward and pressed the intercom connecting him to the Control Room.

“Mr. O'Brien, have you confirmed FS1's ETA?”

“No Sir, our last transmission was an hour ago. I'll check Sir.”

It had been three and half hours and protocol would have called for Lee to check in thirty minutes out, so Harry fully expected to have received the call by now. A few minutes passed when his intercom came to life.

“Admiral, Sparks can't raise FS1. He's been trying for the last five minutes and was just getting ready to inform me.”

“Can't raise them?” Harry's face turned instantly to concern. “I'll be right down.”

* * * * *

Lee took a few more photos and then turned back to his patient.

“Chip? Come on, Chip, wake up.”

Chip moaned and then opened his eyes. “I'm tired, Lee.”

“Yeah, I know, but I need you to stay awake.”

Chip sighed, resigning himself to the torture of staying awake. “So you want to tell me why it took you an hour to walk the Concourse at LAX?”

Lee sat against the side of the supply cabinet and leaned his head back in contemplation, looking out at the red glow outside FS1's window.

“You know what day this is?”

“Is this a neuro check?” Chip asked with a half-smile across his pained face.

Lee nodded. “No,” he answered quietly and then continued. “You remember Michael Richmond from Annapolis?”

Chip started to nod and instantly changed his mind replying verbally instead. “Yeah, I heard he died sometime back.”

“Yeah. Did you know he was ONI?”

“No, I lost complete track of him once we all got our first assignments.”

“Did you know he died in my arms?”

Chip's eyes narrowed in understanding. “An ONI mission gone bad?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, three years ago today. It happened right before I got the Baton Rouge, it really shook me,” Lee admitted bearing his all to his brother at heart.

“You've lost comrades before,” Chip stated.

“I know... We brought his body back, Gracie was pregnant you know,” he stated rather than asked as he continued to watch the red glow out the window. “Michael gave me a message for Gracie, she was appreciative, I guess it meant something special to her...” he faded off.

“I'm going to grab a few more shots of the volcano for the Admiral,” he said abruptly ending the conversation, rising from his spot and settling into the pilot's chair as Chip watched Lee with concern. He hoped Lee would finally get whatever it was that was bothering him off his chest, and watched as Lee chronicled the growing mound out FS1's window with photographs.

* * * * *

Harry stood at the chart table as Lt. Bobby O'Brien charted out a course to intercept FS1 from her last known transmission. Something was wrong, everyone knew it.

“Admiral?” Patterson called, holding one hand to the hydrophones over his ear as if to sharpen his hearing.

“What do you have?” Harry replied, crossing the deck with Bobby close behind.

“Listen to this, Sir,” He said offering a second pair of headphones to Harry as he spoke.

Harry's bottom lip pursed as he evaluated the underwater sound. “Thermal activity,” he said evenly.

“Aye Sir, that's what I thought as well. I've been monitoring it and logging its activity,” Harry nodded, SOP for the hydrophones station. “But Sir, it went active just about the time we lost contact with the flying sub,” he finished with concern.

Harry's eyebrows sharpened as he nodded, handing the hydrophones back to Pat, “Keep monitoring Patterson, let me know if the activity changes.”

“Aye Sir,” Pat said turning his attention back to the station and listening in earnest to the sounds of a volcano erupting far too close to FS1's last known position.

“Mr. O'Brien, let's get there. Flank speed,”

“Flank speed, Aye,” Bobby repeated and pulled the mic to broadcast the orders to engineering.

* * * * *

Lee took his pictures and sat for just a moment looking at the surreal view out FS1's windows. The view was fascinating as Lee pondered the events taking place far below the mound that was now visible. Somewhere deep inside the earth's crust was a magma chamber, as the magma expands it seeks more room and a magma conduit forms heading through the earth's strata toward the sea floor. Eventually the eruption hits the point where the sea floor and the water meet, producing a fissure or vent. The vent's blast is what the flying sub was caught in, as the volcano spewed heated water upward. They were fortunate to have survived the vent's powerful blast. The water blast had equalized out and now a small mound had appeared as the magma left the conduit and rolled over the open fissure becoming lava. The lava was immediately hit by the cold waters, cooling the super-heated rocks at a tremendous rate producing the pillow lava. It was mesmerizing, watching the lava ooze out and then harden into the familiar black crust as the mound grew both at the base and in height.

Lee took a deep breath in and checked his watch. For all the wonder he hadn't forgotten Chip, it was just that he was getting close to something that had bothered him for a long time. He managed to put it away neatly and tightly, but every year since Michael's death it surfaced again. He had made sure to stay in distant contact with Gracie who had remained in Hawaii to be near Michael's grave. Little Mickie was almost three years old now and a spitting image of his dad, but with the lovely features of his mom as well. He knew why it hurt so bad, maybe it was time to just say it.

He turned back and as expected Chip was out again.

“Chip,” Lee urged as Chip complied, not deeply asleep.

“So how's it looking?”

“Like were awful close to something we shouldn't be,” Lee answered with a small half-smile. “But Seaview knows we're overdue by now. I expect she's cutting a rug to get to us,” he finished confidently.

“And the air?”

“We're good for now,” Lee said with conviction. “We're not that far off our flight plan so they'll find us,” Lee said still watching the glow out the window.

“So,” Chip's voice drawing Lee's eyes toward him. “You were telling me about Michael.”

Lee sighed and sat back against the supply cabinet getting comfortable. It was cold inside the Flying Sub, but Chip needed the warmth of the blankets so he didn't mention it.

“Do you want some water?” Lee asked as if ignoring Chip's question.

“No, I don't think I want to move my head too much,” Chip answered honestly and then let a small silence linger between them until Lee spoke up again.

“Everyone was very gracious at the funeral. I was the last one to speak with Michael and they were grateful he hadn't died alone. Gracie was strong like I knew she'd be, but the baby was born three weeks early. Little Mickie came out a fighter, like his dad,” Lee let loose a small smile and then drew a noticeable breath.

“I was sent for training on the new sub and within a week of Michael's funeral I was standing on the deck of my first command. The Baton Rouge was awesome, she's a good boat,” Lee said with conviction but little emotion.

“Yeah,” Chip chimed in, “full of lots of bells and whistles.”

“Yeah,” Lee agreed. “Captain Derrick, my Skipper aboard the Pulaski*, asked me about a Wetting Down**, and I went through the motions for everyone else’s sake. It actually felt good to get tossed in the drink.”

Here's where it got difficult as Lee swallowed hard and Chip realized they were getting close to Lee's pain, although Lee still hadn't told him how any of this fit into his late arrival at the commuter gate.

“I guess it was a little hard celebrating just a week out from laying out a friend,” Chip said, supplying what he surmised was the source of Lee's pain.

Lee nodded lightly and smiled slightly at Chip's perception. Spot on, just like everything his Exec did.

“If I had been there...” Chip started, but was interrupted by Lee.

“You'd have seen right through me,” Lee finished with a half-smile that turned serious as he allowed his head to lean completely back on the cabinet and stared past the windows back to three years ago as he recounted the scene for Chip.

Lee entered the Pub wearing his dress whites. Some officers changed to avoid getting their whites wet during the wetting down, but it was considered good form to wear it. His new commander's bars were worn sharply on his shoulders. He had picked this particular establishment because of its close proximity to the dock. Once the well orderly and completely respectful dunking was done, he'd be finished and he could head back to the BOQ***. For now, he'd have to paste on a happy face and let the officers of the Pulaski honor him with some of his more colorful deeds aboard the ballistic submarine. Captain Derrick would be there, and his would be the final speech. Lee would pay the bar bill and the official wetting down would commence.

As he entered the pub he saw his party already gathering at a table, he stopped and paused. Michael's death was still too fresh, the funeral only a week ago right here at Pearl. It didn't seem right to be celebrating like this. He couldn't come to terms with why Michael had died and he had lived. They had both crouched low to return fire on their pursuers. Lee rose first and then Michael, only a second separated their movements but it was Michael that caught the bullet. He had just gotten his promotion and orders to report to his first command, he had a lot to live for; but Michael had more, a wife and a baby not even born yet. Where was the equity in all of this? He realized that his facial expression wasn't going to cut it for the celebration, so he plastered on a smile and approached the tables. He was greeted with a rip roaring “Ahoy there Commander!” and the Wetting Down commenced.

* * * * *

After the dunk in the drink his buddies supplied the towels, an ample amount and more than necessary to do the job. He didn't towel off his head, preferring to let the water glide down his face as he walked back to the pub. The dunk in the drink had done him good. It was time to put his feelings aside and get ready to take command of his new boat, the Baton Rouge.

Lee's eyes dropped toward Chip as he returned from his recollection to the here and now.

“I know what it's called, Chip,” he said making eye contact with his friend. “Survivor's guilt,” he finished soundly. “But I'm alright, really. I put it away and go on, it's just that every year at this time it comes back, and I choose to remember.”

Chip nodded, costing him a little something in the headache department. “You know Lee, I don't think you're supposed to forget. How could you? But there was way more to Michael's life than those final moments, and I hope you remember that too?”

Lee nodded, his eyebrows sharpening as he stared back out the windows, but fully taking in the wise words of his best friend.

“I think Michael would be honored to know you still think about him, but to feel guilty that you made it and he didn't? No way! I know you were closer to Michael than I was, but I'm sure if he were here right now he'd kick you in the butt for beating yourself up this way.”

Lee cracked a smile as Chip responded with his own smile, albeit it pained for the effort.

“So, you want to know why it took me so long to meet you at LAX?”

* * * * *

Harry stood at the Chart Table watching as Bobby O'Brien made a familiar circuit about the Control Room floor. He smiled inside at the young officer emulating his Captain, but quickly schooled his momentary satisfaction back. Sparks had been trying to reach FS1 since she missed her scheduled radio check; Patterson was monitoring the sounds of thermal activity through the hydrophones; engineering was giving him flank speed and Seaview was operating in top form. He didn't know what he'd find when they reached FS1's last known coordinates but the Admiral in him kept him calm and emotionless, at least on the outside. On the inside he dreaded the possibilities that awaited him and the thought of losing both Lee and Chip was too much to deal with, so he pushed his fears aside and willed himself to focus on the Boat and getting to FS1; ETA - One hour.

* * * * *

“So, you want to know why it took me so long to meet you at LAX?”

Lee sat back recalling the events of earlier this morning on the commercial flight into Los Angeles International Airport.

“Commander?”

Lee turned his head toward the sound of the respectful greeting full of military decorum to see an Army Staff Sergeant in full dress uniform standing at his row.

“May I have a word with you, Sir?”

“Of course, Sergeant,” he said moving his cover and offering the seat beside him.

The Sergeant sat, needing to keep this conversation private, and began speaking as Lee nodded in agreement.

“Sir, my detail is escorting a Fallen Man home to his family. As you are the ranking officer on board this flight, would you do the honor of presiding over the escort upon landing?” The Sergeant's request was given with full military decorum and respect as Lee responded.

“It would be my honor, Sergeant,” he replied without a thought.

The Sergeant stood. “Thank you, Sir,” he replied handing Lee his duty orders with the soldier's name and rank.

Lee stood to take the orders and moved to the aisle. “I'd like to meet your escort detail, Sergeant.”

“Yes Sir,” was rendered in all respect and Lee followed the Sergeant out of First Class to meet the other soldiers on board.

* * * * *

Once the plane landed, Lee was given permission to move about the cabin as he donned his cover and waited with the escort at attention in two lines flanking the airplane hatch. The plane came to a stop short of the tarmac as the pilot briefly informed the passengers that today their flight was honored to bring home the body of a Warrior.

The plane was met by an escort of emergency vehicles with their lights flashing, as a water cannon issued its salute with jet sprays of water creating an arch over the plane. The water sliding down the window providing a visual metaphor of the tears the loved ones waiting had shed for the soldier. The plane stopped short of the ramp as the portable stairs were lined up and the aircraft side hatch was opened.

“Sergeant, kindly give the order to move the honor guard forward,” Lee ordered standing at attention.

“Yes Sir,” the Sergeant replied, responding in crisp military fashion as the detail moved forward and the escort deboarded the aircraft in two sharp rows, three on each side. Lee followed as the honor guard positioned themselves at the cargo hatch and a flag draped coffin was moved from it place with all decorum and dignity onto a waiting motorized cart. Off to the side, stood members of the soldier's family, witnessing their loved one coming home. The coffin was loaded and the cart moved forward very slowly with the coffin flanked by the honor guard and Commander Lee Crane walking beside the escort soldiers crisply marching in synch with the detail. Another order was given, the cart halted and the detail picked up the flag draped coffin and moved it inside the waiting hearse.

“Present Arms,” was issued as Lee and the detail saluted their fallen brother. Lee executed an about face and moved to escort the soldier's family to the hearse. The hearse moved forward slowly as the detail flanked it all the way off the tarmac...

“Wow, Lee,” Chip offered as Lee took a deep breath.

“Strange how it happened today,” Lee said wistfully.

Maybe not so strange, he amended to himself silently. Perhaps it was time to let the memories of Michael move beyond his death and the funeral.

“It was an honor,” Lee recalled in almost a whisper as Chip agreed silently.

“How do you feel, Lee?” Chip asked cautiously.

“I don't know. I've spent a good part of the day trying to figure it out. I think I'm okay though Chip, maybe more okay than I've been since it happened,” Lee said, realizing that escorting the young soldier home today had helped to provide closure in some strange way.

Chip's eyes started to flutter and Lee let loose an easy small smile.

“Go ahead, Chip, take a short nap. I'll wake you up in fifteen,” Lee paused. “And Chip, thanks for listening.”

A small smile formed on Chip's face and then faded as he fell asleep.

Lee leaned over and felt Chip's forehead, satisfied that he wasn't going into shock and then moved back to the windows. The mound was growing, even in the short time it had erupted practically right under them. Before too long, the heated waters from the fissure would host a variety of sea life not usually found at this depth. It was an odd if not fitting parallel to life itself, as the violent eruption gave way to the slow building mound providing a place for life to spring anew.

Lee took the camera viewfinder from its stowed berth and snapped off a few more photos, the red glow of the cooling lava providing enough light even from the distance.

How odd, he thought as he stowed the camera once again, that even the steam vapor of water that nearly did FS1 in seemed to parallel the water cannon salute given by the firefighters today. Out of destruction rises a new sea mount, and though he could never be glad with how it turned out that day three years ago, he could at least finally be at peace.

A small smile appeared and then grew, as off in the distance flood lights began to come into view as Lee's Gray Lady arrived to retrieve her Master and Commander.

* * * * *

“Lee, these photos are amazing!” Harry said with enthusiasm.

Seaview had moved into place and successfully retrieved the flying sub using its magnetic arms and both he and Chip had been brought aboard four hours ago. Chip was sleeping off a concussion in Sickbay as Lee pointed out items of interest on the photos Patterson had just finished developing.

“You know Lee, you discovered the new volcano. You have the right to name it,” Harry said proudly, thinking silently just how proud he was that Lee had taken the time to photograph this once in a lifetime moment. His knowledge of the process was impressive and Harry thought it deserved some time at the upcoming Oceanographer's convention in Amsterdam. He reasoned it was worth shelving one of his own sessions to have Lee present his findings. He was still making plans to this end as Lee replied.

“You know, Sir, I've been giving that some thought...”

* * * * *

“And in tonight's news, oceanographers are just itching to study the newly forming sub-marine volcano discovered almost as it was birthed,” the newscaster reported standing on the deck of a research vessel with a submersible clearly visible in the background behind him.

“The new volcano, christened “Mickie's Tower” was found and registered by the Nelson Institute of Marine Research by a researcher who wishes to remain anonymous. Admiral Nelson reports that the knowledge scientists can acquire from this study is invaluable to understanding the life cycle of sub-marine thermal activity and its knowledge promises to benefit future generations. And now to the weather...”

Gracie Richmond turned off the TV set and then looked down at the resilience of Mickie Richmond Jr, the three year old clearly impressed with his namesake volcano, was now on the floor building a tall tower out of blocks with his playmate, one Lee Crane.

Lee had explained that he “ran into” the volcano on the anniversary of Michael's death and upon watching the formation realized that though the volcano was birthed in violence it now stood proud and strong and that Michael's legacy would live on in the strength of his son.

Over and over she recalled his words and hid them in her heart, for the husband she still loved and the son he left for her to treasure. The sound of blocks crashing to the floor brought her attention back to the dark headed tall officer on the floor chuckling with her three year old.

“Let's build it again, Mickie.”

Mickie nodded and talked endlessly in mostly babbles but some understandable words as they built a better base and began rising their tower once again. Lee looked up at Gracie and gave her a small smile mixed with sorrow and then looked back down at the playful boy in front of him, he allowed his smile to widen as he finally allowed the good memories of his friend to overtake that painful day three years ago.

Meanwhile, 1,200 feet below the sea somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, Mickie's Tower continued to grow in strength and size, one day becoming a new sea mount on the ocean floor.

The End

Volcano Rising

* Captain Matthew Derrick - see my story When Danger Calls

** Wetting Down - A tradition in the Navy to celebrate an officer's new promotion. The celebration gets its name from the traditional dunk the newly promoted officer takes being thrown, with beforehand permission and as respectfully as possible, into the water. www.wikipedia.org

*** BOQ – Bachelor Officer Quarters

**** Submarine Volcanoes – Researched using the resources of wikipedia.org.

Special Credits:

The military escort scene in my story was highly influenced by an article I read sometime back and was recorded by a Travel Journalist who writes under the pen name Johnny Jet. His chronicle of the event and the subsequent video is a touching salute to America's Fallen Warriors. It is note-worthy to know that LAX provides the same salute for all fallen soldiers who arrive at one of the busiest airports in the world. Please also note that several scenes, though told here in story form, have been adapted directly from his report; particularly Johnny Jet's elegant description of the water drops running down the windows. Other scenes were extrapolated based on military decorum and this fan fiction writer's creative license.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/johnny-jet/fallen-soldier-on-my-delt_b_4190180.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3iHAmU8poo

Author's Notes:

I first read this article back in November of 2013 and it impacted me greatly, so much so that I continued to recall the story with strong emotions. It was my intention to honor not only the fallen of America's heroes but the families they leave behind. It is my hope that I have done so with both dignity and respect for all concerned. Lynn

Copyright 2014, All Rights Reserved

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