This is another story in the series inspired by the Uncharted Waters crossover challenge and directly follows the events in Deadly Echoes. It is not precisely a crossover, though it does refer to characters in another series. Those readers who saw the episode of Gunsmoke in which Richard Basehart guest starred will probably have a better understanding of some of the events mentioned in the story, but is not necessary to have seen that show to enjoy the story.

Dedicated to the memory of friend and fellow Voyage fan Susan Gasper. She is sorely missed.

Bloodlines

By T. Storm

It was exactly two weeks before Thanksgiving and Admiral Harriman Nelson was fighting a losing battle with his sister Edith. It had been just two weeks since the insane day that John Smith had penetrated NIMR security in an attempt to murder the Seaview’s executive officer, Chip Morton. As soon as the news had broken on national TV, Edith had called her brother, informing him that she was catching the first plane from Boston to Santa Barbara, with the expressed intention of nursing ‘her poor darling Chip’ back to health. Nelson had managed delay her with the news that Morton was in the hospital in Santa Barbara under police guard and would be for at least a week. Visitors were being strictly limited - even he and Crane didn‘t get to see him every day. That it was largely because the Institute was covered up with cops and media was a detail he neglected to mention. He also didn’t tell her that Chip Morton’s oldest brother Hank was camped out at the hospital and was keeping them updated. She’d pouted, but deferred flying out. Morton was released into Jamison’s care several days earlier than expected, which gave the man three days of freedom before Edith was due to arrive. He spent most of the time with Hank, since his brother had to return to Chicago and his job as a captain with the fire department by week’s end.

Edith had arrived determined to cosset Morton. He’d appealed for help and Jamison had managed to keep her at bay for the next week by putting him in a private room in the Infirmary and again limiting visitation - on the grounds that he had to rest to heal. Which was true enough, but this was the first time Morton had ever voluntarily stayed in the doctor’s domain if he was even remotely mobile.

Nelson had tried to help Morton out by keeping his sister occupied, but the whirling red-haired dynamo was running even him into the ground. Lee Crane, who had been the object of her romantic overtures in the past, had holed up aboard the Seaview, with the excuse that since his executive officer was laid up, as captain he needed to personally supervise preparations for the short cruise they were scheduled to do in between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Nelson was about at his wit’s end. He had finally begged his administrative secretary Angie to take Edith shopping, to lunch, anything to give him a break. He even promised to pay for all of it. Fortunately she had taken pity on him and taken Edith off to Santa Barbara for the afternoon.

Nelson sat at his desk restlessly shuffling the paperwork that had piled up while he’d been busy trying to keep his sister separated from Lt. Commander Morton. He had consumed far too much coffee that morning and missed lunch altogether. He loved his sister dearly - the two of them were the only surviving members out of their parent’s six children, indeed out of the entire Nelson clan - but she sometimes drove him to distraction. The seventeen years between them was a chasm at times. He had grown up during the lean hard years of the Great Depression and World War II, while she had come to maturity in the postwar boom years. Not to mention that she’d been a real surprise, having been born twelve years after the next oldest of her siblings. He sighed. Their parents had doted on her, for she was their only daughter to survive, having lost Harry’s twin sister Harriet at the tender age of four. Unfortunately that meant Edith had been rather pampered. She had been even more spoiled by their maternal aunt after the death of their parents and oldest brother in a plane crash in 1953 when Edith was but twelve. She’d grown up expecting to have her every whim granted.

Nelson got up and walked over to the window to stretch his leg muscles. He stood looking out on the vast blue expanse of the Pacific, recalling the circumstances when Edith had first taken a fancy to Crane and Morton. They were Midshipmen at Annapolis and in one of the classes that the then Captain Nelson was teaching. She’d come up to visit her brother for his birthday. Nelson had called the pair into his office about a project they were working on. Edith waltzed in unannounced and was immediately taken by Crane’s darkly handsome looks - she’d decided then and there she wanted to marry him. Unfortunately, their Grandmother Nelson, who was the only person who could say no to Edith and make it stick, absolutely wouldn’t hear of it. Crane’s ancestry was too obviously foreign, with his paternal grandfather having been an Armenian who‘d Americanized his name. Edith had then considered Morton, but his bloodline was too common to suit Grandmother’s high standards. After all, his father was a just a fireman, even if he was a battalion chief. Neither was he Irish. Besides, they were sailors, even if they were going to be officers. Edith had pointed out that her brother Harry was too. Her Grandmother had sniffed and commented that he was a great disappointment to the family. Edith had observed in return that the beginnings of the Nelson family fortune had come from an ancestor who had been a sea captain and that their mother’s grandfather had been one as well - a remark that had earned her a disapproving glare. In the end her Grandmother’s wishes had prevailed, so Edith had with great reluctance dropped her pursuit of the two young officers and confined her attentions to the young men of Boston Irish society that Grandmother had deemed appropriate. Unfortunately for Crane and Morton, Edith hadn’t found one that suited her standards, so when her Grandmother had finally passed on in 1965 at the age of 87, Edith came back to Annapolis.

Disappointingly for Edith, the two young men had both graduated and were serving on ships at sea. Her brother told her he had no idea where they were. Thwarted again, Edith had returned to Boston to play the field among the eligible bachelors of high society. Nelson thought she had forgotten the pair. Years later came Seaview and Nelson had chosen Morton to be her executive officer. After the tragic murder of Captain Phillips by enemy agents and Crane’s recruitment to replace him, Edith had rediscovered her fascination with the two. The problem was, neither of them had the slightest interest in her.

Nelson sighed again. He’d tried unsuccessfully since the launch of Seaview two years earlier to steer Edith away from his officers. He knew they’d avoided brutally rejecting her advances solely because she was his sister. It was at the point though where he wouldn’t blame them if they did. He knew that Crane had been dating a woman professor in the archeology department at the University of California at Santa Barbara for several months now. They seemed to be fairly serious about the relationship, though Nelson often wondered where they found time for it since one or the other of them was frequently absent. Crane‘s apparent commitment, he reflected, was probably the reason Edith was putting pressure on Morton. His problem was that he wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment and was therefore fair game in Edith‘s eyes. Nelson rubbed his hands over his face in frustration.

A knock at the door distracted him. He turned. “Come in,” he called.

Philip Haggen, the Institute’s Chief of Security, stuck his head in and asked, “Is it safe?”

Nelson snorted as he waved him on in. “That depends what you’re trying to be safe from.”

Haggen chuckled. “I see Angie took pity on us and dragged Edith off someplace.”

“Yeah,” said Nelson wearily as he sat back down at his desk. Haggen dragged up a chair and plopped down in it. He put an elbow on Nelson’s desk and rested his chin in the palm of one hand as he studied his old friend.

“Harry, you look like ten miles of bad road. You need to turn Edith over your knee and bust her britches for her.”

“Don’t tempt me,” rejoined Nelson. “I just wish she’d realize that the world doesn’t revolve around her whims. Lee’s still holed up on the boat and Chip is cowering behind Jamie. He seems to be the only one who’s impervious to her temper.”

“He’s had lots of practice dealing with you,” Haggen grinned.

Nelson gave a dry laugh, then asked, “So what brings you out into the line of fire?”

“Well, a rather unusual letter arrived the other day for Morton and I thought I’d consult with you before I passed it on to him.” The Institute’s security office had been screening Morton and Patterson’s mail since the incident with Smith. There had been some very sick individuals send the two of them threatening letters, which had been promptly turned over to the police.

“Unusual how?” asked Nelson, his curiosity aroused.

“See for yourself.” Haggen produced the document in question and handed it to the admiral. Nelson opened it and began reading.

Dear Chip,

I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m your Aunt Sammy O’Brien from Dodge City, Kansas. I’m your mother’s older sister. I know you haven’t seen any of us since your mother died and I guess I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to see us now. Daddy’s feeling pretty bad about the way he treated Clarissa after she divorced your dad - he kinda blames himself for her getting mixed up with that awful Smith man. She’d wanted to come home and he instead he gave her a lecture on how marriage was till death do us part. So she took off with you and Cassie and, well, it was a disaster. Your dad and brothers blamed Daddy as well, so they quit coming to visit. But it’s been a long time and I for one would like to put the family back together. I’m hoping we can put it all behind us. Please let me know if you’re willing to give it a try. If you aren’t, well, I can understand that too. Here’s my phone number - 316 - 555 - 3030.

Yours truly,

Aunt Sammy

PS: It was a real surprise for us to find out you’d gone into the Navy and had become an officer. No one ever told us what became of you. It was even more of a surprise to find out you are the second in command on Nelson’s fantastic submarine Seaview. But then again, maybe not. Did your mother ever tell you about her grandpa, Aaron Sligo, who was a sea captain?

Nelson’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead as he read the letter. He put it down on the desk when he finished and frowned. There was something about the letter that triggered a feeling of familiarity, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. He looked Haggen in the eye. “Is this for real?”

“Apparently so. I ran a check on them. A very thorough and exhaustive check, I might add. They really are his relatives.” Haggen shook his head and looked off into nothing, reflection turned inward. “You know,” he said in a somewhat amused tone, “it’s a small world. One of the reasons I became a cop was the stories I used to hear about my great-great-uncle Festus. He was a deputy US Marshal out west.” Haggen grinned. “In Dodge City, Kansas, as a matter of fact.” Getting serious again, he tapped the letter with one finger. “I knew from the police file on the murder of Chip’s mother that she was from Ford County, Kansas. Since there was no mention of her relatives in the report it never occurred to me to look for any. There’s also no mention of any living relatives on his Mother’s side in his Navy personnel file. Instead they have his step-mother’s family.” He shook his head in amazement. “Somebody really fell down on the job there to have missed one whole side of his family. I can understand him not talking about his aunts, uncles and cousins if he hadn’t seen them since he was a small child, but I can’t believe no one ever checked the records to see if they were still living, even if he didn’t know whether or not they were. We need to do some investigating there to see who did the background check on him, where they got the information and just what they might have missed on someone else. Anyway, since Chip never mentioned any other kin, I’d assumed that Chip’s mother must have been an only child. It was a surprise to find this…” he searched for a word, “horde of kinfolk. His mother was the second of five children - she had two sisters and two brothers. He has a couple of dozen first cousins. As for second cousins….,” Haggen rolled his eyes. “Under the circumstances, I doubt Morton even has a clue as to how many of them there are.”

Nelson couldn’t help but smile wryly. “This may have him hiding out in Seaview’s ballast tanks. I’m not sure he’s in any frame of mind to deal with a bunch of strangers right now, even if they are his relatives. You might ask Jamie what he thinks.” He looked thoughtful for a minute. “O’Brien. I wonder if he’s related to Bobby?”

Haggen snorted. “Nah,” he said, then added with a grin, “I checked. Bobby‘s from Pennsylvania. His family’s been there since it was first settled. Morton’s just as likely to be related to you. But I wanted to run this letter by you first, so if he runs out the gate screaming you’ll know why.” He grinned at the last part of his statement.

Nelson harrumphed, stifling a laugh. “Right now he might prefer going to Kansas if it would get him out of Edith’s reach. That’s probably one place she wouldn’t think to look for him.” Nelson shook his head. “Staying in the Infirmary has him chewing the walls. Good thing Jamie has a thick hide.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “I don’t know if the doctor would clear him to travel, at least alone. Hmmm. Have you talked to this aunt of his?” The wheels in Nelson’s mind were clearly turning.

Haggen narrowed his eyes, wondering just what his employer had up his sleeves. These odd shifts in conversation usually meant Nelson was getting a notion. Whether or not it was inspired was another matter. “Nooo,” he drawled slowly. “I figured it was up to Morton to decide if he wanted any contact with them.”

“Go talk to him and see what he thinks. Talk to Jamie too. This really might be a way to get Edith off his back for at least a while. We can always send someone with him if Jamie - or you for that matter - thinks he shouldn’t go alone.”

Haggen reflected. “Well, I would feel better if he took Ski or Pat with him. I know Pat’s going a little stir crazy with his wrist keeping him on light duty.” His eyes took on a calculating look. “Actually, if Morton were to go, I would feel a lot better if he would take Pat since he has the background for it. Ski is a bit of a city kid. Like Morton. The two of them loose in a place like Dodge City would be a disaster waiting to happen.” Haggen grinned. “I did talk to the county sheriff and the Dodge City Chief of Police, though. The family‘s been there since the 1880‘s. Most of the descendants still live in the area. About half of them still make their living raising wheat and cattle. The aunt that wrote the letter is a retired nurse. She’s married to a retired construction contractor. One of her sons is a detective in the city police department and one of her brother‘s boys is a deputy sheriff. They’re pretty intermarried with the founding families. Fairly stable stock. It’s unlikely that anybody there would deliberately do him harm.”

Nelson nodded. “I was hoping that might be the case. Now for Chip’s sake - and our sanity - let’s hope he’s willing to go visit long lost relatives and Edith will take the hint and go back to Boston. Rest assured she wouldn‘t find out from me where he went.”

Haggen got to his feet and gathered up the letter. “I guess my next stop is downstairs.” He gave Nelson a grin. “Maybe I should be the one to go with him, since I had family there too.” Nelson’s laugh followed him out the door.

Haggen made his way to the elevator and rode down to the ground floor. He crossed the hall to the Infirmary and tapped on the door. Doctor Jamison emerged from his office to greet him. “What brings you here today, Philip? Do you require my services or are you making a house call of a different sort?”

“House call, Jamie. Chip got a letter from some of his relatives. Harry thinks it might do the boy good to take some time and go visit. Might send Pat with him, too.”

“So why did the letter come to you and not directly to Chip?” queried the doctor.

Haggen pulled at his ear. “Him and Pat have been getting some strange mail since the business with Smith made the national news, so my office has been screening everything mailed to them. There’s some mighty odd people in the world out there.”

Jamison humphed. “You wouldn’t be talking to me about it if there wasn’t more to the story than that.”

“Discerning as always, Doc. It’s from his mother’s older sister.” He paused to scratch at his temple.

“And?” Jamison had crossed his arms and was giving Haggen a stern look.

“He hasn’t seen any of them since his mother was killed. His aunt is asking him to come visit.”

Jamison rolled his eyes. “If they haven’t seen him since the murders, why do they want to see him now?”

“From what she wrote in the letter, Jamie, the decision to not see Chip wasn’t made on their side.”

“No, it was my father’s choice, not mine or my aunt‘s.” Both men were startled to find Morton standing in the side door behind them. He came on into the room and perched on the edge of the exam table. “I remember the awful fight they had about it. Father thought I was upstairs in my room and that I didn’t know they were there. I was hiding at the corner of the stairs. Sammy was my favorite aunt and I recognized her voice outside when they drove up and got out of the car.” Morton looked off into the distance, sadness in his blue eyes. “My old man said some really hurtful things. They never came back.”

“Why didn’t you go see them when you got out on your own?” asked Jamison.

Morton shrugged as he looked down at his shoes. “I don’t know. I guess I was afraid my father might totally reject me then. He’s one of those my way or no way sorts. It was a real battle to convince him to let me go to the Naval Academy instead of becoming a firefighter. If my Grandfather Morton hadn’t intervened he’d have probably disowned me altogether. As it was, things were rather strained.” He sighed as he looked up at the doctor. “I suspect that one of the chief reasons my mother eventually left him was his domineering attitude.”

Jamison cocked his head to one side. He was still fitting the pieces of the puzzle that was Chip Morton together in his mind and the picture that was emerging concerned him. “Is that the reason it was your brother Hank who came instead of your dad?”

Morton looked down at the floor again and nodded. Jamison patted him on his shoulder in silent support. Haggen pulled the letter out of his pocket and solemnly handed it to Morton, who unfolded it and began to read. When he was finished, he sat looking at the wall, but not really seeing it.

Haggen cleared his throat, bringing Morton out of his reverie. “The Admiral has suggested that you take Patterson with you. He’s promised not to tell Edith if you want to go.”

The deer-in-the-headlights expression on Morton’s face at the mention of Edith Nelson was priceless. It took a masterful effort by both Jamison and Haggen to not laugh. “Uh, Doc,” said Morton, “you did clear me to fly didn’t you?”

Jamison managed a straight face. “Only if you’ll take somebody else to do any lifting.”

“That lets Pat out then, with his wrist,” said Morton.

“Not entirely,” interjected Haggen. “I’d prefer you took Pat because he has the kind of background to know his way around a place like Dodge City. I know you were gonna suggest Kowalski instead, but he’s a city kid. Pat can probably do a better job of keeping you out of trouble. Besides, you’ve got all kinds of cousins to pitch in and help carry.”

“I would approve flying under those conditions,” said Jamison, still trying to hide a smile. “Pat’s been going stir crazy on just light duty. It’ll give him something to keep him occupied. And he’s not nearly as likely to find trouble as Ski.” Not to mention the fact that the doctor considered Patterson to be far more sensible than Kowalski, in addition to being one of the most closemouthed individuals on the boat.

“True,” reflected Morton. He turned to Haggen. “Can you get us out of here and on a plane without Edith finding out?”

“You bet I can,” Haggen assured him. “Especially if we leave before daylight tomorrow. I can take both of you to the airport myself. It’d probably be best to charter a flight instead of using the Institute‘s plane. Not only can you go directly to the airport nearest to Dodge City, but there’s less chance of being seen or traced. Oh, you might want to check the weather before you pack. It’s most likely winter there.” He paused. “You probably ought to call your aunt and see where they expect you to stay. They might not want Pat staying at their place - if that’s the case I’d rather you stayed at a motel so he’d be around to keep an eye on things. If they question it, just lay the blame on me and the Admiral. We’ve grown rather fond of you, boy, and we’d not want to be looking to have replace you.” Morton turned a faint shade of pink, embarrassed but pleased too.

“Okay.” Morton looked at his watch. It was 2:18 PM Pacific Time, which meant that it was two hours later in Dodge City. “I better go call now. I don’t want to interrupt her in the middle of supper.” Morton hopped off the exam table and headed out the door to go to his office - after a quick look up and down the hall to make sure the coast was clear.

Haggen shook his head at Morton’s behavior and said to Jamison, “We gotta do something about Edith. That boy’s getting plumb paranoid.”

Jamison looked thoughtful and commented, “I hope Edith is the only problem.” Haggen shot a questioning look the doctor‘s way. Jamison continued, “This business with his father cutting him completely off from his mother’s family really bothers me. I wasn’t aware that that had happened. I knew from Lee that there was a lot of static from Chip’s father over him choosing to go to the Naval Academy instead of joining the fire department. Now I‘m wondering if Chip ever got to really deal with all the aspects of the murder of his mother and sister. And if his emotional mask doesn‘t cover up a lot more than I realized.”

Haggen looked concerned. “You think he’s comin’ unglued?”

Jamison shook his head. “I don’t know, Philip. He may have a lot more emotional baggage to work through than any of us dreamed. I’m wondering now if letting him go might not be a mistake.”

********

Morton sat at his desk with the letter from his aunt on the desk in front of him. He picked up the receiver, dialed 9 for an outside line, then at the sound of the dial tone, took a deep breath and dialed the number she’d written. He could hear the soft clicks of telephone relays as the long distance call rapidly winged it’s way eastward. The phone on the other end began to ring as he held his breath. He wasn’t quite sure what to say to his aunt.

The phone picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello?” said a feminine voice. Even after thirty years he recognized his aunt’s voice.

Morton let out the breath he was holding. “Aunt Sammy?” he said softly, “it’s … Chip.” There was a gasp on the other end of the line.

“Chip?!” The voice was incredulous. “Oh, my God. Chip! You got my letter? I didn’t know if you’d get it or not since I sent it to the Nelson Institute. Oh, my dear boy, are you alright? Oh, it was so awful when we saw on the news what had happened.” She was running on, excited. Morton put his elbow on his desk and rested his chin in his palm, letting his thoughts range back to the memories of his aunt. A wistful smile crossed his face. “Oh, Don,” she called to someone else who had apparently just entered the room, “it’s your cousin Chip. Go find your dad.” He could tell that his aunt was on the verge of tears. Hopefully they were tears of joy.

While she was catching her breath, Morton interjected, “Aunt Sammy, uh, I was wondering, well, if you’d mind if I came out for a visit?”

“Mind?! Good Heavens, no, Chip. With the kids all grown and gone, we’ve got plenty of room in this old house. You’re welcome to come and stay as long as you like.” His aunt sounded overjoyed at the prospect.

“Uh, there’s just one small problem. My doctor and boss don’t want me traveling alone. They’d like one of the men from the Institute to come along with me. After what happened, well, the security people are a bit paranoid.”

This seemed to quash some of his aunt’s enthusiasm. “Well, I suppose. But a bodyguard? Is it really necessary Chip?” The idea of a stranger with a gun shadowing her nephew gave her pause.

Morton laughed. “Patterson’s not one of the security people, Aunt Sammy. He’s a seaman from the boat. He was with me in the crash - broke his wrist so he’s on light duty right now. They just don’t want me somewhere where no one knows how to get hold of the Admiral or Doctor Jamison in an emergency.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Morton could tell that her enthusiasm had returned full force, “he’s certainly welcome to come along. Does he know anything about living in the country?”

“He grew up on a farm in Nebraska. I think he’ll probably get along better than I will, Aunt Sammy.”

His aunt laughed. “You always were a bit of a city boy weren’t you,” she said fondly. “But we certainly can’t go around calling him Patterson. What’s his first name?”

“Steve, but he prefers to go by Pat.”

“You tell Pat he’s more than welcome. When were you planning on coming? Is there any chance you can be here for Thanksgiving?”

Morton took a deep breath. “Actually, Aunt Sammy, I was wondering if we could come tomorrow. The Admiral has offered to charter a plane so we don’t have to fly commercially. It… it’s still a bit painful for me to lean back against anything for too long. I have to get up and move around. It could get awkward on a commercial flight. Is there an airport nearby?”

His aunt paused for a moment. “Is that all there is to it?“ she asked dryly, her giddiness momentarily contained. Morton almost swore. She obviously remembered him better than he’d thought.

He sighed. “I promise you, Aunt Sammy, that it’s nothing that would get anybody there in any trouble or put them in any danger. I just need to get out of here before.. before I do something ungentlemanly.”

His aunt laughed gently. “That sounds like girl trouble, Chip.”

“Trouble,” said Morton in a droll tone, “doesn’t begin to describe it. Outright menace to life and liberty would be a better description. Please, can we come?” His voice had taken on a pleading note at the last.

“Is she your girlfriend, Chip? You haven‘t done anything you shouldn‘t? She’s not in trouble is she?” His aunt wanted to make sure there was nothing untoward going on. Not that she thought her nephew was the sort, but she hadn’t seen him in nearly thirty years.

“No! She’s not my girlfriend. Not now, not ever. She…. just ignores that I’m not interested and never have been. She hangs around the Institute and …wishes. She‘s gotten to be a real nuisance.” Morton let some of his exasperation color his voice.

“Then why doesn’t your boss do something about her?” she asked in a reasonable tone.

Morton groaned. “Aunt Sammy… it’s the Admiral’s baby sister. And he’s tried to get her to leave me and Lee alone for the past two years. That’s why he’s chartering a plane for me and Pat to get out of here. He’s at his wit’s end with her himself.”

“Oh, dear,” said his aunt, beginning to understand. “And who’s Lee?”

“Seaview’s captain, Lee Crane. My best friend since the Naval Academy. We were roommates. He’s got a steady girlfriend to keep Edith at bay, but I don’t.”

“I see,” she observed. And she did see. “I think we can hide you out, Chip. You and your friend Pat are welcome to come tomorrow. You can fly right into Dodge City - the airport’s out on the east side of town. You don‘t have to rent a car, we‘ve got a couple so you can just use one of them. I can come pick you up.”

“Thank you, Aunt Sammy. I was .. afraid if you knew why I wanted to come now that … you might not let me.” Sammy heard the pain in his voice and felt her heart break for her nephew.

“You’re family, Chip,” she told him softly, “family is always welcome here.”

Morton closed his eyes as he struggled with his emotions. “You don’t know how much it means to me, Aunt Sammy. Things have been … turbulent here lately.”

Something in his voice told his aunt that he was understating the case. She began to get a feeling that her nephew was verging on a crash of the emotional sort and was seeking a safe refuge. Her old suspicions that Chip’s father hadn’t really let the boy deal with the tragic deaths of his mother and sister resurfaced. Add in the return of the killer and Sammy O’Brien had the feeling that Chip Morton was hanging on by a thread. She wondered if there was anyone she could talk to there at the Institute. Perhaps this Doctor Jamison he’d mentioned. But how to get through? When she’d tried to call two weeks earlier the switchboard operator had refused to either give her any information or transfer her call through to someone who would. She needed a phone number. “Chip, you said you needed somebody with you in case of an emergency to contact people back there. Is there a number you could give me for the same thing? I’m sure I won’t need it, but…”

“Sure,” he said, “do you have something to write with?” At her affirmative he rattled off a phone number and two extensions. “The first one is Captain Crane’s extension. The second one is Doctor Jamison.”

Bingo.

“You’d better go pack, dear, if you haven’t already. Remember, it’s a lot colder here than in California.”

“I will, Aunt Sammy. I’ll call you when we get to the airport. It’ll probably be after lunch. I’d call you before we left, but Haggen says it’ll be before daylight.”

“Haggen?”

“Philip Haggen. He’s the Chief of Security for the Institute. He’s going to drive me and Pat to the airport so Edith can’t find out where we’ve gone.” His voice held a wry note.

He heard the sound of his aunt‘s laughter. “This Edith sounds like a terror, Chip, if your Security Chief can’t handle her.”

“Aunt Sammy, you don’t know the half of it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Yes, dear. Chip,” she paused, “you know we never stopped loving you.”

There was a moment of silence, then he said softly, “I know.” He gently replaced the receiver and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. It had gone better than he expected. He got to his feet and went to the window to stare out at the sea as he tried to sort through the turmoil of his emotions.

*******

Samantha O’Brien was still staring thoughtfully at the phone when her husband Earl came in the kitchen door. “Don said his cousin Chip called,” he stated as he settled in a chair at the kitchen table. Sammy turned around to look at her tall, lanky husband of forty-eight years.

“He did. He’s flying out here tomorrow with one of the men off the submarine.” Her thoughtful expression told Earl that something was up. Not necessarily something bad - he’d learned to read his wife fairly well in the years they’d been married and her demeanor now wasn‘t a harbinger of disaster. More like something unwished for but not entirely unexpected.

“So, Ma,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, “what’s the twist on this one?”

She smiled fondly at him. “You know me so well.” Her expression turned serious. “You remember the discussion we had several years ago with your brother Cliff about Chip and his father?” Earl’s look turned somber. His younger brother Cliff was a psychiatrist in Wichita. “It looks like he was right about Henry Morton denying Chip the opportunity to really deal with Clarissa and Cassie’s deaths. I think having this Smith person come back after him has cracked the walls Chip has built around his emotions his whole life. I think… I think he’s headed for a crash.”

Earl sighed. “And you want to try and help him through it.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement of fact.

Sammy looked at him. “Do you think that Henry Morton will?” Her voice held a tart note that conveyed her feelings about Chip’s father in no uncertain terms.

Another sigh. “Not the Henry Morton that I knew. So who’s the fella coming with him?”

“Pat Patterson. Chip says he was in the crash with him and broke his wrist.”

Earl had to grin and shake his head. “Another stray for you to mother.”

Sammy sniffed and flipped a dishtowel at him. “Oh, Pa! You exaggerate so.” Earl laughed as he took himself out of range and headed into the living room. Sammy sat in the chair her husband had just vacated and contemplated the phone number on the pad in front of her. Her instincts both as a nurse and mother were telling her that for Chip’s sake she needed to talk to someone there in Santa Barbara who knew her nephew - and find out what he hadn’t said. She took a deep breath and made a decision.

**********

Jamison had just settled at his desk with Lt. Commander Morton’s medical file when the phone rang. He answered. “Jamison here.”

“Doctor Jamison,” said the woman, a slight Midwestern twang accenting her voice, “you don’t know me, but I’m Chip Morton’s aunt, Samantha O’Brien.” Jamison sat straight up in his chair, astonishment written across his features. He’d been setting there wondering if he should call this woman.

“Ah, yes, Mrs. O’Brien. Did Chip just talk to you?” That was the only way Jamison could figure she’d gotten his number. Which left the question of why she was calling him.

“Yes, he did. It was a joy to finally hear from him after all these years.” She paused as if uncertain of what to say next. He waited patiently for her to continue. “Doctor Jamison, did Chip tell you I was a nurse for most of my working career?”

“No, but we hadn’t talked about you much.” A nurse. Jamison almost held his breath. This could be the answer to his prayers.

“I see. Are you aware of the situation with his father?” She sounded very businesslike - this was the nurse talking, not just his aunt. Jamison began to get a glimmer of hope that he might be given some more pieces of the Chip Morton puzzle.

“I suspected problems there, but didn’t have any confirmation until recently.”

There was a snort from the other end of the line. “Let me guess. While Chip was in the hospital Henry Morton Senior couldn’t stir his butt out of Chicago to come see his son.” The tartness in her voice spoke volumes. It also convinced Jamison that this was indeed Chip’s aunt - and that she cared about her nephew’s well-being.

“I’m afraid you’re entirely correct. I hope you don’t mind, but I did read the letter you sent Chip. He told us that it was his father who broke the ties and refused to let you see him anymore.” The sigh that came down the line told Jamison more than words ever could. “You’re worried about his emotional state, too, aren’t you?” Jamison’s voice conveyed sympathy.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I was hoping I might be over-reacting, but Henry Morton was a very repressive man. He wasn’t physically abusive, but emotionally…. I was afraid that the Chip we knew wouldn’t survive it. He was such a shy child, sensitive and loving, but even before the killings, he‘d begun to retreat into himself and build walls. His father just ran rough shod over his wife and his children. When Clarissa and Cassie were killed, it got even worse. We didn’t even know that Chip had gotten into the Naval Academy - no one ever bothered to let us know. Don’t get me wrong, Doctor, the lack of communication over the years since isn’t something I blame Chip for. I expect that Henry let him know in no uncertain terms that if he ever tried to contact us there would be consequences.”

She stopped for a moment to collect herself, then continued. “Doctor, do you see any indications in Chip that this business with Smith has brought his emotions about his mother and sister back up? I’m concerned that he never got to deal with the grief properly the first time and that it’s going to come crashing through his walls. When it does, well, it’s going to be bad.”

“Mrs. O’Brien, unfortunately I suspect exactly that myself. He’s been very good over the years at masking his emotions. He’s not given any overt signs of a breakdown.” Now it was Jamison’s turn to sigh. “There’s been another situation that might have been masking the signs.”

“That wouldn’t be Edith, would it?” came the droll question.

Jamison had to chuckle. “Oh, he told you about her, did he?”

“Well, I did have to dig a little. Just what is going on there?”

“Spoiled little rich girl who isn’t used to the word no,” was Jamison’s dry reply.

“Oh, dear. Chip is the unobtainable object she desires?”

“More like the consolation prize, since the man she really wants is slipping out of her grasp. I have to personally wonder if she actually wants Chip or just thinks that it’ll make the man she really wants jealous.” Jamison found it easy to confide in Chip’s aunt.

“That would be Lee Crane, from what Chip said. How sad. He mentioned she’s the Admiral’s little sister?”

“Only living sister, only living sibling left. I think most of the problem is that she was so much younger than any of her four brothers that it was almost like she was an only child. Plus her parents had lost their only other daughter at a very young age to illness and then a son in Korea. Add to that having her parents and oldest brother were killed in a plane crash when she was twelve, leaving her to be raised by a maiden aunt since her two remaining brothers were both grown with careers of their own and ….”

“I see. Spoiled rotten. Used to having every whim catered to.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“Poor Chip. I take it though that his Admiral has a realistic understanding of the situation.” Mrs. O’Brien wanted to make sure of that, otherwise this admiral person was going to get a piece of her mind.

“Fortunately for him and Lee, yes. It was Admiral Nelson’s idea that Chip should get out of here for a while and get him clear of the temper tantrum she’ll probably throw.”

“Hmmm. Nelson sounds like he cares a great deal about the people who work for him.”

“Oh, he does. Most times he acts gruff and macho, but he’s a softy at heart.” Mrs. O’Brien’s laughter carried clearly down the line as he spoke.

“That’s a relief to know. So, Doctor, what do you want to do about my nephew?”

“Mrs. O’Brien, I’ll be honest. Until you called, I was giving serious thought to calling you. I was very concerned about him going off to stay with people he hadn’t seen in thirty years. You’ve no idea how much this conversation has relieved my mind. Given what you’ve said, I think now that coming to stay with you might be just the thing he needs. You know it may get rough?”

“Doctor,” she said gently, “I worked in a hospital psych ward for over ten years. It’s not like I don’t have any background in this. Plus, if I need him, my husband’s younger brother is a psychiatrist. He already knows about Henry Morton - we’ve discussed over the years whether or not we ought to try and contact Chip.”

Jamison’s sigh was one of relief. “In that case, I’ll rest a lot easier. If anything comes up, you know where to call. In fact, I’ll put your name on the switchboard list so that even if I’m not here you can always get hold of somebody if there’s an emergency. Also, if something should happen that you need me to come myself, the Institute has a private jet so I can get there in a matter of hours.”

“Now that will relieve my mind, Doctor. Better safe than sorry. It sounds like Chip has good friends out there.”

“He does, Mrs. O’Brien, he does. We all want to see him get through this.”

********

Morton sat in one of the passenger seats of the chartered Learjet and looked out the window at the shadowy landscape below, with only the occasional twinkle of light to lighten the darkness as they soared eastbound over the Mojave Desert. The cabin lights had been turned off at his request, ostensibly so he and Patterson could sleep, but his inner turmoil refused to let him relax. He stared instead at the incredible vista of the night sky. The moon had yet to set; it was waning gibbous, past full but not yet to the last quarter. The pale light had washed out the dimmer stars, but Ursa Major, Ursa Minor with the pole star Polaris, Auriga, Draco and Cassiopeia sparkled before him in the northern sky. Being on a submarine, sometimes he forgot how beautiful and glorious the night sky was. He remembered nights like this on the beach with Scathach as she had told him different legends, both human and Sea Folk - or Dawimhlar as they called themselves - of how the constellations and stars got their names. She’d known not just the Greek myths, but many of the Native American, Celtic, African and Oriental legends. He’d realized when he studied astronomy at the Academy that a lot of the historical background had seemed strangely familiar - it had taken the events of the past few weeks for him to realize just where he’d learned it.

For someone whom my father insisted didn’t exist, she certainly taught me a lot. He smiled wryly at the thought, then sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He closed his eyes as his memory took him back to the first time he‘d encountered Scathach.

Chip huddled on the beach in a cluster of rocks under an old decrepit pier, crying silently to himself as he rocked back and forth. His stepfather had been drinking - again. When the man had started throwing things and screaming curses at him, Chip fled the house as fast as his six year old legs could carry him. He’d run all the way to the ocean, some eight blocks from where they lived, and slipped under the old pier to hide. Fortunately for him this stretch of coast was rocky - too rocky for his inebriated step-father to come prowl the beach looking for a frightened and lonely little boy. Things were bad. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, but it must be his fault somehow. He wanted to go home, back to his real dad, back to Chicago by the big lake where his Dad was a fireman with a big shiny red truck.

Something moved over in the darkest corner under the pier. Chip’s eyes got very wide as a pair of glowing green orbs looked out at him. He froze in sheer terror, torn between the monster he knew was stalking him outside and the unknown before him. Then “it” spoke.

“You look like someone who could use a friend,” said the disembodied voice. It was feminine, but it wasn’t. There were all sorts of strange undertones; Chip was reminded of a cat purring. Well, he liked cats, even if his dad and step-dad didn’t. He finally remembered to breathe.

“Who are you?” Chip hated it when his voice squeaked like that.

“I am Scathach,” purred the great beast, leaning out of the shadows where he could begin to discern features. Definitely catlike in the face, she had whiskers around a short muzzle, along with a short mane-like fringe of hair framing small, round ears on the sides of her head. Long tufts of coarse fur above her now silver eyes gave the appearance of eyebrows. As she moved farther forward into the light, he saw she was completely covered in smoky grey fur with faint swirling stripes. She was about as tall as his mother, he thought, but most of it was in body length - her legs and arms were relatively short, making him think of the sea otters he’d seen in the zoo last summer. Her clothing consisted of a short fringed blue and green plaid skirt and something that looked kind of like a harness on top, with sandals that matched the harness. He couldn’t help but stare at her webbed toes.

She held out a hand to him.

Chip hesitantly reached out his own small hand and slipped it into hers. “I’m Chip,” he said hesitantly. She smiled and her eyes twinkled at him.

“Most pleased to meet you, Chip.” Her voice resonated all the way into his bones, but he found he liked it. Liked it enough that when she patted the ground beside her, he instantly snuggled up and burrowed his face into her warm soft fur.

Morton blinked back to the present when the jet bucked in a small pocket of turbulence. He opened his eyes to behold the first rays of sunrise that were beginning to lighten the sky ahead. His first encounter with Scathach had been a bit like sunrise after a cold dark night, he thought to himself. She’d not asked him why he had come running to hide under the pier in tears, but before the first day was out, he’d confided in her. Over the course of that summer she’d helped him to understand that the divorce of his parents wasn’t in any way his fault. He had even taken his twin sister Cassie with him once to meet her and the others. The only problem was that Smith, as he now knew him, had kept a much tighter rein on his sister. In retrospect, Morton suspected it was partly because the bastard feared Cassie might say to or do something with an adult that would give away his monstrous behavior. He wondered if Scathach had suspected the sexual abuse of his sister. That might account for her showing up at the house that fateful day - unfortunately, it had been too late to save his mother and twin. She had been able to save him, though, and before the police had taken him away, he had gotten a glimpse of Scathach in the bushes, a look of anguish on her bloodied face. It had been the last time he’d seen any of the Dawimhlar.

He sighed. After that his dad had come and gotten him. For a while, as his other relatives fussed over him, things had been, if not okay, at least better. Eventually things began to settle back into normal. That’s when he discovered what a bastard his father really was. The man refused to speak about Chip’s mother or sister, acted like they had never existed. He’d even gone so far as to put away all the pictures of them. He’d even refused to let any of her family come back to visit. It had left Chip Morton bewildered and lost.

Then when he’d tried to tell his father about Scathach! Morton flinched with the memory of the whipping he’d gotten. Had it not been for his oldest brother Hank, his father might have beaten him senseless that day. He had taken great care after that not to mention the Sea Folk, though every so often his father would drag it up and throw it in his face as example of his runaway imagination. It eventually became easier just to agree with him that, no, there were no such creatures, that they were just a fairy tale. The thing that saved his sanity, he supposed, was recalling his discussions with Scathach about why his mother had left his dad. She’d carefully suggested that there might be a very good reason his mother had left that had nothing to do with him or his sister. He’d resisted the idea initially, but by the time of the murders she’d managed to convince him that adults were responsible for their own actions and that most of what the majority of them did had very little to do with their children.

He’d been sad and all too wise for his years after that. The only real affection he got was from his brothers - Hank and his wife wound up becoming his surrogate parents. His father had gone so far as to refuse to call him by the pet name of Chip that his mother had given him because Cassie couldn’t say Charles Philip. It was Charles or Charlie, which he absolutely detested. Even his brothers weren’t allowed to call him Chip when he was around. That, he came to wry conclusion, was the beginning of the festering rebellion in his soul that had led to Annapolis and the Navy. That and a need to try and find Scathach and the other Dawimhlar.

He’d begun to wonder himself if he’d imagined Scathach and the others once he returned to the sea and couldn’t find anyone else who’d ever seen them. He’d discretely pursued every lead he could find. The discrepancies between the Selkie myths and reality he had known had left him puzzled, but at the same time encouraged him. If they were just a story he’d heard, then why were they so different in his memory from the legends? Eventually though, as time passed and he could find no reference or trace of them, he’d reluctantly given up the search as a lost cause. They seemed to have vanished from the face of the planet.

Until the fateful day that Smith had shown up at the Institute to finish the job that he’d started thirty years earlier.

Throwing a hornet’s nest into the cab of the stolen truck Smith was driving had been a stroke of genius. It was also the sort of thing he could see Scathach coming up with - she‘d done something similar with a stuck-up tourist once. The memory brought a grin. The results had been satisfyingly spectacular - in both cases. Both men had gotten exactly what they’d deserved. Scathach had firmly believed that sooner or later the cosmic scales balanced out - if not in this life, then the next. Though she wasn’t above giving the scales a tip in the right direction if necessary. Seeing her rise up out of the bushes beside the road had given him quite a shock. He had momentarily thought he’d lost his mind - then Smith’s truck had careened over the edge of the road into the canyon, putting an abrupt and violent end to the career of a serial killer. He wasn’t the least bit surprised that the police pursuing the stolen semi hadn’t seen her. She had a real knack for disappearing in plain sight. What had astonished him was that Patterson had seen her. Morton couldn’t help but wonder if that wasn’t her way of assuring him that what had happened was real, not his imagination.

He’d not seen her since, but she’d left another calling card for him. The morning before his final interview with the police, he’d found a toy fire engine and a conch shell necklace in the front seat of his T-bird. Not just any engine though - it was his, with his initials scratched in the underside, a gift from his father on his sixth birthday. He’d left it with Scathach to keep Smith from smashing it and had never gotten the opportunity to retrieve it. The necklace was just like the one Faileas had given him when he’d learned how to swim. Given the circumstances, it might well be the same one. He had both items packed in his luggage. He hadn’t told the police about either article or that he thought he knew who the mysterious figure was - he’d have wound up in a padded cell. Worse would have been if the Admiral had believed him and organized a hunt for the Dawimhlar. Morton sighed again. Sometimes Nelson let his scientific curiosity override his good sense.

He looked out the window at the steadily brightening sky and wondered where it was all headed.

********

The Learjet banked into a turn and lined up for final approach at the Dodge City airport. Morton looked out the window at the town spread out below. It had grown since the last time he’d been here. It was a small city now, sprawling along the north bank of the Arkansas River. He remembered fishing in the river with his uncle and one of his cousins who was about five years older than him, but couldn’t remember which one of the boys it was.

Let‘s see, he thought. Junior? No. He was the oldest. I think he was nearly Daniel’s age. Don was next oldest. That’s it. It was Don who used to love to fish so much. He was about five years older than me, but he didn’t seem to mind me tagging along too much. Chip found he could picture a grinning, lanky red-haired boy in his mind. A 20^th century Kansas version of Tom Sawyer. Let’s see, there were five all together - no six. Wait. Haggen told me there were two more girls. So that makes eight. Five girls and three boys. Hmmm. Mackie was actually closer to my age, but he was a bookworm. And what were the last two girls named?

He sighed. Haggen had briefed him the evening before on some of the changes that had occurred in his family since the last time he’d seen them. His grandmother Jane was a decade dead and his grandfather Ryan Sligo was bedridden in a nursing home at the age of ninety-one. He had two grown female cousins that had been born after the split with his father - he hadn’t even known they existed. For the life of him he couldn’t remember what Haggen had said their names were.

The plane touched lightly down, rolling out to a near stop, then turned to taxi back to the terminal building. Across the aisle, two of his three companions stretched and began gathering up their luggage. Morton caught Patterson’s eye and couldn’t help the small grin that flashed across his face. Jamison and Haggen had decided to make the trip with them. They were only going to stay overnight, then fly back to Santa Barbara. Jamison had come with the sole purpose of meeting the O’Brien family, but Haggen… He admitted to himself that the Security Chief’s main reason for coming had surprised him. Philip Haggen wanted to see the town where his great-great uncle Festus Haggen had been a Deputy US Marshal. Of course he also wanted to speak personally with the local police about security.

The plane braked to a stop in front of a single story building with a small knot of people standing inside at the windows watching. Morton couldn’t see them well enough to tell who they were, but he thought it was probably his relatives since Haggen had solved the ground transportation problem by making an inflight call about an hour out to let Morton’s aunt know when they were expecting to land. He stood, while Jamison and Haggen gathered up their carry-on luggage. The plane’s engines wound down to a halt and the copilot exited the cockpit to open the exterior door. A blast of very cool air blew in, chilling the interior of the aircraft. Morton shivered and reached for his jacket. The temperature had to be a good twenty degrees colder than Santa Barbara. At least it hadn’t snowed yet.

The small group disembarked and hurried into the terminal. Morton eyed the waiting group closely. The white-haired elderly couple must be his aunt and uncle, though they matched his memory of his grandparents. The tall red-haired man in the dark suit looked more like he remembered his uncle appearing. The thought crossed his mind that this might be his cousin Don, since he didn‘t recall either of the other two boys having hair that flaming red shade. His aunt stepped forward with a smile. That and the twinkle in her eyes hadn’t changed and Morton found himself responding with a grin of his own. She held out her arms to give him a hug and he enveloped her in a crushing embrace.

Jamison cleared his throat behind him. Morton let his aunt go, but kept an arm around her shoulders. “Uh, Doc,” he temporized, trying to regain his equilibrium, “this is my aunt, Samantha O’Brien.” The tall older gentleman stepped up. “This is my Uncle Earl.” He turned to the red-haired man, who was grinning. Morton looked him up and down, then commented, “You wouldn’t be my cousin Don, would you?”

The man threw back his head and laughed. “It’s good to see you haven’t forgotten everything. Welcome back, Chip.” Morton put out a hand which his cousin shook enthusiastically.

Morton turned to his companions. He indicated Jamison first. “This is Doctor Will Jamison. The fellow beside him is Philip Haggen.” A faint look of surprise crossed Don O’Brien’s face at the name. “Bringing up the rear is Steve Patterson, who goes by Pat.”

“O’Brien, eh? I wonder if that means you’re related to Bobby, Chip?” Haggen asked slyly, recalling his conversation yesterday with Nelson and knowing full well that he wasn’t. Morton rolled his eyes.

“Bobby?” asked Don, curious.

“The second officer on the boat,” explained Morton. “His last name is O’Brien, too.” The explanation brought smiles to his relatives.

“Well,” said his uncle, once introductions had been made, “why don’t we head to the house? It’s just about lunch time.” The thought of food made Morton’s stomach growl loudly enough to be heard by all. The early departure and four hour flight hadn’t allowed him to eat his normal breakfast and there had been no inflight meal to tide him over.

“I’d say it’s past time for us,” quipped Jamison, eliciting laughter all around and a sheepish look from Morton.

“I can see now that your appetite hasn’t changed much since you were here last,” said his cousin with a sideways look and a grin.

Morton sniffed and told him, “Just lead the way to the car.”

“Got a van,” Don told them as he turned to lead the way out. “That way we can all go in one vehicle.”

********

Morton gazed out the window of the van as it pulled up into the driveway. The house wasn’t quite as he remembered it as a child. The color was different for one thing. He seemed to recall the house being painted white, but it was now done in shades of brown and gold. He thoughtfully looked it over again. It seemed bigger too, a full two and a half stories, whereas he’d actually expected it to be smaller. “Uncle Earl,” he began, “what happened to the house? Besides being painted, that is.”

His uncle chuckled. “We outgrew it and added on. You remember your other cousins don’t you?”

As Morton searched his memory, names and faces began to filter back. “Uh, the twins, Abby and Gabby.” They’d been nearly grown the last time he had been there, since they were the same age as his oldest brother. “Then Junior and Sissy. Don. And Mackie. Haggen told me there were two more girls, but,” he looked embarrassed, “I can’t remember what he told me their names were.”

“Hmmm. I forgot that you didn’t know about Jean and Jane. They were born in 1947, so you’ve never met them. Anyway, it was easier to keep the peace when everybody had their own space, so the house wound up with ten bedrooms. Not big ones mind you, but enough to give all the kids a bit of privacy and me and Ma some breathing room. We remodeled again once everybody had moved out, so now it‘s only got six.”

“Speaking of which,” added Samantha, “there’s no need for your friends to stay in a motel tonight. We’ve got more than enough room for everybody. The house seems kinda lonesome without a crowd to liven things up.”

“We don’t want to intrude, Mrs. O’Brien,” said Haggen.

“Nonsense,” she answered, “The house is more than big enough that we won’t be tripping over each other. And it’s Sammy. When you call me Mrs. O’Brien I start looking for Earl’s mother.” She gave Haggen a brilliant smile, but he could see that she would not be persuaded to change her mind. At least now he knew which side of his family Morton got his stubborn streak from.

Haggen laughed and acquiesced. In truth, it made him feel a bit more at ease about Morton being here, because it would give him a chance to get to know these people and assess them for himself. He would need to call the flight crew though and let them know of the change in plans. He also intended to use this as an opportunity to have a long and private talk with Detective Don O’Brien about some of the things that had happened that hadn’t been on the news. It was Haggen’s intention for Morton to not only be secluded in the bosom of his family, but protected by all the resources of the local city police, county sheriff’s department and the Kansas Highway Patrol that he could beg, borrow or steal without attracting the attention of the media. Fortunately, Dodge City didn’t have a TV station, only a local paper, the Dodge City Daily Globe. Still, a newsie was a newsie as far as he was concerned. Which was another good reason for the chartered jet and a departure from LAX rather than Santa Barbara. If the NIMR’s private plane had shown up here, he suspected it would have attracted far too much curiosity. The charter company he’d hired often did work for the Feds and had a reputation for being both discrete and closemouthed. No one would find out from the two pilots who the passengers on the plane had been, or learn that when they left, two of those passengers would be staying. So neither the media or Edith Nelson would be able to find out where they’d gone. Though he wouldn’t have admitted it to Nelson, that was another reason he’d decided to come along on the flight. He sure didn’t want to be within throwing range of Edith when she found out that Morton had departed without so much as a word of warning, let alone a goodbye.

********

Nelson ducked as one of his mother’s teacups narrowly missed his left ear to shatter against the living room wall behind him. “Edith! Sit down!” he bellowed, finally reaching his limit. In answer the saucer that went with the teacup sailed past his other ear to explode above the fireplace mantle. That was the last damn straw. This time he put his full rage into it and roared “Enough!”

Edith was poised to lob the teapot when her brother’s roar stopped her dead in her tracks. The command caught her completely off guard, startling her enough that she fumbled and dropped the would-be missile onto the plush carpet. It bounced away to rest on it’s side under the coffee table. In all her life Harry had under no circumstances ever used that tone on her. In fact, she’d never heard him use it on anyone. Her eyes grew huge at the sight of his thunderous expression. This wasn’t her brother Harry - this was Admiral Harriman Nelson, a stranger to her - an intimidating, furious stranger. She swallowed hard, mesmerized by the raw fury in her brother’s eyes. For the first time in her life she found herself afraid of him.

She promptly burst into tears.

Nelson’s anger wavered for a moment, then with a sigh of exasperation, collapsed. He stood for a moment, chin on his chest, breathing hard, eyes closed as he collected his tattered temper. “Edith,” he said in a calmer tone, “this has got to stop. You are not a child anymore. I will not tolerate temper tantrums. I sent Morton away for his health - which you were not helping.”

“But,” she said, tears trickling down her face, lower lip quivering, “I just need to have somebody.”

“Do you? Then leave my officers alone and go back to Boston; you’ve got friends there. Marry one of them. Both Lee and Chip have made it clear they’re not interested in a relationship with you.” Nelson’s expression held little sympathy.

Her temper flared back up. “Why not? I’m certainly better than that prissy little teacher Lee Crane is shacked up with.” It was this that was the source of her outrage and pain. The woman Crane was dating wasn’t near as beautiful as Edith knew herself to be and certainly didn’t have any money. She truly couldn’t understand why he would pass her up for someone she considered a pathetic little mouse of a woman. Morton wasn’t dating anyone at all and had still rejected her, which was even worse from her viewpoint, even though her interest in him was secondary. “Chip Morton wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if he had one, I’m beginning to think. Or does he like boys?”

The last shot was laced with pure spite. It brought the fire back to Nelson’s eyes. “How dare you! Chip Morton does not deserve to have anybody, least of all you, smearing him out of sheer spite. Our parents taught you better than that - or should have. I should have turned you over my knee years ago and blistered your behind. You’ve become a hateful, spoiled little brat that I’m ashamed to acknowledge as my sister. Mother would spin in her grave if she could see you now.”

Edith’s cheeks flamed. Much of what her brother had just said was true, but she wasn’t about to acknowledge it. She plunged in deeper, lashing out at him. “Oh, you’ll take his side over your sister‘s, is that it? Maybe it’s because you have something going with him and…”

She never got the sentence finished as her brother backhanded her. Edith staggered back and put a hand to her face in shock. She could tell from his expression that Harry was almost as stunned as she was. “Edith,” he began, “I…” She didn’t let him finish. She whirled and fled out the door, tears running down her cheeks.

Behind her, Harriman Nelson sank heavily down in an armchair, appalled at himself. His hands shook as he covered his face, distraught and unsure of what to do to salvage the relationship with his sister.

“Oh, God,” he moaned to the universe at large, “what have I done?”

********

Edith fled to her rental car, shaken to the core. She‘d crossed an unforgivable line with her brother, in a way she knew in her heart he didn’t deserve. The look of pain on his face after he’d hit her had hurt her worse than the blow itself, because she knew she’d deserved what she‘d gotten. In the heat of hurt and anger she’d said things she didn’t really mean and knew weren‘t true, but she didn’t know how to undo the damage. Her pride and stubbornness had led to her downfall. Harry was all that was left of the family, but after this he would likely disown her. She’d have nobody - and she had only herself to blame. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

Finally she lifted her head and wiping away tears, started the car. Pulling out of the driveway, she roared towards the front gate of the Institute, scattering personnel and vehicles as they scrambled to get out of her path. Blinded by her misery, she failed to see Chief Sharkey’s tan Ford Torino pull through the front gate until it was too late to stop. She slammed on the brakes and tried to swerve around the Chief’s car, but lost control and skidded sideways. The driver’s side of her Mustang slammed into the front end of the larger vehicle; Edith’s last conscious recollection before the impact was the look of horror on Sharkey’s face as he realized who she was.

********

Haggen leaned back from the kitchen table and patted his very full stomach contentedly. Jamison had already had to beg off and pass on the strawberry pie that was dessert, but Morton and Don were still eating. The security chief and doctor shared an amused glance. One would never know from the banter around the table that it had been almost thirty years since Morton had seen these people or that Patterson wasn’t even related. Samantha O’Brien had a real knack for drawing people out and making them comfortable. Haggen had found that even he wasn’t entirely immune to her ability, much to his chagrin. On the other hand, he noted that Jamison seemed quite satisfied with the manner in which events were progressing. He was fairly pleased with the situation himself. While Morton’s aunt had been preparing lunch, he and Don had retired to the den and discussed security. The detective had been suitably agreeable to most of Haggen’s requests and had offered a few suggestions of his own.

They had also discussed the gaping hole in Chip’s personnel file concerning his maternal relatives. Don had been flabbergasted to learn that there had been absolutely no mention of Clarissa’s side of Chip’s family anywhere in the files, since he vaguely recalled being interviewed by the FBI and asked questions about his Aunt Clarissa and his cousins back about the time Chip would have been applying to the Academy. They’d not told him who they were investigating, or why, so it was possible, he supposed, that it had to do with something else. Haggen had been forced to agree that it could have been just a case of misplaced files, though privately he wondered if Chip’s father hadn’t outright lied to the investigators. The only question remaining was whether or not Chip had. Haggen didn’t think given the circumstances that it would be a fatal blow to Morton’s career even if that proved to be the case, but it would leave a black mark on his record.

On the personal side, it turned out that Don was something of an amateur historian and had done extensive research on the history of law enforcement in Dodge City. In his office at home he had copies of much of the paperwork from the US Marshall’s office from the mid to late 1800s, along with photocopies of the local newspaper dating back to it’s founding, so he‘d been quite familiar with the name Haggen. It had been something of a pleasant surprise for the detective to meet a member of the Haggen family, particularly one who had an extensive career in law enforcement. Don even had several original tintype photographs that had Festus in them and had assured Philip that he would have copies made and sent to Santa Barbara. He’d refused to hear of taking payment for them.

The phone on the kitchen wall shrilled, breaking into the pleasant atmosphere. Earl answered, but after a moment held out the phone to Doctor Jamison. “It’s for you, Jamie. A Lee Crane…?”

“Ah.” Jamison rose from his seat to take Earl’s place by the wall. “Hello, Lee.” As the one-sided conversation unfolded the others saw the doctor’s smile fade and his face go still. “I’ll be back as fast as we can get there,” were his only words before he hung up. He turned back to the table and took a deep breath. “Philip, Lee needs you and me back at the Institute. There’s been an accident.” He paused, searching for the words to cushion what he had to say. “It’s Edith. She’s in Santa Barbara General with injuries from a car wreck.”

“An accident?” Haggen’s expression asked what his words didn’t.

“Yes. It happened on the Institute grounds. Ah, Edith lost control of her car and skidded sideways into Chief Sharkey’s vehicle at the front gate. The Admiral is pretty upset.” Haggen’s eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline. There was obviously far more to the story than the bare bones that the doctor had just given him.

“Oh, dear,” said Sammy, looking concerned, “she isn’t badly hurt is she?”

Jamison sighed. “She’s got a head injury, along with a broken arm and shoulder.” He turned to Morton and Patterson. “Chip, Lee doesn’t want you to cut your visit short…” Morton started to protest but the doctor raised his hand to silence him. “I agree with Lee on this one. It’s not something that you’re going to be able to help with, so there’s no point in you going back. You need the down time here.” He didn’t add that Crane had told him that Edith’s accident was the consequence of a fight between the admiral and his sister over Morton. The man had enough on his emotional plate without the added burden.

“Well,” said Sammy, reaching out to pat Jamison on the hand, “I’m sorry that you have to leave so suddenly and I hope everything turns out okay. We’ll take good care of Chip and Pat for you.”

The doctor gave her a wan smile. “I know you will, Sammy. I’ll call to let you know what’s going on and keep tabs on these two.” He indicated Morton and Patterson with his thumb. “Guess it’s a good thing we hadn’t unpacked. Philip, you want to call the flight crew while I collect our bags?”

“I’ll drive you to the airport,” volunteered Don. He had a feeling there was more to the ‘accident’ than the doctor was telling and his cop’s instincts had been aroused. He knew that if it concerned his cousin’s safety that they would tell him once away from the house. Haggen nodded as he reached for the telephone.

It took less than fifteen minutes for the two men to gather up their luggage and get loaded. Both shook hands with the O’Brien’s and bid Morton and Patterson farewell, then climbed into the van with Don. Morton stood on the porch and watched as the vehicle disappeared down the street. Now he and Patterson were alone for the first time with just his aunt and uncle. A small shiver of apprehension wormed it’s way into his soul. He remembered how it used to be, but that had been thirty years ago. Another time, another life - for him anyway. A small boy’s faded memories. What was the reality going to be like now that he and Pat were here alone?

Sammy caught her husband’s eye; years of nonverbal communication told him that she wished to be alone with Chip. Earl walked over and slapped Patterson lightly on the back.

“So, Pat, you’re from Nebraska. Never been up in that part of the country. What’s it like?”

Patterson cocked his head to one side and considered his reply. He’d seen the look that passed between the two and had correctly interpreted it. He’d also gotten detailed instructions from Jamison before the foursome had left Santa Barbara, so he knew far more about what the doctor hoped to accomplish than either of the O’Brien’s realized. Jamison had intended to fill Mrs. O’Brien in on the part he wanted Patterson was to play, but the emergency that had called him and Haggen back to Santa Barbara had left the doctor unable to hold a private conversation with her. Patterson smiled calmly at Earl and said quietly, “The part of Nebraska I grew up in was a lot different than this. My grandfather had a farm in the eastern part of the state. Grew corn mostly, some alfalfa and soybeans. Raised a few hogs for sale. The soil is glacial till - very rich.”

“Does sound different from around here. This is mostly winter wheat country. Sounds like you were an outdoors type kid as well.”

Patterson saw the opportunity to allow Earl to gracefully exit the two of them from the company of Mrs. O‘Brien and Morton. “Yeah, I spent a lot of time wandering around and exploring - just me, my horse and my dog.” He shrugged. “But I like seeing how other people live, too. If you don’t mind showing me around, could we look at the house from the outside? I’ve never seen anything quite like this place before, at least not up close. It‘s a lot bigger than the house I grew up in.”

Earl beamed with pleasure. “Built most of it myself, or with my boys help. Come on, let’s grab our jackets and I’ll give you the grand tour.” He led the way back into the house; the sounds of their conversation quickly drifted beyond range as the two headed for the back door. Morton watched them go, then turned a guarded expression on his aunt.

She smiled at him. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen so we can talk while I do the dishes? You can dry, if you like.”

A shadow of a smile crept on his face. “Work for my dinner?” he queried, but his tone wasn’t serious.

His aunt laughed. “Something like that. But you can always go join Pat and Earl on the grand tour if you like.”

He looked down at the floor as he contemplated the offer, then sighed. “I’ll dry.”

Samantha took a deep breath and lifted his chin with one hand so she could look him in the eye. “Chip, you really are free to leave if you’re uncomfortable here. I know it’s been a long time and we’re almost strangers to you now. But we do care, we always did. But we were afraid that if we tried to interfere with your father we’d have only made a bad situation worse.” The faint trembling in his body telegraphed his distress to her. She pulled his head down and kissed him gently on the forehead, just like she used to do. His resistance fled and he enveloped his aunt in a hug, laying his head on her shoulder, eyes closed. She patted him gently on the back, mindful of his still healing wound, and whispered soothing words in his ear as she guided him into the house.

From the corner of the house Earl and Patterson watched the scene unfold. As Sammy and Morton disappeared inside, Earl looked at Patterson with trepidation, not quite sure how the young seaman would take what he was seeing. Patterson looked at him with understanding eyes and said, “Doctor Jamison had a long talk with me before we left about what might happen. That’s one reason they sent me with him instead of somebody else. Mr. Morton knows that whatever happens, whatever I see, it won’t get around the boat as gossip.” Earl’s mouth made a round ‘o’ of astonishment and he looked at the young man beside him in a different light.

“How come you’re only an enlisted man?”

Patterson gave a diffident shrug. “Didn’t have the education or inclination to be an officer. Besides, I have a place and duty - somebody has to look out for the senior staff on the Seaview.” The last was said with a smile. Earl simply shook his head, amazed.

In the kitchen Sammy sat Chip down at the table and pulled a chair up beside his. His breathing was a bit ragged, but other than the occasional tremor, he gave no outward sign of his inner turmoil. She knew that he wasn’t ready to talk yet - right now he simply needed reassurance that he was safe and among people who would neither pressure nor betray him. That she could give in plenty. She rubbed the tense muscles in his back, saying nothing, content to let him work through his feelings and emotions at his own pace. Gradually his breathing settled and he lifted his head to look at her. She gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his shoulder. He reached up and caught her hand in his.

“Thanks.”

“It’s what family is for.” She leaned over to give him a hug and this time got a real smile in return. “Now,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “we need to get on those dishes.” His answer was a theatrical groan. Sammy’s laughter filled the room and a space in Chip Morton’s soul that had been too long empty.

*********

Lee Crane paced outside Edith Nelson’s hospital room in the ICU wing waiting for Chief Sharkey to return from the airport with Will Jamison and Philip Haggen. He’d called the two about five hours earlier in Kansas, just as soon as the doctors had given him and Nelson the details of Edith’s injuries. Haggen had just called about fifteen minutes ago to let him know they’d landed at the Santa Barbara airport, met Sharkey and were coming directly to the hospital. Crane’s relief was almost palpable. He’d never seen Harriman Nelson looking quite as rocky as he had during the drive to the hospital when he’d revealed to the captain the details of the fight that had preceded the accident. When the doctors had told them that Edith was bleeding in her brain and that an emergency operation was necessary, he’d thought Nelson was going to have a heart attack. The admiral’s color had gone so pale that Crane thought he would pass out and collapse - it had concerned the ER physicians enough that they had wanted to admit him as a precaution. He’d adamantly refused, but since he had made it clear he was staying as close to his sister’s side as he could, the doctors had acquiesced, then had quietly directed the nurses to keep an eye on him until Jamison arrived and took charge of him. Right now Nelson was at Edith’s side, holding her hand while he anxiously waited for her to regain consciousness.

A small commotion at the end of the hall drew Crane’s attention. Doctor Jamison stood in the doorway arguing with a nurse, with Haggen and Sharkey peering around him. Crane headed down the hallway to intercede on the doctor’s behalf, but the neurosurgeon in charge of Edith’s treatment had also been attracted to the disturbance.

“What’s this about?” Dr. Luketich demanded. The nurse pointed at Haggen.

“That man has a gun. I’ve called security.” Her lips were pressed in a thin disapproving line.

Luketich rolled his eyes. “Of course he’s got a gun. He’s the security chief for NIMR.” The doctor shook his head in exasperation as the color drained from the woman’s face. “Jamie, she’s new so you’ll have to excuse her, since unlike most of the nurses here she doesn‘t know all of your people by sight.” The dubious look Jamison gave the other doctor indicated that he wasn’t sure whether or not they’d just been insulted, but Luketich had only sincere honesty on his face.

“That’s okay,” said Haggen with a wry smile, heading off any comment by Jamison. “I’d far rather she was overcautious than too lax.” He addressed the nurse directly, “You did exactly the right thing, Miss. I should have checked in with hospital security and let them know I was here.”

“No shit,” rumbled a voice from behind the trio. Haggen turned to see Mike Donnelly, the hospital’s own Chief of Security, coming up behind them, flanked by two of his men. “Philip, you guys are a walking disaster zone. I’m thinking of starting to issue red alerts anytime any of you people so much as darken the door.” His solemn expression was belied by the twinkle in his eyes.

Haggen arched his eyebrows and fired back. “Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black if I ever did hear it.”

Donnelly laughed as he slapped Haggen on the shoulder. “So far everything’s been quiet. Not even the newsies know Miss Nelson’s here yet. I’ve got extra people stationed downstairs to catch the media and keep them out of here when they do finally find out - and you know sooner or later they will.”

Haggen grimaced. “Tell me about it. I swear sometimes some of the bastards have ESP. I‘m amazed they aren‘t camped out in the hall already.”

Jamison shook his head at the duo as he took the other doctor by the arm to head for Edith’s room. “While you two are discussing your business, Doctor Luketich and I will be about ours.” The nurse followed the two doctors, again apologizing to Jamison.

“Sure, Jamie,” said Haggen, waving them on. “Captain.” This last was addressed to Crane, who had now joined the group. The security chief intently looked the captain over - the man appeared exhausted. His face was drawn and he had dark circles under his eyes. He turned back to the CPO. “Chief, take Captain Crane back to his apartment, feed him, make him shower and put him to bed.” He’d have added that Sharkey should call Crane’s girlfriend to come over as well, but he knew that she was with her graduate students on an archeological dig somewhere in the Yucatan.

Crane’s head jerked up in startled indignation. “Mister Haggen.” He was trying for a command snap, but his tiredness betrayed him. Haggen stared back at him, arms crossed in a posture so similar to the one Jamison used with him that Crane found himself internally cringing. He stubbornly refused to give in, even though common sense told him he ought to. The day had been psychologically draining - Nelson had been worried and preoccupied over Edith, so much of the decision making concerning business back at the Institute had fallen on Crane’s shoulders. Even with Angie’s help, it had been a long and tiring seven hours since the accident, especially since his day had started several hours before that. Add in the fourteen hour days he’d been working for the last week and it was obvious that Crane was running on sheer stubbornness.

“Lee.” The voice was that of the Admiral, coming from the door of Edith’s room. Crane pivoted on his heel, his weariness momentarily forgotten, and hurried to Nelson’s side, followed by Haggen, Sharkey and Donnelly.

“Are you okay, sir?” asked Crane, concern coloring his voice. Nelson looked worn and much older than his years.

“As well as can be expected.” He leaned against the door jamb for support. “I think Haggen’s right. You need to go home and get some rest. I can get Jamie to tell you that if you like.”

Crane scowled, but made one last effort. “It’s only 16:30 hours, Admiral.” Realizing that his statement had sounded almost like a petulant whine, he grimaced and changed tactics. “What about you, sir?”

“Jamie’s making arrangements for me to get a bed here.” He smiled wryly. “He’s threatened to stick a needle in my rump if I don’t get some rest. He‘s also muttering about having one with your name on it too.”

Crane flinched in sympathy, then sighed in defeat. “If you insist, sir. Come on, Chief. You get to be my chaperone tonight.” He started down the hall with Sharkey at his heels, but paused before reaching the ICU wing doors. “If there’s any change, call me. And I’ll be back in the morning.” The two hospital security men slipped past him to return to their stations, while their chief remained, waiting patiently for Haggen.

Nelson merely nodded and waved him on, then turned to Haggen. “Did Sharkey fill you in on what happened?”

“Yeah. I swear, Harry, that girl is makin’ you old before your time. I’m tempted to turn her over my knee for this one.”

Nelson shook his head. “That’s something I should have done twenty years ago. It’s a bit late now.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. You gonna be okay?” At Nelson’s nod, Haggen continued. “Chip was doing fine at his aunt’s. We didn’t tell him anything about what happened before the accident.”

“Thanks, Philip. None of this is his fault, but he’d likely blame himself anyway. He doesn’t need the added burden.”

“That’s basically what Jamie said as well and I have to agree. Harry, I’m gonna get with Mike and coordinate security. As soon as Edith’s able to be safely moved we’ll take her back to the Institute Infirmary. Hopefully that’ll be before the media finds out she’s here - but..”

Nelson sighed. “I know - don’t hold my breath. We’ll take it one day at a time, Philip, one day at a time.”

*********

Chip sat huddled in a borrowed coat on the back steps of the house and contemplated the panorama of the night sky spread out before him. Since his aunt and uncle lived about two miles north of the city limit and the back of their house faced north, there was little light pollution to obscure the sky - this being western Kansas there wasn’t much in the way of topography to block the horizon either. The moon wasn’t due to rise for several hours yet so the vista overhead was one of a sea of stars. Only the occasional aircraft or satellite intruded on his meditations.

He heard the screen door open behind him and someone walk across the porch. “Do you mind company, or would you rather be left alone?” His aunt stood at the top of the steps wrapped in a fleece lined coat.

“Don’t mind company,” said Chip, scooting over to make room for her. She settled down beside him and looked up at the sky, wondering what he saw there. For several moments neither spoke. He watched her out of the corner of his eye wondering what had brought her out into the chill night air. If it had been simple concern that he was staying out too long, he figured she would have just asked him if he was ready to come in. Sammy wasn’t the type to beat too much around the bush about anything, so there must be something on her mind.

Finally Sammy cocked her head to one side and looked at him. “You seem to be looking for something.”

Chip started. He hadn’t been aware that his search through his old memories had been quite so obvious. For a fleeting instant his expression was one of being trapped, then his bland mask quickly slammed into place.

Sammy watched with alarm the swift play of emotions on Chip’s face that he’d rapidly shuttered and mentally cursed his father for the emotional abuse she suspected he had been subjected to. She feared she’d pressed too soon into a sensitive area and put him on his guard. “I’m sorry, Chip. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that you were sitting out here, looking at the sky like it had answers to an important question.” She kept her hands in her pockets, sensing that to touch him right now would be the wrong move.

He calmed his breathing and shifted uneasily. Sammy’s remark was awfully close to the truth. The question was, did he trust her enough to reveal all of the events of that horrible day when his mother and sister died? He wrapped himself deeper in the coat as he considered his options.

He spoke. “I was remembering the year Mom and Cassie … died.”

Sammy’s eyes widened in surprise. This was a subject she hadn’t expected him to broach on his on and certainly not this soon. “Do you want to talk about it?” She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it, but for his sake she’d try.

He looked up at the star filled sky while he rubbed a thumb over the rough surface of the shell necklace he’d hidden in his left pocket. At this point he wasn’t sure himself what was entirely real and what was imagined. More importantly, he wasn’t sure if he could explain it in a way that his aunt wouldn’t think him crazy. The more he’d remembered about the summer he’d spent with the Dawimhlar the more he began to wonder about their origins. He vaguely remembered a huge black submarine - theirs - a true submarine, not a Navy 1940’s fleet boat. At least he thought he did. The thing that nagged at him was a picture of himself as a little boy sitting with Scathach in a plush chair in front of windows in the bow as the boat had glided along just below the surface. He remembered the play of light through the water and dolphins playing tag overhead. Something similar had happened aboard Seaview on her maiden voyage and he now realized where that odd feeling of deja vu he’d experienced at the time had come from. That would put Dawimhlar technology decades ahead of humans - at the very least.

He turned his head to look at Sammy. “Not yet. I …I still have some things to work out.” His sad smile and the far away expression in his eyes made her heart ache. She hesitantly reached out a hand and put it on his shoulder. When he didn’t flinch away she gave him a hug. He leaned into it and put his head on her shoulder. She kissed him on the top of his head and gently stroked his hair. They continued to sit with Chip wrapped in his aunt’s embrace, both silent, each lost in introspection as they gazed at the glory of the stars blazing in the vault of the night sky.

*********

Harriman Nelson sat in the hospital cafeteria picking at a breakfast for which he had little appetite but that Jamison had insisted he eat. Edith had regained consciousness during the night, so this morning the doctors were running tests to see if she had suffered any permanent mental or physical impairment. She had still been disoriented with no memory of the events of the day before when they‘d shooed him out of ICU. Neither Jamison nor Luketich could offer any assure on whether she would or wouldn’t eventually regain the lost memories. Nelson wasn’t sure which way he wanted it to go. A part of him wanted to erase what happened, but the rest of him knew that the day had been seared permanently into his soul. Whether or not his sister remembered, he would.

“Admiral.” Nelson looked up to see Lee Crane and Chief Sharkey threading their way between tables. He pushed away the tray. This was as good an excuse as any to ignore the food that he really had no desire to consume. The pair pulled out chairs and sat. Crane eyed Nelson’s plate and smiled grimly.

“Jamie told us he’d sent you down here to eat.”

“Oh, he did, did he? I guess that means you’ve been up to ICU.” Nelson made no move to pull his tray back.

“And been sent packing. They were still running tests.” Crane put his elbows on the table as he rested his chin on his knuckles. Sharkey sat silently, eyes downcast, his hands worrying a napkin, tearing it into tiny strips. Nelson and Crane looked at him and then each other and gave almost simultaneous sighs. Sharkey looked up, startled to find both his captain and admiral scrutinizing him.

“What, sir?” It was the first thing they’d had heard him say since he’d walked in. Nelson gave him a wry smile filled with sympathy.

“Chief, it wasn’t your fault.”

Sharkey ducked his head again. “Everybody keeps telling me that, sir, but I keep thinking that if I’d just been driving something smaller..”

“Then you’d likely be up here in the hospital with her, Francis. That wouldn’t do anybody any good, because then I’d be feeling guilty about you too.” Sharkey’s head jerked up and a horrified expression flitted across his face. He’d been so busy feeling guilty about his part in the accident that he’d overlooked how the admiral must be feeling.

“I’m sorry, Admiral. I just feel bad about being involved is all. I don’t want you to feel bad on my account.” Sharkey was starting to get animated and both Nelson and Crane had to smile. This was the Sharkey they knew.

Nelson turned to Crane. “Not to change the subject, but did Jamie say how much longer the tests were going to be?”

“No,” said Crane, looking thoughtful as he leaned back in his chair. “He just said he’d be down to get us when they were done and had something to tell us. He didn’t give me any indications of how long it would be.”

Nelson sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I guess now it’s a waiting game. Something I was never very good at.”

**********

Somewhere far away a male voice sang, “One day as I grew older, I found I could not hold her. She took on a fine young skipper who soon ran her up on a boulder..” Chip Morton’s eyes flew open as he fought his way to wakefulness from a dream filled with Seaview, a rock that kept appearing out of nowhere and shadowy sub that he could never quite see. He looked wildly around, disoriented, not recognizing the room he was in. The song continued, coming from somewhere outside, but rapidly fading. “Singin’ why, me oh my, is there a better man than I? I hope you find your way back home before you’re lyin’ high and dry, I hope you find your way back home before you die…”

Recognition came after a few heart stopping seconds and he sighed in relief. He was in a guest bedroom in his aunt’s house in Kansas. The music had apparently come from a passing car with a very loud radio. He recognized the song and smiled wryly. It was a favorite of the crew - Gordon Lightfoot’s High and Dry. Especially the verse about the fine young skipper. He didn’t think Crane had figured it out yet, though he suspected the admiral had. Even though the boat described in the lyrics was obviously a sailing vessel, the Seaview’s crew had taken the song as their own after they’d had a run-in with an abandoned minefield. Seaview’s former COB, the late Curley Jones, had been the one who’d discovered the tune.

More sounds filtered up from downstairs, indicating the rest of the house was up and stirring. He looked at the clock on the nightstand and realized with dismay that it was already 10:30. He’d slept through breakfast.

Damn.

His feet hit the floor and he grabbed for his robe just as a knock sounded on the door. “Chip, you okay in there?” The speaker was his cousin Don.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Come on in.” The door opened and Don stepped in. “Why’d you let me sleep so late?” asked Chip, as he fussed with the belt on his robe.

“I did peek in on you earlier. You looked like you needed the rest. Mom said to let you sleep till you woke up on your on.” He paused and studied his cousin carefully. “I thought I heard you groaning in here a bit ago.”

Chip ran his hands through his hair and managed a rueful smile. “Strange dream.”

Don chuckled. “Anything you care to share?”

“It wasn’t anything that made a whole lot of sense. Seaview was in it, along with a rock that she kept bashing into. The rock kept moving around, getting in the way.” He frowned. “There was another boat in it, but I never could get a good look at her.”

“An unknown enemy?” Don had leaned back against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

Chip thought about his feelings from the dream for a moment, then said slowly, “Not an enemy. A long lost friend, perhaps.”

Don’s eyebrows arched. “That’s an odd statement.”

Chip shrugged. “It was an odd dream.” Their conversation was interrupted by the growl of Chip’s stomach. “I think I need to feed me,” he said as his cousin snickered into his hand.

“Mom said to let you know she’d fix you something when you got ready to eat.” Don had managed to stifle his laughter, but was still wearing a broad grin.

Chip shook his head. “It’s too late for breakfast and I hate to see her go to the effort just for me. Why don’t I just go out to eat somewhere and save her the trouble?”

“Cause she’d skin us both if you did. Besides, Dad sleeps late on Saturday too. He hasn’t eaten yet either. Mom and your man Patterson are the only ones that have. They got up before daylight and fixed some oatmeal. Pat said he never did eat a big breakfast.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, tell her I‘ll be down as soon as I‘ve showered and dressed.” He shook his head and added, “I forgot to tell Aunt Sammy about Pat’s eating habits. He doesn’t eat a lot of red meat or pork. But I guess he’s probably told her himself by now.”

“You got it.” Don turned and exited towards the stairs. Chip gathered up a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt and headed for the bathroom at the other end of the hallway.

The smell of bacon and eggs had permeated the house by the time Chip had finished dressing and started down the stairs. He followed the wonderful aroma into the kitchen and found that his aunt had also made fresh buttermilk biscuits and white gravy. Don and his Uncle Earl were both sitting at the kitchen table with plates piled high - they’d already started without him. Pat was helping his Aunt Sammy fetch and carry, despite the cast he still sported on his left wrist.

“Hey, save some for me!” Chip demanded, grabbing a chair with one hand and a plate with the other. The other two passed him the platters while Pat poured a big glass of orange juice and set it down by his plate. For some time there was no conversation, only the sounds of breakfast being devoured. Pat and Sammy leaned back against the counter and watched with amusement.

After nearly fifteen minutes of nonstop eating Chip sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh that brought a chuckle from his cousin. “Don’t they feed you on that sub of yours?”

“On the boat, yeah. We have a really good head cook and staff. But ashore - which is where I’ve been for almost three weeks now, that’s a different story.” He shuddered theatrically. “The food at the Institute cafeteria isn’t too bad, but hospital food at Santa Barbara General leaves a lot to be desired.” He looked over at Pat and grinned. “Don’t you agree, Pat?”

Pat looked up from the sink where he was drying dishes. “If you say so, Mr. Morton. I‘ve never been a guest there myself, so I haven‘t had to eat the food.” Chip knew that the bland look on Pat’s face often hid a quirky sense of humor - and he suspected that he’d just been the object of some obscure joke. Or maybe not. With Pat it was sometimes hard to tell, so he just shook his head and rolled his eyes. The interplay between the two brought laughter from the rest of Chip’s family. Don slapped Chip on the arm.

“What say you and me go for a drive in a bit and I’ll show you around. The old town’s changed since the last time you were here.”

“If Aunt Sammy doesn’t have anything she needs us to do around here, sure.” He turned an eye to Pat. “What about you?”

The seaman shrugged. “Me and Mrs. O’Brien were going to go over some recipes. You go on without me, sir.”

Chip looked at him and arched his eyebrows, “Recipes?”

“Yeah. We got to talking about food this morning and she said she wanted to try out some of the things that I like.”

Sammy joined in the conversation. “Yes, Chip. It seems unfair to make Pat go hungry just because he eats differently than we do, so I thought we’d go over some of his favorite foods. They actually sound pretty good.”

Having eaten some of the recipes on the boat, Chip had to agree. “Cookie’s made some of them a permanent part of Seaview’s menu. Most of the crew likes them. Even me.”

“But you’re the kid who would eat almost anything - even your vegetables,” commented Don.

“So? Just because I have healthier eating habits than you do…” teased Chip, giving his cousin a sideways look.

Sammy laughed at both of them. “Out, you two. I’ve got better things to do than listen to the pair of you squabble.” They hastily pushed back their chairs and escaped to the living room, grinning at each other.

“Come on, grab your coat and let’s get out of here before somebody thinks of something they need us to do.” Don had already snatched his own jacket off the coat-rack and was headed for the front door. Chip paused uncertainly for a second, as the little worm of fear and paranoia suddenly wriggled in his gut. He sucked in a breath and firmly stomped on the feelings, then followed his cousin out the door.

Don had already settled in the front seat of his car and started the engine when Chip came down the steps. He stopped and blinked in surprise when he realized what Don was driving. This wasn’t Don’s personal vehicle - it was his unmarked police car. Chip hesitantly went around to the passenger’s side and got in.

“Are you allowed to do this?” he asked his cousin, looking worried.

“Do what?”

“Take civilians just riding around in your car.”

Don looked over at him, his earlier humor replaced by seriousness. “Ordinarily no. But your friend Haggen had a talk with both the Chief and the Sheriff, since I’m also a reserve deputy, so the department is making an exception in your case. It would be very embarrassing to have you survive that madman Smith and then fall victim to some nut case who wants to make a name for himself by finishing the job.”

“The letters.” Chip’s expression turned haunted.

“The letters.” Don’s look was grim. “The world has some very demented people in it. Something I think you know all too well.” Haggen had brought copies of several of the threatening letters that Chip and Pat had received after the death of Smith. Despite his years as a cop, Don had been appalled at the brutal callousness in some of them. The ones that had Haggen and the Feds worried had all apparently come from the same individual. They had no idea who the person was, but he seemed to know a great deal about Chip Morton. Haggen was convinced that they were coming from someone Chip was acquainted with, possibly a personal enemy of Admiral Nelson. Whether or not the writer intended to follow through on the threats no one knew, but no one was willing to take the chance that he would.

Chip sighed, his good mood vanished. Lately it seemed whenever he was getting his life put back together, fate would throw him another curve ball.

The car pulled out of the driveway and headed east on Horseshoe Road. A half mile down they came to the intersection with 110 Road that led south towards town. Chip stared out the window at the passing fields of winter wheat, lost in thought. Don cleared his throat to break the silence.

“Chip, I’ve been thinking. Right now nobody knows who you are except me, Chief Carlson, Sheriff Atkinson and the shift supervisors. I’d like you to meet a few other officers, like my partner Ben Hanks and the deputies who normally patrol the area around Mom and Dad’s place. I think they ought to be brought in to the loop, because they’re the ones most likely to be responding if there should be a problem. I really believe it would be a good idea if they knew who you and Pat are.”

Chip turned to study the earnest expression on his cousin’s face. “Did Haggen tell you something that makes you think there’s going to be trouble?”

Don shook his head. “No. But I’d rather be prepared and not have anything happen than to pretend it can’t and go along trusting to luck.”

“Now you sound like me. Paranoid.” Chip gave his cousin a wry smile. At Don’s quizzical expression he continued. “I’m the executive officer on the Seaview, Don. She’s more than just a research vessel.” He sighed. “We have to be prepared for literally anything. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit we’ve seen and done in just two and a half years - and that’s with the boat laid up for six months for a refit after being sunk.”

“Sunk!” Don’s eyes widened. “How the hell did that happen?”

“An abandoned minefield. I wasn’t aboard at the time, thankfully, but the rescue was a bit dicey. We lost some good men.”

Don whistled. “That didn’t make the news, at least not around here.”

“It wasn’t widely advertised. The government didn’t want anybody coming in and trying to claim salvage on the boat. Not to mention the fact that it was one of our leftover minefields.”

Don’s forehead furrowed. “That musta caused a few red faces.” He paused for a moment. “Wait a minute. Why would the government not want anybody else to salvage the sub? She belongs to Nelson, doesn’t she? A private craft?”

“Nelson did build Seaview with a lot of his own money, but even he isn’t wealthy enough to have done it on his own. She’s civilian only in a technical sense - we’re not in the Navy, but the idea that he can do whatever he wants with her is pure fiction. The whole crew is in the Naval Reserve and we can be called to active duty at a moment’s notice. Otherwise we wouldn’t be part of the Failsafe system.”

“Failsafe? You mean the damned thing’s got nuclear missiles? Isn’t this classified information then?”

“Don, if you hadn’t passed a security check, I wouldn’t be here now. Besides, who are you gonna tell? The People’s Republic? The Soviets?” Chip snorted. “Most of it they already know. The press? I think you like them about as much as I do. Some of them already suspect the boat’s armed, but they can’t prove it. It’s not like defense is the only thing we ever do - we really do engage in research at every opportunity. That’s our primary mission. It was Seaview’s auxiliary craft Sojourner that discovered hydrothermal vents in the ocean floor. A whole ecosystem that doesn’t depend on sunlight. Species that nobody even dreamed existed. Mapping the seafloor. Marine mammal censuses. Basic research into life cycles of all kinds of commercially important fish. Stuff nobody ever did before because they didn’t have a platform to do it from.”

“So why the weapons? Sounds like you’ve got enough to do without adding defense duties to the mix.”

Chip was silent for a moment as he organized his thoughts. Then he spoke with serious earnestness. “Because there are those in the world who don’t want the research done. They are making enormous profits from the rape of our planet’s resources. Especially in some of the eastern bloc nations. And in this country. They’ll do anything to prevent knowledge of the damage they are doing from becoming public. That’s what happened to the research vessel Ocean Dancer back in sixty-seven off the coast of Tahiti. It wasn’t an accident at sea like some governments have tried to pass it off as.” He stared out through the windshield, remembering, then continued softly. “I’ve seen the wreckage with my own eyes. That ship was torpedoed. The science staff and crew never had a chance.” He looked back over at Don. “Nelson didn’t originally plan on arming Seaview, but after that incident he felt he’d better give her the capacity to defend herself.”

“But nuclear missiles?”

“A compromise for some of the funding. Only part of them have actual nuclear warheads - about half the missiles are experimental systems with dummy loads. Weapons research where we do the field testing. Some missiles are for upper atmospheric research - joint projects with NASA or NOAA. Of course just exactly what the mix consists of is highly classified.” He sighed. “I’d be happy myself if we could have done without the missiles. So would the Admiral.”

“So you aren’t really military, but you’re not truly civilians either. That’s a tough line to walk.”

“Oh, I don‘t know. In some ways we’re a lot like the military pilots who become astronauts for NASA. They’re in a situation not all that different from us. Exploring in a civilian capacity, but still in the military.”

“Except they aren’t hauling nuclear weapons around in their spacecraft to defend themselves from aliens.” The statement was meant to be sarcastic, but Chip’s reply stunned him.

“The government figures that a crew of two or three is expendable. Any species that has the ability to get here from another star system is far enough advanced that anything we’ve got isn’t going to give them much of a problem.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “At least the people with any sense know that. There are a few hardheaded idiots in the military who think we ought to shoot first at any ship that enters our atmosphere.” The peculiar expression on that flitted across Chip’s face as he said the last caused Don to pull the car off onto the side of the road and look him squarely in the eye.

“What happened?”

“What?” Chip refused to meet Don’s eyes.

“Chip,” said Don impatiently, “the look on your face just now was one of intense distaste. So you’ve got somebody very definite in mind.” Don cocked his head to one side and added, “I’d be willing to bet there’s a specific incident to go with it. What’d this fool do? Nearly start a war with the Russians?”

“It wasn’t the Russians.” Chip’s tone had gone flat and his expression guarded. The hair on the back of Don’s neck began to rise.

“Care to tell me about it?” Part of Don wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, but the investigator in him smelled a mystery. Chip shook his head.

“That one I really can’t tell you about.” Chip’s blue eyes had taken on a distant look.

“So who’s the idiot?” At Chip’s baffled stare he added, “So I’ll know who to bust if he ever comes to Dodge City.”

For a moment Chip looked nonplused, but then a crooked smile crept onto his face. “Admiral Walter Tobin. Also known as ‘Trigger-happy’ Tobin.”

“Trigger-happy, huh? Sounds like a real throwback.” Don put the car back into gear and pulled back out into traffic. They’d gotten inside the city limits now and were just passing the local community college. “How’d somebody like that make admiral?”

“Dumb luck and connections. The way he talks you’d think he was a veteran of every battle the Navy’s ever fought, but he’s never actually been in combat.”

“Christ,” said Don, rolling his eyes, “one of those.”

“I’m afraid so,” agreed Chip.

The two settled back into silence, but this time the atmosphere was thoughtful rather than brooding. Don occasionally pointed out landmarks to Chip as they wove though the city streets headed for the police station. Given that Dodge City was not a large town, it took less than fifteen minutes for them to arrive. They pulled up into the parking lot and Don killed the engine. “You ready?”

“I guess.”

They exited the car and walked to the back door of the building. Just before he opened the door Don quietly asked, “Were they really from another planet?” Chip turned to look at him and gave him a wry smile.

“That’s classified way above either one of our pay grades.”

“Which means yes, because if there wasn’t something there, it wouldn’t have to be a secret. And you would have just told me no.” Chip laughed at his cousin’s logic, but in the back of his mind had to admit that he was right. Sometimes a non-answer said volumes.

Don led the way to his office inside, outwardly calm, but a part of his mind churned. His three kids loved science fiction - they’d watched My Favorite Martian, Star Trek, Lost in Space, Time Tunnel, Twilight Zone and Outer Limits. Their bookshelves were lined with volumes by authors like Heinlein, Clarke, Bradbury, Asimov and Schmitz. His own preferences ran to westerns, though he‘d frequently watched science fiction with his kids so he could at least speak the same language they did. And he had to admit, he had rather liked My Favorite Martian. Too bad the Viking missions had found a cold, dead world. But now his cousin had apparently encountered the real thing, not the product of some writer‘s imagination. Part of him didn’t want to believe it, yet some part of him had always wondered. But now that he had been confronted with the real possibility of other inhabited worlds and alien civilizations, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the knowledge. The world didn’t seem quite the same anymore and he wasn‘t sure what to make of the change.

Don was still abstracted when they walked into the office he shared with his partner Ben. His partner was buried to his elbows in paperwork, looking harried, tie askew, jacket hung over the back of his chair. The ashtray was piled to the brim with cigarette butts and the trashcan had overflowed onto the floor with wadded papers. Ben’s short dark hair stood out all over his head like exclamation points from where he’d run his hands through it during fits of exasperation.

Don stopped dead in his tracks and stared. Normally his partner was cool and immaculate. “What the hell?” were the first words out of his mouth. All thoughts of aliens fled.

Ben looked up with a distracted expression. “I thought you were off today.”

“I wanted to bring my cousin in to meet you and then take him over by the sheriff’s and meet the deputies that patrol the area out around Mom’s.” He waved a hand at the stack of reports on Ben’s desk. “What’s all this?”

“We’ve had a multiple shooting and homicide over at White’s Moving and Storage. Fellow they fired yesterday walked with in a shotgun this morning just after they opened and started shooting the employees and customers. Wounded five, killed three. Got back in his car and drove over to the mall and opened fire on customers in the parking lot. Wounded four people before an off duty Highway Patrolman shot back and killed him. When the sheriff sent a unit out to his place they found his wife, kids and grandkids all dead. It’s been a madhouse around here ever since.”

“Shit, Ben, why didn’t you call me?” Instead of answering, Ben cut his eyes towards Chip, who was standing in the doorway wide-eyed and pale. Dismay filled Don’s expression. “Ah, well, do you need me to stay?”

Ben shook his head. “Sheriff’s got the lead on this one since all the fatalities were outside the city limit. At least for now. The Highway Patrol will probably wind up with it since one of their officers was involved, with shots fired. Anyway, the perp got his, so now it’s just trying to put the pieces together and find out why.”

“I guess today probably wouldn’t be a good day to go over to the sheriff’s office then.” Don glanced covertly at Chip, who was starting to get a strange, glassy expression in his eyes. He needed out - now. Ben could see it too and simply pointed to the door with his thumb and mouthed the word ‘Go’.

Don took Chip by the arm and steered him back out the door and down the hallway to the exit. Somehow they made it back to the car, but once seated inside Chip put his forehead against the dash and groaned. Don placed a hand on his shoulder; he could feel Chip quivering with barely suppressed emotion. “Chip, do you want to go back to the house? Talk to Mom? Go get drunk?” He rubbed his cousin’s shoulder in an effort to comfort him. “Talk to me, man. I can’t read your mind.”

“Don’t want to go back to the house,” came the hoarse answer. To Don’s relief Chip appeared to still be coherent.

“Okay. We can just sit here if you like.” Actually Don would rather not, since they were starting to attract some attention from his fellow officers and it would only be a matter of time before someone came over to see what was going on. There were a couple of the uniformed officers whom he would describe as busybodies - and he strongly suspected that they were the source of frequent leaks to the media. He certainly didn’t need any of them snooping around now.

“Can we go down on the river?” Chip still hadn’t raised his head, but the tremors in his body seemed to be tapering off.

“I guess so. Is there any particular reason for going there?” Don wasn’t sure what Chip wanted to do. If he wanted to go for a swim then Don was going to haul his butt straight to the hospital.

“I just want to listen to the water. And walk. It…it always helps me deal with ..things.” That sounded reasonable enough. Whatever it took to get Chip through this, that didn’t endanger him or anyone else, Don was prepared to try.

“Then to the river it is,” said Don as he started the car and shifted into gear. Once out of the parking lot headed south, he gave some thought to just where on the river he wanted to go. He decided not to drive to the closet point, just across the railroad yard on the other side of Business US 50. That particular area was a hangout for transients who were riding the rails - not a very safe place for someone in his cousin‘s state, even though not too many were around this time of year. There was a fishing and boating access off of US 50, a couple of miles west of town. That was a good place, with easy access to the bank. It was a popular fishing spot during the summer, but was largely deserted this time of year except by the hardiest of anglers. He’d best let someone know where they were going though.

“Chip.” He got a sigh and a mumbled ‘What’ for an answer. “I’m going to stop at a gas station before we get out of town and call Mom, let her know where we’re going.” And see if she thought going was a wise idea or not. He was also going to call his partner and the sheriff’s department dispatcher, but Chip didn’t have to know that.

Chip lifted his head and looked at his cousin. “I guess that would be wise.” He pushed himself upright for a moment to look around, then leaned back in the seat and put his head against the window glass. The haunted look in his eyes tore at Don’s soul and he could have kicked himself for not calling in before taking Chip to the station. He offered a mental curse to the gods of perversity that had chosen this day and place for such a tragedy.

The gas station was relatively deserted as Don pulled in next to the building and got out to use the pay phone. The clerk poked his head out the door. Don had met the man several months before while investigating a series of armed robberies - this convenience store had been one of the places hit. “Hey, Detective,” the man called. “Are you on that big murder case?” It was obvious the man was looking for juicy details. It was with relief that Don was able to tell him that he wasn’t involved in the investigation. Disappointed, the man disappeared back into his store. Don spared a quick look back at the car to see how Chip was doing, then stepped up to the phone. He called his mother first.

“Mom, it’s Don.” He sighed, wondering how to explain what had happened.

“Don,” asked Sammy, “is Chip alright?” His tone combined with the very fact that he’d called told her that something was wrong.

Honesty was the best policy when dealing with his mom, so Don took a deep breath and plunged in. “Mom, I took him down to the station to meet Ben and we walked in on the aftermath of a spree killing. Guy killed his wife, kids, grandkids, then went down and shot a bunch of people where he’d just been fired from. Then he went over to the mall and shot some more before being killed by an off-duty Highway Patrolman. I should of called Ben before I went in. I’m sorry, Mom.” He heard her sigh.

“What kind of shape is he in?”

“Well, he didn’t break down completely at the station, but he looks like a lost soul. He’s still talking though. He said he wants to go down on the river and walk. Do you think I should let him?”

Sammy thought about it for a moment. With a lot of people a walk down the river bank would be an invitation to suicide, but Chip had always turned to the water for solace, even before the loss of his mother and sister.

“I think he’ll be okay, Don, but stay with him. Where are you going to be?”

“I thought I’d go out to the boat access off US 50 west of town.”

“Be a good place. But find a way to call if you’re going to be gone more than a couple of hours.”

“I’m going to call the sheriff’s dispatch next and let them know where we’re gonna be, so they can cruise by every so often and check on us. And I’m gonna call Ben.”

“Good. Your Uncle Cliff and Aunt Janice are due in in a little bit. I’m going to put my head together with him and see what the best course might be from here. If Chip wants to just walk and think that’s fine, but if he wants to talk to you, just listen.”

“I will, Mom. I’ll see you later.” He sighed in relief. It could have been much worse. He placed his calls to Ben and then Dispatch - his conversations with them were short and to the point. Hanging up from the final call with another sigh, Don walked back to the car and got in. Chip hadn’t moved; he was still staring out the window with a lost look.

“Okay, Cousin, next stop is the river.” Chip only nodded.

It took only moments to reach their destination. Don scanned the area, noting that there were only two vehicles in the parking area. Both were pickups with empty boat trailers, so the occupants weren’t going to be roaming the bank. That was a relief. He parked at the end closest to the water. Don got out quickly and hurried around to the passenger side of the car. Chip stood, swaying slightly, a bit unsteady on his feet. He’d left his jacket unzipped and now it flapped in the breeze. Don clucked at him and zipped it closed. He reached into one of the pockets and found a knit cap that he put on Chip’s head, pulling it down over his ears. Searching through the other pocket produced a pair of lined gloves. He handed them to Chip.

“Put these on.” Chip gave him the barest hint of a smile, but complied. In the meantime Don had found his own cap and gloves and was putting them on. Once both were adequately bundled up against the brisk wind blowing down the river Don led the way to the river bank. Here in this spot the sandy bank was fairly wide and lined with cottonwoods and willows. The river itself was split into several small, shallow meandering channels. The water wasn’t very deep - this far upstream the Arkansas River wasn’t navigable by anything much bigger than a bass boat. It was deep enough to drown in, however, and this time of year chilly enough to produce hypothermia fairly quickly. Don resolved to keep a very close eye on Chip.

That proved to be easier than he’d expected. Chip set a slow pace, walking upstream along the sandy shoreline, stopping frequently to examine flotsam tossed up by the river. Don had never quite realized what sorts of things one could find. The driftwood, of course, but chunks of glass worn smooth, odd looking stripped stones carried down from the Rockies, even the odd fossil or two. Plus all the outright garbage that wound up in the river. They’d been walking for nearly thirty minutes and covered perhaps half a mile when Chip found a big cottonwood log that formed a natural windbreak. He sank down beside it and put his hands in his pockets. Staring out at the brown muddy water flowing sluggishly by, he huddled into his jacket as he leaned against the log, knees pulled up against his chest. Don was starting to feel the bite of the wind as well, but wanted something a bit warmer than the dubious shelter of a fallen tree. There was plenty of driftwood in the immediate area, so he quickly gathered a pile of small chunks and sticks and built a small fire in the lee of the log. He squatted down on his heels to get close to the blaze and soak up the welcome heat. The warmth soon drew Chip close as well. He joined Don in staring into the dancing flames.

“It was a rainy day in late September,” said Chip, breaking his silence. His tone was flat, distant. Don lifted his gaze from the fire. “Cassie and I should have been at school, first grade, but Smith hadn’t let Mom enroll us. Course I didn’t know that at the time.” Chip paused, a look of anguish on his face as he searched for the words to describe the events that had occurred that terrible day so long ago. “I’m sure it was because he was afraid that Cassie would tell somebody what he was doing. Mom was working, but something had happened and she came home early. Smith was in the bedroom with … Cassie.” Here Chip stopped and covered his eyes for a moment. When he lowered his hands Don could see the unshed tears pooling in his eyes. He took a deep breath and continued. “He always locked me out of the bedroom when he was doing anything to Cassie. But that day, when Mom came in early and asked me where everybody was. I told her he was in the bedroom playing games with Cassie. I told her I didn’t like his games and that he’d locked me out. She got a real funny look and went and got a hairpin and picked the lock. When she opened the door she caught him red-handed molesting Cassie. She went ballistic, started screaming and cussing him. Cassie started crying that he’d hurt her. That’s when Mom screamed that she was going to the police. Smith grabbed a knife and went after her. I tried to stop him but he threw me into a wall. He kept stabbing her. There was blood everywhere, but she got a lamp and smashed it over his head and stunned him for a few seconds. She was trying to get to the phone, but he got there first and ripped it out of the wall. That’s when he killed her. Knocked her down and stabbed her though the heart. Cassie ran up and started kicking him in the leg and he just snatched her up by the hair of her head and cut her throat.” At this point the tears were flowed freely down Chip’s cheeks. “By then I’d managed to get back up. I was so scared. He threw Cassie’s body across the room and then came after me.” Chip closed his eyes for a moment as he fought to keep from breaking down.

Don sat stock still trying to keep the utter astonishment off his face. The police report he’d read had assumed that Chip was in another room when the attacks occurred and that was how he had managed to escape. No one had dreamed he really had been in the room and actually seen the deaths of his mother and sister. So how the hell had he gotten out?

Chip took another deep breath and wiped his eyes with the back of his glove. “I’d have never made it out alive if it hadn’t been for Scathach.” He turned a rueful smile to Don. “I’ve never been quite sure just where she and her people were from. I can tell you that they weren’t human. When the cops in Searsport, Maine wrote their report, they left everything I’d told them about Scathach and the Dawimhlar out. Probably just as well. I’d have probably been considered crazy if anybody later on had found out about it. Back then people sure didn’t believe in nonhuman sentients. Anyway, before Smith could grab me again, Scathach smashed the back door down. Roared at me to run to Officer Danbury’s house. He was a cop that lived there in the neighborhood. Then she jumped on Smith - bit him - took a hell of a chunk out of his left arm. He was swinging and slashing at her with the knife. Caught her across the face. But I did what she told me and ran for the neighbor’s house. When the cop got back over to my house Smith was gone and so was Scathach. There wasn’t anything they could do for my sister and Mom. So I wound up back with my father.” Chip dropped his head and stared into the fire. “He acted like my mother and sister had never existed. Put away all their pictures. Wouldn’t talk about them or what happened. Hank was the only one who would talk to me. If it hadn’t been for him and his wife more or less adopting me, I think I’d have gone mad.” He let out a long sigh. “As far as I was concerned, my dad died right along with Mom and Cassie.”

By now Don’s mouth was hanging open. When he finally found his tongue he blurted, “But how did you meet aliens in the first place?”

Chip shrugged as he picked up a stick and poked at the fire. “I’m not sure if they were aliens or not, Don. I always thought they were Selkies, though they weren’t much like the legends and called themselves Dawimhlar. Told me it meant Sea People. And I never saw a spaceship. Anyway, I was running from Smith just a couple of weeks after we’d moved to Searsport. I’d found an old dock down along the shore. It was fairly rocky and Smith wouldn’t come down into the rocks after me. He’d been drinking one day and started cussing me and throwing things so I took off. Scathach was holed up under the pier herself. She befriended me. I spent a lot of that summer tagging along with her and her people. They taught me how to swim, sail a small boat, fish, even the rudiments of navigation.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “They did have one hell of a submarine though. Way ahead of anything we had at the time.”

“Selkies? Then they weren’t the same ones where Tobin was involved?” Don was having trouble grasping the fact that Chip had possibly encountered an intelligent nonhuman race as a child, then encountered a second alien race as an adult.

Chip shook his head. “No, that was an entirely different species. The technology was different too.”

“So what were they doing here?” Visions of invaders loomed in Don’s head.

“The starship, where Tobin wanted to shoot first and then ask questions, had been damaged in a collision with a meteor. All that pilot wanted was to get the hell out of here. The Admiral and Captain Crane helped him do just that. The Dawimhlar…” Chip shrugged, “were just watching.”

“Watching? Watching what?”

“Everything, I guess.” Chip looked up to see the unsettled expression on Don’s face and correctly interpreted it. “I doubt that they had any designs on us. They’re marine mammals for one thing. Land based living isn’t their preference. Besides, if they’d wanted to invade they could have done it then. Their technology was already advanced enough that they could have beaten us.” He looked back down at the fire as he thought about his friends. “If they really are the source of the Selkie legends, then they’ve been around for a very long time, Don. I think that they were - and are - just keeping a wary eye on us. Humanity doesn’t have a real good track record on interspecies relations you know.” A bit of wryness had crept into his voice.

“Are?” Don’s eyebrows threatened to shoot off his forehead.

Chip looked over at his cousin and said softly, “It was Scathach that tossed the hornets into the cab of Smith’s truck. Pat and I both saw her. So they’re still around.”

“What?!” His yelp echoed up and down the river, causing the occupants of a fishing boat anchored upstream from them to turn and stare. He lowered his voice and demanded, “How do you know it was this Scathach? And that wasn’t in the briefing that Haggen gave me.”

“Haggen doesn’t know. And before you jump down my throat, when the police interviewed me I thought I’d hallucinated it, so I just didn‘t mention it. I didn’t know Pat had seen her too. I might add that nobody else who was there saw her. Not the cops, not the Admiral, not the media. I didn’t realize until later that it really was her. I didn’t want to wind up in a padded room - or get kicked out of the Navy.” He had begun to speak with some heat in his voice. “People like Tobin would consider me a security threat just because I tagged along one summer with some not-human people who may or may not have been from this planet. I was six years old, for crying out loud! And my mother was living with a serial killer!” Chip’s eyes had begun to flash a dangerous shade of icy blue.

“So what clued you in later?” Don was trying hard not to shift into cop mode and wasn‘t entirely succeeding.

In answer Chip reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small shell strung on an odd looking braided cord of some kind. “Faileas, one of the other Dawimhlar, gave me this that summer. I left it with them because Smith liked to destroy my personal belongings when my mother wasn’t around and then tell her I did it myself. I found it, along with a toy fire engine that I’d left with them that summer, in the seat of my car after I got out of the hospital.”

The furious expression that had been building on Don’s face vanished. “Are you sure it was them that left it?”

“No one else even knew they had anything of mine. I certainly never told anyone when I was a kid. My father nearly beat me half to death the one time I tried to talk to him about them, so I kept my mouth shut. The only person who ever even heard me mention their existence is Lee and he didn’t know about the toy engine or the necklace.” Chip’s anger had collapsed and he seemed to shrink back into himself.

“So now what?” asked Don. He had mixed feelings that Chip hadn’t leveled with the police back in California, but he could understand why his cousin hadn’t. He wasn’t sure that if he’d encountered an alien that he’d feel comfortable telling even the officers that he worked with. Some of them would flatly refuse to believe it.

Chip shrugged. “I guess I’ll tell Lee. Maybe the Admiral. Probably Haggen. Then it’s up to them. Knowing the Admiral, he’ll probably want to try and find them before he makes any final decision. Talk to them. It’s something more than a police matter, Don. This is about contact with a nonhuman race that most likely has vastly superior technology. We certainly don’t want to piss them off! We screw this up and it could have serious, world altering repercussions. Regardless of where they’re from. Like I said before - way above our pay grade, Cousin.”

And that’s exactly what it was, Don realized. Something in the realm of diplomats, politicians and scientists, not the purview of a small town cop. He shivered with the realization of the implications of Chip’s revelations and found his sense of the structure of the universe and his place in it was being twisted into new shapes that he wasn’t sure he liked. This was something he was going to have to reflect long and hard on.

The fire was starting to die down. Don poked halfheartedly at it, debating whether or not to gather some more wood and build it back up. He heard Chip sigh tiredly.

“Don, I think I’d like to go back to the house now. I think I need to lay down and rest.”

“Are you sure?” He did notice that Chip was looking a bit paler than normal. Chip nodded. “Okay. Think you can make it back to the car okay?”

“I think so.” Chip got to his feet and brushed the sand off his pants as Don kicked sand over the fire to smother it. Once he had it sufficiently buried to suit him the two men set out at an easy pace back to the car. Don stayed close by, not quite touching his cousin, but close enough to catch him should his strength give out. It was becoming increasingly obvious to Don that Chip had pushed himself past his limits and was now paying the price. It had after all, been less than three weeks ago that Chip had been shot in the back and just over two weeks since the encounter with Smith. He still wasn’t fully recovered and wouldn’t be for several weeks yet.

It took them nearly fifteen minutes to return to the parking area. A Ford county sheriff’s cruiser was parked beside Don’s unmarked car. The deputy was sitting behind the wheel of his car sipping coffee from the cap of his thermos and munching on a sandwich, so it obviously wasn’t an emergency that had brought him here. As Don moved closer he recognized the officer and wondered at his presence here. Alan Donaldson normally patrolled the district around his mother’s house on the night shift. Don guided Chip to the front passenger’s side of his car and helped him in as Deputy Donaldson got out and ambled around to greet them.

“You’re either out late or up early,” said Don as he turned to face the deputy. The man yawned sleepily.

“Up early. With the business this morning, they called me in a half shift early. Sheriff Atkinson told me I needed to talk to you before I went on patrol.” Donaldson turned a look in the direction of Don’s car. Chip was huddled against the door, head against the glass. He nodded in Chip’s direction. “I don’t recognize the fella in your car. You gonna take him in to the station or over to the hospital?” The man didn’t really look intoxicated, but he did look ill.

“Actually, I’m going to take him over to my Mom’s house.” At Donaldson’s startled expression, Don slyly added, “This is my first cousin, Lt. Commander Chip Morton.”

“Cousin?” Donaldson was puzzled for a moment, because he didn’t recognize the man as one of Don’s kin, but then the light dawned. They’d all sat around the break room at the sheriff’s department and talked about the serial killer Smith and Don’s aunt Clarissa when the news about events in California had made the national news. This must be her son, who’d escaped the killer not once but twice. So what was he doing here? Donaldson knew that the man hadn’t seen any of his family here in nearly thirty years. “The one from California?”

Don nodded and then added, “Can you follow me back to the house? I need to talk to you.”

“Sure,” said Donaldson, nodding as he headed back to his car. Both climbed behind the wheels of their respective vehicles and pulled out.

It took them less than twenty minutes to pull up into the driveway at the O’Brien place. The entire family along with Pat came out the door when they saw the police cruiser pull up behind Don. Pat and Sammy practically bounded off the porch; they were the first to reach the car. Their looks of apprehension turned to relief when Chip opened the door to get out. His exhausted appearance turned their relief into concern, especially when Pat had to help him out of the car and up the steps. Doctor O’Brien and Earl followed them in while Sammy lingered to get in a brief word with her son.

“How is he, Don?” she asked, darting a sideways glance at Donaldson. She had met the deputy on a several occasions, so he was no stranger to her, but she did wonder what he was doing here now.

“Wore out more than anything, Mom. I think he just overdid things today.” He didn’t want to go into too much detail about some of the stuff Chip had told him in front of Donaldson. His mother knew him well enough to realize that he had more to say in private, so she patted him on the arm and followed the others inside while Don quickly briefed the deputy on the threats his cousin had received and Don’s own concerns about security.

Inside Pat had guided Chip over to the overstuffed couch and gotten him settled. Earl had introduced his brother and sister-in-law. Cliff had brought out a medical bag and begun to examine Chip when Sammy rejoined them.

“Cliff, how is he?”

“Exhausted more than anything. A good night’s sleep will probably do more for him than anything else.” Cliff had pulled the bandages off of the incision on Chip’s back where they’d removed the bullet and cleaned up the groove it had carved along his rib. The stitches looked good with no redness or swelling. Cliff nodded in approval and taped another pad over it to keep it clean. “I think you’ve just not gotten your strength back yet, Chip. Your incision is fine, though you may be a bit sore in the morning.” As Chip put his shirt back on Cliff continued. “Did Doctor Jamison give you anything for pain?”

“Yeah,” Chip was tired enough that he was mumbling. Pat stepped in.

“His meds are up in his room. Do you want me to get them for you?”

“That would help, yes.” Pat stepped briskly out of the room and up the stairs. It took him less than a minute to find the bottles and return. He handed them to Cliff, who examined the labels carefully. One was an antibiotic, the other a painkiller. He took one of the painkillers out and handed it to Chip, who grimaced.

“I hate those things, Doc. They make me groggy.”

“You won’t heal if you’re in pain, Chip. Right now you need the relief and the rest.” Chip sighed in resignation and accepted the glass of water his aunt had brought to wash it down. He grumbled half-heartedly as he swallowed the pill and then stretched out on the couch. Sammy covered him with a light quilt and tucked it in around his feet. He was asleep in a matter of minutes, far too quickly for the pill to have taken effect. Sammy shook her head as she and her husband retired to the kitchen with her brother-in-law and his wife, leaving Pat to watch over him.

She fidgeted around the kitchen, making a pot of coffee while waiting for Don to put in an appearance and fill them in on exactly what had happened over the course of the day. It wasn’t long before Don appeared. Sammy put cups down around the table and indicated for the others to all sit while she poured. Once done, she took a seat and addressed her son.

“What happened, Don? Why’d you take him down to the station?”

Don ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I wanted Ben, that’s my partner,” he added as explanation to Cliff and Janice, “to meet Chip. One of the reasons that Admiral Nelson and Haggen wanted Chip and Pat out of California was that they had been getting threatening letters. Apparently there was one letter writer who knew enough about Chip that it alarmed both Haggen and the local authorities. Sheriff Atkinson knows about this, as does Chief Carlson. But it seemed to me that the officers who patrol out here ought to know about it too, so they could keep an extra careful lookout and maybe come by a little more often. I felt Ben should know since he’d most likely be with me if something did come down, or get called in on it. I didn’t expect some idiot to have decided to kill his family and ex-coworkers this morning, or go on a rampage shooting people at random. That‘s what we walked in on at the station - that‘s what triggered this.”

Cliff looked thoughtful. “How did he react?”

“Well at first he got wide-eyed and pale, but I was able to walk him out to the car and get him in it. He put his head down on the dash and moaned a bit, trembled some, but then he said he wanted to go down on the river and walk. That it would help him get through it. I called Mom to see if she thought it was a good idea or not.” Cliff nodded; Sammy had told him about the call. “So then I drove down to the boat access and we walked down the river bank maybe a half mile. We found an old log for a windbreak, I built a fire and we sat. He just started talking about the day that his Mom and sister were killed.” At this point Don hesitated. “Cliff, what he told me was in confidence. Anything more - I think he’ll have to tell you himself.”

To his surprise Cliff simply nodded. “Don, it’s not important that he has to talk to me - just that he has to talk it out with somebody. You’re probably going to actually be a better choice than I would, because you’ve seen the kind of violence he was a victim of. You’ll have a better appreciation for some of the details than perhaps the rest of us would. I don’t see a lot of patients in my practice with his kind of background, so I’m a bit out of my area of expertise here. If there are aspects you feel you need to discuss with an expert, particularly about Smith’s motivations, we can consult with an associate of one of my partners. We can do that without revealing any of Chip’s confidences, especially if you can get some of the files on the other cases.”

Don nodded. “I can get those from Haggen if we really need them. Will Monday be soon enough?” Privately he was amused that Cliff thought he was any better prepared to deal with Chip’s revelations than a shrink might be - though who among them was really prepared to deal with the idea of aliens anyway? But maybe Cliff was right. He certainly wanted to talk with Haggen about that particular subject too. Perhaps he’d have a better idea of what to do and who he could tell after that.

“Should be. I wouldn’t be able to talk to my colleague until Monday anyway. He’s out on vacation until then. On a cruise in the Caribbean with his wife to celebrate getting the last of the kids into college and out of the house.”

Sammy leaned forward. “Cliff, we were going to have the rest of the family come over for dinner tomorrow and meet Chip. Do you think we should postpone the gathering?”

Cliff rubbed his chin as he mulled over the idea. “Were they all coming, with kids and grandkids, or was it going to be just adults?”

“All,” noted Sammy wryly.

“Might want to limit the numbers until we see how he’s going to handle things. But I must admit, he has hung together better than I expected given his father’s attitudes.”

“Probably because from what he told me it wasn’t his father who raised him,” snorted Don. “It was his brother Hank and his wife.”

Cliff’s face brightened. “Really? Well, that could make a big difference. If he had someone to provide the sort of emotional net for him growing up that parents usually provide, even if was an older brother who served as a surrogate father, then he may not be as emotionally in danger as we’d feared. Don’t get me wrong, now. It won’t be cakewalk for him. But it won’t be as devastating as it could have been.” He turned to Sammy. “Have you had any contact with Hank over the years?”

Sammy thoughtfully ran a finger around the rim of her coffee cup. “I’m not sure.” At the questioning expressions on the faces of the others she explained. “For several years now I’ve gotten unsigned cards at Christmas with a Chicago postmark. I initially thought it might be Chip, but now that I know he lives in California and has for some years now, I think that it has to be Hank or Daniel. Are you thinking that we need Hank to come down here?”

“Not necessarily. But it would help if he would at least talk to us.” Cliff sipped his coffee as the others considered his statement.

“Doctor Jamison told me that Hank flew out to Santa Barbara while Chip was in the hospital and stayed a week. I think he might care enough about Chip to at least cooperate,” said Sammy slowly. “Jamison said he actually stayed there in Chip’s room the whole time he was in Santa Barbara General; that the police would’ve had to arrest him and dragged him bodily out to get him to leave.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps the best way to approach him would be to get Doctor Jamison to make the initial call, since they are apparently on cordial terms. That way Hank would at least hear us out. It also reduces the chance for Henry Morton to find out about it and interfere if Hank does decide to aid us in Chip‘s recovery.” Nods all around indicated that the others agreed with him. The next step was to decide exactly what they wished Jamison to tell Hank. The family settled in for a long brainstorming session, determined to get it right for Chip’s sake.

********

The day had dragged by with agonizing slowness for Harriman Nelson. Crane and Haggen had returned to the Institute to take care of business shortly before lunch; Sharkey and some of the rest of the Seaview’s crew had come by to check on him and his sister not long after the two had left. The chief had brought a briefcase from Angie, full of paperwork that only he could do. It made him briefly wonder if they had coordinated plans so as to not leave him sitting and brooding by himself all day in the cafeteria or ICU waiting room. The idea brought a brief smile to his face. But he appreciated having something to occupy his mind while he waited. Otherwise he feared that he might have been beating his head against the wall by now.

Jamison had come in a couple of times to check on him as well, but so far had no news on the results of the tests they’d been running on Edith. At least he hadn’t been by with any really bad news yet. Motion caught his eye again as someone entered the waiting room from the hall wearing a white coat. As he looked up he realized the approaching figure was Doctor Luketich - Jamison was only a few paces behind him. This was it, then. Nelson took a deep breath and steeled himself for the coming ordeal. By the time the two doctors had gotten to where he was seated he had gathered all of his papers and returned them to the briefcase. After snapping it shut, he rose to greet the two men.

“Admiral Nelson, why don’t we go down to my office so we can speak privately?” Luketich said as he approached. Nelson simply nodded. A few heads in the waiting room turned to watch their exit, surprised to have it confirmed that the tired looking red-haired man whom they thought resembled the famous Admiral Nelson really was him. However, most were too buried in their own misery and anguish to care, seeing him only as another fellow sufferer awaiting word on the fate of someone he cared about.

One man, however, saw opportunity. He leaned over and asked some of the others if they knew why the red-haired man was there. One woman, who had been there since before Edith had been brought in and who had offered Nelson her sympathy after learning the circumstances from Sharkey, spoke.

“His only sister was in a car wreck. The doctors had to do an emergency operation on her because she was bleeding in her brain. Poor man. The doctors have been running tests all day to see if she’s going to be brain damaged or not. I know what he’s going through.” The woman dropped her head and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue before continuing. “We’re waiting on word about our son too.”

“Were they in the same wreck?” asked the man. What a scoop if they had been!

“Oh, no. Our Jeffrey was in here the day before they brought his sister in.” She didn’t see the disappointment flicker in the man’s eyes. “But that short dark-haired fellow that was in here earlier, the one called Sharkey, he was. She ran her car into his car from what I understand. Even though it was her fault, he still feels real bad about it. I understand that he works for Mr. Nelson.”

A thrill flickered through the man. Yes! Now he needed the police report to find out exactly where and when the wreck occurred and what the circumstances were. He was eager to make up for missing the big story on Smith because he’d left too soon. This might just be the break he was looking for. He soon excused himself and went to find a payphone.

Inside Doctor Luketich’s office Nelson found himself wishing he was anyplace but here. His greatest fear at this moment was that they would tell him that his sister Edith was going to be permanently disabled in some way. His own mind was his greatest treasure and the thought of no longer being able to function mentally one of his greatest fears.

Luketich plopped down in his chair and yawned. “Excuse me, Admiral, but it’s been a long weekend already.” The man placed a file folder on the desk in front of him and opened it. He perused the top page for a few seconds, then continued. “You’ll be glad to know that I don’t think there’s going to be any long term impairment to your sister.”

For a moment Nelson froze in place, not quite daring to believe what he’d just heard, but a glance at Jamison nodding in agreement confirmed it. He exhaled a sigh of relief and let himself slump in his seat. “Doctor, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.” He also offered silent thanks to whatever higher powers had listened to his heartfelt prayers.

“Well,” said Luketich as he leaned back in his chair, “she’s not completely out of the woods yet. There’s always the chance of a setback after a major surgery like this. But the tests show what we would like to see at this stage of her recovery, so there aren’t any red flags up. She’ll need some therapy to get completely back to where she was before and it’s going to take time. Her short term memory is going to take a while to sort itself out again, so if she seems forgetful for the next few months, it’s not something to get upset about. Only if it continues beyond that or she starts forgetting things that happened before the accident should you worry. Right now her long term memory of the past seems to be okay. She’s fortunate that she was brought in quickly, diagnosed rapidly and the bleeding relieved before it could cause a lot of damage. Plus she’s fairly young and healthy. Jamison tells me she’s not a smoker and doesn’t do drugs or alcohol. That’s definitely in her favor. So if nothing untoward happens in the next week and she continues to progress as well as she has, you’ll be able to transfer her back to the Institute’s Infirmary by next weekend.”

“Can I see her now?” As reassuring as the doctor’s words were, he still needed to be with her. Not until she was safely back at NIMR and on the road to recovery would he allow himself to relax his vigil. When he might forgive himself for his own behavior and the guilt he felt wasn’t even in the equation at the moment.

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation at that point. Jamison got up to open the door and found Donnelly, the hospital Chief of Security, standing there. His presence and the expression on his face presaged less than welcome news. His words confirmed it.

“I’m afraid we got a problem, Admiral. The media just arrived.”

Nelson and Jamison looked at each other and sighed in perfect unison. What Nelson was thinking would have blistered the paint on Seaview’s bulkheads.

********

His mouth felt like sun baked sharkskin and tasted like fermented old socks basted in bearing grease. Man, that must have been some party - except that he didn’t care much for parties and couldn’t imagine why he would have gone to one. He sure felt like the morning after the night before, though. Chip blinked groggily as he stared up at a ceiling that was oddly familiar, but that he couldn’t quite place. His muddled mind sluggishly tried to spin up to speed and start functioning properly so he could orient himself to time and place. He had to get home. Man, Lee would kill him if he was late back to the boat.

He tried to sit up. Big mistake. His muscles groaned in protest. That was strange - he hadn’t been aware that you could actually hear muscles. He belatedly realized that the groan was coming from his throat, not his muscles. A blurred figure came into his field of view. When he finally got focused on the face, he realized with shock that it was Patterson hovering over him. Patterson? With recognition came remembrance as the memory of recent events flooded his mind. He groaned again, but this time it came from his soul.

“What time is it?” he croaked.

Pat looked at his watch. “A little bit past 19:00 hours sir.”

“Same day?”

“Yes, sir. You hungry, sir?”

“Need something to drink first.” As dry as his mouth was it was hard to speak; his tongue kept trying to stick to the roof of his mouth. He still hadn’t connected to his stomach to see if he felt hungry, though he was dimly aware that he’d missed both lunch and supper.

“I’ll get you a glass of water.” Pat moved out of his line of sight as Chip contemplated the strange and tragic twist the day had taken. Since he was still at his aunt’s house and not in a padded cell, he supposed that either Don had believed him about the Dawimhlar and the Seaview’s encounter with the other aliens or that he’d decide to humor him for the time being. Only time would tell if confiding in Don about what had happened the day his mother and sister were killed had been wise.

A hand with a glass of water moved into his field of vision. Chip looked up from his introspection to see Don offering him a glass with a straw. He sipped gratefully. As he did he could feel his body coming back to life, making it’s demands to be filled and emptied in the appropriate places.

“Help me up,” he told his cousin with some urgency, “I’ve got to go.” Don smiled crookedly, but helped Chip to his feet and offered a shoulder for support for the short trip to the bathroom. On the way Chip looked over at Don and asked, “Do the others think I’m crazy?”

Don shook his head. “I didn’t tell them what you said, only that we’d talked about what happened.”

Chip stopped and stared at him. “Cliff didn’t ask?”

“Nope. He said he didn’t get a lot of patients in his practice that had been through what you had. He said I was probably a better choice for you to confide in because I have seen the sort of thing you went through, dealt with the victims. Of course, he doesn’t know that part of it I’m definitely not qualified for.” Don shrugged wryly and added. “But then, who is?”

Chip attempted a rusty sounding laugh at the last statement. He put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder and said sincerely, “Thanks.”

“I don’t know what for. I’m as crazy as you are, I think.”

“Still.” Chip’s body made it’s needs known again and he shuffled on into the bathroom. Sammy entered the hallway as he was closing the door.

“He awake?” she asked Don.

“I heard that and the answer is sort of,” came a muffled reply through the door.

She laughed and called out, “I wasn’t asking you. Anyway, are you hungry?”

“Probably. I just can’t tell yet.”

“I saved you some pot roast. When you get ready, just come on into the kitchen and get it.” She patted Don on the shoulder in passing as she headed back into the kitchen where the others were still sitting at the table conferring. Now that Chip was awake, they were going to suspend their discussion.

A disheveled looking Chip Morton appeared at the door of the kitchen. Sammy had set a plate of reheated roast beef and vegetables at the table for him, along with a glass of milk. He slumped into the chair. At first he didn’t feel hungry, but after a couple of bites his stomach decided that it was pretty good after all. It took him longer than normal to finish his plate, but in the end he sopped up the last few bites with a slice of homemade bread and then leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. He was starting to feel human again.

He looked around at table at his family and realized just how much he’d missed them over the years. The old resentments towards his father stirred and were mirrored for an instant in his eyes. Cliff caught the flash and cocked his head to one side in question. Chip looked down at the table and hunched his shoulders defensively. Sammy looked a question at Cliff, but he shook his head in the negative to indicate that now was neither the time or place to address the problem. When no one commented, Chip looked up, puzzled at the lack of a response. His father would have raked him over the coals good for such a slip. He didn’t expect that sort of a reaction from anyone here, but he had expected someone, especially Cliff, to ask for an explanation.

No one did. Sammy simply leaned over and gave him a hug. His initial startled reaction quickly vanished and he leaned back into her embrace, burying his face in her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her. The understanding that seemed to flow from her was balm to his wounded soul. Don and Earl looked at each other, but said nothing to disturb the moment of healing. Patterson likewise remained silent.

Cliff had been watching carefully and found Chip’s reaction to the lack of response telling. He had a gut feeling that the fleeting look of hostility in Chip’s eyes hadn’t been directed at them - he also had a pretty good idea of who might have been the true target. It was going to be tricky to draw Chip out. He had a lifetime of practice at keeping his emotions concealed.

A part of him questioned the wisdom of being involved in treating Chip himself since he was technically family, but he knew from what little he’d seen that his sister-in-law’s nephew would be unlikely to open up completely to a total stranger. There was the added complication of Chip’s position as executive officer of a nuclear submarine, even though Seaview was civilian - something Cliff privately had his doubts about. Another doctor would have been obligated to report it to the Navy, since Chip was still in the Reserve. Cliff was aware from his conversations with Sammy that the Nelson Institute’s doctor had sent Chip here, knowing that Cliff was part of the family and a psychiatrist. He suspected that they preferred to find out on the quiet if Chip was unbalanced or not, rather than put him through an examination by strangers that might go in his personnel file and be subject to being misconstrued somewhere down the line. It might be a good idea for Cliff to talk to Doctor Jamison himself and find out just exactly what they were looking for. In the meantime, Chip needed to rest and recuperate from his physical wounds. There’d be time enough to tackle the older psychological ones later. Since Chip had already confided in Don about what happened with Smith, most of that part of the problem would be his task rather than Cliff‘s, anyway. It was the relationship that Chip had - or rather didn’t have - with his father that lay within Cliff’s field of expertise. However, tonight was reserved for recovery from the stresses of today. There’d be no questions for now.

The family retired to the living room and the TV for Starsky and Hutch. Don begged off.

“I get enough of that at work,” he said wryly. “Besides, Carolyn is threatening to come over here and make sure my cousin is really a Chip and not a Chippette.” Chip’s fleeting guilty expression caused Don to put his hand on his cousin’s arm and tell him, “I’m just kidding. She’d rather have me over here than out on the street on duty. Not that Dodge has a high crime rate, but still, it’s safer with you.”

“You’re sure?” Chip’s body language betrayed a lingering uncertainty, though he was trying to laugh it off as the joke Don meant it to be.

“Yeah, you lunkhead, I’m sure. Look, I’ll bring her by tomorrow and she can tell you herself. Trust me on this one, Cousin. If she didn’t want me hanging out with you, we’d both hear about it. Besides, as long as it really was my cousin, she wouldn‘t care if you were a Chippette.” Don moved his hand up to Chip’s shoulder and stared him in the eye, trying to project certainty.

Earl, overhearing, joined in. “He’s right about that, Chip. One thing about my daughter-in-law, she’s not afraid to speak her mind.”

“Okay. I’m convinced.” There was relief in the blue eyes that was hard for Don to miss. Don mock punched Chip in the jaw and slapped him on the arm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow after Mass. Mom, Dad, I‘ll meet you at church in the morning and follow you back over here with Carolyn. Her sister is going to take the kids home with her for the afternoon.” He kissed his mother goodnight, then let himself out the front door and vanished from sight.

“Mass?” Chip looked after him and knitted his eyebrows together for a moment. “I guess tomorrow is Sunday, isn’t it?” He looked over at Sammy and Earl.

“Do you want to come too?” Sammy asked.

Chip looked uncomfortable. He didn’t really want to go, but at the same time he didn’t want to say so and perhaps keep them from going. He looked to Pat for support.

“I’m Methodist. I don’t mind staying here with Mr. Morton. We’ll be okay by ourselves.” Pat had seen the silent plea for help and understood it. Sammy had seen the look between the two as well. It saddened her that he appeared to have lost his faith in God, but then he had been through an awful ordeal. Perhaps when he’d healed enough to regain his perspective he’d change his mind. She remembered that he used to love to go with them to Mass when he was a little boy. The old Sacred Heart Cathedral that stood on the corner of Central Avenue and Cedar Street had seemed to fascinate him. She had to briefly wonder where his path might have led if Clarissa had come home instead of marrying Smith and going to her death in Maine.

“Okay then. We’ll go to the 8:00 AM Mass and be home in plenty of time for lunch. Cliff, what about you and Janice?”

Cliff shrugged. “I’ve lapsed, I’m afraid. Janice?” Sammy read the unspoken message - it would be a good time to start prying Chip out of his shell, with a minimum of people around.

“I guess I’ll go with you.” Janice had gotten the message too.

“Then we’ll leave the three of you here while we go. I’ll warn you, though, I don’t usually fix a lot of breakfast since we leave so early.”

“That’s okay, Mrs. O’Brien,” said Pat. “I think we can survive till you get back. If not, then I’m a pretty good cook.”

Sammy laughed. “Yes, you are, Pat. Sounds like everything is under control then.”

Starsky and Hutch started, ending the conversation. Sammy settled on the couch, while Chip planted himself on the floor so that he was pressed against her leg. The others sorted themselves out into chairs. It didn’t take long for Chip to turn so that he could lay his head in Sammy’s lap, allowing her to gently stroke his hair and rub his neck and upper back. By the second round of commercials he was sound asleep. Sammy smiled sadly down at him. Cliff reached over and patted her on the hand.

“He’ll be okay. We’ll all muddle through somehow.”

She certainly hoped so.

*********

The sounds of people stirring around downstairs penetrated his consciousness. Chip raised his head, peering around to orient himself. He was in his room upstairs. As he contemplated how he got here - the last thing he clearly remembered was sitting on the floor by the couch with his head in his aunt‘s lap - he seemed to vaguely recall Pat guiding him up the stairs last night, still half asleep, and putting him to bed. From the light coming through the window, it was just barely past sunrise. He heard the front screen slam, followed in a few seconds by the sounds of car doors. By the time he’d gotten to his feet, the sound of the car crunching away on the gravel of the driveway had faded. He checked the clock sitting on the dresser. It was almost 7:30.

Well, now that he was awake, he might as well get dressed. He gathered up a shirt and jeans, put on his robe and headed for the guest bath. To his relief it was unoccupied, so he was able to get his morning rituals done at his leisure. By the time he was ready to descend to the lower floor, the smell of fresh coffee was wafting through the house. He entered the kitchen to find Pat and Cliff sitting at the table eating breakfast. Cliff was sipping on a cup of coffee and eating a ham sandwich while Pat had a plate of fresh fruit he was working his way through.

“Sandwiches for breakfast?” asked Chip as he poured himself some coffee and set down at the table.

Cliff shrugged. “Leftover bad habits from my days as an intern. You ate what was quickest and could be carried or went hungry.”

“Sounds like war patrol in the Navy,” observed Chip. “But it does look good. I think I’ll have a sandwich myself.” He got up and went over to the refrigerator and rummaged around. There was a bit of the roast left, so he pulled that out and sliced it. He added tomato, lettuce and mayo. Pat shook his head at the thick sandwich Chip carried back to the table. Chip just grinned at him, while Cliff worked to smother a laugh. The three finished their meal with small talk, avoiding the real issues, preferring to put off the serious business of why Cliff had been called in until later.

After breakfast was finished and the few dishes washed and dried, Chip gathered up a jacket from the rack by the back door and walked out onto the back porch. Cliff followed. He found Chip standing at the bottom of the steps looking out towards the garden and barn.

“Want to go for a walk?” Cliff had decided that he wouldn’t push Chip into speaking with him about his problems. Nonverbal communications would do for the start, if that was what Chip wanted. The two set out at a leisurely pace towards the back of the five acre plot that surrounded the house. There were actually several hundred acres that the O’Brien’s owned, but since Earl wasn’t a farmer, they had for years leased the rest of the land to one of their neighbors for wheat cultivation.

As the walk progressed in silence, Chip darted baffled looks in Cliff’s direction. Whatever he’d been expecting, clearly this wasn’t it. Finally he spoke.

“Cliff, why are you here?”

“Here as in ‘what am I doing in Dodge’ or here as in ‘why am I out here freezing my butt off walking with you’?” Chip blinked, taken aback at the directness, even though Cliff’s tone conveyed a touch of amusement.

“Both, I suppose.”

Cliff shrugged. “Part of it’s because Sammy asked me to. Part of it’s because I remember you as a kid and I liked you. I haven’t seen anything to make me not like you since I’ve been here. I was somewhat miffed at your old man for the way he shut out your mother’s family when she was killed. That added a lot of grief that really was unnecessary to an already tragic situation.” At this point Cliff stopped walking and turned to face Chip. “I’ll be the first to admit that I’m probably too close to the situation to be unbiased. Ethically, if you were a paying patient, I’d have to pass you on to someone else. On the other hand, that familiarity with the situation means that we can skip a lot of the beating around the bush about what happened. I know a lot of what happened because I was there myself. Your people at NIMR sent you out here knowing who I am and what I do, so I suspect they’d like your problem handled off the record. If you were a paying patient then all of this would wind up in your Navy personnel file.”

Chip blanched at the mention of his personnel file. This situation was a potential career killer. Suddenly he was glad that Nelson had come up with the idea of having him recover with his mother’s family. If Jamison had called in a psychiatrist at NIMR, even a civilian one, the rumors would have flown and Tobin, who was always on the lookout for ways to shaft Nelson, would have pounced on it. It wouldn’t have mattered what Chip’s real mental or emotional state was, Tobin would have used it to oust him as Seaview’s XO, just to spite Nelson. Chip couldn’t help but shiver.

Chip’s apprehensive reaction roused Cliff’s interest. Chip noticed and smiled grimly as he explained. “There’s another Admiral, Walter Tobin, that hates Harriman Nelson’s guts. Every chance he gets to try and cause problems he does. If Jamie had called in a shrink, even a civilian one, and Tobin got wind of it, he’d have me relieved of duty so fast my head would spin. Whether or not it was justified and what it might do to my career wouldn’t even enter into the picture.”

Cliff‘s mouth made a small ‘o‘ of sudden understanding. A lot that had concerned him about why Nelson would want to handle things the way he was suddenly became clear. “I see,” he said slowly. “Nelson’s protecting you, keeping Tobin from using you as a pawn in his power game.”

Chipped nodded. “Tobin’s not the only enemy Admiral Nelson’s got like that, but he’s one of the worst.”

“Any particular reason for his enmity?”

“Admiral Nelson was right in a dangerous situation that could have led to a war that would have destroyed this planet. Tobin was dead wrong in wanting to press a fight, and actually went so far as to try and arrest Nelson and relive him of his command when he wouldn‘t. The whole crew of the Seaview knows about it, but those of us who were on duty in the control room were actual eye-witnesses.”

“Ah.” A lot of things that had worried Cliff about becoming involved in Chip’s problem no longer looked quite so sinister. He considered for a moment and decided that he could treat Chip with a clear conscience. “I must admit that makes me feel a whole lot better about this whole situation being handled under the rug. But what you’ve described doesn’t sound like Seaview is a civilian ship.”

Chip sighed. “Boat. Submarines are traditionally called boats. And in that particular instance, no, we weren’t civilians. See, the boat and crew are in the Navy Reserve, so we can be called up on a moment’s notice for active duty. That was what had happened, so technically we were a Navy vessel when it happened. Tobin is still active duty, but he’s only got two stars. Nelson has four. Within days they’d stood us back down and we were technically civilians again.”

“Must get confusing at times.”

Chip gave a small laugh. “I have heard crewmen returning from leave ask the COB as they come aboard whether or not they were in the Navy today.”

Cliff chuckled. “And what’s a cob?”

“Chief of the Boat. Senior Chief Petty Officer aboard. That’s Francis Sharkey now. We lost our first COB, Curly Jones, to a heart attack a while back.”

“Sounds like despite all the confusion you love what you do.”

Chip’s eyes took on a faraway look. “Seaview is the greatest boat on the planet. I consider myself one of the luckiest men alive to be her executive officer.”

“The excitement?”

“The thrill of discovery.” Chip grew more animated as he warmed to his subject. “Most of the time we’re civilians and oceanographic research is what we do. I was piloting the Sojourner on the trip where we discovered hydrothermal vents. A whole ecosystem that doesn’t depend on light, but heat and chemistry. Amazing things and creatures no one had ever seen before. Every time we go out on a scientific mission we usually discover something new, see something no one has ever seen before. It’s exhilarating.” His eyes had taken on a sparkle. “That’s why when Admiral Nelson offered me the position of XO on the Seaview I didn’t have to think about it. Personally, I’d be just as happy had the boat been totally civilian.”

“The explorer rather than the warrior,” noted Cliff. Chip looked a little sheepish at having gotten carried away, but the Seaview and her scientific exploits were his passion. He nodded agreement.

“Lee isn’t quite as gung ho about the science missions as I am, but the Admiral hired him for different talents than I have. He’s got a command instinct and feel for the boat that has to be seen to be believed. We make a well balanced team.”

“A man you respect then.”

“He’s also my best friend. We were roommates at the Naval Academy. Seaview was the first time we’d ever served together, though.”

“It’s always good to have friends.” Cliff was both relived and encouraged to find that Chip had a long term friend. So often individuals who’d been emotionally abused the way Chip had been found it very difficult to form any sort of relationship, even short term. They tended to be dysfunctional loners, out of sync not only in a family setting, but often with society in general. Chip was at least able to function around other people. The loyalty of Patterson proved that. Cliff had observed closely the interaction between the two men and it was obvious that the young seaman had a great deal of respect for his superior officer. Cliff suspected that once Hank had taken his younger brother under his wing, Henry Morton’s importance in Chip’s life had rapidly waned.

“Don told me that Hank and his wife were a big part of your life.”

Chip’s eyes took on a wary look again. “I suppose.”

“Care to tell me about it?” Cliff waited patiently as he mulled it over.

“I guess. It’s not like it was a big secret. I moved in with Hank and Rachel when I was ten, six months after they were married. It was her idea, by the way. She came from a big, boisterous, normal family. When she saw the way my father was just … ignoring me… she threw a fit. Hank had always tried to be there for me before they got married, but…” Chip shrugged. “She treated me like I was her own, even after she and Hank had kids of their own.”

“And what did your father have to say about it?”

“Not much that I ever heard. I guess he was just glad to be rid of me. He didn’t come around much, which…” Here Chip paused, as if embarrassed.

“Was a relief?” Chip’s startled expression told him that that was exactly what had been his feeling. Cliff put a hand on Chip’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, you’re not the only person who’s ever been in this situation. You’re luckier than some I’ve seen - you had an older sibling who was willing to walk in and take up the slack. The fault wasn’t yours. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The troubled expression on Chip’s face indicated doubt. “Let me ask you something. When you first got back to Chicago with your father, how did he act?”

“Distant. Like I wasn’t there half the time.”

“And how did you feel?”

Chip cast his eyes down as a blush crept up his cheeks. “Angry. Betrayed. And guilty for being mad. Then just lost.” He sighed. “Part of me wondered what I’d done to deserve it, so I could try and undo it, but…” Chip stopped.

“But you hadn’t done anything, so you couldn’t undo it. Did you feel like sometimes you’d lost him too when you lost your mother?”

“Yeah, I did.” Chip looked at him speculatively.

“Chip, what you felt towards him was normal - even healthy. His reaction to your mother’s and sister’s deaths - that was abnormal. You weren’t the one with the problem, he was. When he emotionally abandoned you, well you went through the same process that you would have if he had literally died. I’m wondering if perhaps Hank did too.”

The look in Chip’s eyes grew thoughtful. “We talked about it some. I remember he said once that he didn’t know our dad anymore. He said it was like a dead man walking - just the ashes of someone he used to know, pretending to live.” Cliff was impressed. That was a pretty insightful observation for a fireman. “He told me that the change started even before Mom and Cassie were killed. Just before Mom left him in fact. Hank wouldn’t say much about it, but he did say once that he heard dad cursing her, saying that he hoped the next bastard she married killed her.”

“And then it really happened.”

“Yes. And that’s when Hank said he got really weird.”

“Sounds to me like he was feeling pretty guilty himself and couldn’t handle it.”

Some of the tenseness was starting to ebb from Chip’s posture, which Cliff took as an encouraging sign. Chip’s expression grew contemplative. “I just never looked at it from that perspective before.”

“So how did Hank handle it?”

“I think Rachel got him to go to the parish priest at her church and talk to him about it. She’s a pretty devout Catholic. Mom had kinda raised us that way, though dad was Lutheran.”

“Sounds like he got through it. Don’t you have another brother, though? How did he handle it?”

“Daniel.” Chip sighed. “Not quite as well as Hank. He was still sixteen when it happened - he started running with a rough crowd, drinking, raising hell. It’s a wonder he didn’t wind up in prison. I guess he finally worked through it, because he’s an engineer with the state highway department now.”

“And what about you, after Smith came back after you?” Despite his calm exterior, Cliff was holding his breath. This was potentially shaky ground.

Chip seemed to gaze off into the distance, but his introspection was turned inward. After several minutes he turned to Cliff with a wry smile and said. “It brought back some old hurts, but in a way the whole thing is finally over. There’s been a sort of justice done. He’ll never hurt anyone else and I survived. I’ll keep going on, one day at a time.”

Cliff let out the mental breath he’d been holding. Chip was in far better shape emotionally than any of them had dared hope. All he really needed was some TLC, a sympathetic ear and sufficient time for his body to heal. He smiled and clapped Chip on the shoulder. “Seems to me that it’s about time for everybody to get back from church. What say we go back to the house? Unless you want to be alone for a while?”

“Think I’m safe to leave alone?” The wry smile wavered only slightly.

“Quite safe, my friend. If all of my patients were as well grounded as you, I’d soon be out of work.” The blue eyes brightened with relief.

“Actually, I’d kinda like to walk a bit more. I need to start getting myself back in shape.”

“Not a problem. I’ll trail back up to the house. Just remember to show up for lunch or Sammy will send out a search party. She hates for people to miss meals.” Chip muffled a snort of laughter, feeling far better than he had for some time now. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he continued on down the path towards the orchard. He soon heard the screen door slam on the back porch, indicating that Cliff had gone in.

It only took a few minutes for Chip to reach the old rail fence that surrounded the orchard. He let himself through the creaky old gate. The apple trees at the front showed signs of having been neglected for several years now - they were badly in need of pruning. If he recalled correctly, the taller trees on the west side were all pears while the trees at the back were peaches, plums and apricots. The fruit was all gone now, as were the leaves. The grass was knee high, brown and sere. He surprised several large flocks of birds that were busy hunting seeds in the tall grass - they took wing with the muted sound of miniature thunder. He startled a rabbit, it’s tail a flash of white marking the path of it’s panicked flight deeper into the grass.

He stopped and breathed in the sights and sounds, recalling snatches of times he’d played here as a child with his cousins. The cool shady places under the trees in summer, climbing the pear trees, pretending to be pirates or Indians, games of hide and seek. He remembered too the time they’d gotten caught in a violent spring thunderstorm and hail had started stripping the leaves from the trees as the children had fled to the house, where Sammy had promptly bundled them into the storm cellar. There’d been a tornado touch down several miles to the east - afterwards Earl had taken them to the site and showed them the twisted trees and destroyed buildings. Where the funnel had crossed the highway it had actually scoured the asphalt from the ground. Chip had been suitably impressed and awed.

A smile played across his face. There’d be no storms today. The sky was a crisp blue without a cloud in sight. The overnight frost had already vanished. Though it was still chilly enough that he could see his breath in the still air, the day promised to be nice for this time of year. He found the old millstone that Earl had set up for them to use for a picnic table and sat on the edge to rest. From here the house was out of sight, hidden by the edge of the old chicken coop. He humphed softly to himself as he contemplated the conversation he’d just had with Cliff. It certainly hadn’t been what he expected. In fact, it sounded a lot like one of his conversations with Scathach.

The orchard gate creaked, bringing him out of his revere. He turned to see Patterson picking his way down the path. He had to grin. Even if Cliff had pronounced him mentally fit, he still had his ‘mother-hens’ that would worry he was overdoing things. Pat looked relieved to see that he was sitting.

“You okay, Mr. Morton?” The young man quickly scanned the surroundings, checking for any hidden dangers. Chip waved him to a seat on the millstone.

“Have a seat, Pat.”

The seaman hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude sir.”

“You’re not. I was just remembering playing here with my cousins.” The perplexed expression on Pat’s face told him he was having trouble imagining the Seaview’s XO as a little boy. Chip was hard pressed to not laugh. “So, did Cliff send you or did you come on your own?”

“Doc and the Admiral told me not to let you go anywhere alone, Mr. Morton. It’s not that they don’t trust you,” he hastened to add, “but until they find who wrote those letters, they’d rather be safe than sorry.” Pat sounded apologetic to have brought the subject up, since it cast a pall over the glorious morning.

Chip sighed. “Those damn letters. I hope whoever wrote them chokes on the next one.”

“I agree with that, sir!” was Pat’s heartfelt response.

“Speaking of the Admiral, have you talked to him or Doc lately?”

Pat grinned self-consciously. “I just got off the phone with Doctor Jamison. Doctor O’Brien was talking to him when I left.”

Chip just shook his head, but his smile took any criticism out of the action. “How’s Edith doing?”

“Doc says it’s looking pretty good. They’re hoping to bring her back to the Institute by next weekend at the latest. He did say the newsies had found out she was in there and have been snooping around looking for a story.”

“Damned vultures,” growled Chip.

“Yessir.” Most of the personnel at NIMR felt the same way about the media. “Uh, Doctor O’Brien said to tell you that everybody will be back from Mass in less than an hour.”

“I see. Well, I guess we’d better go back to the house. Wouldn’t want Aunt Sammy to send out a search party, would we?”

Pat grinned at him. “No, sir.” Chip rose from his seat and with Pat trailing close behind, walked slowly back to the house, conserving his energy.

He’d just gotten comfortable under an afghan in the big recliner in the living room when the crunch of tires on gravel announced the return of the rest of the family. Sammy and Earl were the first in, followed by Don and another woman that Chip assumed was his wife Carolyn. Janice brought up the rear. Don immediately brought his wife over and introduced her. Out of the corner of his eye Chip noticed Sammy and Earl cornering Cliff in the kitchen. He had no doubt that his aunt was demanding a full report. He allowed himself a small smile. Don followed his gaze and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Your Mom’s getting a full report, I would imagine.”

“So did he give you his verdict?”

“I’m not the one that’s crazy - dear old dad is.” Chip looked a little sad as he continued. “I guess I always knew that deep down someplace, but just needed to hear it from somebody who knew what they were talking about. An objective third party. Or at least as close to objective as I could find.” He paused for a moment, reflecting. “I guess between Hank and Scathach, they kept me from going around the bend. I owe both of them.”

“In that case, do you feel up to visitors?”

Chip eyed him skeptically. “What kind of visitors?”

“Your cousins - or part of them anyway. Jean, Jane and Sissy are coming by. The twins have never met you and Sissy was young enough she doesn‘t remember you. They’ve all promised to leave the kids home until you feel up to it.”

He thought about it. Even though he really wanted to just sit for a while and contemplate, he also didn’t want to appear rude. It was Sammy and Earl’s house after all, not to mention their kids. “Well, as long as it doesn’t get too crazy. I’m not up to much physical activity yet. I‘ve already had my walk for the day.”

“Not a problem. Sissy’s a nurse like Mom and Jean and Jane are both teachers.”

“In that case, sure. But if you don’t mind, I’m going to stay right here until lunch.”

“Not a problem.” Don and Carolyn joined the rest of the family in the kitchen, leaving Chip in his comfortable nest in the recliner. He soon dozed off.

The aroma of food and the rattle of plates being placed on the table woke him some time later. He yawned and stretched, but was comfortable enough that he was reluctant to throw off the afghan and get up. He watched the bustle in the kitchen through half closed eyes. There were three more women in there now that he didn’t recognize - though there was a certain familial resemblance. These must be his cousins. He looked them over carefully. If they were, then the twins Jean and Jane must be fraternal rather than identical twins, since all three looked different.

Sammy poked her head through the door and saw that he was awake. “I thought the smell of food would bring you around.”

“Your cooking will, anyway. Smells great.”

“Flatterer. You’re just looking for extra helpings.” She smiled at him fondly. Cliff’s report had relieved a great deal of her worry about him, but the business with the threatening letters had her concerned. Not for herself or Earl, since neither the city police nor the sheriff’s department would give out information on where they lived because their son was a cop. They had an unlisted phone number, so couldn’t be located through the phone book. Her worry was for Chip when he returned to California.

Oblivious to her concerns, Chip grinned back at his aunt and responded, “If it wasn’t so good, I wouldn’t want extra helpings.”

They both heard Earl’s laugh from the kitchen. He called out, “He’s got you there, Ma.”

“Well then, get yourself to the table and I’ll feed you.”

Chip got stiffly to his feet. The nap he’d taken had felt good, but he was still sore, especially in his back and shoulders. He could use a good massage - but he rather doubted that he’s find a masseuse in a place like Dodge City. However, the tantalizing aroma of fried chicken prompted him to ignore his aches and find his way to the table. He managed to conceal his stiffness and get seated with a bit of surreptitious assistance from Patterson, who snagged the seat next to him. His three female cousins were seated across the table from him. Their brother Don introduced them, verifying Chip’s suspicion that Jean and Jane were fraternal rather than identical twins. Their curiosity about him was obvious. It was Jane who initiated the conversation.

“Don says that you’re the second in command on the research submarine Seaview. What do you do exactly?” She taught high school biology and general science.

Chip smiled ruefully. “Mountains of paperwork mostly.” The reply brought a moment of silence followed by titters of laughter.

“I can relate to that,” muttered Jean, who taught history and English.

“Doesn’t sound very exciting. But I was reading not too long ago about something called hydrothermal vents that your boss Nelson discovered. Can you tell us anything about it?”

He snorted. “I was Sojourner’s pilot on that dive. I saw the smokers and pointed them out to the Admiral.”

“Smokers?” The others had paused in eating to take avid interest in the conversation.

“The superheated water coming out of these vents is so mineral laden, especially with metal sulfides, that it sometimes looks like black or white smoke coming out of the vents. The temperature difference between the vent water and ocean is unbelievable - we’ve measured temperatures at the mouths of some of the vents up to 750 degrees Fahrenheit while the ambient temperature of the deep sea is less than four degrees above freezing. The vent discharge doesn’t flash into steam because there’s 8,000 feet of ocean over it and the pressure is just unimaginable.” Chip paused to shovel in a few bites before continuing.

“The minerals start to precipitate out as soon as they hit the colder ocean water and build these incredible natural chimneys. The largest one we’ve seen so far is nearly fifty feet tall. There’s some of the most astonishing sea life you’ve ever seen that lives there. The whole ecosystem runs on hydrogen sulfide and bacteria rather than sunlight. Some of the vents have colonies of these giant tube worms that are about four feet tall and live in thickets. On the feeding end they have red plumes that can make the scene look like a field of poppies. There’s unique species of crabs, clams, mussels, shrimp, worms, fish - even octopi. None of them are found in any other environment.” He bolted a few more bites.

“We’ve got a program underway to look for more of these vent fields by looking for temperature anomalies in the water column. That’s how we found the first one. Seaview had encountered a plume of seawater that was warmer than it should have been and had an odd chemical composition. We tracked it as close as we could get but the bottom was way below Seaview’s crush depth. So we then took Sojourner down to pinpoint the source on the sea floor.” He paused again, this time for some tea.

“Every time we take Seaview out we discover something new. Three-fourths of the surface of the earth is covered with water, but we know less about the deep oceans than we do the surface of the moon.”

“I had no idea,” said Sammy, “that what you did was so exciting. It must be like exploring an alien world.”

“That’s a pretty good description, Aunt Sammy. It’s a hostile environment, just like space. People can’t survive in in the oceans without special equipment and training.”

Jean shook her head in amazement. “I guess Captain Sligo’s genes must have settled in you. I can’t imagine living like that.”

“About that…” He turned to Sammy. “You mentioned him in your letter. Was he really a sea captain?” Chip’s skepticism was evident. Kansas, he felt, was a very strange place for a man who’d spent his life on the sea to retire to.

“Oh, yes,” responded Jean, accompanied by nods around the table, “he was. He’d been a whaling captain. Owned a ship named the Emerald Rose. He sold her in San Francisco in 1883 and drove a wagon east to Kansas, reversing the route that the Forty-niners took. His bosun, a man named Watney, came ahead of him and had a house - of a sort - built by the time the Captain got here. His land was next to that of a widow named Josephine Burney. Well, to make a long story short, with the help of her two kids, he wooed and won the hand of his neighbor. So this is where he and Mr. Watney spent the rest of their days, raising cattle and eventually wheat, along with large families.”

“But why Kansas?”

Sammy spoke. “When I was still relatively young, he used to tell us grandkids that the reason he came to Kansas was that he wanted a house built on the hundredth meridian.”

Chip blinked and did some rapid navigation in his head. “Okay,” he drawled out slowly, “but there are places on the hundredth meridian that are a lot closer to an ocean than Kansas. Why this far inland?”

Sammy looked thoughtful for a moment. “My impression was that he wanted to be some place far enough from the sea that he wouldn’t be constantly tempted to go back. He’d been married once before, when he still home ported his ship in Ireland. His wife died in childbirth while he was away at sea and the baby daughter died too. They’d both been buried for several months before he even knew they were dead. Though he never came out and said so, I think he wanted to make sure that the next time he had a wife, that he’d be there, no matter what. I know that he still mourned them, because he’d get real sad when he spoke about happened.”

“Oh.” Chip mulled the information around, analyzing it. “So just how old was he when he came here?” The man had to have been middle aged at the very least.

“He was forty-five when he married Josephine. She was thirty-two. I have a feeling that one reason he allowed himself to fall for her was that she already had two children by her first husband, so pregnancy was something that probably wasn’t going to be a problem. They wound up having eight together, including two sets of twins. Plus he adopted her two.” It was Jean who supplied this information.

“You knew him, Aunt Sammy?” Chip had managed to finish most of his plate while the others had talked.

“Oh, my yes, Chip. He didn’t die until I was thirteen years old. He used to have the most wonderful tales of the sea and the great seaport cities he’d visited.” A shadow momentarily crossed her face and she stopped, not meeting Chip’s eye.

Chip reached across the table and took her hand. “Something about my Mom?”

She smiled sadly. “Clarissa used to love to listen to his tales of far away places. She always wanted to go see them for herself. I guess she had a restless soul.” She gazed off into the distance, remembering her sister, and sighed. “If she’d been a boy, I have no doubt she would have gone to sea.” The unspoken thought was that she’d probably still be alive then.

“Born too soon,” commented Chip thoughtfully. At the others questioning looks, he added, “The Navy accepted it’s first female cadets for the Academy this year.” Jaws dropped around the table.

“Are they going to send them to sea with the men?” asked Don, a flabbergasted expression on his face.

“Not yet,” said Chip wryly, “but you know if they have the training and do as well as the male officers that there will be no real excuse in the future to keep them off of vessels at sea. I can see it happening in the next decade or so.”

“Would you work with a female officer?” This from Cliff.

Chip thought about it. “Yes.” The disbelieving looks on some of the other’s faces prompted him to explain. “The first ones are going to have to be better than their male counterparts to get half the credit. That’s what happened when the military first started accepting blacks for officers - especially for pilot training and other technical specialties. I’ve worked with some of those men. They have incredible ability and dedication. I have no doubt it will be the same way with the women. I’d rather work with people like that than somebody’s who merely adequate for the job.” He paused, then added, “Merely adequate can get you killed, especially on a submarine.”

Particularly on a submarine like Seaview, though he didn’t say so out loud.

“You aren’t worried about girls applying just to look for husbands?” asked Don.

Chip shook his head. “The ones who would do that are unlikely to get past the screening process. It requires commitment just to get considered for admission. It’s not like a regular college setting - military discipline applies. Those who can’t hack it get out pretty fast. By the time you graduate, you’re pretty well indoctrinated into the traditions of the Navy. No, I’m not worried about husband hunters graduating out of the Academy.”

He shook his head as he reflected. “It’s going to be rough on the first ones. There are a lot of men in the military who are pretty much what the feminists call male chauvinists. Especially amongst the older officers and career enlisted men.”

“What about your boss?” inquired Jane.

“Nelson? I think he’d hire a purple sea slug if it had a skill he needed. He’s one of the more open minded flag officers. About a lot of things.” His eyes met Don’s briefly and they shared a wry smile.

“What about you, Pat?” asked Jean.

He shrugged. “Lotta men don’t have what it takes to serve on Seaview. You gotta be the best of the best. If a woman has what it takes to make the cut, I‘ll work with her.” If they were expecting him to disagree with Mr. Morton publicly, it wouldn’t be on this subject. Like Chip, he’d served with black men who were pioneers in their fields and knew firsthand how much more dedicated they tended to be - in fact had to be in order to survive despite the bigotry they encountered.

“Well,” said Sammy, “once we get dessert and the dishes taken care of, I’ll get down my photo albums and show you some pictures of Captain Sligo. In his own way, he was a man ahead of his time. One of his reasons for quitting the whaling trade was that he felt sorry for the great beasts, as he put it. He also raised a few buffalo to keep the breed from going extinct.”

“Really? He sounds like a man I might have liked to know.”

“Oh, he was quite a character. I’ll have to fill you in on some of the shenanigans he got into. Drove the US Marshal in Dodge City a bit crazy at times.’

“You can say that again,” Chip heard Don mutter under his breath. He had the US Marshal’s personal papers and he’d had plenty to say about Captain Aaron Sligo. Matt Dillon had found him to be a very unique individual - which was saying something given the time and place. The West was a place that had been filled with colorful characters.

Chip had by now finished his plate and was ready for dessert. Sammy made the most mouthwatering peach cobbler he’d ever eaten. Add a scoop of ice cream and it was a taste of heaven. Conversation was therefore temporarily suspended while everyone dug in. Once the cobbler had been devoured, the women shooed the men out of the way, sending them into the living room while the ladies made short work of cleanup.

Chip had once more retreated to his nest in the recliner and gotten comfortable when Sammy entered carrying two large photo albums. Her daughters followed close behind. Don vacated the chair he’d pulled close so he could talk to Chip, relinquishing it to his mother. She placed the smaller of the two albums in Chip’s lap as Pat took up station behind him, peering over his shoulder. Chip flipped the cover of the album open. There on the first page was a photo of a middle aged man in a civilian sea captain’s uniform of the mid 1880’s. The face that stared back out at them was one the two men knew well.

The shocked gasps that came from both Chip and Pat had Don and Cliff scrambling over to see what was wrong.

Pat found his voice first and pointed a shaking finger at the photo. “That’s Admiral Nelson!” he exclaimed.

“What?” asked Sammy in a confused voice, peering uncertainly at the photo. “That’s Captain Sligo. The picture was taken shortly after he moved here to Dodge City.”

Chip, beginning to recover from his shock, examined the picture more closely. “It’s not the Admiral, Pat.” He looked up at his aunt. “But let me tell you, except for his mustache and that scar on his hand, this guy is a dead ringer for Admiral Harriman Nelson.” The mouths of the others dropped in shocked astonishment. Chip ran a finger thoughtfully over the photo. “Looks like his eyes were blue.” He got a nod of confirmation from Sammy, whose eyes had gotten wide in amazement. “What color was his hair?”

“Red,” answered his aunt, still somewhat stunned.

“It would be. I wonder if he had any relatives who wound up in Boston?”

Pat’s eyes widened at the implications inherent in the question. “Wow, Mr. Morton. You think you and the Admiral might be related?”

Chip pointed at the picture. “I’d say it’s at least possible. But probably not closely related. Third or fourth cousins at best. Great-great-great grandfathers or something.”

Pat looked thoughtful as he considered the possible ramifications. “You know, sir, if you are related, that might just be the thing to get Miss Nelson off your back.”

Chip blinked. That was an aspect he hadn’t considered. A contemplative expression settled on his face. “You could be right,” he drawled slowly. This was something that bore looking into. He would have to ask the Admiral to check and see if Sligo really was related and determine just how close the biological kinship was. This might be an instance of the closer, the better. He looked at his watch to check the time. 1:30 PM. That would make it 11:30 in Santa Barbara, just before lunch. In all probability Nelson was at the hospital. The question was whether or not he was in Edith’s room or if Doctor Jamison had managed to persuade him to go to the cafeteria and eat. Ordinarily Chip would have waited for a face to face meeting to broach a subject like this to his employer, but he knew that Nelson was as tired of the situation with Edith as he was. If there was a possibility of resolving it without any further injury to feelings and egos, he suspected that Nelson would jump at the opportunity.

The others were looking at him oddly when he looked up. “Miss Nelson?” queried Don.

“Ah, the Admiral’s sister.” Sammy was the only one of his family who knew about his problems with Edith, a state of affairs he preferred to maintain. However, it didn’t look like he was going to be able to let it slide. He sighed. “Since she can’t get my friend Lee to marry her, she thinks she wants a relationship with me. I’m not the least bit interested. The Admiral knows what’s going on and has been trying to help me shoo her off gently. So far,” he added glumly, “nothing’s worked.”

“Sometimes kinship does have a way of cooling one’s ardor,” grinned Cliff.

“I certainly hope it does in this case,” responded Chip fervently. “Give me some details on the good Captain so the Admiral will be able to know for sure if he’s a relative or not. Wait, where’s something so I can write this down?” Don silently handed him a small notepad and a pen. “Okay. What’s his full name, when and where was he born, everything you know about him.”

Sammy reached over and turned to a page near the back of the album. There in precise hand printed letters was all the information he needed.

Aaron Patrick Sligo born August 31, 1839 Mullaghmore , Ireland

Died March 11, 1920 Ford County, Kansas

Father - Patrick Ryan Sligo born June 7, 1811 - ship’s carpenter - died at sea Nov 23, 1852

Mother - Shanna Muirin O’Donnell born September 12, 1814 - died Jan 2, 1872

Married Anne Collins (born Jan 10, 1840 Sligo Town, Ireland) on Aug 2,1859

Died April 18, 1860 in childbirth. Daughter Jennifer Anne also died.

Married Josephine Gabriella Bristol Burney (widow) on July 8, 1884

Born Dec 6, 1852 Cleveland, Ohio - died Sept 1, 1926

The rest of the pages were neatly filled with the names, dates of birth and death of all Aaron Sligo’s descendants and their spouses.

Chip arched his eyebrows as Pat put a hand up trying to muffle a snicker. It was obvious that stubbornness wasn’t the only trait he’d inherited from his mother’s side of the family. Chip lifted his eyes to meet his Aunt Sammy’s and grinned. She blushed.

Don leaned over with a feral grin and said, “Don’t tell me. You inherited the ‘things gotta be neatly organized’ curse too.” Pat couldn’t hold his amusement in any longer. At the sardonic look Chip gave him he exploded into outright laughter, along with everybody else.

“Very funny. The ballast tanks could stand to be scrubbed with a toothbrush when we get back,” he mock growled, trying hard to maintain a stern demeanor. The others just laughed harder, even Pat, since he knew Chip wasn’t serious. He lacked that certain tone in his voice that told one and all aboard Seaview when the XO was seriously ticked off. The smile that couldn’t be contained confirmed it. Chip finally gave up and joined in with a chortle of his own.

Once the mirth died down, he said to Sammy, “Can I borrow your phone and the album to call the Institute? The security people will know where everyone is.”

“Of course, Chip.” The shining expression in her eyes told him that she was excited at the prospect that the famous Admiral Nelson might be related, even if only remotely. He uncurled himself from the recliner and made his way to the kitchen table, followed by the others. They all settled around the table, leaving him the seat closet to the phone. He dialed the number from memory. Tamara, one of the switchboard operators that he’d occasionally dated, answered.

“Hi Tamara, it’s Chip Morton.”

“Chip!” was her delighted response. “How are you?”

“I’m doing okay. Say, who’s on the duty watch today?”

“Oh, that would be Nole O’Hara. Do you want me to connect you through?”

Chip furrowed his brow. He didn’t particularly like O’Hara, though he had nothing specific against the man. “Is Philip Haggen around?”

“No, he’s at home. Do you need him?”

“Well, no. Actually I need the Admiral. Do you know where I can reach him?”

“As a matter of fact I do. He left the number at the hospital where he could be reached. He hasn’t left except when Jamie or Lee have dragged him bodily out.”

Chip’s expression brightened with relief. He really didn’t want to talk to O’Hara. “In that case, if you’ll give me the number, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No problem, Chip.” She read him the number. “Any idea on when you’re coming back?”

“Probably not until after Thanksgiving. And thanks.”

“I’ll expect payment for the favor when you get back.” Her voice had turned sultry, causing Chip to blush.

“Uh, okay,” he said as the others held in titters of amusement at his obvious embarrassment. He hastily hung up. Sammy patted him on the shoulder and smiled. He rolled his eyes and quickly dialed the number Tamara had given him, forestalling any comment about the cause of his blush. The phone was answered on the second ring.

“Hello?” The voice was Jamison’s.

“Jamie? It’s Chip.”

“Chip! It’s good to hear from you. There’s not anything wrong is there?” Worry colored the doctor’s voice.

“No, no. In fact just the opposite.” Chip heard a sigh of relief from the Seaview’s doctor. “We’ve been going through the family tree and run a cross a fellow who is a dead ringer for the Admiral. My great-grandfather, a sea captain named Aaron Sligo. Given the astonishing resemblance, we were wondering if he might be related to the Admiral as well.”

“Ah, well, I see.” Chip grinned, for clearly a question of kinship had been the farthest thing from the doctor’s mind as a reason for him to be calling.

********

The phone in Edith‘s room rang. Glancing over at Nelson slumped in his chair, Jamison decided he’d better answer it himself. He froze momentarily when the caller was revealed to be Chip Morton. Nelson looked up at the mention of Chip’s name, dread in his eyes at the prospect of some new disaster. Jamison’s sigh of relief by the second sentence was a massive relief to the beleaguered admiral. The totally baffled expression that settled on the doctor’s face by the third sentence of the conversation had him arching his eyebrows questioningly. Jamison held the phone out to him.

“He wants to know if you’re related to some sea captain named Aaron Sligo.”

Edith stirred in the bed. “Great-grandfather,” she mumbled.

“What?” asked Nelson, turning to her. Why did that name seem so familiar?

Edith looked at him through half open lids. “Remember Mother telling us about Grandmother Jennifer’s father? How her mother died while he was at sea and when he came back they told him she’d died too. Then told her when she got old enough that he’d just not come back? How she’d found out from an aunt that they’d lied because they were angry at him and had been against the marriage? That when she found out she’d left for America to try and find him but never did?” Edith was breathless by the time she’d finished. Nelson’s mouth made a round ‘o’ of astonishment as he recalled what she was talking about. He’d been eight when his grandmother Jennifer died, but he remembered the feisty old lady clearly. He also now recalled her sad story about her search for her father, Captain Sligo.

Jamison had a peculiar expression on his face. “Ah, it can’t be the same guy - can it?”

“Who?” By now Nelson was getting exasperated.

“Chip’s great-grandfather was also named Aaron Sligo.”

Edith’s eyes flew open and Nelson’s jaw dropped in shock. He snatched the phone from Jamison’s hand.

“Chip?” His voice was gruffer than he’d meant it to be.

“Yes, Admiral.” Nelson could hear a note of trepidation in Morton’s voice.

“Tell me what this is about.” He softened his tone, but he still heard the young officer swallow nervously.

“We were looking at some old pictures of my family and my great-grandfather Sligo looks just like you, sir. The question came up as to whether or not we might be somehow related.”

Nelson’s eyebrows nearly climbed off his forehead. He covered the phone and looked over at Edith. She’d gone through a phase at one time of researching the family tree, so she’d know more about their great-grandfather than he would. “Edith, do you know the name of Aaron Sligo’s wife? His birthday? Middle name? Anything like that?”

She thought for a moment, a pained expression on her face. The look cleared. “His birthday was the same as yours, August 31. His middle name was Patrick. I know his wife’s first name was Anne. I think her maiden name was Collins.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry, Harry, but I just don’t remember much more than that.”

“That’s enough for a start.”

“All of the papers are in a closet in my house back in Boston, if you need them.” Her expression was a mixture of emotion, with dismay dominating.

Nelson uncovered the phone and lifted it to his ear. “Chip.”

“Yessir.”

“What was your great-grandfather’s full name and birthday?”

“Aaron Patrick Sligo, August 31, 1839.”

“Christ,” was Nelson’s startled exclamation. He‘d really expected it to be something totally different. “Do you know the name of his wife?”

“Which one?”

“You know the name of his first wife?”

“Yeah - it was Anne Collins. She died in childbirth along with their daughter Jennifer.”

Nelson didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It had taken a hundred years, but Captain Sligo had finally been found. In Kansas of all places. No wonder his daughter had never been able to find him. A strangled laugh escaped him.

“Sir?” There was alarm in Morton’s voice.

“She didn’t die.”

“What?” Now it was Morton’s turn for incomprehension.

“Jennifer Sligo didn’t die. Anne Collins parents lied to her husband. She was my grandmother, Chip.”

“Shit! Oops, sorry, sir. But that would make him…”

“My great-grandfather too.”

“Then we’re…”

Nelson looked over at Edith, who had tears rolling down her cheeks. “Second cousins,” she murmured, looking stricken. “I’ve been trying to marry my cousin.”

“Second cousins,” he repeated into the phone. There was a shocked silence at the other end.

********

“Second cousins,” repeated a stunned Chip to the rest of the family.

“How?” demanded Sammy. For them to be second cousins Harriman Nelson would have to be Aaron Sligo’s great-grandson. He certainly wasn’t descended from any of the Kansas Sligo’s.

“He said Jennifer didn’t die. That Anne’s parents lied to Sligo about it. That Jennifer was his grandmother.”

“Wow,” murmured Pat. “I think your problem with Miss Nelson just got solved, sir.”

“No shit, Pat,” said Chip, looking confounded. Second cousins was a lot closer relationship than he’d reckoned on. This had the potential to seriously alter his relationship with the Admiral - and the crew.

Don looked at his mother. “That means that you and the Admiral are ..”

“First cousins once removed,” she breathed in awe. “Oh, my.” She looked over at Chip, who was staring at the phone like it might bite. She reached over, took it from his hand and put it to her ear.

“Chip? Are you okay?” Nelson was asking.

“Admiral Nelson?” she queried. “This Sammy O’Brien.”

“Ah,” said the rich voice on the other end of the line, “is Chip okay?”

She shivered. Though it had been decades since her grandfather had died, she immediately recognized the voice as being nearly the same. It was uncanny. “I think he’s just momentarily stunned.” She paused, then blurted out, “You sound just like him too.”

“Aaron Sligo?”

“Yes. It’s kind of spooky.”

“How old were you when he died?” asked Nelson, now intrigued.

“Thirteen. He was such a wonderful storyteller. He could paint pictures with words. You don’t quite have the Irish accent that he did, but otherwise…” she sighed. “This is so bizarre. Chip said that Anne’s parents lied to him about his daughter being alive. Why would they do such a cruel thing?”

It was Nelson’s turn to sigh. “According to Grandma Jennifer, they’d been opposed to her mother marrying Aaron. His ancestry wasn’t good enough. His father was a common sailor.”

“A ship’s carpenter, he told us.”

“To a city merchant with money, that’s still a common sailor.”

Sammy snorted. “And Aaron Sligo was a twenty year old sailor himself. Oh, yeah, I bet that did thrill them.”

“Then when she died in childbirth, I guess they wanted to hurt him, so they told him both his wife and daughter had died.”

“How did they justify that to your grandmother?”

“They didn’t. They told her that he’d abandoned her when her mother died.” Sammy’s shocked gasp interrupted him. “One of her aunts apparently felt the same way. When my grandmother was eighteen and about to be married off to the son of one of her grandfather’s business associates, the aunt came to her and revealed the truth. She walked out, disowning her mother‘s parents, vowing to look for her father. She apparently found someone who told her that he’d emigrated to America, so she did too. She never did find him though.”

“But now you have. And you’ve got all these kinfolk you never knew existed.” She laughed. “Oh, my. I never dreamed when I brought out my photo albums to show Chip that we’d find more of the family. It’s really too bad that your sister Edith is in the hospital - it would have been nice to have the two of you here for Thanksgiving. Do you think she‘ll be recovered enough to travel by Christmas? Unless you‘ve got other family you‘re going to visit, of course.”

“No,” he answered somewhat sadly, “Edith and I are the only ones left out of our family, except for three older first cousins and their children and grandchildren on our mother’s side.”

“Then they are our family too! You and I are first cousins once removed, you know. So are my brothers and sisters. My dad and his siblings are your great-uncles and aunts - about half of them are still living. You’ve got lots of family.”

There was a moment of silence from the other end of the phone. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. How many are there of you?”

“Let’s see.” Sammy thought for a moment. “From Aaron Sligo’s eight kids there were thirty-seven grandkids and one hundred ninety-four great-grandkids - that’s Chip’s generation - and I’d have to count to see how many great-great-grandkids, but it’s over two hundred.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. “Christ. Haggen wasn’t kidding when he said Chip had a horde of relatives.” The numbers boggled Nelson’s mind.

Sammy laughed. “Irish Catholics. What can I say?” Nelson found himself chortling with her. It felt good to laugh. It was also a relief to have the problem of his sister and Morton solved, if Edith’s expression was anything to judge by. He’d have to give Crane warning, though.

“Well, since we’re family, I guess you can call me Harry if I can call you Sammy.”

Sammy was delighted. “Oh course you can. I’d be insulted if you didn’t. I’ll get copies of some of the family photos made for you and fill Chip in on who they are so he can fill you in.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” said Nelson. “Is Chip recovered enough to speak now?”

“I believe so. Here he is.” She handed the phone back to Chip.

“Admiral?”

“What, you aren’t going to call me Harry?” Nelson asked in a droll tone.

“Well, not in public anyway,” answered Chip dryly. “I think my tongue would fall off.” He heard Nelson’s guffaw at the other end of the line.

“I suppose I could get used to it in private,” said Nelson when he’d stopped laughing.

“How is Edith taking this?”

“I think your problem is solved.” There was a touch of sadness in Nelson’s voice. Chip sighed. “Not your fault, Chip. This is probably the best solution all the way around. At least the relationship was revealed before anything happened between you and Edith.” There was that. “This doesn’t have to change anything aboard Seaview. I know you’re too professional for that.”

“I wasn’t worried about my relationship with you, sir.” Nelson knew what he meant. There would be a handful of fools who would insist on believing that Chip got his position through nepotism, despite the fact that he’d been XO now for nearly three years without Nelson having any idea they were related.

“We’ll deal with anybody else as the situation warrants.”

“How’s Doc handling this?”

Nelson snorted. “Sitting over in the corner grinning like a Cheshire Cat. And I’ll never hear the end of it from Philip once he finds out.”

“Lee’s the one who’s gonna be bent out of shape.” It wouldn’t be because Chip had turned out to be Nelson’s cousin; no, he‘d be dismayed because there was now no one to deflect Edith’s attention away from him. Chip inwardly cringed at the thought.

Nelson’s sigh told him that the admiral’s thoughts probably paralleled his own. “I’ll speak to him myself about it.”

“I do appreciate that, sir.”

“Otherwise, how are you getting along?”

“Better than I was, actually. I really needed this. Thanks for making the arrangements for me to come out here.”

“I’m glad it worked out, Chip, even if it did have a surprise ending. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine. We’ll talk when I get back. There’s a few things we need to discuss about something else, but it can wait.” Nonhuman visitations was a subject he didn’t want to air over the phone - or in front of his other relatives.

“Then I’ll see you when you get back.” There was a click as Nelson hung up the phone. Chip thoughtfully hung up his as well.

He spent the rest of the afternoon enthralled by stories of Captain Aaron Sligo and his days in Kansas.

********

Nelson sat for a moment, a bemused expression lighting his features. Jamison was hiding behind the Sunday paper, trying hard not to burst into laughter. Edith was the only one not amused by the turn of events; she’d turned her head away from the doctor and allowed her tears to flow freely onto the pillow.

A knock at the door pulled Nelson from his reverie. Haggen stuck his head in, followed by Lee Crane. Nelson looked over at Edith and decided that the coming conversation needed to take place somewhere out of her hearing. He got up from his seat and motioned for the two to join him. “We need to go down to the cafeteria and have a little talk.”

Haggen and Crane looked at each other, perplexed. They’d expected to have to drag him out to eat. When he strode out the door headed for the elevator, the pair had no choice but to follow. Once in the elevator with the door closed Haggen cocked his head to one side and said, “Give, Harry. Edith didn’t look very happy about something.”

Nelson harrumphed but turned a lopsided grin on them. “You know that horde of Kansas relatives that you found for Chip?”

“Yeah?” Haggen was giving him a wary look, wondering if he’d missed something, while Crane looked on in bafflement.

“Turns out they’re my horde of relatives, too.”

“What!” Haggen and Crane yelped in unison.

“Wait a minute. Just how close kin are we talking here, Harry?” Haggen was looking at Nelson like he’d suddenly sprouted horns.

“Chip is my second cousin,” said Nelson blandly, arms folded across his chest. Both men’s jaws dropped. Haggen put a hand to his chest and Crane backed against the rear of the elevator car in shock. The captain’s face had gone chalky white.

“But how?” came Crane’s plaintive question.

“Let me tell you the story of my great-grandfather, Captain Aaron Sligo.”

“Oh, hell,” said Haggen, recognizing the name. Nelson grinned at him and clapped him on the shoulder as the elevator came to a stop and opened its doors. The three men stepped out and headed for the cafeteria. Nelson began his story.

“Aaron Sligo met and married my great-grandmother…..

*******

Patterson pushed back from the table. “Mrs. O’Brien, that was delicious and now I’m stuffed.”

Sammy looked delighted, but shook her finger at him. “Now, Pat, I told you to call me Sammy.”

He blushed and mumbled, “Yes, Ma’am.” She just shook her head at him while Chip smothered a laugh.

“Lost cause, Aunt Sammy.”

Pat rolled his eyes but smiled. “I think I’m going to have to walk off supper. Does anybody want to go with me?” There were head shakes all around. Pat shrugged and rose from his chair. “I’ll be down in the orchard if you need me.” He collected his coat from the entryway, along with a flashlight and headed out the back door.

The sun was nearly below the western horizon. The few wispy clouds in the sky were bathed in oranges and reds that were rapidly deepening in color. Twilight was swiftly spreading across the landscape. The eternal prairie wind rustled the dry grass as he opened the orchard gate and sought out the old stone millwheel. Settling down on the stone, he looked carefully around to make sure that no one had changed their mind about coming with him. Just to be sure, he waited patiently until the last bit of red had faded from the evening sky.

Satisfied that no one would see or hear him, Pat reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small rectangular object only a little larger than two matchbooks placed end to end. He flipped open the cover, revealing a small screen that lit up with a series of odd symbols as he pressed a series of buttons. Then it cleared.

Silver eyes in a face covered with short grey fur looked out at him.

“Scathach,” said Pat, saluting with his right fist over his heart. “Vannaks Seerid bhannak.”

“And to you, Pat,” said a voice filled with strange undertones. “I wasn‘t expecting you to call - has something happened?”

“No and yes,” he answered. “More like a peculiar development.”

“Oh?”

“Mr. Morton has discovered that he has a biological relationship with Admiral Nelson. They’re second cousins.”

The figure on the screen scrunched her eyes closed and sighed.

Obviously not the end…