In the real world of our universe, Commander William Anderson commanded the USS Nautilus during her historic polar explorations in 1958. However, in working out my timeline for the Cross-Currents series, it became obvious that in this AU world it would have been Commander Harriman Nelson who was skipper of Nautilus that year. It just worked out that way - but I liked the idea so much I kept it. This story was inspired by that idea. My apologies to Commander Anderson, but then that’s the perils of AU fiction. The Ocean Dancer is a fictional ship, but was inspired by a combination of Jacques Cousteau’s Calypso and the Greenpeace ship Rainbow Warrior. This story takes place about nine months before Rapture of the Deep, and in the timeline for my universe, just after the episode The Sky Is Falling and about a month before the events in Submarine Sunk Here.

Rite of Passage

by Storm

Ice.

As far as the eye could see to the north, the surface of the sea was covered by a frozen, trackless desert, highlighted by the reflection of light off the distant ice sheet. Admiral Harriman Nelson stood bundled up on the bridge of the Seaview as she wallowed slowly on the surface in a sullen swell of the Bering Strait along the southern edge of the Arctic ice pack, just northeast of Little Diomede Island. Seaview’s captain, Lee Crane, stood beside him, binoculars trained on the edge of the ice sheet. Two lookouts similarly equipped shared the small space with them.

“Nasty looking stuff,” Crane commented to no one in particular. And it was. Unlike the pristine white ice on the Atlantic side of the Arctic ice sheet that Crane was familiar with, much of the ice here in the Bering Strait was streaked with brown and grey. His discerning eye even picked out chunks in the sea surrounding Seaview that were almost black in color - indicative of a very heavy sediment load picked up either on land or in the shallow water of near shore. He shivered at the thought. The water here was far too shallow for his liking; far too shallow for a submarine the size of Seaview to even comfortably submerge, giving him serious misgivings about trying to slip her under the ice for a polar passage. Personally, he would have preferred to wait for this transit until late summer when the ice would be at its minimum, not mid-March when the opposite was true. “Did it look this nasty when you took the Nautilus through here back in ‘58?”

“It was much worse,” responded Nelson. “We had to turn back on our first attempt for an Arctic passage. But no one knew much about polar transits then - it had never been done before and these waters were pretty much uncharted. We preferred to be safe rather than sorry and risk losing the boat.”

Crane sighed, drawing Nelson’s attention to him. At the Admiral’s questioning look, he smiled crookedly and asked, “When you were designing Seaview, did it ever occur to you that she’d be too wide to take through the Panama Canal?”

Nelson gave a throaty chuckle. “Only after it became obvious that she’d have to be the biggest sub in the world to accomplish everything I needed and wanted her to. By then it was too late to redesign and build a smaller boat.”

Crane shook his head. “Even the Lafayette class boomers are two hundred feet shorter.”

“I’ve noticed you seem to like the extra headroom,” was the droll rejoinder.

“Touché,” grinned Crane. “I must admit that extra six inches or so per deck does make a difference.”

“Possible only because the inner hull has a forty foot diameter,” was the smug reply.

Waving a hand at the edge of the ice sheet in front of them, Crane’s expression turned dour again. “Right now it’s not the inner diameter that has me worried. It’s the ninety-five feet from the top of the sail to the keel that’s keeping me up at night. If it hadn‘t been such a mild winter with thinner than normal ice, and a favorable wind pushing the ice pack so far north, I wouldn‘t even think about attempting a passage this early. We‘d be going the long way around - south around Cape Horn.”

Now it was Nelson’s turn to sigh. “I’ll admit that there have been occasions when I wish I’d built her smaller, but…” He shrugged and leaned closer to drop his voice before continuing. “It was the only way to get everything I wanted and satisfy some of my, shall I say, silent partners who wanted a warship instead of a research sub. And after what happened to the Ocean Dancer I must admit that I wanted her able to defend herself as well.”

“Ocean Dancer?” He gave Nelson a puzzled look, but lowered his voice to match the Admiral’s so the lookouts couldn‘t overhear. “Wasn’t that an accident?”

“No.” Nelson’s look became hard and distant. “She was torpedoed in the middle of the night when most of the science personnel were asleep. The crew and staff never had a chance. I lost some good friends that night.” Clenching his fist, he struck it against the edge of the sail. “I swore that Seaview would be able to fight back. Another reason why I chose a submarine over a surface vessel - it’s a lot easier to conceal armament in a sub. Not to mention evading your enemies.” The thump of his fist had drawn startled glances from the lookouts, though he’d continued speaking low enough that they couldn’t hear his words. After a quick shared look both men turned their attention back to the sea around the boat and moved away as much as they could to give the two officers privacy.

Crane’s face took on a thoughtful look. “I’d wondered why you armed Seaview, why you agreed to the peculiar arrangement you have with the government over the boat’s status.” He paused to raise the binoculars to study a chunk of ice that had appeared to be moving towards Seaview, then leaned over to the bridge intercom to order a small course change. Returning to the conversation he continued. “I had heard some rumors that what happened to Ocean Dancer that it wasn’t an accident. But the talk died away and the official cause was ruled accidental. Do you know who did it?”

“Not for sure, though I have strong suspicions.” The ice in Nelson’s eyes was far colder that the Arctic ice that loomed on the horizon. “Certain business interests in collusion with certain corrupt governments.”

“Ah.” From the steel in Nelson’s voice Crane was pretty sure he knew who Nelson was talking about and had to agree that the parties were perfectly capable of such cold blooded murder. They’d tried on a couple of occasions to sink Seaview, had in fact had a hand in the murder of John Phillips, Seaview’s first captain. “That makes several things make a lot more sense to me. Is that why you wanted me to stay on as Seaview’s captain? Because I‘d encountered these people before and knew just what they were?”

“One of the reasons, Lee. John, God rest his soul, was a good friend and a decent sub driver, but he lacked your instincts for survival in out of the ordinary circumstances. I’d wanted you from the beginning for Seaview, but you weren’t available. I just wish it hadn’t taken such extreme circumstances to get the Navy to let you go.”

“One reason? What were the others?” Crane’s forehead was furrowed in a perplexed expression as he momentarily focused his full attention on the Admiral.

“The Flying Sub. John was never very comfortable with the concept. I knew you’d fall in love with her. And you already had a pilot‘s license.” Nelson sighed. “John also didn’t react well to Chip taking over the Sojourner project and getting so involved with it, even though Chip never shirked his duties as Seaview’s XO. It caused some friction between them. If John hadn’t been killed I think I would have had to replace him fairly soon anyway.” He paused and looked down at his gloved hands. “You know I offered the captain’s job to Chip first and he turned it down.”

Crane nodded. “He told me. He also told me why he turned it down. At the time I thought he was just being timid, but I’ve come to realize he made a very smart decision in recognizing that he wasn’t ready yet.” Now it’s was Crane’s turn to pause. “I think that now he would be much better prepared to take command.”

Flashing his captain a wry smile, Nelson agreed. “I do too, but I hope that’s not a change we ever have to make under similar circumstances again.”

Snorting, Crane nodded emphatic assent. “You and me both, Admiral, you and me both.”

The click of the intercom interrupted them. “Captain, we’ve reached our dive coordinates,” came Lt. Bishop’s voice.

Leaning over, Crane thumbed the speaker mike. “Very good, Mr. Bishop. Stand by to dive on my command.”

“Aye, sir,” came the too crisp reply, causing a momentary frown to cross the Captain’s face.

At Nelson’s raised eyebrow, Crane muttered in a low voice, “He still resents Chip turning down the Captain’s job because he really wanted to be XO.”

Now it was Nelson’s turn to snort. “Wouldn’t have happened. While John and I didn’t see eye to eye on some things, he was a pretty good judge of basic character and abilities. He’d already spoken to me about Bishop. Said he had an attitude problem and that if he couldn’t get a handle on it we’d be better off to replace him. If Chip had taken the promotion, my intention was to bring in a new XO. And if Bishop had given me any static over it, he’d have been replaced as well. He hasn’t been smart enough to realize that he’s been on probation - once we get back to Santa Barbara, if you’ve no objections, I’d just as soon replace him.”

“Unfortunately,” sighed Crane, “I can’t disagree. In fact, I’d thought about bringing the subject up at the next personnel review. He just doesn’t seem to be adjusting to the current command structure. Not to mention that he sucked up a little too closely to Admiral Tobin on that little… adventure… a few days back.”

Nelson grinned at him. “Our alien experience you mean? I noticed that myself. If that were the only boneheaded stunt he’d ever pulled, I might be inclined to let it slide, though I’d want to keep a very close eye on him.” Looking more closely at Crane’s still troubled expression, Nelson commented, “It’s not just Bishop that’s bothering you about that encounter, is it?”

“No,” admitted Crane, “At the time what we did just seemed so, so…”

“Right?” finished Nelson.

“Yeah. But now...” Crane trailed off into a troubled silence.

“Now, you’re wondering if we did what was really the best for earth and humanity?”

“Something like that,” admitted Crane.

Shrugging, Nelson turned his gaze out to the icy horizon. “I like to think that we did, Lee. Realistically, we wouldn’t have stood much of a chance against the kind of technology that ship represented if it had come down to a shooting war. If it was a test and not a real emergency, I can only hope that we at least demonstrated that humanity has the potential to peacefully coexist with the interstellar community.”

“There is that,” noted Crane. “It’s given me some nightmares the last few days, thinking about just how much could have gone wrong.”

“You aren’t the only one,” said Nelson softly, “When the very fate of the world may be riding on your judgment call, it can get pretty scary.”

Crane looked askance at him, eyes widening at the admission. “You certainly didn’t show any uncertainty during the crisis.”

“Well, I knew if I did, Tobin might just gain the upper hand - and then we would have all been very dead. Of that much I was absolutely certain,” rejoined Nelson dryly.

“Think Admiral Tobin will try to do anything about it? You did make him look like an idiot, after all.”

“I made him look like an idiot?” Nelson threw back his head and laughed, drawing quick glances from the lookouts. “I’m not the one who locked him in the cabin with me and then pretended the lock had malfunctioned. That was a stroke of genius, by the way. You’d best watch your back as well. I’ve known Tobin since the Academy - he was a certifiable bastard then and he hasn’t improved with age.”

“I’ll certainly bear that in mind, Admiral. Back to the subject of Bishop - I take it we’re agreed that as soon as we get back to Santa Barbara we’ll let him go?”

“It seems best,” said Nelson with a curt nod of his head. “Next time I talk to Angie, I’ll have her pull out the applications files and see if there are any qualified officers available or if we‘ll need to recruit.”

“In the meantime, it’s time to go below. After you, Admiral.” Standing aside to let Nelson precede him, Crane then lifted his voice and commanded, “Lookouts below, clear the bridge and prepare to dive.” The two lookouts scurried after the Admiral, and with a final look around, the captain followed them below, securing the hatch behind himself.

Once in the control room, Crane swiftly shed his cold weather gear, placing them in the hands of a waiting seaman who rapidly hustled away with his burden. Giving a glance around the compartment, he spoke. “Mr. Bishop, dive the boat.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” was the rapid reply, followed by Bishop picking up the mike. His strident, “Prepare to dive,” echoed through the vessel. As the stations reported back, Bishop repeated their status to Crane. It was only a matter of moments before all stations had reported in that all was ready.

“Very well, Mr. Bishop. Dive the boat,” commanded Crane, nodding to Bishop.

Pressing the diving alarm, it’s strident ‘oogah, oogah’ reverberated through the boat, giving warning of the impending maneuver. Bishop then raised the mike to his lips. The command, “Dive, dive, dive,” resounded through the corridors of the ship, followed almost immediately by a subtle shift as the huge sub tilted ever so slightly to begin her downward passage. In these shallow waters - less than three hundred feet - it was a process that must be done with care; otherwise they would find themselves unceremoniously plowing up the mud on the bottom of the sea floor.

Leveling out sixty feet above the bottom, Seaview cautiously continued her northward advance, drawing ever closer to the unbroken edge of the ice pack. The color of the water suddenly deepened as she passed under the edge of the ice, transiting into shadow, as the ping of her ice detector began to sing a duet with her fathometer.

It was very tight quarters for a vessel the size of Seaview. With sixty feet of water below her keel, that left only a little over one hundred feet above to the bottom of the ice. It was enough, just barely, so long as she did not encounter a pressure ridge. It was with agonizing slowness the undersea valley the boat was following began to deepen, widening the margin for error.

Nelson stood at the windows in the bow, his ‘front porch’ as the crew called it, looking out at the twilight sea. Normally at this shallow a depth the waters would be flooded with light, but here under the ice was a different world, lit by the sun only through cracks and holes in the covering of ice. He kept an ear crocked to the intercom, listening to commands being passed by Lt. Bishop and sighed again as he sipped at a cup of coffee.

Guess I’m going to have to rethink my timetable for building a second boat, he thought glumly to himself. I need Chip to command the new one, but since we have to replace Bishop, that’s going to throw a real kink in the works. First I’ll have to find somebody to replace Chip - and that’s not going to be easy. He and Lee work so well together that I hate to break up the team. In fact I might be better off to simply find a second command crew and keep Chip here - though if he wants command I’ll be happy to give it to him. And therein lay the rub. Nelson wasn’t one hundred percent certain what the problem was, but he’d noticed that while still in the Navy Morton had on more than one occasion let the opportunity for advancement to command slip by. It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable - he’d already proven that he was on several occasions. Nor was it a lack of courage - he’d proven himself there as well. And it certainly wasn’t a lack of intelligence, for there was a razor sharp mind behind the bland exterior. No, it was something more subtle than that - and while Nelson wasn’t sure, he had a feeling he knew what the problem was, because it was something he’d wrestled with himself over the years - something they’d all faced just two months earlier when they stood on the brink of nuclear war. He’d seen it clearly in Morton’s eyes then.

Morality. The line between self defense and murder. Chip Morton didn’t want to be responsible for killing anybody - not even his enemies - unless there was absolutely no other choice.

Oh, Morton would follow orders and do it if he saw there was no other option, but it had begun to be obvious to the Admiral that his XO very much preferred the scientific side of his duties to the military ones. He smiled wryly - he would have preferred that Seaview be tasked only for research himself. Perhaps, he reflected, that was why Morton seemed so intent on carving out a niche for himself with Sojourner - she was pretty useless for anything except oceanographic research - and unarmed to boot. With her Chip would never face the decision of whether or not to shoot because she simply couldn’t.

A throat cleared behind him; Nelson recognized it as being the Chief of the Boat, Curly Jones.

“Yes, Chief?”

“Clark’s been doing some routine maintenance on the diving bell and thinks we got some intermittent electrical problems. Until he gets the problem chased down the bell is out of commission.”

Nelson sighed. “Very well, Chief. I don’t expect we’ll be needing the diving bell under the ice anyway. Is that the only problem?”

“Well...” From Curly’s hesitation Nelson surmised the other problem was either something very personal or involved one of the officers. If it was the latter, the odds were better than even that it concerned Bishop. It almost always did lately.

“If it’s something personal…?” Nelson let the statement trail off into a question. Chief Jones quick shake of the head prompted what was very nearly a groan. “So what’s Bishop done this time, Curly?”

Jones gave the Admiral a wan smile. “He’s been stepping over the bounds of his duties again, sir. Going behind Mr. Morton’s back and picking on some of the men for stuff that’s pretty petty. I mean, if Mr. Morton hasn’t seen fit to get on ’em about, then it’s not something to worry about, right?”

“Who’s the victim this time?”

“Seamen Clark and Howard.”

“Two of the electricians? What the hell for?” Nelson was familiar with both men - they’d been with the Institute since he first started construction on Seaview and they were both reliable men.

“I really dunno, Admiral. But it’s starting to affect Clark’s performance on the job. He’s turning into a real klutz when Lt. Bishop’s around. And that just gives the Lieutenant an excuse to rag him more. Somebody’s gotta put a stop to it or he’s gonna ruin a good electrician.”

“Have you gone to the Captain with this?”

“Yessir. And I know the Skipper sat Lt. Bishop down and tried to talk to him, but I have a feeling he coulda gotten more response talking to the bulkheads.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, Chief, Captain Crane and I have spoken some about this. It’s pretty clear that Mr. Bishop isn’t fitting in with the new command team, so we’ve decided that once we get back to Santa Barbara he’ll be replaced.”

The burly COB’s face lit up. “No kiddin’, sir?” The man abruptly blushed at having revealed glee at the news of the officer’s impending departure, but it only confirmed Nelson’s worst fears about Bishop’s behavior. Curly Jones had served with Nelson on the Nautilus - for him to take so strident a dislike to a person spoke volumes about that individual’s lack of ability and personality. The additional fact that Jones offered no immediate apology for his outburst was even more damming.

“If that’s all, Chief?” Nelson certainly hoped so.

“Yessir, it is.” Jones gave the Admiral a crisp salute, drawing a chuckle as Nelson returned it. A parade ground about face left Nelson with a wide grin as the COB disappeared back into the bowels of the boat. Jones was normally never so formal - not even when they’d still been in the Navy. This couldn’t help but be his way of poking fun at a certain prick of a lieutenant in a fashion that no one but the two of them would recognize as insolent.

He always knows how to lighten any situation, thought Nelson. God, but if anything ever happens to him, I don’t know how we’ll ever replace him. And I certainly needed cheering up - brooding about problems won’t get them solved.

Shaking his head, Nelson turned back to the windows and the icy vista beyond. It was shaping up to be an interesting voyage, over and above the fact that this was the first time they would be taking Seaview under the ice to make a polar crossing. He just hoped they survived the ice - and themselves.

The gloom outside deepened. Nelson cast an eye onto the charts he had laid out on the table at one side of the observation deck. They were starting to reach deeper water now - that should be a big relief to all hands in general and Lee Crane in particular. As if on cue the intercom crackled with the command to engineering to increase speed. Within seconds the deck beneath his feet pulsed to a more energized rhythm, indicating that their speed was increasing. They wouldn’t run flat out - the water was still not nearly deep enough for that - but half ahead would get them into the Arctic Ocean proper in a matter of hours. It would also shortly put them across the Arctic Circle.

He smiled suddenly in anticipation, gloomy thoughts of Bishop pushed aside. It was almost time for the Blue Nose ceremony to begin, to initiate those unfortunate members of the crew who’d never crossed the Arctic Circle before. There had been a certain glee in the preparations that had begun before they’d ever left Santa Barbara, for one of the men aboard who’d be an initiate this time around was the XO, Chip Morton. Nelson grinned broadly as he recalled the scene in Angie’s office when a check of personnel records revealed the startling fact.

“Admiral?” Angie had stuck her head around the door of his office as he and Crane were going over some last minute details prior to embarkation.

He had looked up, somewhat annoyed at the interruption, but knowing Angie wouldn’t disturb them without good reason. “Yes?” he said.

“Um, Captain Crane asked me to go over the personnel files and see who wasn’t a Blue Nose already so they could print up the certificates and… well, see for yourself.” She’d thrust a file at them and fled, trembling with what he’d later discovered was barely suppressed laughter. He and Crane had looked at each other in bafflement until he had flipped open the cover to find that it was Morton’s personnel file. Crane had comprehended immediately and burst into laughter. It had provided Nelson with a good chuckle as well. Usually it was Morton who made up the list for such ceremonies, but as they were somewhat pressed for time, Crane had, without telling the XO, delegated the task to Angie. Otherwise, they both knew, Morton would have never revealed the fact, something confirmed when the second day out of port he’d finally given Crane a list - and his own name wasn’t on it.

They’d concealed from Morton the fact that they knew he’d never been across the Arctic Circle, even though the last boat he’d served on as XO had done a polar crossing during his tour of duty. What no one had realized until Angie spotted it in his file was that for that particular voyage Morton had been in the hospital recovering from a car wreck. When he’d been fit to rejoin the boat some weeks later he’d flown from Pearl Harbor to San Francisco thence to the East Coast, rejoining his crew in New London. He’d not served on a boat before or since that had gone to the Arctic.

A thump reverberated through the boat, bring the Admiral out of his reverie. Ordinarily Nelson would have been off like a shot in search of the problem, but this time he knew already what had happened. Seaview had just tripped over the Arctic Circle - and the fun was about to begin. He picked up his coffee and headed to the control room.

He arrived just as King Neptune’s personal representative, Davy Jones, made a grand entrance through the aft control room hatch.

“What be this ship and who be the master? What do ye here in the Realm of the Polar Bear?” cried the figure, who was dressed in an old fashioned officer’s coat from somewhere in the early part of the last century, complete with hat and sword. The fact that is was actually Lieutenant O’Brien fooled no one, but the crew fell eagerly into the fantasy that was beginning to unfold.

Crane stepped up to play his part. “I’m Captain Lee Crane and this is the submarine Seaview. We come in peace, Davy Jones.”

‘Davy Jones’ pretended to peer closely at him. “Aye, Captain, I recognize ye now. Ye’ve been here before and properly initiated. But this boat,” he waved a hand around to indicate the Seaview, “has not.”

“No, sir. This is Seaview’s first passage across the Arctic.”

“Humph.” O’Brien sounded so much like Nelson that there were titters from around the control room and even Nelson had to smile. “And how many of ye crew haven’t either, Captain?”

Crane pretended to think on the matter. “At least eight that I know of.” Actually the number was nine, counting Morton, but they weren’t quite ready yet to let the XO know they were on to him.

“I’ll be reporting this to his majesty, King Neptune. Prepare yerselves for his Grand Gloriousness!” With that proclamation, ‘Davy Jones’ retreated out of the control room back the way he came.

Nelson stepped forward. “I guess we’d best be preparing to welcome King Neptune aboard, then. Pipe the off duty hands and all non Blue Noses to the crew’s mess.” Crane nodded and picked up the mike. As Crane made the formal announcement, Nelson reached over and clapped a hand on the XO’s shoulder. “Chip, I need you to come with me.”

Morton turned startled eyes to him. “But, sir…” He trailed off in confusion, but then the beginning of a suspicious glimmer formed in his eyes and he ducked his head. “Am I caught?” he asked in a low voice.

Nelson chuckled. “I’m afraid so, lad. You ought to have known that Neptune always gets his due, one way or another.”

Sighing, Morton could only nod. “So who’s playing my part?”

“Doctor Walker.”

“I guess he does have the experience given how often he’s been to the Arctic.”

“I would say so, Chip. He was along as Doctor Lyon’s assistant when Nautilus made her first transit of the pole.”

“I suppose I have to go through with it then.” Morton looked distinctly unhappy at the prospect as he let Nelson propel him along towards the crew’s mess.

Laughing quietly, Nelson told him, “I expect they won’t be too hard on you - after all, you are the XO - and you have a reputation for getting even.”

Brightening, Morton nodded. “You’re right, sir. And the first person on my list is a certain Lee Crane.”

“You think he’s responsible?”

“Who else would have the nerve?” asked Morton in a logical tone.

Nelson wasn’t about to admit that he too, had had a hand in events - though he strongly suspected that Morton probably had that figured out already. And if he hadn’t yet, well, he would. Morton was no dummy. With a mental grin the Admiral reflected that there were advantages to being the guy who signed everyone’s paycheck. It made subordinates much more circumspect in their retaliation.

It was only a short distance from the control room down to the crew’s mess. With the Admiral’s hand resting on his shoulder, there was no opportunity for Morton to claim duty and slip away. On the way they were joined by others in the crew who were to be initiated, along with their friends and watch-mates. The atmosphere filling the narrow passages of the submarine, while far more hushed than something similar on a surface vessel would be, could only be described as festive. Sailors in general - and submariners in particular - are very fond of their traditions.

At the entrance to the ‘Throne Room’ someone handed Nelson an old fashioned officer’s hat, complete with fluffy feathers, along with an archaic sword. Sashes, bandanas, eye patches, fake beards, swords, grass skirts, necklaces and earrings appeared for the rest of the celebrants. A pot of blue paint was handed out and the five seamen and three petty officers who were to be initiated stoically suffered the indignity of having their noses painted blue by their shipmates. When the pot was finally passed with great dignity to the officers, it was Seaview’s own captain, Lee Crane, who took it - and who proceeded to paint his XO’s nose a dark blue.

The XO in question glared at his captain during the process, his eyes like pale blue ice, while the Admiral was practically biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing at Morton’s expression. Once finished, Crane handed the pot of paint back to a lieutenant with a flourish and a grin. Another officer handed the captain his hat and sword. Once he’d settled the hat on his head and buckled on the sword, the party was ready to present itself to his Royal Majesty.

The crew’s mess had been turned into a Royal Throne Room, draped with ‘seaweed’, fishing nets and glass floats, along with garlands of seashells and paper flowers. Occupying the center of the space was a ‘golden’ throne on a raised dais, on which was seated a large man with a gray beard, dressed in a toga-like garment, with a many pointed gold crown on his head. Instead of a scepter, he held a golden trident in his right hand - the Sovereign of the Ocean Realm himself, Neptune, King of the Seven Seas. The fantastically dressed members Royal Court sat or stood around their liege, attention centered on the entering crewmen, particularly the ‘applicants’.

“Your Majesty, welcome aboard the Seaview,” said Nelson, stepping forward and giving an elaborate bow as he doffed his hat.

“Ah, Admiral Nelson, we meet again. Is this extraordinary vessel yours?” asked ‘Neptune’, stroking his beard - a real one, not the yarn mop fake the crew usually used.

“Indeed she is, your Majesty.” Nelson was grinning broadly as he straightened.

“So, Admiral, what brings ye to the Realm of the Polar Bear and Ice?”

“Merely passing through, your Majesty, bound for the Atlantic.”

“I see.” ‘Neptune’ stroked his beard again. “And are all of your crew properly initiated into the Order of the Bluenose, that they might pass?”

Nelson pretended to sigh. “I’m afraid not, your Majesty.”

“Hmmm. A serious infraction, Admiral. Of course these ones must be tested to see if they are worthy.”

“Indeed, your Majesty. We’ve brought them here for your inspection.”

“Ah. Most thoughtful, Admiral. Do you have a list of names?” At Nelson’s nod ‘Neptune’ beckoned to one of his court. A black man wearing a white curly wig and a black robe in caricature of a British barrister stepped up. “Give the list to the Royal Lawyer that he may inspect it and call for the supplicants,” was the Monarch’s command.

Nelson produced a rolled up parchment that was tied with a blue ribbon and handed it to the Royal Lawyer, who proceeded to unroll it and call out the nine names listed - starting with Lt. Commander Charles Phillip Morton. With a grimace, Morton stepped forward to stand in front of Neptune, followed by the others on the list, until all nine stood in a semi-circle in front of the Royal presence. While the King mock glared at them, several members of the Royal Court came down for a closer inspection, poking and prodding at their unfortunate shipmates.

The King shook his head in mock sorrow. “A motley lot, Admiral, a motley lot indeed.”

Shrugging, Nelson responded, “Well, you know how it is, your Majesty; it’s just tough to get good help these days.” Morton cut his eyes sideways with a glare that would have had most of the crew trembling in their shoes, but the Admiral was made of sterner stuff.

The Monarch of the Seas sighed. “So true, so true. However,” he raised a hand in a regal gesture, “tested they must be. Let the Ceremony begin with the kissing of the Royal Baby.”

The Royal Court parted, making way for the Applicants to proceed to another chair sitting behind and below Neptune’s throne. In it sat the Royal Baby, dressed in a far too small baby blue tee shirt that barely covered his nipples and a folded sheet for a diaper that didn‘t even begin to cover his more than ample belly. The expanse of belly in question - belonging to one of the ship’s cooks - had been quite liberally smeared with a mixture of fuel oil and graphite. Beginning with the most junior of the nine, each was escorted forward and as they bent to give the Belly a kiss, received help from the members of the Royal Court to make sure that it was a very effective kiss. Each man came back up looking like he’d been dunked in a bowl of tar. Including Lt. Commander Morton. Especially Lt. Commander Morton, since it was his captain who gave him the extra incentive.

Once again the nine stood in a semicircle in front of the throne.

‘Neptune’ looked them up and down, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Finally, after several moments of hushed anticipation, he shook his head. “I believe,” he said, “that we must send them through the Belly of the Bear.”

The Royal Court gave a gleeful murmur and again parted, this time revealing a large tub full of an evil looking, rancid smelling, thick, greenish brown liquid. Odd, unidentifiable objects floated in it. It looked like something a Polar Bear might have regurgitated and the Applicants stared at it in appalled fascination.

“Strip and dip,” ordered the King with what could only be described as a wicked smile.

So they did, all the way down to their skivvies. As each man took the plunge and came up looking like he’d been puked up by something monstrous, he was greeting with approval by the court and his shipmates. Until once again the nine stood before the Monarch of the Seas, dripping slimy goo.

The King leaned back in his ‘throne’, his smile once more benign. “I do believe, Admiral Nelson, that all of them have successfully completed their trials. However, I do believe one task remains…” Neptune arched an eyebrow at them.

Crane quietly coughed to get the Monarch’s attention. “We don’t have any nearby leads to surface in…”

“That won’t be necessary, Captain.” Morton’s voice cut Crane off.

Looking askance at the XO, Crane blurted out, “Chip, uh, you can’t paint the Seaview’s bow blue while we’re submerged. The water’s too cold to go out in just your skivvies.”

Morton silently held out his hand to the Royal Court member who held the can of blue paint and a large brush. The astonished man gave the captain a ‘well, what else can I do look’ and handed them to the XO. Turning on his heel with parade ground precision, Morton marched out of the throne room, headed towards the bow of the boat.

After looking at each other in stunned disbelief for a few seconds, the officers and crew, along with the entire Royal Court right down to King Neptune, found themselves following, curious and a bit apprehensive. Ignoring them, the XO marched through the corridors of the boat, paint can and brush in hand, wearing nothing but his skivvies and a layer of dripping slime. The duty watch stared in disbelief as he passed through the boat, followed by the bizarre parade.

Morton’s march ended on the observation deck, in front of Seaview’s windows. As everyone who could crowd into the hatchway peered in, Morton took the brush and dipped it in the can of paint, then carefully painted a half circle on each side of the divider between the two center windows. As his audience gaped in astonishment, he then proceeded to painstakingly fill in the two halves so that there was a large blue circle painted on the inside of the boat’s windows.

When he was finished, he handed the brush and can to Crane and snapped him a salute. Making a parade ground about face, Morton marched briskly back towards the hatch; the crowd parted without a word to let him through. The only noise was the sound of his bare feet slapping on the deck and the occasional soft spat as globs of goo fell from his body, leaving behind a slimy trail that led in the direction of his cabin.

Nelson and Crane traded looks.

“I do believe he’s pissed,” murmured the Admiral.

“Maybe we should make ourselves scarce for a while?” suggested the captain.

“That,” commented ‘Neptune’, having come forward to examine the blue circle, “might be a wise move.”

“What about that?” Nelson indicated the blue circle. “That’s not exactly the traditional method for a vessel’s first circle crossing.”

‘Neptune’ looked at him askance, eyebrows arched. “It’s a blue circle and it’s on the front end of the boat. And it can be seen in the water. If you think I’m going to ask Morton for more - in the mood he’s in - you’re nuts.”

Nelson gave the circle another look and briefly contemplated the Sea King‘s reasoning before slowly nodding. “If it’s good enough for Neptune, it’s good enough for me. Let‘s get back and finish the party.”

There were solemn nods of agreement from everyone.

It took a few moments to get all of the celebrants rounded up and turned around to head back down to the crew’s mess. There were whispers of discontent on the way, for it was considered bad luck for anyone to bolt a traditional ceremony.

They flowed back into the throne room - and stopped dead. Morton was there, waiting on them. He hadn’t abandoned the rite of crossing after all, only stopped long enough at his cabin to pick up a towel and wipe some of the worst of the goo off. A huge sigh of relief filled the corridors. Tradition was preserved - along with luck.

It was one hell of a party.

**********

Epilog - ten days later

He squirmed in his bunk, coming up from a deep sleep. Something wasn’t quite right. Snapping abruptly to full wakefulness, he stretched out his senses to check on the Seaview. Nothing. There were no odd noises or motions - Seaview was securely moored at her berth in an American sub base in Scotland, so whatever had awakened him wasn’t the boat. He stretched - and realized that his skin was crackling.

What the hell? He reached out and snapped on the bunk light. Gazing down at his chest and arms he could see that his skin looked - and felt - glazed over. Like a donut. Like a glazed donut.

Realization dawned. Powdered sugar in his sheets. Only one man would have the nerve.

Captain Crane’s outraged bellow reverberated through the corridors of the boat.

*********

In London, Chip Morton stirred from sleep, his internal clock still on boat time. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed, he sat up. Lee Crane ought to be waking up about now. And finding the little present he’d left behind before taking off on a three day leave. Chip smiled at the thought. It was a most evil smile.

Revenge could be so sweet.

END

Author’s note: I am quite aware that in the series that Seaview was supposed to have gone to the Arctic in the pilot episode, Eleven Days to Zero. This being AU and not having been satisfied with the way the episode unfolded - I changed it. In this universe the events following Captain Philip’s murder took place in Antarctica, not the Arctic. There were several reasons for me to make this change. First, during the Cold War, the Arctic was one of the most closely scrutinized places on the planet, since it was where the US and Soviet Union shared a border. I just can’t see a plot like the one in the episode taking place right under everyone’s nose. Especially since the villains had to have a base where they could keep a plane… Speaking of planes, if the whole thing took place in the Arctic, why send for a submarine in the first place? The team could have flown in from the nearest US military base. Then there’s the time factor. Why eleven days? Seaview wouldn’t need eleven days to get to the Arctic from Santa Barbara, but that is just about the right amount of time for a submarine to make a speed run to Antarctica from the US west coast. Also, there are parts of Antarctica that actually extend beyond the Antarctic Circle, not just the ice shelves, but the continent itself. There is also the fact that the South Magnetic Pole is just offshore of Antarctica, lying almost on the Antarctic Circle. A much more logical - not to mention unguarded - target if one wished to wreak global havoc. An ice shelf over shallow water would also account for the need to take the Sno-Cat, since the probability increases dramatically that Seaview wouldn’t be able to take them all the way in to their destination. All of this means that Seaview could have gone to Antarctica - and never crossed the Antarctic Circle. Anyone not a Bluenose - stayed that way. Additionally, it is appears to be late summer or early fall in the California scenes of the episode - which means that it was the same season in the Arctic as well. Lots of open water and relatively warm temperatures in the Arctic that time of year. But with the seasons reversed in the Southern Hemisphere, that would make it late winter/early spring in Antarctica, which fits much better with the bundled up, snowy sequences of their destination. Besides, it makes for a better story.

Storm