A Minor Inconvenience

By Carol Foss

( with apologies to ‘The Private War of Major Benson’)

The rain splattered against the window as the light shone from inside the Institute apartment. It was well after midnight and while Seaview was ‘tucked in’ for the night at her home base, her owner, captain, and executive officer were not.

Sudden assignments were nothing new, but this situation was a little different. Lee Crane and Chip Morton finished helping their boss pack.

" I really do appreciate this, gentlemen," Admiral Nelson closed the latch on his suitcase , " but I’m sure it will only be a minor inconvenience to you both."

" It’s a pleasure, sir," Chip lied through his smile, " how often do I get a chance to spend time in Connecticut? People pay good money just to visit the place in Autumn."

"Well, remember, the Junior ROTC midshipmen are technically children, even if they’re only just a few years away from college. So, don’t bellow too loudly!" Nelson laughed. Ahh, it was good of Chip to pitch in, Nelson mused, Better him than me.

Harriman had only received the call from Edith an hour ago, just as he was preparing for a flight to a Washington gala. She’d almost begged. It seemed she had a friend on staff at a secondary school who needed a liaison officer to fill in for their regular ROTC instructor until a permanent replacement could be found. And Edith had promised that her big brother couldn’t possibly let them down. She’s getting a bit lenient with my services, he grinned to himself, though proud of his ‘little’ sister for her sheer tenacity.

"And Lee," Nelson continued, "don’t forget to feed my specimens. That’s really all there is too it, all the aquariums have the new auto oxygenation-gas-waste filtration system, so you won’t even get your hands wet."

"But I thought you said ‘Spotty’ needed to be petted twice a day."

"Well, she likes it, but I didn’t want to pressure you. She is a squid after all. And I know you must be a little uneasy around them after having been almost squished to death by one, even if it was a while ago," Nelson teased.

"Admiral, I’ll be happy to pet the little monster, as long as she stays eight inches long," Lee laughed, "and behind glass".

"Admiral," Angie called from the bedroom doorway, " the taxi is here. Are you sure you don’t want your limo sent for?"

"Positive. Eats the gas. I’d take my Volkswagen itself, but don’t want to entrust her to the airport parking lot for a month. Rev her up for me, now and then, okay Lee? I don’t even know if the red bug still runs! It’s been, how long? More than eighteen months since I drove her?"

"Longer than that, I’m afraid, sir," Morton grinned. It was more like four years since the admiral had driven anything himself, let alone his prize ‘classic’ car. Classic? Chip thought asked himself, ironically, for the thing was rusted, worn out, and not worth one red dime. It had to be sheer sentiment that made the ‘old old man’ keep the, uh, ‘antique’.

"Well, gentlemen," Nelson continued, " take care of yourselves. Chip, good luck, and thank you. Lee, I’m sorry I need you have to keep ‘holding the bag’, but I need you here, just in case. You have full authority should any emergency arise. I’ll be staying at the Hilton for a week after the White House gala this weekend. Angie has phone links , if you need to get through to me."

Thunder boomed and a new wave of rain splattered the window.

"Going to be a bumpy flight if this doesn’t let up," Lee mused.

"Well, I’ll be sure to ask for a pillow to sit on," Nelson grinned.

***

Chip Morton took a deep lungful of fresh air in the morning mist. Ahhh, this Connecticut air tasted better than chocolate. Fresh unadulterated,uncirulated, unfiltered, unscrubbed air. Not cold, but brisk enough to make him grateful for his ‘Nelson issue’ jacket. Similar to old fashioned Naval ‘pea’coats, Nelson’s had a few inventive things, like bullet proofing, rain repellent, and battery operated ‘warming’ wiring. Better than an electric blanket.

He’d only packed a few essentials, but Angie must have tucked in a few extras, judging from the battered suitcase’s weight. He smiled to himself as he remembered Angie and Lee putting things together while he made his travel plans.Good friends were hard to find.

As he hailed a cab from the almost deserted local airport, he wondered about the sudden departure of Lt. Manners from the Willow’s Academy. There hadn’t been time to gather much info. Not even on the men he was soon to meet. Men? Well, Morton thought, I was only eighteen at Annapolis, these kids aren’t much younger. ROTC was a highly respected and legitimate officer’s training program. Junior ROTC couldn’t be that much different.

***

"So, the admiral’s gonna’ be stuck in Washington with a bunch of stuffed shirts?"Chief Sharkey commented as he set a stack of papers on Commander Lee Crane’s desk at the Nelson Institute.

If one could call it a desk, thought Sharkey.Looks like something thrown away from a flea market, he mused. The skipper’s office was little more than a storeroom, probably a former linen cupboard, with a teensy security-barred window that looked over the garbage bins. Even pipes lined the room. They were noisy too, as water and air mingled now and then, with the accompanying sound of clanking valves and a ‘ whooshing’ noise to boot.

Okay, so the small room had the heavy security status that Nelson insisted on, and Crane was hardly ever there, but still, the skipper didn’t even have a name plate on the desk, and the only other piece of furniture were a wastebasket, and a makeshift wall safe. It didn’t seem right. You’d think the boss could do better than this for the skipper. His second in command. His own best friend even! But the skipper didn’t seem to notice.

"I’m afraid he’ll be there for the entire weekend and into the next week, Sharkey. But try not to be too upset. Remember, the Admiral gets some of our research project funding from special interest groups, a lot of them fellow guests of the President. And remember our Naval Reserve status, so be careful of what you say," Crane ‘suggested’ with a grin.

"Aye, sir. Oh, uh, how’s the refit going?"

"What’s the matter Chief, miss keeping the crew in line with your firebrand tongue?" Crane was proud of Sharkey. Not only a top rate CPO, while all other hands had been dismissed for shore leave, he’d remained behind, unbidden, at the Nelson Institute to ‘catch up on a little paperwork’, he’d said. But it was a lame excuse. And Crane knew it.

"Well, skip, it’s just kind of hard letting those knuckleheads work on Seaview. I mean...I’d rather our own team did the job sir."

"The contract was signed by the Admiral himself, Chief...or would you like me to forward a formal complaint?" Crane asked with a smile. But he knew just how Sharkey felt. He’d be far more comfortable with his own men working on the old girl as well. Nelson probably felt the same, but the Newton Shipfitters Association had offered such a ‘good deal’ in cost and labor that it have been foolish to allow sentiment to sacrifice excellence.

The President’s gala weekend gathering was to include food, drink, music, glamour, and the nonstop clamor of idle talk that Nelson usually abhorred. Not that it wouldn’t be good for him, Lee thought. Nelson needed a little change once in a while, even if he had to put up with puffed up celebrities and politicians. The extended charity weekend was in all the news, and proceeds were to go to the newly formed Newton-Scott charity fund. With the famed Nelson there, the rest of the world wanted to follow. Nelson regularly attended society events as a matter of course for NIMR to remain visible and ‘pull in’ commercial projects. But he hadn’t really been looking forward to it.

Harry’s probably bored out of his wits just now, Lee thought as he glanced at another request for more toilet paper. Well, at least he won’t be wearied with the likes of this, Lee chuckled, or upset with the power failure.

Ordinarily, procurement was not on Crane’s agenda. Nelson’s secretarial pool usually took care of such mundane institute matters, but Katie was off to some seminar, and the rest of the pool were on vacation, except for Angie, whom, as executive secretary, had been ‘drafted’ for the duration to remain. There was no way Lee was going to leave her stuck all alone with this mess of paperwork.

***

Willows Academy was protected from nosey neighbors by a huge stone wall and plenty of acreage. Morton adjusted his uniform and opened the squeaky iron gate. Strange that there was no one there at the ‘gatehouse’. This wasn’t a military secondary school, but even so, Chip was surprised at the lack of security. Chip scrutinized the property. Several brick buildings, a chapel, a breathtaking garden of flowering shrubs and vegetables, a rose garden, and several flowers vying with each other for prominence along the many pathways.

One such pathway led to the river-front. A few one and two person sailboats bobbed up and down at the wooden pier, while a pontoon boats and several pedal boats kept them company.

Off to the left, was a large flat area ideal for marching, or lawn sports. But no-one was in sight. Chip checked his notes, and set off to building 4, where he was to report in.

***

"Well then, I’ll fix it!" Crane slammed the phone down in Nelson’s office. He dragged a hand through his hair, and Angie knew from experience that this would not be a good time to talk to him about his long overdue library books.

"What is it Lee?"

"Let’s just say I’m not cut out to be a diplomat. I’m sorry Angie. I didn’t mean to disturb your work."

"Oh, it wasn’t all that much, thanks to all of your help. In fact, with the Admiral gone and the Seaview on hiatus, there isn’t really much more left to do around here, and I really did get caught up on some special things the Admiral wanted...what is it Lee? You look positively frazzled."

"Oh, it’s nothing really, just a burst water pipe in my ‘office’." Lee began to laugh. Everything was so much easier on Seaview. In the real world, getting the job done wasn’t so easy. " I don’t suppose you know any certified plumbers who’d like to work this weekend?" No, that would be too much to ask for. "Care to give me a hand?" he held up a soggy document in one hand, and a screwdriver in another.

"Well that all depends," Angie fluttered her eyelashes in a tease, "if it’s hazardous duty."

"Messy, but not hazardous..oh, " he noticed her smile and grinned back pausing, "though, it could be hazardous. I have a reputation to uphold you know."

***

Building 4 of Willows was a strong, well built building, but showing its age. There were rusted drains, and it looked like some roofing tiles were loose. Room 112, Morton checked his notes. There it was. He knocked. And waited. He tried again. No response. He slowly opened the door and entered the room.

It was a nice office. Spartan, immaculate. The desk was of heavy sculpted wood with a high polish. The bookcase behind the desk was neatly stocked with titles ranging from World History to Household Toilet Repair for Dummies.

He did have the time right, didn’t he? Chip checked his notes. He heard a giggle, and turned around. No-one there. Not even outside the door….

Chip returned to the office and sat down. The early afternoon sunshine was streaming through the bowed window and he suddenly felt weary. It had been a long overnight flight, with delays in his transfer in Atlanta, and he’d gotten scant sack time. He closed his eyes for a moment and grinned at the thought that Nelson would have been irate at the lack of greeting. His thoughts drifted and he was soon dozing.

"Skipper? Miss Angie?" Sharkey called out. The Institute sure seemed deserted Without the Admiral here, or his shipmates, Sharkey felt a bit isolated. It was just a quirk that the institute mail distributor saw him meandering around absently, while waiting for the maintenance team, and shoved an envelope in his hand to take to Miss Angie. She’d noticed some files had been left by ‘accident’ in the Admiral’s apartment, and had gone to retrieve them.

Francis Sharkey enjoyed a pleasant walk, even though it was a rather short one. And the fresh air still smelled good, especially after that heavy storm last night and this morning. Sharkey saw repair crews finishing up and loading their tools away. A powerful lightening bolt had struck the Institute’s power-plant last night, and had wiped out the current over the entire property for awhile. Generators had kept the Command Center lights and computers operational, so Sharkey doubted if Crane and Miss Angie had even noticed when the power came back on this morning.

Hearing no response from Nelson’s apartment, Sharkey was about to turn when he heard a loud crash and Miss Angie moan in distress. In less than a minute he’d broken the door in.

Crane was sitting on the floor, almost surrounded by a tangle of wiring and glass while Miss Angie plucked the shards of glass from Crane’s face and hair. There was a huge puddle of water standing on the carpet, and a round ‘display’ aquarium was shattered. One of the admiral’s wall sized aquariums was flickering and sparking, while various water- filled containers held his prized roommates, from ‘Spotty’ to an oriental goldfish.

"Sharkey!" Crane called out, "Quick, pick up the Piranhas and put them in a sink or something. But be careful."

Sharkey did as he was told, and quickly emerged from the bathroom with a few towels, handing them to the soaked Miss Angie and skipper. Angie was still plucking glass from Crane’s hair.

"Uh, what happened?"

" The blasted tank exploded!" Crane exclaimed wearily. " I was trying to reboot the computerized autocontrols back on-line but you can see the results…at least I’d gotten the admiral’s other ‘roomies’ safely stowed before they were electrocuted in the other aquariums. This tank was on a different line and I swear the line was detached when I tried to reset it."

"Uh, I don’t underst…"

"Without a properly functioning aquarium," Angie explained, " Nelson’s roomies could have died soon from lack of oxygen."

"But, well, Chief," Crane continued, " I hadn’t even thought about the Admiral’s specimens during the blackout, and when I finally remembered about them , some had already died and we only got here in time to save a few of them," Lee indicated the glasses, bowls, and other containers holding Nelson’s prized pets.

"Then the whole electrical and oxygen regeneration system must have gone haywire when the power came back on. Some of the fish actually exploded."

" It was awful," Angie continued, " and even though the power’s back on, none of the controls are working yet. Nelson’s going to be so disappointed." Angie sighed. "Lee even tried artificial respiration...but it didn’t work. If any of the specimens had to die, why did it have to be the glulumporkie?"

Sharkey knew all about the admiral’s newest baby. It was all over the news. It was about two feet long. A strange species of fish that lived at various pressures without so much as batting a gill at the changes. It was the ugliest thing Sharkey had even seen, like a cross between a fish and an elephant. And after a great deal of research, the admiral had taken the thing out of the specialty lab and put it in his own apartment. He’d even made a special mixture and fed it himself. He’d really be upset that it had died. At least ‘Spotty’ was okay.

Then her words dawned on Sharkey. The skipper tried artificial respiration on the ugly G fish? Now, that’s loyalty, he pondered. He’d never kiss a fish, let alone breathe into it’s mouth, or gills, or whatever.

***

" Is that him?" a soft feminine voice whispered, in the wood paneled office.

" Of course it is," another soft voice replied, " look at that uniform…oh, he’s sooo handsome…I wonder if he’s married or anything."

"Probably ‘anything’. He’s a sailor, after all."

"I don’t care, I wish I was in his class."

"You can still sign up, you know, anyone can join in."

"Yeah, sure, me a middie? I had enough trouble with the paddleboat! Remember how I tipped it over?"

Both girls giggled as they continued to gaze at the new arrival still asleep in the deep leather chair. A bell sounded and the girls fled, anxious not to be caught staring at the new instructor when he woke up, nor in the head office, where they shouldn’t really be at all….

"Commander Morton?" a voice of authority asked, "Commander Morton?"

Startled from his sound sleep, Chip looked up, somewhat groggy, and focused on the woman behind the desk. She seemed to be amused, but with an underpinning of unquestioned authority. The Principal, Chip knew, right away, but there was a problem here. Good grief, why didn’t anyone tell me she was a nun!

***

Nelson had napped well on his flight, and had been allowed the luxury of a ‘sleep-in’ by his host. It was a new administration, and the rookie President was still a tad overawed by it all. Admiral Harriman Nelson was his guest of honor, and it wouldn’t do to make too many waves. It was hours before he allowed himself to ring Nelson up on the Lincoln Suite extension.

"Nelson here. Why yes, Mr. President, I’d be delighted to join you for lunch. Casual? Yes, that would be fine…no, that’s not a problem. I may disagree on a few points, but …I see. Well, it should make for rather interesting conversation, shouldn’t it…yes, I can be there in just a moment. Thank you, I know the way…yes, yes, the last few administrations…yes. That will be fine…thank you for asking…."

It was still difficult to turn a blind eye. Charles Allen could be a pain in the a…and the chef had probably informed the President of Nelson’s dietary ‘not on your life’ list, but diplomacy was diplomacy, so the great Harriman Nelson decided just to grin and bear it. Lobster or not.

***

"This is a convent school!?" Chip gulped, trying to decide whether to run for cover or accept the challenge.

"Yes, Commander. I’m Mother Margaret. I know it seems a bit unusual, but we at the Willows try to be right on top of things, you know, and equal opportunity is paramount these days.We had hoped to obtain Army Junior ROTC status, but were turned down when we applied. And the girls did seem to like the Navy uniforms better anyway, so it was Divine Intervention, if you like, that the Navy offered us Lieutenant Manners and official approval.

But poor Manners had a…dreadful case of food poisoning…wild mushrooms some of the girls had put in her salad. Oh, the Lieutenant is fine now, but won’t be available for a week or so, and the Navy can’t send us a replacement for such a short time…that’s when dear Edith came to the rescue and asked Admiral Nelson to help out. She’s a treasure, you know, but we had been under the impression that Admiral Nelson himself would take over, but I see he sent a representative. Now then, just what kind of Naval experience do you have, Commander?"

***

"What is it Chief?" Crane asked, rubbing his eyes wearily, and leaning against the Command Center. The hot sun beat down through the sky as Crane finished checking off yet another request from the procurement office. It wasn’t easy being ashore. There was more to the smooth running of the institute than he had imagined, and he had only just decided to walk down to the dock, for a bit of relief, when he’d been hailed by an underling for approval of a microwave in the science lab, and more toilets for the visitor’s center.

"Uh, we have a problem, skipper." Sharkey was clearly hesitating.

"Go on."

"Well, uh, one of the maintenance guys punched a wrong button on the robotic heavy loader dockside. It went wild and pushed the crane through the boat’s observation nose at full force. Some of the transparent hull plates are smashed, and there’s some bow damage."

"Is everyone okay?" Crane asked, aghast.

"Yeah, they moved pretty quick…but, uh, the admiral, uh, well, he’s sure gonna’ be upset, ain’t he?"

"Upset?!…Vesuvious was less upset than he’ll be when he hears about this! Of all the khuckleheaded, irresponsible…" Crane took a breath and forced himself to calm down.

"Chief," Crane ran a hand through his hair absently, a sure sign of weariness, "so far Seaview needs needs new ballast tanks, complete rewiring, a new rudder, refrigerator, sail camera, a paint job, and the foreman just informed the office that she needs a new port screw as well … and now this!"

Sharkey didn’t add a new washing machine, as he saw Crane trying very hard to control his emotions, caught between weariness, anger, and exasperation.

***

It was past lunchtime and Chip was hungry. He didn’t dare voice his desire nor need for a little sustenance, as he certainly didn’t want to upset Sister, er, Mother Margaret or her staff. He had to represent not only the Naval Reserve but Nelson as well.

He was on a ‘grand tour’ around the academy, inside and out. Only once or twice did he notice any of the inmates. A quick glance here, a long look there. He couldn’t help but feel that he was being scrutinized. By the nuns, by the girls lucky enough not to be in class, an on some errands or some such thing.

"Now then, Commander, you will join us for lunch after you stow you gear, as you call it I believe? The housekeeper has already taken your things to your quarters, but perhaps you’d like to freshen up?" she couldn’t help but to smile at the boyish face, which had just a hint of stubble. He must have come directly here.…

" You’ll hear the bell ring," she continued, "the dining room is just left of the grand staircase. I’ll introduce you to the staff and the girls just before we eat," she nodded, and left Chip alone just outside the gated corridor leading to his private quarters, and off limits to religious staff and all students.

***

It was still only early evening but the noise was getting to be irritating. The clinking of champagne glasses and the live band, mingled with all of the President’s guests was a bit loud for Admiral Harriman Nelson. It was also getting to be cramped.

While used to the confines of his submarine Seaview, Harry felt trapped in this vast hall. Of course he was trapped, self-compelled to mingle with the president’s guests. Compelled to be sociable. It had been difficult enough earlier, when he’d been served lobster for lunch. The President’s family had chattered amicably while he found himself staring into the eyes and antennae of a creature he’d rather not associate with. Not that he didn’t enjoy seafood once in a while, but he couldn’t help but to remember a rather large variety that had wrecked havoc aboard. And now this.While familiar with the empty talk, flattery, and gossip of the political winding, he found it and the incessant Wall Street tips he’d had to endure stiflingly boring.

He’d much rather be examining that newly discovered species of dolphin, or continuing a rather important biochemical experiment he’d had to postpone so many times it might never be completed.

"A necessary evil, isn’t it, Admiral?" Congresswoman Angela Beecham interrupted his thoughts, handing him a glass of champagne. "Strange isn’t it?" she nodded, observing a dispute between noted philanthropist Walter Newton Scott and a Wall Street miser William Walker. "They’ve been at each other’s throats so long now, they’ve forgotten what their argument was even all about...by the way, you ought to wear a tux more often. You look quite distinguished in one, you know."

" And I’d like to wring the neck of whoever invented the thing," Nelson tugged at his collar, "damned uncomfortable."

"Why didn’t you wear your dress uniform? All those ribbons and medals and things,"she teased as she brushed her hand across his chest.

"Flattery will get you everything," he teased, as he escorted this luscious lady to the dance floor. If it hasn’t already, he thought, with a mental note of how her green eyes contrasted so beautifully with her thick red hair and deeply cut blue velvet dress which left little to the imagination. While professionally the woman represented a lot he despised, he couldn’t argue with his hormones. She was just too lovely to ignore.

It was only 9:30 and most of the nuns had gone to bed, or someplace. The students had to observe a campus curfew at 10 and frankly Chip was more than ready to get rid of them. Only a few remained, keeping him busy with a pile of suddenly appearing applications from more girls, and answering ridiculous questions that had nothing to do with ROTC. Was his hair always blond and wavy, or did he surf; how tall was he, was he married, did he have a steady girlfriend, etc.

More than a little surprised at his chauvinistic attitude, that he was weary of their non-stop chattering, and missed the all male joking and camaraderie with which he was far more familiar. He liked girls, of course, and was considered a bit of a ‘wolf’, but these were boisterous, noisy kids. One or two had almost swooned when he’d been introduced. Some of his ‘charges’, he’d been informed later. It seemed as though he was the only male in the place besides the janitor, and was regarded as a strange sort of alien presence, by nun and student alike.

He was not looking forward to tomorrow.

***