I’ve always felt that while ‘Eleven Days’ the VTTBOTS pilot was a good story it was sadly lacking in sensible motivation for many of the characters actions (most notably Crane’s). This is my AU attempt to offer such motivation.

Thank you Helen for a wonderful beta. A terrible job as this was a long story and I don’t think Helen necessarily approved of where I went with all of my ideas. That she can do such a great beta is a tribute to her commitment to our fandom. Thanks Liz and Sue for plot suggestions and encouraging me to keep going with this. Hope you enjoy.

Twelfth Day

By

Beverly

"You don’t like him?"

"I don’t but that’s not my issue, he’s young, arrogant and unimaginative. A mission as important and complex as this needs a man with the ability to think outside the box. At the very least, someone with a little more experience would be nice. He’s been a captain for what, a year? I don’t know all the details of what happened on the Portland but an exec taking over command from his captain is always going to raise questions. Crane coming out of it with a promotion and the captaincy of the boat, well to me and a lot of other people it smelled of unwarranted favoritism from some admiral." Wilson held up his hand to forestall Nelson’s effort to respond. "I’ve heard some of the stories but I doubt if I’ve heard the whole story…." Nelson made no comment when Wilson looked at him for enlightenment. Shaking his head at the other man’s silence Wilson finished his diatribe, "He’s too damn young, Harry."

Nelson smiled slightly. "The entire Portland incident was handled very close to the vest by the Joint Chiefs I doubt I know much more about it than you do. But I know Lee Crane. I’ve known Crane since he was a midshipman and he served under me on the Nautilus. I know him and I can guarantee that whatever happened he handled himself appropriately." Nelson paused, thinking about the past. He’d known the young man since he’d met him in his tactics class as a youngster ten years ago. "I’ll take my chances with him and be happy to do so.”

Wilson shrugged his shoulders. "All I can do is warn you about him, I wish I was wrong but I don’t think I am. Perhaps the authority and all the attention he got after the Portland incident went to his head, but I think he’s arrogant and as I said unimaginative. Probably not a bad quality in a commander with so little experience who doesn’t want to tarnish his reputation. He’s all about Crane, doesn’t want to spot his copybook, he knows he’s on the way to flag rank. Youngest commander in the navy and all that."

"So, Fred, what did he do to get you so pissed off at him?"

Nelson watched as Wilson looked at his drink resting on the fold down table in front of him and then out the plane’s window before returning to the conversation. "We were setting sensors to monitor volcanic activity in the Philippine Sea last year. It’s a bit of a long story."

"Operation Far Look?" Nelson closed his lap top computer and slid it under his seat. "I’ve been working on that for three hours, I could use a break."

"You knew him when he was quite a bit younger, maybe he changed. Command does that for some people, makes them more…conservative, cautious."

Nelson laughed dryly. "Not that long ago, six years, he’s had quite a meteoric rise in the navy, went from j.g. to Commander like a rocket, not like a man with no imagination."

"I can only testify to the man I knew and it was a lot more recently then six years ago. Last winter, his first cruise in command. Do you hear that, Harry? Last year! His first command! I can’t believe you want him for this. It’s not too late, Stark can have another man meet us. Someone we can both trust, rely upon. This is too important to take a chance on some kid still wet behind the ears without the experience or confidence to make the difficult decisions."

"I can’t think of anyone I’ve ever served with I would rather have than Crane. I’m willing to hear your story but I don’t plan on changing my mind."

"Anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn?"

"A time or two, Crane once or twice as I recall, very respectfully as a lowly j.g. should address his captain, but never the less address me he did."

This time Harry’s smile was softer and a bit more distant as he remembered back to the young lieutenant he’d known on the Nautilus. He’d been so pleased to have Crane in his command. The young midshipman had caught his eye at Annapolis along with his best friend, Morton. He’d watched the two of them very closely the three years he’d taught at the Academy and been very impressed. He’d managed to finagle Morton away from the navy for Seaview. Crane had been tougher. The navy knew they had a star in Crane and between the resistance from COMSUBPAC and ONI he wasn’t able to arrange his transfer. Not that Phillips hadn’t been a good commander. Poor John, he should have enjoyed his years commanding Seaview and then a long retirement surrounded by grandchildren.

"Okay, then, my Crane story and it’s not a pretty tale," Fred Wilson began, pulling Nelson away from his reverie. "The navy was deploying sensors all along the Ring of Fire, building an early warning tsunami network that would benefit the entire area. Since the Indonesians and the Filipinos were both claiming the waters in the Paula Timba area and working their way into a war the navy used subs for the deployment. Kept us off everyone’s radar and avoided any complaints about territorial limits. You’d think, since we were doing them a favor they would have cut us some slack, but you know how it was."

Nelson nodded his head, "You got it done and did a good job too. The readings we’ve been getting from those sensors have already provided one tsunami warning and saved thousands."

"Not as good as it could have been. We were laying those sensors a mile or two from the rift, in one notable case over three miles away because I couldn’t get the commander of my submarine to understand what we were doing and how important it was to get those sensors near the rift."

"Surely he gave you a reason?"

"Oh sure, all kinds of excuses, boiled down to some seismic activity in the area and him unwilling to take his boat down to the necessary depth to drop the sensors. We were dropping them out torpedo tubes but we had to be right next to them in order to activate their computers once they were dropped. We were using the XT 301s, very dependable but not very sophisticated, needed to be dropped and activated."

"Yeah, I’ve used them. So how deep were you trying to deploy them?"

"The deepest ones were at around 800 feet and you know those Los Angeles boats can go deeper than that. They won’t say how deep but I know deeper than that."

"And Crane didn’t want to go near the crush depth of his boat in a seismically unstable area?" Nelson asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Those sensors were important! With them dropped closer to the rift I felt that we could get readings that would help us anticipate quakes that we’d miss with the sensors placed further out."

"If I remember the program, though, you were initially planning to set them anywhere within five miles of the rift."

Wilson waved that off. "They would have been more effective set closer."

"I think in this instance the issue wasn’t that your captain had too little imagination but that you had too little forethought. I know what could happen to a boat if it got caught in a quake that close to crush depth and so does Crane. Actually, doesn’t take much imagination to picture what could happen. Crane made the right call."

Wilson shook his head with disgust. "Those sensors could save hundreds of thousands of lives placed properly. Crane was too rigid to do what he needed to do. In his arrogance he decided he was a better judge of where they should be placed than I was, the scientist in charge of the mission." Wilson’s voice rose as he spoke and his face began to darken with anger. "I told Jiggs when we returned to Pearl that I felt Crane was unsuited for his command and that I would never sail with him again. I thought he should be removed from command and told Jiggs as much. Apparently he understood the issue since Crane was on the beach and available for this mission." He said the last with a smirk, having gained control over his emotions by the end of his speech.

Nelson nodded absently, reaching under his seat to retrieve his computer. "I think you’ll find there’s more to it than that. Excuse me, I have a little more work to do here."

"You’re still going to keep him for this mission?"

"Fred, he did the right thing. That’s not a safe place to take a boat under those conditions. I’m very happy to have Crane for this command."

Wilson shook his head, pursing his lips at Nelson. "He’s arrogant and rigid but on your head be it."

"Indeed." Nelson looked up from his computer and smiled dryly. "I’m looking forward to it."

<<<<<

The sneaking on board had been easy, too easy, but, of course, that had been the whole point. If he'd stuck to his initial plan and announced his presence when his feet hit the deck everything would have been fine. He was going to. He'd had his mouth open ready to say something when the hands had grabbed him. He should have been prepared for that. He should have known there might be grabbing and hitting and should have been ready. Stupid. He'd been stupid. Concentrating on the sneaking he'd forgotten the getting caught. He didn't know how he could forget the getting caught part, since that was what he seemed to excel at, but he'd forgotten.

When the hands grabbed him he'd lost everything, the plan, where he was, if he was honest, maybe even who he was. All that’d been left was the hands and the fear. He’d been back in that cellar in Bakharkhan, held down while jihadists kicked and punched him. The rest was training and stupid. He'd hit that poor crewman who’d had no chance of defending himself. He was very lucky he hadn't killed someone. If the Chief hadn't stepped in and called them off he might have. It was only when they let go of him that he remembered and stopped trying to murder his new crew.

So there he’d been standing in the Control Room of his oh so temporary command, jamming his hands in his pockets so they couldn't see him shaking like a leaf and yelling at his poor hapless crew to cover up his terror. Telling them their security was no good. Threatening them. Saying anything he could to cover his fear. He might have killed one of them for no reason but their doing their job and his being so afraid he couldn't stop himself.

He'd ordered the COB to show him to his cabin and get his gear from the car. Now he sat at his desk in the cabin of a dead man, shaking like a malaria victim, trying to pull some part of himself into order for when the seaman arrived with his bags and boxes. Stupid. He should have known he couldn't pull off anything as complicated as sneaking on the boat. He would have been lucky to just climb down the ladder without falling apart. Stupid.

The knock on his cabin door pulled him from his reverie. He tried to think if that was the first knock or had he been sitting for five minutes lost in recrimination while someone knocked over and over. He stood up, unknotting the belt of his raincoat as he moved away from the desk. He looked about for something he could be doing to mask the fact that he'd spent the last ten minutes lost in his head. He grabbed a manual off the shelf and opened it at random on the desk as he called out, "Come."

Two seamen came into the cabin, one carrying his luggage, the other with his cardboard box. "Box in the closet please, luggage on the rack." The men complied while he ignored them, removing his raincoat.

"Is that all, Commander?" The darker of the two asked with enough surliness in his tone to let him know he'd made no friends on the boat that night. A quick glance confirmed this was the man he’d nearly killed with his panic and stupidity.

"You are?"

"Kowalski…sir." Again that edge of hesitation before the ‘sir’. Not enough to be called insolent, just enough to let an officer know he wasn’t liked. He almost smiled at the man. He didn't blame him at all. He'd have been very angry in his place. At least the man, this Kowalski, was still alive. He could so easily have killed him, ending both of their lives this night.

"I’m Patterson," the other man said and Lee realized he'd been staring at Kowalski who'd begun to shift his weight slightly from leg to leg under his scrutiny.

"Yes, dismissed." He wanted to apologize. To explain it hadn't been his idea. That ONI was having a nervous breakdown about something to do with this boat and this mission. But he remained silent, unable to start down that shady explanation. He watched them leave and was conscious that his hands were shaking again.

He couldn't do this. He needed to see Nelson and tell him as much of the story as he could and let him find another captain. Maybe in a few weeks, maybe when he'd had a chance to rest and finish healing. Maybe then.

He sat down at the desk. He didn't think a few weeks or a few months would change anything. He was done. The massacre at Bakharkhan had broken something in him that time and medicine couldn’t fix.

He pulled the envelope with his orders out of the raincoat pocket and looked at it. He couldn't understand it. Why was COMSUBPAC so anxious to have him that they wouldn’t take ‘No’ for an answer? Had Johnson said ‘No’? One thing the head of ONI was capable of doing was telling more than one tale about the same event. He folded the orders and returned them to the envelope and dropped it on the desk. However it had happened this was the one chance he would have at commanding the Seaview. He looked at the envelope, tracing his finger across his name on the outside of it. Commander Lee B. Crane, USN. He’d been so proud, so sure of himself, so confident. The youngest sub-driver in the navy, destined for great things, so sure of his courage and his ability. So confident of what he could do and what he wouldn’t do.

He carefully removed his raincoat and sat down in the desk chair. What was he going to do about Chip? He was fit enough to fool this crew who didn't know him. That was provided one of them didn't grab him unexpectedly, resulting in his committing murder. But not Chip. He’d never been able to fool Chip about anything. God, what a mess.

The orders had arrived with three SPs and a car. No telephone calls allowed. The commander must come immediately. Top Secret, ya da ya da ya da… and Johnson waiting in his office for him and his guards.

He’d thought that there was going to be another meeting about the mission. The final debriefing he’d dreaded and needed about an event and a decision he wanted to forget and couldn’t stop thinking about. He’d wanted to get away from Pearl, away from the awful waiting for information about Bakharkhan. The worst had been the congratulations. Endless meetings where he told what happened and then some moron would congratulate him. So he’d let them carry him away in a flurry of secrecy and ‘need to know’. This bizarre order to report to NIMR for TDY to command the Seaview. Johnson had been so angry with Nelson that he’d practically thrown Lee out of his office with the orders.

He checked his watch. 0115. The flight from Pearl had been fast and direct to a helicopter that’d dropped him in Santa Barbara next to a driver and two more guards. A civilian research submarine and a navy commander/spy? What was Nelson researching that he wanted Lee Crane this badly? And most importantly did Nelson know about Lee Crane? Did Nelson understand that the Lee Crane after Bakharkhan was not the Lee Crane of the Nautilus and the Portland?

He'd wanted this command from the moment he'd heard Nelson was actually building his dream submarine. Then when Chip got offered the exec slot he'd known there was no chance for him. Not that there’d ever been and not that he begrudged Chip this opportunity. But no way they’d put him in command over Chip, who’d had the same years in service and was actually a couple of years older than he was.

Chip. God, what was he going to do about Chip? Chip with his over developed fraternal instincts was going to figure him out in about five minutes. Less.

Lee got up and walked over to his bags and began unpacking his uniforms and hanging them in the closet. One look at him with his clothes hanging off him like a coat rack and Chip would know something was wrong.

He cleared away his gear and undressed and pulled out the bag full of pills from his suitcase. He sorted through the medicine, pulling out the antibiotics and sticking the pain meds and sleeping pills back in the case. He didn't know what the navy thought they were doing but he'd do his best and that didn't involve his being doped up to his eyebrows.

God, Chip! Chip with his friendship and discerning eye who’d see his injuries of body and soul in ten seconds. Chip who’d try and help him shoulder this burden that was no problem of his friend’s. What would he do about Chip? How could he hold his best friend at a distance while the two of them lived the adventure they’d talked of for ten years?

He lay down on the bunk not expecting to get any sleep but so tired he had to lie down and close his eyes. He'd forgotten how safe he always felt on a boat. A sense of security engendered by knowing that steel bulkheads, and the sea and crewmates surrounded him. Somewhere between worrying about Chip and reliving that awful moment when he almost killed his new crewman he fell asleep to the gentle motion of the sub.

He woke a short time later, folded up into a tight ball against the upper corner of his rack. After he stopped shaking he slowly uncurled his body, almost groaning with the pain in his stomach and back. He lay there for another hour, staring into the darkness, doing simple geometrical proofs to keep his mind away from dead children and Bakharkhan. At 0600 he gave it up and started his day more tired then when he'd gone to bed.

<<<<<

"What am I supposed to think? He hit me with something! Brass knuckles I think. What kind of a guy hits someone with brass knuckles?" Kowalski rubbed his jaw, remembering the pain of the blow and wanting to make sure no one else forgot either.

"Quite the entrance," Patterson contributed.

Always the peacemaker, Ski thought a tad sourly. Pat should make more of an effort to see his side of things.

"You saw him, looks like some kind of an actor or model or something, he’s so pretty. Must be some admiral’s darling to get to commander at his age." Ski was beginning to feel angrier and angrier the longer he talked. At first he’d just been a bit peeved that the commander had gotten the better of him in the tussle in the control room. Now though with an audience of his friends he realized how truly ill used he’d been. "He thinks he can come sneaking in here and take the captain’s place. Well, it isn’t right. This is the world’s greatest boat, we should have a real captain not some kid with his first command. It’s not right."

Of course, Patterson didn’t say anything but Malone, the third part of their triumvirate, was quick to take Ski’s side as always. "He’s sure awful young. What do you suppose the OOM was thinking letting them foist such an inexperienced captain off on him?"

"Maybe he’s older than he looks," Pat offered, not sounding very confident.

"Must be about, Mr. Morton’s age, I heard they were roommates at the Academy." Clark came over and sat down at the table with the other three men.

"Where’d you hear something like that?" Ski was still a little put out with Clark for not making a better job of subduing the commander before he’d gotten that punch in the previous night.

"Overheard the XO talking to Mr. O’Brien when they came aboard a little while ago."

Patterson came back from refilling his cup in time to catch Clark’s comments. "So he must be the same age as Mr. Morton."

"Oh great, now we’ll have the world’s youngest XO and captain. We’ll be the laughing stock of the navy, they’re already calling us Nelson’s Folly. Now with the world’s youngest command team…" Ski shook his head in exaggerated dismay.

"You’re pissed he got the better of you last night," Patterson said.

"He hit me with something, no one could lay me out like that with just their fist."

"He could," the COB said, coming up behind Kowalski. "He was the intercollegiate middleweight boxing champ at Annapolis."

"Is it true he and the XO were roommates?" Patterson asked.

"He’s the youngest commander in the navy and the youngest sub captain." When the others looked a bit doubtful Jones continued. "I know a master chief on his boat."

"We have us a boy wonder," Ski said with scorn.

<<<<<

At 0700 he was in the Control Room speaking to the officer of the watch when Chip came in with a sparkle in his eye and a small smile on his face. Lee turned and looked at him as if he’d never seen him before in his life. This was going to be so hard.

"Mr. Morton, when I came aboard last night I found security to be very lax on the deck. Admiral Nelson and Dr. Wilson are due aboard in two hours. I would like to have a report on the security situation by that time."

He turned and walked away from Chip and up the spiral stairs toward his cabin without a backward glance. He wondered if Chip would ever forgive him for that? In front of the crew without so much as a ‘good morning’ or ‘hello’ he had dressed him down. He stepped into his cabin and stood leaning against the closed door. He tried to think if there was a way he could do this that didn’t involve making Chip so angry with him he would possibly lose his best friend. He was tired and his gut hurt and he couldn’t seem to think of any better plan than the one he’d come up with during the long sleepless night. Make Chip angry and he would become very formal and correct. Make Chip angry and he wouldn’t see past his anger at his captain to the frailty of his friend.

Lee sighed to himself and went into the head and washed his face and swallowed two more ibuprophen, the ONI agent’s friend. He hid in his cabin until 0830. Then, not wanting to take a chance that Chip would come to report to him in the privacy of his room and let loose with all that bottled up anger he must be feeling, he headed down to the Control Room.

Chip met him at the chart table with a clipboard in his hand and a scowl on his face.

"Captain, I have that report you requested." He stood braced in front of Lee like a first year midshipman.

"Very well, Mr. Morton." Lee put out his hand and accepted the clipboard and gave it a quick perusal. He knew any solution Chip suggested would be acceptable and quickly signed off on the memo.

"The admiral is due shortly. I assume quarters are prepared for his guest?"

"Yes, sir."

Well, he had Chip where he’d wanted him, so angry he wouldn’t notice if Lee caught on fire in front of him. He nodded his head and headed aft. There was no way he was climbing up that ladder with the entire control room crew watching him struggle with each rung. He’d go out one of the cargo hatches." I’m going to go check on the progress of the loading of the special cargo."

Since the loading of the cargo was the responsibility of the XO, as indeed was the entire operation of the boat, Lee managed to elude Chip’s scrutiny and further enrage him in one move. He took no pleasure in his success. Maybe Chip would forgive him if Lee bared his soul and told him the whole tawdry story when the cruise was over. It wouldn’t be pleasant telling, but after the way he’d treated Chip, fair penance.

The snow cat was loaded in the enormous aft storage area along with the ‘special cargo’. The big COB was there supervising the loading and Lee took a few minutes to speak to the man and attempt to mend one of the bridges he’d wrecked the previous night. The man was formal and correct but did unbend enough to confess they’d had an awful time getting the snow cat on board.

"COB, have a couple of your mechanics take a very good look at the cat and make sure it’s in really top condition. Have them install a larger block heater and wire it into an extra battery. If we need it and it’s cold let’s make sure it starts up."

At this the COB smiled broadly." I was thinking the same thing, sir, those things can be a real bear if it gets much below minus thirty. I don’t know why they don’t build them to start in the temperatures at which they’re designed to run."

The two men walked over and looked at the machine as several ratings secured it to the deck. The COB confessed he’d done two tours with Air Sea Rescue out of Barrow and had quite a bit of time in cold weather and with the snow cats. They spent ten minuets cautiously exchanging a couple of arctic weather stories. Lee left the storage area through the main hatch, having a much better relationship with the second most important man on the boat.

The most important man on the boat gave him a big smile as he came on board which more than made up for the scowl and deliberate snub from Wilson. He’d forgotten all about Wilson and his seismic probes. What could Admiral Nelson and a marine geologist want with Lee Crane so urgently that the joint chiefs would force the head of ONI to release him to NIMR? More confused than ever Lee could only shake his head as he watched his former mentor hurry across the deck toward the hatch with a sour-faced Wilson in tow. Stranger and stranger.

******

The Conn manned and operational presented a much different picture than it had in the dead of night. The sudden silence that greeted his arrival at the bottom of the steps from A deck was all the information he needed to know that the story of his bizarre arrival had spread through the boat. Damn Johnson for being a fool and him a bigger fool for going along with him. But the damage was done and it would give the men something to think about besides their murdered captain. Nothing could temporarily pull a crew together like hating someone. He couldn't command like that for any length of time but on a short TDY hate and discipline were easier to instill than respect. He'd work with what he had. He could hold them together for three weeks with hate and discipline.

He gave the Control Room crew a slow, assessing look before turning the same look on the dozen officers gathered around Nelson in the bow of the boat. He was glad he'd already seen the amazing view out the big windows so his feeling of awe didn't ruin his attempt at intimidation. He again felt that warm glow of pride that Nelson had requested him for this assignment. He thought perhaps Nelson and this assignment might have saved his life, his sanity certainly. Many more days in Pearl talking about Bakharkhan and they would have needed a padded cell for him.

When Admiral Johnson released him for the TDY the head of ONI told him that he was only doing it because Nelson wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. In a spate of angry words Johnson related it all, how Nelson had gone to the SecNav and demanded Crane be assigned to NIMR for the mission. How Nelson must have a security leak to go with his murdered captain so he needed a sub captain with counter intelligence training. That Lee needed to go, needed to take the assignment, needed to get Nelson off his, Johnson’s back. That Lee should forget Bakharkhan and get this job done for Nelson. They would deal with Afghanistan when he returned in three weeks. They’d have all the after action reports then and could finish debriefing the mission. When the doctor refused to mark him fit for duty Johnson had given that snort of disgust with which he greeted any problem and had Lee on the plane to Ventura and NIMR within an hour.

Now, looking down into the Control Room so tired he could hardly walk and his gut feeling like it was on fire he tried to understand what the two admirals thought he could possible accomplish in his current condition. He braced his back to make sure he wasn't giving in to the pain in his middle. He didn’t know why Nelson wanted him so badly but he would get this right. Perhaps he could do something of worth that might in a small way justify his not being dead in Bakharkhan where he truly belonged.

If he failed though, if his physical weakness caused him to fail in this charge… he realized his hands were shaking again. He stood paralyzed while he fought with his sudden terror. He couldn't fall apart now. He turned and looked out the big windows at the water splashing against the bow of the sub. He swallowed convulsively as his stomach threatened to throw his breakfast back at him. Dear God not here, not now.

"Captain Crane, quite a sight, isn't it?" Nelson said by way of either introduction or command when Lee remained frozen on the steps.

"Sir." Half a life time of obedience to rank pulled Lee the rest of the way down the stairs. He looked the officers over carefully as he joined the group, fitting faces to remembered personnel files read on the plane the previous night. He carefully didn't make eye contact with Chip. He gave his best friend the same hard stare he gave the other officers, reminding himself what a cold-hearted slave driver he was as he did so. This was a role, like those he played for ONI. He forced his pain back and allowed the mantle of Captain Bligh to fall over him.

Half an hour later he was in Nelson's cabin, reading his orders. Leaving harbor in the boat had been effortless. He'd ordered Chip to take the big sub out of her berth and through the breakwater and then watched with quiet pleasure as his XO effortlessly handled the procedure. Chip had sung the wonders and praises of Seaview to him so much the past eighteen months he was delighted to share them albeit distantly with him. Later, maybe he could explain all of this to his friend, maybe they would be able to enjoy the humor of it, maybe there would be a future after this cruise. Maybe the two of them could share the humor of Lee being afraid of Chip's friendship, his kindness and caring. Now he kept his walls in place, giving Chip nothing but coldness and distance while Chip remained very formal and correct.

Lee pulled his mind off Chip and concentrated on the admiral’s smiling face.

"I'm sorry I missed you last night. I understand you were late, if dramatic in your arrival." The admiral looked at him with a touch of severity but he'd had a few dressing downs from Nelson in his JO days on the Nautilus and this was most certainly not his executioner's face.

Lee gave a slight shrug to his shoulders. "Admiral Johnson suggested that your security might bear closer examination. It seems your sub is more secure than your base."

Nelson returned to his desk. "Sit down, Lee, sit down. You'll find the Seaview is quite a unique boat. She has a handpicked crew, only the best are invited to serve on her and no one is here who doesn't share in the desire to see her successful. They're almost all former navy, most of them naval reserve now, all top men and very motivated."

"Yes, sir, certainly my welcome committee last night appeared properly motivated."

Lee made no effort to prevent the smile he felt forming. He’d dreamed of serving with Nelson again ever since he’d transferred off the Nautilus. He’d learned so much from Nelson as a midshipman and then that year and a half on his boat had been an education not simply on how to run a submarine, but how to be a commander of men. He knew he was smiling like an idiot but he was so pleased that Nelson had selected him for this. Selected him, above all of the other officers who would give their right arms for this chance. The perfect boat, the perfect command and Nelson had picked him.

Nelson laughed now. "Yes, so I heard, enough said on that subject."

"Yes, sir." He gave the always safe reply while his mind was spinning away a mile a minute. He could do this. He'd seen from the personnel files that Nelson had an experienced crew on the Seaview. Even though they'd only made a few preliminary, shakedown cruises all of the crewmen had had time in navy submarines before coming to NIMR. The men and officers had been training on the big sub for six months while the final fitting out was finished. They should all know their jobs and as Nelson said they were motivated to be on this boat. All he needed to do was keep them on course for three weeks. With Chip as his exec he couldn't picture any problem with the crew and officers. If he could keep from falling apart from lack of sleep and remorse and avoid Chip's nagging him to death he should be fine.

The orders Nelson showed him were short and to the point. Take the Seaview under the polar ice cap and then surface as close as possible to a set of coordinates given in the orders. This was nothing unusual; he'd made many trips under the ice in his tours on various subs. That he should consider the Seaview and all who sailed in her expendable in arriving at those coordinates was unbelievable. That he could make the journey in eleven days a further wonder of the Seaview. But where was the need for him in this task that any good submarine captain could have performed? Where was the urgency that had pulled him out of his debriefing and flown him to Santa Barbara? Had his ruthless disregard for human life in pursuit of his last mission already become known in the navy, by Nelson? Surely not, surely it would take even something as heinous as Bakharkhan a while to become common knowledge. But then Nelson was hardly the common man. He would have contacts beyond those of most in the navy or out. Perhaps he already knew what had happened, already knew that Lee Crane could be relied upon to do anything to further a mission.

"Confused, Lee?"

"Yes, sir." Lee hesitated, wanting to say something about Admiral Johnson's speculation on the need for an ONI operative but kept his silence, afraid if he once opened his mouth he might ask the awful question. Did Nelson know about Bakharkhan?

Nelson smiled sadly, and explained about earthquakes and tidal waves and atomic bombs that could save most of the people living along the coasts of the Pacific Ocean. Nelson explained why Captain Phillips' life had been forfeit to powers bent on allowing the disaster to unfold. He explained how Seaview and their mission stood between millions and certain death.

"This is a largely untried crew, Lee. Oh we've trained together for six months but the longest cruise we've made is three days. Seaview is the only boat that has the speed and the cargo capacity to get to the site in time, we need to arrive in eleven days and explode the device to prevent this disaster. I needed someone who can pull an untested crew together from the death of their captain and get this boat to its target in time to save a quarter of the world from annihilation. I know you and I believe you’re that person. You have to be that captain, you have to get us there in time. Nothing else matters."

"I see that, sir, I’m to consider the Seaview expendable?"

"I hope it won't come to that but next to the millions we can save we are a hundred and twenty-five." Nelson shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"Yes, sir, I certainly hope it doesn't come to that as well." Surely he wasn’t to be asked to do this math again? What cost the individual in the face of the needs of the many? Was his whole life to be answering this question again and again until some how he found a different answer? "I thought…"

"Yes?"

"Nothing, sir."

"I know you're going to want to brief the crew, but we can't subject them to the awful stress of worrying about their families’ safety. I suggest telling them as little as possible. Our only objective now is to get to the rendezvous as fast as possible."

"Aye, sir." Lee stood up carefully, mindful to pull himself fully erect until he could feel the bite of the pain warning him to beware broken ribs and healing wounds. "I'll inform the crew of the urgency of our mission," he smiled at the admiral, "without details."

Nelson smiled back at him. "I'm very glad to have you aboard. When I saw your name listed as TDY to some shore assignment in Pearl I knew you were the man for this job. I had to shake a few cages to spring you loose but I know you won't let us down. I wanted a man in command I knew and could trust."

Lee looked at Nelson with some amazement. Nelson had no idea what he’d been doing in Pearl. He almost laughed at that. There Johnson was postulating all of these plots and schemes and Nelson hadn't even realized that convalescing ONI agents were assigned TDY to Pearl to keep them close to the hospital and handy for debriefing. No international plot, no urgent need for a sub captain cum spy. All Nelson had wanted was a commander he knew, albeit from six years ago as a Lieutenant. Nelson hadn’t known about Bakharkhan. He realized he’d been too long looking at the admiral when the other man quirked an eyebrow at him interrogatively and he made his exit.

He kept the crew briefing short and formal. He told them where they were headed, that it was urgent and top secret and that they must make all possible speed. He figured Captain Bligh had held the Bounty together for almost two years with tyranny and fear. He could hold Seaview together with formality and hatred for a couple of weeks.

He spent the next eighteen hours wandering from department to department, comparing the boat he'd read about to the real thing and meeting the petty officers and senior ratings. The boat was beautiful, spectacular, a submariner's dream come true. Everything he might have dreamed to have in a submarine and then things he'd never even imagined were possible. The sheer size of her was nearly overwhelming. He would begin to feel the joy of the boat and then reality would come crashing back down on him. He couldn't understand how this dream of an assignment could have come to him at this darkest moment of his life.

By the time he reached the aft storage area he was beginning to seriously drag and had decided to return to his cabin. Surely as tired as he felt he could sleep for a few hours? He nodded to the crewman on duty and walked over to the snow cat sat strapped down to the deck. He hadn’t been in one of the big cats in a couple of years, since he’d finished an arctic mission with SEAL Team Four. He put his hand on the hood of the engine and was surprised to find himself nearly stepping on the legs of a crewman.

"Sorry didn’t see you there," he apologized as he stepped back.

The other man had apparently half scooted out from under the snow cat when he’d felt Lee almost step on his leg and now looked at him with some surprise.

"Captain?"

"Malone, right?"

"Yes, sir, machinist’s mate."

"This isn’t your watch."

Had he not been half asleep on his feet Lee would never have made the obvious observation but it turned out to be the right thing to say. The other man looked at him a bit sheepishly and gave a small smile.

"Well, no, sir, I’m supposed to wire up a second battery to this and I got thinking that maybe with the extra battery power I could run a heater along the fuel line. Might get her started quicker."

Now it was Lee’s turn to smile as he knelt down on the deck and looked through the section of track that had been removed to reveal the fuel line.

"Sounds like a good idea."

"Yeah, except I can’t get close enough to the fuel line to run the wires. It’s already incased in this piping, must be to keep it warm." Malone reached up with the screwdriver in his hand to tap a section of piping.

"Yeah, as I recall it diverts some of the exhaust around the fuel lines for additional heat. How about if you feed down one of the heating elements from a torpedo right through the air filter? You could provide extra heat to the whole starter system as well as the fuel line."

Malone gave him a wide smile. "The admiral developed these high powered batteries for the diving bell. I have four spares in stores. If it’s okay with you, sir, I could install one of those and run a wire right through the whole exhaust system."

Lee clapped the crewman on the back. "Sounds like a brilliant plan to me, but shouldn’t you be getting some sleep right now?"

"I’m on Beta Watch, I don’t have the duty for another seven hours."

Lee paused for a moment, looking at the snow cat. "Go get some bunk time. I’ll speak to the COB and have him put you on this during your watch. You going to need any help?"

Lee waited to see what the other man would say. It should be a one person job. He wondered if the other man would try and get some extra free time with a friend by padding the work.

"No, sir, it shouldn’t take me more then," he paused while he wiped his hands on a rag, "three, maybe four hours, I’m not sure what the piping is going to be like to work with, so I’m not certain."

He nodded. That was his assessment as well. "Let me know when you get finished." Lee smiled at the other man. "Good work, Malone, that showed a lot of initiative and good thinking on your part. I appreciate the extra attention you’ve given this."

Malone gave him a big smile. "Thank you, sir."

Lee dogged the hatch of the storage area, feeling considerably better than when he’d entered. It was an awfully good crew. Certainly the finest he’d ever seen. There was a lot to say for picking through the entire U. S. Navy and selecting only the best and then paying them twice what they could get anywhere else for the same work. The short conversation having beaten back his sleepiness he continued walking aft.

An hour later, so exhausted he could barely keep himself up right he returned to his cabin. He drank one of the awful cans of protein drink and fell into his bunk fully clothed. He woke to the sound of the bombs falling, people screaming and the smell of burning flesh. He'd been asleep for barely two hours. He undressed and showered and returned to the rack for another two hours. Sleep proved elusive and the darkness and quiet allowed for too much thinking. He got up, dressed and spent several hours reading through the manuals the admiral had given him about the Seaview. At 0630 he wandered into the wardroom and spoke to the cook and ate some breakfast.

<<<<<<<

The next three days passed in a haze of work and sleeplessness. He made a point of avoiding Chip as much as he could, alternately working in his cabin and sending Chip to supervise drills in other departments. He'd kept his conversations with his best friend short and stiff to the point that Chip had become very formal in all their communication. Each night he walked the boat until he was exhausted and then fell into his bunk for a few hours of sleep until either the pain in his gut or the sound of falling bombs and the smell of burning flesh woke him. Then he rose and read and re-read Nelson's manuals until he thought he probably knew more about Seaview than the admiral.

The admiral was easy to avoid, busy in his lab or sequestered with Dr. Wilson who’d made a point of turning away every time his path crossed Lee’s. The man hadn’t forgotten Paula Timba and Lee guessed hadn’t changed his mind about their confrontation. Since Wilson’s dislike kept Lee out of Nelson’s way he’d made no effort to mend a bridge he felt well burned. Wilson was arrogant and ignorant; a dangerous if all too common combination.

The fifth day of their cruise found Lee in the wardroom eating his scrambled egg when Chip came in for lunch. He watched Chip fill his plate to over flowing and then go to sit with two other officers ostentatiously turning his back to him as he sat. He smiled slightly to himself, moving the unwanted egg around on his plate looking at his friend's back, thinking of the things he would like to say to him. Hey, Chip, great crew you got here. Sorry I've been such an ass, I didn't want to worry you about how I was doing. Or maybe he could try the truth. Hey, Chip sorry I blew off my best friend for the past week but I just returned from an ONI mission and I didn't know how to talk to you about it. Yeah he could try that one. Angry with the whole stupid mess he got up and left the wardroom.

Lee spent the first two hours of the evening watch signing off on reports and wandering around the Control Room, speaking quietly to the various ratings as they worked at their stations. He'd gotten to know some of the crewmen and in spite of his intention to play the martinet had begun to let his guard down and enjoy their company. He'd never been an officer to enforce a stiff formality of rank upon his crew. All submarines were more informal than surface ships and during his short time in command of his own boat he'd encouraged even less rigidity than the norm. He couldn't maintain the harsh persona or stiff formality of officer and enlisted man; he enjoyed and respected the enlisted men too much to allow rank to keep them at such a distance. So it was while he was speaking casually to the COB about a Master Chief they both knew that the Seaview was suddenly rocked by depth charges.

The initial explosions caught them all by surprise as the warning from sonar came just as the boat was rocked by the first brace of charges. Lee ordered a full dive and hard turn to starboard as he fought to regain his feet but he knew that bracketed as they were there would be at least one more pattern before they could hope to escape the attack.

"Surface contacts?" he called to sonar, hoping that the operator wasn't so poor that he’d somehow missed a ship on the surface.

"Nothing, sir, no contacts."

Worse yet, Lee thought, they were certainly under attack by an ASW plane or two or who knew how many. Their radar would only work surfaced and there was no way he was going to surface to see how bad the situation might be.

He dove the Seaview to four thousand feet. He thought no enemy could possibly expect any boat to survive such depths and that it was possible their depth charges couldn't even work at that pressure. Then he turned the boat again until he was headed almost due west. They still needed some westering on their course so the change wouldn't take them too far off the best track for their rendezvous with the earthquake. The boat was rocked by a second pattern of depth charges at 1500 feet. The next pass of the plane or planes dropped another pattern well astern and two thousand feet above their depth.

Lee made his way to the sonar station as the boat continued to be rocked hard.

"What's the bottom like here?" He asked the operator.

"It's shoaling fast on this heading, sir."

Lee ordered a change of heading to keep them in the deep part of the long underwater canyon they'd been following and increased speed. The next pattern was dropped ahead of them at three thousand feet. The pilots hunting the big sub must have a good map of the ocean bottom. They would guess that any submariner would keep to the deepest part of the trench and dive.

"Come to a heading of 340 degrees. Make your depth five hundred feet. Rig for silent running," Lee called over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the sonar screen.

He took the Seaview out of the deep canyon and into the shallower water around a maze of seamounts. As soon as he reached the shallow, dangerous waters of the underwater mountain range he slowed the boat.

"Dead slow. Come to a heading of 310 degrees. Make your depth 300 feet." Lee knew that if the planes found him in this shallow water he would be in a very dangerous place with little room to maneuver and almost no water under his keel. He thought it would take a very bold pilot indeed though to leave the likely hiding place of the canyon to search for him in the unlikely shallower water.

"Another pattern, three thousand yards aft, I make about three thousand feet deep, but that's a guess, sir."

"Very well."

Lee picked up the mic and double clicked to clear the line. "Damage Control report."

"Forward Torpedo Room, sir. We had a leak in the hatch of tube three. We've got it repaired but it shorted out the fire control system."

Chip ran into the Control Room as he finished with the reports from the damage control parties.

"Chip, the worst of it is the fire control system, shorted out in the Forward Torpedo Room. Get up there and get it fixed."

"What's going on?" Chip asked the question Lee knew the whole boat must have been wondering.

"Later, I promise, fire control first."

"Aye, sir, on my way."

"Lee?" Nelson asked as he joined Lee at the chart table.

"ASW plane or planes would be my guess as we have no surface contacts. They’re still blasting the canyon to our east. We're in the seamounts and shallow water to the west of the trench still moving away, very slowly and quietly." Nelson remained at his side as the boat silently slipped away from the area of the attack.

"I think you’ve lost them.” Nelson finally said after twenty minutes of blissful silence. “You're going to need to tell the crew something."

"Yes, sir," Lee replied, thinking that the one who really needed to talk to the crew was Nelson, the man they knew and trusted.

Then they heard a new noise above their heads. "All stop," Lee called out, not sure what they were scraping against. Every submariner's great fear of hitting what he couldn't see, a mine, a cable, a submarine net, kept the entire control room frozen and listening. A moment and the sound clanged along their side and then fell silent. Lee looked at the admiral, quirking an eyebrow interrogatively. Something had come loose.

The sonar operator answered the unasked question. "Sir, we've lost sonar."

"Captain, we’ve lost our radio as well," came from the radio station.

"Mr. Bishop, hold her steady, keep this position as closely as you can."

"Aye, sir."

"We can't complete the mission without the sonar," Nelson said, unnecessarily. "We've only got six days to make the rendezvous, no time to go in for repairs, we're barely going to make the time as it is."

"We're in 700 feet of water here, if we can find the mast can you make the repairs?"

"Depends upon how badly damaged it is obviously, but we can sure give it a tremendously good try."

Lee turned to the COB who was standing near the main computer. "Get a diving party together, Chief, I'll need three divers qualified on trimix to go with me."

"You?" Nelson asked, stepping up closer and lowering his voice. "You're too valuable to this mission to be taking a chance on a dive."

"No mast, no mission, Admiral, I'm most valuable where I can best help to find that mast."

"I'll go with you, Captain, I'm the best diver on the boat," Wilson said from the aft hatch where he'd been standing, watching the activity. The first words he’d said to Lee on the whole cruise and those a snide crack at the ability of the entire crew.

"I didn't realize, Dr. Wilson." Lee smiled slightly at the admiral as Wilson turned and hurried aft not waiting for his comment.

Nelson returned Lee's small smile. "I have other divers on board qualified for this depth, Lee. You don't need to make this dive."

Lee allowed his smile to broaden. He felt like laughing or maybe it was crying. The sudden emotion that had swept him when he'd seen the opportunity to do the tricky deep dive had left him shaken. An opportunity for him to take the risk to benefit the many. How could he not? So much easier for him to share the risk than take the chance on his orders killing others.

"Captain."

Chip’s voice came over the intercom and Lee picked up the mic. "Yes, Mr. Morton?"

"The relays are fried, sir, I’ve got a crew rewiring the whole board, it’s going to be a while, twelve hours minimum."

"Very well, keep them on it, we may need those weapons before we’re done. Get back up to the Conn as soon as you can." Looking at Nelson he double clicked to clear the line.

"This is the captain. We’re on a top secret and crucial mission for the government. Apparently there are those who are willing to go to dangerous ends to stop us. Consider this boat to be on a war footing from this point forward." He kept his eyes on Nelson as he spoke, wishing he could tell the crew more of what was happening but relying upon Nelson’s better understanding of the men. "That is all.” Replacing the mic he spoke over his shoulder as he headed aft, “You have the Conn, Mr. Bishop, keep her here and keep her quiet."

"Aye, sir."

Lee hurried to his cabin, unbuttoning his uniform shirt as he half ran down the corridor. It was only when he was in his cabin and changing into his swim trunks that he realized one look at his chest and stomach and he would be the subject of speculation all over the boat. He dug through his duffle, thankful that he'd had all his sea going gear with him in Pearl, and pulled out a dark blue t-shirt. He pulled the shirt on over his head and down over the top of his swim trunks. It covered the worst of the damage except for the end of one long suture near his throat, but anyone might have a half healed wound so he decided to ignore it and get on with the job.

<<<<<

Chip finished in the forward torpedo room and headed toward the conn via the wardroom. He’d been getting up when the boat was hit with the turbulence of the depth charges and hadn’t had his coffee or his breakfast. He doubted he’d have time for breakfast, but certainly didn’t want to face whatever mission the admiral had them on without a cup of coffee.

"Mr. Morton."

Chip stopped and turned back into the wardroom. "Yeah, Cookie?"

"Scuttlebutt is you know the new captain and I was wondering, well, if there's something special I should be cooking for him, sir. Something he'll eat, because, frankly sir, I'm getting a little worried."

"Oh, don't worry." Chip smiled at Milliken. "Lee Crane's never been much of an eater, he'll eat something when he gets hungry enough."

"Okay, sir, I don't know how anyone can live on chicken soup, scrambled eggs and tea." Milliken walked into the galley, mumbling to himself as Chip moved away toward the corridor. “He won’t even drink my coffee, the best coffee….”

Catching the last part of what the cook said Chip swung around.

"What did you say?"

"Sorry, sir, it's just… I cook all this great stuff and all he wants is chicken soup or scrambled eggs. Last night I offered him steak, baked potatoes, peas…."

Chip interrupted Milliken's menu recitation with more sharpness than he’d intended. "Chicken soup and scrambled eggs and tea, that's all he's eaten since he came aboard?"

"Yes, sir, well he had some toast the first day but then he said he'd stick with the soup and eggs after that. He doesn't even like my coffee, I've never met a submariner didn't like coffee before. I asked him if he wanted me to make him some hot chocolate, but he…" Chip realized he was scowling his ballast tank cleaning look when Cookie stopped speaking and began to back away from him. “It’s not a problem, Mr. Morton, I’ll just keep cooking him the eggs and soup.” He had poor Milliken backed half way into the galley when he finally remembered to stop scowling.

“I’m glad you said something, Cookie. I’ll speak to the Captain.”

“No problem, sir. Sorry I said anything, just wondered did he want…”

Chip didn’t hear the remainder of the soliloquy as he’d already left the wardroom and the cook behind, headed forward toward the Conn. It was all beginning to make sense to him.

He looked around the control room for Lee, allowing himself to feel some of the anger he’d been fighting against for the past five days. Lee blowing him off, ignoring him, treating him like a stranger, acting the autocrat to him and the crew. The whole thing was Lee keeping him at a distance, to hide from him the cause of the dark circles under his eyes and the scrambled eggs and no coffee. He nodded to Bishop who still had the watch and continued forward to the nose where he saw Admiral Nelson staring intently out the big windows.

"Admiral?" Chip followed the admiral's gaze and saw that there was a dive team visible in front of the boat. The tall fronds of sea growth made the visibility spotty but Chip caught glimpses of the distinctive yellow suit worn by the dive leader, moving away from the sub.

"Oh, Chip, Captain Crane has taken a dive team out to see if they can locate the sonar mast. It's a long shot but our only chance at this point. Did you get the fire control computer repaired?"

"The captain, sir, the captain took out a dive team."

Nelson looked at him quizzically. "I told him he was too valuable to be leading the divers, but you know Lee. Reminded me if we couldn't find the mast none of us had any value." Nelson smiled indulgently.

If Chip hadn't been concentrating so hard on maintaining his composure he would have appreciated the humor of the situation. Yes, he knew Lee and even as concerned as he suddenly was the irony wasn’t lost on him. Only Lee could find a way of avoiding him while they were all on a submarine in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. He realized he'd allowed more to show on his face than he’d intended when the admiral looked at him closely.

"Is there something I should know about the captain diving?"

"No, sir, I was looking for him, hadn't realized he'd left the boat."

Nelson returned his attention to the scene outside the herculite windows and Chip joined him now, peering into the dark water looking for the divers.

They were so intent on looking out the windows that the first sound of the intercom caused them both to jump slightly and exchange quick glances of embarrassment.

"I see it." Sounded like Crane, and a moment later the same voice, now definitely Lee's said, "It's all here, all divers head back to the boat."

"My God, what's that. … Help, it's got Ski."

"Captain, watch out!" That sounded like the COB. The windows revealed nothing; an open mic fed back the sound of fast breathing and an occasional inarticulate sound for what seemed an eternity.

"Grab his other arm, Chief."

Chip recognized Kowalski's voice and was relieved to know that whatever had happened the indomitable team of Jones and Kowalski were on the job.

The ship wide intercom over rode the sounds of the diving party at that point and Chip turned away from his search out the windows to pick up a mic as he listened.

"Dr. Wilson is aboard with the sonar mast."

Chip looked over at the admiral. Wilson must have grabbed the mast and swum away from the rest of the dive party immediately without making any effort to help if he was aboard already.

"The mast can save millions of lives," Nelson said, his face as grim at the desertion as Chip knew his to be.

"Yes, sir," he offered, noncommittally. "I'll get a repair party working on the mast," Chip added, eager to get down to the missile room and find out how much trouble Lee had gotten himself into.

"Here they come now," Nelson reported, turning back to the windows to watch the approaching divers. Chip had no trouble recognizing that it was Lee in the distinctive yellow wetsuit who was being half dragged toward Seaview, a diver on either side of him. Chip and the admiral stood watching until the divers disappeared over the top of the windows, headed aft to the airlock in the missile room.

"I'll go with you, I need to make sure the mast is undamaged while you arrange the repair party," Nelson said.

Chip glanced at the admiral and wondered again what the other man thought about Lee. He knew they'd served together and he knew Lee had followed Nelson's career avidly from the time he'd had, the then Captain Nelson, for an instructor at Annapolis. He wondered how close the two men really were. Lee was so closed mouthed that all he knew about his time with Nelson on the Nautilus was that Lee had been happier on that boat then he'd ever seen him. Nelson had had that 'cat who swallowed the canary' smile when he'd announced to Chip that Lee was going to command the Seaview for this cruise. It’d been the first smile he'd seen on the admiral since Captain Phillips' murder. Then there’d been that note of proud exasperation when Nelson had quoted Lee about his going on the dive and now this anxiety to get to the missile room. Chip guessed that maybe that year on the Nautilus with Nelson had not just been Nelson making an impression on Lee. He suspected that Nelson had not been immune to Lee's charm.

The Seaview was the biggest submarine in the world but still was not a huge boat. The two men were in the missile room in three minutes, well before the dive team had exited the airlock. Wilson had doffed his tanks and proudly brandished the missing mast in Nelson's face as soon as they came through the hatch.

"I've got it, we can continue the mission."

Wilson was so excited and pleased he was practically dancing about the room. Chip gave the scientist a quick glance and then turned to the airlock, which was cycling as the water was pumped out to allow the rest of the dive team entry to the boat.

Chief Jones and Kowalski awkwardly maneuvered out of the airlock hatch, supporting the slighter Crane between them. Two other crewmen helped the captain over to the dive bench while Jones and Kowalski removed their tanks.

Chip stepped up to the captain who was already pushing away the helping hands and unsnapping his quick-release harness to divest himself of the weight of the scuba tanks.

"You okay, Lee?" Chip asked quietly, standing close to his friend so his voice wouldn't carry all over the missile room. Lee had been very formal all the time he'd been on the boat, hardly speaking to Chip and then only addressing him as Mr. Morton. The formality had puzzled and if Chip was honest with himself, hurt. They'd been roommates for four years and close friends for ten. Now suddenly Lee was coming all over so very properly and rigidly navy on him. He'd assumed until half an hour ago that Lee was uncertain how to manage their friendship and command relationship and so had fallen back on formality.

Still, the coldness had hurt and it would hurt even more if Lee refused this overture and cut him off again. Lee should have spoken to him. They could have talked and worked things out without this hurtful distance. But he figured Lee was his friend and his captain and he'd have Chip's full support, however, poorly he managed things. That's what executive officers did. They supported their captains and Chip would do that and save his hurt feelings for the end of the cruise. Then he would push Lee Crane into some corner and force him to explain what he was doing acting like Captain Queeg. Now though he wondered about scrambled eggs and chicken soup and a gaunt faced, reticent friend.

Lee gave him a small half smile through down cast eyes as he fiddled with unzipping his suit. "I'm fine, Chip. Don't fuss," and for a moment it was as if the past week hadn't happened. They were once more the dynamic duo of the Academy and a dozen leaves in between. Chip playing the big brother and Lee good naturedly going along. But just as he thought Lee had remembered who he was and that they could easily manage the Seaview and their new command relationship without the hurtful distance of the past week the easy camaraderie was gone again. But now Chip decided he understood Lee’s problem and it had nothing to do with managing command relationships and everything to do with managing a friendship.

Lee looked past him at the COB. "Get another dive party ready, Chief and get that sonar mast repaired, ASAP."

"Aye, sir," Jones said.

Now Malone and Kowalski were helping Lee remove the top of his wet suit and Chip saw to his amazement that Lee had a t-shirt on under the wet suit. He'd been diving with Lee hundreds of times and never seen his friend with anything but his swim trunks on under his wet suit. Looking closer he could see the end of a flesh colored bandage sticking out of the neck of the shirt. He didn’t need to see what else Lee had hidden under that top. He’d seen his friend injured too many time before not to know what no coffee and his clothes hanging off him like a scarecrow meant. Chip stepped away from the group assisting Lee with the wetsuit and watched for a moment. He had to admit Lee was good. If he hadn't been watching so closely he wouldn't have seen the slight tightening around his mouth, or more to the point the change of color in those remarkable eyes. Chip suspected his own eyes were changing color too at that moment, probably blazing red.

Chip stood next to Nelson and the COB as they examined the sonar mast, dividing his attention between them and Lee as he watched the two crewmen finish removing his wetsuit. He could see now that Lee was hurting big time and wondered how he had missed that pain for almost a week. He looked at how thin Lee was, how he held himself slightly bent forward with one arm around his middle as he stepped out of the bottom of the wetsuit. The guilty glance he intercepted across the room from his friend was the final proof he needed that Lee had been hiding an injury from him the entire time he'd been aboard. He shot Lee such a glare he was surprised the other man didn't fall over from the force of it. All Lee did was give him a slight, sheepish smile before looking away.

A minute later Lee stepped over to join him, the hand he put on his forearm and the small smile the only apology he gave for his deception.

"Later," Chip said through gritted teeth.

“It’s mostly from that fish thing trying to mash me,” Lee said softly before turning his attention to the admiral, who was still kneeling on the deck with the sonar mast now plugged into a lap top computer. "Sir?"

"It’s certainly damaged, we’ve lost several of the sensors, but it’ll find us a hole in the ice. Our reception won’t be great, I would guess no more than 5,000 yards, if that, depending upon conditions. I don’t want to take the time for repairs. We’ve lost the radio connections as well."

Lee nodded. "We’ll go with what you have, sir. I don't want to surface, those planes could come back any time and we'd be sitting ducks. I'll come up to two hundred feet; it'll be a better depth for the divers and we can deploy the floating radar antenna and have some warning if the planes return."

"Yes," Nelson said, most of his attention on the computer screen.

"Chip, take us up to two hundred feet, I'm going to go get dressed."

"Aye, sir," He said, and then in spite of his anger gave Lee a smile. At least now that he'd figured out what Lee was hiding his friend had stopped the I never met you and I'm Captain Bligh act. He still needed to sit down with Lee and find out how badly injured he was and what he was doing diving injured but now he could have that conversation. No more skulking around the boat, pretending they didn't know each other. Lee smiled back at him a tad sadly, Chip supposed for the subterfuge, but he was smiling again.

It took three harrowing hours to get the sonar mast reinstalled and operational. The whole time Lee and Chip were in the Control Room never more than a few feet from the radar station anxiously waiting for another attack. As soon as the work party was on board Lee took the boat deep and they returned too their northerly heading.

The two men spent a few minutes working out another course for their rendezvous point, avoiding the deep canyon they'd been traveling in but searching for other deep water along the western shore of North America.

"Mr. Bishop has the watch, sir," Chip said. "Would you join me for some lunch?"

"I think I'll turn in for a few hours."

"Good, sir, I'll walk up to your cabin with you and then hit the wardroom." Chip smirked to himself as he led the way out of the control room. He was going to get an explanation out of Lee now.

Chip closed Lee's cabin door and stood leaning against it, watching his friend walk over and sit in the desk chair. Lee sat down carefully and Chip could see that he was hurting and wondered how much of it was from the fight with the whatever he'd met in the ocean and how much was from whatever had happened before the cruise. He'd stood there for a whole minute before he remembered that his exec ploy of glaring and saying nothing didn't work with Lee. He smiled; he'd forgotten that about Lee. It’d been a long time since the two of them had had one of their 'you need to be more careful arguments'. Well, if he was honest with himself it was usually him having the argument and Lee giving him that small half smile and listening. Lee rarely said anything in his own defense. Rarely even explained how he'd gotten himself injured.

"So?"

"Yeah, well…I'm a little sore around the middle, got a good squeeze from that, I guess it was a squid. I never really got a look at the whole beast just the up close bits."

"And before that, the reason you've been avoiding me for the past five days?"

"I had a little trouble on a camping trip, nothing important."

"Cookie says all you eat is scrambled eggs and chicken soup, so I'm guessing the nothing important includes some sort of stomach wound?"

"It's not anything I'm going to talk about, Chip. I'm going to take a shower and get some sleep."

"For what, two hours? You've been roaming the boat all hours ever since you came aboard. There’s speculation in the crew’s quarters that maybe you're a vampire and don't need to sleep." Chip kept his tone neutral and his face expressionless. This was a new relationship with Lee. He wasn't his younger friend any more to be chivied into telling him what he needed to get off his chest. Lee was his commanding officer. Chip didn't know how hard he could push before Lee would end the discussion.

"New boat, I need to get familiar with her." Lee rubbed his hand through his hair, still not looking at Chip.

"You need to sleep and eat, Lee, you can't run forever on adrenaline and courage."

Lee looked up suddenly at that and Chip was taken aback by the look of pain on his friend's face. He'd never seen Lee look like that before. Without thinking he took a step forward and put his hands on Lee's shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Lee tried to turn away from him, wincing at the motion. Chip kept his hold on his shoulders. He couldn't force Lee to look at him but he could prevent him from physically leaving.

"Brothers, Lee, brothers tell the hard bits, remember? They share the bad stuff so it doesn’t get worse. We promised, honesty and truth, so now I'm asking. What's wrong?"

Lee shook his head again and said nothing for a moment. Finally, after Chip let go of his shoulders and half sat on the desk next to him, Lee looked up through lowered lashes and gave a small smile. "I don't know if I can."

"Not because it's classified, I'll stand my security clearance up against yours any day."

Lee shook his head and leaned back in the chair. Chip saw that his hands were gripping the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles were white. "It's very bad, the worst, I don't think I want you to know."

"You stuffed Stark's private toilet full of rotten fish?"

Lee looked up at him and gave a small smile that did nothing about the sadness in his eyes.

"There isn't anything you could do that you can't tell me. There is nothing you could do that would be something you’d be ashamed of telling me. I know you, Lee Crane. Nothing."

"I killed a village full of kids."

"God." This was not the story of a mission gone wrong that he’d expected. He knew that Lee’s relationship with ONI was complicated and difficult for his friend. That Lee constantly balanced his conviction that what he did saved lives against the uncertainty that he sometimes felt about the means he was required to employ in fulfilling his missions. But this death of what, he knew more than anything else, was what his friend fought to protect... “What happened?”

"It’s complicated and classified and you know the drill," Lee said tiredly, his attention focused on his hand as he turned his ring round on his finger.

"Is that where you got hurt?"

"Yeah."

Lee glanced up at him and Chip made sure to keep his face open and expressionless. He was glad the awful deceit was over. He couldn’t imagine what Lee had been playing at trying to keep him at a distance but he knew this would be better. Now he could help his friend with whatever had him so off balance.

"It wasn’t your fault, Lee. I guarantee there wasn’t anything else you could have done."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, buddy, but there is no Santa Claus and I'm only human and it was my fault."

"Tell me the story, Lee, because I sure don't believe this, just isn't so."

Chip wasn’t sure Lee was going to tell him. His captain sat in the chair with his head down fiddling with his ring for over a minute. But Chip had waited Lee out before and he knew better then to fill the quiet with conversation. Lee might not answer him but he certainly wouldn’t if Chip didn’t keep silent and wait him out.

"You know who Fahid Abdulla is?"

"Terrorist," Chip said.

"Yeah, he organized the attack on the Salim mosque that killed all those people last March. Then a month ago he organized the attack on the bazaar in Kandahar." Lee paused and looked across the room at the opposite bulkhead. Chip remained silent letting his friend get his thoughts in order. He knew Lee was working his way through his debriefing, figuring what he could tell him and what parts were still restricted. He’d had these sorts of conversations with Lee before. It took a little while, but his friend would get to the part that was keeping him awake.

"A serious bad guy. ONI, CIA, the army, everyone wanted this guy big time. We had reliable Intel about where he might be. Not a specific place just a general area. So several of us were in the area, sort of nosing around looking for him. I found him. I tagged him so they could target him." Lee looked up at Chip now and then away quickly. "Not much different than shooting him myself but I guess they figured it would keep my cover intact."

"Keep you alive too," Chip offered.

"Yeah… maybe… as it turned out maybe not their intention. Any way they dropped a bomb on him in the middle of the compound where he was staying in this little town where I’d found him. In the middle of the town." Lee got up from the chair, pushing Chip's knee out of the way so he could rise. He walked across the cabin into the head without speaking. Chip heard the water running and sat waiting. A minute later Lee came out with a towel in his hands and sat on his bunk.

"Was a blood bath, there were dead kids all over the place. I don’t understand, Chip, why didn’t they wait until he left the village? I don’t understand but I know if I hadn’t tagged him, if I’d waited until he was out of the village…” Lee bowed his head, examining the ring on his finger as he turned it around and around, “I should have done something differently. Something that didn’t result in all of those people dead."

"You didn’t drop the bomb, Lee," Chip held up his hand when Lee began to speak. "I know they wouldn’t have dropped the bomb had you not done your job. But that’s what you did, your job. The intel you gathered was mishandled but that wasn’t your fault. You were their tool, there wasn’t anything else you could have done."

Lee shook his head, not looking at Chip. "You didn’t see it, there were dead kids… you didn’t see it."

"How many would have died in this Abdulla guy’s next terrorism attack? You have no idea what he was going to blow up next. Maybe that was the only way to stop him. You don’t know everything that went into that decision to drop the bomb on the village.” Chip stopped speaking and waited for Lee to absorb what he’d said. He knew he wasn’t going to convince Lee of anything now. He wanted to give him another scenario to play with other than dead children, something else to think about other than his feelings of guilt. He hoped he’d done that. Pleased his often solitary friend had allowed him that much opportunity.

“You got hurt there?"

"Beat up is all."

"I can see the sutures from here, buddy, more than beat up."

"Mostly beat up, a little cutting, but mostly bruised."

"When?"

"Over a week ago."

"A WEEK AGO. A week ago, why aren't you still in the hospital? What in God's name are you doing here?"

Lee smiled. "I wondered the same thing myself. Well not the hospital part. Got out the day before we sailed but I was still on sick leave when I got these orders to report to NIMR. I asked the Admiral, Admiral Johnson, he said Nelson went to the SecNav when he saw I was available in Pearl and couldn't get Johnson to release me. He pulled so many strings that Johnson got so pissed off he assigned me to NIMR. Told me if Nelson wanted me so much he could pay my doctor bills." Lee laughed slightly and then wrapped an arm protectively around his ribs. "That squid had quite a grip. I gather the admiral thought I was on some sort of analyst assignment for ONI. Thought Johnson was just being coy about releasing me for the TDY."

"Maybe you should see the corpsman about that," Chip said, indicating Lee's arm around his middle.

"Nah, it's okay, only cause more questions and there isn't anything he can do for sore ribs."

Chip nodded. "So what about you eating something?"

"They need to do some surgery when I get back. They were waiting until all the internal bruising was healed. I'm on this weird diet…" Lee stood up and stepped around Chip, walking across the cabin to stand near the door. "Not much I can eat, it's no big deal, inconvenient but not worth bothering anyone about. Are we done now?"

"I'm sure there's more on the list than scrambled eggs and chicken soup."

"Yeah, those were easy, I didn't want to have the cook making a fuss, cooking special meals and all."

"Give me the list, I'll tell him you're having a little trouble with your stomach. He'd rather cook you special meals then have it in his record that his Captain starved to death while he was the cook."

Lee nodded and walked over to his desk and opened the middle drawer. He pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Chip. "Not very exciting, but maybe something will inspire him."

"You need to sleep, too. I'm sure there's some pain meds or sleeping pills that came with that hospital discharge and I'm sure you haven't been using them."

"I'm the captain, I can't drug myself to sleep."

"Yeah, well take a pain pill and lie down for a few hours. I promise to keep us from sinking until you wake up."

"Okay, no sinking." Lee said, softly more to himself than Chip. "Go away now."

As Chip reached to open the door Lee said in the same soft tone of voice, "Thanks, Chip, I'm sorry about before, about not saying anything when I came on board."

"It's okay, I should have known something was wrong instead of going all navy on you."

Chip stepped through the door and closed it quickly before Lee could respond. He stood in the corridor, his hand still on the knob too spent to move. He didn't know what to do. He didn't kid himself that the discussion with Lee had resolved anything. He hoped he’d reminded Lee that he didn’t need to carry the awful weight of that decision alone, but knowing his friend as he did he doubted it. Horrible enough the physical injuries of working for ONI, but this … He pushed himself away from the door and turned down the corridor, wondering what he could do.

Chip walked aft to the wardroom where he found Cookie, putting the final touches on lunch. He gave him Lee's list of permitted foods and told him the story of the Captain's bad stomach. Cookie looked more relieved than imposed upon and promised to have something ready for the Captain's dinner.

"Should I bring him some soup now, sir?"

"No, wait and make him something for dinner. He's sleeping now."

"Aye, sir." Cookie smiled and walked out of the wardroom toward the kitchen, looking like a much happier sailor. Chip wondered what it was about Lee that seemed to draw people to him. Here was Cookie who hadn't known him for a week about to dance a jig because he could cook him something for dinner. Here he was, Chip Morton, worried half to death that he couldn't help Lee with an insurmountable problem. He didn't know what Lee's magic talent for gaining friends was but guessed it was a good thing, because the man sure did need them as much trouble as he seemed to find in life.

<<<<<

"I’m telling you, Ski, he knew more about that cat than I did and I’m good. He stood there, thought for maybe two seconds and solved the whole problem." Malone shoveled another fork full of mashed potatoes into his mouth and washed them down with some coffee. "And he was nice about it, didn’t do that I’m an officer and know more than you’ll ever know crap. He didn’t tell me how to do it, just suggested it might be worth trying this way. Man, I was impressed."

Kowalski pushed his empty plate away and poured more coffee from the carafe in the middle of the table without making any comment. It was okay for Malone to come all over impressed with the new captain; he hadn’t been clipped in the jaw.

Patterson passed Kowalski the sugar while he said, "He was in the torpedo room yesterday when we were working on the firing system. Suggested we try using one of the motherboards from the mini-sub launcher. He knew they came from the same manufacturer, thought we could cross wire it. Like Malone said, not ‘officer know it all’, just made the suggestion." Patterson nodded his head in admiration. "He was right, too. Took a bit of doing but it worked. He’s young, Ski, but he knows his business."

"Young," Kowalski said in disgust, "young, he looks about twenty. I don’t know what the admiral thinks he’s doing. He could have the pick of the navy for this sub and he gets this show boater."

"That’s what we’re trying to tell you, he’s good, Ski. I admit the way he came on board, well that was pretty…" Patterson paused.

"The sort of stupid stunt you would expect from someone who isn’t old enough to be the captain of the Seaview," Kowalski said in triumph. "Just what I’ve been trying to tell you."

"Wasn’t the song you were singing when he got you away from that big squid or whatever it was," Malone said, winking at Patterson.

"Yeah, well, that was good." Kowalski spoke with a begrudging tone." I’m willing to give him some more time before I make my final decision."

"Wow, that is good of you. Will the admiral be willing to wait for you to sign off on Crane or will he want to meet with you before you’re ready?" Patterson had a big smile on his face and Malone was laughing out loud.

"Okay, okay, I’m just saying I haven’t decided what I think about him yet. Phillips was an awful good captain and I don’t like this young show off coming on board and trying to take his place. It isn’t right."

The other men sobered at this and nodded. "Yeah, the captain was a good man, not right what happened to him and then us going to sea so quickly. No funeral or nothing. It’s not right." Patterson stood and moved away from the table. "I’ve got the duty in a little while, see you guys later."

<<<<<

Lee woke up after several hours of restless sleep with the smell of cordite and blood in his nose. He started to roll over to get up and stopped at the first movement. He groaned softly to himself and lay still. He'd re-broken a couple of those ribs for sure, wrestling with that stupid fish. He'd been pretty sure he'd felt one of them break but he'd needed the nice long sleep to really feel the pain. Now his chest felt like he had an elephant sitting on him, he could hardly breathe and he doubted if he could move.

He carefully turned his wrist and bowed his head enough to see the time. 0340. He could lay here a little while longer. He inched his right hand over until he could touch the bulkhead that made up one side of his rack. He could feel the slight vibration through the metal, felt like flank speed still, so the boat must be okay. He sighed very carefully and wondered if he was doomed to hurt for the rest of his life. Then he remembered all those dead children who’d never had any lives. If only he’d…

Desperate to end the endless circle he'd been around a million times in the last ten days he began to slowly edge his way out of the bunk. His stomach was much too sore to allow him to sit up so he tried to move his legs off the bunk and use their weight to force his body into an upright position. He hoped he could manage to get himself on his feet before Chip came in to check with him. He kept his arms tight around his middle and bit his lip as he finally made it to a sitting position. He would be careful not to lie down the next time he went to sleep, much too painful getting up. Once he had his feet on the deck all it took was a little stoicism to make it to the head. The hot shower and ibuprofen helped a little but he still felt like the walking dead as he headed down the corridor toward the wardroom. If anyone bumped into him he thought he would probably scream.

The wardroom was empty of officers. A cook's assistant he couldn't put a name to brought him a cup of tea as he carefully lowered himself into a chair. His crew was going to think he was an old man the way he was staggering around the boat and moaning every time he sat down. He smiled slightly to himself and broadened it to include the crewman as he took his least favorite beverage. He exchanged a few words with the youngster and added his name to the crewmen he knew.

He sat holding the cup, waiting to see if his stomach could handle the flavored water before he drank more of it. No reason to embarrass himself by vomiting all over the table if he could avoid it.

"Good morning, sir. I made you some scrambled eggs, the way you like them and here's some plain pancakes, I thought you might like, sir." It was Cookie with a big plate full of pancakes and eggs. Lee nodded at the man, recognizing Chip in action on his behalf.

"Thanks Cookie, that sounds like just the thing." Lee smiled at the cook's obvious pleasure. He guessed his plan to rule by hate and intimidation wasn’t working. He sighed softly as the man walked away. He really didn't feel like eating a big meal. He was half way through his first pancake, conscious of the cook coming to the galley hatch every few minutes to check on his progress, when Chip came into the wardroom. He hoped that if the assistant cook had indeed called the cook from his off duty time that he hadn't also had orders to get the XO.

Chip poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down next to Lee.

"Looks good." Chip smirked at him.

Lee gave him a dirty look and cut some more pancake and moved it around the plate. "Don't suppose you’d like some?" he asked softly after checking to make sure the cook wasn't in the doorway.

"I have my own plate coming, just keep eating."

Lee put a piece of pancake in his mouth when he saw the cook coming with an enormous dish of pancakes, bacon and eggs for Chip.

"Delicious, Cookie, thanks." Lee offered a smile with the compliment and hoped it might be enough to keep the man happy along with his having eaten a whole pancake. People got so hung up about food.

Chip speared one of his uneaten pancakes and added it to his stack. "That's the most important man on the boat. If he comes in and makes you pancakes you got to eat them."

"I did but who can eat four... oh wait, what was I thinking." Lee speared another pancake and transferred it to Chip’s plate before taking a bite from the last one on his dish.

Chip smiled and poured more syrup on the pile in front of him. "You need to dress them up the right way and they slide right down."

"Thanks, Chip."

"You’re welcome, Skipper."

Lee got carefully to his feet, aware of Chip’s scrutiny but not able to move any faster because of it.

"You sure you don’t want to see Frank? He’s a good corpsman."

"Sore ribs, I know what’s wrong with me and there isn’t any cure but time."

"And pain pills and rest." Chip held up his hand. "I know, you’re the Skipper so no pain pills."

Lee rested his hand on Chip’s shoulder using the leverage to finish hauling himself to his feet. "I’ll feel better tomorrow, only need to wait it out."

Chip knew this wasn’t a fight he was going to win and shook his head at Lee’s half-lidded, through the eyelashes look. This was a familiar discussion but he found that this time, as Lee’s exec he had a different point of view. He needed to watch out for Lee, both because he was his friend and because he was his captain, but Lee had to be able to do his job as well. Chip needed to know that Lee was able to function.

"I’m fine, don’t worry, I’m going to the Conn and then I’ll sit on the admiral’s front porch and read reports.” Lee met Chip’s concerned gaze, “I can read that look, Mr. Morton, don’t worry I won’t fall apart on you."

Chip smiled slightly, "This may take some getting used to, Captain."

"Three week TDY," Lee said sadly, as he removed his hand from Chip’s shoulder. "Nothing to get used to."

Lee kept his word, not sure he could have done much more if he’d wanted. He spent the next three days primarily reading manuals and reports most of the time in the nose of the boat. He allowed himself the luxury of one of the pain pills each evening and managed to get a bit more sleep. By the fourth day he was able to walk about the boat and returned to his lengthy tours from section to section.

The crew seemed more relaxed with him after his absence. He spent longer and longer periods of time with various crewmen while they talked about their jobs and the boat with him. He was walking along ‘A’ deck toward his cabin late in the evening watch, thinking how quickly he’d fallen in love with the big boat, when suddenly the deck tipped nearly knocking him off his feet.

"Captain to the bridge," came over the com. Cursing his sore ribs he moved as fast as he could along the corridor and down the stairs to the Conn.

"Captain, we have a contact 8,000 yards bearing 340 degrees depth 300 feet on a converging course. He’s moving toward us fast. I make him at twenty knots. Designating him Alpha One. I’m sorry, sir, I don’t have the reception, I didn’t hear him."

"It’s okay, Kowalski, we know the sonar isn’t fully functional, you heard him before he hit us that’s the important thing." Lee smiled at the rating to take the sting out of his words.

"Aye, sir," for a wonder Kowalski actually returned his small smile with a broad grin. The smile disappeared in a second. "He’s flooding his tubes, sir, I have fish in the water, bearing 335 degrees, 6,500 yards 40 knots."

"Emergency dive. Mr. Baker, fire tubes nine and ten and reload with MK’s. Release counter measures."

Lee listened with half an ear as Baker gave the orders to the aft torpedo room to ready the tubes and fire the torpedoes, most of his attention still focused on the sonar screen.

"Counter measures released."

"Mr. Morton, take over fire control!" Lee ordered as he saw Chip arrive in the control room.

"Misfire on the torpedoes, sir." Lee turned from the sonar station toward Chip who had the mic in his hand. "Aft torpedo room, report."

Lee turned toward the COB who was standing near the plot screen. "Get down there Chief, see if you can give them a hand."

"Aye, sir." The big Chief nodded to Lee as he hurried away.

"Aft torpedo room, we’ve got another short in the fire control. We’re working on it, sir." Lee nodded to Chip to let him know he’d heard the report from damage control never taking his attention away from Kowalski and the sonar screen.

"Come to a heading of 40 degrees. Kowalski, what’s our bottom here?"

"5,500 feet, sir."

Lee checked their depth, 3,500 feet and still in the emergency dive he’d order. "Make our depth 4,000 feet."

“Aye, sir.”

"What have you got, Ski?"

"He’s following us down, sir, I make him at 2,500 feet and still diving. One torpedo exploded by the counter measures the other torpedo is at 4,500 yards."

"Come to a heading of 120 degrees. Get those forward cameras on, give me your brightest lights." Lee was aware of Chip standing beside him as they studied the screen in front of them. The dive had taken them into a maze of seamounts. "Slow to one quarter speed and come to a heading of 130 degrees…meet her." Lee watched the big seamount disappear from the screen and waited to be sure they were well past the mountain. "Come to a heading of 190 degrees," and a moment later, "100 degrees all ahead one third."

"Sir?" He heard the concern in Chip’s voice and hesitated for a second, reconsidering his decision. "We need to give those torpedoes a chance to hit one of these seamounts instead of us."

"Aye, sir." Once Lee saw Chip step over to the helmsmen he returned his attention to the sonar station.

"Explosion, sir, his torpedo hit something. I have two more torpedoes in the water though at 4,000 yards, bearing 290 degrees true."

"What’s Alpha doing?"

"He’s still diving, sir, I can hear him groaning." Then they all heard the explosion.

"His second pair of torpedoes, Skipper, on that seamount behind us. He’s pinging, sir." Kowalski said unnecessarily as they could all hear Alpha One’s sonar pinging. "He’s lost us." Then a moment later Ski snatched off his headset as an explosion rocked the boat. Lee grabbed the back of the sonar man’s chair but couldn’t prevent a low groan as the rocking of the boat jerked him hard. He nearly doubled up over his sore ribs, clutching the chair with one hand, the other wrapped around his middle. He hissed through his teeth as the boat jerked again, sending him toward the sonar station. He would have collided with his broken ribs had not Kowalski put out an arm and grabbed him.

"You okay, sir?" Kowalski quickly released his hold, "I’m sorry, sir, you must be sore."

"I’m good," Lee said through gritted teeth, one hand braced on the sonar console while he got control of his face. Once he was sure he could manage he looked over at the other man and nodded his head. "Thanks, Ski."

"No problem, Captain."

“All stop,” he called as he straightened and turned to face Chip, giving the rating a squeeze of his shoulder as he did so.

Lee grabbed the mic an instant before Chip’s hand reached it. Giving his friend a quick nod he double clicked to clear the line. "Damage Control, report."

"Damage Control, wait." The wait was short before the DC officer was again on the line.

"We had some more leaking around that faulty forward torpedo tube inner door, sir and the torpedo fire control system seems to be completely nonfunctional fore and aft. I have a team on it. Some flooding in the forward torpedo room from the faulty tube, but it’s under control. Some electrical shorts from the flooding. We’re on it, sir."

"Very well, give me a repair time on that fire control system as soon as you have one, and Mr. O’Brien, sooner would be better."

"Aye, sir."

"Chip, make 200 feet come to a heading of 350 degrees, all ahead flank."

"Aye, sir."

As Chip gave the commands to get the big boat moving once more Lee started toward the chart table to work out their exact heading. He stopped as he turned, surprised to see the admiral standing in the nose of the boat. He’d been so wrapped up in the operation of the sub he’d missed his arrival.

"Sir, I didn’t see you there."

"Good job, Lee."

"Incredible boat, Admiral, and quite the crew." Lee didn’t bother to lower his voice as he spoke to Nelson. He had enough respect for the quality of the scuttlebutt on the boat to think his words would make the rounds of the sub fairly quickly. He wanted the crew to know that he’d been singing their praises to their boss and smiled at Nelson as he spoke to thank the admiral for the opportunity.

"Yes, I’m pleased with her performance thus far, although I’m not overly impressed with our fire control system."

"As soon as I get our course corrected I’m off to the forward torpedo room." Lee said.

"No, you stay here, I’ll go take a look at what’s going wrong with fire control."

"Aye, sir."

Nelson put his hand on Lee’s shoulder as he started to pass him, headed toward the aft hatchway and the ladder down to C deck. Keeping his hand on Lee’s shoulder he stopped, dropping his voice to a softer tone he asked, "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine, sir."

Lee kept his attention on the chart, fiddling with the pencil, not meeting Nelson’s eyes. The admiral stood still for a long moment his hand warm on Lee’s shoulder. "You don’t look all right, you look exhausted."

"I’m fine, sir, it’s been a busy week and we still have a way to go."

Nelson nodded but remained beside Lee, who could feel the weight of his examination. He looked up, returning the admiral’s scrutiny with a small half smile.

"Get some rest, eat some food, I’m sure I remember accurately that neither of those activities are among your favorites." Nelson said.

Lee smiled, reminded of the days he’d served with Nelson on the Nautilus when it had all seemed so straight and simple. As long as he could cram forty hours of work into each twenty-four hour day he’d been golden. "I’m older and wiser now, sir, I sleep when I can."

"Somehow I doubt that, Captain." Now it was Nelson’s turn to smile. Lee was pleased to see that Nelson too remembered the Nautilus fondly. He patted Lee’s shoulder absently, still studying his face. "I’m off to see what I can do to get you some teeth, Lee."

"Yes, sir, if they’re going to keep shooting at us I would surely like to shoot back."

When Lee made his way to the forward torpedo room four hours later he found the admiral still at work on the wiring for the fire control system and not optimistic about his chances of effecting repairs.

"The system has shorted out jamming one of the outer tube doors open. We can’t get the door closed on number four tube and we can’t open any of the inner doors until we can close the outer door. Our fail-safe system keeps over riding any patches I put in place. Short of taking the entire fire control system off line we can’t open the inner doors. If I take fire control off line we have no way of directing the wire controlled torpedoes."

"We could still fire the Mark V’s though, use a lap top to set up a firing solution and at least shoot," Lee offered.

"Back to World War II technology."

"Better computers, better torpedoes and we could shoot, if we can open the other outer doors?"

"I can do that, I can over ride the fail safe on the doors and get them opened," Nelson said after a moment’s thought.

"Chip and I will get started on building a program on the computer we can use for firing solutions." Nelson made no reply and Lee smiled to himself as he walked away. He remembered from the Nautilus Nelson’s abstraction when he was puzzled. It was nice to see that some things didn’t change.

He found Chip in the wardroom and the two men began working out the specifics of their fire control program. "I can do this easy, Lee, why don’t you get some sleep," Chip suggested as he watched Lee shift awkwardly on the bench next to him.

"It’s the lack of caffeine," Lee said, smiling at his friend. "No one should be expected to run a sub without caffeine."

"You could try tea?"

"Please, that might work for the Brits but I’m an American," Lee said in a tone of exaggerated horror.

"Go get some sleep then, buddy, I doubt the bad guys are done with us yet and we’re going to need you sharp."

"Are you suggesting your captain isn’t sharp, Mr. Morton?"

"I’m suggesting he looks like twelve miles of bad road and that he needs to go sleep."

Lee looked down at the cup of coffee he wished he could drink but knew he couldn’t. He turned the cup, watching the small bit of spilled coffee make concentric circles on the white table top. He appreciated Chip’s concern. He didn’t know what to do with it? What to say to Chip to make him understand the horror of those children blown to pieces in Bakharkhan that haunted him every time he shut his eyes. How to explain the awful guilt that had him walking the sub at all hours unable to rest.

"You need to get some sleep," Chip said, laying one hand on Lee’s forearm. "Go on, I’ll finish up here."

"Wish it was that simple." Lee knew there was nothing else he could say and gave Chip a smile for his kindness.

"Go lie down anyway, I’ll have this finished in another hour and be in bed myself."

Lee nodded to his exec. He could lie down and rest his weary body even if he couldn’t do anything to rest his mind. He rose carefully from the bench, giving Chip a grimace as he cautiously straightened. "Don’t say anything, I’m healing, takes time."

Chip had the good grace to smile back at him and nod. "Go sleep, Skipper."

"Night, Mother."

<<<<<

Kowalski knocked on the Lab door and waited, listening intently for permission to enter. He heard something inarticulate and decided that was probably as much as he was going to get. He pushed the door open and stood a step inside, holding the heavy box carefully in front of him.

"Sir?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, can you put that over on the bench there." Dr. Wilson gestured generally in the direction of the port lab table and Ski dutifully deposited his box there.

"Will that be all, sir?"

"You are…?" Wilson asked.

"Kowalski, sir, sonar man."

"Perfect, you can help me wire this thing up. It needs a 240 circuit with nothing else on the line to cause any possible interference." Wilson looked around the lab vaguely.

Kowalski showed him where the 240 outlets were and helped him wire the device into the service. When he’d finished he stood uncertainly for a moment while the other man fiddled with the knobs on the front of the box.

"Perfect, thank you. You were on the diving team with me when I found the sonar mast." Wilson straightened and smiled. "I’d put in a good word for your help but I don’t suppose it would mean anything to Crane. Don’t suppose he even knows your name."

Kowalski was astonished to hear the disdain in the other man’s voice. He couldn’t imagine how spending almost all of his time with the admiral and locked away in his lab this man had developed such a strong dislike of the captain.

"Um, actually, I think he does, sir. He saved my life on that dive." Kowalski didn’t know why he felt the need to defend Crane, except that he was more of a shipmate than this man who’d left him with that giant squid and swum to Seaview, alone. The captain had stayed, had swum toward the squid, put himself in the monster’s control to make Kowalski’s rescue possible. Ski was surprised he hadn’t thought about that before. He’d still been so angry about the punch in the control room that he’d taken the captain’s efforts to rescue him for granted. It was seeing Wilson here, still gloating about finding the sonar mast that made him realize Crane could easily have left the other divers to do the rescuing and brought the mast back to Seaview himself. He could have been the man who saved the mission, earned the admiral’s approbation. But he hadn’t done that.

"Huh, my experience of the man has been that he’s arrogant and ignorant, not desirably qualities in a commanding officer. I’m sure you and your crewmates deserve better."

Kowalski was uncertain at this point what to say. This was getting dangerously close to fermenting mutiny and he’d been standing silently listening while he thought about the dive. He should have said something sooner. "Sir, he’s the captain." The man had to know that he couldn’t talk this way about any commanding officer no matter how much he might dislike him.

"Oh, yes, I’m sure he’s been throwing his weight around." Wilson turned away from Kowalski and began moving about the lab, speaking over his shoulder as he did so. "Got you buffaloed does he, well don’t let him scare you. He may be in command at the moment but it won’t last. He’s much too young and inexperienced for this command or any other."

"Yes, sir, ah that is, no, sir. I should go if that’s all, sir." Kowalski began edging toward the door. All he needed was for someone to overhear this and he’d be on report for conspiring against the lawful commander of the boat.

"So what is the crew making of the ninety day wonder?"

"Sir." Kowalski stopped and stared at the scientist. "I’m not sure what your beef is with the commander, but he’s the captain of this boat. He’s my commanding officer."

Wilson crossed his arms, focusing his attention fully on Kowalski. "He had the crew of his last command convinced of his case as well. Trust me, sailor, he’s not what he seems. He’s a coward, an ambitious coward."

"FRED!" Nelson’s voice from the doorway was awful in its anger. "Are you conspiring to mutiny?"

This so perfectly fit Kowalski’s fear that he felt himself break out in a cold sweat. He braced to attention and kept his eyes carefully pointed at the opposite bulkhead.

"Harriman, I was asking your sailor here about Crane."

"That’s not what it sounded like from where I was standing. It sounded like you were attempting to undermine the authority of the lawful commander of this vessel."

Kowalski tried to sink into the deck at the tone of the admiral’s voice. This was very, very bad and he was right in the middle of it.

"Oh don’t come over all navy on me at this late date. I told you I didn’t like him and I don’t think he’s the right man for this job. If he hadn’t been so worried about protecting his boat in the Philippine Sea the whole world would be a better place for it."

"Don’t be absurd. He’s the captain. It’s his job to protect his boat. He can’t perform any mission if his boat is sunk." Turning toward Kowalski who was still carefully braced at attention and wishing he was anywhere else in the world Nelson made a shooing motion with his hand. "Go on, Ski, don’t worry. I’ll explain the rules of decorum to the good doctor, it won’t happen again."

"Thank you, sir." Kowalski turned and fled from the lab. In the corridor he stopped and gently closed the door. He could still hear the admiral talking to Dr. Wilson.

"I know you don’t like him but he’s no coward, far from it, he’s one of the most decorated officers in the navy. Don’t let your feud with him blind you to his…"

Ski walked down the corridor so lost in his own thoughts that he almost walked into the COB.

"Kowalski, what are you doing here?"

"Sorry, Chief, I was delivering that thing to Dr. Wilson. Did you know he hates the captain? Boy was he going at him. If the admiral hadn’t walked in when he did I don’t know what he might have said."

Ski surprised himself. He hadn’t appreciated how anxious he still was until he saw the COB.

"Yeah, he hasn’t made any secret of his feelings." The Chief gave him a more quizzical look. "I thought you felt the same way?"

"Guess listening to him go on, well, it made me think, reminded me that Dr. Wilson was swimming for the Seaview when the captain was swimming toward me, on that dive. You know when that fish thing had a hold of me." Kowalski rubbed at his arm remembering the feel of the tentacle wrapped around him, pulling so he couldn’t get free. "The captain, well he might be kind of young, and not the skipper, you know, Captain Phillips, but he did come and get me when he could have left me."

The COB smiled and gave him a slap on his shoulder before walking on down the corridor. Ski shook his head and continued toward the mess. He had time for a cup of coffee and a sandwich before he had to relieve Clark on the sonar. Made a man think when he was diving at seven hundred feet and a squid had hold of him and someone came and rescued him. Made a man think.

<<<<<

"That’s the second time you’ve called Crane a coward. He’s one of the most highly decorated officers in the navy. You’ve never seen his record. I have. He’s not only brave beyond a fault but imaginative and incredibly capable, proved if by nothing else than by the fact that we’re all still alive and on our way to completing this mission."

Nelson stopped speaking and ran his hand through his hair turning away from Wilson. He took a long moment to get his temper under control, ignoring the sounds coming from the other man. Sounds he recognized as yet more complaints about Lee.

"Fred, stop. Stop right now. Let me try and make something clear to you, where there seems to be some confusion. Lee Crane is the man I want commanding this boat. He’s not only the most able commander I know or have ever met but he’s someone for whom I have tremendous respect, even admiration. I’ve listened to you complain about one stupid thing after another the past week and I’m done. Stop, no more."

"Harry…. Okay, okay, I stop. You’re right, of course, it’s your boat and he’s your man. He rubbed me the wrong way the first time I met him and his actions on the cruise in the Philippine Sea proved his arrogance…" Nelson glowered at Wilson until the other man stopped and gave a nervous smile. "Sorry, my perception of him as being arrogant. I’m willing to admit he’s done a good job thus far on this mission." Nelson watched the other man as he stopped speaking and actually seemed to think for a moment. "Yes, he’s done a good job. You’re right. We were attacked twice and he handled both incidents well as far as I can tell by the fact that I’m still breathing and sailing north. So okay, maybe I was too hasty in my judgment. He’s too young and too confident for my tastes, but let me withdraw my objections on the grounds of imagination and courage. Does that satisfy you?"

"Fred, I don’t care what you think about him. I won’t have you talking about him to the crew. That is a necessity for your continued freedom of action on this cruise. You can’t compromise the authority of the captain of a vessel. It can’t be done."

Wilson held up his hand and laughed at Nelson. "Okay, okay, no more talking about the captain to anyone. I think especially you as I’m not sure you’re completely rational on the subject."

"Me not rational.…" Nelson stepped away from Wilson and walked to the door. "We’re done."

Nelson left the lab and headed toward his cabin. He wondered how anyone could take away from Lee an image of arrogance and cowardice. The man was stupid brave.

He closed his cabin door and sat down at the desk and looked at the pile of folders and reports, waiting his attention. Half the world was facing annihilation and he was worried about Crane and Wilson getting along. He rubbed his hand through his hair and reached into his desk drawer for the bottle of scotch. He considered searching Lee out for a talk. There was something wrong with Crane, he was almost certain of it. He looked exhausted and seemed so… Nelson poured a little more scotch into his glass. Crane looked sad, forlorn. He’d never been an extrovert but now there seemed something so mournful about him. He wondered if someone in Lee’s family had died. He realized he knew very little about Crane’s private life after knowing the man off and on for over a decade. If they all lived through the next week he’d need to do something about that.

The scotch slid down easily and the cigarette afterwards tasted like heaven. He decided that whatever he could do for Lee he could do better after a good night’s sleep. Damn Wilson for a fool.

<<<<<

"You’re wizards." The admiral had rigged a manual override on the torpedo doors so they could get them opened and closed. Chip had written a piece of software to determine firing solutions that would have sunk a million tons of Japanese shipping during World War II had it only been available. The three men exchanged smiles. This partnership with the admiral and Chip was everything Lee had always thought it might be. The three of them could do anything with a boat like the Seaview, maybe even save the world.

The following days were quiet with no more attacks from whatever idiots were trying to end life along the pacific coasts so they made good time steaming north. Lee managed to get some sleep with the help of the pills supplied by the doctor in Pearl. He was still tired and sore. He’d expected to feel better when he finished the antibiotics but the pills were gone and he was still dragging around like the walking dead. He spent several hours each evening sitting in what the crew called the admiral’s front porch. He looked out the big herculite windows, avoiding his sleepless rack and trying to think his way through the events in Bakharkhan.

One of the areas of study for all midshipmen at Annapolis was the ethics of war and their responsibilities as officers, warriors, citizens of the United States and men. He’d been an officer for over ten years and had thought he understood his moral responsibilities as a human being and a naval officer. He’d largely raised himself with very little worthwhile adult guidance until he was in his middle teens. He’d wanted to be a good man and had deliberately sought out good men as examples of how he should behave. He’d been fortunate to always find men he could respect to provide that needed example, Uncle Joe Prentiss at the ‘Y’ who’d coached the boxers, Captain Hughes later when he’d begun to sail seriously and Harriman Nelson at the Academy. They had all been strong men who’d seemed to always know the correct thing to do in ambiguous situations. He’d thought he could learn to be a good man by example and study. He’d thought he had become such a man. He thought he’d developed a moral compass somewhere between the streets of New York and the halls of the Academy that would guide him in any situation.

He’d been wrong. The first time he’d been faced with a really complicated moral dilemma he’d had no idea what to do. His blind obedience to orders had cost at least twenty people their lives. He kept going over and over what he knew about right and wrong and his decision in Bakharkhan. He couldn’t understand how any correct decision could result in the death of children. There had been dead children. If he’d decided correctly they shouldn’t have died. Then he would start at the beginning again and try to think his way through the whole ugly mess and see if he could find a better solution.

The night they went under the ice he was standing in the nose with his forehead resting against the herculite, remembering Joe Prentiss and the day his friend Julio was killed. He’d gone to Uncle Joe that night. He hadn’t known where else to go. He’d told Joe the whole story. Julio’s brother, Chico, robbing the store. The two of them, Lee and Julio, supposed to take the gun after the robbery. Supposed to meet Chico later so he didn’t get caught with a firearm and face a felony/robber rap. The store owner shooting Julio when he saw Lee and Julio with Chico out on the sidewalk. Lee knew they’d been breaking the law, helping Chico with the gun, but Chico was Julio’s brother. Julio was obliged to help him and he was Julio’s friend and so obliged to help Julio. It’d seemed so obvious to him before the shooting. Afterwards nothing had made any sense.

Joe had spoken of the obligation of friends to each other and the obligation of people for each other. That a good friend didn’t ask his buddy to do something that would hurt someone else or that he knew was wrong. That adults didn’t put children in dangerous places. That Chico should have protected Lee and Julio from the action of the robbery, not involved them in it. Chico should have looked out for his little brother and Lee who were children.

Joe had made sense of the right and wrong of the situation for him. He’d also told him that whatever the right or wrong of what Chico did the storeowner shouldn’t have shot at them. Not for money should he have killed anyone. He certainly shouldn’t have killed a ten year old boy over a hundred dollars. That was the part Lee had always remembered. Adults watched out for children, kept them safe, didn’t put them in the way of danger. That people didn’t kill people for money. What sense would Joe have seen in Bakharkhan? Dead children in the street.

Perhaps if he’d waited and not put the homing device on Abdulla until after they’d left the village? But he’d been afraid to wait, afraid they would kill him before he could act. And there he was again back at the beginning. Back at the point that had him walking the boat at all hours, looking for the answer that had eluded him in the village and eluded him still. What could he have done differently. Even knowing the awful outcome of his decision he still couldn’t see a different path forward from that cell full of jihadists beating. He’d taken his chance to put the homing device on Abdulla. The children had died as a result.

Had that been his mistake? Had the whole plan been wrong. Should he have not allowed them to capture him? Could he have found another way to get next to Abdulla? But he’d played this scenario out a hundred different ways as well and couldn’t see any other means of getting close to his target. He’d needed to offer him something the other man wanted. Something he would need to come to Lee to get. All he’d had to offer was himself. The promise of information that he’d known Abdulla with his reputation for enjoying the interrogation of prisoners would want to try and glean himself. Perhaps if he’d…

"I said, would you like a cup of coffee?"

Lee jumped away from the window and spun around to find the admiral, stepping away from him with two cups of coffee. He put his arm around his ribs and closed his eyes as he leaned on the edge of the shelf around the windows for a moment. His ribs were better after five days of relative inactivity but jumping still wasn’t a good idea. It seemed lately as if he couldn’t get his mind or his body on an even keel.

"I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t hear you." Lee pushed off against the window with his free hand as he straightened, smiling in his embarrassment. "You surprised me."

"Yes, that I can see." Nelson stepped forward and grabbed him by the upper arm, holding the two cups in one hand. "Come over here and sit down."

"Sir?"

"Scuttlebutt has it you spend more time here nights, watching the water go by then in your bunk." Nelson used the two cups of coffee to gesture over toward the chairs on the other side of the room. "Sit down, Lee."

Lee took the coffee and allowed Nelson to direct him into one of the chairs that faced forward toward the windows. Unable to resist the wonderful smell he took a small swallow of the coffee. That’d been the first time he had coffee, the day Julio died. Joe had given him a cup, more sugar and milk than coffee, but his first cup, the two of them sitting in Joe’s office next to the locker room talking about dead friends and the obligation of men to children.

"The view is everything I’d hoped and then some I think. There is a mesmerizing quality to it." Nelson said into the silence that had grown as Lee’s thoughts continued to wander.

"Yes, sir, it’s amazing. I feel as if there should be some other word to describe it, but to actually be in a boat and able to see what your sailing into… it’s amazing." Lee was glad to talk about the windows and not his long nights looking through them.

"Are you all right, Lee?" Nelson raised his hand before Lee could say anything. "I know your first instinct is to tell me you’re fine, we’ve known each other for a long time." Nelson smiled so that his words instead of sounding like an admonishment felt like a shared confidence. Lee found himself briefly returning the smile. "Tell me the truth please, why were you at Pearl and not on your boat and why are you sitting up here instead of lying in your bunk?"

"It’s nothing, really, the Pearl thing was a debrief from an ONI mission."

Nelson made no response and Lee allowed himself another small sip of the coffee. It wasn’t as hot as he liked, but it was very strong. He held it in his mouth, enjoying the strong nutty flavor, concentrating on that rather than the ONI mission and Pearl.

"What happened, Lee?"

He looked over at Nelson, surprised by the gentleness of his tone and then dropped his eyes at the look of concern on the other man’s face. Was he that obviously wounded in his soul that Nelson had gotten out of his bed in the middle of the night to talk to him? How had Nelson even known he was here?

"Scuttlebutt,” the other man said, easily reading his mind, “you haven’t been drinking coffee, you’ve hardly touched that cup. You don’t sleep more than three or four hours at a time. You’re clearly underweight even for you and I suspect unwell. I know you would have said something if you weren’t well enough to do your job, I’m not questioning that," Nelson said hurriedly as Lee started to speak. "I’m asking why you aren’t sleeping, eating or," he reached over and took Lee’s nearly full cup of coffee, "drinking coffee."

"I’m having a little trouble with my stomach." Lee hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to say. "I was sick listed at Pearl when Admiral Johnson assigned me to you."

"No doubt he said you were fit enough to sit around on a submarine for three weeks and if I was going to go to the SecNav to get your services, ‘to hell with me I could take you as I found you’."

These were so nearly the words Johnson had used that Lee smiled again at his friend. "Actually, yes, sir, words to that effect."

"That’s not what’s bothering you, though, is it?"

Lee looked down at his empty hands, wishing he had the coffee cup back. "No, sir, I’ve been trying to think. Something came up, I’m not sure…" Lee ran his hands through his hair and started to lean forward before his protesting ribs reminded him to stay erect.

"Tell me. I’ve had more years to think about things, maybe I can help you to see your way through."

Lee was silent, trying to order his thoughts. What was the question he really needed answered.

"I’ve always understood that our responsibility as officers, warriors if you will, was to protect the innocent, especially the children." He paused, thinking through the rest of his question. "I understand that sometimes in war, innocents die." Feeling that he was near the nub of what he needed to know he shifted his attention from the view out the windows to Nelson. "How many innocent lives do we pay to kill an enemy? How does a man know if he should obey an order that’s going to get innocent people killed?”

He studied Nelson as the older man now turned away to look through the bow of the boat.

"Hard questions, Lee. The crux of the moral question that any military man faces. The higher his rank the harder the question becomes to answer, the harder the balance to find. Let me try and answer in the abstract as you’ve asked the question. Then I hope you’ll tell me the specifics." Nelson faced Lee and put his hand on Lee’s forearm where it rested on the chair beside him.

"It isn’t a black and white answer any more than it’s a black and white question. That such questions are even asked is part of what makes war so awful. That some men need to weigh the lives of people against each other and decide who lives and who dies. That isn’t a decision that any man should ever have to make." Nelson paused and drank some of his coffee.

"I’m thinking my way through this, Lee so bear with me. We both know the easy answer, trust in the authority that gave you your orders. But we also know from experience that the ultimate authority must lie with the soldier obeying the order. You must not obey an unlawful order. You must have a way of determining that the order your obeying is lawful. If you’re ordered to blow up a school because there might be a soldier hiding inside that would be an unlawful order. Clearly the awful carnage balanced against the possible gain would not justify the action."

Nelson went through the lighting a cigarette ritual and sat smoking both men silent for a time.

"The British arranged the raid that killed Heydrich during World War II. The Germans responded by killing five thousand people. This was an awful war crime on their part. Knowing that the Germans were likely to commit a war crime should the British have not participated in any attacks against the officers organizing the extermination of the Jews?"

"My question isn’t as weighty as that, at least not on a global scale. I ordered an air attack, knowing civilians were likely to die." Lee played with his ring careful to keep his face from Nelson. He couldn’t see that look of condemnation in the face of this man he respected so highly that he saw in his own each morning… he couldn’t bear that. Cursing himself for a coward he faced Nelson squarely. "I ordered an air attack and children died. Children were blown up.…" He stopped as he heard his voice rising and took a deep breath. "Children were killed." He glanced away from Nelson’s look of compassion, he didn’t know if the pity was better or worse than the guilt he felt?

"I’m sure you had a reason for calling in the air strike?" Nelson said after a moment.

"That’s the question though, isn’t it, can there be sufficient reason?"

"Are we going to do this in the abstract? Then yes there can certainly be sufficient reason." Nelson spoke with the confidence and certainty that Lee realized he’d been seeking. Someone who knew if he was damned or not.

"Not a complicated story. I needed to mark a target. When I did they sent in an air strike. Killed everyone in the area… well almost everyone, missed me."

Lee stopped speaking and got up and walked back over to the windows. He stood with his back to Nelson, watching the water breaking around the boat in the light cast by the exterior spot lights. He put his hand on the window as if he could feel the water through the cold herculite. There’d been no water there, in the high pass of the Hindu Kush. No water, no trees, very little cover. Just that village, nothing else for miles around. It wasn’t Fahid Abdulla’s main base. Lee had gotten lucky when he met up with a group of his men, seeking recruits for their holy war. He’d had no trouble convincing them he had information that Fahid Abdulla would want. The waiting for Abdulla to arrive had been painful but bearable. It’d been the aftermath.

"I marked the objective like the good spy I am and they took out the target, so easy…" Lee leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. Nelson didn’t say anything, waiting him out Lee supposed. Waiting for him to say something, to explain. But he had nothing else to say. He’d been over it and over it in his mind, trying to think what he should have done. He’d had Abdulla right there, hammering away on him. It’d been so easy to slip the device into a cuff of his pants, so easy to mark his target.

He’d been very tired. They’d had him in that cell for a couple of days while he waited for Fahid Abdulla to show up and begin his part of the interrogation. He’d been awake for days; hungry for days and the beatings hadn’t helped. Maybe if he’d been less worn he’d have found a better solution? Maybe he’d wanted to kill those people for doing nothing while Abdulla’s goons beat on him. Maybe he hadn’t cared who else got killed in the process of killing Abdulla and his thugs. Because he remembered quite clearly that he’d been plenty angry in that village, waiting for Abdulla to show and get his card punched. Had it been a straight up war crime? Him ordering that strike on the village, seeking revenge for the abuse he’d suffered from Abdulla and his cronies?

"Lee, Lee."

He turned at the touch of Nelson’s hand. "It wasn’t your decision to drop the bomb. It was your decision to mark the target. You obeyed a lawful order on a mission. You provided the information you were sent to obtain. You did nothing wrong." Nelson’s hand closed on his shoulder.

"It doesn’t feel like it." Lee said, trying now to make light of the discussion. Had he thought that Nelson could give him some sort of absolution, like a priest? That he could tell Nelson his sorrows and he could make them go away? Make dead children live?

"You need to get some sleep."

"Yes, sir." Lee had no trouble smiling at that; yes he needed to get some sleep. The need was clear enough; it was the how he was having difficulty with. "I was about to turn in, good night." Lee hesitated, knowing he needed to say something more. Nelson had done his best to answer his question. "Thank you, sir."

"Lee, you had no choice. If you’re sent to provide information you can’t choose not to provide it because you aren’t sure how it’ll be used. At some level you have to trust that the correct decisions are being made."

"Yes, sir." Lee made no effort to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

Nelson spoke more softly now, his hand on Lee’s arm, "I do understand. I understand that you’ve spent your career trying to defend the innocent. I understand that you’ve made considerable sacrifice, suffered a lot of pain in an effort to do that. It’s what we do, what warriors do. We protect the rest of our people. When you do your job, when you suffer the pain I imagine you suffered on this assignment and then fail to protect the innocent, I do understand how it can make you question your basic beliefs."

Nelson’s hand tightened and Lee attempted a quick smile. It was so kind of the admiral to take the time to try and help him with this."

“You did the right thing. You can’t save everyone. The wrong was that village being in a place of war. You had nothing to do with that."

"Yes, sir."

"Did you share your concerns with ONI? What did Johnson say about the decision to bomb?"

"After they stopped slapping each other on the back about the success of the mission, they said it was an ‘operational necessity,’ seemed to think that should pretty well lay any concerns I had to rest." Lee didn’t bother trying to smile again. He’d always known that ONI’s concerns for the success of a mission exceeded their concern about his or any agent’s survival. He should have been able to see that their concern for mission over human life would stretch beyond that of their agents. He should have been able to anticipate this, some how find another way to mark their target without putting so many innocence at risk. If only…

“Lee you did the right thing. In this case you weren’t the prime mover, you were the weapon. You obeyed a lawful order. A decision had to be made at some point if your target’s destruction justified the loss of life involved. ONI felt it did. Do you trust Johnson? Do you trust your handlers there that they would have weighed all of the evidence and made the correct decision?”

Lee considered Admiral Johnson. He’d worked for Johnson for three years. He knew the man was tough and ruthless but he also knew he was honorable and able. “Yes, sir. I trust Admiral Johnson.”

“You obeyed your orders. You did your job. There can be no lessening of the pain of those children dying. But it wasn’t your fault.”

Lee studied the deck in front of him while he thought through what Nelson had said. “Whose fault then?”

“The men who took refuge among civilians with the intent of killing other civilians. The men who ordered the attack. You were no more to blame then the pilot of the aircraft or the maker of the bomb.” Nelson relinquished his hold on Lee’s arm with a slight squeeze, “Think on that for a while instead of the guilt you’ve been feeling. Think about the pilot and the bomb makers and the men who needed to decide how much damage your target would do if he was allowed to escape the trap you’d put him in.”

"Can there be these bodies of dead children from an attack I arranged without some of the blame for their deaths falling on me?”

“You marked a moving target. You didn’t bomb a group of children.” Nelson’s tone of voice changed, becoming softer, “you fought in a war in which civilians died. The whole world bears some responsibility for the death of those children. I don’t think your responsibility is any greater than mine.”

Lee wasn’t sure what in the conversation had helped but as he walked back toward his cabin he realized the awful pain had eased. He knew there would always be an ache in his heart for those dead children. An ache that he would feel the rest of his life, just as there was occasional pain from other old wounds. But for the first time it felt like a pain he could manage, one that would hurt on bad days, but something he could live with.

>>>>>>>

The decision to go after Wilson and Malone was so easy to make. He knew from the look that Nelson gave him as he started up the ladder to the conning tower that the other man had recognized his satisfaction in the opportunity to put his life on the line in the rescue attempt. Such a clear fair trade, his life for theirs if need be. His life in the balance. His life offered up to fortune for the chance to save two others. It was when the big COB met him on the deck in cold weather gear that he’d recognized that there could be no simple trade with the fates.

“You aren’t going alone, Lee,” Nelson had said. ”No one can make that trek there and back alone in these conditions.”

Lee looked at the big chief, made even larger in his parka. “COB I know you have the training for this, but it's strictly volunteer. If we aren’t back in time this boat is gone.”

“Malone is one of my men too, sir.”

Lee nodded to the chief but his look was for Nelson; half angry now at the additional burden the other man had placed on him. One more life to try and save.

“If you can’t find them in the allowed time you get the COB back here. I won’t wait,”

Lee held the admiral’s look, thinking that the chief had been sent to make sure he didn’t continue to hunt beyond the time for a safe return. “I understand, sir. It was never meant to be a suicide mission.”

“Hurry, Lee, I can’t afford to lose you.”

Nelson’s concern touched him unexpectedly. It’d been personal, not professional. The generosity of that caring warmed him and he returned it with a smile. “I’ll be back,” he said with a bad German accent and was pleased to see Nelson and Chip smile at him.

“Hasta la vista,” Chip replied in an equally atrocious Schwarzenegger imitation.

Lee had started down the exterior ladder toward the ice when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked up to see Nelson holding his parka sleeve.

“Lee I can’t wait more than four hours. Dying on the ice won’t bring back those children. All it will do is prevent you from saving someone else in the future.”

Lee reached up to grab Nelson’s hand when it was extended toward him. “Thank you for everything, sir.”

Nelson released his hold and stepped away. “Be careful.”

“Always, sir,” and this time Lee gave him a big smile that Nelson returned with a small wave.

Lee hadn’t been in a good arctic blow in several years. He would have grinned at the suddenly remembered feeling of the extreme cold if he wasn’t afraid his face would crack where it already felt frozen. Naturally they were walking into the wind. It was one of the laws of weather. You always had to walk into a cold wind, rain always blew into your face and the weather could always get worse.

He and Jones took turns leading into the awful blowing ice, one acting the windbreak for the other. Fortunately the wind and blowing ice were the worst of it. They weren’t also faced with the huge pressure ridges that could be so common on the ice, so they made good time.

Wilson and Malone were sheltered behind the huge snow and ice mound that had been the snow cat. It was buried under feet of ice so they could only make out one of the tracks on the upwind side. Of course, Wilson was bitter and acerbic in his greeting.

“What are you doing here? You can’t get this thing out from under five tons of ice in the time we have.” Wilson was screaming into his face to be heard over the howling of the wind as they struggled around the mound of snow cat. Lee ignored the rant, recognizing the fear given voice.

“Help the COB get Malone on the other side of the device.”

“I can’t, my arms broken.” Now Wilson didn’t sound fearful or angry, only petulant and Lee felt himself losing patience.

“Use the unbroken one,” he yelled over his shoulder at the scientist as he dug the charges out of his knapsack. “Hurry up man, we don’t have much time.”

“What are you doing?”

“Help with Malone, now, move.” Lee looked downwind toward the COB who was wrapping an emergency air-cast around the outside of Malone’s leg in the lee of the snow cat. Turning to Wilson, Lee put his hand on the other man’s arm trying to will a little hope into him. “Go help, we need to hurry.”

He thought Wilson was going to persevere in his screaming but after a moment he saw his head nod. Lee reached into his knapsack not bothering to watch what the other man did.

He jammed his broken pieces of wood, salvaged from a packing crate on Seaview, all about in the ice blocks on the snow cat. It took him an eternity to jam the fuses into each charge and run the wire from block to block. The wind blew the wire about and his hands were cold and awkward in the mittens. Finally, he removed the gloves and worked bare handed, knowing he had only a few minutes to get the work done before his hands became too cold to function. He took his time though, working carefully, he would only have one chance to get this right.

The small explosive charges on the pieces of wood worked as he’d hoped, blowing the ice off the snow cat in one muffled explosion. The sound of the blast lost in the screaming of the arctic storm. The wooden pieces holding the charges far enough up from the cat to leave the machine undamaged. He hoped.

He hurriedly got in the cab and worked on starting the engine while the chief loaded Malone and Wilson. The machine started first try and he got it into gear and headed toward Seaview before looking over his shoulder at Malone.

“Good job, Malone, started up first try.”

“Yes, sir, good battery that.”

“How did you get the ice off so fast, it was buried deep?” Wilson was pulling on his parka sleeve as he spoke like an importuning child. Lee ignored him while he worked at getting as much heat as he could directed on his hands. They were too cold now to re warm in his gloves. He pushed his arms through the steering wheel to get his fingers as close as he could to the slowly warming air blowing out the front dash. It was a sweet agony as the feeling returned to his hands.

“How did you get the ice off?”

“Explosives,” Lee said, exhausted from the trek to the snow cat and the anxiety about whether or not he could blow the ice off without destroying the vehicle. He tried to pull the sleeve of his parka up to see his watch but his fingers still wouldn’t work well enough for that. He concentrated on driving, the sudden depletion of adrenaline leaving him feeling worn and slightly apathetic.

“Thirty three minutes, sir, it’s going to be close.” The COB said, reading his mind with no difficulty.

Since there wasn’t anything to say to that Lee concentrated on getting every bit of speed he could out of the tractor. The machine wasn’t built for speed. With the deliberate, ponderous movements of a geriatric horse it slowly lumbered across the ice toward where they’d left the Seaview.

“We’re never going to make it. You shouldn’t have come for us. What were you thinking?”

“You’re my responsibility.”

“What?” Wilson asked.

Lee shook his head not bothering to look away from the snow obscured view out the windshield. There was no way he could explain to this man about crew and passengers and his responsibility for the lives entrusted to him. Wilson had demonstrated his inability to understand that simple fact of life on the Portland.

<<<<<<<<

Nelson had waited. They were late, six minutes past the safe departure time for Seaview and Nelson was still there. The magnificent boat sat half buried in the ice, waiting for their return.

Chip had a dozen men on shore to help them out of the snow cat and into the boat. There were no words exchanged as they were hustled across the ice and through the big cargo hatch. The boat was diving even as the hatch was dogged tight.

Lee left the cold of the storage area and the activity around the returning shore party to hurry through the boat to the conn. He kept his hands tucked under his arms, almost groaning with the pain of the returning circulation. He paused at the chart table with Chip’s hand on his shoulder while he took in his XO’s briefing of their course and speed.

“Flood the forward tanks, ten degree down angle on the planes, all ahead flank, take her down to three thousand feet, Let's get as much water as we can between us and Armageddon.”

“Aye, sir.” Chip turned away to give the necessary orders while Lee fumbled with clumsy fingers, getting the mic off its holder.

“This is the captain. We’re going to get a big pressure wave in twenty-two minutes. Get everything strapped down tight and find a place to ride it out. Damage control parties, I want you ready to react as soon as we’re stable again. We’ll come to general quarters in ten minutes.” He double clicked to clear the line and called up Engineering.

“O’Brien give me all the power you can on the engines. Every mile we make is going to give us a better chance of riding this out without damage.”

“Aye, sir, we’re on it.”

Lee put the mic back and turned toward Chip with an arched eyebrow.

“Three thousand feet, Lee, we’re making fifty four knots. I don’t know how long we can maintain that speed without burning something out but maybe long enough.”

Lee realized he was shivering when he felt someone throw a blanket over his shoulders. He turned around to see the admiral standing behind him.

“You shouldn’t have waited, sir.”

“We had a little wiggle room in my estimates, Lee, I used it. We’ll be okay, I won’t say there isn’t going to be some serious rocking and rolling but she can handle it.”

Lee nodded, if Nelson said they could handle the blast then they would handle it.

“We’re at three thousand feet, sir, will that be deep enough to avoid the ice?” Lee asked.

“I don’t know, no one’s ever tried this before.”

“I don’t want to take a chance on being too deep and having the pressure forcing us deeper yet.”

“No, no, you’re right. This is a good compromise.” Nelson rubbed the back of his neck looking at Lee intensely. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, sir, a little cold is all.” He exchanged a look with Chip who’d made a grimace at his words. “Honestly, I got a little chilled is all.” Nelson gave Lee’s shoulder a quick squeeze and walked away toward the bow of the boat.

“You look like a refugee from the ice ages.” Chip said softly, sounding sullen to go with the frown.

“Yeah, well, I guess that’s sort of how I feel. But it doesn’t mean I’m not all right.”

“Yeah, sure,” Chip muttered loud enough for Lee to hear him. “Broken ribs, needs surgery for his stomach, frost bitten fingers, sure, you’re fine.”

Lee looked up from the chart to meet Chip’s eyes. “Yeah, actually, I feel okay. Malone and Wilson are on board; the admiral says we’re going to clear the blast. No one died. I think I saved some lives here. I’m okay with that Chip, I’m okay with quite a bit.”

Chip’s face cleared. “That at least is good news. You still need to get some sleep.”

“Let’s weather this latest potential disaster and I think I could sleep for a week.”

He met Chip’s eyes and returned their searching look with as candid a stare as he could manage. Finally, Chip nodded, apparently satisfied with whatever he’d seen. “Well, good then.”

“General Quarters, Mr. Morton.”

“Aye, sir,” Chip said very formally with a smile on his face and picked up the mic.

The pressure wave from the atomic blast was everything they’d feared and the Seaview everything Nelson had promised. A few blown circuits and a couple of bruised crewmen and a few scary minutes of uncontrolled diving and they were once more on an even keel and headed south.

Of course, the admiral had been correct in his estimates. Not only about the Seaview. The atomic explosion had prevented the awful earthquake that would have laid waste to most of the Pacific coast. They maybe hadn’t saved the world, but they’d saved a significant portion of it.

Lee left Chip supervising the clean up and fell into his rack and a black hole of exhaustion. When he woke sixteen hours had passed and they were almost clear of the ice.

He took the long approach to the control room, wandering aft and moving slowly forward through all of the manned compartments. Stopping and speaking to crewmen he now knew. Hearing their stories of the “big wave” and accepting shyly offered words of thanks for his rescue of Malone.

He stopped in the missile room to talk to the COB about their trek across the ice, commiserating with him about blistered hands and feet. As he left he saw Kowalski checking over the diving gear. He stood beside him for a moment, watching him work until the crewman looked up at him interrogatively.

“Sir?”

“I wanted to apologize for hitting you the night I came on board. There was no excuse for my doing that. It wasn’t right.” Lee stopped before he said too much and made to turn away.

“Sir…about that. It was no big deal.” Kowalski rubbed his jaw and smiled at Crane, “Well, it seemed like a big deal at the time, but it’s been a great story since then and well, no hard feelings, Skipper.”

“Thanks.” Lee said and returned his smile. He left the missile room with a lighter stride. Skipper. What a boat. A submarine as a research vessel. Only Admiral Nelson would have thought of such a thing. It was almost impossible to believe that anyone, even someone as amazing as Nelson could manage to get her built. But what a thing. He trailed his hand along the corridor wall for a short distance. What a boat.

“Lee, the admiral wants you to go to the nose,” Chip said, meeting him at the chart table.

Lee checked their position and did a quick circuit of the conn before heading forward.

“Sir, you wanted to see me?”

Nelson was sitting at the conference table with Dr. Wilson. The two of them had folders, laptops and charts spread out over the entire surface. Wilson gave him that slightly sardonic look he seemed to wear perpetually and then a small smile. “Crane,” he offered by way of greeting. “That was very clever with the explosives on the snow cat.”

“Doctor,” Lee returned. He didn’t think they would ever be friends, but at least they were speaking. Lee decided that was probably as much acquaintance as either of them would ever want.

Nelson got up from the table and putting his hand on Lee’s back directed him over to the opposite corner of the room.

“Lee. I want to know if you would consider taking command here on a permanent basis. It would mean leaving the navy,” Nelson hurried on when Lee looked at him with amazement. “You could remain in the reserves. It would be the end of your naval career for all intents and purposes if you remained here more then a couple of years. But I can promise you some amazing opportunities at NIMR and on this boat if you’re interested.” Nelson stopped speaking and looked at him as if he was uncertain of his answer.

“Are you sure, Admiral?”

“It’s hard to change the world, Lee. I certainly can’t end war, protect the world’s children and prevent injustice. But with Seaview and the right crew we can maybe hold a part of the dike in place. We can repair some of the harm done and we can be a force against anarchy and evil. That’s what I’m offering you.” Nelson put his hand on Lee’s shoulder, “This would be a chance to do good for the world. You saved two men’s lives yesterday. On this cruise I think you helped save the lives of millions along the pacific coasts.”

“Us on Seaview, saving the world from disaster.” Lee smiled broadly. “Me, captain of the most amazing boat in the world, sailing with the best crew on any ship?” Lee looked out through the big windows at the swirling water. “Me,” he said more softly, his face suddenly closed and solemn as he felt the memory of Bakharkhan tugging at him. It was only a moment and quickly passed, a sharp fleeting pain. He turned toward the admiral, the smile again in place.

“Thank you, sir. I can’t think of anything in the world better than what you’ve offered me here. I will do everything in my power to make sure you never regret this.”

“I have no doubt of that, Lee. No doubt at all.”