Chip & Lee’s Very Bad Day

(“All You Need Is Duct Tape”)

by LeeLee Robinson

(leeleerobinson@comcast.net)

Chapter 1

Lee Crane wondered if he was dreaming that a phone was ringing or if a phone actually was ringing. His hugged the pillow tightly to his head. Mercifully, the sound stopped. Then it began again. “Real, damn it.”

He reached his arm across the nightstand and saw the clock glowing: 5:14 a.m. “NIMR” blazed on the front of his cell phone.

“Crane,” he mumbled.

“Lee, it’s Angie. I’m sorry for calling so early.”

“It can’t be good if you’re calling me at two a.m, Pacific.” Lee felt his stomach fluids gurgle as if to gird against what he was about to hear. Maybe the rich New Orleans food and too much to drink were also at fault.

“It’s nothing to panic about, Lee.”

“At least not yet, you mean?”

“Seaview’s experiencing a bit of mechanical trouble. Mr. O’Brien would like you and Chip to pick up replacement parts and bring them aboard before things get out of hand.”

Lee rolled his legs to the floor and sat up as he pondered Angie’s words. “Let me understand this. O’Brien asked, not the admiral. O’Brien implied a.s.a.p. I take it that I should read between the lines here.”

“Maybe talking to Bobby, I mean Mr. O’Brien, would be a good idea.”

“First, tell me all you know.”

“Not that much. It’s something to do with the air revitalization control system. Seems like they’ve been burning through relay circuits at a crazy rate. Bobby thinks it’s a bad batch of relays, but says things seemed to have calmed down since they replaced the voltage regulation module. Replacement parts are being flown in to the Institute as we speak. They should be here by 0900.”

“I think I get the picture. You can patch me through Bobby when we’re done.”

“Thanks for keeping me out of the middle, Lee.”

“Angie, just out of an abundance of caution, throw in any extra parts to the air revitalization system that we may have in storage.”

“Everything?”

“No, limit it to electrical and moving parts. Don’t worry about filters and the like.”

“Are you worried about a larger failure, Lee?”

“I just like to be prepared. Also, after you connect me to Seaview, could you do me a favor and call Chip to let him know. That way, I can get moving faster.”

“He’s not with you?”

“With me? I thought those rumors died a long time ago.”

“You know I didn’t mean that! I just figured you were staying a room or two apart as usual.”

“Paul’s sister insisted I stay with the family since I was a groomsman. You don’t argue with a force of nature.”

“One of those. Is she married?”

“Let’s just say that when I said yes to staying with her, I thought she still was.”

“Sounds like you spent the weekend on the run.”

“Pretty much. Chip’s at the Lake Ponchartrain Arms, Room 136.”

“I’ll call him right after I patch you through to Bobby.”

“Thanks. Grab some shut eye when you can. I’d hate to see bags under those beautiful eyes.”

A minute later, Sparks acknowledged Lee. “He’ll be with you in a minute, skipper.”

“Where’s the admiral?”

“In his lab with Professor Tolliver. Do you want him too?”

“No, let’s not disturb him until after I talk to Mr. O’Brien.”

“He’s coming through the door now, skipper.”

“Sorry to interrupt your leave, captain.”

“No problem. I got a general idea from Angie what’s going on. How serious is this?”

“Sparks, give me a few minutes, will you?” O’Brien spoke softly to Lee afterwards. “We think we’ve fixed the problem, but we don’t have enough spare relays if it should recur. If that happens, we’ll either have to get to periscope depth and use the snorkel mast or surface for fresh air.”

“But it’s monsoon season.”

“That and we’re getting seismic instability readings in the area.”

“That could mean a tsunami. You don’t want to be on or near the surface then.”

“No, sir. That was my thinking.”

“So let me guess. A certain senior officer doesn’t want to interrupt the mission by moving to a safer place yet.”

“He feels confident that we can handle the eventualities.”

“That’s quite the compliment, Bobby.”

“If only it felt that way, skipper. I’m not nearly as confident, nor is engineering.”

“Chip and I will rendezvous with you as soon as possible.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

“One more thing. There’s no need to let the admiral know that we’re returning early. I’ll deal with any fallout when I get there.”

“Thanks, skipper. He sure does like to get his own way. If I hadn’t seen you deal with him over the years, I’m not sure I would have had the courage to hold my own.”

“You’re a good man, Bobby. I trust your judgment as to the men’s safety completely. The admiral just gets caught up in other stuff. We should be in FS1 in about an hour or so. Don’t hesitate to call.”

Lee dragged himself to the washroom and splashed some cool water on his face. Given the hour, and the circumstances, he decided to throw on his dress blues that he’d worn at the wedding. His commander bars could come in handy getting in and out of NAS JRB New Orleans quickly on a Sunday morning. Their wrinkled state was less than ideal, but Lee decided that he’d best use the few minutes he could spare to leave a thank you note to his hostess explaining his hasty departure instead of ironing. Darlene would be unhappy that he’d left, but she would understand his skipping brunch. No matter. Lee could count on Chip to gripe about missing brunch.

Chapter 2

Lee waited two minutes in the turnaround at Chip’s hotel. Chip didn’t show. Lee called Chip’s cell. The call went straight to voicemail. With a twitch of irritation, Lee closed the roof of the rental convertible and locked it before he headed inside the Lake Ponchartrain Arms.

“Would you let Chip Morton in Room 136 know that Commander Crane is here to pick him up? Thanks.”

Lee didn’t wait for the desk clerk to connect the call or even respond. Instead, he headed to Chip’s room. He had a hunch that Chip would be feeling a little ragged after too much partying at the wedding. He might need a hand to get moving.

As Lee approached Chip’s room, he heard movement inside. Lee’s right hand was on the door handle just as Chip yanked it open from inside unexpectedly pulling Lee forward. A moment later, Chip’s bag collided hard with Lee’s right shin, as Chip kicked his bag outside the door.

“Bye, Marta. Sorry to run like this, but duty calls.” Chip took a step forward without looking ahead. He tripped over his bag and fell forward onto Lee. “Ow!” Chip groaned as he dragged himself off the floor.

“Ow, yourself!” Lee shook his right wrist.

“Sorry, Lee.”

Chip’s hungover appearance was not a surprise to Lee, nor was the presence of the blond he could see in Chip’s bed. “Bye, Marta,” Lee sung out a bit facetiously. “Sorry to steal lover boy away.”

Chip lagged behind Lee by several feet. The front desk clerk looked questioningly toward Chip.

“Checking out early,” Chip called out.

“Any minibar use, sir?”

“Oh, Lord, yes. Just add it to my credit card when the lady leaves. Duty calls,” Chip said and pointed toward Lee, as Chip had foregone the uniform. He wore khakis and a polo shirt. “Did you already have coffee, Lee?”

“No”

“Then how in hell can you be so together after that party last night?”

“Some of us called it a night before 0200.”

“You escaped Darlene?”

“Barely. It helped that I was watering down my drinks all night.”

“Smart move.”

“You on the other hand, were not so smart.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Marta lives in Minnesota and comes without strings. Darlene, well, I think she’s pencilled you in to replace Randolph.”

“We’ll pick up some coffee on the way.”

“Thanks. In gratitude, I won’t mention Darlene again.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Lee unlocked the car. Chip threw his bag in what passed for a backseat and plopped down in the passenger seat. Lee started the car and retracted the roof as he slowly pulled out to the curb. Chip appeared to be in a light sleep almost as fast as the roof had fully retracted. Lee couldn’t resist the empty roads and revved the car well above the speed limit. The cool morning air smacked Chip in the face.

“Nice move.”

“What?”

“Waking me up that way. How can you be such a stickler for safety aboard Seaview and the moment you get in a car, you turn into a lunatic?”

Lee opened his mouth to answer, then shut it, deeming it pointless. Chip had already turned sideways to get his face out of the breeze and to resume his snoozing. Halfway to the car rental location, Lee zipped into a gas station mini-market. He left a sleeping Chip in place and went inside for coffee.

He returned with a cup for Chip and himself, but if there was one flaw with renting convertible sports cars, it was a lack of cup holders, or at least finding hidden cup holders. Lee went to the passenger side of the car and wafted one cup under Chip’s nose, expecting his Exec to respond. He was not disappointed.

“Manna from the heavens.”

“I’d keep my expectations more down to earth,” Lee laughed. The coffee was bitter and grounds had escaped the filter into the brew. “More like better than nothing.”

Chip took his cup gratefully. “Thanks. How far from base are we?”

“Only twenty minutes, but we’ve got to drop this baby off first.” Lee awkwardly strapped himself in the driver’s seat while trying not to spill the coffee. Pleased at his success, he put the car into first gear and pulled out of the station. Revving the car into second and then third proved more challenging, as it required Lee to steer with his left forearm and elbow while continuing to hold the coffee. The straight road made it easier. A few seconds later, the car cruised easily in fourth gear on the empty streets.

“Chip, how about if you call the number on the visor and see if they can give us a ride to base or otherwise arrange us a ride?”

“Uh, sure. Can I have your phone?”

“Where’s yours?”

“In my bag. Out of juice.”

“Why don’t you charge it now?”

“Well, if you want the truth of it, I forget my charger.”

“At the hotel?”

“A little further.”

“Seaview?”

“Bingo.”

Lee reached inside his breast pocket with his right hand, while he held his coffee with his left hand. His left forearm and elbow rested on the steering wheel, keeping it steady, at least until the driver’s front wheel bounced through a pot hole. Lee managed to keep the car straight, but the coffee flew upward, landing mostly on his left pant leg. Some caught his shirt too. “Shit.”

“They do offer lids for these, my friend. You also could have asked me to hold your coffee,” Chip sniggered.

“Hold my coffee,” Lee said, returning his right hand to the wheel and not exercising much care in passing the coffee to Chip.

A splash of coffee hit Chip’s left pant leg. “Hey, that was mean spirited.”

Lee ignored him and firmly gripped the wheel with his left hand while he reached into his pocket for the phone. He plopped the phone on Chip’s lap.

Chip, holding two cups of coffee, decided against reciprocating the splash, out of concern for frying the sole working phone between them and also considering the number of hours they had left before reaching Seaview -- many hours during which Lee might plot counter-revenge. Chip gingerly returned Lee’s coffee to Lee’s empty hand and made the call to the rental office.

Chip had just finished arranging the return of the car and a ride to base when a large raindrop fell directly into his coffee cup. Splash. More coffee on his pants.

Lee chuckled. “Going to be one of those days. Hope things are going more smoothly aboard Seaview.”

“Do you really think we need to be hurrying back?”

“I trust Bobby.”

“The admiral doesn’t seem to agree with him.”

“What about that surprises you?”

“Bobby can be a little overcautious.”

“Where do you think he learned that?”

Chip smiled. “From the master.”

“More like the Mister, Mr. Morton.”

“Yeah, speaking of which,” Chip said without finishing his sentence. Instead, he reached for the button on the dash to raise the roof.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lee yelled as he rapidly braked. More of Lee’s coffee sloshed onto Lee’s legs.

“It’s going to pour any minute.”

“Don’t you know you have to be going slow when you do that?”

“Sorry, I only know yours. There aren’t any buttons on it.”

Lee dumped the last few sips of his coffee out onto the tarmac, placed the empty cup on the floor, and patiently waited for the top to finish closing, hoping no damage had been done. The top on Lee’s side stopped short of fully closed, enough so that Lee couldn’t pull it down from the inside to clamp it. Lee pulled over to the shoulder. He gave Chip a frosty look, but given how wet and dirty Lee already was, he decided just to take care of it himself. He climbed halfway onto the hood for leverage and pressed the roof down and in. “See if you can clip it now. Fast.” The rain had picked up pace.

Chip managed to clip Lee’s side of the roof in place. “Sorry, pal,” he said as his wet friend slid back into the car. “Karma’s a bitch,” he added beneath his breath, loud enough for Lee to hear.

“You’ll think so when I send you the repair bill.”

Chip pouted.

Five minutes later, they arrived at the rental car company. The rain foiled the initial plan for the agent to drive with them to the base. There was no way a third person could sit in the small back area of the convertible with the roof in place. Instead, the agent had them wait curbside while he retrieved a sedan. Lee removed his cell phone out of his now sodden breast pocket intending to call Angie. It was wet and dead. He looked up at the sky shaking his head in defeat. Chip barely suppressed a giggle.

Meanwhile, neither man noticed the growing puddle in front of the curb. As the rental agent pulled up, dirty water sloshed Chip and Lee’s lower legs and bags. Lee felt the water creep from his socks into his shoes. His face contorted briefly in frustration, but a moment later both he and Chip broke into laughter.

The agent drove them to the base never knowing he’d splashed them. Lee didn’t hold a grudge, pulling out a twenty as a tip for the ride. Chip and Lee continued to laugh at each other as they entered the base. Neither made a great impression on the base officials, but at that early hour, there was little danger of any brass seeing them. With much relief, they entered FS1.

“Well, that was a fun way to start the day!” Chip said.

“And enough of it for the rest,” Lee agreed.

If only.

_Chapter 3

The relief of being back on familiar turf lasted for nearly an hour. Lee felt more amiable after he’d changed into dry jeans and a black turtleneck before takeoff.

Chip had changed too. He looked truer to form in his uniform, the only item in his bag that had stayed dry thanks to the dry cleaner’s bag it was wrapped inside.

“Should we check in with Bobby?” Chip asked.

“No, I don’t think we have to hold his hand. He’ll call us if he needs to.”

“I suppose. It’s hard to let go sometimes.”

“You noticed that? Not that there aren’t times when it’s a relief to let go, to have competent people working with you whom you trust to handle things properly.”

“Did I just hear a compliment?”

“Yes, Chip. I couldn’t do it without you. Well, this morning I could have, but that’s behind us now.”

“Paul and Renee seem really happy.”

“If you’re not happy on your wedding night, what hope is there for the honeymoon?”

“I do regret missing the brunch today. Boy, do they know how to party in New Orleans!”

“True enough. I’ll never forget the first time Paul invited me to visit. Took me a whole week before I recovered. I don’t know how anyone gets any work done here. Certainly not on weekends!”

“Did Darlene really chase you around all weekend? And did you really mind?”

“Yes, and yes.”

“Why?”

“There’s nothing there that would justify risking my friendship with Paul and the rest of his family.”

“Maybe she just wanted to have some fun?”

“No, Darlene wants very specific things.”

“Things you can’t give her.”

“Things I don’t want to give her.”

“Time for me to shut up?”

“Yes. How about you check the weather from Santa Barbara to Micronesia and plot a course or two?”

“Why more than one?”

“Depending on how the situation rolls, we might want to go supersonic.”

“No longing glances at Hawaii?”

“Not if we go above Mach 1. We’ll catch hell if we disrupt the tourists for anything less than national security. Ditto on the Marshalls too.”

“Then I, for one, hope Bobby can hold her together. That’s one tedious ride without anything to look at. On the other hand, why don’t we just take the fast route and get it over with?”

“I don’t want to push our luck and go all out without a reason. She can be a bit testy in the transition,” Lee whispered the last part, as if FS1 could hear or understand.

Chip pulled the preflight checklist off its curved hook in front of them, planning to use the pad beneath for his charting. The tip of the hook broke off leaving a jagged spike behind.

“You didn’t whisper softly enough!” Chip guffawed.

“Clearly.”

Chip plotted alternate courses while Lee apologized to his “girl,” all the while compulsively checking and rechecking her systems.

“All good?” Chip asked as Lee seemed to ponder something.

“Huh?”

“Any problems?”

“No. Just thinking about the air revitalization issue. How much simpler it was before everything was so computerized.”

“Simpler to operate, but a lot more foul ups. Now we can monitor membranes and filters constantly, pumps too, instead of posting someone in a room 24/7. Better air, better sailing.”

“We still need someone monitoring it 24/7. We still need humans to fix the hardware and software.”

“Yes, but one person can be watching multiple systems at a time. Heck, truth is we’re all redundant now.”

“You forget that I was on that man alone with a computer cruise. It’s not that simple. A crew of humans is definitely still needed.”

“Yeah, well, that said, if Seaview were a military ship, instead of a research ship, I think we could run her fine with half the men.”

“Maybe. I do know that if we took fewer mad scientists aboard, we’d for sure have less need for security personnel.” An alert off to the right of Lee interrupted their conversation. “Is that from the panel I think it is?”

“Assuming I can read your thoughts, yes,” Chip responded.

“Air revitalization?”

“Call me the Amazing Kreskin.”

“Go check the relays and the voltage regulation module, Amazing Kreskin.”

“Will do, boss.”

“Well, the good news is that we’re close enough to Santa Barbara that even if it failed -- and by saying this I am not trying to tempt fate -- we should have plenty of breathable air to land.”

“True, and we have the option of landing sooner if necessary. Is it necessary?”

“I’ll let you know what happens after I swap out a bad relay.” Chip returned to his chair. Ten minutes of silence passed. “So far, so good.”

“Check the log book. I seem to recall that’s not the first relay that’s been replaced in the last several months.”

“I don’t think we need to worry too much if there’s been several months between replacements, Lee.”

“Given that FS1 hasn’t been used that much in the last few months, I’m not convinced that’s a comforting fact.”

Chip returned to his chair with the log book.

“Strap in, Chip.”

“Bumpy air ahead?”

“No, I was just thinking of the kind of day it’s already been and erring on the side of caution.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, Lee,” Chip agreed and automatically followed through. Keeping his eyes open pouring through the log book proved more challenging. “Fascinating reading. Simply nap inducing.”

“We’ll shift out en route to Seaview. We can both use more sleep.”

“We can both sleep by making liberal use of autopilot.”

“You can if you want.”

“Show off.”

“I like to fly her.”

“Uh oh.”

“What?”

“There have been two replacement relays in the last three months.”

“Over how many flying hours?”

“Thirty.”

“Sounds like confirmation of a bad batch of relays to me.”

“Could be a bad voltage regulator module,” Chip suggested.

“FS1 uses a different kind made by a different manufacturer than the one used on the boat.”

“No wonder you’re still single. Your mind is full of the most mundane details.”

“That mundane detail means we’ve isolated the problem.”

“But Bobby said that the new voltage regulation module seems to have done the trick.”

“Seems to, is the operative description.”

“I suppose it’s possible that a batch of bad relays -- and we’re talking piss poor ones -- could short out the voltage regulation module over time. My guess is that the boat should be fine until well after we’re back.”

“I hate to pull the photographic memory on you, buddy, but I think we replaced the air revitalization voltage regulation module on Seaview within the last two months.”

“Seriously?”

Lee looked cross-eyed at Chip.

“Damn, you’re scary.”

“I’ve heard that from a rating or two,” Lee said with a wink.

“Why would you remember that?”

“Because I’ve don’t have a life outside work?”

“No, besides the obvious reason?”

“I don’t know. I guess I signed the requisition for it.”

“Along with hundreds of others.”

“Want to test me on those?”

“I think I’d rather count sheep.”

“You do that. I’m going to touch base with Angie. FS1 to NIMR.”

“Acknowledged, FS1. This is NIMR.”

“We’re almost there, Angie. Have the parts arrived?”

“Yes.”

“Any word from Seaview?”

“No. I suppose that’s good news.”

“With a little luck we’ll get there in plenty of time to replace the relays. Angie, would you mind checking to see if we have an extra voltage regulation module for the Flying Sub’s air revitalization system on base or on Seaview?”

“Hold on a moment, Lee. . . . No. It’s on backorder. Is it urgent?”

“I hope not. I suppose we could make do with one pulled from a commercial airliner, if we had to.”

“Do you want me to try to track one down?”

“No, I was just thinking out loud. It’d take a few hours to locate one and it wouldn’t fit in properly, so we’d have to find some other way to secure the panel cover. All in all, I’d rather get to Seaview sooner.”

“Lee, the admiral wouldn’t want you to take any unnecessary risks. He doesn’t view this as a crisis.”

“Tell you what. Have four extra air tanks with an hour’s worth of air each ready for us. If our module goes bad, we’ll kick her into high gear and be fine on the tanks.”

“Okay, but I’ll see if I can work some magic too.”

“If any one could, it’d be you, Angie. FS1 out.”

“You smooth dog,” Chip yawned.

“Nothing but the gospel truth,” Lee defended.

Chapter 4

Angie met them dockside at NIMR. “Welcome home, Chip, Lee. If you can wait an hour, an extra voltage regulation module for FS1 will be here.”

“Original equipment?”

“No.”

“Then no, we’ll go. No worries,” Lee said.

“You are worried though, about Seaview?”

“As Chip likes to remind me, it’s why I don’t have much of a life outside the boat.”

“You know I’d be happy to help you change that anytime.”

“Eh hem,” Chip interrupted. “I could use a hand loading these tanks and the parts.”

Lee’s arm had maneuvered onto Angie’s back. “I’m sure you can find someone over there to help.”

Chip shrugged and did as told. On his two hopeful dates with Angie, she’d spent a lot of time fishing about Lee. Chip attempted his best moves, failed, then took the hint and bowed out gracefully.

Chip threw the occasional glance back at the two. Angie was just as neurotically responsible as Lee. It would never work, not that Chip would mind seeing them try. No one could avoid a serious relationship like Lee. His excuse always came down to one thing, his other girl -- Seaview -- and her crew. The demands of Admiral Nelson and the boat were daunting. How many times had Lee’s dates or rare vacations been interrupted by some emergency or other, just like this weekend?

A brief hug, friendly but not excessively so, told Chip that Lee had concluded his business with Angie. Lee did seem a little more buoyant afterwards.

“She’s a dynamite gal, Lee.”

“No question about that.”

“Maybe you should get a little more aggressive.”

“We’re too much alike, Chip.”

“I know, but still. It’s not like you have any other irons in the fire. Except maybe Darlene?”

Lee gently slapped Chip on the back. “You are relentless.”

“That’s what makes me so valuable.”

“Sadly true, my friend, sadly true. Let’s get moving.”

“Nothing new still?”

“No.”

“Then why not wait the hour for the part for FS1?”

“A commercial airplane module will be twice as large as FS1’s custom one. We won’t be able to secure the panel closed.”

“There’s always duct tape.”

“Do you want to count on duct tape at supersonic speed?”

“Might be fine. Last year, I was flying to Denver on a commercial flight and we were delayed for an hour for a repair. We’re about to take off, but the guy behind me calls the flight attendant because he sees something loose hanging off the edge of the wing. A bunch of us look out, and at least three people said it aloud at once: ’duct tape.’ Some of the passengers looked really rattled, so the flight attendant went to talk to the pilots and a mechanic went to check it out. This guy then starts using more duct tape to tape down the piece of loose duct tape. People are still edgy, looking at each other as if maybe they aren’t so eager to fly in that crate. Finally the pilot comes on and explains that repairs have been made and that what was used was ‘high grade aviation tape, like tape used on NASCAR cars.’”

“That made them feel better?”

“Those cars go as fast as that plane did, so yes.”

“Please explain to me how anyone could watch that?”

“For the crashes, is my guess. As much as you love your Cobra, you can’t see any attraction?”

“Driving in circles for hours on end does not appeal to me, at least as a form of entertainment.”

“Well, it’s more exciting than driving a sub.”

“I wouldn’t spend my time watching someone else do that either, not just for fun.”

“Oh, but the things that go wrong, and the adventures we’ve had!”

“Maybe yielding a whopping forty-five minutes of excitement over the course of a week, but to watch for hours on end waiting for something interesting to happen, no, we’re downright boring.”

“Well, no one ever accused you of being the common man.”

“How about we stop analyzing me and get a move on?”

“Right after I make sure these extra air tanks are properly secured.” Chip waved his right arm in front of Lee to exhibit the roll of duct tape. “It’s the high grade aviation type.”

“After we take off, I think you should get some shuteye. You’re punchy.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer, kind sir.”

After a smooth takeoff, Chip quickly fell asleep in his chair. About two hours into the flight, soft little snores from Chip had Lee’s head starting to loll in his chair. Lee reached out for the autopilot control, but then went for the radio instead.

“FS1 to Seaview, come in.”

“Seaview here, FS1.”

“Is Mr. O’Brien available?”

“One moment, sir.”

“O’Brien here, skipper.”

“Anything new?”

“We’re running out of relays. Still not sure if it’s bad voltage regulation modules or the relays themselves.”

“I think I can say with some assurance that it’s the relays. FS1 has similar issues but uses a different kind of voltage regulation module. I think it’s time to pull the plug on the computerized control and run air revitalization manually.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve been talking to the engineers about that. We expect to be able to disengage from the automatic system in about twenty minutes after the diagnostic checks are finished.”

“So much for my indispensability, Mr. O’Brien.”

“We’re not completely out of the woods yet, sir.”

“What else is going on?”

“The main pump is showing signs of premature failure, probably caused by electrical feedback.”

“We do have a functional back up pump on board.”

“Yes, sir, but we’d need to surface for at least a short time to swap that out.”

“How are the seas?”

“Extremely large swells.”

“Then get her moving at flank speed and get out to calmer water before you need to surface.”

“I just have to convince you know who.”

“Let me talk to him.”

“If you want.”

“I do, but let’s think this all the way through first. Even if you replace the pump, there are still two relays in the pump system separate from the automated control system. Do we know if these are from the bad batch?”

“We’d have to pull them to be certain, sir.”

“No, don’t bother. It’s fairly probable they are from the last upgrade and feedback from those relays is far more likely to be the cause of pump failure than feedback from the relays in the automated control system. There are no relays from other production lots on board at all?”

“No.”

“There are similar relays in use elsewhere. See if the engineers can cabbage a couple that aren’t critical and adapt them as necessary. Otherwise, I’d hesitate to pull the existing pump if it means risking the back up pump by continuing to use faulty relays. It seems to me as if there’s an exponential failure rate occurring in these relays, as if they are all nearing the end of their life span at once. Hard to explain how that’s possible, but it must have been a production flaw. Given that, I’d only replace the pump before we get there with new relays if absolutely necessary.”

“Aye, sir.”

“That said, we did pick up an extra pump, just in case. Bobby, do you have any idea why the admiral is being so adamant about not leaving the area?”

“Yes, skipper. Something about a once in a lifetime opportunity to fully observe and document the live birthing of dugongs, which will then hopefully help save them from extinction.”

“Oh, right, the dugongs. Manatee relatives. Well, I think the lives of the men take priority. Patch me through to the admiral.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Lee, it’s the damn middle of the night. What’s the problem?”

“I’ve been talking to Mr. O’Brien about the air revitalization issues.”

“He had no business bothering you.”

“He didn’t.” Lee worked out the white lie as he told it. “I had called Angie to check on things and she told me about a parts issue. After Chip and I talked, we decided to come back early and bring spare parts out to Seaview.”

“I know for certain that there are at least two lies in that part of your tale.”

“Anyway, we’ll be there in about eight hours with a different lot of relays, another voltage regulation module and a back up pump.”

“Fine, if you want to throw your leave away like that, be at it. We’ll be near where we were when you left us.”

“How about moving a couple of hours in our direction, just to be in smoother water if the pump fails? It’d make me feel much more comfortable.”

“How about you not be a remote control captain?”

“I’m only thinking about the welfare of the men, admiral.”

“You are thinking about the absolute worst case scenario, Lee. We don’t have that. The engineers can have the back up pump virtually installed so that if the main fails, they can switch it over in under five minutes. There would be no urgent need to surface for that. We should be able to get by without the pump for five minutes without surfacing.”

“There also remains the risk of the replacement pump shorting out before we get there. Then you’d have no choice but to surface.”

“Run through the back up pump in eight hours? That’s highly improbable.”

“How often has the highly improbable bitten us in the ass, admiral?”

“If that happens, we’ll surface and wait for you.”

“Up to eight hours in huge swells and monsoon weather?”

“You can get here in three hours if you go supersonic. If you’re so darn worried, hurry. We’ll be here. You and the engineers can replace the pump and relays in less than thirty minutes.”

“On the surface, in rolling seas? Many of the men have never had that experience, admiral. Maintenance will be scrubbing puke off the decks round the clock.”

“A baptism of fire, if it comes to that, which in my estimation, it won’t. So the ball is in your court, Lee. You can hurry if you like or poke along if you don’t.”

“Okay, sir. I tried. What part of my story didn’t you believe?”

“The worst of your lies was that Chip willingly left a party in New Orleans early.”

“Fair enough. Just do me a favor and promise to listen objectively to Mr. O’Brien if he says the situation is escalating.”

“Yes, Lee. Nelson out.”

Chip peered at Lee through one squinty eye, keeping the other one shut. “I’d say that could have gone better.”

“I agree. I played too many cards, too early.”

“He’s a sharp one.”

“Don’t I know it! And he’s probably right too. Still . . .”

“Let me guess, you have a feeling?”


“Wake your sleepy self up and we are going to take this baby in the fast way.”

“Aye aye, skipper.”

Chapter 5

“Got that course you plotted earlier?”

“Yep.” Chip pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “You want me to enter it into autopilot now?”

“Much as I’d like to fly her myself at Mach speed, today doesn’t feel like the day to push it.”

“Yeah, and I’d appreciate if you’d save it for a day when I’m not in this chair next to you, cowboy.”

“Chicken.”

“Beats being cream of chicken.”

Lee chuckled. He reached forward for the clipboard with the flight checklists. FS1 suddenly dropped twenty feet as she hit an air pocket.

“Oh shit!” Lee yelled.

“What is it, Lee?”

“My hand,” he panted, “it’s impaled on the damn hook shank.”

“Ouch. Listen, try not to move it until I can get a closer look.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Try anyway.”

Lee grimaced. “I’ll try.”

Chip flipped the autopilot switch on, but before he could unbuckle himself, FS1 hit another air pocket. Lee howled as the motion pulled him slightly back off the shank and then shot his hand further onto it.

“I’ve gotta get off it, Chip.”

Chip hurriedly placed his hand behind Lee’s to stop him. “Lee, that could be more dangerous. Let me get a good look and call Doc first.”

“If we hit another air pocket, I don’t think I can stand it.”

“Then pray we don’t,” Chip said as he picked up the radio with one hand and held his other hand behind Lee’s just in case. “FS1 to Seaview, Medical Emergency, get me Dr. Jamison in a hurry.”

“Patching you through.”

“Jamison here.”

“Doc, it’s Chip. We’ve got a problem. Lee’s impaled his hand on a broken hook shank.”

“How does it look?”

“It’s hard to see anything. His palm is nearly flush up against the control panel. The hook doesn’t come through the back of his hand.”

“Lee, I’m sure it hurts like hell, but until we can assess it, I want you to try not to move it. What part of the hand is involved?”

“Palm, low, between thumb and forefinger,” Lee grunted.

“Chip, without moving Lee’s hand off the shank, press your fingers on the top of Lee’s thumb for about ten seconds.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Now what?”

“Now release it and observe the skin color.”

“Pinkish with a hint of blue.”

“Keep watching and let me know if the blue disappears.”

“No.”

“Lee, do you feel anything in your thumb or forefinger.”

“Some tingling.”

“What’s the length and width of this object?”

“Probably about three quarters of an inch long, about as wide as a roofing nail. It’s the clipboard hook on the console, with the tip off,” Chip said.

“How far are you from a hospital?”

“We could divert to Hawaii, probably would take an hour to get there, more to get to a hospital,” Chip said.

“Which means you’re no where close to Seaview?”

“We could be if we go to Mach speed,” Lee said.

“We’d have to push her to Mach two or three to make similar time. It would mean some rough riding, Lee. It makes no sense.”

“Attention, attention, all crew prepare to surface. External air revitalization protocols initiating.”

“Doc, what the hell is going on there?”

“Don’t worry, Lee. I’m sure Mr. O’Brien and the admiral know what they are doing. Let’s focus on you for the time being.”

“Trust me, I could use the distraction.”

“Chip, get the first aid kit. Give Lee four ibuprofen and then inject him with the preloaded syringe that reads ‘Broad Spectrum Antibiotic.’”

“Where?”

“His upper arm or thigh would be easiest. Right through the fabric is okay.”

“Will do.”

“Lee, describe how the hand looks and feels now?”

“Still pinkish, bluish, maybe slightly more bluish. Thumb tingles more, pins and needles. Little on the painful side. First finger too.”

“Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Chip, I want you to pack a little gauze between the hand and the control panel if possible, to help stem any bleeding. If there’s no way to do it without backing off the hand, then skip it. Then pack some gauze behind the hand and tape it in place.”

“Doc, you’ve got to be kidding me?” Lee groaned.

“No, I’m very serious. Lee, it would be best to keep the hand in place until you reach medical care. It sounds probable that the radial artery has been compromised. If you pull it off that spike, you could lose circulation to your fingers. If that goes on long enough, the damage could become irreversible. Depending on the severity of the piercing, you could also bleed out.”

“How about a tourniquet, Doc?”

“It may come down to that at some point, but if so, the less time the better. Right now it sounds like there is some, albeit diminishing, circulation. That’s far better than none, so we want to keep the object in place.”

“Doc, if we hit another air pocket, there’s no way I’m not going to pull it off this damn spike.”

“We have to find a way. Chip, move Lee’s chair forward as close as possible to the console. Loosen his harness to make him more comfortable. You could even put a blanket or two behind him. That will help him stay in place, but Lee, medical tape isn’t that strong, so you’ll have to fight the urge to pull back.”

“We could use duct tape to hold it,” Chip offered tentatively.

“Do it. Then get him to the big island as fast as you can. We’ll . . . oh, Jesus.” The sounds of things sliding or falling could be heard on the mike.

“Are you all right, Jamie? What’s the matter?”

“Boat’s rolling. Going to be a lot of bruises and bumps if not worse if this keeps up.” The sound of upchucking followed.

“You okay, Doc?” Chip asked.

“Seasick. Like I haven’t been in twenty years.”

“Jamie, transfer me back to Mr. O’Brien, or the admiral, if Bobby’s not available.”

A tense thirty seconds later, O’Brien answered. “Skipper, worst case scenario. We switched to the second pump. It blew out minutes later. We had to surface for air exchange as the snorkel mast wasn’t going to do the job. We’re experiencing monsoon rain and twenty to forty foot rolls at the surface.”

“Hang on, Bobby. Hopefully we’ll be there with your parts in two, no more than, three hours. Batten down the hatches.”

“Will do, skipper. Thanks.”

“No, Lee, you can’t do that. That hand will need emergency surgery to repair the artery. It won’t be stable enough to do the procedure on Seaview until we can dive and I’m not the best one to perform it anyway,” Dr. Jamison objected.

“Damn, I thought he hung up,” Lee whispered to Chip. “Break off radio contact now, Chip. That’s an order.”

Chip eyed Lee for a moment before he complied. “FS1 out.”

Chapter 6

“I think we should listen to Jamie and divert, Lee. The men can cope.”

“Do what Jamie said with the gauze and tape my hand to the console. I’d suggest using the high grade aviation duct tape.”

“Lee, I know it’ll be uncomfortable aboard Seaview, but you heard the Doc. You could lose your hand.”

“Bumps and bruises, my ass. There will be broken bones too. Boat gets tossed around like a rag on the surface too long, other things will go wrong. It’s decided. Get me taped up and we push her to Mach 2.”

“That’s going to hurt like hell and you know it.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and pass out. Use lots of tape. No, belay that. Do we have bolt cutters aboard?”

“We should.”

“Get them.”

Chip retrieved the bolt cutters and brought them near Lee. He held them beside Lee’s hand and assessed the possibility. He shook his head. You’d have to back your hand off the spike for me to fit these in and that might lead to bleeding out.”

Lee took the bolt cutters from Chip and performed his own assessment. “Duct tape, it is then.”

Chip did his best to tape the hand down without covering any instrument controls they might need. After, Chip made certain that Lee was as packed into his seat as possible. “Are you sure about this?”

“Let’s just get it over with fast.”

“Maybe you should initiate the program. I haven’t done supersonic protocols before. Since you know what to expect, maybe you’ll be in a better position to control your reaction.”

“You have a point, not that it will really help that much. She’s going to buffet. You’ll start to worry she’s falling apart, but the stabilizers will kick in soon and she’ll hold together.” Lee patted the console with his left hand. “Here goes nothing.”

Moments later, as the violent vibrations began, Lee’s eyes rolled back in his head. He’d passed out. Chip was thankful for it. If Lee hadn’t warned him, he’d have been certain that FS1 was about to disintegrate. After about twenty seconds, however, she settled into a smooth ride. Chip was awed as he watched from the window. It was as if FS1 was still, but the earth moved as a block beneath them.

Lee lolled back to consciousness. Instinctively he pulled back, but the tape stopped him. “Damn.”

“Glad that’s over, I bet?”

“Round one goes to the hook.”

“We could turn around and head for Honolulu.”

“No. Call Seaview. Check in.”

“You just want a distraction.”

“You think?”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Chip said as he turned his head to the side to track an alert.

Lee tried to turn, but his awkward position made him stop short. “Let me guess. Our air circulation system just failed?”

“Yep.”

“Here I thought I was sweating because my hand is impaled on the console.”

“This is now officially the day from hell,” Chip said as he opened the panel. “Hope we don’t regret not waiting that hour for the voltage regulation module.”

“Won’t make any difference. Break out the air tanks and the duct tape. Attach them to the backs of our chairs as tightly as you can. When we go back to normal speed, they will rattle around like hell.”

“Not to mention when we dock on Seaview in the rolls. I have to agree with Doc. I don’t see how you’re going to handle that action.”

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

Chip quickly daisy chained two tanks behind each chair, securing them with abundant duct tape. “Here’s your regulator. I’m thinking it might not be a bad idea to tape it to you, just in case.”

“No, I’m already feeling too much like a mummy. Just leave it under my armpit.”

“I’d feel better if you put it on and we secured it.”

“Stand down, mother. We’ve got at least thirty minutes of decent air left in here before we need to resort to the tanks.”

“Lee, there’s no need to push it. We’ve also got an extra forty-five minutes apiece if we utilize FS1‘s regular tanks.”

“Fine, hook those to the other tanks, then in fifteen minutes, I’ll put my regulator on.”

“Thank you.” Chip set about securing FS1’s emergency tanks to the others.

“I’ve got two more requests from you, since I’m sort of stuck here. I’d like some water to drink.”

“No problem.” Chip brought a bottle to Lee post haste. Lee sipped some, then poured some over his head. Chip looked at him with concern but said nothing.

“Now bring me the hacksaw.”

“No, Lee. Jamie would have suggested that if he thought it was a good idea. You and I both know that it could cause further damage.”

“I promise that I won’t use it now. I just want it available as an option. The way things are going . . .”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

Chip brought Lee the hacksaw. Both stared wondering what to do with it. After a moment’s pause, Chip cut off two more pieces of duct tape. He taped the saw just beneath the left side of Lee’s chair.

“Now, call Seaview.”

“That’s three things. You said two.”

Lee rolled his eyes at Chip. “My patience is wearing thin. So is the ibuprofen.”

“FS1 to Seaview.”

“Seaview here.”

“What the situation, Sparks?”

“A lot of sailors are green around the gill, sir. We’re also taking aboard water at the hatches. Pumping it out in these waves is proving a challenge.”

“Is Mr. O’Brien available?”

“He’s back on his feet for now, sir. Here he comes.”

“Sir?”

“How are you and the crew holding up, Mr. O’Brien?”

“Staying up is a problem. The crew will be fighting over the strapped chairs soon.”

“May I assume that you are now heading toward calmer water?”

“Aye, the admiral finally relented, but at surface speed, I doubt we’ll make much headway toward it.”

“Hang on, then. We’ll be there as fast as we can, two hours or so.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“Where’s the admiral?”

“In his cabin, pretending to sleep, I think.”

“You should take that as a compliment. It may be unpleasant, but he believes you have it under control.”

“I’ll try to view it that way. Could you hold for a moment, sir?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Jamison’s voice was the next one Lee heard. “How’s the hand, Lee?”

“Hurts like hell. How about I hacksaw the shank off?”

“I wondered when you’d get around to thinking of that after you figured out that bolt cutters wouldn’t help. Stow the idea. The movement of the saw could be agonizing, not to mention the damage shifting the shank could do.”

“Doc, you’ve never flown FS1 supersonic. There’s a lot of turbulence in the shifting.”

“Oh. Still, the sudden torque of snapping through the metal seems to me a whole lot more dangerous. I really encourage you to hold off unless you have no choice.”

“I’ll make sure of that, Doc,” Chip offered.

“How’s the crew doing?” Lee diverted.

“The sooner you get here, the better for everyone. I’m already out of Dramamine. Air casts will be gone soon too.”

“If we hurry, promise you’ll save me a spot in line?”

“Promise, skipper. Got to run. Another patient beckons.”

“FS1 out.” Lee turned toward Chip. “Let’s push her to Mach 3, Chip.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, so let’s just do it before I can give it a rational thought.”

“I’m on it.”

Lee swallowed deeply, intending to hold his breath as the ship shook. Instead, he puffed it out almost in rhythm with the vibrations that tore at his hand, sending waves of pain through his hand. His breath gave out as the shaking ended, well short of his typical abilities. He gasped in a fresh breath, making no attempt to hide his discomfort.

“You okay, Lee?”

Lee answered with a glare.

“Okay, stupid question. At least you aren’t reaching for the hacksaw yet.”

“I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“Not much choice, and trust me, even if you had the hand free, you’d just be grasping for the chair arm with that hand.” Chip released his death grip on his as proof of the fact.

Lee shook his head. “Since I have no prayer of sleeping, why don’t you take a nap? You’re going to be a busy man when we get to the boat.”

“As you lounge in sick bay?”

“I won’t exactly be useful with this wound.”

“I know you. You’ll find a way, at least until Will corners you.”

“Sleep, Chip. I’m not in the mood for small talk.”

“Okay, I’ll try.” Chip decided that a power nap was a good idea, even if it left Lee brooding by himself. Damn him for being right. Chip bit down on his regulator and attempted forty winks.

Chapter 7

Lee spent the next hour becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his bent over position. Meanwhile, his thumb and forefinger turned bluer and grew more numb. Lee obsessively checked his watch, counting down the minutes until they neared Seaview. Meanwhile, Chip slept like a baby. Lee couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous. However, in just a few more minutes, Chip would be awoken by the buffeting. Then it would be Chip’s show to finish.

Lee played out the scenario to come detail by detail. He’d count down to deceleration and prepare himself mentally for one more round of buffeting. The vibrations would be worse this time, as they decelerated from Mach 3 to a modest 200 m.p.h.. After that, they’d land in extremely rough seas and attempt to dock in a moving target impacted by enormous ocean swells. Lee hadn’t quite figured out how that was going to work yet, although he had an idea or two. Then there would be the effort -- by others, not him -- to replace the pump and relays in those same swells and roils. Nope, nothing fun lay ahead. Yet Chip, bless him, slept like a baby.

An alert from the autopilot broke off Lee’s internal litany and let Lee know that the time had arrived to brace himself for the transition to subsonic speed. For nearly forty seconds, FS1 buffeted, violently at first, then easing, then back to violent before the final easing, during which time Lee spat out his regulator and cried out some choice words using language that he always strived to avoid for decorum’s sake. As the ride smoothed out, Lee panted to his friend and Exec. “Yours to finish now, Chip.”

Chip didn’t answer.

From Lee’s miserable bent over position, Lee eased his head back to look at Chip. Lee had seen Chip sleep through some rough patches, but he couldn’t conceive of Chip sleeping through that turbulence and Lee’s cursing.

“Chip, what’s the matter with you? Wake up!” Chip didn’t respond. The most Lee could do was kick out at Chip with his right leg. He made minimal contact with Chip’s left. Chip seemed to stir, but barely. Lee kept shouting at Chip even as he began a series of steps he dreaded. Using his left hand, Lee unstrapped his restraints. He awkwardly reached across his body for the autopilot controls and stabilized the ship in a holding pattern.

“Chip, talk to me, please!”

Nothing.

“You better not be faking, buddy,” Lee railed as he reached back to the left side of his seat, took a couple of drags of air from the regulator, and then dropped it to pull the hacksaw free. The duct tape came with the hacksaw, sticking to the outside of Lee’s left hand and wrist. The tape twisted and pulled on Lee’s hairs as he struggled to slip the hacksaw into position between the console and his attached hand. “Better make this quick,” he encouraged himself.

Lee sawed confidently through the top of the duct tape knowing he wouldn’t hit the shank of the hook for a bit. He didn’t think that part would hurt, but then he hadn’t anticipated how badly instinct would make him try to pull the hand off the shank as he began to saw. He fought hard not to move the hand.

“Last chance to make me not do this, Chip!” No reply from Chip meant that Lee had to initiate sawing the hook shank. Fast or slow, he debated, knowing fast would hurt more but thinking it would be over quicker leaving less time to fall prey to pulling the hand off the hook. After a timid start, he went for fast. More choice words were hollered. The jerking from the sawing hurt badly enough, but the snapping off of the shank caused it to shift some, sending a flame of pain radiating. Lee cursed loudly again.

Free, finally. Unfortunately, the impaled hand didn’t feel better for having been liberated. If anything, it hurt worse from all the movement. Lee briefly looked at the front of the wound. The bit of gauze Chip had wedged in the front of the hand had fallen to the floor. Not much blood had been absorbed on it. Now, a fresh patch of blood oozed over a semi-congealed one around the shank. “No time,” Lee huffed aloud. He pulled the gauze off the floor, placed it over the shank which barely protruded from the wound, and pushed the remnants of the sliced duct tape around the front of his hand hoping to keep the gauze in place. Out of breath, Lee took several more swigs of air from the regulator.

“Chip!” Lee called again.

Receiving no answer, Lee slapped the regulator back in his mouth, arose and moved over to Chip. He shook Chip’s shoulder as he looked at his face. He looked a bit bluish.

“Damn,” Lee said after he pulled the regulator from his own mouth and awkwardly replaced Chip’s with his. Lee stepped to the back of Chip’s chair. The regulator tube had pulled nearly completely away from the tank. Lee pushed it back on. He stepped back around to check on Chip. His color had improve dramatically. Lee slipped Chip’s repaired regulator over his own mouth and nose, took a deep breath, then took it off and tried to rouse Chip.

“Come on, buddy. I can’t finish this on my own. I need you.” Moments passed without a reaction. “Chip, I’m serious here. Come on. Wake up. We have miles to go before we sleep.”

“Whaaa, what’s with the poetry?” Chip slurred as he spit out the regulator.

Lee sighed in relief. Then he realized he wasn’t taking in air himself. He popped the regulator back in and took another deep breath. “Your regulator tube fell off and you nearly asphyxiated.”

“Oh. Lee, you’re free. You didn’t pull it out, did you?”

“It’s still bloody in there.”

“Speaking of there, where are we?”

“Near the boat. Get yourself together because docking isn’t going to be easy.”

“Right. How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Looking forward to seeing Will for a change?”

“Get me there and we’ll discuss it further.”

“Right, miles to go before we sleep.”

“One of us did.”

“Sorry that I almost died and deprived you of a good rest.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know. Do we have Seaview’s coordinates yet?”

“No. I’ve been kind of distracted. Would you call in?”

“My pleasure.” Chip leaned forward for the mike. “Maybe it would be smart for us to switch regulators back before you sit down,” Chip said as he watched Lee move back to his chair, struggling to maneuver the regulator behind his chair left-handed.

“Good idea.” Lee handed over the regulator to Chip, who handed the other back once Lee was seated. “I have discovered that I’m not quite entirely competent left-handed.

“Is this where I make a joke about when you ever are ‘entirely competent?’”

“Skip it and call Seaview. The sooner we get aboard, the better for everyone.”

Chapter 8

“FS1 to Seaview, come in.”

“This is Seaview.”

“Sparks, it’s Mr. Morton. We’re close. Can you give us Seaview’s coordinates?”

“Yes, sir.”

Chip noticed an abundance of enthusiasm in Sparks’ response. Things must be dicey, he thought. Chip punched the numbers into FS1’s computer as Sparks reeled them off. “We’ll be there in just a few minutes. Hang on.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll continue to do that. Mr. O’Brien will be along in a moment if you will stand by.”

“Meanwhile, how about if you use those straps to secure yourself, Lee?” Chip said as he took a breath from the regulator.

“O’Brien here.”

“What’s your status?”

“It’s been rocky. I have some personnel standing by for repairs when you get here with the parts, but we’ll need Mr. Morton’s help.”

“Who’s down?”

“Just about everyone is banged up. Engineering is amongst the worst of it. Patterson wrenched his knee. Bannon broke his arm. Plenty of folks might be able to do it looking at a manual if they could hold on to it, but to do it fast, there are few able bodied candidates left.”

“How’s the admiral?”

“Incommunicado.”

“He doesn’t like being wrong. Are you certain he’s not hurt?”

“Green around the gills like the rest of us, yes, but otherwise fine to my knowledge.”

“All right. We’re going to try to dock in about five minutes.”

“It won’t be easy in these swells.”

“I know. Any chance of going to periscope depth?”

“Between the swells and the rains, the snorkel mast won’t stay open long enough for air exchange. There is another option, sir.”

“Let’s try this first,” Lee interrupted as Chip was busy taking a breath of air through the regulator.

“Yes, sir. Also, I did promise to alert the admiral when you arrived in the control room.”

“So noted.”

“Pressure’s on, Chip.”

“Just because the entire crew is depending upon us?”

“Same old.”

“And we have no room for error.”

“You have no room for error. I’m just an observer on this one.”

“You’ve got a perfectly fine left hand on the joystick. Feel free to use it.”

“I’ll just end up throwing her off to the side. It’s all on you buddy. I know it will be dicey. It may not even be possible. Back off if you have any doubt.”

“Afraid I might dent her?”

“I’m more concerned about denting Seaview.”

“I hear you. Ready for water entry?”

“Not like I have a choice, yes.”

“Entry in five seconds.” Both slipped their regulators back on as Lee counted down with his left hand fingers.

FS1 hit the water hard. Chip had positioned her perpendicular to the swells to reduce the impact of the forty foot peaks, but when the little craft hit, she bounced up and came nearly vertical before crashing back down. Chip pushed the joysticks hard forward to nose FS1 under the waves.

When they were twenty-five feet below the surface, the turbulence diminished. Lee and Chip headed in the direction of the Seaview. She was moving slowly, too slowly to escape the monsoon waters anytime soon. They trailed beneath her for several minutes, watching her cross through the giant waves, her bow cresting and then smashing violently.

“O’Brien must be at his wit’s end with these swells, but he’s doing a fine job of minimizing the yawing all things considered,” Lee said.

Chip looked at Lee, then shook his head. “I don’t think we can do it, Lee. If we damage the hull plates going in, she’s worse off than if we get aboard and fix her. On the best of days, the opening is barely big enough for her.”

“I seem to recall mentioning that to the admiral during the design process.”

“Let me guess, he just had to squeeze something else inside her?”

“Brilliant, but not always practical, the admiral.”

“He does tend to come at things from the optimistic viewpoint, whereas you, my friend, are always planning for what might go wrong.”

“Case in point,” Lee gestured. They continued to trail along, inhaling deep breaths from their regulators. The were ascertaining if there was a rhythm in the waves that would allow them to time an attempted entry, when the bow was down perhaps and the stern up.

“I don’t think I can do it, Lee. I wish it were you.”

“As if I don’t hold the record for crashing her?”

“Only because you’ve flown her more than anyone else. She’s not exactly a dream to maneuver.”

“If we can take her in mostly vertical, we’ll leave more room. Take her dead slow and once we’re in, ease her horizontal. The magnetic cradle should make that easier. Let’s give it one try.”


 “Do you mind if I try it parallel to her first? I want to get a feel for how she will react closer to those swells.”

“I hate to lose the time, but yes, I think it’s a good plan.”

“How much of an angle do you think I should shoot for?”

“Thirty-five to forty percent.”

“Here goes nothing,” Chip nodded before he returned the regulator to his mouth. Chip nosed the small ship up to a thirty-seven degree angle, bringing her up to the depth of Seaview’s bottom hull where FS1’s dock resided. Seaview loomed about 100 feet away from them, off to FS1’s right. Seaview’s bow crested and then descended violently.

“Better ease her down a bit,” Lee said.

Chip nodded in acknowledgement, but the ship was continuing upward in angle, not responding. A moment later, FS1 caught the full force of the wave that Seaview had just met. Chip pressed both joysticks forward with all his energy, but the power of the surge caught FS1’s bottom hull and would not let her down. A second later, FS1 was upside down.

“So much for that test drive,” Lee said as he hung upside down. Lee flailed with his left arm to retrieve the regulator dangling below his head and inhaled a deep breath as he awaited Chip’s response. None came. “Chip! Chip! What’s wrong?”

Lee -- breaking through an increasing haze of dizziness, pain and exhaustion -- struggled to turn his head toward Chip. He saw the top of one of the air tanks strapped to Chip’s chair pushing against the base of Chip’s skull. Lee then noticed that as he turned, he could feel the top edge of a tank just behind his head. Damn!

Chapter 9

Lee had to get the ship righted before the tanks pulled free any further, digging deeper into Chip’s skull or catching his own. So much for aviation grade duct tape. He also had to be certain that any maneuvering caused the tanks to move away from their skulls. It shouldn’t be that hard, Lee thought, but he was both distracted -- his injured hand hanging over his head increased the swelling and pain -- and disoriented from being upside down. Under the circumstances, righting her without further injury to one or both of them seemed daunting beyond possibility.

Lee closed his eyes for several seconds to concentrate, blocking out his own pain and his concern for Chip. Okay, old boy, here goes nothing, Lee thought, as he decided upon his course of action. He dreaded it. He had had no choice but to use the injured hand.

Lee reached his left arm upwards. He grasped the side of his chair, feeling around for the other piece of duct tape that had held the hacksaw. He found it and pulled it off in a fast, jerking motion. He then allowed his left hand to fall a few inches and crossed it to the right joystick. Awkwardly, he slapped the duct tape on the outside of the joystick, then fumbled to press the top button down firmly before he finally secured the tape on the inside edge of the joystick.

“Just hold on for one minute,” Lee spat out his regulator and begged of the tape. “Now for the really fun part,” Lee announced, hoping Chip would respond. He was relieved to hear a low moan and to see his friend’s chest rising. “If you can hear me, Chip, keep your head as far forward as you can and we’ll have that tank off you shortly.”

Lee returned the regulator to his mouth and inhaled deeply before continuing. He brought his right hand up to the joy stick. It was going to hurt to use, but Lee needed the still functional fingers to grip the stick to make this work. He reached forward with his left hand, pulling against gravity to the edge of his reach and punched a button on the panel. He needed a quick boost of power from behind to do this swiftly. Immediately after, Lee brought his left hand to the left joystick, depressed the button and, using both hands, pulled both sticks as far back as possible so as to flip her by rising which would keep the tanks backed off their skulls. Lee counted to five, both as a distraction and a reminder, then eased off the sticks feathering them out to neutral before FS1 finished flipping. Then, before they were caught in another wave and flipped again, Lee hurriedly, but gently, pushed the sticks forward to ease her down another twenty five feet.

Lee hit autopilot to stabilize FS1 in place and then finally allowed his throbbing right hand drop off the stick. For a few moments, he felt perilously close to blacking out. Seconds later, the feeling passed and Lee spat his regulator out.

“Chip, talk to me, buddy.”

“Argggh.”

“Can you give me a bit more than that or do I have to get out of my chair?”

Chip’s drooled out his regulator. “Head hurts.”

“I expect so.”

“What happened?”

“You flipped her. Oxygen tank clipped your skull.”

“Still upside down?”

“No.”

“Feels it.”

“Seaview to FS1, come in.”

Lee looked toward Chip. Chip’s eyes widened upon recognizing the admiral’s voice.

“FS1 here.”

“Do not attempt to dock. It would be idiotic.”

“Yes, sir, we came to that conclusion a moment or two ago,” Lee half laughed.

“We’re going to dive to 100 feet. Dock her as fast as you can, then get those parts up top. We’ve cut oxygen use to emergency zones only and are minimizing extraneous activity. We should be able to keep her below for about twenty minutes without resorting to reserve oxygen. Crews have already pulled the bad relays and disconnected the inoperable pump, so you and Chip should be able to switch out the new parts quickly.”

“Negative, admiral. Chip’s hurt, possible concussion. Patterson or Sharkey should be able to handle it.”

“Then it will have to be you and me. They are both are down with injuries.”

“Admiral, I must insist that you stay off that leg.”

“Doc?”

“Yes, captain.”

“Give me that microphone back, Doctor. That’s an order.”

“Overruled, admiral.”

“What’s the matter with him, Doc?”

“Wrenched his knee and won’t stay off it. It’s swollen like a cantaloupe.”

“There are more important things right now, Doc.”

“Which Mr. O’Brien can handle, isn’t that right, Mr. O’Brien?”

“Yes, Doc.”

“Doctor, can we talk privately?”

“Hang on everyone!” O’Brien shouted in the background.

“Take her down now, O’Brien,” Admiral Nelson added.

Several moments later, Sparks’ voice responded. “Doc is on his way to a private line, sir. It’ll be just a few more seconds.”

“Sounds like they’re having a grand old time up there,” Lee said, shaking his increasingly hurting hand.

“Mrffff too,” Chip slurred with his regulator still in place.

“Captain, it’s Jamie.”

“What’s the situation up there?”

“Several broken bones, lots of sprains, torn muscles. Virtually anyone not strapped in has bruises at the least, and many have worse.”

“Amongst Patterson, the chief and the admiral, who is in the best shape to assist me?”

“You? What about your hand?”

“I still have two and our options are limited. I could use someone whose hands are in better shape than mine to assist.”

“I don’t like it, Lee.”

“Doc, we have a limited window before any work will have to be done at the surface. I need someone with excellent familiarity with the systems involved if we hope to do this before we need to go back up. Pick one of them and if you have to personally assist them to air revitalization, do it. I’ll be there shortly. Give me a minute with the admiral, please.” Lee, running out of breath, took a quick drag of oxygen.

“Nelson here.”

“Anything else I need to know, sir?”

“Other than that I’m a driven, single-minded, bonehead at times?”

“The same’s been said of me, you know. Why so many relay failures at the same time, including on FS1?”

“Sabotage, Lee. When we overhauled the air revitalization systems last year, we replaced all the relays because of their age. Little did we know. Lee, I had received warnings. I didn’t know what they meant until hours ago.”

“What do you mean?”

“Over the last month, I received a series of cryptic, unsigned notes all saying the same thing: ‘Beware the Ides of March.’ That would be around now.”

“But how could all the relays fail now?”

“Some failed earlier, thanks to bad quality, but these had a built in defect: each was embedded with a small drop of hydrochloric acid designed for time release. Mass failure would ensure an insufficient replacement supply would be on hand and would also damage connected circuits.”

“Who? Why?”

“It was our last shipment from Sudbury Industries before we put the contracts out for rebidding.”

“Because of our concern that they were outsourcing?”

“To Hong Kong. We were right. You were right. I should have acted sooner and cancelled the contract. This has the hand of the People’s Republic all over it.”

“Is there something more?”

“On microscopic inspection, I observed each relay was stamped ‘ha ha’.”

“Subtle.”

“I’m just grateful that those parts were limited in use to air revitalization and we delayed standardizing until the next refit.”

“Damned enough, I suppose.”

“We’ll get it fixed soon, Lee. It just means a lot of rewiring. There’s plenty on hand for the job.”

Lee resisted chuckling. On hand. His hand. What a mess. He was getting goofy and needed another breath of oxygen.

“Are you up to it, Lee?”

“With help, yes.”

“I can override Jamie.”

“I heard that admiral. Forget it.”

“I’ll be fine, admiral.”

“I have my doubts about that too,” Jamie complained.

“Crane out,” Lee cut and run. He didn’t like to be that abrupt with Jamie, but indulging the doctor’s cautious nature then could lead to more injuries later. Moreover, Lee wanted to get the job done with while he still felt capable of helping.

Chapter 10

Lee watched the Seaview ahead and above FS1. Her stern caught an unpleasant bump from a giant wave, similar to the one that had flipped FS1. Lee imagined the jolt felt aboard. Meanwhile, his head pounded in a rhythmic counterpoint to the throbbing in his hand. He wondered if he had enough energy left in his tank to finish the tasks ahead.

Lee had hoped his part would end when they boarded Seaview. The doctor could anesthetize him, remove the damn hook shank, and let him sleep. Just the thought of sleep made him nearly succumb. No, he didn’t dare. He blinked his eyes several times, then pinched his left cheek. He felt like he was losing the battle until a loud ping gave him focus. Lee almost chuckled when he saw the source: the low fuel light. He and FS1 shared that problem.

Docking time arrived. With fuel near empty, Lee wanted to get it right the first time. Get her in position, hold her steady, and blow ballast. Once barely inside the bay, the magnetized cradle would assist FS1 into the dock and hold her steady. It looked easy when done correctly, but thanks to FS1’s size relative to the bay, it always was precarious.

Steady and slow. The right hand balked, but Lee didn’t have to ask too much of it for this maneuver. Seaview was infinitely more stable 100 feet below the surface; so was FS1. Seaview came to a nearly full stop; Lee matched it. He could do it. The bay opened and the lights from inside guided him. Yet everything seemed dimmer than it should be at this depth. Hang on Lee, he encouraged himself. Still, he faded. His air tank must have hit bottom too.

“Ree! Ree!”

“Huh?” Lee heard something like his name and snapped to attention. He spit out the regulator, convinced that there was little air left to pull. “Chip?”

“Ree. Head hurts. Home.”

“Soon, buddy. Very soon,” Lee rebounded. Lee eased her up, slowly up, tedious second after second, not so long in real time, but long in experienced time. Clunk. A little hard, perhaps, but the jarring motion helped jolt Lee more awake. “We’re home, Chip.”

Lee wasn’t sure things really were all that much improved for them, but positive thoughts had kept him going until now. The bay beneath closed. Another minute gone. Lee was feeling close to passing out. One minute more until the water was pumped clear. Why was it that it seemed so much slower when time was critical? At last, the hatch opened from above.

Stu Riley descended the rungs, followed by the doctor and another crewman, Jacobs. Jacobs immediately put a rebreather in Lee’s mouth. After half a minute, Lee felt much better and pulled it out.

“The supplies are in the aft locker, Riley. Take them directly to air revitalization. I’ll be right behind you.”

Dr. Will Jamison glared at Lee, his mouth half-opened to argue. He was cut off by Lee speaking first.

“Take care of Chip, Jamie. I promise to come see you when I can.” Lee headed toward the ladder as he spoke, then suddenly turned around. He hastily grabbed the roll of duct tape still hanging off his chair. He hung it off the end of his wrapped right hand.

Will -- despite it violating all his instincts -- nodded in confirmation. Chip’s head wound did take priority over an ambulatory Lee.

Lee took the ladder slowly -- the best he could do with one hand. After that, he sprinted through the control room to the stairs, heading down and aft for air revitalization. He couldn’t afford to get distracted on the way.

Lee hopped through the open hatch and stopped dead in his tracks. Sharkey and Cookie stood inside.

“Cookie?”

“Ain’t no one eating anything anytime soon in this bouncing tub. Admiral figures if I can truss a bird, I can wire pretty much anything. Sharkey and me already replaced the lead wires and were just waitin’ on you for the relays.”

Lee looked down at his useless right hand. “All right then. Riley and Jacobs should be here in moments with them and the pump. Anything else break since last I heard?”

“Nah,” Sharkey reported. “We had a compressor scare, but it was just a loose wire from all the turbulence. It’s already fixed, skipper.”

“Good. You and I should be able to get that pump done in about ten minutes. After, you can get those relays seated properly and she should be good to test.”

“Skipper, maybe it’d be best if I had Riley help with the pump and you supervise.”

“You’re making me feel like a glorified delivery boy, chief.”

“More like a glorious one, sir. You can’t imagine how happy we all are to see you. This ride will be one no one forgets for a long time, but the sooner we put it behind us, the happier we’ll all be.”

Lee moved away from the door, making room for Riley and Jacobs. Lee hovered over Sharkey and Riley as they seated the pump in place. Sharkey fastened in the hardware as quickly as he could before he undertook the rewiring. Lee guided Sharkey through it, making sure each connection was securely tight. Lee looked at his watch.

“Much as I’d like to test her on a smooth ride, I don’t want to use reserve oxygen in case we find more trouble. That means we have seven minutes to finish as much of this as we can, gentlemen. She’ll need a good fifteen minutes after that to effectively get good air pumping through the boat.”

* * * *

Even as Dr. Jamison began his exam of Chip, he worried about the captain and his wound. Maybe though, with just a little luck, everything would return to normal in a few minutes. Except that when “normalcy” returned, sick bay would be overrun by crewmen and officers who’d persevered through dings and twists during the last several hours. Will could only pray that none of these injuries would be severe. Lee Crane might not care about his hand in the middle of a crisis, but he couldn’t afford to wait much longer for medical attention without risking permanent damage. Necrosis may have already begun. Chip’s wound was much more recent.

“How many fingers am I holding up, Mr. Morton?”

“Where?”

“Try opening your eyes.”

“Oh. Surrrrrrre,” Chip slurred.

“How many?”

“Six, no seven.”

“Can you see my face?’

“Both of ‘em.”

“If I give you a hand, do you think you can get up the ladder?”

“Depends. Where are we going?”

“Sick bay.”

“Yuck.”

“Let’s try anyway.” Will undid Chip’s restraints and helped him up.

“Which ladder?”

“This one,” Will said as he placed Chip’s right hand on the ladder.

“‘Kay. Got it now.”

“We’ll give him a hand from up here, Doc,” O’Brien added. “Seven minutes until we resurface.”

* * *

Lee Crane felt a little useless and very proud of his men at the same time. They could do this work without him hovering. He even pondered going to sick bay, but he couldn’t until he knew the system was working. Besides, Doc was busy with Chip. No, Lee would stay put.

To keep busy, Lee dug through the electrician’s box with his left hand until he found a simple A/B switch. He was so weary that he had to do something or risk passing out. Setting A would let the system run manually -- as it had been doing before the pump blew -- meaning no finely balanced air mixture or thermostatic control, but at least they could run smoothly submerged while other repairs continued. Setting B would return control to the computer when all the relays and wires in that system were finally repaired.

It was a small contribution to make, but with Patterson and so many others best qualified to repair the system down with injuries, it would save a few minutes reading schematics and fishing for wires for whomever did the repairs. Let them focus on the rotted relays -- not so hard to find -- and the attached wiring. Except with a useless right hand, Lee was just fumbling. He dropped the switch twice while balancing it in the crook of his right arm trying to loosen the screws at the connectors.

“You need a hand, skipper?” Riley offered as Sharkey double and triple-checked the replacement pump’s security and connections.

Lee nodded. “Damn.”

“I’m sure the Doc will be able to fix it, skipper.”

“Black wires to negative terminals, whites to positive. Then take it over to the chief.”

“You want to check this over, sir?” Cookie called, distracting Lee from worrying.

“Yes, tighten that connection a bit. Make sure you’ve pushed those relays all the way into the socket -- gently, if you please.”

“Control room to Captain Crane, come in please.”

Lee fumbled the radio off the wall with his left hand, dropping it then recovering it quickly before depressing the talk button. “Crane here.”

“We either need to take her back up now or go on reserve oxygen, skipper. It’s getting close in here.”

“Take her up, Mr. O’Brien. With any luck, we can bring her back down in fifteen to twenty minutes.”

“Aye aye, sir. All hands, prepare to surface.”

“Riley, Jacobs, secure everything loose on the double. We don’t need anything banging into the equipment now.” Lee saw that the chief was still wiring the temporary switch. He tossed the roll of duct tape to the chief. “Tape the switch on the pump like you want it to outlast you, chief.”

“Aye aye, skipper.”

Lee’s eyes ran along lowered panel doors to the circuitry. “Secure the first panel, Cookie.” Lee prepared to order Cookie to close the remaining two open panels when his eye caught something amiss in the third panel. “Damn.”

“Did I do somethin’ wrong, sir?”

“No, Cookie. I think that by the time we get home, we’re going to find lots of loose hardware from this trip. Give me a screwdriver.”

“I can do it, sir.”

“It’d take me longer to show you and my fingers will fit better. Close up the middle panel.” Lee was inside the third panel working on the problem as he spoke.

“Turbulence expected in ten seconds. Brace yourselves.”

Lee counted as he tightened. He didn’t dare have a screwdriver in the panel when turbulence hit or he’d do more damage than he’d fixed. On two, he pulled it out. “Flip the A switch, chief,” he yelled. Lee jammed the screwdriver in his hip pocket, and was raising the cover panel twisting the latch as O’Brien’s voice announced “Impact.”

The panel cover smacked partway down, the corner digging into Lee’s head just as he was flung forward into the falling sheet metal by the wave’s impact. Lee’s hands instinctively reached forward for a handhold. His left hand clutched at air, while his right hand only found a flat surface. Momentum carried him forward. The shank hit the panel. Lee groaned. Seaview’s stern crashed back down and she rolled a little to port. Lee crashed to the floor with her, rolling and smacking his head into the bulkhead.

Chapter 11

Shadows swirled before Lee’s eyes. First he felt dizziness, then a fading sensation as if he was falling away.

“Lee, wake up. Lee, come on.”

Lee’s eyes blinked open once, and then again. The light was unpleasant. He clamped his lids shut to keep it out. The voice persisted. It was a woman’s voice. Lee couldn’t make sense of it.

“Admiral?”

No answer.

“Chip?”

No answer.

“Doc, is that you?” Of course, it had to be. Did Lee’s head ever hurt! He must have smacked it good.

“They promised me they wouldn’t let you drink too much, damn it!”

“Huh?” Lee thought he felt soft hands on his head.

“You’ve got a giant goose egg on your forehead.”

He felt a hand lightly touch the spot. That could easily account for his confusion.

“Well, you’ve got three hours to get yourself together.”

Lee was bewildered. “Three hours? For what?”

“Lee Crane, we are getting married then. I’m going to have Chip’s hide for this.”

Lee prised one eye open. “Darlene?”

“Were you expecting someone else? Maybe a stripper from last night?”

“I’m . . . confused.” Lee rose up to a sit. It dizzied him. He fell back, closing his eyes. His head seemed to swirl, his brain enveloped by a fuzziness that wouldn’t leave. He again forced an eye open. He saw Darlene. He was in her house in New Orleans.

“Lee, dear, it’s okay. I understand. Seeing them all again, well, I can understand it was hard for you.”

“I . . . can’t remember.”

“Can’t remember what?”

“Anything. Well, Paul’s wedding. I was here then.” Lee looked toward Darlene. His eye caught sight of something on a dresser behind her, a prosthesis of a hand. Puzzled, Lee pulled both his hands out from beneath the blanket and stared. He gasped. His right hand was gone; only a stump remained. “How?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“You really don’t remember?”

“No. I mean, I remember hurting the hand on the way to help Seaview with a problem, but not much more.”

“It was after Paul’s wedding. You and Chip left early, some sort of problem with the boat.”

“I remember that. I impaled my hand on the way. It hurt, but it wasn’t that bad. It couldn’t have been.”

“There was nerve damage because of the delay in treatment. If you had diverted to Pearl, they could have saved it. Instead, you went back to the boat. The injury was aggravated while you were doing repairs. The doctor stabilized the injury, but he couldn’t do more, and it was nearly two days before they could get you to a hospital for the microsurgery you needed. You struggled with infections for weeks afterward. Is this starting to ring a bell, darling?”

Lee could only stare openmouthed at his stump while shaking his head in denial.

“In the end, the doctors could only save part of the hand, your last three fingers. You went back to work while a prosthesis was being created for you, but there was an accident and you hurt it again helping. Infection set in. They had to amputate or you risked dying. Oh, Lee, how can you have forgotten?”

The throbbing in Lee’s head worsened as Darlene kept talking. Instinctively, Lee brought his hand up to his head to feel the knot, but there was no hand, only a stump.

“How did I end up here?”

“Oh, that’s flattering on our wedding day!”

“I’m sorry, Darlene. I don’t mean to be a dolt. It’s just not making sense to me. I’m sure if I remembered it would.”

“You came to visit Paul. Daddy offered you a job and you accepted. We connected. Oh, how can you not remember this when we’re to be married in a few hours?”

Lee wondered that himself. He stared at the prothesis on the dresser trying desperately to remember. Seaview. He remembered her rolling. He reached out to grab something to steady himself with his right hand. There was pain, followed by falling and more pain, then nothing. Lee’s breath began to shorten.

“Lee, calm down. I’m going to call the doctor. Just stay put.”

* * * * *

“Lee, it’s Jamie. Can you see me?”

Lee was mired in a haze of darkness and confusion.

“Can you hear me, Lee?”

“Doc?”

“Yes. Sssh. Don’t try to get up!” Jamie held him down. “You have a concussion.”

“Feels like it.”

“Anything else hurt?”

“Can’t think.”

“I’ll check you over. If anything comes to mind, let me know.”

Lee was about to mention his hand. It was gone, though. He’d heard of phantom pain from amputation. He didn’t know it could hurt that much, but then, he’d not had personal experience with it before. “Darlene?”

“What, captain?”

“Darlene. Supposed to get married soon.”

“Uh, sure, captain. Frank, get a stretcher down here.”

“Frank? I’m confused.”

“Yes, captain. That’s typical. You have a concussion. Just stay quiet and still for now, please.”

“Hand, Jamie. Hurts a lot. Don’t understand.”

“Just try to stay still, captain, okay. I’ll check you over. Look left toward Frank.”

The doctor gently pushed Lee’s head to the left; Lee didn’t resist. Moments later Lee felt a wash of relief in his right hand, or the stump or something near there. He wanted to look, but his head hurt so much, he felt as if any ray of light would sear his brain. Frank? Why would Frank be there? His head was whirling. Was it a flashback? Was he even conscious? He felt himself sinking into blackness.

“Fight it, Lee. Stay with me.”

Jamie. It was Jamie’s voice. Lee tried to stay awake and follow his voice. He kept asking if this or that hurt. Every third word made sense, sort of. Lee strove to follow his voice, to stay awake for the sound of it. He didn’t worry about answering Jamie’s questions. Years of Lee never admitting anything hurt very much led to Jamie using his own judgment on that front anyway. Besides, something else was swelling in Lee’s throat. Shit. Although Lee’s head was already turned, his body was straight. Lee torqued to the left.

“Turn him!” a voice barked. Gentle hands rolled Lee as he heaved. Not much came up, but the spasm continued through dry heaves. Lee curled inward reflexively. Bed. Hadn’t he been in a bed? The rigid surface below him felt like a floor. Had he fallen onto the floor and not remembered? When he caught his breath, he would ask. No. Just open your eyes, Lee Crane. He wondered what he so feared. Darlene’s recitation of his past few months was scary enough. What could be worse? Lee prised an eye open. A bulkhead. How could that be?

“Seaview?” he croaked.

“She’s fine, Lee. You got the air system working again and Seaview’s running submerged. We are all the better for it, except for you. Now let’s get you to sick bay and see what we can do.”

“My hand, I still have it?”

“Complete with a spike still sticking out of it, yes. That must have been a helluva knock you took on the noggin.”

“You don’t know the half of it. How does it look?”

“It’s too early for me to say.”

“No idea?”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“‘That’s good, I s’pose. Tired. So very tired.”

“I imagine so, captain. You just rest quietly. It’s our turn to take care of you.”

“Boat’s really okay?”

“Yes.”

“Crew?”

“Lots of fender benders, but no one’s critical.”

“Chip? Head wound?”

“Nothing to worry about. His head is hard as tack. You’ll be sharing quarters with him soon.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Lee whispered as he started to black out again. This time, no urging could stop it.

Chapter 12

“How long has he been out?” Chip asked.

Lee roused at the sound of his XO and friend’s voice.

“About ten minutes,” Will Jamison answered.

“Would you guys mind quitting all the shouting?” Lee moaned.

“Don’t blame me if your head hurts, Lee. Now, how about trying to open those eyes for me.”

“Too tired. Just want to sleep.”

“Contraindicated with a concussion, Lee. You’ve had enough, you should know,” Chip chided.

“He should also know not to drink so much or to take a swing at a man that large after drinking that much,” Will Jamison added.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Lee’s eyes opened. “Chip, why the hell are you in dress whites?” Lee turned his head slightly. “Oh, shit. That was real? Darlene’s house?”

“Chip Morton, I want you out of here, now.” Darlene’s voice pierced Lee’s ears. “I thought you were a better friend than this. How could you have let this happen?”

“Both of you, leave now, please. Let me examine my patient in peace.”

Lee’s eyes tracked Darlene as she physically pushed Chip toward the door.

“Doc, what happened? I . . . everything is all fuzzy. I was here, then I was aboard Seaview, but I hit my head again, then I expected to wake up in sick bay, but I was here again.”

Lee attempted to sit up, but fell backwards into the pillow.

“Just relax, Lee. It’s been a rough patch for you these last few months. This latest concussion may be very serious on the heels of the last one. You’ve got to be very careful. Repetitive concussions can lead to serious brain trauma, confusion, dementia, memory impairment.”

“We’re in New Orleans now, right?”

“Yes.”

“For my wedding to Darlene?”

“Yes. Many of your friends are here. The admiral will be here shortly.”

“Which means my hand really is gone?” Lee imagined he could feel his fingers move, but as he moved his right arm against his body, he didn’t feel digits.

“I’m afraid so.”

“That thing on the dresser is mine then?”

“The prothesis, yes. It’s temporary. The admiral has been working with your doctors on getting you the most advanced, functional prothesis possible. He still hoping you will come back.”

“A captain with one hand isn’t much of a captain.”

“I don’t know about that. Captain Hook certainly kept his men in line.”

“He’s fictional. So is Long John Silver and his peg leg, so don’t throw him at me either.”

“No, Lee, I won’t. I understand why you left. You could only be one type of commander.”

“If only she didn’t rock and roll so often.”

“If only.”

“Doc, I . . . I’m sure it will come back to me when my head stops throbbing, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember how I got here.”

“What’s your last memory?”

“Getting the air revitalization system on line, then surfacing. Ramming into a steel panel. Reaching out to brace myself. Pain. You. Frank. You said I’d be okay . . . but I’m . . . I’m not.”

“Head wounds are tricky, Lee. You know that. I’m sorry that I didn’t stick around the party longer last night to make certain this was treated. Chip should have called me.”

“I don’t remember anything about last night, or anything leading up to it.”

“I’d rather you’d remember on your own, Lee. I want to be able to assess your injury accurately.”

“Darlene said I lost my thumb and forefinger first and the rest of the hand later. She said I was helping after an accident, but she made it sound like I did something stupid.”

“If you call saving Sharkey’s life stupid, then I guess so. He sure feels bad about it, that much I know.”

“Can you at least tell me about that? Give me a bone here.”

“Let me finish my exam, first. Follow my light. Good. Good. Pupils look good at least. Swelling isn’t terrible considering. Any nausea?”

“A little. Mainly a whopper of a headache aggravated by not remembering.”

“You had just returned to Seaview, after the last infection was mostly gone. You were on restricted duty.”

“How restricted.”

“Paperwork.”

“I’m right handed.”

“You only had to read it and initial. You were experimenting doing it with your partial hand and trying to learn to write left-handed. You were assigned a full-time steward to help you.”

“A baby-sitter?”

“You required one to stay out of trouble. Unfortunately for you, this one wasn’t up to the job.”

“Okay, so obviously I’m an idiot who did this to myself. Just tell me how, please!”

“There was a collision.”

“The boat? Is she okay?”

“Yes, Lee, let me finish. This was months ago.”

“Sorry, I’m anxious.”

“I know. You sent the steward to the control room for an update on the boat’s status, as I’d banned you from there unless you were strapped into a chair. Meanwhile Sharkey was working to cut off a bilge leak, but the control room lost contact with him. You took it upon yourself to check on him. He’d slipped and nearly drowned in the muck. You managed to cut off the leak using a crowbar. Unfortunately for you, you also severely cut your scar tissue. The infection that followed necessitated the amputation of what was left of your hand. You haven’t been aboard Seaview since then.”

Lee stared at his stump. “I can’t change who I am.”

“A depressed man who left his dream job and his friends to take a corporate desk job and is about to marry a woman he doesn’t love?”

“That’s harsh, Will.”

“Harsh is how you’ve been, on yourself, on your friends. You just needed time to adjust, but you wouldn’t take it.”

“Thanks for the lecture, Will. It’s definitely helping my headache -- not in a good way.”

“I’m sorry, Lee. I’m just frustrated at finding you this way, no more than you are, of course, so that’s not a good excuse. I, all of us really, we wish that you could have let us be there for you, helped you, like you’ve always helped others. That’s the one thing you’ve never been good at, however, accepting help.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to make things hard on you.”

“Do you remember now?”

“No, but I believe you. That’s how I am. Was.”

“Lee Crane, man of action. There’s so much more to you. We wished you’d given staying on the boat a chance.”

“Seaview operates best with the stability of a regular captain. Clearly that wasn’t going to be me anytime soon with infection, amputation, rehabilitation. I’m sure my decisions were in the best interest of the crew.”

“These would be the decisions you have no memory about?”

“Jamie, I thought you were here to help me?”

“Sometimes helping you seems impossible.”

“Then I suppose you should go now.”

“I’ve never let it stop me from trying. Let’s see if you can sit up a little.” Dr. Jamison offered Lee some support from behind and propped a pillow behind him. “How does that feel?”

“Great.”

“I’m not the enemy.”

“I never thought you were.”

“Through the years, it sometimes felt that way. Maybe if you’d have followed my advice a little more . . .”

“I might not be in this pickle after all?”

“No, I didn’t mean that. I just meant you never put yourself first even when you were hurting. You should have.”

“Overdeveloped sense of responsibility.”

“Which is why I’m about to help you, whether you like it or not.”

“Meaning what?”

“I’m pronouncing you medically unfit to go forward with this wedding today. I’m taking you to the hospital for tests.”

“I don’t know what the right thing to do is, Doc.”

“I’ll brook no argument, Lee. If only I’d put my foot down sooner, everything might have turned out better for you.”

“Jamie, I may not remember now, but I’m sure whatever happened was my responsibility, not yours.” Lee swung his legs off the side of the bed as Jamie helped him up.

“Slowly, Lee.”

Lee Crane laughed at the doctor’s orders, which he’d never been prone to following closely. He didn’t this time either. Soon he wished he had. He threw up and then promptly passed out.

Chapter 13

Lee’s eyes were closed, but he took some comfort in hearing the beeping of hospital monitors. He was so exhausted that he didn’t bother to try to open his eyes. Sometimes you just had to yield control. He’d always had difficulty with that lesson. This time, fatigue won. Lee wasn’t even certain what he was fighting. Pain, yes, but what else. Everything seemed so confused, the effect of a pounding skull no doubt.

“Lee?”

A familiar voice called to him in his twilight haze, but he couldn’t quite break free to respond.

“Lee! Hey, buddy, talk to me.”

An old, familiar voice, full of concern. He should want to respond. He should try. “Chip?” His throat ached. He doubted if his voice could be heard.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lee lied.

“No fair. My head is pounding.”

“Huh?”

“My head hurts.”

“Why?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Right.”

“Doc,” Chip spoke loudly, “sleeping beauty has awoken.” Then softly to Lee, he whispered, “He made me promise, and honestly, you don’t look so good.”

Lee turned to wretch, a series of dry heaves. He couldn’t remember when last he’d eaten. He wasn’t even certain where he was until he felt himself on the edge of something, cold metal tubing abutting him. Hospital bed, he thought, Doc was taking me to the hospital. He tried to persuade himself to open his eyes, but some part of him was too tired and another part was too afraid to see the truth of how his life had changed.

“How are you feeling, captain?”

“Been better.”

“Quite the concession. How about opening your eyes for me?”

Lee rolled his head back upward. “Trying.”

“Try harder.”

“Hurts too much. Stuck.”

Dr. Jamison placed warm moist compresses over Lee’s eyes for a few moments, wiped off Lee’s eyes and waited a few seconds. Nothing happened, although he knew Lee was conscious. Doc used his left thumb and forefinger to pry open Lee’s right lid as he shone his penlight in Lee’s eye.

“Ow.”

Doc ignored Lee’s minor complaint and checked the other eye in the same fashion.

“Ooh.” Lee sealed the eye tightly after Doc removed the light.

Lee heard the sound of a phone being picked up and dialed. “Admiral, you asked me to update you on the captain’s condition. (pause) Yes, do that. (pause) Okay.”

“Not captain anymore,” Lee stated softly. He tried to raise his arm as if to explain, but found the movement restricted.

“Doc, he’s spouting nonsense again,” Chip said.

Dr. Will Jamison hovered over Lee Crane. “Captain, I really need for you to try to open your eyes and stay with me, please.”

Lee managed to pry open his right eye toward the ceiling. A moment later, Doc Jamison’s face came into focus. “Hi, Jamie.”

“Good to have you back, captain.”

“If only,” Lee said.

“You took a hard rap to that head, sir, and you weren’t in great shape before then.”

Lee attempted to thrust upright suddenly, but an arm held him back.

“Slow down, there, Lee. Everything is under control.”

“Jamie, you’re in khakis?”

“Well, we know you haven’t become colorblind!” Chip chimed.

“Not dress whites?”

“No, captain. Why would I be in dress whites?”

“Last time I saw you, you were.”

“Hey Lee,” Chip started only to be shushed by the doctor.

“What do you remember Lee?”

“All confused now.”

“Head wounds can do that to you. Just relax and I’m sure it will all come back to you. Frank, stay with him. I need to go make some arrangements.”

“Frank is here?”

“I’m here, skipper.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure I understand the question, sir.”

Lee forced his eyes open a little. “Seaview?”

“She’s fine, Lee,” Chip said, “you, not so much.”

Lee then caught sight of the back of his right hand. His hand! He gently turned the hand over.

“Careful, sir,” Frank said as he reached out to restrain Lee’s hand. “The shank is still in there.”

“I still have it. I’m still aboard Seaview.”

“Must have been a doozy of a dream you had, Lee.”

“Nightmare is more like it.”

“A cruise none of us will forget soon,” Admiral Nelson added as he trailed Dr. Jamison through the door. Nelson sported a crutch under his left arm and an ace bandage tightly wrapped from left calf to above the knee.

“We’re a fine looking command crew!” Chip joked.

“Think you can help O’Brien hold down the fort, Chip?”

“No, admiral. Mr. Morton needs to remain under observation for at least another twelve hours.”

“I’ll be okay, Doc.” Chip swung his legs off the bunk. He wobbled a bit, but managed to stand up straight in a second or two.

“I’m not paid enough to deal with the three of you at once! Frank, after we get the captain out of here, you can escort Mr. Morton to the control room. Kowalski can keep an eye on him.”

“Where am I going?” Lee asked.

“To see a hand specialist in Sydney.”

“How?”

“The Flying Sub. She’s fueled and ready.”

“The air system is down.”

“Riley and Sharkey are securing fresh air tanks as we speak.”

“More duct tape?” Lee shook his head.

“High grade aviation duct tape,” Chip chirped.

“Who’s flying?”

“Yours truly.”

“What about your knee, admiral?”

“It is not a hindrance to flying FS1.”

“If we’re using air tanks, we’ll have to go to Mach speed, admiral. You may not need to use the knee to fly, but the bouncing around will hurt like hell. Believe me, I know.”

“Doc and I agreed. If it saves our captain’s hand, then it’s a risk we can live with.”

“Doc, how serious is it?”

“Serious enough that I want to give you the best chance at recovery. You need microsurgery to make certain all the damage is properly repaired. Seaview isn’t the right place for that kind of procedure and a general surgeon isn’t your best bet either.”

“Oh.”

“I think your chances of a full recovery are good if . . . and I can’t over stress this, captain . . . if you follow doctor’s orders. I’ll be coming along to make sure you make a good head start on doing that.”

Lee thought briefly about the dreams he had. Hadn’t there been something about a two day delay in getting treatment being a mistake. Still, his typical instinct led him to want to stay on the boat, but honestly, things were stable now and his men were competent. What was his hesitation?

“Captain? Are you still with us?” Dr. Jamison asked.

“Uh, sure, Doc. Anytime you’re ready, I am.”

Will Jamison’s face snapped toward Admiral Nelson’s, surprise showing on both visages.

“Good, good, Lee,” Nelson said. Unable to suppress a wry smile, he then whispered to the doctor. “The lad must have taken a hell of a knock on the head to be so agreeable!

Chapter 14 - Epilogue

Seaview headed to Melbourne to lay in for further repairs, medical attention and R&R. Two weeks later, she returned to Santa Barbara with a crew of still weary and bruised sailors. She remained in dry dock for two weeks for still more repairs, followed by a brief shakedown cruise along the coast of California. After a few tweaks, Admiral Nelson declared Seaview fit for normal duties.

First up was a scientific mission to be conducted several hours off the coast of Hawaii. Seaview set sail without Captain Lee Crane. Despite assurances from the command crew that the captain would be returning, doubts had crept in amongst the crew. It seemed inconceivable to them that the captain had not been to the boat during dry dock to supervise repairs or appeared for their shakedown cruise.

Even Kowalski began to wonder, despite Mr. Morton’s promises to the contrary. “Wicket swears he saw the skipper’s name crossed out on the admission list at the Institute gate.”

“Kowalski, how else do you think the admiral could make sure that he didn’t come back too soon?”

“Yeah, but knowing the skipper, he’d find a way around that. Remember when he first came aboard?” Kowalski subconsciously rubbed his jaw.

“This isn’t anything like that. I assure you that the captain will rejoin us shortly. He’s been kept fully apprised of Seaview’s business.”

“You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent certain.”

“It’s just not like the skipper, you know. I mean, it’s just his hand.”

“Look, Doc laid it out clear for the captain. Without proper rest and physical therapy, he wouldn’t be able to pilot FS-1 again, among other things.”

“Oh, well, if I’d have known that. That’s his baby.”

“Glad I could satisfy your curiosity. Now get back to work, sailor.”

“Yes, sir,” Kowalski said crisply.

“That should end speculation within the hour,” Chip muttered to Bobby O’Brien.

A week later, with the mission completed, Seaview laid into Pearl Harbor. The crew was granted eight hours shore leave. When they returned, each was personally greeted with a warm handshake from Captain Lee Crane. Tanned, fit, bearing a smile ear to ear, the crew agreed to a man he’d never looked better.

Kowalski lingered longer in greeting the captain than the others. “Great to have to you back, skipper. We were gettin’ worried about you.”

“Everyone managed just fine all the same, I’m pleased to say. Turns out I’m not indispensable.”

“Maybe not, but you were missed. A lot.”

“Mr. Morton was a little tough on you all?”

Kowalski shrugged in admission.

“Everyone survived, though, right?”

“Yup, although the chief nearly bought it.”

“What happened?”

“Got his leg trapped while stemming a bilge leak and nearly drowned. Lucky for him, the new guy -- Williams -- heard him hollering like a banshee.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah. He’s still in sickbay at the tail end of a little pneumonia. Pissed as all get out at not going ashore.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Lee smiled wistfully.

“Are you all better now, captain?”

“Probably in the best shape I’ve been in since I first came aboard.”

“That’s great, sir,” Kowalski said just as he lost the captain’s attention to a knockout brunette standing behind the fence. She waved at the skipper, then when certain she’d caught his eye, blew the skipper a kiss. “Well, I can see your R&R topped mine, sir.”

“Mmm,” the captain mumbled distractedly.

Kowalski stepped aboard sporting his own broad grin.

“You look like the cat who ate the canary, Kowalski,” Mr. Morton said as Kowalski entered the hatch. “Guess you enjoyed shore leave.”

“No, sir. Well, I mean, yes, sir. I’m just happy that things are back to normal, with the skipper and all.”

“I’ll try not to take that as an insult to my captaining skills.”

“Oh, no sir, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“It’s okay, Kowalski. You just keep looking after him like you always have. It takes a village of us to keep him alive and well. That and a heap of duct tape.”

THE END