Low Tide

By R. L. Keller

(Presented for the picture contest “Somewhere.”

As often happened, Lee and Chip hit NIMR’s parking lot at roughly the same time and walked in together, chatting about how each had spent their week off. For once Lee hadn’t spent the time catching up on the mounds of paperwork that seemed to breed like rabbits on his desk any time Seaview was out. They’d returned the previous Sunday from a milk run to resupply Logan Sealab and replace a few underwater sensors nearby, spent Monday and Tuesday catching up, and then had the rest of the week to themselves after NIMR’s CMO, Dr. Will Jamison, all but threatened them with dull needles their next physicals if they didn’t ‘get lost’ for a few days. Both Lee and Chip had basically laughed in Will’s face, but non-the-less took the hint. Chip had driven up to his sister’s place north of San Francisco. Not that her household, complete with husband and two small children, was all that quiet. But Chip always came back more relaxed than when he left. Occasionally Lee would go as well, always welcome within whatever portion of the Morton clan was together. But this time he’d rented a small sailboat and spent the time leisurely and lazily puttering the coastline south of San Diego.

Normally, in port, there was something of a standard Monday morning meeting in Admiral Nelson’s office. But this time, as they passed the open area in front of their boss’ office, the domain of Nelson’s P.A., Angie, she told them that Nelson had been called out of town unexpectedly on Wednesday and as yet wasn’t back. Both Lee and Chip pointed eyebrows but Angie merely shrugged. Nelson had told her that it was personal, not business, and not to bother either CO or XO. He wasn’t sure when he would be back, but as Seaview wasn’t due to leave port again for just over two weeks there was nothing urgent that needed doing. In fact, he’d told Angie to tell them to take the next week off as well. Both Lee and Chip instantly cited half a dozen projects each that needed doing. While Angie knew for a fact that was a lie – the officers did have matters to attend to even in quiet times, but nothing that demanded instant attention – she merely waved them off. The two were nearly as serious workaholics as her boss!

But even they were pretty well caught up by Tuesday afternoon. There had been no word from the Admiral as to when he was expected back. Lee looked askance at Angie when both he and Chip stopped at her desk about 1500 hours Tuesday but she could only shrug.

Chip nudged Lee. “You want to grab scuba gear and go check out that place on San Miguel Island?” One of the Base Maintenance guys had been overheard by Sharkey talking about diving some caves on the westernmost Channel Island.

“Would take getting a permit from the Parks Service,” Lee told him, his interest obvious from his brightened expression.

“Shouldn’t be a major problem. They like NIMR,” Chip told him with a grin. It changed to a smirk. “Think ‘Dad’ would let us borrow his ‘car’?” All three knew that he was referring to FS1.

Angie snorted a bit indelicately, but Lee slowly started to grin. “Only if we tell him,” he started. “He’s not here to tell us no.” Both men looked at Angie, acknowledged head of NIMR in the Admiral’s absence.

Still seated behind her desk it was a bit hard for her to look down her nose at the two tall men standing in front of her. But she crossed her arms over her chest and managed it anyway. “If it will get you two off NIMR property for a little R&R I have no intentions of standing in your way,” came out firmly, but the last two words barely made it out before she started laughing. All three were perfectly aware that not only would Nelson, if he were here, willingly grant his two senior officers’ request while everything was quiet, he might even angle for an invitation to go along. The pair headed back to Lee’s office to put in the request to visit the protected parkland – or in this case, dive the island’s waters – hopefully the next day.

* * * *

Admiral Harriman Nelson slouched in his seat at the nearest bar he could find to Boston General Hospital, downing the first double scotch he’d ordered as fast as it was set in front of him and immediately ordering another. He’d just spent the last four days at the bedside of an old friend, Allen Maygrove, watching the man fight his final battle with cancer. The two men had served together as young ensigns, but Maygrove had left the Navy after nearly loosing a leg in a car accident while on Leave. The pair had remained friends and Nelson visited him every time he got to Boston, often staying with Allen and his wife, Eleanor. She had developed Parkinson’s and Allen had spent eight years constantly at her side, slowly watching her deteriorate until she passed away just over a year previously. Allen was barely getting his own life sorted out, now that she was gone, when he’d received his own diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. In one respect, he was grateful that he had been there for his wife. But after all of the heartaches he had actually been looking forward to getting back to the living, as it were, spending time with their two sons and enjoying a more relaxed retirement than the constant strain of his wife’s illness had allowed. Once that had been taken away he turned bitter and angry for the hand he’d been dealt.

Nelson understood – as well as anyone could who hadn’t had to deal with the trials and tribulations someone else had had to live through. He’d sat by Allen’s side and let him rant, screaming at a god who could let something like this happen, until Allen no longer had the energy or the will to continue on. He hadn’t known any words to comfort Allen and in fact realized that, in the end, Allen hadn’t wanted any. Anger was the only way he could deal with the situation so Nelson allowed him to leave in his own way.

But that feeling of helplessness now invaded Nelson and wouldn’t let go. He knew that getting drunk wasn’t the answer but right that instant he didn’t particularly care. Halfway through his third drink, however, enough common sense worked its way into his brain that he called a cab to take him back to his hotel, with a stop on the way at a liquor store. Much better – and safer – passing out in the relative safety of his hotel room than here in the bar. Maygrove’s two sons were both engineers with an oil company, working out of the country. Neither had been able to make it home in time to be with their father. That was mainly why Nelson had stayed so close the last few days. But both should be home by morning to deal with final arrangements. Nelson could afford the luxury of tomorrow’s hangover before checking to see when the funeral would be held. He knew where – he’d attended Eleanor’s.

He did give a thought, once he was back at the hotel, of calling NIMR to see how things were going. But he didn’t. He knew that Angie could handle just about everything that could come up. If she had any issues she could call either Lee or Chip; they could help her, both well-versed in NIMR day-to-day policies as well as the occasional quazi-disasters that could attempt to scramble his well-organized Institute. Right now he didn’t want to think about NIMR, and that thought suddenly brought him to a halt. NIMR was his whole life; had been for many years now. Why did he suddenly not care what was happening there? Because right this instant, he admitted, I want to think about old friends, and the parts of my life that I’ve missed because of my total focus on work, hit his brain with what he realized was some of Allen’s anger. He acknowledged that anger for what his life hadn’t been and continued to his room, firmly locking the door behind him.

* * * *

Angie landed on both Chip and Lee the next morning when they passed her desk on the way to their offices. “You two can’t even take a day off to play without showing up here?” she growled.

The pair stopped, looked at each other, then at her. “Nope,” came out simultaneously, and they both laughed.

“Just going to check for any last-minute glitches,” Lee added.

“Eesh,” she muttered, but smiled as the men chuckled and continued on. It only took about fifteen minutes before both headed out again, laughing as Angie told them firmly, “And don’t come back until tomorrow!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” came in stereo. Chip sent her a left-handed salute and both he and Lee hurried away before she could retaliate. Once they were out of sight Angie surrendered to the chuckles she’d been holding in.

The men headed for Seaview, going first to the Missile Room to gather up what diving equipment they needed – and a few things that they even thought that they might need. The only people aboard were the always-present-in-port Anchor Watch – mostly men trained as substitute crewmen but who preferred shore duty to actively serving aboard the giant submarine – as well as a couple of Security personnel. They were surprised to run into Chief Sharkey, who was supposed to be on Leave visiting friends. He quickly assured them that he was going, he’d merely been delayed a couple days by a dentist appointment he’d had to reschedule a few too many times. “And not always because Seaview got called out,” he admitted shyly, and both Lee and Chip snickered.

“Dr. Lesley is okay,” Chip told him. “You should have said something sooner. The Skipper can tell you all about him.” *

Lee frowned. “Pretty much the only thing I remember about that incident is waking up to a terrible headache and you laughing your ashcan off,” he muttered.

Thank heavens, Chip breathed out only to himself. Out loud he added, “See? Piece of cake, Chief. The headache had nothing to do with the dentist.” Both CO and COB sent him looks but he merely smiled.

However, running into Chief Sharkey meant that they didn’t have to track anyone down who knew how to release the docking clamps from the Conn once they were ready to leave aboard FS1. There wouldn’t be an issue coming back; the little machine would trigger the clamps as she slipped back into her berth under Seaview’s Nose. The COB helped them carry their gear forward, and wished them a safe trip as he released them into NIMR’s channel to the open sea.

About halfway to their destination, Lee turned to Chip. “Give, Morton.”

“Sir?” Chip reacted to the order in Lee’s voice and sat up straighter than he’d been.

“You know more about that appointment I had with Dr. Lesley than you’ve ever told me.”

“Yes, sir,” Chip admitted. “And no, sir, I respectfully refuse to answer.” That came out seriously, but he couldn’t hold in the snickers. “Trust me, please. One of Lesley’s techs messed up a bit with the meds used to deaden the tooth and you reacted to it a bit strangely. You were never in any danger,” except from extreme embarrassment, he added only to himself. “That tech was only a temp, and hasn’t worked here since. Jamie made sure of that.”

“But…” Lee’s voice now held puzzlement.

“The only reason I got involved was, Jamie asked me to drive you home. With that headache he didn’t feel you were safe to drive.”

“I don’t remember that.”

Thank heavens. “Yeah, I wouldn’t think so. You were pretty well out of it.” Understatement of the century. Chip gave Lee an easy smile. “Best that you forget the whole thing. Well,” he added with a broad smile, “all but how well your tooth felt afterward. The Admiral and I were sure glad that you quit complaining about the pain.”

Lee’s expression turned sheepish. “Yeah, that part I remember,” he admitted.

“And that’s all you need to!” Lee sent him a look at Chip’s tone of voice, but the blond’s grin spread and Lee surrendered. Chip hoped that he didn’t see the gigantic sigh of relief he released when Lee changed the topic to what they might expect to see on their dive.

* * * *

It took Nelson what he thought were a bunch of seconds, but in reality were minutes, to focus the following morning. Well, afternoon, actually, when he finally got his brain in enough working order to remember where he was, and why. “Haven’t had a bender like that,” he growled softly, “since the time Jiggs and I tried to drink each other under the table.” He tried to chuckle, but his head threatening to fall off quickly stopped that. He sat on the edge of the bed until he thought that he could make it safely to the head. Barely, as it turned out!

An hour later, after loosing what little was left in his stomach but finally able to stand long enough to take a shower, he dressed and headed for the hotel’s small café. Just the thought of food kept him from the main restaurant but he knew that he needed ‘something’ besides the strong coffee he was at the moment craving. Half a smile hit his face as he opened his door; he’d been coherent enough the night before to put out his ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign. He flipped it over so the maids could now do their jobs while he was out.

Once he’d managed several slices of dry toast, and on his fourth cup of coffee not nearly as strong as he liked it but today he wasn’t picky, he had the waitress bring him a phonebook and called the funeral home Allen had used for Eleanor. He’d guessed right and the sons had used the same one. That information in hand, he once more thought about calling NIMR. And once more didn’t. If anything serious was going on, Angie would call.

Another couple cups of coffee and he made a quick return to his room, now straightened up from his binge. He cringed at how little was left in the scotch bottle he’d bought yesterday, grabbed a jacket, and headed out for a long walk. He didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to which direction he went. This was the city of his birth and he was familiar with a great deal of it. He did have to give himself half a smile – well, actually more grimace – when he realized that he was purposely walking where he was the least likely to run into any of the myriad of people he knew who still lived there, much preferring this day the solitude. He especially stayed away from the familial neighborhood. His sister still lived in the house they’d inherited from their parents although, thankfully, she wasn’t there at the moment. He had called when he’d arrived thinking that, were she in town, he’d stay there. And he still could have; the housekeeper was quite happy to have him. But he’d chosen to stay closer to the hospital and was now glad that he had. He adored Edith’s housekeeper/personal assistant, and she was an excellent cook. But the very last thing Nelson wanted at the moment was someone fawning over him, trying to anticipate his every wish except to be left alone!

He was amazed, once he allowed the gathering darkness to sink in, how late it had gotten and how far that he’d walked; he’d been trying very hard to keep his mind uncluttered with everything that wanted to invade. Especially the emotions. He wasn’t ready yet to deal with them. He did think, perhaps, that because of Allen’s very strong ones he was a bit on overload. A soft snort escaped as he started looking around, hoping to hail a cab. And I all but harassed Lee about needing time away to figure out how to come to grips with what he’d been dealing with, he chastised himself over a still painful bunch of weeks in his young captain’s life.** He’d had the talk with Lee that he’d promised himself.*** As expected, it had embarrassed them both. But words needed to be spoken; for both of their sakes, Nelson knew. And it had been a good talk – again, for both of them.

Nelson almost wished that Lee were here right now, and then berated himself for even thinking that. The very last thing Lee needed at the moment was Nelson’s depression… That thought stopped him in his tracks. Me, depressed? he pondered. And why shouldn’t I be? I’m about to bury a dear friend! But he still allowed himself to question that admission as he found a cab to take him back to the hotel. Once inside, the smells from the Dining Room got his attention, reminding him of what he hadn’t eaten in too many hours and he headed that direction.

Over excellent clam chowder, well-cooked halibut, loaded baked potato, and a vegetable medley, he tried to assemble his suddenly jumbled thoughts into coherent ideas. He’d lost friends before. Too many, he admitted; that’s what had triggered Lee’s bit of meltdown. And I’m just now admitting how much that affected me as well? Very possibly, was that answer. He’d been so focused on Lee’s reactions that he easily glossed over his own, and now they were coming back to haunt him. A wry smile was quickly hidden by his coffee mug at that thought. And yet… He continued to linger over his meal.

* * * *

It took Lee and Chip a bit to find the spot they’d heard about; the west coast of San Miguel Island was mostly rocky. Exposure to the open ocean waters slamming the coastline made it a little difficult to find safe quarters to park FS1. They were, however, glad that they’d ‘borrowed’ their ‘Dad’s’ vehicle; the only way a boat would have worked would have been to anchor well off shore and swim in. Even as low tide approached the currents needed watching, but they were able to park the small vessel closer in and didn’t have quite so much shark-infested waters to navigate. The outer coast was known for hosting a fair number of white-tipped reef sharks, aggressive if they felt threatened in any way. And there was always the possibility of running into a great white or two. Both men experienced in the ways of the underwater world, neither was overly concerned about swimming amongst them for short periods of time.

Once Lee had found a suitable place to settle FS1 where she was relatively safe from the stronger currents yet enough off the ocean floor to allow them easy egress through her bottom hatch they changed into their wet suits, shouldered their double tanks, and headed out for several hours of what they both considered sheer pleasure.

And for the most part it was. A couple of nosy reef sharks gave them a few minutes’ pause but they both held their places, back to back so there was no chance of a sneak attack, and the sharks quickly grew bored. Swimming along the shoreline, totally enjoying the pleasure dive, they spotted an opening of some sort, and discovered what would have been a cave if it had a roof. Inside the small opening they found what turned into a larger area, open to the sky, where on one side a small waterfall flowed down to the partially sandy floor and emptied into the ocean. Several openings in the back wall of the area lead deeper into the cliffs, and Lee started to unbuckle his tanks.

“What are you doing?” Chip demanded.

“Just going to explore where those go,” Lee told him, excitement both on his face and in his voice. “It’s just coming low tide. No danger of getting stuck in here.” Chip wasn’t nearly that enthusiastic but nonetheless started to follow suit.

* * * *

Since Allen had been non-military for so many years Nelson had mostly been wearing civilian clothes, and chose them again for the funeral. The sons had chosen to not have a full service, just one at the graveside. Nelson figured that, having buried their mother not that long ago, neither wanted to go through all of it again, as well as all of Allen’s and Eleanor’s friends. There was a small reception at the house afterward which Nelson considered not attending, but did anyway out of respect for the boys. Once back at the hotel restlessness invaded and he once more headed out for a long walk.

He'd loved his visits over the years with the Maygrove’s, enjoying the couple immensely and watching the boys grow into fine young men. While he did miss Boston, he had no reservations about no longer living there. He visited often enough to keep in touch with those special friends he’d made over the years. What he did miss, when forced to admit it, was family of his own. Oh, there had been women over the years. Still were, occasionally, and a smile graced his face. But no one that he’d particularly wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Or, in at least one instance early in his career, had wanted to spend her life with him. He’d tracked her down as he’d ‘retired’ and started NIMR. She’d married a financial advisor, had a big house in New York with several children, spoiled rotten from what he could tell, and at least two maids. Nelson would have gone crazy in a place like that, and chuckled all the way back home at both their good senses not to get stuck with each other.

Lately, though, he admitted, he occasionally had a sad thought or two as he entered his big house on the hill overlooking the Institute that there was only his housekeeper, Mrs. Garcia, to welcome him home. And frequently not even her, he told himself, since he all too often worked late and didn’t get home until after she’d left, a note on the kitchen table telling him what she’d fixed for his dinner and how best to reheat it. Surrounded as he was all day with bright, hard-working people, his evenings were often lonely. He never admitted that, of course. Until now, he thought as he walked. I’ve accomplished so much professionally. But what about me? What do I have?

* * * *

Underwater lanterns in hand, Lee and Chip walked slowly into the second of the several tunnels that took off from the chamber. The first had only gone in about five yards, with nothing found of interest, so they backed out and tried the next one. It, they could quickly determine, went in much deeper and Chip once more looked skeptical. He glanced back at the chamber but the tide was no higher than when they’d first entered. He did make a quick trip back and picked up the spear gun he’d laid aside next to his tanks.

“Expecting trouble?” Lee asked, a quirky grin on his face.

“I’m with you, aren’t I,” Chip sniped back. “I always expect trouble.” But he grinned as Lee snorted, and they once more headed deeper into the tunnel.

Whatever had caused it – natural erosion the most likely cause, but it seemed strange to only make tunnels, not take the whole cliff face off – this one ran in for nearly fifty feet before it split into two.

“Old mine shafts?” Chip offered as the pair stopped and tried to shine their lights down each one.

“I was going to say that, because of the geology of the rocks, one form was easier to erode away than this harder part,” Lee told him. “But as to what could have been mined, and by who…” He shrugged.

“Doesn’t really have the look of old lava tubes,” Chip added. “Go back and try another? I’m not keen on going much deeper.” Lee sent him a grin, but they both turned and went back toward the chamber.

The chamber was no longer empty. Laying next to their tanks, and not looking at all happy to see them, was an extremely large male elephant seal. “Like I said, trouble,” Chip muttered as they eyed eighteen feet and nearly four tons of ticked off carnivorous mammal.

Lee lightly smacked his buddy’s shoulder. “Maybe he got chased in here by the sharks. There was no sign when we entered that anything was living here. And they don’t usually come ashore in places like this.”

Chip returned the slap. “Too bad it’s not a female and you could sweet talk her into moving so we could get to the tanks.” He all but giggled as Lee sent him a glare.

“I just hope that he doesn’t decide that the air hoses are edible eels,” Lee finally went back to watching the elephant seal.

“Yeah,” Chip agreed. “Let’s walk slowly toward him, you from here and me from over there,” he pointed several feet toward the back of the chamber. “Maybe we can coax him back into the water.” Lee nodded and they repositioned themselves. Lee’s spear gun was laying next to his tanks, but he spotted a length of tree limb amongst the debris the tides had carried in and held it out in front of him, Chip doing the same with his spear gun, and they slowly edged forward.

* * * *

Paying a little more attention this time, Nelson made one large circle and ended up back at the hotel about 1900 hours. Over the days between Allen’s death and the funeral he’d polished off the last of the scotch, so after a dinner of lobster, au gratin potatoes and green salad, he walked across the lobby from the restaurant and entered the bar, intending to have a nightcap – or two. His flight the next day left just before 1100 hours for LA, and the commuter flight from there to Santa Barbara would get him home shortly before 1800 hours. He’d already called Mrs. Garcia but still hadn’t called Angie, and didn’t have a logical reason why. Nor had his cell rung, what few people had that number. He’d taken Lee’s mother’s comment to heart, that her cell phone was for her convenience, not everyone else’s,**** and gave the number to very few. His sister, Edith. Angie, of course. And Lee had it, although it would have to be something extremely serious for his captain to interrupt what he’d told Angie was personal business. He smiled. And if Lee has it, no doubt Chip does as well, he acknowledged, not annoyed with that bit of intel. But not even Jiggs Stark had that specific number, and Nelson’s smile grew as he thought back to when he'd refused the ComSubPac – and Nelson’s best friend – that information.

Much more under control, he nursed his first drink. Alone, in the bar, he pondered if he was, actually, lonely. In a way, yes, he admitted. Did it bother him? Well, sort of, was his first thought, and he pondered that as he sipped the strong alcohol. And yet… He thought some more. I’m comfortable here, drinking alone. Oh, for sure, I could wish Allen and Eleanor were here with me. But I’m not unhappy with my memories, he decided. We all lose friends, family, people we know. He shrugged. And the older we get, the more that it’s going to happen, he added philosophically.

Do I want change in my life? he asked himself. If I’m not unhappy with my memories, am I unhappy with my present life? That one took him into his second drink. No, was the simple answer. But was it really that simple? He was all too aware that one seemingly insignificant change – in any part of a person’s life – could affect so many other things; so many other people. NIMR was a perfect example. He’d set out to put together an organization to help him protect the oceans, such a vital part of Earth’s existence. And how many people were now employed there? How many other people’s lives had he touched, changed, altered from what their plans were before accepting a position at NIMR. Some had come, then left to pursue other jobs; other interests. Most had stayed; he was happy that he’d created a work environment that people were comfortable staying within.

Yes, I’m satisfied with what I have accomplished, and comfortable with continuing on. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t mourn what I’ve lost, and he silently toasted the air before polishing off the drink.

* * * *

“Move it,” Chip ordered the seal as he and Lee took a couple cautious steps forward. “This ain’t a proper beach for you to be master of.” Lee grinned at Chip’s use of the name given an elephant seal guarding his chosen harem: Beachmaster. Neither man was in immediate danger; they could move much faster on land than the huge seal. Still, 8000 pounds of angry animal wasn’t to be messed with lightly.

“Even if he doesn’t go back into the water, maybe we can shift him to the other side of the chamber,” Lee told the blond. “We can’t get back to FS1 without our tanks.” Chip nodded and moved closer to Lee, to try to get the seal to shift away from their equipment. Instead, the animal turned toward their challenge, one huge flipper now all but covering the tanks.

“Any more bright ideas?” Chip muttered.

“Well,” Lee offered after a few seconds, “if he wants a fight, suppose we come at him from over there,” he pointed toward where they wanted the animal to move.

“Reverse logic. Got it,” and they very slowly moved to the other side. The chamber wasn’t all that big, and the seal took up a very large chunk of it. They weren’t known for charging humans; researchers often walked among them on the beaches where they regularly hauled out to mate and have their young. But in these tight quarters neither man was taking the situation lightly.

The big animal followed their movement with his head only until Chip reached out with his spear gun and gently tapped the big guy close to his back flippers. The giant let out a mighty roar and whirled that direction faster than either man anticipated, and they both instantly backed up.

“Ah,” Lee started, “you might not want to do that again,” he observed.

Chip glared at him but nodded. “No joke,” he agreed.

“But he did move a foot or so away from the tanks.”

“Humm,” Chip glanced between Lee and the seal. “I’ll stay here and keep him distracted while you sneak in close and pull the tanks away?”

“Just be sure not to let him pin you in the corner,” Lee agreed to the plan, and started edging once more to where they’d laid their equipment.

That worked better; while the seal watched Lee closely he was definitely more interested in keeping an eye on Chip. The blond waited until Lee was mostly to the big guy’s other side and once more reached out. While he was using the point of the spear, he was barely touching the animal. He was actually surprised that the animal even felt it, as much blubber as was covering the well-fed animal, and said as much to Lee.

The brunet nodded. “It’s probably just that, to touch him you have to get within his comfort zone,” he theorized.

“Makes better sense,” Chip agreed, carefully watching the animal’s head. As Lee was almost in position Chip gave a couple of low grunts, trying to sound like another male elephant seal, and tapped the end of the animal’s elongated nose, what gave the elephant seal his name.

It almost worked too well. Again the animal moved faster than they thought possible, charging several feet in Chip’s direction. But thankfully the men were just as fast, Chip moving out of the way and Lee grabbing their gear and dragging it over to the chamber wall on that side. Chip scurried to join him, they both quickly geared up while the seal continued to give them, especially Chip it seemed, mean looks and a couple of angry snorts.

“Obviously doesn’t like blonds,” Lee snickered as they prepared to re-enter the water. But then he got serious. “If it was sharks that drove him in here, we’re going to have to be extra careful getting out.”

“Good point,” Chip also considered that possibility and they carefully headed out of the chamber.

* * * *

Nelson finally called Angie as he waited at LAX for his flight to Santa Barbara. “Everything under control here,” she assured her boss, and then chuckled softly.

“What?” he ordered. He was all too familiar with that sound. Normally she was all business but could easily get amused, usually at the hijinks of his two senior officers. “What did they do this time?” he demanded, although his voice lost a good deal of his instant suspicion.

She laughed outright at the Admiral’s correct guess. “Haven’t heard yet this afternoon,” she told him, a smile still in her voice. “They ‘borrowed their dad’s keys’, and she paused to chuckle again. “They took out FS1,” she clarified, “and went diving off San Miguel Island. Chief Sharkey is still aboard Seaview doing a few things. He’ll let me know when they get back.”

Nelson allowed himself to join the ‘game’. “You’ve alerted Will to the possibility that he might have to work late?” he asked, also now grinning.

“Did,” Angie told him. “He growled at me.” They both openly laughed.

“Be home about 1800 hours. I’ll swing by the office on my way.”

“No need,” Angie assured him. “If all’s well I’ll leave a text on your phone.”

“That works,” Nelson agreed, and they both hung up with grins on their faces.

* * * *

Whatever reason the elephant seal had for coming into the chamber, it wasn’t evident as Lee and Chip made their way back to the Flying Sub. Once aboard, as they started to strip off their equipment and re-dress in the khaki’s they’d both worn merely to make it official as they took off with NIMR equipment, they happened to glance at each other at the same time and both burst out laughing.

“Never a dull moment,” Lee told the blond, who nodded.

Chip blew out a long breath. “All these years with NIMR and that’s the closest I’ve ever been to an actual Beachmaster.”

“Same here,” Lee agreed. “And I’m not sure that I ever want to be again!”

“Yeah,” Chip sent him a nod and they finished dressing.

They were nearly back to NIMR when Chief Sharkey called. “Just checking,” he told Lee, who responded. “Angie wanted you to know that the Admiral is due back about 1800 hours. Unless he’s needed he’ll go straight home and see you both in the morning, but that Doc will be in his office until after you get back.”

Lee and Chip shared a slightly evil grin before this time Chip responded. “Tell ‘Mother Hen’,” the two’s mildly derogatory name for NIMR’s CMO, “that he can go home,” Chip ordered. “And tell Angie that we didn’t even scratch the paint on the boss’ ‘car’.”

The COB snickered. “Got it,” came back with a grin in his voice.

“We’ll be tucking FS1 into her berth in about forty-five minutes,” Lee added.

“The Maintenance Crew is finishing up a couple things. I should still be here,” Sharkey told them, and the connection was broken.

“He’s becoming a bigger ‘mother hen’ than Jamie,” Chip complained.

“We had ‘dad’s’ vehicle out,” Lee all but snickered, and they both ended up grinning.

* * * *

When Nelson got off the small plane and switched his cell phone back on, there was a quick text telling him that his officers had returned unscathed, as had FS1. Nelson chuckled and headed to pick up his car. With those two there was no telling what could happen, hence the teasing. Arriving home, to a note from Mrs. Garcia that his dinner was in the crock pot he changed, ate, and settled into his big rocker-recliner, his drink of choice tonight just coffee. Extra strong! It had been a pleasant flight home, but despite the bit of silly with Angie he’d once more allowed deeper thoughts to enter his mind. And especially now, as he came home to his big, empty house. He thought back on why he’d allowed the contractors he’d hired to help design NIMR talk him into such a large house. “To make a good impression,” one of them had told him, “sitting up here on the hill, overlooking your domain.” It had made sense at the time.

But he wasn’t sure if it still did. Not that I’m going to tear it down and put up something smaller, he admitted. And this will be Lee’s house someday. “I hope,” he added softly out loud. While they had, mostly calmly, discussed NIMR’s future after Nelson forced himself to sit down with Lee and actually ask the younger man, not tell him, how he envisioned NIMR’s future, there was always the chance that ‘The Future’ had other plans. Just because you wanted and expected something to happen a certain way, there was never any guarantees that that’s the way it would go. Nelson didn’t like to think about it; he was far too used to getting his own way, and he snorted softly at that admission.

Go to bed, you old goat, he finally told himself. You can’t change the past. And the future will unfold however it does. Yes, you can made different decisions as to your future. But you really can’t knock the ones you’ve made in the past, all things considered. All things change, he reminded himself as he rose and headed toward the staircase up to his bedroom. We lose some things, some people. But we also learn from those losses. It comes down to how you ‘play the game’, and he snickered as that triggered thoughts of his two young senior officers. I haven’t ‘played’ all that badly. Another smile hit his face as he climbed the stairs realizing that, somehow, the weight he’d placed on his shoulders as he sat by his dying friend’s side was finally starting to lift. He admitted that he wasn’t sure why he’d put it there in the first place, although a little introspection wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Just so long as you remember, he smiled, that the tide that goes out always comes back in.

* see “Cobwebs” by R. L. Keller

** see “Sensory Overload” (all three parts) by R. L. Keller

*** see “Midnight Soliloquy” by R. L. Keller

**** see “Out of the Action” by R. L. Keller