A long time ago in a chat room
far away, the question was raised as to what the guys would act like if they
got a little toasted. My brain…
Toast:
An Admiral’s Definition.
Sharon
H.
“The admiral is
toasted,” Chip Morton announced in a low serious voice.
Lee Crane shot
the blond a stricken look. “What? When? How? Why?” he stammered.
“You forgot the
‘who’,” Chip added as his blue eyes danced with amusement.
“I already know
the ‘who,’ Blondzilla. Now what the devil are you talking about?” Lee shot
back. Obviously there was more going on than what Chip was telling.
“You should go
to Sickbay. This requires a visual. Trust me,” Morton answered mysteriously.
Lee dropped his
pencil to the table. “I’ll do just that. Try not to run us into anything while
I’m gone,” he tossed to his best friend. Heading toward Sickbay, Lee tried to
puzzle out what on earth Chip was talking about. Nelson liked his scotch but
never to a point of getting drunk on a cruise.
“There’s
nothing wrong with me, Jamie.” The admiral’s irate bass echoed through the
corridor and Lee picked up his pace. The slightly charred smell of something
burnt hit Lee’s senses and he wrinkled his nose in reflex. The smell was coming
from Sickbay. He entered the open door of his least favorite part of the boat
to find a rather unique sight.
Admiral
Harriman Nelson was setting on the exam table, holding rather than wearing his
charred and still smoking khaki shirt, clearly agitated that the CMO was calmly
ignoring his protests that he was fine. Jamie was busy listening to the
admiral’s heart rate and respiration. Nelson’s broad, bare chest was dotted
with scars. Most were old reminders of past encounters but there was also a
scattered of new marks—raw red patches that could only be burns.
Nelson’s rugged
features were coated in a thick layer of black soot. Only two white holes
around his eyes, from where he must have rubbed them clear, encircled the twin
orbs of sapphire flame. The normally tamed auburn hair was now rather scotched
looking and standing straight up, ignoring Nelson’s attempts to make it conform
to regulation. He continued to run a hand though the mess, which only served to
further muss the tousled, tangled mane. As Lee continued to look, he noticed
that the toes of Nelson’s black shoes were also blown out and the smoldering
remains of his socks peeked through the ragged holes. His left foot didn’t even
have a sock left. Bare toes wiggled freely inside the shoe. Lee felt a laugh trying to burble up but he choked
it back down. He couldn’t keep the laughter from his eyes though and the
admiral focused that glare of his on the young captain. Lee squirmed, trying to
look serious and failing miserably.
“Do you find
something amusing, Ensign?” Nelson grumbled, fully realizing that Lee was
inches away from busting out in laughter.
“No sir,
nothing is funny, sir,” Lee managed covering his mouth with his knuckles.
“I suppose Chip
sent you down here.”
“Something like that.”
Nelson sighed.
“Go ahead and laugh Lee, before you rupture
something,” he rumbled.
Lee couldn’t
stop the wild cackle that erupted. Bending over with his hands on his knees, it
was several long minutes before he could get control and return to some sense
of normalcy.
“Ah, sir, if I
might ask,” Lee inquired once he was able to form a coherent sentence.
Nelson sighed
again. “An experiment in the lab. Two wires must have
crossed or something because the whole unit I was rewiring reversed polarity
and sent a shock through me that knocked me against the bulkhead. Sharkey
happened to going be by and heard ‘this outlandish bang,’ as he put it.”
Lee nodded in
understanding. Sharkey had a weird sixth sense about the admiral. “And how did
Chip find out?”
“He was coming
from his cabin and saw me with Sharkey and ‘suggested’ that the chief see me to
Sickbay.”
“And a good
thing he did, Skipper. Admiral, I want to keep you for observation for at least
twenty-four hours,” Jamieson said as he hung the stethoscope back around his
neck.
Nelson shot the
doctor a disgusted look. “Twenty-four hours? What for? There’s nothing wrong
with me!” Nelson protested with venom.
“Probably not,
but I intend to monitor your heart rate just to make sure there isn’t any
evidence of arrhythmia.” The doctor was obviously not giving in.
Nelson shot Lee
a pleading look. “Commander Crane, explain to this man that there is nothing
wrong with me.”
Lee was not
about to do any such thing. Jamie was perfectly within rights to keep the
admiral for observation. Knowing he’d pay for his comments later, Lee decided
to throw his support behind the CMO. “Admiral, you pay Doctor Jamieson for his
experience. If he thinks he needs to keep you for twenty-four hours, you should
let him do his job.”
The look on
Nelson’s face would have sent lesser men running for their lives. Lee backed
out of Sickbay slowly, as if retreating from something poisonous. The admiral
could be vicious in retaliation. Lee figured he’d have to watch his back
carefully in weeks to come.
Jamieson
noticed Lee’s retreat and quickly encouraged it. “I’ll need to get the admiral
settled with a heart monitor. Why don’t you come back when things are a
little…calmer?” he suggested.
“Let me know
when that might be?” Lee asked, three steps into the
corridor.
“Absolutely. Come on, Admiral. Let’s get you out
of those toasted clothes.
Lee made a
hasty retreat as Nelson and Jamieson traded off with suggestions about were the
other could go and what they could do when they got there.
Lee retraced
his path to the Control Room, still chuckling. Leave it to Admiral Nelson to
give a new meaning to the word ‘toasted’.
End
srh
beadqueen73@yahoo.com