My
Journal
By
Harriman Nelson
~In
God We Trust~
11
No
alarm woke me this morning, though Chip and Will had suggested (strongly) that
I not set it, to allow for my ravaged mind to rest by sleeping in.
I
woke early anyway. But seeing that it wasn’t yet 0630 and still in my night
attire headed to the Observation Nose. I turned one of the loungers to face the
view ports and setting it into a semi reclining position, sat down.
The
illuminated bubbles gave off a calming aura. I couldn’t help remembering the
many times I’d found Lee here soaking in the ambience as well. We’d both found it comforting.
O’Brien
still had the conn. Neither he nor the men on watch had asked how I was,
probably warned by Morton not to. My
presence was merely acknowledged with sympathetic nods. No doubt everyone knew
I’d had a bad night, and experience had taught them to leave me in peace after
such nights, or even teleconference calls that put me into bad moods. Or
perhaps Chip, as captain, had ordered a ship wide ‘LTBA’. Lee had invented the
‘Leave the Boss Alone’ mode some years before. Seldom used, at times I’d
welcomed the initiation of the move comforting.
Returning
my attention to the bubbles, I pondered my nightmare, able to recall it in
detail. As a man of science, such things as the so called meanings of dreams
and premonitions are tucked away in my mind as superstitious nonsense, but this
dream, well, it had been unnerving. And all too real for it not to have meant
something. Something foul, and even I had to regard it as a possible de’ja vu phenomenon. This was possibly a premonition
especially as I recalled from school boy history lessons that Abraham Lincoln
had had a premonition about his death. The fact that it happened a few days
before his life was taken made it all the more eerie.
He
had found himself in the middle of the night awakened by the sound of weeping
and wailing. Searching for whomever was in distress, he searched the rooms of
the White House finding them deserted until he came to a room full of mourners. Soldiers were
guarding a draped corpse and he asked them who lay under the funerary
sheets. “Why, it’s the president. He was
assassinated,” came the reply. A few
days later he joined his dream’s corpse in reality.
The
similarities between Abe’s dream and mine, well, are just too disturbing not to
take my dream seriously. But what am I to do? Order Lee to wear body armor,
have his food tested, enclose him in a mobile steel bubble?
“Morning,
sir,” Cookie interrupted my musings and sat a carafe of freshly brewed coffee
on the sideboard.
“Morning,”
I replied but kept to my seat.
“I
saw a request from Captain Morton on my desk this morning for some Oatmeal
Raisin cookies. Would you like me to add peanut butter and maybe chocolate chip
as well? They’re all great comfort foods...er...I
mean...oh shit.”
Indeed,
the word was out about the boss’s disturbing dream.
“It’s
all right.”
“The
coffee’s the skippers blend...I mean the president’s...want to talk about it,
sir? I know I’m not supposed to ask about your nightmare, but you did kind of
wake up the boat in a manner of speaking. And Ski said he heard you moaning the
skipper’s name...er the president’s. Sorry I keep forgetting.
President or not, he’ll always be the ‘The Skipper’ to me sir.”
“Actually,
I could use someone to bounce something off of. Have a seat.”
He
took a chair and leaned forward, waiting for me to begin.
“What
do you know about my dream?”
“Not
much, sir, except it was a bad one. About the skip.”
“What I want now, need to know now,” I began,
“if you know anything about dreams, is if one can stop a bad dream from
happening to someone. In this case, the
president.”
“Like
a premonition? Well, I’d say you might be able to prevent whatever it is by
making sure he doesn’t do whatever it is that caused the bad thing to happen.”
“There’s
the rub, Cookie. My dream didn’t address the how, why, or wherefores...only
that he was dead.”
“I
don’t have any answer for you, sir. I wish I did. Admiral?” he hesitated, “You
sure it was him?”
“Couldn’t
be anyone else. His rings were on top of
a flag draped coffin in the capitol rotunda...four honor guards around it. His
mother was there, all in black, everyone weeping. Then I knew, heartbroken.”
“Shit,
sir. That must have felt like hell...but your brain probably just put some
stuff together and it was all just imaginary.”
“That’s
what I want to tell myself, only...President Lincoln had the same kind of
dream, and it came true.”
“Damn.
I remember learning something about that on a documentary. Well, I sure don’t
know squat about dreams except the bible talks about dreams and visions and
they were taken seriously. If this dream’s bugging you about maybe being a premonition,
well, maybe you should tell the skipper to take better precautions? Just in
case?”
“I
very greatly doubt he’d bother...thank you, Cookie, I’ve taken up enough of
your time.”
“Yes,
sir. Once we get both breakfast seating’s taken care of we’ll start on those
cookies...I’m sure things will be okay, sir,” Cookie added as he took his leave
of me.
And
so I was still stuck in a kind of limbo. If a simple dream, ignore it, have
done with the horrible memory? If a premonition, then tell Lee I have reason to
believe he won’t fulfill his term of office because I dreamed he was
assassinated?
“Morning,
sir,” Ski interrupted my musings,
“Morning,
Ski...ready to be in charge of some angles and dangles today?”
“I’ll
try my damnedest though I’m sure to get an upset stomach.”
“Perhaps
you should take some pink stuff before things begin. Well, I should probably go
toget dressed and get myself some pink stuff myself,”
I added, leaving the comfort of my front porch and climbed up the spiral ladder
to head to my cabin.
***
I
was pretty sure that Chip had delayed the early watch’s angles and dangles to
allow me a little time to pull myself together and get some breakfast under my
belt. But I decided against any food prior to the drills. I’d been in need of a
bib before when eating during such drills, thank you very much. And instead of
sitting down at my desk, I did the next best thing and had Sparks see if he
could get me my old friend Jiggs on the video phone, hoping he might be able to
shed some light on dreams and such. But he was unavailable which was probably a
good thing as the tilts and rolls would have made me hold on to the videophone
and to my desk’s hand holds for dear life.
***
The
drills lasted longer than I’d have liked. In fact, checking my watch showed the
drills had been going on for more than two hours. No wonder my stomach was growling for sustenance. And my head ached for coffee. I chided myself
for not having poured myself some in the nose.
We’d
been level for about two minutes and I expected another lunge downward when
Ski’s voice came over the PA announcing the end of the drills.
“Good
job, Ski,” I heard Chief Sharkey say.
“Sign
the log, Ski,” Chip ordered, “then report to the radio shack to relieve Sparks.
He’ll be on stand by if there are any problems. By
the way you left the PA on.”
“Oh
shit!”
“Officers
don’t swear,” Sharkey corrected him.
“At
least not much,” Captain Morton corrected Sharkey as the PA turned off.
A
few minutes later I was about to head to the Wardroom to see what was left from
breakfast, doubting if anything was, though I knew for sure there would be
coffee, when the PA turned on again.
“Admiral
Nelson? Call for you. The White House.”
“Secure
line?” I heard Chip ask.
“Er...oh, here it is. Admiral? It’s on a secure line...you
can take it on your phone or if you prefer, the videophone...:
“Who’s
calling?” Chip asked him.
“Oh...er....the White House switchboard just said it was a call
for Admiral Nelson.”
“Then
find out. I’m sure the admiral will want to know just who wants to get in touch with him. There are over 4000
employees in the Executive Office...”
I
bit my lip. That was an official reprimand if I’d ever heard one.
“And
mute the PA whenever you need to check your facts.”
“Yes
sir...sorry, sir...”
The
mute button clicked and I could imagine both sympathetic grins and snide
remarks by Ski’s shipmates. While some of the men were proud of Ski’s
advancement, others had not been amused about his becoming an officer wannabe.
The
PA clicked back on.
“Admiral
Nelson? Cdr. Jackson is on the videophone for you. Secure call, sir.”
“Very
well,” I said. “Pipe him through.”
“Right
away, sir.”
My
videophone sprang to life awaiting my retina and fingerprint scans. Finally my
videophone’s green ‘go’ light came on.
“Two
way transmission secure,” Ski’s voice came over. “Radio shack out. Public
Address system off,” he added with relief.
The
screen cleared to show the Oval Office, but it wasn’t Jackson in front of the
president’s videophone on the Resolute desk. He was studying a report that Lee
was flipping through before I coughed to make my ‘arrival’ known.
“Thanks,
Joe,” Lee told him, “Tell the DOD they
have my approval for their new strike force.”
“Yes,
Mr. President,” Joe answered formally, and headed toward one of the ante
chambers, closing the door behind him.
“Morning,
Harry,” Lee told me. “I understand you had a premonition about me.”
“What?
How the devil...”
“Riley,”
Lee smirked. “Apparently he called the switchboard. Poor kid was practically weeping
telling the operator it was a matter of life or death for me. At least the
switchboard didn’t hang up on him as a crank call or transfer him to security
before he could convince the operator that he was aboard Seaview.
“I
was with the UK ambassador so they piped him through to Joe. Riley only said he
knew you’d had a premonition about my death, no details, but he was adamant I
be warned about taking any unnecessary risks.”
Apparently
great minds think alike.
“So
tell me, Harry, how did he get his call out? I know Ski’s been assigned to the
radio at times, but I doubt even he would allow an external call without
permission from a senior officer. And no, I haven’t contacted Chip about it,
yet, anyway. And, Harry, just how and when am I going to go meet my Maker?”
“I
don’t know if it was a premonition, but....” I hesitated.
“Go
on.”
And
so I told him. Every single detail of my nightmare.
“Any
idea how I died? Natural causes? Auto accident? Food poisoning? Or...assassination?”
“Nobody
in my dream told me and I didn’t hear anyone say. But it was so damn similar to
Lincoln’s dream...the one that foretold his death...I have to tell you, son, I
was such a wreck that Doc had to sedate me.”
“I’m
sorry I put you through all that.”
“I
keep telling myself it was just a dream but...”
“Yeah,
I know. The problem with premonitions is you can’t know if they are unless they
come true...”
“You
will take better care of yourself? Just in case?”
“I’m
already cosseted and hovered over too much...but...okay...I’ll be good...not
that it will help. If my number’s up soon, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“If
that’s your way of thinking, then why was I given the damn dream in the first
place if not to protect you from it happening?”
“I
don’t know, Harry...anyway, I also called for another reason...that volcanic
eruption in the Aleutians? Well, it was only partially seismic... We couldn’t
intercept the missile, not completely anyway. It crashed into the Aleutian’s volcanic
ridge. Exploded mostly underwater but triggered one of the volcanoes to erupt.
That’s what people are seeing from the satellite videos.”
“Then Ronald’s interpretation of the weather
satellite was wrong.... just like you proved to those children.”
Lee
ran a hand through his hair.
“Not
exactly...I had the videos doctored. Even the children might have been able to
see some of the contrail of the missile if not. In effect, I lied, and I had
Operations, in effect, lie too by altering the images. When it’s no longer
classified, I’m going to be in some pretty deep doo doo.”
“You
had no choice. Public panic along our Pacific coast would have caused a great
deal of chaos and accidents.”
“Yes,
but I still feel pretty bad about lying...and...Harry, it’s not the only bomb
to make it to our shores... that oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico, thank God our
early warning system got the workers off and well away before an ‘explosive
mechanical failure’, that tsunami
reaching Key West of Florida was blamed on it, but it was a another bomb that
landed in the Gulf, about twenty five miles off shore...Then there was a
‘volcano’ in Greenland... oh, I know a president has to lie at times,
especially to prevent such panic, or even the need to misinform enemy
agents...doesn’t help me excuse myself from
all the subterfuge...you will keep this under your hat?”
“You
don’t even have to ask, Lee.”
“Thanks...you’ll
go easy on Riley, won’t you? Ski too?”
“They’ll be reprimanded but I won’t let Chip
put Riley to work scrubbing the bilges and I’ll limit Ski’s demerits and put
him on the owl watch for a couple of watches...that is,” I added with a smirk,
“if I have the president’s word that he’ll allow the Secret Service to protect
him with a few more men at his side? In and out of the White House...”
“You
do know some of them are women? I think I’d be pretty uncomfortable with one or
two of them in my bedroom.”
“What?
You mean the Secret Service shares your bedroom?”
“Not
yet, but them constantly hovering over me is already intolerable. I can’t serve
my country if I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, and them too...look, I
won’t complain anymore about them keeping my private rooms open with guards at
each door, though it’s like having to have a night light on to keep the boogeyman
away.”
“Can
you sleep?”
“Sleep?
What’s that? And no, I won’t take sleeping pills. I have to have a clear mind
24/7 in case of an emergency....I fall asleep easily enough if I’m exhausted
from lack of it...”
“Well,
be careful Lee...I worry about you.”
“And
I you...It might have just been a dream, you know.”
“Yes,
good Lord, that’s what I’ve been praying it was.”
“Let’s
leave the future to Him, then, okay? But tell Riley I’ll take better
precautions anyway.”
“By
the way, son, I know there’s no scientific task group, but...”
“But
you’ve been trying to figure out a way to neutralize the PR’s atomic and mega
bugs anyway? No, we haven’t been listening in to Seaview’s conversations, even
if one of our defense satellites has the capability...working on the problem is
just something I know you’d do.”
Just
then Joe came back with a stack of reports.
“Sorry
to interrupt, sirs. Nothing urgent, but...”
“I
take the hint,” I said, “Take good care of him, Joseph.”
“Harry,”
Lee whined semi juvenile, semi-serious.
“I’ll
do my best, Admiral,” Joe said.
“God
speed, Harry...you and Seaview,” Lee said, shutting down his videophone before
I could respond. Which was probably a good idea to prevent me from waxing on
and on, and Lee too...Gawd I wondered what we’d both be like as old men one
day, in our rocking chairs while we talked shop and reminisced.
I
rescanned my retinas and fingerprints and shut down my videophone.
“Captain
Morton?” I asked via the intercom on my desk. “Please send Midshipman Kowalski
and Seaman Riley to my cabin at the earliest convenience. Bring yourself as
well.”
All
three were in my cabin two minutes later, where I had Chip cite proper
shipboard procedures regarding the radio.
“Very
well,” I said. “The president wants me to go light on you both. Captain Morton
will write your infractions up in the log. Ski you’ll have ten demerits added
to your NROTC record. You’ll both be on the owl watch for the next four days.
That will be all.”
“Aye,
sir,” both said, disappointed and relieved their punishment wasn’t worse.
“Sir?”
Riley asked, “The president really said that? To go easy on us?”
“He
did,” I grinned. “And he told me to inform you that he will indeed take more
precautions as to his safety.”
“Man,
he is, like, really awesome!” Riley replied as he and Ski exited.
“He
certainly is,” Chip said, following them out.
“Indeed,”
I said to myself, and began to write down the events so far of today.
~***~