My
Journal
By
Harriman Nelson
~In
God We Trust~
13
I
was no closer to a solution in our quest to neutralize radiation and bio bug by
the time I headed to the Wardroom for a midnight snack.
“O’Brien?”
I asked, “I’m surprised you’re still up...didn’t Morton have Connolly take your
watch for tonight?”
“Yes,
sir, but I’m thinking of selling my comic book collection for a little extra
money. Kids are expensive.”
“Indeed
they are. Look, I can have NIMR accounting issue a loan for you, and I’m sure
it can arrange a reasonable repayment schedule...”
“Thank
you sir, I’d sure appreciate not having to sell these first editions. I even have first editions of Superman. Well
before my time, but when I had a chance to watch some shows a TV station
unearthed from some archives, well, I enjoyed the entire premise and started
collecting what I could. I sure liked his X-ray vision. Too bad he couldn’t use it through lead.
And would you believe it, that’s the same stuff dentists use to protect you
from X-Rays....”
“Say
that again,” I interrupted.
“Sir?”
But
I’d already raced out and down to my lab. Had a comic book creation from1933
given me the key to unlocking the problem of nuclear radiation?
***
A
knock at the door interrupted my calculations. Another knock.
“Oh
good grief!” I yelled. “Come in, come in....”
Cookie
opened the door holding a steaming mug of coffee, and a plate holding a
powdered doughnut.
“Heard
you’ve been up all night...thought you might like some joe...er...you know it’s nearly 0700?”
“Guess
I lost track of time,” I said sheepishly, nodding to the far side of the work
desk for the goods.
“Got
some cinnamon rolls too....”
I
got off my stool and stretched before I took the two steps to examine my
impromptu breakfast. It was a ‘Bismarck’, and not a packaged product. “From
scratch?”
“Darn
tootin,” Cookie said with a grin.
I
downed some of the strong black coffee, then took a bite of the doughnut, the
strawberry jelly oozing onto my grateful tongue.
“Oh,
this is too good...I’m sure I’ll want seconds...and maybe even one of your
cinnamon rolls...as long as they’re from scratch as well.”
“Cap’n Morton thought you might like both. I have already
set a couple more of each aside for you...er...you
think you’ll be in here much longer? He was kind of worried about you...”
“Just
working on something for Lee...er...the president....”
“We
kinda’ figured...but we sure as hell don’t know what
it has to do with old Superman comic books. Mr. O’Brien said you ran down here
like a bat out of hell last night. But Cap’n Morton
didn’t want anyone to disturb you.”
“Glad
he didn’t,” I said, taking another delectable bite, and downing it with another
glug of coffee. “Cookie, I think we may have made a breakthrough. Will need to
do some testing. But, I think we may have turned the corner regarding what my
egghead scientist buddies think is impossible. A way to neutralize nuclear
warheads...”
“That’s
good news, sir! Man, the skipper sure will be happy about that! I mean, the
president.”
“I
know, Cookie, I know who you mean,” I laughed.
“After all this time, he’s still the skipper to all of us, even to
Captain Morton.”
“It’s
all over the news what happened yesterday. Damn, but I’m so proud of him I
could bust.”
“Same
here, Cookie,” I said as I finished the doughnut. “Bring down the doughnuts and
the cinnamon rolls you set aside will you? I want to keep working on some of
these calculations before I get dressed...”
“Right
away, sir.” he beamed at me as Chip appeared and he raised his fingers in the
old fashioned victory sign before continuing on his task.
I
was still licking my fingers when Chip raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Ever
wonder why dental techs put a heavy lead lined apron on when you get an x-ray?
Or why Superman can’t see through lead? Well, lead scatters the X-ray atoms so
they can’t hurt you, well, not too much...Chip, if we could render lead into
their base molecules, their own atoms, in an airborne suspension...we might
just be able to neutralize a radioactive explosion...have the lead atoms
scatter the radiation, making it relatively harmless...just a theory right
now...but I think it’s feasible...I’ll need to use the reactor to test it out.
Once I figure out how to reduce lead into its base elements....and...I can’t
guarantee it will work even if I do...but...it’s a lead, Chip...I really think
we’ve come up with something....”
“Congratulation,
sir...only you came up with the idea, there’s no ‘we’ in this.”
“Ah
but I wouldn’t have thought of it without O’Brien’s comic books. Give credit
where credit is due.”
“Want
to call Lee?”
“I
don’t want to get his hopes up if it doesn’t work.”
“He’ll
still want to know...”
“Very
well...get him now...”
“You’re
not even dressed yet...”
“Who
gives a damn...”
Chip
clicked the mike and had Sparks call the White House.
The
call took a few moments then I wondered what time it was there, as Washington
was about three to four hours ahead of wherever we were in the Pacific.
“Sorry,
Captain,” Sparks said over the PA, “The switchboard said the president is
unavailable.”
“Then
put the call through to Cdr. Jackson’s cell phone. Non secure.”
“Right
away.”
But
it took time as well, but finally Sparks reported that Cdr. Jackson was on the line.
It
was the Oval Office that came into view, where Jackson was setting some reports
down on the Resolute desk with his free hand.
“What’s
up, Chip?”
“We
need to talk to Lee.”
“Unavailable,”
Joe said sarcastically, “Not that he’d want to be. I’ll transfer you to Mrs.
C.’s cell...but you’d better put on some earplugs.,”
Before
we could ask what was wrong, we heard her cell ring, and ring, and ring.
Finally it clicked ‘on’ but went to her voice mail.
“Leave
your message at the beep,” the recording said before the click to record.
“This
is Seaview,” Chip said. “We need to talk to Lee. C’mon, Mrs. C., give him the
phone and....”
The
recording beep ended the call.
“Try
again,” I told Chip who asked Sparks to call again. And again we got Mrs. C.’s
voice mail.
This
time I left the message.
“Nelson
here. Give the damn phone to the president! He won’t forgive you if you don’t...”
This
time she spoke
with the cam on.
“Keep
it down!” she whispered, irate. “He’s still asleep.”
“At
about 1000 hours?” Chip asked.
“He
has to get some sleep sometime...you can leave a message.”
“He’ll
want to hear this one personally,” I said.
“He
can sleep after,” Chip added.
“Oh
very well...on your head be it, then,” she said as she entered the presidential
bedroom. The curtains were still drawn and indeed, Lee was fast asleep, Sweetie
on his pillow, and Winston on the bed at his feet. “Sweetheart?” Mrs. C. said quietly tapping
his shoulder. “Lee? Call for you...tried to stop it, but Nelson insists...”
“Mmm. Wha...Harry?” he added,
shooting upright, taking the phone, “What’s wrong? Seaview okay?”
“She’s
fine, son,” I said. “but I had to report this
personally...”
“What,”
he coughed, “what time is it?”
“Here,
a little after 0700. There, a bit over 1000.”
“Ten?
Mom! I told you not to mess with my alarm clock!”
“You
needed to sleep.”
“I’m
the president,” he coughed again, “sleep is irrelevant...”
“Lee,
what’s wrong?” I asked. “That cough sounds bad.”
“Just
a bit of dust and dog fur that got into my lungs that’s all.”
“Well,
you get checked out.”
“The
news, Harry?” Lee asked, not acknowledging my ‘suggestion’.
“I
think I have a breakthrough for neutralizing radioactive warheads...more tests
to do, but I think I’m on the right track.”
“I
knew you could do it!” he said, getting out of bed. “Do you want to stay aboard
or do you need one of our labs here?”
“All
I need is your permission to use our reactor for some tests. At least that’s
all I need so far. I can send you the details via a secure fax...”
“I
doubt I’d understand it, but okay, send away, better address it to Joe...”
“Acknowledged,”
I said as he coughed some more, “And get that cough checked out.”
“That
an order, Admiral?” Lee smirked.
“You
know damn well it’s not, Mr. President...but, it would make me happy. It would
make Chip happy, and if the captain of the Seaview’s happy, then the crew’s
happy.”
“Wish
I’d known I had such power when I was captain,” he joked, knowing full well the
truth of it. “Okay, I’ll mention it to the doctors when I go get my fitting for
my new prosthesis today. Might even be able to wear it home.”
“You’ll
do more than mention your cough,” Chip said firmly. “I promise to send Doc or
maybe Riley to call on you if you don’t.”
“Riley?”
Lee asked, aghast. “You couldn’t be so heartless. He’d smother me to death with
concern more than Mom does!”
“Take
it or leave it.”
“All
right, all right...Joe will accompany me and send you pictures....”
“Very
well,” Chip said and departed, leaving me a little privacy. Mrs. C. got the
point and departed as well.
“You
don’t look so well, son,” I told him.
“Just
a bit tired...is that jelly on your lips?”
“Wha...damn,” I said wiping my mouth with my pajama sleeve,
“you’d think Chip would have told me...jelly doughnut...from scratch...Cookie
make cinnamon rolls too, but I haven’t any of those yet.”
“Oh
gawd...how about inventing
a transporter like in that old movie so I can have some. And
that’s an order. A delayed one until your present invention is completed but
after then....”he smirked.
“Acknowledged,”
I said knowing full well such a thing was decades away, if even. “Take care of
yourself, Lee.”
“Ah
shucks, and I was going to have fun today...got myself invited to an NCIS paint ball game.”
“Have
you ever played paint ball?”
“No,
but McGee’s promised to instruct me.”
“God
help us all...well, I hear those cinnamon rolls calling me...have a good day,
Lee.”
“You
too. JCML out,” he smirked and the call ended.
***
By
the time I’d showered, shaved, and made myself presentable, which hadn’t
been easy as somehow my second and third servings
of Cookie’s Bismarks
had made their way past my fingers into my hair, not to mention the cinnamon
sugar from the cinnamon rolls. But at
last, sated, except the need for more coffee, I made my way to the Wardroom for
some.
The
monitor was tuned to CNN, where its news-van (and others) were outside of the main entrance to
Bethesda.
“...The
president arrived here a few minutes ago for another fitting of his new prosthesis
which we’ve learned will be a working digital eye. The president’s badly
damaged optical nerve which had undergone delicate neo surgery some time ago,
has now been deemed healed enough to allow for limited vision with the prosthesis.
“...Cdr.
Jackson, the president’s chief personal advisor and sometime aide d’ camp, is
in attendance, though Mrs. Crane is in the waiting room, but she did inform us
that her son plans to join one of his friends, Special Agent McGee of NCIS in a
paint ball exercise shortly after the president is released from the outpatient
surgery.
“...
She is not very happy about what she calls taking a risk to his brand new eye,
but he’s agreed to wear protective goggles. When the Secretary of State and
Vice President were informed of his plans, both were disturbed by the pseudo
military training, or sport, depending on your point of view....ah, here comes
the president now, with his mother and Cdr. Jackson....Mr. President? What do
you think of your new prosthesis?”
“...Well,”
Lee grinned, “it sure is nice to have peripheral vision again, even if some of it’s digital...but I’ll get used to it again...”
“...I
still think you should have insisted they get the color right,” Mrs. C. said.
“...Ahh, gee, Mom,
one would think you don’t like me looking like a zombie,” he joked, his cough
interrupting, “Actually, I think the color’s not too bad...it’s a kind of hazel
anyway.”
“...The
green’s okay, but the brown highlights look orange to me!”
“...Best
they could do with this model, besides, wouldn’t you rather I not be blind in
one eye? I can see out of both of them again...if limited.”
“...I
still think they can make you a better one.”
“...Mr.
President?” the reporter changed the hot topic between the two, “why have you
agreed to a game of paint ball? Isn’t that sending a bad message to our youth
about assault weapons, even if pretend?”
“...It’s
just practice and paint,” Lee said, his cough interrupting. “And it’s part of a Seal exercise. I’d like to keep my hand in.”
“...You’re
thinking of returning to the Navy once your term of office is over?”
“...I
don’t think I’d be allowed to. But I’d still like to stay on the roster of on
calls and,” he stopped suddenly, coughing. “Sorry,” he said after it
settled, “I have a little irritation from dust, debris, and dog fur from
yesterday.”
I
made a point to check to see if Will received a medical report, but Mrs. C.
wasn’t complaining so that was a good sign that Lee was probably telling the
truth.
A Secret Service agent whispered something to
him.
“...Duty
calls,” he said and with Joe and Mrs. C. climbed into the limo with the agent
and was driven away, with the escort.
“You
think he was telling the truth, sir?” Kowalski asked as poured himself a fruit
punch, “about that cough?”
“Yes,
Ski, I do,” I said, keeping my little secret about threatening the president of
the United States with a visit from his most loyal hound, aka Riley.
And
so, here I am again, taking a break from working on my calculations and
beginning some tests to record today’s events so far, and trying to keep up
with Lee’s promise to the nation that I had almost completed my ‘formula’.
Cheech!
~***~