My
Journal
By
Harriman Nelson
~In
God We Trust~
14
Try
as I might, I was still having problems with my calculations last night, so I
went to bed with my theory unproven and hardly had a wink of sleep for worry
over them.
At
least I presented myself showered, shaved, and in uniform for breakfast this
morning. It was the first seating and as
usual, noisy and crowded. The wall monitor was tuned to five morning talk shows
of no interest whatsoever when Kowalski, who was still the owl watch’s duty Sparks, announced he was putting the White
House Press Office on the monitor....
“...Good
morning,” the press secretary said from the podium. “We’ll begin today’s
briefing by saying that the president came to no harm during yesterday’s SEAL
exercises....”
“...Don’t
you mean paint ball game?” the Fox reporter interrupted, laughing.
“...While
paintball has several applications, most are recreational. Indeed many ages enjoy
target practice, flag chasing, obstacle courses, and in the case of children, are
totally supervised. The Pee Wee players, aged five to nine can only participate
in lower impact games. Adult games are, of course, more demanding.
“...The
paint ball application the president participated in with NCIS, was one of the
military applications, far more sophisticated in both tactics simulating combat
situations, and utilizing heavier and accurately modeled equipment. As I was going
to say before being interrupted, was that the president’s team, one of five,
came in second. A limited number of photographs of the teams with the
president, including his own, will be available free of charge in the White
House gift shop, donations are welcome of course, and will benefit the VA, the
CDC, and the Dept. of Children’s Services...”
“...Was
losing the exercise due to his new prosthesis?” Fox asked. “We all know it’s
not 100% and never will be. Why was he allowed to participate in a military exercise
when any sailor, soldier, or airman with such decreased and partially pixilated
vision like his would have been medically discharged.
Seems the commander in chief is abusing his privileges.”
“...Why
don’t you take that up with the Secretary of Defense?”
“...Yeah,”
CNN said, “haven’t you ever heard of The Six Million
Dollar Man? Cheech.”
“...He’s
still considered handicapped.”
“...Let’s
continue? Today’s scheduled visit to the National Archives has been postponed
until next week. But the president’s visit to the Maryland chapter of the
children’s Pee Wee paint ball exhibition has not been postponed. The president
will hand out prizes and vouchers for Happy Meals at McDonalds for the Pee Wee’s and vouchers for Pizza Hut to the older kid’s teams,
which will also be in attendance. ”
“...The
government’s paying for this?”
“...The
president is paying the bill out of his private funds.”
“...Has
the president’s cough gotten better? What if he’s contagious? Not a good idea
to pass whatever he has on to children.”
“...He
was seen by the Surgeon General and is not contagious. He is, however,
suffering from irritation to his trachea respiratory system due to the
inhalation of dust and debris from yesterday. Medically it’s not considered any
more serious than Smoker’s or First Responder’s Cough.”
“...The
president said Admiral Nelson has almost completed his anti-radiation system to
make enemy nuclear warheads obsolete. Any word on just when Nelson’s invention
will be ready for action?”
“...I’m
sorry, I haven’t been given an estimate.”
“...What’s
going on with that blog of Ronald Nelson?” Fox asked. “It’s down, but he can’t
be held responsible for terrorist activities.”
“...You’d
have to take that up with the Justice Dept.”
“...What
does Admiral Nelson think of Ronald’s blog?”
“...You’d
have to take that up with the admiral. I can say there’s no love lost between
them, especially since Ronald Nelson tried to execute the admiral, the
president, and several others, and maimed them all. At least Ronald and his
mother are safely incarcerated in federal prisons where their access to the
internet has been removed.”
“...What
about their rights? Other prisoners have access....”
“...Take
that up with the Justice Dept. and Homeland Defense...that’s all for now....”
As
the reporters gathered their belongings and left shortly after the press
secretary, leaving the room bare except for the public access folks, a slight
breeze caught the flag behind and to the side of the podium. Probably from the
open doors leading from the room to the rest of the West Wing. But then it
happened. The portable flagpole fell over, Old Glory in a heap.
“...Think
we ought to go put it back up?” a voice from behind the camera asked.
“...Nah.
Leave it for maintenance. Might be broken....”
The
broadcast went dead, leaving the Public Broadcasting System logo on the screen.
“Morning,
sir,” Chip said upon entering. “You okay?”
“See
the broadcast?”
“Yes,
not much to it.”
“I
mean the end of it, when everyone had gone.”
“No,
was on my way here.”
“The
flag fell, or rather the flagpole...and damn it, the TV guys didn’t even try to
go pull it up...afraid they’d break it. Call me superstitious, Chip, but
leaving the symbol of our nation crumpled in a heap on the floor like that?
Does not bode well.”
“It’s
not like you to believe in superstition.”
“I
know it’s not. But when it fell, I felt chills up and down my spine.”
“Just
the air conditioning system...we’re doing tests.”
“Admiral
Nelson?” Sparks called over the PA. “Call for you from the White House. Cdr.
Jackson. Not secure.”
“Pipe
it through to the Wardroom.”
Sparks
did as he was told and the Oval Office came into view. Lee wasn’t there, but
Jackson was, in front of the Resolute desk, sorting
through papers on the desk, stacking them into various piles.
“Joseph?”
I asked.
“Ah,
there you are, thanks,” he said, turning the president’s videophone around. “Do
you have any idea what an addlepated independent SOB Lee can be at times?”
The
men in the Wardroom gasped. This was their former skipper he was talking
about...and the president of the United States.
“Joe?”
Lee’s voice cracked, hoarse, “Where’s my Fisherman’s Friend?”
“Don’t
tell my you’ve gone through them all already? They may be OTC’s but you can
make yourself sick if you overdose on them.”
The
sound of coughing responded.
“Supposed
to be some extra in the top drawer. Bring them here, will you?”
“You
have legs.”
“I’m
busy!” he whined.
“Not
with a matter of state.”
“Well,
it will be if I don’t get my new eyeball from Winston.”
“What?
Damn it Lee! Why didn’t you tell me it was your eyeball he was playing with?”
Joe said and disappeared
“It
wasn’t!” Lee croaked and coughed. “But it fell out and he grabbed it.”
“They
swore the new socket was fitted correctly and that the eyeball was perfectly
sized.”
“They
were...I...”more coughs, “My goggles kind of fell down yesterday...before I
could pull them back up, the yellow paint
ball team got me, right on top of my new eyeball....I had to withdraw from the
game to go clean the eyeball up in the restroom...seemed okay then. But a
couple of minutes ago plop, the damn eyeball fell out, and,” a pause to cough
again, “and before I could pick it up Winston grabbed it and he’s been rolling
it around on the floor...help me grab it before he nabs it again?”
“I’ll
be right back, Admiral!” Joe called out.
“Harry’s
on the line?” Lee wailed.
“Yes,
Lee,” I said calmly. “Take your time. And I expect you to call the Surgeon
General to check both socket and eyeball.”
“Can’t.”
“I
can tell your mother.”
“I
can’t tell the Surgeon General...Joe?”
“Sorry,
Admiral,” Joe said reappearing in front of the videophone. “We’ll have to make
it another call. How about after we get the eyeball, clean it up, and put it
back in the socket, with a message to Bethesda for somebody to come out.”
“Very
well, but...”
“Got
it, Joe!” Lee’s voice called out victoriously.
“I’ll
be right there...have to go, Admiral. Expect a call shortly...better make it a
secure line.”
He
clicked the videophone off before I could object or ask why.
As
I stared at the blank monitor, no one said anything.
“Lee’s
Mom is going to kill him,” Chip said.
“She’ll
have to wait in line after me...Chip...I have to wonder why they don’t want to
call the Surgeon General...what else are they trying to hide...”
“I
guess you’ll just have to ask when they call back.”
“If
they call back....”
***
“I’m
sorry, sir,” Chief Sharkey told me as the first of my experimental applications
failed.
“We’ll
figure it out,” I sighed, securing the Reactor Room and headed down the
companionway. “It’s almost lunch time, care to join me?”
“I
would, but I got to go over some celestial navigation test scores with him.”
“Of
course...how’s he doing?”
“Not
too good, sir...you think it was a good idea for him to sign up for NROTC?”
“Not
for us to say...but Lee thought he’d make a good officer...let’s see how things
go,” I added as I turned the corner and headed to the Wardroom without him.
“Admiral?”
Sparks called over the PA. “Videophone call for you from the White House.
Secure.”
It
had been a few hours but I was still surprised the call back came so soon,
“I’ll
take it in my cabin. I’ll be right there.”
“Aye,
sir, by the way, can you tell the skipper, er, the
president how much we miss him?”
“He’s
known that quite a while, Sparks, but I’ll pass along the message.”
***
Two
retina scans and ten fingerprints later, my videophone switched from standard
to secure mode and the Oval Office came into view. Fog had come into DC, but
the light from the windows behind the Resolute desk
was bright enough for Lee not to have turned on the green ‘banker’s light’. His
head was bent, and was studying a report.
“Lee,
he’s on,” Joe said, “make it short.”
“Pick,
pick, pick,” Lee said, looking up, his eyeball in place. “Anyone would think
you’re my mother.”
“If
the shoe fits. Morning again, Admiral.”
“Joseph.
Now, boys, just what was it you couldn’t tell me over a non- secure line
regarding the Surgeon General?”
“He’d
have examined the eye...done a forensic on it...couldn’t let him...Harry, it’s got gadgets. Only Admiral Cartwright, Admiral Johnson,
Dr. Wittlebauer, who made it, Joe, me, and now you
know.”
“And
just why does the president of the United States needs an eyeball with X-ray
vision, laser beam metal cutters, night vision and an entire slew of such
gadgets from James Bond’s bag of tricks?”
Lee
just smirked.
“Oh
gawd,” I moaned.
“And
no,” Joe said, “he didn’t utilize any of them in the paint ball exercise.”
“Good
to know he wasn’t cheating with his Superman type skills.”
“X-ray
vision wouldn’t have helped one iota in the games,” Lee said, “or any of its
other features...but you can understand our concerns over the eyeball when
Winston took charge of it.”
“Don’t
worry, Dr. Wittlebauer is still in Washington, and
was able to come over and examine it for any damage. And he tightened the
prongs on both the socket and eyeball.”
“I
trust the eyeball was also sterilized before you put it back in?”
“Yes,
Mother. Now, was there anything else you wanted to know? That I can tell you
about, that is?”
“Well,
I know you haven’t exactly given up on diplomatic venues to stop the war?”
“No,
but I’d rather just have your anti-radiation system in place...how long will it
take?”
“Still
working on it, first test in the reactor room failed. By the way, you didn’t
have to tell everyone I was actually working on something...”
“But
you were.”
“Only
for you, you idiot. I wanted to present you with a completed project, not just
an idea I had.”
“Oh.”
“Told
you not to jump the gun, bro,” Joe told him.
“Lee,
sweetheart?” Mrs. C.’s voice preceded her as she entered the office. “Oh,
sorry, didn’t know you were busy...”
“Afternoon,
Mrs. Crane,” I said.
“Harriman...sorry
to interrupt, but Lee, the limo’s waiting to take you to the games. And don’t
try to wheedle yourself into them.”
“Who,
me?” Lee mocked, but with his sunshine smile that could make an iceberg melt.
“Sorry,
Harry...duty calls...sure wish it were aboard Seaview.”
“Oh,
I’m supposed to give you a message, the crew misses you.”
“Damn.
I sure miss everyone too,” Lee sighed. “Tell them that, and give my best girl a
pat.”
“Affirmative.
At least you’re not making me kiss her bulkhead.”
“Er...well....”
“The
things I do for you...”
“Thanks,
Harry. JCML out.”
The
screen went back black and the videophone powered off.
I
couldn’t help smiling as I returned to the Wardroom, even though I wasn’t happy
about Lee’s ONI sanctioned digital spy eye.
I
picked up the wall mike.
“Attention
all hands, this is the admiral. The president has received your message and
wants me to tell you that he misses all of you as well. And now, I have a
little matter to attend to,” I added as I patted the bulkhead. “That’s a pat I
just gave Seaview at the request of the president. And now...”I added, taking a
breath, and gave that same bulkhead a noisy and embarrassed smooch, “and now,
you’re all witnesses that I’ve also followed the presidential directive and
kissed the bulkhead. That is all.”
A
round of applause followed as I poured myself some coffee and tried to figure
out how I would ever live kissing Seaview down. Oh, I’d patted her now and then
for Lee, but kiss her? Well, it wasn’t that bad, though I doubted she ever felt
so cold to his lips.
***
“Excuse
me, sir, Ski told me a few hours later as I was reworking some of my
calculations in my open lab. “Chief Sharkey put me ‘go-fer’ watch for you.”
“Can’t
say I need you...but, take a seat.”
“Aye
sir.”
Just
then Riley leaned heavily on the door frame.
“Admiral?
I gotta’ turn myself into Sick Bay. Couldn’t find
Capt. Morton or Mr. O’Brien and you were closer than the chief....”
“What’s
wrong?” I asked, immediately concerned. The boy was pale, and looked ready to
pass out.
“I....I’m
seein’ things....”
“Seeing
things?” Ski snorted.
“Go
on, Lad,” I told Riley.
“It
was a couple of minutes ago. I was passing corridor B-8 when I saw...like, I
know I’ve gone off my rocker, but...I saw the skipper. I mean the president,
patting the bulkhead...I thought I was dreaming, you know, like, all that talk
earlier on the PA, but I could swear it was him, he grinned at me, and
then...then he was gone. Like he vanished into thin air and....”
“Attention
all hands!” Sparks shouted over the PA. “The president’s been shot! Repeat,
President Nelson-Crane’s been shot!”
The
next thing I knew Ski was trying to rouse me from the floor. My nightmare
flashed before my eyes. The flag draped coffin...Lee’s three of four rings...oh
God, oh God, oh God. Just like Lincoln’s premonition, mine had been a ‘true’
dream after all. I began to vomit, and Doc was summoned. I don’t remember much
after that as I was having a hard time seeing reality before me, and the images
of my dream overlaying them, only now mixed in with that last sunshine smile
and smirk of Lee’s, and the fog in the windows, and the fallen flag from the
press conference.
“Attention
all hands, we have the White House Press Secretary....”Chip said over the PA
and the monitor came to life.
The
flagpole was no longer there, nor the flag. The press secretary walked to the
podium in the crowded room.
“...Ladies
and gentlemen, as you know by now, the president was shot a short time ago at
point blank range into the chest and is in ICU at Walter Reed. He is still
unconscious and bleeding profusely. The culprit is a juvenile about twelve or
so, who has been taken into custody. It is rumored the boy is as confused as to
why the president fell, and told his friends he thought the president would
like a close up and personal paint ball demo. The boy’s mother, in tears,
claims her son had Down Syndrome and that her son
could not have known it was a real gun.
“...We
have some private videos that were relayed to us,.”
she added, and turned on the screen behind her....
The
fog had lifted, and Lee, accompanied by his mother, in a Robin blue dress, and
Joe, in his khaki’s with gold braid, had just congratulated the teams, when the
shot fired out.
At
first it was believed to be an errant paint ball from an over active child, but
then Lee’s look of confusion, and sudden collapse, the blood spreading from
under what could be seen of his shirt under his jacket. Mrs. C. screamed, and
tried to cradle Lee in her arms, uncaring of his blood oozing onto her hands
and clothes. Joe, kneeling, hovered over
Lee, checking his unseeing eyes, real and digital, and pulse followed by
pressing his hands over the wound trying to staunch the blood.
All
hell broke out. Cries of anguish, screams of terror, and a general panic was
not easily quelled by police, marines, and the men in black. The boy was taken
in cuffs by police out of the outdoor stadium, his mother at his side, wailing
that he wasn’t responsible. Other police helped to move the sobbing players and
spectators on the field to the sides, for Marine One to land.
Not
an Evac helicopter, it still always had a doctor on duty along with medical
supplies should something catastrophic happen to the president. And so it had.
Not waiting for the rotors to stop, the doctor and marines dragged a gurney
down the slowly opening ramp and jumped off before it was even level, then
rushed with it toward Lee.
A
quick briefing by Joe and the doctor then inserted an IV of what might have
been plasma then reached into his bag and fixed a syringe of something,
injecting it smack into Lee’s chest, a bit to the left.
“...Oh
God,” a reporter screamed, “isn’t that where his heart
is supposed to be?”
“...We
don’t have the details,” the press secretary said as the videos played on, now
showing Lee being placed on a gurney, one of his arms dropping limply over the
side, and his eyes open but not seeing, or if they were, not responding to the
doctor’s and Joe’s commands. Joe took charge of Lee’s hysterical mother,
escorting her to the helicopter with the patient. It was in the air in seconds
as more police arrived, along with busses, to take everyone in tow for questioning.
“...I’m
afraid that’s all we have. I can tell you it looks like the shooting was an
isolated incident...the Vice President has taken charge of all presidential
duties...he will address the nation as more information becomes available.”
“All hands,” Chip said over the mike, “General
Quarters. This would be an ideal time for the PR Alliance to attack. And damn
it, come hell or high water, we’re going to be ready.”
“Seaview’s
always ready, Lad. Where do you want me?”
“In
Washington with Lee, but I’m afraid I need you here to keep working on that
anti-radiation formula.”
“Yes,
Captain,” I said formally, though my heart was broken. So much so, I wasn’t
sure I could even think properly. I’ve had to put duty first numerous times,
but good God, this was the hardest. Should I even bother to pray for my boy? If
this was meant to be, what good would it do? When your number’s up, your number’s up, so my grandmother always said. And if not, was
it already too late? I had to wonder about Riley’s seeing Lee aboard...at the
same time he was shot...was the press simply giving us something to hold on to
before the Vice President could put a few things in order?
Was Lee already dead and Riley’s hallucination an angelic or ghostly visit?
“Sir?
You okay,” Ski, his eyes brimming with tears, asked me as I suddenly realized I
had fallen to my knees, sobbing.
I
was unable to speak.
“There’s
no shame in crying for him, sir. My mother, well, she said grief and tears are
the price we pay for love. And we all love him, sir. I’d trade my life for his
in a heartbeat. I know we all would. Especially you, sir...”
“I
don’t think Lee would want anyone to do that, Ski, let’s just do our jobs the
best we can and leave him to the care of the Almighty.” I lost it then...it was
a phrase Old Abe said leaving Springfield for Washington, not knowing if he’d
ever come back.
“Doc?
Can you come to the Wardroom?” Ski said gently into the wall mike with one hand
while trying to help me off the deck where I was prostrate, wailing Lee’s name,
over and over and over....
~***~