My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

~In God We Trust~

24

It was a new day, and like all new days, full of hope and optimism. Soon however, both had been flushed away with the reality of the increasingly dire outlook that I might never succeed with my anti-radiation formulations.

It didn’t help when the president called via the videophone from the Oval Office without any security measures. He didn’t even wait for me to take the call in private, so, it was a bit awkward speaking to him in my anti-radiation gear via the Reactor Room’s monitor, though Ski and Riley, also in protective gear, tried to make themselves scarce, ‘tried’ being the operative word.

“What can I do for you, Mr. President,” I said, my breath fogging up behind the plastic head shield.

“You can tell me why your damn anti-radiation formula is taking so long!”

“Because the tests so far have proven negative....”

“Well, hurry it up! Bad enough that I have to listen to the press oohing and ahhing over Mrs. Crane and her brat of a son. Leave it to the press to focus on a wrinkled old crone and overgrown Boy Scout. It was just a community dinner last night, for God’s sake, not the Second Coming!”

“Overgrown Boy Scout?” Riley interrupted, furious.

“Not you two again!”

“We’re helping the admiral with his experiments,” Ski said for them both.

“Well, go away! Both of you. I wasn’t speaking to you.”

I nodded to the men to depart which took a few moments as they had to divest themselves of their gear in an ante chamber before leaving the highly radioactive room.

“You were saying, sir?” I finally asked after I was alone.

“My advisors tell me there’s reason to believe that the alliance is going to strike again soon, and that they may have figured out our current missile repellant software. I want that anti-radiation formula ready to apply to all of our weaponry before their missiles and planes come out of the sky to attack us again! Get it done today, or I’ll remove you and get some other egghead to do it!”

“This is my experiment!”

“That’s it! I’m done with you! Fax your notes to the DOD. You’re removed from the active reserves, as is Seaview. Morton will remain on active reserve duty to get your damn sub to the nearest Navy yard to have the Seaview’s missiles and torpedoes removed. Then he’ll be reassigned to a real Navy sub.”

With that he ended the call.

To say I was rather flabbergasted was an understatement. I barely managed to announce my and Seaview’s change of status to the crew over the PA.

“But,” Chip asked, “you’re still going to work on the experiment, right?”

“Darn right I are!”

“You’re orders, Captain,” we all heard Sparks say.

“What orders?” Chip lied, “Damn it, our communications systems are down. So is the fax.”

“Chip, Lad, I know what you’re trying to do, but perhaps getting someone else to work on the anti-radiation formulation is for the best .... “

“Not on my watch, sir. O’Brien, set a course toward the nearest US Navy base, we have not choice about that....”

Ski and Riley gingerly re-entered the Reactor Room and were about to pull on their gear when I waylaid them.

“Go get some lunch,” I told them. “It’s going to be Cookie’s version of that New England Boiled Dinner in honor of the skipper.”

“Is it any good, sir?” Riley asked.

“Depends. My grandmother fixed it with beef, carrots, cabbage, rutabaga, and onions boiled in beef broth. But what made the meal for me was her soft doughy dumplings on top. Can’t say what Cookie’s version will be. Depends on the pantry.

“As long as it’s not Spam Boiled Dinner,” Ski said.

“Now, now....we owe it to Cookie to be appreciative of his efforts.”

They laughed and headed out, while I divested myself of my gear, and finally departed the Reactor Room and walked the empty companionway toward the Wardroom.

***

Joining Jiggs and Chip in the Wardroom, I was to see that Spam wasn’t substituted from the dried beef, which had been soaked overnight. Canned and frozen vegetables were rather mushy, but the home made dumplings were almost smack on what they should be.

The duty sparks replayed some of last night’s news on the community dinner Lee had attended last night. It had been a casual affair and crowded with townsfolk and press. The metal fold out chairs looked rather painful to me, and the fold out twelve foot wooden tables looked worn, with scrawls inked on them from several generations. The crockery and cutlery were mixture of paper and plastic, and the napkins those flimsy little paper ones. Aluminum platters and bowls held the boiled meat, vegetables, and dumplings. There were also dinner rolls in plastic bags to keep them soft and fresh for whoever wanted them.

Tubs of ice cream, augmented by dishes of sprinkles and squirt bottles of strawberry and chocolate syrup, along with several home-made and bakery decorated cakes graced the dessert table with carafes of coffee.

It was for certain nobody went home hungry.

While there was no main table, and no apparent seating chart, there was a huge ‘Welcome Home Lee’ banner on the wall, actually a sheet, decorated by crayon and marker with extra notes from children and adults. Indeed, the town’s inhabitants were proud of their native son, especially the older folks who kept stopping by Lee to ruffle his hair, much to Joe’s amusement.

Then the recaps stopped and reverted to talk and game shows that Sparks remotely turned off.

“Videophone call for you, Admiral,” Sparks said over the PA. “Cdr. Jackson, says he needs to talk to you asap, not secure, wherever you are.”

“Pipe it through to the Wardroom.”

The image of a disheveled Joe from Lee’s bedroom videophone came into focus with the sound of Mrs. C.’s crying in the background.

“Admiral, we got a problem,” Joe said, hesitating...“Lee’s been arrested.”

“Arrested?” Jiggs asked, incredulous.

“They won’t even let him post bail...not that he or I could.”

“What the hell happened?” I demanded.

“I don’t know all the details...it was due to something Mrs. C. mentioned that she’d seen online this morning. Before I knew what was going on, Lee had dashed out of the cottage like a bat out of hell, hitched a ride with one of the motorcycle cops standing guard on the beach access road, rode to the airfield, took off in our rented Cessna and the next thing I knew I got his constitutionally guaranteed phone call from a Washington police station! He said not to worry, but for me to take care of you and his mother. Admiral, from the little I’ve been able to gather by the chief of police, he was arrested for what Sisemen called an attempted assault on him. I’m heading out right now by commercial flight...”

“Breaking news,” Sparks interrupted over the PA and the monitor revealed went to CNN’s anchor desk. Joe had already ended his call.

“...Former President Nelson-Crane landed his rented Cessna on Rock Creek Golf Course, where the president was at the 18th hole. At first the FAA thought it was an emergency landing, as it was over the no fly zone and there had been no radio contact.

“...Most camera video’s taken by putters a bit further down the green have been confiscated by the Secret Service though we have first-hand interviews with some of the golfers at the time.”

“...The plane had barely stopped when he jumped from the plane,” one of the golfers told the reporter.

“...He was shouting and waving his arms about,” another putter said, “running toward the president, and he even pushed one of the Secret Service agents to the ground before he as he was stopped about two feet from the president. Couldn’t hear what both were yelling at each other, but then...well, Nelson-Crane lunged toward him.”

“...He did not!” another golfer said, “his foot caught in a rut and the momentum pushed him toward Sisemen.”

“...Well, the Secret Service sure took him away in a hurry. Cuffs and everything. Even had a police escort.”

“...In any case,” the anchor said, the White House Press Secretary has reported that the president has filed assault charges and Nelson-Crane. It seems inconceivable that a former president, beloved by most of the population for his integrity, would threaten the incumbent. “...The president continued with his last stroke without a word then he, the First Lady, and their guests returned to the White House. The Cessna was towed to Andrews Air Force Base as federal evidence.”

“...Some videos taken by the golfers have just appeared on social media, uploaded prior to their confiscation. Here’s one.There’s the Cessna...a bumpy landing...but no one in harm’s way. Nelson-Crane indeed jumping out onto the green. No audio...he’ seems furious, running, shouting toward the presidential party.

“...Another video shows him pushing a Secret Service agent before he’s caught by several Secret Service agents, still engaged in a shouting match with the president. Again, no audio. This is a zoomed video so audio was loud enough to record.

“...Ah, this is the crux of the incident. Impossible to tell from this vantage if that was a lunge toward the president or a trip.”

“...We’ve just been informed that Nelson-Crane will be arraigned shortly and have been granted permission to view the proceedings at district court due to the Freedom of Information Act....”

The scene changed to Hearing Room A. One of the morning’s accused had just been bailed out of whatever he’d done to await trial and led away.

“...Case DC 007,” the clerk said and Lee was brought in from a side door with a guard. Lee was cuffed, disheveled, garbed in an orange jumpsuit, minus his rings and watch. Even his eye, prosthesis or glass, unknown, had been removed, along with his eyepatch. A bit ghoulish if one wasn’t used to it.

“...Mr. President?” the judge asked, reading the report. The ticker on the bottom of the screen revealed her name as Judge Anna Mayberry.

“...Just Lee. Lee Nelson-Crane, your honor.”

“...Where is your counsel?” she asked as only a cop was at his side.

“...The case is cut and dry,” a man in black said from the table opposite, “I’m Agent Conway, Director of the US Secret Service. Mr. Nelson-Crane is accused of attempted assault upon the president of the United States.”

“...You were read your rights?” the judge asked Lee.

“...Yes, your honor.”

“...You do realize that if you can’t afford a lawyer, a public defender can be assigned. Even I know you’re strapped for cash.”

“...Let’s not waste time or tax payer money. I can’t plead guilty and I can’t plead not guilty, because I certainly wanted to punch Sisemen’s lights out, but I’m not sure what I would have done if I hadn’t been nudged into that rut.”

“...You were nudged? Mr. Conway, you Secret Service agents have shoulder cams, don’t you, that could shed some light on the situation? Let’s get the facts straight before we continue so Mr. Nelson-Crane can make a legitimate plea. Mr. Nelson-Crane’s arraignment will be postponed until you prove or disprove if he was nudged into the rut or took a step toward the president and then tripped.”

“Look, your honor,” Lee said. “Let’s not waste time or taxpayer money. Isn’t there any other plea I can make than guilty or not guilty? Just undecided?”

“There is only a ‘no contest’ plea. However, I must advise against it. It precludes you from defending yourself if found guilty by preponderance of evidence. I realize this is only an arraignment, and not a trial, but is there anything you’d like to explain, such as why you were upset with the president? Understanding that anything you say would be without counsel, and that you’d waive your rights without it”

“It’s a private matter, your honor.”

“It’s going to come out anyway, isn’t it?” someone in the crowd shouted.

“Order in the court!” the judge said, banging her gavel. “You may continue Mr. Nelson-Crane, if you wish, if the matter isn’t top secret or classified or something.”

Lee lowered his eyes then looked up.

“Very well, your honor. My mother had seen a post online and had begun to cry. Apparently whoever posted the article she saw claimed it was from information originally submitted to friends from Seaview.”

Gasps.

“The president called Seaview and had words with Harry Nelson. About him, and about my mother. Nobody insults my mother and Harry like that and gets away with it. That’s why it’s a private matter. I wanted an apology from Sisemen and right then. The only way was to get to Washington and meet with him up close and personal without all the usual red tape was to fly there. I used the Cessna Joe and I had which was still on the rental agreement. I challenged the no fly zone and landed on the golf course where the president was playing. I got out, yelling and waving my arms about as I ran toward him. I was held fast by the agents as Sisemen and I yelled at each other. But instead of apologizing for what he’d said, he made even more insults, profane ones this time, against my mother, Harry, my friends, and my boat.
That’s when the agent holding my left arm nudged me, either to get me to clam up or to get a better hand hold. Anyway, I tripped forward. But as I’ve said, I don’t know if I would actually have attacked him if I’d hadn’t been secured. The Good Book says if you think something it’s as bad as acting on it. At least that’s what I think it says. So I guess I’d have to say I’m guilty in His eyes. I just couldn’t forgive Sisemen, I still can’t, God forgive me, but I can’t.”

“...The law won’t allow for a plea based on religious conscious. Only the facts.”

Just then the clerk said something to the judge, and the First Lady entered.

“Madam First Lady?”

“...I’m sorry to interrupt, your honor, however, I believe you may find my video recording helpful to determine intent...if you don’t mind muting it before the Secret Service obtains their shoulder cams. I’m afraid it doesn’t have any audio. But I can tell you that I believe Mr. Nelson-Crane was quite justified in what he told my husband.”

She handed her phone to the judge, who assigned the clerk to make it appear on the large screen in the room.

It was from the presidential party’s point of view. Then the trip, an honest to God nudge and the resulting trip forward.

Just then another clerk approached the judge with a printout which she read quickly.

“...The president has dropped all charges, case dismissed,” she said banging her gavel.

As Lee’s handcuffs were unlocked and removed, the First Lady approached Lee.

“...I’m sorry, Lee. If it had been me I would have punched him in the nose for what I heard him call you and your loved ones...even the sub. I hope your mother will allow me to attend the lobster bake by way of apology, on my behalf, anyway.”

“...You’re always welcome, Madam First Lady.”

“...I’ll bring some corn chowder. Old family recipe....you be careful not to fall overboard Capt. Al’ Jr.s trawler or your friend’s flatboats.”

With that she gave Lee a peck on the cheek and departed once her phone was returned toward her from the clerk.

“...Oh gawd, I’m too late?” Joe breathlessly said as he ran into the hearing room, “How did you plead? Are you going to Leavenworth? Are you...”

“...Relax, er...” the judge began.

“...Jackson, Joe Jackson, your honor...he didn’t know what he was doing...he takes the blame for everything even if he’s not to blame and...”

“...Mr. Jackson, all charges have been dropped. He’s free to go.”

Lee whispered something to Joe.

“...There’s a commercial flight in an hour. The Cessna’s still impounded unless we can come up with some cash. My credit card’s maxed out as badly as yours. And we have to get the Cessna back to the Cape airfield by this afternoon....”

“...Here,” Agent Conway, who had just returned, said handing Lee a wad a cash. “Don’t consider it a government loan. Just a private donation from someone who finally saw the light. I won’t expect repayment. Mr. President.”

“...I’ll pay you back anyway, I promise.”

“...Be careful what you promise. There’ll be a motorcade waiting for you after you dress. Compliments of the Dept. And before you complain, consider it one of those ex presidential perks. We’ll take you to the impound lot to get your plane. Oh, and I hope you remember to stick your eyeball back in or at least wear an eyepatch. You look like a zombie.”
“...Remind me of that come Halloween.”

Laughter as the live feed ended and reformed outside the courthouse.

“...It remains to be seen,” a CNN reporter was saying, “just what those insults to Mrs. Crane and Harriman Nelson were. The First Lady, who has just left, refused to mention them. Needless to say, the former president’s popularity has skyrocketed. ‘A dutiful’ son’, ‘Avenging Angel’ are only two of the complimentary quotes that have been coming in to our comments page, and to social media.

“...We are still waiting for AMA report on his private MRI which will determine if he can return to office, especially now that he’s been cleared of committing a felony. And now, in other news....”

“Leave it on,” I quickly ordered Sparks via the mike, before he could turn the broadcast off, though he did pipe through several replays.

“Cookie?” I called out toward the Wardroom’s ‘tween through’, “How about some cookies and brownies. In honor of our errant yet vindicated skipper?”

“Yes sir!”

“One day,” Jiggs says, “somebody needs to write a book about him. Just one problem.”

“Yes, how to categorize it, fiction, non-fiction, or fan-fiction!”

***

I was in the lab with Jiggs, Riley, and Ski, when there was the breaking news we expected. The Cessna was being hauled on the top rack of an automobile carrier on the interstate. Using the right side lane reserved for slower or extra wide vehicles, it was preceded and followed by shiny black vans.

“...It’s a bit unusual for an airplane to be on the interstate, however this one is on its way to Ronald Regan Washington Airport where it will be flown to Cape Cod. In the van leading are former President Nelson-Crane and Mr. Joe Jackson. We’ll bring you more when they gas up and file their flight plan. Ah, there’s the exit...”

Soon we saw the entrance to the small craft airport, and the carrier turning into the area reserved for loading and unloading small and commuter airplanes to hangars and the parking tarmac.

“...Secret Service Agent Conway is out of the first van and opening the door for his famous passengers, handshakes following their exit. They’re watching the Cessna being unloaded and towed by an airport industrial tow truck to the tarmac. A wave goodbye and the two men head toward the main office.

“He sure looks a lot better,” Jiggs said of Lee, now dressed, and accessorized with his rings and eyepatch.

“Looks a bit drawn to me, sir,” Riley said. “I really am sorry about that email I sent to my family, sir. You think, like, the skipper knows it was my fault? That Mrs. C. saw what my sister posted all over the internet?”

“Of course he knows,” Ski said, writing up the latest results of one of today’s experiments on a clipboard.

“Don’t worry, Lad,” I said, “if you were in trouble with him he would have contacted us.”

“Well,” Riley began, noticeably relieved but Sparks interrupted over the PA.

“Admiral Nelson, call for you...it’s the skipper. Not secure. Audio only.”

“Oh gawd, I’m in deep shit,” Riley said.

“Pipe it through to Lab B’s speaker,” I said into the mike.

“Harry?” Lee’s voice came through. “How the hell did a conversation with the president get emailed off boat!”

“My fault, Skipper,” Riley said. “I’m so sorry. But his call wasn’t private or secure. He started to yak right away and....”

“That’s true, Lee,” I said.

“Very, well, we’ll let it go this time but never again will any crewmember call or email home without permission to do so, understood?”

“Yes, sir, Skipper. It will never happen again.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Riley. That internet post making my mother cry.”

“I really am sorry.”

“I’d like to speak with the admiral now....”

“I’m pretty sure he means me,” I told my companions. “I’ll let you know when you can rejoin me.”

“Of course, Harriman,” Jiggs said. “We’ll go see if there are any more brownies and cookies left.”

“Brownies? Cookies?” Lee asked. I could almost see his mouth watering.

“Yeah,” Ski said, “in honor of your incident today, sir.”

“For getting arrested?” Joe’s voive asked, “Gee, Lee, and here I thought you only got rewards for being a good boy, not a jail bird.”

“I was acquitted, remember.”

“Not by your mom...you’re still a bad boy in her books.”

“Just for leaving the house without saying goodbye or telling her where I was going...go check to see how long it will take to gas up the plane.”

“You just want to check on Harry in private.”

“That too, now scram.”

“Pick, pick, pick...”

“You sound more and more like Lee,” I said. “But we could use a little privacy.”

“No sweat,” Joe said and we could hear footsteps and a door open and close.

Jiggs closed the hatch behind himself and the crewmen.

“We’re alone now, son,” I said. “You okay?”

“Adrenaline’s still a bit high. But don’t worry. Joe’s taking the stick.”

“I think his adrenaline may be a bit high as well. So, tell me, what on earth possessed you to do anything so rash?”

“Brain damage?” he laughed. “You know they’re going to use my flying off the handle like that as proof despite what the AMA may say.”

“Then tell me just what additional insults the president had for your mother and me on golf course?”

“Rather not.”

“Very well, I won’t force you.”

“Thanks...by the way, don’t let what he said about removing you from the project stop you.”

“Never did stop. By the way, he’s expecting Seaview to release her weaponry at the nearest US naval base.”

“Yes, I got the news from my resources. Gee, your communications have been bad lately,” he laughed.

“Unfortunately son, I can’t report much progress with the experiments.”

“How about pressurizing the formula? Test that out using the Flying Sub’s laser firing on one of our missiles? Just make sure whoever’s piloting FS-1 puts some distance between them. Harry, it’s awful important to get the formation up and running. Our Intel says their technology is almost matched up to our intercept repellant software.”

“Absolutely. But tell me, how do you know, being out of the loop?”

“I have my sources,” Lee smirked.

~***~

Chapter Twenty Five