My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

~In God We Trust~

5

Supper was a dismal affair. Not that the food was inedible, but everyone’s adrenaline was still uncomfortably high.

If it had been a drill, we’d have aced the time for our responsiveness. Our Fail Safe stations were manned and ready in record time. All hands reported battle ready as we waited. And waited for the ‘Stand By’ sign on the Fail Safe unit’s to change and tell us to fire missiles or cancel. As the clock ticked by all we could do was as it ordered. Stand by. Stand by. Stand by.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Chip had already pulled the sealed launch coordinates envelope specific for Seaview from the locked drawer under the plot table, and now it lay on top of it , waiting to be opened. Waiting for Doomsday.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

I couldn’t remember how many drills we’d had in Seaview’s career as a Reserve missile carrier, and some actual Fail Save emergencies. So far, thank God, cancelled or de-sabotaged.

Was this one of those? There was certainly a possibility.

The ‘stand by’ signs on the units suddenly shut off and their ‘fire’ windows closed. I think Seaview herself, like the rest of us sighed in sheer relief. Whatever had happened it was over.

“Get ComSubPac-Operations!” Captain Morton ordered Sparks, wanting as much as I did, to get to the bottom of things. Had Fail Safe been hacked? Had we? “All hands,” he added, this time through the nearest mike, “remain on battle stations. Repeat, remain on battle stations.”

All departments reconfirmed that they were manned and ready.

“What’s taking so long?” Chip demanded of Sparks less than a minute later.

“Sorry, sir. I got our message out, but the response was automated. We’re in line.”

“Oh good grief! Before we know it technology will have taken over everything!”

“Why not ask the skipper?” Ski suggested, then suddenly turned red with embarrassment, “Sorry, Mr...Captain Morton, sir. I meant the president. ”

“Midshipman Kowalski!” Lt. O’Brien scolded. “Didn’t we go over protocols just a few hour ago in your tutorial? I’d have thought you were already well enough versed in them.”

“Sorry, sir. It’s just...well, we do kinda’ have an ‘in’ with him...”

“Has a point, Lt.,” I said. “Sparks? Get me the president. I don’t care if he’s in the situation room!”

“Aye, sir.”

“And Kowalski,” I added, “when you’re an officer you’ll be expected to use correct usage of English. It’s ‘kind of’ not kinda’.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, Admiral.”

“The White House switchboard,” Sparks called out, “says he’s unavailable. But there is a breaking news report about him.”

With that Sparks switched on the monitor...

“...We’re here outside the main gate to the naval hospital in Bethesda, Maryland,” the reporter was saying, “where President Nelson-Crane was admitted a few minutes ago. There has been no word yet as to what happened or what his condition is.”

“I wonder what they’ll say when they learn his kitty cat scratched and bit him,” Ski said.

“If that’s why he’s there,” Chip corrected. “Remember, Ski, don’t assume.”

“Aye, sir.”

But Ski knew, Sparks knew, Chip knew and I knew with about a 99% certainty, that was exactly why the president had been taken to the hospital.

“...Cdr. Jackson, one of the president’s advisors is approaching,” the reporter was saying.

“...He’s fine,” Joe said. “He’s being treated for wounds to his hands. The First Cat got a hold of his digital eyeball and didn’t want to give it back, enough said. As for eyeball, it will need to be evaluated for future use, repair, or if it needs to be scrapped and replaced.”

“..Isn’t this the second time the president’s digital eyeball has been absconded with and damaged by the president’s cat?”

“..Actually, the first time was aboard Seaview. It was one of the first optical prosthesis models and was damaged by the ship’s cat Maleficent.”

“...Why not get rid of the cats if they’re this much trouble?”

“...Well, it’s unlikely the president will be using the Seaview as a floating White House, besides I understand that Mallie has been seconded to the current captain’s parents’ home in Montana for the duration of the war alert. And the president has confirmed that new security measures will be taken regarding Sweetie’s and Winston’s access to either the president’s glass or digital eyeballs. Good thing Winston didn’t get the orb or he might have actually swallowed it.”

“...A repair or replacement doesn’t seem like something taxpayers should be responsible for.”

“...They weren’t for the president’s first replacement,” Joe said, irritated.
“...Why not just use a glass eye, like he did recently when his optic nerve got damaged again...”

“...He’s thinking about it, to help keep the surgically infused socket aligned properly for now.”

“...When should the president be released from the hospital?”

“...Your guess is as good as mine. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Joe said.

“...Can’t you just ask him why he’s wasting taxpayer’s money keeping all those vehicles running at the entrance while they’re simply waiting.”

“...Secret Service policy, not the president’s.”

“Bingo, Joe,” Chip said, pleased.

“ComSubPac-Operations on the phone for you, Captain,” Sparks called out, but not turning off the monitor. Chip picked up the console’s receiver while the broadcast showed the men in black exit the building, Lee being wheeled toward his limo. Apparently even a military hospital followed standard rules about preventing discharged patients from stumbling or falling on the way out.

“This is the Seaview,” Chip spoke into the phone, “yes, we called Operations. What the devil happened to Fail Safe? We were stuck on ‘stand by’ for...what? Oh. Um hm...successful intercept by the Chrysalis? Um hm...um hm. How the hell should I know? The president said that?”

Chip looked at me with a raised eyebrow, still holding the phone, though lowered to his side. “Admiral? Have you and your egghead scientist buddies been working on a top secret deterrent to neutralize radiation and toxins on enemy warheads that might fall on us?”

“What?”

My confusion took him by even more surprise and he returned the receiver to his ear.

“I’m back. Sorry, those pesky top secret projects have been taking up so much of the admiral’s time that he must have forgotten to inform us,” he lied . “No, I can’t reveal our orders. We wouldn’t be the president’s top sub, then, would we.”

Yes, Chip had certainly learned how to lie as effectively as Lee, at least in covert or military matters. The fact that we were not the president’s top sub didn’t preclude us from claiming it. And, after all, Seaview had been the top boat in our naval arsenal until just recently.

“Seaview out,” Chip finished his call.

“Well done, Lad,” I said. “But I would like to know why Lee didn’t include me in that scientific project of his...er, Kowalski, in wartime, sometimes deception is your best weapon. Who knows what spies may have been listening in. It has been a concern of the president and his top intelligence advisors.”

“I understand sir.”

Just then the broadcast zoomed in on the presidential party exiting the hospital and the noise from the crowd at the gate calling out to him. Lee, wearing a red, white, and blue eyepatch over his empty socket, his hands heavily bandaged, waved, and got into the limo, Joe at his side.

Soon the cortege headed away, probably to a less public access exit.

“President on the line for you, Admiral,” Sparks said, flipping the newscast on the monitor to a small screen to the interior view and audio of the limo on the larger screen.

“This is as clear as I can get the screen, Lee,” Joe said from his cellphone, “And stop scratching!”

“Pick, pick, pick...Harry? You’re not coming in too clearly....ComSubPac says you wanted to speak with me”

“Yes, er....”

“Why did our Fail Safe keep us on stand by forever,” Chip said,.

“And why didn’t you inform me about this little task force of yours to invent a neutralizing intercept,” I asked.

“There is no nuclear bio deterrent project,” Lee said, “not yet anyway,” he added, running one of his heavily bandaged hands through his hair. “A simple ruse of misinformation.... you can’t believe I wouldn’t have included you in such a project if there really had been one?”

Damn, I should have known. But Lee took my silence as bitterness.

“Sorry. Can I come out of the doghouse? As for Fail Safe. It worked fine. The Chrysalis brought down the bogeys. Two of them...she had the closest trajectory. And don’t you raise your eyebrow at me, Captain Morton. If you’d been closer to the target than the Borealis Group, Seaview would have been given the ‘Fire’ command.”

“It was stuck on Stand By forever!” Chip railed. “Operations could have at least closed the firing windows when it was clear we weren’t going to be assigned to use it!”

“Don’t you yell at him, Chip!” Joe fumed.

“Easy, Joe,” Lee said. “You’ll have to forgive him, Chipee. He’s had a bad day.... I’ll see what I can do with Operations to avoid any future problems. Kowalski there?”

“Right here, Skipper, er, I mean Mr. President,” Ski said from the Radio Shack. “ How are you doing, sir? We know Sweetie kind of got you bad....”

“Just some iodine and stiches,” Lee said.

“But, he won’t stop scratching,” Joe complained, “you’re a medical man, well, sort of. Tell him how dangerous that can be.”

“He’s right,” Ski said. “Not a good idea to scratch. I know your hands must itch like mad but they’ll heal a lot faster if you don’t irritate the broken skin.”

“I know all that,” Lee said, “but I think the doctors went a bit overboard. See thee mitts on me?” he added, showing off his heavily bandaged and wrapped hands.

“Your own fault!” Joe said.

“Will you just leave it?” Lee ordered.

“Yes, sir, Mr. President, sir.”

Lee rolled his eyes heavenward.

“What’s the status of the eyeball?” Chip asked.

“Damaged beyond repair,” Joe said. “It’s back to glass eyes until the manufacturer can fulfill the new order.”

“I’m sorry, son,” I said.

“But at least,” Joe said, “he can coordinate the iris colors a bit better this time.”

“For Pete’s Sake, Joe!” Lee fussed, rubbing his left hand. “I’d rather just wear a damn eyepatch.”

“You need to use a glass eye to keep the socket from shrinking into the tissues any further. And I think coordinating iris colors for a better match is a good idea...keep the vampires away. Or prevent you from looking like a zombie. You know that happens when flash bulbs get you a certain way.”

“Remind me why I keep you on my staff?”

“Brrrr.”

A bump in the road jiggled the image and Lee winced.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asked.

“You know damn well.”

“Your own fault your tailbone’s sore. He spends too much time at his desk,” Joe explained.

“Part of his job description, Joseph,” I said. “Well, looks like you’re approaching the turn off to D.C. Take care, Lee. Joe? Take good care of him.”

“Goes without saying, though I sure don’t get any thanks for it.”

“Will you just stop griping!”

“Hey, it’s like the Arctic in here now.”

“By the way,” Lee said, “Kowalski? How are you doing?”

“Just fine, Skipper, er, Mr. President. Except for longer or non-existent watches. Kind of hard to hold it, you know...sure don’t know how you managed not using the head when you really needed to.”

All laughed.

“DOD,” Joe told Lee, answering Lee’s cell phone’s beep. “Encrypted status.”

“I have to take this call, Harry,” Lee told me.

“Understood. Seaview out.”

“I know I was angry with him,” Chip said as the call ended and the small screen newscast reverted to full size with audio, “but I can’t help feeling sorry for him now.”

No one disagreed.

“...One has to wonder,” the reporter was saying as the press cameras continued to pan and follow the string of presidential vehicles, “how long the First Cat will be in the doghouse.”

“That’s not funny!” Ski said.

“Easy, Lad,” I said, “it is, sort of, maybe....”

“Well, I still don’t like it. She can’t help being a cat. And the skip...president’s not mad at her...”

“Yes, Kowalski,” Chip said, “we know. Now, let’s all return our attention to running the Seaview, shall we?”

‘Aye’s and ‘Yes sir’s echoed through the Control Room, while I headed aft to Lab B. While Lee hadn’t asked me to develop anything that could neutralize radiation or biohazards, I took the hint and began to rack my brain for something the scientific community was bound to believe I was working on. And, of course, I’ll do anything I can, like Lee is doing, to win this ugly little war before it escalates into a big one.

First on my agenda was to contact the DOD Operations, and find out just what our defensive stats were so far. No doubt some of the missile launches and terrorist attacks from the PR Alliance were being kept secret from the public to avoid panic. And panic in the streets can be a far more dangerous outcome to our national security than some big booms (so far not on our shores nor on our allies) or deadly viruses (also so far none having landed on our shores or in the air).

I wasn’t sure the DOD would even inform me of the stats. I was not a presidential advisor, a national security advisor, or anyone of military importance, as Seaview wasn’t in any advanced defensive group. I should have upgraded her as soon as war had been officially declared, but at the time Lee had us on patrol as a lone wolf. Officially, we still were, but gawd, I regretted her not being rated up there with Borealis subs.

Even if we were ordered to upgrade her with more than just a few systems ‘patches’, we’d have to wait in line behind other boats already being redesigned and re outfitted.

As expected the DOD put my call on hold while Sparks verified we had a secure line.

It didn’t help.

Seaview no longer had A Plus clearance for non-presidential communications. While she was still the apple of her former skipper’s eye, she wasn’t the president’s number one sub for at sea defensive weapons.

The presidency had taken my boy completely, in all of its terrible responsibilities that he had sworn to uphold. I’d just have to learn to live with it.

I told Sparks we no longer needed to hold for a response from the DOD. They’d call if they’d call.

I pulled out a new notebook, and began to write down what I did and did not know about radiation and bio hazards. And thus has begun my quest, probably fruitless, to find a solution that, if successful, could feasibly put an end to the use of these terrible offensive weapons for good.

~***~

Chapter Six