Author's
note: This is all Kate's fault!
And
thanks to all my other betas: Liz, Theresa, Pauline and Vic from AU.
Kate
asked me to help her brainstorm a story about what happened to Lee after the
episode The Saboteur... so we
bounced several WHN ideas back and forth.
She
then wrote a beautiful story from all this bouncing called Flight Check.
She
'gifted' me with all the leftover ideas we didn't use and told me I HAD to
write THAT version of WHN.
Several
RL months later... and after much nagging, here it is.
I
find it very interesting that these fraternal twin stories from the same seed (check
the plot points) bear almost NO resemblance to each other whatsoever…
There
are 8,000,000 stories in the naked seascape.... or something like that. :)
Diane
Consequences
by Diane Kachmar
It was all over. He had blown it.
Starke was not going to reinstate him as Seaview's captain; he had all but handed
the man what he needed to end his career. Nelson, Chip and Jamie had all tried
to tell Lee he had no blame in what had happened to him, but in his heart, Crane
knew. He let himself be taken and the People’s Republic had succeeded in turning
him against everything he had sworn to protect.
Crane reached up to straighten his
tie. He'd best go see what Nelson wanted. Getting his command back was his
hope. Lee knew, however, it was probably still too soon. He had passed
Forester’s debriefs and had been cleared, but the final decision of whether or
not he returned to duty aboard Seaview remained Starke's. That Admiral did not
like him or his command style.
Lee plastered a smile on his face as
he knocked. Then he entered the temporary office Nelson had been assigned at
“Ah, Lee.” Nelson bounced up out of
his chair. The Admiral practically dragged him over to the lone window in the
back of the building. “You have to see this.”
Filling up most of the window’s view
was a parked flatbed truck. Strapped to it, with the covering tarp removed and
off to one side, was what could only be the prototype of what Nelson referred
to as his 'flying' sub.
Whether or not she would actually
fly hadn't been proved yet. Lee felt his pulse quicken at the sight of her.
The lifting body design had not looked sleek on paper, but now, she had
lines and shape...
Crane caught himself. There had been
no free time for him to get flight training, so her first test flight would
probably have to be done by a contract Airedale. He needed to concentrate on getting
Seaview back.
“So, what do you think of her?”
Nelson nudged him.
“She's beautiful,” Lee answered. “I
had no idea you were this far along.”
The Admiral shifted with a grunt.
“Truth is -- they've hit a snag with the testing. So I had her brought up here
to give you a go at my problem.”
“Which is?” Crane turned to face
Nelson.
“Something I need a marine engineer
to fix!” the Admiral replied.
“My security clearance is still revoked.”
Nelson looked up at him and scowled.
“FS-1 is not part of Jiggs Starke's Navy yet. As inventor and patent
holder, I say who works on my prototype, not him,” he declared. “I need you on
this, son. I have faith you will be reinstated – eventually. Don’t let this
incident hijack your abilities!”
At least Nelson still believed in
him.
“All right,” Lee acquiesced. ‘No’
was not an answer the Admiral would accept in his current mood. “What do you
want me to work on?”
Nelson grinned. “Juice the engines.
We will never get her airborne, if you don't. We have to reach 155 knots. I
think we have the right design, but we definitely need a more efficient jet
flow. You know this design. Get me there.”
Working on a blueprint would be
better than sitting around waiting for Starke’s favor, whenever he would deign
to bestow it. That was playing his game. He could do this. “When do we
start?”
Nelson gestured at his desk.
"Sit down. I've got the blueprint right here."
********
Lee tightened his lap belt. He
was ready. Crane had mastered the subtleties of her twin joysticks after
several trial runs. Lee was confident he would maintain rudder control once
they reached what the Admiral had projected was her air speed. He had never
piloted a boat that fast before but, if this craft became part of Seaview's EVA
assets as Nelson intended, he would be.
His wounded shoulder was not
happy with what Lee had been demanding of it, but finally using the
prescription cream Jamieson had given him six weeks ago had eased the pain
enough for him to sleep. Piloting the small craft also wore him out. That had helped
to keep his nightmares at bay. The lightning from the Chinese brainwash device still
lurked in his subconscious, when Crane let himself sleep long enough to dream.
The Admiral’s insistence Lee be
involved in this testing had focused his attention away from his delayed
reinstatement. Starke was deliberately taking his time to sign off on Forester's
incident report, but now it didn't matter. Tweaking the aqua-jets to run faster
had both been hard work and, surprisingly, a lot of fun.
Crane eased the throttle forward. He
had given Curley and Kowalski more than enough time to get their observation
boat in position to record his run. They soon learned three outboard engines
were no match for his jets, so they stopped trying to chase after him.
Lee now ran parallel to the coast to
stay in sight of his support crew. He had to keep the classified craft within the
military reservation. He'd have maybe one minute full out before he had to drop
back at least a third to a more sane cruising speed. Lee only had to prove she
could go that fast. Actual test flights would come later at home in Santa
Barbara where there was enough private space to keep her patented design unobserved.
She felt good in his hands,
running straight and true along Lee’s chosen
course. He was getting used to the motion as she sliced through the off-shore
swell.
He had to be leaving quite a wake. Lee grinned. If he did swamp anyone on the base,
it was not his fault; they had been warned to steer clear of his test
runs.
Nelson was very good
friends with the facility commander. Mark knew what
they were doing out here. He had given his blessing, but they were
still guests and
didn't need to ruffle feathers unnecessarily.
Lee
continued to open up the throttle incrementally, keeping an eye on both his
speed and where he was along the coast. It would not do to run out of space
before he reached Nelson’s desired airspeed. The ride was not smooth, but that was
also part of the testing. The joysticks controlled her well enough, but Crane
was going to recommend they not cruise on the surface like this, unless they
had to for takeoff.
He looked at his speed indicator. It
was time. Lee pushed the throttle wide open. The nose came up, and her
bouncing, splashing ride smoothed out. She had to be skimming the wave tops, as
the water was no longer slapping against the front windows. Lee checked his control
panel again. He was full out and he still hadn't hit 155 knots. And
he should have. Why wasn't he still bouncing in the waves?
He was about to run out of
reservation. Apparently 150 knots was as high as she would go. Since he
couldn't turn her at this speed, Lee throttled back. Several things happened
all at once.
The nose dropped. Not a few feet
back down into the swell, but a sickening drop of several feet. Lee swung his
rudder to starboard to give himself more maneuvering room away from the shore as
his speed lessened. There was no answering response from the craft.
A moment later Crane pancaked into
the water nose first with a jarring splash that rocked his chair hard. The sub
half flipped forward and then corkscrewed sideways as the sub finally turned.
The g-force of the landing slammed
Lee to the left side of his pilot chair, despite his lap belt. Pain shot
through his lower chest. Crane struggled back upright to power down before
anything else went wrong. The fading whine of the aqua-jets indicating shutdown
was the last thing he heard as everything went grey and unfocused.
********
"What's he doing there?” Curley
Jones asked, incredulously.
"That's called flying,
Chief!" Martin Kowalski couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, either.
Crane had explained it to him. If he got going fast enough, the craft was
capable of doing what they were observing.
"I thought he wasn't supposta be
able to take off!" Curley stated.
"That's why it’s called a
test?"
The Chief frowned. "Flying was
not in our orders!"
"The
Skipper will bring her down again once he realizes he’s taken off--"
Martin assured his superior.
The prototype that had been cruising
along nicely above the water took a sudden dive, spinning after she splashed
inelegantly back into the sea on her nose.
"That's no good!" Jones
dropped his binoculars down around his neck and moved to the wheel of the boat.
He gunned the outboard engines from idle to power. "Let's go get him."
********
Ski gauged the wave roll and jumped
so he’d land on top of the hatch. It certainly was easier to climb up her side using
the now stowed ladder. Martin grasped one side of the hatch edge for balance
while he keyed in the sequence to open her. In an emergency. That was
why Crane had given it to him.
He would eventually have to be cleared
to continue to work on this prototype but, for now, both the Admiral and Chief
had told him not to worry about it. He was to do whatever needed doing.
The hatch slid open. Martin unshipped
the ladder and put it over the side of the craft. Curley would tie the two craft
together with it and then join him aboard.
Ski signaled the Chief he was going
down inside. He fervently hoped the Skipper was all right. That had been a really
hard landing.
Martin came down the interior ladder
to find Crane sprawled in the pilot seat. He looked unconscious. Must have
hit something in here.
Ski gently laid two fingers against the
Skipper’s neck. Frank had taught him to count to determine what the pulse was.
Crane twitched away as soon as he
touched him, drew a deep breath and groaned. Martin tried to read him again as
the Skipper’s eyes fluttered open.
“Mmmenth.” Crane twitched the other
way, rolling his head, as he fought back to consciousness.
“Easy, Skipper.” Kowalski laid a
tentative hand on his leather-clad shoulder. “You slammed down pretty hard. Let
me check you out before you start moving around.”
Crane tried to pull himself upright.
He collapsed against the back of the pilot chair with another groan, cradling his
left arm into his ribcage.
“Hey, what’s going on down there?” Curley
poked his head inside the upper hatch.
“Tell him... I’m fine!” Crane hissed, in obvious pain, as
he finally managed to sit back up with a major effort. “Got the wind ... knocked
out ... of me!”
“I got the tow line ready to rig, Skipper.
You want us to haul you back to the dock?” Jones asked.
Crane reached out with a definite
wince and flipped up a switch. A soft hum filled the cabin. “I’ve got power... Chief.
How’s my ... hull integrity?
“I didn’t find any dents, sir,” Curley
answered cheerfully.
Ski looked around the cabin. “You
don’t seem to be taking on water. Why did you crash?”
“I lost ... rudder control…” Crane
bit out the words. “And I shouldn’t have!”
“You no longer had contact with the water,
Skipper. You were about ten feet above it, actually. That’s why your
rudder didn't respond,” Ski explained.
“She was flying?” Crane
asked.
“Yeah,” Martin acknowledged. “I
guess when you throttled back to make your turn, she --“
The Skipper grimaced in pain. “That
I noticed,” he interrupted.
Crane glanced up at the Chief framed
in the open hatch. “Curley, can you spare Kowalski? I think the two of us can get
her back in. Will you follow us? In case we do need a tow?"
“Give me a gas outboard you can
depend on over this toy any day.” Jones shook his head in disgust. “Ski, come
up here and cast me off. I’ll be glad to stay on your six. To make sure you do
get back,” Curley declared.
Crane inclined his head, signaling him to
go, so Martin made the climb up the ladder. Ski trusted his Captain. It took a
few moments to fold and then stow the outside ladder. Martin hit the inside control
to close the hatch tight.
When he came back down into the
interior, Crane was half slumped to the right in the pilot chair. He did not
look happy.
“Sir,
are you hurt?" Now they were alone, Ski could be that direct.
The Skipper looked up at him.
"I don't know. I slammed into the left armrest."
"If you'll permit me..." Martin
started to unbutton Crane's uniform shirt.
"Where does it hurt?"
Crane pointed to his raised left
side.
Kowalski carefully lifted the
leather jacket and khaki shirt aside. "Well, there’s no blood gushing,
sir. I don’t see any protruding bones, either, but you do have a large armrest-shaped
red bruise coming up there."
"That I can feel," Crane replied.
"Can it wait?"
"I'm not a trained medic, sir.
I'd definitely get that bruising looked at by Doc as soon as we get back to
shore."
"I will. Now button me back up so
we can get going."
Ski did as he was asked. When he was
done, Martin eyed the twin joysticks doubtfully. "Sir, if you do have
busted ribs, you shouldn't be pulling on these."
“Doesn’t matter. We have to get back
to the dock. And you don't pull a joystick, you feather it. The lighter the
touch, the better she'll respond.”
"How do they work?" Ski
eased into the co-pilot seat. "I'm not rated for this, but I can drive
most anything, Skipper."
Crane straightened up with an effort,
his left arm tucking into his side. He looked incongruous with his khaki shirt
tail hanging out from under his leather jacket, but Martin pretended not to
notice.
"I still have one arm I can use."
The Skipper closed his right hand around the right joystick possessively.
"I'm giving you the throttle..." Crane moved his hand forward and then
flipped up some levers on the control panel in front of him. "When I tell
you, you ease the left joystick forward or back at my direction, all
right?"
The display in front of him lit up.
Ski buckled his lap belt. "Say the word, sir."
Crane looked over at him and
grimaced. "Are you sure you want to ride with me? I don't have the best
reputation at the moment."
Ski grinned. "I trust you,
Skipper. Let's get this bird back to the dock before they decide to send Navy
rescue out here after us. You know how the Admiral gets about his inventions.
We don't need to draw that kind of attention."
The Skipper almost smiled. "She
flew, huh?"
Kowalski nodded vigorously.
"Yes, sir. Several hundred feet.
Crane flipped a few more levers.
"All right, ease her forward slowly while
I
bring us back on course. I'm sure Curley is getting impatient out there."
Martin pushed his joystick lightly
and was pleased when the sub responded to his touch. Once they got back, there
would to be hell to pay.
********
"You are never going to heal if
you keep doing this," Will admonished harshly as he carefully wound the
ace bandage around Lee's badly bruised ribs. "Seriously. You have to stop
taking these risks. Even if only one rib had shattered, it could have punctured
your lung. Then you would have bled out or stop breathing and died before
anyone could have gotten to you!"
"She wasn't supposed to
fly, Jamie...” Lee scowled as he sat morosely on the med bed, grudgingly submissive
to the care he obviously needed and to his lecture. "I was trying to hit a
speed fast enough to achieve lift. It was a boat ride. I wasn't planning
on getting hurt again," Crane explained impatiently.
Will glared at him. "Joy
ride is more like it. One you had no business being on in your present
condition. You are supposed to be recovering from major trauma, not adding to
it! Had I known the craft was capable of flight, I would have never agreed
to you testing it. You only have seventy-five percent motion and strength back in
that arm and shoulder from the bullet wound. That infernal craft has two
joysticks, which takes two arms in working condition! I may not be an engineer,
but I can count!"
Nelson walked in on them at that
moment, so Will paused. He wasn’t sure he should continue dressing down a
patient who was his commanding officer. At least he had been, when Crane had
his command. The long wait for Crane to be reinstated was getting out of
hand. Someone had to put the brakes on!
"Lee was doing what I told him
to," Nelson stated, as he came up to the bed. He grinned at Crane, obviously
in a very good mood. "Will, the book says an airspeed of 155 knots will
achieve flight. She took off before Lee reached that. She shouldn't have. Our lift design is apparently
way better than any book. It wasn't something we knew would happen, so stop
yelling at him. That's what we were testing. It was Lee's test to make."
"So, you're telling me that no
one on this operation was thinking!" Will grumbled, as his fingers
continued to wrap the ace bandage around Crane.
"He's a boat man, Will!"
Nelson refused to let his enthusiasm be cowed. "Airplane rudders work
differently. I definitely need to beef up the horizontal stabilizer if she does
that during the throttle down to conversion and replace the current lap belts
with flight harnesses. Oh, and I have to teach Lee to maintain his airspeed and
how to use his aileron for descent." Nelson grinned even wider at his
Captain.
The Admiral's exuberance was definitely
infectious.
Lee lifted his head in an answering
smile as he slowly relaxed his defensive posture on the med bed. "Ease up,
Jamie. We didn't do this deliberately. I was speed testing the jets. I was not
trying to fly." A mischievous glint grew in Crane's hazel eyes. "I can't.
I haven't passed flight school yet!"
Jamieson reached out to lift a metal
clip off the tray. "Don't push me. I have to sign off on that training before
you can go there." Will clipped the bandage together and then
turned to Nelson. "I need you both to be a little less cavalier. A head
injury from a crash like this could have killed him!"
"I didn't land on my head,"
Lee protested.
"Might have knocked some sense
into you!" The Doctor rounded on Crane again. "You are not flying
again anytime soon. You are hereby grounded until those ribs heal."
"It's all right, son,"
Nelson broke in. "It will take at least that long to get her refitted with
the improved stabilizer. I've decided to ship her back to the
They shared another jubilant grin.
Jamieson shook his head. There
was nothing he could say now that would dampen their triumph. Success was
important, if Crane was ever to recover from what the “Parker” incident had
done to him. Will only hoped the price Lee had paid today was not too
high.
********
"You want me to do what?" Nelson
stood up from the desk, trying not to lose his temper. "The window bond has
barely been dry forty-eight hours. This is no time to be taking her out!"
"I need a boat there, Harriman.
You are the only one I have available at the moment. Recall your crew and make
all preparations to sail. If Morton is as good as you say; he can handle this
mission."
"I want Crane back, or you can
forget about us going anywhere!"
Jiggs started to turn red on the end
of the videophone. "I haven't completed my review yet. I won't be rushed
into a decision on this matter, particularly since you keep demanding I
make one!"
"You want me to go to
"I will not be blackmailed,
Nelson. I'm in charge here and you are attached to me. Not the other way
around. No. Don't think I don't know what you and Crane have been doing.
Screaming all over the
"I'm not in
"You are always indulging and then
defending that upstart! He's like you. You never want to follow any rules,
either."
Nelson almost smiled. "You
don't mind me not following the rules, when it adds to your glory and your
fleet."
Starke harrumphed. "You do have
your uses," he granted.
"Look, Jiggs, you need me. If I
go on this errand for you, my Captain is going with me. I'm not leaving him here
on the dock."
"I thought Crane was in your
"My CMO will certify him fit to
sail. If you make me!" Nelson bluffed.
Jiggs waved a dismissing hand.
"Fine. Take Crane with you. Your CMO can be in charge of him, so no one
else has to be. Mark certainly doesn't need him underfoot! Good salt air
might even help him recover.” Starke glared at him through the video monitor. “We'll
talk about Crane's reinstatement when you get back, Harriman. After I've
had enough time to complete my review. I'll send your orders. I expect you to
be underway 24 hours from their receipt."
"What's
so important in
"Not on this channel, Harry.
Wait for your orders. Starke out."
Harry stood glaring at the blank
screen for a moment. Jiggs could be a royal pain in the ass sometimes. If
they were going to Manila, he'd better check in with Chip and Randy and see
where they were on the repairs. He now had a promise of a review. He wasn't
going to let Starke off that hook, not until Lee was reinstated.
********
Lee tossed the reports Chip had sent
him onto the desk and leaned tiredly back into his chair. Sitting up made
his ribs hurt, lying down made his ribs hurt, doing most anything made his ribs
…
Crane stopped that train of thought.
Getting worked up wouldn’t help. His stewards already knew he was not adjusting
well to being sidelined. That was the last thing he needed spread around the
boat. Being the focus of at least seven well-meaning and self-appointed
nursemaids on this cruise was already seven too many.
Lee
wished briefly he could give every last one of them back, including Chip. As
Acting Captain, Morton definitely had a hand in this, way past his wrist.
Frustrated, Lee raked a hand over
his head until the twinge in his side told him he shouldn't have… He resisted
the urge to slam his fist down on the desk. Crane knew from bitter experience his
ribs would not like that, either.
Lee leaned back in the chair with an
audible sigh. He needed to get himself under control or the stewards would
tell Frank or Chip. That would cause a return visit from Jamieson. He had
already threatened to put Lee out again, if the pain from his ribs was preventing
him from getting the rest the Doctor insisted on. He’d lose an additional 24
hours until the sedative wore off. Then he’d have to get yet another report
from Chip to find what else he’d missed while he was back in la la land. Crane
had not wanted to go there the first time, but he had not been given any choice.
Lee picked up the report lying on the
desk. What was really bothering him? “Acting captain” Morton was merely
keeping him informed as if they were still CO and XO. Chip didn’t have to do
that. Only he was.
Nelson should have left him ashore on
Mare Island. That’s what his current unresolved situation dictated. He had no
status, only this disgusting limbo Lee was trapped in until the investigation
concluded.
Crane was convinced Nelson had made him
into an ersatz medical emergency to force Starke to let him go with the boat. They
had refused to leave him behind when they had been ordered to sail.
Lee appreciated that unspoken
loyalty. That he didn’t deserve.
His stewards were trying too hard not
to call him captain, falling back on the less formal Skipper as his new title.
It was out of deference to Morton, but they still had slipped often enough for
Lee to be uncomfortable with the switch. He wasn’t Seaview’s captain any
more. He might never be again...
Lee had caught Morton grinning when
that happened in front of him. Which wasn’t right. The crew was very happy
Lee was aboard, regardless of his status. It did make it easier for Morton to
do what he had to.
So Crane was living with the unspoken
'arrangement' that he’d also had no decision in. Chip was doing what he should
be doing, while all Lee did was take up cabin space on his medical disability or
whatever Nelson had Jamieson classify him until --
Until he got his command back. If
he ever did…
There was a knock on his cabin door.
Lee almost didn’t answer it. He was
in no mood to be civil to whoever it was, up to and including the Admiral.
“Come,” he answered, more out of
habit than desire as Crane sat up to make it appear that he had actually been
working.
The door opened and Kowalski walked back
in.
Nursemaid in chief.
“I’ll deliver those papers now, sir,
if you are done reading them,” Ski offered.
Crane reached for the pen, before he
realized what he was doing. Then he pulled back his hand. He had no status.
Ski was offering to take them back to Morton so they could be signed.
Lee felt more than saw Kowalski
flinch at his aborted movement. His over-observant steward didn’t miss much.
Crane leaned back in the chair and
let his gaze rove over the rating for a moment.
"Which one of the unholy three put you up to this?" Lee asked
quietly, if only to confirm what was going on was what he thought was going on.
Kowalski shifted from one foot to
the other. The sonar man was honest to a fault and would never lie to him, but Ski
was also intensely loyal and would never give up a crew mate, either.
"That would be telling, sir…"
Ski finally answered, equally as quiet.
Crane steepled his fingers together.
It was a confirmation.
Lee leaned forward again to gather
up the papers. He handed them over to the rating. “Take these back to Mr.
Morton,” he directed.
“With your compliments, sir?”
Kowalski asked hopefully.
“No.” Lee was about to say much more,
but stopped.
They were all trying so hard to
act like everything was fine, that it was only a matter of time before he was
back in command. Only the truth could not be ignored because it was not what
they wanted. He wasn't fine, and he wasn't in command.
Lee could not bring himself to berate Kowalski
for joining in a plot to make him feel like part of the boat again. Ski was
only the messenger. “Tell him he needs to sign them.”
Again the conflicting emotions
crossed Kowalski’s face. “Aye, sir,” he finally confirmed, with a lot less
enthusiasm.
"You don’t have to sir me, Ski.
I haven’t been reinstated,” Lee replied. “I appreciate your help as part of my
medical convalescence, but that’s as far as it goes. Now go take those reports back
to Mr. Morton.”
"But, sir…"
Crane turned away.
The rating stood for a moment
longer. “Skipper, I’m …”
Lee swiveled back in the chair.
“Come back when you’ve finished the delivery. Then you can do whatever it is you
were told to.”
Kowalski ducked his head and then
grinned. “Aye, Skipper. Be right back.”
********
At first Ski wasn’t certain this
was a good idea. Sure, Doc wanted Crane to get some exercise every afternoon.
Only their options were limited here on the boat. Somehow, Martin doubted
Jamieson would have signed off on a walkabout of all five decks.
As touchy as the Skipper had been about
being ‘helped,’ Ski was content to accompany him on the tour before the
Captain’s natural restlessness got the better of Crane’s temper and his
patience. It would do Crane far more good to make sure all was well on the
Seaview, than to brood in his cabin, now they were at sea.
They had visited nearly all the
manned spaces, so Crane might be willing to stop once they finished D deck. The
Skipper’s bruised ribs didn’t seem to be bothering him. He was straight and
tall and steady, except for the new thickness around his waist where the ace bandage was bound
around him. The crew had been very glad to see Crane out and walking among them.
Many had greeted him warmly as they made their way down through the decks.
The Captain’s now familiar routine had
been missing from their lives since the “incident.” They had been berthed way too
long waiting for the blown-out nose to be repaired. Martin knew everyone wanted
Crane to be reinstated before they sailed again, but that had not happened. The
Admiral was still working on it. He had to have faith Nelson would get it done.
The boat would not be right again until Crane was restored to her conn.
“Can you hear that, Ski?” the
Skipper paused for a moment in the aft D deck corridor.
Martin stopped beside him. “Yes.
It’s coming from there.” Ski pointed down the corridor.
They followed the tinny sound of
water hitting metal.
“Here!" Martin knelt to run his
finger along the raised riveted seam. He pulled his hand away quickly. “It’s
wet. We have to find out where this is coming from. Now!” Ski straightened.
Crane's eyes were fixed on the path
of the trickle. “There’s more up this way.” His long legs took him quickly to
the nearest open hatch. He bent over it, feeling the deck on the other side.
“It came from in here.”
The Skipper headed for the valve on
the hull side, the most likely source.
Kowalski was right beside him. The
casing was damp. A quick search found the water was seeping out of a very small
crack in the base.
“Go get a repair kit, before this
gets any worse,” Crane directed. “I'll look around for something to block the
flow until you get back.”
Ski was almost to the locker when
the flood alarm sounded. He immediately turned around and ran back toward his
Captain.
The hatch to the compartment slammed
closed and locked down almost in his face. Ski knew from long experience
that the watertight had sealed. There was no other way out of that compartment.
Lee Crane was now trapped in there with the flooding. There was nothing Martin
could do to help him from here.
********
Lee was looking for a rag to stuff
into the leak when there was an ominous crack behind him, followed by the sound
of rushing water. He turned around to find what had been a pinhole leak was now
a rupture. There was no way he would stop that flow with anything in here.
Crane took two steps back toward the
hatch to escape the water and dog it closed from the other side. The flooding
alarm sounded. There was only one series of bells more serious - fire.
The hatch began to close in front of
him. Lee halted in the middle of his third stride. No human effort could
stop that hydraulic swing. The watertight hatch sealed with a definite
thunk. The automated system for unmanned compartments had done its job. The
boat was safe. The flooding would be confined to this compartment.
The only problem with that was-- he
was in this compartment. Lee could already feel the cold water soaking
through the sides of his oxfords. What else could he do to safeguard the
boat?
Lee was distracted from his
predicament by pounding on the hatch. Ski was on the other side yelling for
him.
Crane sloshed over to the hatch.
"I'm all right, Ski," he
shouted. "Go report this!"
The pounding stopped.
Lee heard, “Hang on,” and then “I’ll
come back with help.”
He rapped on the hatch door their
agreed upon Morse for O and K.
Kowalski banged back the damage control
acknowledgement from their many drills. There was nothing the rating could
do for him. The override to the automatic system was in the control room. The
repair crew couldn't activate that, until they shut down the ballast tank feed
into the broken valve.
Lee waded back toward the valve to
assess the damage. He circled around the worst of the gushing to see where it
was coming from. The valve casing had split wide open, totally rendering any
repair attempt by him useless. The water would not stop flowing in until the
valve intake was plugged from the ballast tank on the other side of the
bulkhead.
Randy and Chip would have to get him
out. There was no mic in this compartment, so Crane couldn't report what he had
seen. His rescue lay with Ski. Lee looked down at the cold water now soaking his
pant legs. He did not have much time before this access compartment
completely filled with ballast water. The
flood alarm was abruptly cut off.
Morton's voice came over the ship-wide
intercom. "We have a valve rupture in compartment D24. All personnel on D
deck evacuate. I repeat, evacuate. Seal all watertight hatches behind you. This
is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill. Maneuvering, prepare to blow all
ballast and surface! I repeat, surface, surface."
A familiar bubbling came from
outside the hull as Crane felt the boat rising. Another alarm bell went off and
compressed air began coming out of the air vent above the valve in a shrill
whistle.
Someone was thinking. Now
he only had to find a way to stay alive.
********
Kowalski came through the hatch at
the rear of the control room by the radio shack and headed for the officers clustered
at the chart table. Miller was giving a report.
Morton looked up as he approached,
his expression turning quizzical as he saw Ski was alone. He raised an eyebrow.
Martin shook his head in a quick
negative.
Their Acting Captain frowned and returned
his attention to his Engineering Officer’s briefing.
“We won't be able to drain the
ballast fast enough to keep the compartment from flooding,” Miller continued.
“Once the tanks are purged on the surface and all the intakes are closed, we’ll
concentrate on getting the water out of that compartment, so the hatch will
reset and we can regain entry to inspect the valve. Once we seal that off, it
will isolate the compartment, so it will stay dry until we can replace the
damage. By taking the break out of the system, we can then re-flood ballast to
regain neutral buoyancy. With no ballast on that side - we will have to
manipulate the planes constantly to maintain trim during the repair. Bobby will
handle that.”
“It won't be pretty,” O'Brien
answered. “I’ll try to keep the roll to a minimum.”
“How long will this take?” Morton
asked.
“An hour,” Miller answered.
“Depending on how quickly we can flush the ballast on the surface and then get
a pump set up to pull the water out of there.”
“The Skipper is in there!” Ski broke
in, with the information they needed to hear. “The watertight activated
automatically. I couldn't get him out.”
They all turned and stared at him.
“What was Lee doing in D24?”
Morton asked in disbelief.
Kowalski swallowed hard. “We were still
touring the boat. He heard something and when we investigated, he found a
pinhole leak in there. The Skipper sent me out to get a kit to plug it. I was
at the tool locker when the flood alarm sounded. I ran back, but it had already
sealed. He yelled through the hatch for me to report that to you.”
“He would,” Morton muttered darkly. He
turned to Miller. “I have the conn.”
“You have the conn. Sir,” Miller
answered. “I will assemble my repair team and report when we begin.”
“Go!” Morton acknowledged. "The
sooner we get Lee out of there the better. I'll tell the Admiral."
“Aye, sir!” Miller took up the mic
from the periscope island and began giving the orders to get his damage control
teams on the job.
Morton looked sideways at Kowalski.
“Do you want to volunteer to go with Miller?”
Ski thought a minute about the DC
plan he had heard outlined. None of it fell into his expertise, but he knew someplace
where he could help. “I'd rather go to
Morton's frown deepened. “You are a
better steward than he deserves, Ski. Go help Will then.”
The rating shrugged. “We knew what
the job was when we took on the duty, sir.”
“Do you want to tell Nelson that?”
Their AC gestured unenthusiastically up the stairwell.
Martin took a step back. “No, sir.
That one is all yours.”
********
Now that the seawater flowing into
the compartment was up to his waist, Lee had to fight not to shiver. At
least his damp uniform would serve as a wet suit of sorts once the water
trapped beneath it was warmed by his body. They knew he was in here. Ski would
see to that. He could tread water for however long it took; he had done it many
times before. Question was; did he really have to?
Lee glanced around the small compartment. It
was basically there to provide repair access to the valve and for storage. C
Deck was about a foot over his head, so if the compartment filled, he would not
be able to stand. Not if he wanted to keep his head above water to breathe. The
compartment was too small to have any scuba gear or even a life jacket. Crane
rested his hand on his submerged hip out of habit and then jerked it back out as
the water soaked through his dry shirt sleeve.
What did it matter? He was
going to be completely underwater in a very short time. The water was already
creeping up under the ace bandage around his bruised ribs. They still ached; he
couldn’t wait until the icy water covered them and made them ache even more.
Lee shook off his melancholy
thoughts. He had to stay alive in order to get his boat back. The Admiral
was convinced their successful completion of Starke’s mission would gain him
that. He couldn’t let Starke win. If he gave up and let the water take him,
Starke would have his validation. Admiral Starke might think he was many
things, but quitter was not what Lee wanted to be remembered as.
He dropped both hands into the
rising water. The only useful tool he had on him was his khaki belt. If he
could fling it up over the pipes that ran along the bottom of the deck above
him…
Crane looked up, calculating. One
pipe might not be enough to hold up his weight, but if he could get the belt
over both of them, plus his buoyancy in the water…
First the water had to lift him
up there. His ribs would not take any extension of his arms or prolonged
hanging.
Lee fought to keep from shivering as the flood climbed
up his chest. He pulled his tie down a few inches to free his collar from
around his neck. Crane used one foot and then the other to remove his shoes. He'd
float much easier without their dead weight. Then he unbuckled and pulled
his belt free to have ready. It would not be long now.
********
“Ballast drain complete, sir. Damage
control is now entering the tank access to seal off the valve.”
Chip Morton glanced at his watch and
his eyes went once again to the status board where the lone red light glowed to
indicate compartment D24 was still flooded. Crane had already been in there too long
and they hadn’t even begun to drain the water. That was going to take even more
time.
“Damn it, Lee,” Morton swore
silently to himself, while he struggled to maintain his outer calm. “Why do
you always have to be the one who finds trouble?”
He could only hope Crane had
found a way to keep above the water. His best friend was a master diver; if
anyone could survive a flooded compartment, it was Lee. Except Crane was far
from one hundred percent at the moment. Hypothermia could take hold so fast…
Morton shook his head. Lee was a
Seal; he had trained for cold exposure. Surely he would find a way to last an
hour. Crane was mule stubborn; that alone might save him.
“We’re through the bulkhead.
Attaching pump hose now.” Miller
reported via the intercom.
Hang on, Lee. We’re going to get
you out of there.
Chip reached for the mic. “
Jamieson answered.
“Time to send Frank and Ski down to
D deck.”
“On their way.”
********
The rising water had stabilized with
the purging of the ballast tanks, but it was still too high for Lee to put his
feet down and stand up in. His right arm was twisted into his looped belt
clasped around the roof pipes to keep him on top of the water with a minimum of
effort. He had wedged himself up into the far corner, sliding his belt along
the pipes until he found enough clearance to maintain a prone float position
into the compartment.
It was actually warmer to leave
the back of his head down in the water than raising it up into the compressed
air stream. It muffled the persistent noises coming from the other side of the
bulkhead, making it harder to follow the repairs, but it made him shiver less.
The boat kept shifting under Lee as well, fighting to maintain trim with one
side of her ballast now completely empty.
Go with her when she rolls.
Relax. Concentrate on breathing correctly to stay afloat. Keep the count. Breathe
slow and even. Don’t pass out. Don’t go under. Don’t think how cold it is. Keep
counting.
Lee was so intent on his float drill
that the sudden loud clank startled him badly. He almost went under before he
caught himself. Crane clutched his belt tighter; using that leverage to lift
his head out of the disturbed water, as he tried to figure out what shattered
his concentration on surviving. He immediately started to shiver as the blowing
compressed air hit his wet hair and ears.
Almost immediately after that, the
high pitched hiss of the compressed air shut down, throwing the compartment
into an almost eerie silence, except for the sound of lapping water. That stillness
was almost immediately shattered by a discordant clank, clank, clank. Lee
turned his head toward the bulkhead and for the first time, did not displace
any water with his chin.
The clanking finally settled into a
recognizable rhythm, much faster than he was used to, but familiar nonetheless.
They were pumping the water from his compartment into the ballast tank where
it would drain back into the sea.
Lee relaxed, letting his belt bear
most of his weight as he floated on the surface. He was definitely lower in
the water, in relation to the top of the compartment. Soon he would be able to
drop his legs down and not worry about going under. He was not going to drown.
Crane continued to breathe slowly
and regularly, maintaining his float until he was at least a foot from the
ceiling. His water-soaked right arm, wound in the hanging belt, was starting to
feel the strain of holding him up. His mostly healed bullet wound in the same shoulder
was also protesting being used in this fashion, and the immersion into salt
water.
Lee cautiously let his legs drop and
shifted his position to see if he could find the deck floor. His foot brushed
something hard, which slid as soon as he touched it, which almost dunked him.
Lee grasped his belt, pulling himself up out of the roiled waters.
That was the broken valve casing,
not the deck. He angled himself away from the uneven surface and tried to
touch down again. His bruised ribs could not take any sustained hanging,
once the water no longer supported him, but the valve casing might.
Lee bravely undid his aching arm
from his belt and swam a stroke over the casing to the less damaged side.
Treading water with his hands, Crane was determined to find a solid perch for
his feet, one that would allow him to stand while the water drained.
He reached down again with one foot.
He hit something solid that didn’t move, so he let the other foot down. The
water lapped chest high as he stopped treading and stood. Lee searched around
with his left hand. He bounced off the valve wheel.
Using that as an anchor, Lee could
see the water had sunk about two feet. It wasn’t easy to stand up in, as every
movement he made sent water rippling in every direction only to come back and
slap against his upper chest and neck.
As
more of him became exposed to the air, Lee realized how chill the water really
was. He began to shiver yet again, which only made the water bounce against him
harder, constantly re-soaking what was out of the water. He was going to have to
do something. Before the cold started doing the thinking for him.
Lee checked his watch. The diving
model he wore out of habit confirmed he was well past time for hypothermia. If
his increased shivering was any indication, he was losing that battle and would
probably pass out before they pumped out enough water to make the hatch
release. Lee grasped the wheel hard. He did not go through all this only
to drown in the five inches of water that would be left below the hatch sensor
when it released.
He had to find some way to stay
upright, before the cold overtook him. Lee used the wheel to hoist himself
up onto the valve assembly – what was left made almost a crude seat. If he
passed out up here, he’d topple right off into the water.
There had to be a way. If only he
could lash himself to the wheel. He should not have left his belt over the
pipe. Now it was out of easy reach. Stupid. He didn’t think. He couldn’t
think.
Lee clenched his right hand tight
against his leg. Think. If only he could stop shivering. Shivering
only made the water lap worse, making him even colder. He clenched an arm
around his aching ribs and his loosened tie slid and bunched beneath it. Crane
flinched as the fabric irritated. Why was he still wearing it? It was
useless…
No, it wasn’t. Crane fumbled the material
loose from under his arm and then reached up with both arms to untie the knot.
He almost slid off the valve, as he overbalanced. Lee flung out his left arm, catching
the valve wheel, an anchor that stopped him from falling off into the waist
deep water.
He clung to the wheel for a moment to
get his breathing and the shooting pain in his ribs under control again. Lee slowly
scooted himself back up onto the valve. He was drenched enough; he did not
relish another dunk in those now diminishing waters.
Carefully, using one hand, Crane slid
the knot on his tie down until it released. Lee took up the now loose end and
knotted it to the valve wheel. Then he carefully wrapped it around his left arm
making sure he was bound tightly to the wheel. He wrapped the remainder around
the curved metal and tied it off tight. If he slumped, it would be back against
the valve control.
It was not a comfortable position
but, with the grey fog that was overtaking his vision, Lee did not think he
would care much longer. He wished he would stop shivering. The clank
of the pump was fading into the greyness. Crane liked the grey mist that was
closing in around him, it felt warm. He’d give most anything to feel warm
again…
********
“Get that hatch open. Now!” Randy
Miller looked up from the corridor mic. “The control room reports it has cycled
green."
Kowalski spun the hatch wheel with
practiced ease, and they all heard the watertight unseal. He swung the hatch
aside so Frank could step over the rim with his med bag and blankets. Ski was
right on his heels as they splashed through the puddled water.
Crane wasn’t hard to spot. He lay
sprawled on top of the broken valve casing, the highest object in the room. The
Captain was slumped against the valve wheel, limp and unmoving. His eyes were
closed. With his head down on his chest, it was hard to tell if the Skipper was
breathing. At least he was not face down on the deck.
Frank lost no time bundling a shock
blanket around his still form but had to stop when he couldn’t pass it behind
him.
“What the…” the paramedic pulled
back.
Ski tried to lift Crane forward to
help him and also encountered resistance. His questing fingers found fabric and
knots.
“He’s tied himself to the wheel. Let
me get him loose--“
“No time.” Frank slashed through the
knotted tie with medical shears.
Ski had to move quickly to catch
Crane as he slumped forward onto him.
Frank then wrapped the blanket
deftly around the Skipper. “Tilt his head back. Is he breathing?”
“Barely.” Kowalski moved Crane into
an easier position up against him so Frank could check his vitals. “He’s like
ice.”
“Hypothermic
shock,” Frank confirmed. “I’ve got a heartbeat, but not for long if we don’t
get him out of here and warmed up. Let’s move.” Frank rapidly knotted the
second rolled blanket into a carry. They hammocked Crane in between the knots.
Martin let Frank take the lead as
they lifted him over the hatch and out into the hallway.
“Medical emergency!” Frank’s tense
call scattered the damage control party to hug the corridor walls, so they
could pass. Ski could see the worry on their faces. The Skipper was not
going to die. Not on his watch. Not after the year they’d had together.
********
Randy Miller moved to the center of
the corridor to reassemble his DCP. “Craig,” he motioned to his second, “Take
Jenkins and do the repair inventory. Find out if it is repairable from stores.”
The junior officer went into the
compartment with his clipboard and the rating.
Miller turned to the Admiral beside
him, who was still gazing in the direction that the pair carrying Crane to
“I can report to you later,” Miller
offered.
Nelson turned to him. “No, if I have
to abort Starke’s mission, he’ll want to know why. Let’s go have our look and see
if she can be repaired.”
********
Ski sank down on the other exam bed
for a moment to collect himself. The last hour had been intense. He
glanced at the heart monitor that was now attached to Crane. It showed a normal
rhythm and a steady pulse beat, even if that pulse number was still below where
it should be.
They had finally reversed Crane's
shock with every bit of heat therapy they had on board. The Skipper was slowly
warming toward a more normal temperature. It wasn’t much of a gain, but at
least he had stopped going up and then back down on them. They had nearly lost
him to the cold.
The next time, he’d keep the Skipper
in the hallway and go into the compartment himself to investigate. This latest medical
emergency was the last thing the Skipper and the boat needed right now. He’d
been assigned to keep Crane safe. That had worked out really well.
A hand fell on his shoulder.
“Get out of those wet sneakers. I have
no time for another patient.” Jamieson shoved a pair of medical bed socks into
his hands. “These will get you down to the laundry. You can take the Captain’s
uniform there as well.”
The doctor’s hand tightened around
his shoulder for a moment. “Go grab some rack time, Ski. I’ll get word passed
to you, when there is anything to report. Now, scram. I’m expecting the brass
any minute. It hasn’t been your watch for a while now and you aren’t mine.”
“I’m surprised they aren’t down
here,” Martin admitted.
“Probably still making sure the boat
doesn’t sink. It’s what they do.”
Kowalski grinned. “Thanks, Doc. For
letting me help.”
Jamieson released his hand. “As long
as he’s Captain, I have a feeling we will continue to need your help, Ski.”
********
Morton stood at the head of the
rack, making his own assessment as Will ticked off what he, Frank and Ski had
done to reverse Lee’s hypothermia to the Admiral. Nelson did not look happy.
Chip knew Jamieson wasn’t.
At these times it was best not to
say anything and listen. Lee was not moving. He had a grey cast to his features
that Chip had only seen one or two times before. Times when they were not sure
Lee was going to live.
“He’s not warming nearly as quickly
as I’d like,” Jamieson was saying, “but Lee is finally responding. He won’t go
into shock again, but I can’t tell you when he’ll be recovered, either. He was
already walking wounded, has been for weeks, and I’m not talking about the
bullet I removed from his shoulder six weeks ago or the ribs I had to rebind
half an hour ago.” Will dragged a tired hand over his forehead. “I frankly
don’t know how he’s still alive. I’ll do my best to keep him that way.”
“Would taking him to a hospital
help?” Nelson asked.
"Normally, yes, but lately,
given my recent observations of this particular patient, I'll say no. Lee has made
a connection to this boat and crew; we may have to use that to pull him
through."
"He is going to make it?"
Nelson asked.
"I
don't know. I'll support him with everything I have here and hope. Lee's pushed
past anything I can judge against. His body will say enough and give out, no
matter what I do."
"From what?" The Admiral
demanded. "You said you reversed his shock."
"Exposure. Exhaustion. Do you
really want the rest of the laundry list --?"
"How about a broken
heart?" Chip offered. "You said it, Will. Lee has a connection
to this boat. Only she's not his anymore."
Nelson scowled. "I knew we
shouldn't have sailed!"
"Do you want to divert to
"I thought Admiral Starke had
to have us in
"I know what I'd like to tell
Starke!" Harry growled low.
Chip found himself grinning and
immediately schooled his expression back to something more appropriate. Across
the bed, he saw the same smile cross Will's features. It, too, disappeared
immediately.
"Um... he is our CO, sir. We
have to be under someone. He does understand our unique status better than most,"
Morton cautioned.
Nelson muttered something distinctly
uncomplimentary as his eyes roved over Crane once more. He drew himself up.
"We’re putting in to
"Aye, sir," Chip
acknowledged. "Flank speed?"
"Is she capable of that?"
"We're buttoned up. I think
she'll hold, but
The Doctor smiled. "They show
up here; I'll put them to work. That can serve to get the word passed."
Nelson turned away. "I'll draft
a signal explaining everything to Jiggs. Don't let him kill the
messenger!"
"
Harry reached out and touched Lee's
arm, the one without the IV. "Stay with us, son. I'll be back later to
check on you."
"Me, too, bud." Morton
pressed the edge of the pillow below his hands.
"Hang
in there."
"I'll keep both of you
updated," Will promised.
"See that you do," Nelson
replied.
********
Chip Morton stopped in the open
The last six weeks had very been
hard for everyone on board. Starke was not helping by dragging out Lee's
reinstatement. Morton had seen Forester's report. The Investigator had
exonerated Lee of any complicity in his abduction and consequent brainwashing.
Nelson wasn't supposed to share it, but he had. If they had only been able to
show it to Lee. Maybe his friend's life would not now be hanging by an IV.
Jamieson stopped writing and looked
up. "How long have you been lurking?" he asked sourly.
"This joint is deserted. Did
you kick everyone else out?" Chip leaned easily against the door
frame, waiting to be invited in.
The Doc sighed. “Ever try to herd
cats?”
Morton smiled. “Once or twice. Doesn't work.”
Will looked up. “I have no progress
to report to you, Captain,” he answered per protocol, “but, if you like to sit
with your crew mate for a while, I have no objection. Talking to him might help.
Lee’s remained stable, even if I can’t get him to improve.”
“Why do you think that is?” Chip
walked into the small space and claimed the empty stool beside the bed that was
probably there for Nelson.
Jamieson glanced at the clipboard.
“Could be complete exhaustion. He’s been through so much in such a short time
and each additional injury has had a detrimental effect on his recovery. I’m
doing all I can. I have to admit I’ve never seen Lee this still for so long.”
“I really thought you’d be fighting to
keep him here by now,” Chip admitted.
“So did I,” Will agreed. “I don’t
like this.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
Morton asked.
Will stood up. “Talk to him. Tell
him about the boat. I don’t think Lee’s coma is so deep that he can’t hear you.
We definitely need him to start responding to something.”
“It’s that serious?”
“It could be,” Will answered.
“Another 24 hours like this and he will start to physically deteriorate. We
certainly don’t need that complication. If you can get Lee to respond to
you, it would really help.”
“The Admiral…” Chip raised an
eyebrow.
“Not so far,” Jamieson admitted. “Lee
hasn’t responded to any of us, which is so not like him. Can I get you some coffee from my office?”
“Not now. I’m turning in after this. How
about you?”
Will cracked a wry smile. “I have
help, remember. I sacked out after dinner. It got a little crowded in here. I’m
fine for a while, but thanks for asking. Talk to Lee. While I'm writing up
notes at the desk, I'll try to find something I haven’t yet tried to raise his body
temperature. That’s not helping, either.”
Chip watched the Doctor walk away. If
anyone could save Lee, it was Jamieson.
Morton moved the stool closer to the bed. Time to do his part. He
might have command, but he definitely did not want to keep it.
********
“He still isn't awake?” Nelson
stopped in the frame of the
Jamieson sighed as he turned on the
stool. "I have to admit, Lee has me this time. I could show you vital
signs…”
Nelson waved a dismissing hand.
“Those numbers only make sense to you.”
Will shrugged. “Lee should be
awake. We don’t have a long history but, he has walked out of here to resume
command with readings lower than these.”
“Do you have any idea why he
won’t wake up?”
Jamieson gave him a sideways glance.
“Do you really want to know what I think?”
“Always, Will.” Nelson stepped
closer to the bed.
“I have no explanation for his
continued unconsciousness other than Lee either can’t or won’t come back… for whatever
reason. And only he knows what that reason is.”
Nelson moved to the edge of the bed.
“Everyone has a breaking point.”
“You tell me. Is having this command
that important to him?” Jamieson looked intently up at him.
Harry
shrugged. “I’m convinced it is. Only I can’t make Jiggs give it back to him.
Or, believe me, I already would have!”
Will clenched his hand around the
rail in frustration. “Another day like this and Lee's muscles will start to
atrophy beyond the ability to resume command, even if he does get it back. I
needed him conscious hours ago.”
“Admiral,” the wall mic spoke.
Nelson walked over and clicked the
mic. “Yes, Sparks.”
“Admiral Starke has come aboard.”
“I’ll be right there.” Nelson turned
to leave. “Sit tight, Will. The solution to your medical conundrum may have arrived!”
“You’d better be right, Harry. Lee
is running out of time.”
********
“Harriman... unhand me!”
Nelson continued to drag the
unwilling Starke down the corridor after him. He'd deal with whatever fallout
there was later. Harry pushed the other Admiral through the
Starke shook himself and
straightened his jacket. “All right. I’m here.”
Harry nudged him closer to the rack.
“Tell Lee he’s reinstated. You’re the reason he’s here. You sent this boat off
on your cockamamie errand before she was ready for sea. Forester cleared him.
You have absolutely no cause to withhold his command any longer!”
“Captain Crane!” Starke barked at
the rack, clearly uncomfortable.
There was no response.
"So he can hear you, Jiggs.”
Harry poked his friend a little harder. “Give him the full Starke.”
Jiggs turned away from the bed.
“What good will that do? The man is unconscious.”
“Actually, he’s dying,” Jamieson
interrupted softly from the foot of the bed. “I've done all I can, physically,
to bring Crane around. He won’t respond.” The chief medical officer lifted one
hand. “So, with all due respect, Admiral Starke, is his death the only way Lee
Crane has left to prove his loyalty to this boat to you?”
“He’ll respond to your
command, Jiggs. I know he will!” Harry urged. “Tell him to stop gold-bricking.”
Starke stared down at the recumbent
officer, pale and unmoving. “Granted, Crane needed to be knocked down a peg or
two, but I don’t want him dead, Harry.”
“Then help me. Yell at him.”
Jiggs squared his shoulders.
“Captain Crane!” Starke bellowed suddenly, in a tone that even made Nelson jump.
“What is the meaning of this? I came here to discuss mission details with you.
And you are flat on your back in
Toward the end of his tirade, Lee
suddenly twitched. Then he rolled his head slightly. First to one side and then
the other, as his breathing quickened.
Jamieson
donned his stethoscope. He laid it against Crane's outstretched wrist,
listening intently.
Starke looked over at Nelson in
shock, totally surprised he had gotten a reaction.
Harry signaled him to wait a moment.
Will removed the instrument.
Crane twitched again, moving
restlessly in the rack.
The Doctor smiled suddenly. “That's
more like it,” he observed.
Harry clapped his friend on the
shoulder. “You've done it, Jiggs!”
“Always could get the pups in line
with that tone,” Starke growled, almost pleased.
“Will?”
The doctor looked up. “Go take care
of our guest, Admiral. I’ll call you when I have something to report.”
Nelson turned to Starke. “Come with
me, Jiggs. Now we’ll discuss why this boat isn’t in
********
Will knew it wouldn't be long before
Lee was conscious. He laid his land lightly on the Captain's shoulder, knowing
his touch would help. Crane was decidedly warmer than he had ever been the past
two days. It had been a long, hard fight to get Lee back from his inadvertent
and nearly fatal third injury.
Crane sighed and his eyelids
fluttered.
Will decided to give him a little
more help. “Easy, Skipper,” he said softly, tightening his grip. “We’ve made it
into
“Jamie?” Lee's voice was barely
above a whisper. He opened his eyes as he shifted slightly from side to side,
trying to identify where he was. “It was – so cold. I couldn’t – fight …”
“You were quite blue by the time
they got you out. Hypothermia I can treat, but you have to help. Are you with
me, Lee?”
“Yes...” Crane’s eyes drooped shut.
“Wiggle something. Anything. It will
help.”
Lee's right leg twitched as he
forced his eyes open again. “Pearl?” He blinked. “We were going to...”
Will shrugged. “With a broken valve that
couldn't be repaired and you down, the Admiral scrubbed the mission. We thought
you weren't going to make it. This is the third time you've been carried
in here in the last six weeks, you know.”
Crane grimaced. “Ribs … still hurt.”
“That broken valve didn't help them
any, but at least you didn't drown. Keep wiggling that leg.”
Lee twitched uncomfortably. “Nothing
wants … to move.”
“Make it. It will.”
Crane rolled his head. “Slug. No
good.”
“Actually, you know who I am; you
know who you are; you know what happened to you. I plan to tell Admiral Starke
you are fit to command this boat again. Wiggle your other leg.”
“How ... can I ... command … if I
can't move?” Lee clenched his teeth as he made his legs roll back and forth on
the mattress.
“We're tied to the dock, at least
until they finish replacing that valve. I plan to have you up and walking by
the time the repair is complete. If you help me.”
Lee shifted his head toward him and
smiled-- a flash of white that boded well for his recovery. “How did the
Admiral manage …?”
“He believes you had no part in your
abduction, and he wants you in command of this boat. Admiral Starke had no
choice but to reinstate you. That is, contingent on my signing off on your
fitness. You keep moving that leg. I’ll go get Frank. We’ll have you sitting up before you know
it.”
********
Chip was sure Lee was not up to
an
Lee was asleep, or at least he
looked asleep. Chip paused for a moment to take inventory before he announced himself.
The fact Lee was now dressed in white pajamas and his plaid robe for walking
around was draped over the foot of the bed meant Ski had come and gone. Crane's
skin tone was still not quite back to olive, but Lee’s breathing was much
deeper than it had been. Chip knew his friend was better.
“Captain?” he asked quietly, to let
Crane know he was there.
Lee’s eyes fluttered open. “Chip,”
he acknowledged in a much stronger voice. Hazel eyes gazed up at him again, but
now they were bright with anticipation. Crane reached out for the clipboard he
held in his hand.
Chip surrendered it, standing easy
as his CO read down what he had compiled for him.
“You are on top of everything,” Lee
observed. He unhooked the pen from the clip and initialed the page. “Good
work.”
“The valve testing should wrap up
tomorrow. Trust me; every other valve on this boat has been thoroughly
inspected for cracks. More than once!”
Crane sighed. “It was one of those
things that happen, Chip.”
Morton shrugged. “Well, this crew is
determined it will never happen again! They have been miserable without you in
command.”
“I’ve missed them, too.”
“Now you have the conn back, you
need to keep it. The Navy did not pay to send you to three different command schools
to do damage control, mister!”
Lee dropped his gaze. “I thought
there was enough time for Ski to get back with the repair kit. Then it cracked,
the alarm sounded, and the watertight sealed.”
“You put him through hell. If you had
died, we probably would have lost one of our best crew members. Not much future
for a rating that lets his Captain get killed, you know.”
Lee sat up in the rack. “It wasn’t
Ski’s fault. I gave him the order.”
Morton reached out to close a hand
around Lee’s arm. “Relax. Ski kept his head. Who did you think filled your
compartment with compressed air, so it couldn’t flood completely? That’s why he
does DC and you don’t!”
Crane slumped back onto his pillow
and winced. “I haven’t been thinking too straight lately, have I?”
“Think?” Morton smiled. “No, bud,
you react. You have good instincts. You’ve saved us all, several times. You
couldn’t kill the Admiral, no matter how much they tried to reprogram you. Stop
beating yourself up. Get better. You'll need to be at the conn when we come
back from
“Dry dock?” Lee bounced up again.
“What’s wrong now?”
Morton smiled. “You proved the
Flying Sub can fly, remember? The Admiral had this great idea to re-fit the
lower observation deck into a hangar for her, since there is no place big
enough in the missile room. He feels that is worth losing a bank of windows. He
said you can use her down time to go to flight school with him. I’ll probably
go as well. Randy’s never supervised part of a reconstruct; it would be good experience
for him.”
“Is Miller ready?”
Chip nodded. “He can handle it once
we have everything ordered and the work crews in place. It’s basically
babysitting after that.”
Crane swung his legs over the side
of the bed. “I think I’m slept out. Jamie says I need to walk, rebuild my
stamina… Help me up?”
Morton extended an elbow for his
friend and Captain to latch onto. “There’s a freshly drawn blueprint of the
nose in the wardroom for you to look at and modify. Do you want to amble down
there?"
Lee turned to look at the rack he
had risen from and gave a theatrical shudder. “Coffee and a drafting pencil
sound great. Let’s go.”
Chip handed his friend his robe from
the foot of the bed and then helped him into it. Crane knotted the sash. Morton
eased Lee out the door, matching his slow, but steady stride. Once Cookie saw
Crane, any leftovers from Starke’s grand dinner would be reheated and served. A
second helping from that feast was fine with him.
The End