Project: Nightmare
by
C. Lyn Barrow, Fidelma C., Liz Martin, Lillian H.
The two
officers stood side by side on the bridge of the enormous submarine, their
attention directed across the expanse of water toward the small island a
half-mile away. It was a tropical
paradise, that was certain, but there was something about it that seemed dark
and ominous even in the full brightness of a South Pacific morning.
“They should
have been back by now,” the taller of the two muttered, frowning into the
brightness as he leaned against the bridge rail, his blue eyes locked on the
vacant beach.
“How late are
they?” the other man asked. He was
shorter, older by perhaps twenty years, and the four stars on the lapels of his
khaki shirt made him an admiral. Fingers
of wind from the sea behind them ran through his rust-colored hair but he
seemed oblivious to this minor dishevelment.
The first
officer, a tall, blond-haired commander, glanced at his watch. “Forty-seven minutes, sir.”
“If it was just
Kowalski I wouldn’t be surprised but even I’ve heard the nickname the crew has
given
Chip Morton was
silent for several seconds, his thoughts invisible behind a notoriously calm
exterior. “And the Skipper, sir. I don’t think he’s been late to anything
more’n a handful of times in his life... unless... without....”
When the commander
fell silent, Nelson nodded in agreement and grunted a response. He appreciated his captain’s dedication to
duty more than most. That was what
troubled him so about the shore party’s tardiness. Lee Crane would do virtually anything in
order to complete a mission and if he was late.... Nelson raised the binoculars that swung
against his chest and held them to his eyes, peering at the distant expanse of
beach that formed a white crescent on the face of the island. He could see the zodiac drawn up on the sand
but there was no evidence of the three men.
“And
“No response at
all, sir. It’s as though his radio
wasn’t even turned on and that’s not like Lee.”
“We’ll give
them a full hour then we’ll send a party ashore to look for them. They can’t be far. That island’s too small....”
“I have a shore
party already standing by, Admiral.”
Nelson lowered
the glasses and glanced at the exec, his craggy face softening with a smile. Morton and Crane had been friends a long time
and with the Morton’s almost intuitive attention to detail his anticipation of
the admiral’s decision was not surprising.
“I should have known, Chip.”
“What can have
gone wrong, sir?” Chip asked after an extended silence. “It should have been simple enough for them
to contact the administrator of the complex and get back to the zodiac in the
time Lee estimated.”
“Hmmmpf,” the admiral
snorted. “I sometimes think that if
there’s any potential trouble within a thousand miles, our captain can find
it.”
Now it was
Morton’s turn to nod in agreement.
“I never got
the lowdown on what this research complex was studying, sir. Anything we should be concerned about?” he
asked then.
Nelson
shrugged, gesturing eloquently with his hands.
“Well, I certainly didn’t think there was or I wouldn’t have put our men
ashore, now would I?”
“Uh, no, sir,”
Morton replied, certain that the admiral’s sharp reply only betrayed his own
concerns.
Nelson heaved a
great sigh of resignation. “It’s just a
team of scientists....”
“Oh,
scientists,” Chip groaned. Their track
record with scientists had never been good.
Nelson tipped
his head to one side and nodded before he continued. “Nothing sinister, Chip, I assure you. They’re here on a grant from Primoris Labs,
one of the largest drug companies in the
Chip nodded and
grunted noncommittally once more. “Then
why are they late?”
Nelson threw up
his hands once more, this time in exasperation, although he knew the question
was rhetorical. “If I knew that, Mr. Morton,
would I be standing here looking for them to appear?”
“Of course not,
sir.”
“Call your
shore party, Chip. I’m tired of
waiting.”
“Aye, sir.”
Morton turned
and dropped through the access trunk into the control room of the Seaview. The crew on station there looked up
expectantly but he shook his head, striding to the nearest microphone, which he
snatched up and double-squawked.
“Shore party,
lay up to the deck,” he barked and knew that the men were already in motion
somewhere aft of the control room. The
men who had gone ashore were well liked by the entire crew, the captain as well
as the enlisted men, and everyone aboard felt a proprietary interest in finding
out why they had been delayed.
“No sign yet,
Mr. Morton?” Sharkey asked as he approached, his tone uncommonly apprehensive.
“There wasn’t
as of two minutes ago, Chief. But maybe
no news is good news. We’ll find out
soon. I’m going back up. Mr. O’Brien, resume the conn.”
The young
lieutenant nodded quickly. He had been
about to ask the same question as the chief but was relieved it had been the
more experienced COB who had broached the subject that concerned them all. A moment later the exec was clambering back
up the sail ladder and Chief Sharkey had moved to stand beside O’Brien.
“Mr. Morton’s
pretty worried, isn’t he?” the
lieutenant commented absently.
“Yeah. It’s not like the skipper to be out of touch
like this and everyone’s on edge on account of it. But don’t you worry, Mr. O’Brien, him and Ski
and Tommy’ll be back soon all safe and sound.
You just wait and see. Just wait
and see....” Sharkey continued the
litany of optimism long after he ambled away from the lieutenant’s side.
The second
shore party was emerging from the foredeck hatch to assemble and await orders
when Morton returned to the bridge. He
noticed at once the change in Nelson’s posture, his body leaning forward
eagerly toward the island. He had the
binoculars at his eyes and the exec turned, following the direction of the admiral’s
gaze.
“They finally
showed up on the beach, Chip, but something’s wrong.”
“What is it,
sir?” Chip asked, cursing himself for neglecting to retrieve a pair of
binoculars from the control room while he was there.
“I don’t know
for sure.” Then, “Get the shore party over there now!”
Morton
stretched forward over the bridge wall. “Chief
Lynch! Lay over to the beach and lend the captain and his party a hand! On the
double!” he called to the security chief.
Three minutes
later the zodiac had been launched and was carrying the armed team of six
toward the beach. Nelson reluctantly
surrendered the binoculars to the exec and Morton focused intently on the first
zodiac pulled up on the sand. He could
see the three men he sought easily enough; one of them, Kowalski, was sprawled
awkwardly in the sand a few yards from the raft, while it appeared that Crane
was supporting a staggering
Without
preamble the admiral retrieved the binoculars, his expressive mouth narrowed in
anxiety. Morton glanced briefly at him
but his attention returned to the men in the beached zodiac. As executive officer he was concerned for
every member of the crew but, personally, Captain Lee Crane had been his best
friend for nearly half his life and that friend was in obvious trouble.
Morton frowned,
the only outward evidence of his uneasiness, although his breathing was a
little quicker than usual and his fists were clenched at his sides. He should have sent a corpsman with the
security team, he rebuked himself. He
was well aware of Lee’s propensity toward trouble and injury. If he had his druthers he’d never let the man
off the boat again! No, he amended quickly.
Lee was too good at what he did to limit him like that. Whether he was at the CON or on an ONI
mission or on what had appeared to be a routine liaison mission to an innocuous
facility on a no-name island, Chip Morton knew Lee was the best man for the job. Admiral Nelson had said it frequently; he had
wanted nothing less than the best crew, the best exec and the best captain for
his dream-come-true, Seaview, and he had gotten his wish, at least
insofar as the captain was concerned, Morton thought loyally.
Both men
continued to watch in abject silence as the second zodiac neared the shore and
the security team bounded out, some into the water, others across the zodiac
bow onto the sand. Two of them stood
guard, their weapons held ready, while the remaining four examined the
motionless men.
“Commander
Morton?”
Morton flipped
open the door and snatched the microphone off its hook. “Morton here.”
“The shore
party’s on the horn for you, sir. Go
ahead, Mr. Morton.”
“Lynch, what’s
their condition?” he asked, astonished at the thinness of his own voice. Nelson took a step nearer.
“They’re alive,
sir. No apparent wounds. But they’re unconscious. All three of them.”
Nelson snatched
away the microphone. “No explanation for
their situation?”
“None that I
can tell, Admiral,” Lynch continued. “We’ll
get them back aboard but you might want to have the Doc standing by. They’re totally unresponsive, sir.”
“Just get them
aboard. We’ll take care of things here,”
Nelson barked. He double-squawked the
microphone. “
“I’m here,
Admiral. I’ve heard the scuttlebutt and
I’m on my way.”
Nelson broke
the connection and replaced the mic in the radio box. “It never ceases to amaze me how fast
information gets around this boat,” he observed quietly but his agitation was
evident in the icy edge in his voice.
It seemed only
moments later that Dr. Will Jamieson
joined them on the bridge and his team of corpsmen was emerging from the deck
hatch.
“Looks like we
just made it in time,” Jamieson muttered.
The three men
climbed down from the bridge to the deck as the two zodiacs touched the nearly
stationary bulk of the Seaview. The
corpsmen were there instantly, helping to lift the unconscious men to the deck
of the submarine, placing each of them on stretchers. Jamieson motioned his two chief assistants,
Frank and Ben, to see to the ratings while he knelt beside the silent captain. He quickly took Crane’s vitals and checked
the lean body over for any sign of wounds, then conferred in muted tones with
the corpsmen.
“Temp is up,
heart rate and blood pressure elevated, pupils contracted,” he revealed at last. “It may be a poisoning, Admiral, but I won’t
know until I can perform some tests. Any
idea which one of them went down first?”
“It looked like
Kowalski was already unconscious when Lee came out of the jungle with
“Get on with
it, Doc!” Nelson interrupted. “I want
some answers, fast. If I can’t get them
from Crane I want them from you. Understood?”
Jamieson looked
up at him, nodded grimly and rose to his feet.
“Get them below, Frank, and draw some blood. Start with the captain. If he was the last to succumb then he may be
the least affected.”
Jamieson turned
to face the admiral. “If this is some
sort of contagion we could be in very serious trouble, Admiral.”
“They were only
out of contact for three hours, Will. Do
you honestly believe they could have contracted some illness that incapacitated
them like this in so short a time?”
“Not ordinarily. I think it might be advisable for you to send
a team in full HAZMAT gear to check out the research facility. If our men are down those scientists could be
as well.”
“I’ll see to
it, Admiral,” Morton said quickly and started to turn. “Doc, keep me informed of the captain’s
condition,” he said, his tone even and controlled, though his hands were once
more clenched at his sides.
“Of course, Commander. As soon as we know anything at all.”
With a quick
nod Morton hurried back toward the bridge, although he was conscious of
stretchers being carefully lowered into the Seaview and out of sight
through the forward hatch. He descended
the access trunk swiftly but this time when he retrieved the mic from its hook
he was oblivious to those around him. The
abnormally pale faces of the three men remaining in his mind, Lee’s
unresponsiveness more than a little alarming.
He began to issue his orders for the HAZMAT team, knowing that command
of the Seaview was now his for the foreseeable future and he was not
happy about the situation at all.
Nelson followed
the doctor and the men bearing the stretchers aft toward the
“A data disk,”
he said aloud, surprised.
“What’s that,
Admiral?” Chief Lynch asked. “Something
we should be concerned about?”
Nelson found
himself smiling humorlessly as Lynch echoed Morton’s words almost exactly. “I don’t know, Chief. I’m just surprised that this facility had the
capability to make these. It’s pretty
new technology.”
“How can we
tell what’s on it, sir? Maybe there’s something that would help the Skipper and
the guys?” Lynch asked again.
“I have a
reader in my quarters. I’ll look into it. I imagine it’s a record of their research. These little disks can hold a lot of
information.”
“Don’t think
I’m familiar with them, Admiral.”
“They’re new,
Chief. In the years to come though, I
imagine they’ll be quite common. I
suppose it isn’t so surprising for this station to have one, after all. They were richly financed and it would enable
them to travel much lighter, bringing lighter recording equipment.” He slipped
the disk into his own shirt pocket. “Doc?”
“Not much
change yet, Admiral,” Jamieson answered, looking up from his patient. “Their temperatures are soaring, though, and
we’ll have to deal with that even if we don’t find anything we can treat in
their blood.”
“Ad’mril.” Crane’s
weak, strained voice took both men by surprise and they turned back to the captain’s
side.
“Captain, don’t
try to talk,” Jamieson cautioned but Lee merely shook his head, letting it rock
back and forth on the flat pillow.
“It’s all
right, son. What is it?” Nelson
answered, his voice urgent but somehow retaining a calm he did not feel.
“Station
empty,” Crane managed, perspiration beading his forehead with the effort. “All gone...”
“They’re dead?”
Jamieson blurted out.
“Gone. Just...
gone. Boat’s at dock.” His arm
rose, his right hand groping at his chest for the shirt pocket that was not
there. “Disk.”
“I have it, Lee. What happened to you?”
“Don’t know.... Sick...
On way back....then…”
“Admiral,
please,” Jamieson pleaded, his fingers on Crane’s wrist. “This isn’t helping him at all.”
“No, but it may
help the rest of us, Will. Still, I
think I’ve heard enough. Lee, rest, son. I’ll take it from here.”
“Aye... sir....” the captain managed, then shuddered
and his body relaxed once more, his eyes closing.
Nelson
hesitated, brushing the inky hair back from the sweaty brow. “Take care of him, Doc. All of them,” the admiral corrected quickly
but he was fooling no one. They all knew
the close friendship that had grown up between the designer of the Seaview
and her captain over the past few years.
The admiral
left the
“Mr. Morton,”
he summoned, and Chip straightened at the charting table and turned, a flash of
dread sweeping across the young commander’s face. Chief Sharkey dogged Nelson’s footsteps as he
halted in front of Morton. When he spoke
again, Nelson pitched his voice a little louder than usual so that he could be
heard. “The captain regained
consciousness for a minute or two, Chip.
He claims that the five men that were housed at the complex have all
vanished. No bodies, no evidence of
departure, just gone. Make sure that
your shore party is fully protected and that they take a full range of samples,
air, soil, plant, and water. If there’s
something there, either natural or manmade that can bring our men down this way
and may be responsible for the disappearance of the scientists there, I want to
know about it ASAP.”
“Aye, sir,”
Morton replied. The news that Lee had
awakened, even for a moment, was good news, very good news indeed.
“I want to talk
to the HAZMAT team as soon as they reach the complex, Chip. Make sure they have operable radios.”
“Did Lee say
why he hadn’t contacted us when they first started getting sick?” Morton asked
softly.
Nelson raised
his left hand to his forehead, wiping it absently, perhaps unaware that it was
a telltale sign of the level of his distress.
“No, he didn’t. He... wasn’t able to say much.”
The admiral
brushed past Morton then and headed for the spiral stairway, his steps more
hurried than normal, enough so that he stumbled on the third step, righted
himself, then continued. Morton watched
in concern then motioned Sharkey to his side.
“Chief, lay
down to the galley and have Cookie mix up a batch of that tea the admiral likes
and take it up to him. And... well....” Morton broke off, licking dry lips
before he continued. “Just make sure the
OOM’s doing all right, will you?”
“Aye Aye, Mr. Morton. I’ve got it covered.”
Nelson entered
his quarters slowly, his brilliant mind spinning faster than his body could
keep up. He would like to think that was
why he had stumbled on the stairs but he knew otherwise. The three men had looked so bad. How was it, he wondered, that they had become
ill so quickly. It had to be some sort
of poisoning; but if that was the case why were the scientists missing? He knew
they had not been removed from the island.
He had spoken with the Vice President of Primoris Labs the day they
sailed and he doubted anyone could have reached this little, out of the way
island before Seaview. The
Primoris team had a twenty-five foot cabin cruiser for emergencies but Lee had
indicated that it was still there at the dock on the other side of the island,
where the water was too shallow for the Seaview’s draft.
He removed the
disk from his shirt pocket and placed it carefully on his desk. Such things were supposed to be relatively
durable but it had already taken more than it was designed to withstand. He opened the storage cabinet behind his desk
just below the TV monitor and extracted a small carton about the size of a hat
box and set it on his chair. He opened
the lid and withdrew the disk-reader, placing it in the center of his desk
before he shoved the box aside and sat down.
He plugged the cord into a receptacle and pressed the button to activate
it. He had only used it a time or two,
back at the Institute, but it was simple enough; a computer that read these
small disks instead of the huge tapes they used aboard or even the large floppy
disks of some other computers.
He retrieved
the disk and dropped it into the reader, shoving the tray home, then sat back
to wait. He was impatient but he was
sure this was not going to be a speedy read.
If it was what he expected to find, reports and perhaps even
spreadsheets and diagrams, it would take careful examination before he could
make any sense of it at all. And even
then it might not provide any information that would be helpful to the three
men in
“Admiral?”
It was
Jamieson’s softly spoken voice over the speaker on his desk. He depressed the button. “Yes, Will, what is it?”
“Storekeeper 2nd
Class Thomas Carlton... just died, sir.”
Nelson made
some sort of response and switched off the speaker. He sat for nearly a full minute just staring
at the speaker box on his desk without really seeing it. What had Lee and the others walked
into, he wondered frantically, then he turned his full attention back to
the disk-reader, determined to discover whatever clues might reside there to
help save the lives of the sick men.
Chip Morton was
not a happy man. His azure blue eyes
stared sightlessly out the Herculite windows as he braced his arm on the
bulkhead in the Observation Nose. He
badly wanted to go down to
However that
didn’t mean it was easily done. Chip had
lost count of the times since Crane had taken over command of Seaview
that he’d stood in this very position, concern for his injured friend
overwhelming him but duty preventing him from being where he wanted to be... at Lee’s side. Chip grimaced, absently running his left hand
through his short-cropped blond hair, remembering the mortally offended
expression on Crane’s face when Chip had exasperatedly christened him a trouble
magnet. Lee had stoutly refuted it. Then, glancing at his long time pal from
under inky black lashes, had grinned sheepishly and admitted it often seemed
that way. Lee had insisted that he
didn’t look for trouble and defended himself by pointing out that he always
managed to get himself out of it, didn’t he? At which Morton had snorted in a
most un-officer like fashion, suggesting that it was he, the admiral and Seaview
who usually pulled the Skipper out of danger, frequently after he’d been
injured!
Chip sighed,
rubbing a weary hand across his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose to
relieve the ache behind his eyes. It had
been a long day and, his growling stomach reminded him, he’d missed lunch and
dinner. But, uncharacteristically, he
didn’t feel like eating. How Lee would
rib him if he knew! One of the major bones of contention between the senior
officers was his healthy appetite and Lee’s sparse one. Chip had first met the skinny, almost
seventeen year old, Crane on their first day at
Chip sighed
again, oblivious to the fact that his unease was affecting the men on duty. Patterson and Reilly exchanged worried
glances. It was unlike the usually stoic
XO to show his feelings, especially in the control room. Morton was famous for his cool unflappable
exterior even in the face of extreme danger.
It was this calm demeanor and implacable assurance that inspired the
absolute unquestioning trust of the junior officers and ratings on the giant
craft and made Morton one of the best executive officers in or out of the Fleet. If the XO could be fazed enough to show his
concern then it bode ill for the immediate future. The news of
Pulling himself
forcefully out of his depressing reverie Morton tuned in to the absolute
silence of the control room intercepting a couple of apprehensive glances among
the watch. Immediately drawing himself
to his full height he strode purposefully towards the plot table knowing
instinctively that the rare breach in his impassive facade had been partly
responsible for the somber mood. And
knew it was up to him to return the duty watch to their usual sharpness. His authoritative blue gaze swept the room,
lingering briefly at each manned sector.
“Look to your
stations, men,” he ordered with his usual commanding poise. “We wouldn’t want the skipper to find us at
less than our best now, would we?”
The rhetorical
question was enough to have the men sitting straighter, eyes once again back on
their duty stations; the mere mention of disappointing their beloved captain
sufficient to sharpen their concentration.
Morton’s
attention was drawn to the opposite end of the room and the bustling stocky
figure of the COB as Sharkey came forward.
“The HAZMAT
team is approaching the aft sail hatch, Mr. Morton.” He reported. “I was told you wanted to be informed when
they returned, sir.”
”Thanks, Chief. Make sure they follow all decontamination
procedures before boarding and have them check in with Doc as a precaution.” The
XO ordered. “We don’t know what we’re
facing here yet so I’m not gonna take any chances. Get their samples straight to the admiral’s
lab and inform him of the team’s return.”
The chief
merely nodded, perceptive enough of his superior’s mood not to engage him in
conversation, and moved aft to comply with his instructions. Only a short time with Seaview, the
older COB had initially resented taking orders from the impossibly young
command crew but in recent months, and following several hazardous missions,
had grown to respect both senior officers.
His undying loyalty would always be to Nelson but he’d come to like both
Crane and Morton as men as well as superiors.
“No need,
Chief.” The gruff smoky voice preceded the footsteps on the spiral staircase. Morton straightened to near attention, his
eyes sharpening with concern at the drawn look on the admiral’s features, the
mussed red hair and the weary slump of the broad shoulders. “Consider me informed. And Chief,” he called urgently after the
departing COB, “I want Mr. Morton’s orders followed explicitly. Explicitly, understood?”
“Aye, aye,
sir.” Sharkey’s tone was stiff. He
openly worshipped the four-star flag officer and resented the implied
criticism.
Nelson’s voice
softened, knowing the COB’s loyalty to the boat and himself. “Francis, we need to take every precaution
until we know what we’ve got here.”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir. You can trust me, sir.” The garrulous chief
affirmed before leaving the room to ensure the orders were carried out to the
letter.
Nelson cast a
wryly amused glance towards his First Officer, his amusement abruptly
disappearing as he discerned the anxious look in the blue eyes. The admiral exhaled audibly. He needed to finish reading the notes he’d
printed from the data disc and bring the XO up to date on what he’d found but
wasn’t looking forward to it. Morton
already looked beyond exhaustion. His
superior knew the thorough Officer had been up most of the previous night
following a wiring problem in the Circuitry Room discovered by the Delta watch. It should have been dealt with by Lt. Madison,
who’d had the conn, but the lieutenant was relatively new and had needed the
confidence boost provided by Morton. And
today had been incredibly busy. It
occurred to Nelson that he hadn’t seen the XO in the wardroom for either lunch
or dinner and wondered if the man had had any down time at all.
Unfortunately,
if what he’d read so far was correct, it was unlikely Chip would get any for
the foreseeable future.
He motioned the
blond officer to the relative privacy of the observation nose and deposited the
folders he carried on the table inviting the younger man to sit. Morton dropped obediently into a chair,
concern evident in his taut posture as he leaned forward, propping his elbows
on the table, hands clenched together.
“Is it Lee,
sir? Kowalski?” he asked, dreading a
positive response.
“No, Chip, no
change there. Kowalski still hasn’t recovered
consciousness. Lee appears to be
sleeping although Jamie is still concerned at his high temperature and blood
pressure and the nature of the sleep. Doc
is preparing to autopsy
Nelson tapped
the folders he’d placed on the table but, before he could speak, was
interrupted by Cookie who came forward to lay a tray bearing sandwiches,
cookies and a large coffee pot on the table.
The XO’s
eyebrows rose in query. “Mr. Morton,
sir, your very busy schedule didn’t allow you to join us for lunch or dinner
today. I thought you might be hungry so
I took the liberty of preparing something that you could eat on the run, so to
speak.” The rotund Cook’s almost defiant
stance brooked no argument and Chip graciously acknowledged the gesture,
inwardly warmed by the sentiment.
“Thanks,
Cookie, I’m not really very hungry right now but the coffee is most welcome.” Chip
picked up the large pot, mutely asking the admiral if he wanted to partake. At the other’s nod, Chip quickly poured two
cups of the fragrant brew.
The boat’s
senior Chef sniffed derisively - one of his best customers not hungry? Things
must be serious if Morton couldn’t eat. “If there’s something else you’d like me to
prepare for you, sir….”
He tailed off
as Morton took a large gulp of the restorative coffee - and barely resisted
spitting it straight back out! “What the hell is this?” The XO’s face was a
study!
“It’s the
caramel flavored specialty coffee you brought aboard for the captain, sir.” The
bewildered Cook answered somewhat hesitantly.
“I thought, seeing as how you said he liked it so much, that you must
too.”
A tide of red
shot up the blond’s fair skin as a guffaw broke from the admiral who instantly
detected Morton’s retaliatory hand and the brunt of the prank was obviously
their beleaguered captain who lived on java, the stronger the better. Morton, Nelson knew, had a surprisingly
wicked sense of humor and his retribution knew no bounds. Now it remained to be seen what the Skipper
had done to tick his XO off. That had to
be a story worth hearing!
The admiral
carefully placed his untasted cup on the table.
“Cookie, I think Mr. Morton would prefer a pot of your usual diesel
oil,” he teased, watching the Cook bristle.
“It’s going to be a long night and I don’t think the ‘caramel flavored’
version is going to do the job of keeping us alert.”
The offended
Cook swept up the pot and, glaring at the XO accusingly, retreated to his
galley to brew a fresh pot of regular coffee, chuckling inwardly at the antics
the two senior officers indulged in.
Back in the
observation nose the admiral was grateful for the unintentional by-play
acknowledging that it had been noted by the duty watch and had considerably
lightened the atmosphere.
“I’m sure I’ll
hear the story behind this in due course, Mr. Morton!” He was tempted to
chortle at the endearing blush that swept across the exec’s cheeks making him
look much younger than his thirty-five years.
“Aye, sir!” the
harried XO returned and Nelson glimpsed the depth of the anguish reflected in
his light blue eyes as the First Officer tried to regain his composure. Feeling infinitely sorry for what he was
going to heap on the younger man, Harry came to a quick decision.
“Go visit Lee,
Chip. Go on. I know you need to. You’ve held things together all day here. Go see him.
Then come back, eat a sandwich and drink some ‘real’ coffee. I’ll take over for you here. Check on the HAZMAT team while you’re in
“I can’t…. Aye, sir!” Taking the opportunity afforded
him, Chip hopped up and lay aft to Seaview’s
Jamieson looked
up swiftly as the corridor door opened, breath releasing in a huff as the XO
entered. He should have known Morton
wouldn’t be able to contain himself, wanting...
needing... to verify the
patients’ condition. The exec stopped
first at the gurney holding Kowalski, the senior rating still unconscious but
for no good reason that Doc could determine.
His body was surrounded with cold packs in an attempt to bring down his
temperature; his face was flushed, his breathing labored. Morton patted Kowalski on the shoulder before
moving to the second table. Crane
appeared to be sleeping but not entirely peacefully, lying on his back instead
of on his side as usual, which looked unnatural to his best friend. A soft blanket was pulled up to mid chest and
Chip could see the beads of sweat appear on Lee’s brow as the captain moved
uneasily in his sleep. Chip looked
around and encountered a hand pushing a sterile tray with a cold compress
towards him. Chip flashed a rare smile
in gratitude at the corpsman and laid the cool cloth across Lee’s forehead then
wiped it gently down his cheeks. Crane
murmured sleepily in appreciation and Chip soothed him with soft words,
watching his friend settle back down on the pillow.
“He knows
you’re here. He recognizes your voice.” Jamie
joined the worried exec at his Skipper’s bedside. “That’s good even though this is a more
natural sleep than Kowalski’s.”
“How can you
tell?” Morton was amazed at the doctor’s skill in interpreting what looked to
him like unsettled movements.
“Remember I’ve
been observing him for several hours now.
He hasn’t reacted to anything or anyone the way he has to your voice. He’s been agitated for the last while, not
ready to wake up but not in a restful sleep.
You being here, talking to him, appears to have reached his subconscious. Look how much easier he sleeps now.” Jamieson
watched as Crane burrowed further into the pillow and his previously furrowed
brow cleared. “It’s as if he knows that
he can afford to let go now you’re here.
You two are so attuned that he can sleep easier knowing you’re here. I can’t explain it any other way, Chip. You guys have been friends a long time. It’s a total trust issue, I guess.”
Morton’s gaze
rested on the sleeping captain as he blinked sudden moisture from his eyes. Doc’s words caught him unguarded and he
strove to put in place the mask he habitually wore while on duty. Jamieson wasn’t fooled. He knew the affection that existed between
the command staff, Nelson looking on the captain and the exec as ‘his boys’,
having watched them through the Academy and progressed their individual careers
thereafter, and Crane and Morton having a relationship closer than many
brothers. Jamie too had become sucked
in, having had to treat the three worst patients on the sub on several
momentous occasions. Nelson was bad,
churlish and impatient; Morton was worse, openly defiant and allergic to so
many drugs he was practically impossible to medicate; while Crane, Jamie threw
his eyes to heaven, only comatose could he hope to keep the boat’s captain for
any length in
Right now,
Jamie wished his worst patient was capable of giving him hell. He wanted Crane to wake up and begin sassing
him about getting out. He hated having
no answers for Chip or the admiral. Which
reminded him…
“Chip, I’ve
cleared the HAZMAT team. They completed
the required decontamination routine and I’ve checked them out. There seem to be no adverse affects. However, just in case, I’ve confined them to
quarters and Frank will check on them every two hours throughout the night.”
The XO
appreciated the clear concise report. Nodding
at the doctor’s thoroughness.
“Now I’ve got
an autopsy to perform.” He saw the exec’s already pale and strained complexion
blanch and rested a comforting hand on the young commander’s arm, knowing Chip
was thinking it could have been Lee’s body about to be autopsied. Jamie shook his arm lightly to regain the
XO’s attention. “Maybe this will give us
the answers we need. Now, you look beat. Why don’t you get some food and rest and try
to check back here every couple of hours and talk with Lee. Maybe you could send Pat and Reilly down to
try the same with Ski.”
Morton scrubbed
a hand over his tired face. “Sorry,
Jamie, but thinking about what you’re gonna do just cost me my appetite! And
I’ve got to meet with the admiral now...
he’s gonna bring me up to speed on what he found on the disk Lee
retrieved from the
Morton entered
the control room and immediately sought out the admiral. Seeing him sequestered in the observation
nose going over his files Chip signaled to Sharkey, conveying Doc’s request for
Reilly and Patterson to spell each other at Kowalski’s side.
“Aye, sir, I’ll
get right on it!” The COB fluffed importantly and Chip bit back a wry grin,
maintaining his taut composure with difficulty.
The shorter chief headed for the sonar and radar stations as Chip went
directly to the nose.
“Close the
crash doors and sit down, Chip.”
The admiral
didn’t look up from his perusal of the papers in front of him, absently drawing
on the cigarette held between his index and middle fingers and Chip noticed the
overflowing ashtray and the acrid stench in the air not entirely scrubbed by
the air revitalization system. He made a mental note to himself to have the
duty crews boost the pre-air cleaner in the admiral’s cabin and lab!
“Have a
sandwich and some coffee, Commander. We
can’t afford for you to be at less than your peak just now.” Nelson pushed the
plate of sandwiches towards his exec and poured him a cup of the regular brew
Cookie had brought back.
Chip gratefully
sipped the strong dark brew but the very sight of the sandwiches turned his
stomach. The pale pink ham sandwiched
between the white bread reminded him of the severe leg injury Lee had sustained
late last year, the badly torn flesh pink between the white gristle and bone
exposed by the wound. The chicken tikka
looked blood red and bile rose in his throat.
Knowing he would have to appease the admiral by taking at least one of
the sandwiches and forcing it down he went for a seemingly innocuous egg salad
triangle. Biting into the squishy mess
reminded him of things he would rather forget and he reluctantly swallowed the
near chewed-to-death mouthful before placing the remainder aside and downing
the extra strength coffee Cookie was renowned for.
Nelson saw his exec
pick up the sandwich, play with it and replace it mostly uneaten. He could readily sympathize with Chip. Nelson had come to love Lee Crane like the
son he had never had and, by extension, his son of the heart’s ‘big brother’. Chip was a plank owner of Seaview, unlike Lee. Harry had wanted only the best for his boat
and had approached the very proper Lt. Cdr. Morton, number 2 in his year at
Nelson had
watched the young Charles Philip Morton, followed his progress as he had
Crane’s, had seen the sheer waste of talent and abhorred it. Upon realizing his dream and building
Seaview, he had sought out the desk bound officer and offered him the posting
of a lifetime. Unbeknownst to Nelson,
Chip had, at the time, been giving serious thought to resigning his commission,
finding his current post untenable. Morton
wasn’t a political animal and the Pentagon position was torture for a Naval
officer who felt the call of the Ocean.
The blond
inhaled deeply, beginning to feel the caffeine rush from the coffee stimulate
his tired nerve endings. He soon
perceived the older man stiffening, the cigarette stilling in his hand as he
read the print outs in front of him. Carefully
watching the admiral’s body language and the way Nelson was avoiding eye
contact with him, Chip guessed that whatever had been on the disc Lee had
brought back was damning.
Never one to
procrastinate, Morton jumped straight in.
It had to be beyond bad for the usually confident admiral to display
such aberrant behavior.
“The disc, sir. Did you get anything from it?”
“I managed to
retrieve some of the notes the head scientist, Dr. Kenneth Aldemar, had accumulated on the
project they were working on.” The admiral’s
voice shook as he turned over the final page.
“The vitamin
supplements?” Chip prodded; this was like pulling teeth.
Nelson slowly
raised his head from his apparent study of the papers on the table and
despairing pale blue eyes made contact with confused azure ones. Chip drew in a harsh breath at the expression
in those pale orbs. Never had he seen
such a beaten look in his superior’s eyes.
Nelson appeared to have aged a decade during the past several minutes. Morton had initially been too worried about
Crane to recognize that the Old Man’s strained appearance went beyond anguish
for their stricken friend. This was
closer to sheer terror.
“Vitamin
supplements!” The words were bitten out between gritted teeth and Chip jumped
in shock and alarm as the admiral slowly clenched his right hand into a first
and brought it down suddenly, violently to hit the table resoundingly. “That was their cover. They did just enough work on it to keep
Primoris happy and unsuspecting. And out
of their hair! No, they were working on something far more deadly and, if it’s
the last thing I do in my life, I will see to it that they do not succeed.” The
vow was wrung from between bloodless lips as Nelson’s skin paled to a sickly
grey.
Seriously
worried now for the OOM., Chip reached for the mic and double-clicked to clear
the channel. “
Nelson shook
his head gravely at the desperate concern on his exec’s... Lee’s exec’s... face. “Belay
it, Chip, it’s too late already.”
Fumbling the
mic back into its housing, Chip could feel his heart rate increase and the
headache return behind his eyes. “Admiral,
sir, you’re scaring me now! What is it? What were they working on? And why is
it too late?”
“It’s too late
because
“Perfected WHAT?”
the almost-at-his-wits-end XO all but shouted.
“The virus
they’ve been working on for the past two years.
Airborne but containable, active for a specified period of time then the
molecules in the air break down the individual components and it disperses,
totally safe.” The admiral’s tone was
bleaker than Chip had ever heard and he saw Nelson’s hand shake as he lit yet
another cigarette.
“Then the
HAZMAT team…?”
“Completely
safe. And the air and soil samples they
brought will be absolutely useless. No,
our only hope now is if Jamie finds anything untoward during the autopsy.”
Chip’s brain
was whirling, on information overload, and he dropped his head into his hands
to gather his scattered thoughts. “Then
Lee… Kowalski….?”
“Will surely
die if we can’t find a vaccine or antidote to the virus.”
“How do we do
that when we don’t even know what this virus is? What do Aldemar’s notes say
about it?”
“Nothing. The disc Lee retrieved doesn’t contain any of
his research data. If I had to guess I’d
say this disc was left behind by mistake when the science team took their
leave.” Gaining his feet, Nelson began to pace, smoking furiously but Morton
could see resolve returning to the haggard craggy features. “Chip, at first light I want the
Master-at-Arms to take an armed party ashore and comb that Island for a sealed
room or underground bunker. Something
big enough for five people to hide out for a pre-determined length of time.”
“You think the
scientists are still on the
“I’m convinced
of it, Chip!” The words exploded from
the admiral and Morton shook his head slowly, his highly intelligent brain
shunning the implications.
“But that would
mean….”
“That our men
were used as guinea pigs. Lee, Kowalski
and
Eventually the
admiral insisted Chip find time to grab some sleep. Chip had wanted to argue, especially when he
found out that Nelson himself was planning on spending his night working in the
lab, but Nelson eventually pulled rank and, admitting to himself that a few
hours of sleep would do him the world of good, Chip headed for his cabin.
It was about
3.00 a.m. when he was woken by a tapping
at his cabin door. Instantly awake he
called out, “Come.”
Chip’s heart
leapt when he saw his visitor, Steve Fraser, one of Jamie’s corpsmen. “What’s the problem, Steve?”
“I’m sorry to
have to wake you, Mr. Morton, but Doc asked if you could come down to
Chip decided
not to ask why he was needed, he’d find out soon enough. “Tell him I’ll be right there.” Even as he
watched Fraser disappear Chip was moving towards his small head. Three minutes for a quick shower to wake
himself up, three minutes to pull a fresh uniform out and on; Chip was in
“Chip! Get over
here.”
Jamieson, still
in the gear Chip knew he used for autopsies, was standing beside Lee, trying to
stop the captain from rolling off the gurney.
That Lee’s sleep was anything but peaceful was immediately obvious to
Chip but his relief at seeing Lee alive almost brought a smile to his lips. Chip hurried to Jamieson’s side and gripped
Lee’s shoulders. His friend was tossing
and turning, sweat beading his face and chest.
“What’s happening, Jamie?”
“I’m not really
sure. I told you yesterday that his
sleep was disturbed, well, it’s just getting worse. Steve called me from the back because they’re
both so agitated. We’ve had to use
restraints on Ski,” Jamieson nodded towards the bunk where an equally disturbed
Kowalski was tossing and turning as much as the restraints would allow. “I thought you might be able to say something
to calm him down.”
Chip picked up
the damp cloth from a bowl of icy water on the table drawn up to the gurney. “I’ll do what I can, Jamie.”
Jamieson stood
back and wiped a bead of moisture from his own brow. It had been hard work keeping Lee on the
gurney and he was berating himself for not having moved Lee to a bunk earlier. Chip meanwhile used the cloth to wipe the
beads of sweat from Lee’s face and then gripped his captain’s upper arm hard. “Lee, it’s Chip. You’re back on Seaview. Calm down, Lee.” A frown furrowed Chip’s
brow, Lee seemed to be muttering something to himself but, even when he leaned
in close, Chip couldn’t make out the words.
From the corner of his eye Chip saw that Jamieson and Fraser were
putting cooling packs alongside Kowalski’s body in an effort to get his
temperature down. Then they moved to Lee
and did the same for him. Chip continued
his ministrations with the cool cloth.
Finished with
placing the ice packs, Jamieson approached the gurney with a needle. He saw Chip watching him. “I’m going to take another blood sample,
maybe I’ll find something I missed before.”
Chip nodded but
as soon as Jamieson grabbed Lee’s arm and tried to straighten it, the captain
found the strength to sit up and the mutterings Chip had been unable to
decipher turned into yelling. Chip had
to grab Lee and wrap his arms around his shoulders to keep him from falling to
the floor. “Lee! Lee, calm down. You’re safe, you’re on Seaview. Jamie, he’s shaking, surely he can’t be
cold!”
Jamieson had
dropped his needle onto the table by the gurney and grabbed a hold of Lee’s
legs, more interested in seeing that his patient didn’t fall from the gurney
than in getting his blood sample. “Just
hold onto him!” Jamieson spoke sharply. Chip
was somewhat taken aback by the tone but realized that the doctor was no doubt
frustrated by his inability to find if not a cure, at least a way to alleviate
his patient’s suffering.
There was a
brief silence, broken only by Lee’s breathing.
Jamieson noticed though that Lee seemed to be calming down, whether it
was because he was tiring out or because the illness was finally running its
course. “He’s stopped shaking.”
“Lee?” Chip gave his friend a small shake. “Lee, you’re all right, you’re back on
Seaview.”
“Chip?” It was just a whisper but Chip and Jamieson
exchanged glances. Could the worst
really be over?
“I’m right
here, Lee. Are you with us now? How are
you feeling?”
Lee looked
around him and pulled himself upright, one hand wiped the sweat from his face;
Chip and Jamieson noticed a tremor in the movement.
Jamieson moved
forward and took Lee’s wrist to check his pulse. “Take your time, Lee. Just take some deep breaths.”
Lee did as
suggested and took a couple of long shuddering breaths. “Oh my God, that was awful.” He buried his
head in his hands for a few moments then looked up at Chip. “How long have I been here?”
“It’s 0330
right now, about sixteen hours since we picked you up from the island.”
Lee shook his
head. “Sixteen hours of the worst
nightmares I’ve ever had. It was liked
being trapped in…in hell.” Lee shuddered again, still obviously moved by his
experience. Chip patted his shoulder
consolingly. “Where’s the admiral?” Lee
continued, “Where are Ski and
Jamieson spoke
before Chip had a chance to answer, “Chip, go and find the admiral for us and
let him know what’s going on. And maybe
you can arrange for Patterson or Riley to come back down here, maybe they can
bring Ski around for us, he’s probably having the same experience.”
Reluctantly,
Chip nodded. “Back in a few minutes, Lee. Don’t give Jamie any trouble.” And he forced a smile, glad that Jamieson was
going to tell Lee about
Chip sent a
crewman to relay Jamieson’s request to Patterson then headed for the lab to
bring the admiral up to date. Nelson had
news of his own so they headed back for
“Lee, glad to see you looking better.” Nelson
settled himself in Jamieson’s guest chair while Chip perched on the desk. “Where’s Will?”
With an effort
Lee pushed thoughts of Tommy Carlton and the letter he’d be writing to the
young man’s family from his mind. He
managed a small smile for Nelson. “He
said he was just finishing his…uh…work. He
wants us to wait here for him, said he thought he’d found something important.”
“Can you tell
us what happened on the island?”
Lee nodded,
putting the soup mug back on the desk. “Yes,
sir. We made our way to the station
where we expected to find Dr. Aldemar
and the other scientists. But it was
empty. Their boat was still at the dock
but there was no sign of them. We heard a
sound coming from one room of the station but it turned out to be just a radio
left on. We went through all the rooms
once, just giving them a cursory look because of course we expected to find
them. When it appeared they weren’t
around, we split up and, while Ski checked the grounds,
“Keep going,
Lee, I want to hear this as well.”
Lee shrugged. “There’s not much more to tell. We tried to radio you but the radio wouldn’t
work. We started to head back to the
beach. It had taken us about an hour to
walk to the station... the island isn’t
exactly mountainous but that’s still quite a hill and although there was a
path, it’s pretty overgrown. Before we’d
even finished searching the buildings I was feeling a bit sick. I wasn’t going to mention it but Ski said he
didn’t feel well and then
Chip, still
perched on the desk also reached out a hand and squeezed Lee’s arm. “Just remember, you’re on Seaview now. You’re safe.”
Chip quiet
words seemed to help. Lee gathered
himself and nodded. “Sorry.”
“No need for
apologies, Lee.” Nelson added his support.
Taking a deep
breath, Lee continued. “I don’t know
what the others saw, I guess Ski at least can tell us, but that trip back to
the beach was…horrifying. I don’t know
how we managed to stay on the trail. I
know that through it all I had moments of terror, then moments of clarity when
I’d make sure they were both still following me. Maybe it was the same for them. Somehow we all made it to the beach but by
then I was so dizzy I could barely walk straight. Ski seemed to think something was chasing
him, I saw him dash ahead of us as we neared the beach but when Carlton and I
came out of the trees he was lying by the zodiac.
“Let me catch
you up on what I learned from the disk. Primoris
Labs, who were financing this outpost, thought Dr. Aldemar and his team were using island plants
to make vitamin supplements but, instead, they were working on a virus. An airborne one... and they tested it on you.” Nelson shook his
head in disgust. “I just sent you
walking right into a trap.”
“You couldn’t
have known that, Admiral. Primoris
called us for help and we were able to provide it. None of us had reason to suspect something
like this. But why did Tommy die? Did it
affect him differently?”
“I can answer
that, skipper.” Three pairs of eyes turned to the doctor. “Tommy Carlton had a congenital heart defect. It might never have affected him but the
terror of what he saw after he was affected by that virus... it scared him to such an extent that it was
too much for his weakened heart and it caused a heart attack. He was still alive when we got him back to
the boat but, like you and Ski, his blood pressure was very high. Those nightmares seemed to just get worse
and, in his case it was too much, his heart couldn’t take it.”
“But surely
this defect would have shown up on his physicals?” Chip said.
“Unfortunately,
no. Not unless we’d been specifically
looking for it but nothing made us suspect it.
It’s the kind of thing that usually shows symptoms by the time you’re
40, but poor
“I’ve been
studying your blood samples, the samples the HAZMAT team brought back and the
information on the disks and what I think Aldemar’s been doing is using island
plants to develop this gas. At first I
thought it was a virus but I think now that it’s some sort of gas. I’m sure it was somehow released when you
entered the station. I don’t suppose you
noticed any unusual odors?”
Lee shook his
head. “No, sir. And the three of us entered the station at
the same time.
Nelson nodded,
“I’m not surprised, I’m sure it’s odorless and it’s designed to disable the
people it’s used on... long enough to
allow those who use it to gain whatever ends they desire.”
“Any idea what
he was planning to do with it?”
Nelson
shrugged, “No, but I can make guesses… sell it to the highest bidder; of course
he could already have done that, use it himself for some reason we don’t know
about. You can imagine the hysteria if
you released a gas that could produce those kind of nightmares in a large
population or even on Seaview.”
Lee shivered;
he could well imagine a crew gone mad with fear from such an experience.
“It packs a
double whammy doesn’t it?” Chip pointed out.
“If a hysterical population isn’t bad enough, it’s followed by 16-18
hours of unconsciousness. In the hands
of the wrong people....” Chip let his comment trail off; they could all imagine
the devastating effects of Dr. Aldemar’s
invention.
Lee banged his
hand down on the desk. “Damn him, and
he’s going to get away with it! Do we have any idea where they went?”
“I think
they’re still on the island, Lee.” Nelson said.
“They sent that message to Primoris Labs saying they needed urgent help. Of course they were vague about the nature of
their problem and when asked for details their radio seemed to mysteriously
stop working. That was why we were asked
to get here with all speed. I’m sure
they had cameras set up somewhere to watch the effect of their gas on whomever
Primoris sent to help. My bet is they
have either an underground bunker at the station or perhaps a cave.”
“I’d go with
the cave idea, sir. There were some
rugged cliffs on that side of the island.”
“One thing I
don’t think Dr. Aldemar counted on was
Seaview. I’m sure he thought Primoris
would just send a supply ship. He
couldn’t have known that Glenn Godfrey, the Vice President of Primoris, was an
old friend of mine and that by coincidence we’d be in the area because of that
underwater quake. Chip, make sure your
team are well armed.”
“Aye, sir.” Chip
looked at his watch, “Guess I should find the chief and start putting together
my team, it’s already almost 0700 hours.”
“I’m going with
you.” Lee stated.
“What?” “Absolutely not!” “No way, skipper.”
Lee glared at
the three men, “I’m the one they tested this stuff on, and I should be the one
to find them.”
“I understand
how you feel, Lee, but we aren’t going to argue about this. I’m sure Jamie has a whole ship-load of
medical reasons why you shouldn’t be going.
You look like hell and we don’t even know if all that stuff is out of
your system yet. Right now I’d be
surprised if you could walk to the control room let alone lead a strike team.” Nelson’s
voice softened when he saw the disappointed look in Lee’s eyes. “I’d rather have you in charge here, Lee. All right?” He was relieved to get a small nod of
acquiescence.
Jamieson
stepped into the ensuing silence. “Good,
that’s settled. Chip, I’d recommend a
good breakfast before you go round up your team. Admiral, would you mind seeing that the
skipper makes it back to his cabin. He
promised me that if I released him from
Nelson’s blue
eyes twinkled. “I think I can take care
of that. Come on, Lee. The sooner you get some sleep, the sooner
you’ll be back in the control room.”
Lee glared at
Jamieson but allowed Nelson to put an arm under his elbow as he steered his captain
out of
In fact it was
early afternoon by the time Lee made it to the control room. He strode into the room, a mug of fresh
coffee in his hand. He’d just stopped by
“Welcome back,
skipper.”
“Thank you,
“Not yet, sir,
but his last call was right on schedule.
They should be reaching the other side of the island any time now.”
Lee nodded and
sipped his coffee while running a practiced eye over each station in the
control room. Satisfied that things were
well in hand he said, “Keep the conn for a few more minutes, Lieutenant. I’ll be with the Admiral in the nose.”
“Aye, sir.”
A few more
steps took Lee to Seaview’s glass nose where Admiral Nelson sat going over some
notes. The admiral looked up as Lee
approached and gave him a wide smile. “You’re
looking much better. It’s amazing what a
few hours sleep can do, isn’t it?”
Lee chuckled,
“You’re right, a few hours of dreamless sleep was just what I needed.” More
seriously he added, “Do you think Chip will find them in one of the caves or do
you think they’ll be back in the station or might they even try to make a run
for it on their boat?”
Nelson grunted,
“I’ve been tossing around all sorts of ideas but without knowing his plans for
the gas it’s hard to predict. I wish I
knew if he already had a buyer or if he has his own plans for it. Either way, I think he was getting ready to
make his move. Calling for a ship to be
sent was just his chance to test it. He’s
certainly ready for his next step, whatever it is.”
Any further
discussion as to Dr. Aldemar’s
intentions was cut off by a call from Lt. Madison. “Skipper, we’ve got something on sonar.”
As the zodiac
approached the deserted beach, the five occupants tensed a little. They surveyed the shoreline and cliff face
carefully. As soon as they landed and
jumped from the boat onto the sand, Morton drew his sidearm, as did the rest of
the crew. “Chief, secure the craft and get
the gear together.”
“Aye sir.” Chief Sharkey turned to issue orders to the
three crewmen that had accompanied them, Patterson, Fraser and Rodriguez. When he was done he turned to watch as Mr. Morton
made contact with Seaview, when he saw a fleeting look of concern cross the
XO’s face. It worried him.
Sharkey hurried
over to the now outwardly calm officer. “Is
everything alright ,Mr. Morton, sir?” he asked anxiously as Morton signed off.
Chip Morton
tapped the walkie-talkie gently with his finger as his gaze was concentrated
out to sea. Realizing that the COB had
spoken to him, he turned to look at him.
“Sorry, Chief, what did you say?”
“The Seaview, sir? Is everything alright, the
Skipper and Kowalski, they’re still okay, aren’t they, sir?”
“Yes, Chief,
they’re fine.” He paused as he recalled
the recent conversation with his captain.
“It seems Seaview has an unexpected visitor, an unmarked Goby-class sub
has just taken up position three miles off her port bow.” Morton saw worry openly displayed in the chief’s
expression.
“A Goby, sir? They’re
little but they pack a real wallop! But they were all decommissioned years
ago!” He gulped noisily as the XO nodded meaningfully. “Then who are they? Where’re they from? Are
they threatening Seaview, sir?” Sharkey asked rapidly.
“I don’t have
any answers, Chief. The sub seems
content to just wait out there for the moment.”
Chip sighed then focused himself.
“The admiral and Captain Crane feel it more imperative than ever that we
find Dr. Aldemar and his missing team.” Turning, he called the party together. “Men, we are going to start inspecting the
caves at the base of those cliffs. I
want thorough searches made, report anything you find. As you know, this is where we believe the
missing scientists might be hiding and it’s our job to find them. Any questions?” He waited as the men confidently shook their
heads. “Very well, let’s go and stay
alert.” Each man picked up a backpack
and prepared to follow the exec.
He led the way
up the beach towards the caves. There
were several natural fissures in the cliff structure that nature had fashioned
into an extensive cave network and some of them were very large. They began a diligent search, leaving no part
of any cavern unexplored
“Mr.Morton!”
Chip looked
toward Patterson as he heard his call. “Yes,
Patterson, what is it?”
“I think I may
have found something, sir.”
Followed by the
rest of the search party, Morton headed toward the entrance Patterson stood
looking into.
“What do you
think you found, Pat?” he asked the patient man. Patterson was a quiet but extremely
conscientious crewman. If he thought he
saw something, it was certainly worth investigating.
“Over here, sir.” Patterson led the way into the cave and, not
far from the entrance, pointed at the sand.
“See how that bit’s all smooth, in a sort of semi-circle, Mr. Morton?
That looks like the pattern of an opening and shutting door, sir.”
Chip went down
on one knee and looked carefully at the unnaturally smooth surface. It did indeed look as though a heavy door had
recently been used here.
“Well done, I
think you’ve found the entrance. Now
let’s try to open it.” He stood and
directed his attention at the stone wall.
Under careful inspection the outline of a doorway could be seen. A very clever piece of engineering had been executed;
the door had been well camouflaged to hide its addition to the cave. Looking closer still, they discovered a small
locking mechanism. “Look for a trip
switch, men. Something to unlock it.”
After several
minutes of searching they had found nothing.
Standing back, the chief turned to Morton. “Mr. Morton, we’re wasting time. Why not blow it open with some of the
explosives we brought, sir?”
Chip Morton hid
his exasperation at the chief’s suggestion.
He knew Sharkey approached problems with a lack of finesse that was
reminiscent to a ‘bull-at-a-gate’ attitude.
“Too dangerous, Chief. An
explosion could trigger a rock fall; it would also announce our presence and
I’d prefer to arrive as quietly as possible.”
“Sir?”
“Yes,
Rodriguez, what is it?” Chip turned to
the small sturdy crewman.
“The door sir,
I think, if you give me a few minutes, I could open it.”
“How?” Morton
asked, intrigued.
“My
Grandfather, sir, was a locksmith. He
taught me much when I was young.” Estaban
Rodriguez smiled confidently.
Chip studied
the young electrician’s mate. He
remembered interviewing the young sailor more than a year ago and how impressed
he had been by him. His service on
Seaview had fulfilled the promise he had shown then. “What do you need?” Morton asked decisively.
Having selected
his tools, the crewman set to work. Within
ten minutes there was a soft click and a thin shaft of light was defining the
open doorway.
Morton touched
the young man’s shoulder and said softly, “Well done, I must remember you the
next time the captain loses his car keys.”
Just as he hoped, his remark had effectively relieved the mounting
tension and looking at the smirking faces of the rest of the crew he said
firmly but quietly, “Remember men, the admiral wants these men alive, no gun
play unless we have to.”
Taking the lead
he slowly pulled open the heavy door and stepped inside; followed by Sharkey
and the rest of the landing party.
As they edged
carefully down the dimly lit tunnel, the sound of voices echoed towards them. Slowly the shore party turned a corner and
crouched down with their back to the tunnel walls as they remained in the
shadows before the bright light, that lit the wide-open cavern in front of
them, threatened to spill over them. What
they saw was an obviously fully equipped underground laboratory with all the
research equipment that could be found in any other legitimate facility. There was also a bank of television screens
that displayed the external and internal views of the surface laboratory, as
well as the dock area. Four white-coated
scientists were busily packing equipment into boxes and the arrival of the
search party had so far gone unnoticed. Morton
pointed to Sharkey and Fraser and wordlessly indicated that they should go to
the right and circle behind them. The chief
nodded and both men slipped silently in, using the shadows and standing
equipment to hide their progress. Morton
waited and, when he saw they were in position, he stood, as did Patterson and Rodriguez
who took up positions either side of him.
When one of the
four scientists turned and saw them, his startled alarm caused the other three
men to stop and look at the armed intruders.
As they
advanced towards the surprised men, the officer announced, “I am Lt. Commander
Morton of the submarine Seaview, here to find Dr. Aldemar.
Which one of you is Dr. Kenneth
Aldemar?”
The men
remained silent but were obviously nervous.
“Well, Dr. Aldemar, where are you?”
Morton demanded again.
“Right here,
Commander” A deep voice sounded from
behind them. “Please be good enough to
drop your weapons.”
Morton and his
men spun around to see a tall imposing man, armed with a powerful handgun. He was standing in an alcove by a row of
computers; he surveyed them with obvious annoyance.
Morton, unfazed
by the request, merely lifted an eyebrow and using his best command voice
answered. “I think one armed man against
five rather puts the control of the situation in our hands, Dr. Aldemar.
I suggest that you drop your weapon, sir.”
Aldemar merely
smiled and replied. “But you, Commander,
will abide by a strict code of ethics while I have none.”
A loud retort
echoed through the chamber and one man dropped to the ground.
“Is he still
holding position, Kowalski?” the captain asked the sonar man again.
“Yes, sir, he’s
just sitting out there. Right off our
port bow.”
Kowalski had
been released from
“Seems he’s in
no hurry to declare his intentions, Lee.” Nelson said softly as he stood by his
captain, while gazing towards the windows in the nose. “Still not answering our hails?”
“No, sir. He’s ignoring all our attempts to contact him,”
Crane answered impatiently.
“Three hours is
a long time to maintain a silent watch. He
is obviously waiting for something…” Nelson mused thoughtfully.
“Maybe he’s
waiting for Dr. Aldemar to contact him,”
Crane observed.
Nelson and
Crane had been immediately alarmed at the arrival of the other submarine. However the Goby had made no attempt to
approach Seaview nor had her captain made any attempt to communicate with them. Nelson was prepared to speculate that Kenneth
Aldemar had already sold his research and was preparing to complete the
transaction, possibly departing with whoever manned the other vessel. Had he really sold out his country to the
highest bidder?
“Any word from
the search party?” Nelson asked cautiously.
Crane looked
him anxiously in the eye and shook his head.
“Not since they landed. They are
overdue reporting in by forty two minutes.”
Lee had been counting each minute restlessly. The fact that his exec and best friend was
out there, where he felt he should be, was intensely painful to Lee’s sense of
duty. His instinct also told him they
were in trouble; Chip Morton’s time keeping was as reliable as the sun rising
and setting. He would not have missed a
check-in unless something had prevented him.
Lee was on edge; he needed to be doing something to find them.
“Permission to
take out a new search party, Admiral?” Lee said hurriedly.
Running a hand
through his hair in agitation Nelson growled.
“Every time we send a search party to that island, they go missing.”
“I could go out
alone….”
“That’s out of
the question… at this rate we’d have no crew left!” Nelson retorted, not
missing the emphasis his captain had put on the request. He knew Lee was concerned for the men and
especially for Morton.
“I’m sorry,
Lee, but under the circumstances….”
Kowalski
suddenly called from sonar. “Skipper,
the sub’s moving… they…. TORPEDOS sir,
bearing 230!”
“Hard right
rudder, full down on the planes!” Crane ordered. “Prepare….”
As the giant
submarine turned to starboard and started to dive it was rocked violently by a
nearby explosion. Men fell to the deck
and lights flickered as the shock wave tossed the boat about in the maelstrom.
“Kowalski, what
happened?” Crane demanded loudly as the
disturbance ebbed and he gained his feet again.
“There was a
premature explosion that took out both fish… my guess is they made a mistake
with the timers, sir.... A mistake, or
they intentionally set them to detonate prematurely.”
“Lt.
“They’ve
stopped, sir. Just like before … off our
port bow.”
“Lee, we have
to find out…” Nelson started but was again interrupted, this time by
“Admiral, we’re
being hailed, sir… by videophone. Dr
Aldemar.”
Crane and
Nelson looked at each other in surprise.
“Put it through to the main viewing screen.” Nelson ordered as both men headed towards the
nose.
Lee Crane
switched on the large monitor and as the picture came into focus they saw the
face of Dr. Kenneth Aldemar, renowned
biochemist, research fellow and now… possible traitor.
“Admiral
Nelson, how good to meet you at last. Your
reputation has preceded you, of course. I
have long admired your work but I had hoped to meet you under different
circumstances.” The scientist’s smiling
face looked openly sincere.
“Dr. Aldemar, I can’t say I’m flattered. You and your team have been most elusive for
the last three days. Do we take it that
you now wish to explain your traitorous actions?” Nelson demanded
roughly.
“You really are
a pompous little man, aren’t you, Nelson?” The scientist’s face contorted with rage. “How dare you to judge me? My brilliance is
every bit a match for your own! I have made a discovery that will change the
destiny of mankind and I looked forward to discussing it with you. But I can see now I was severely mistaken. It seems I alone have the power within my
grasp to end warfare as we know it… I will be the harbinger of peace”
“What are you
talking about, man? Your discovery, as you call it, can only bring more
suffering to the world?” The disgust in the admiral’s voice was plain to hear.
“Don’t try to
belittle my achievement, Admiral! I tell you, no more will we need to arm
ourselves with destructive weapons… from now on I will be able to conquer the
enemies of peace without the need to resort to armaments and death. I will merely render them helpless before me,
with nothing more than a few harmless nightmares. Peace will be achieved in dreams! I can
prevent the plague of war at last.”
“Harmless
nightmares? Those nightmares killed one of my crew!” shouted Lee angrily.
Aldemar stared
at the captain in total surprise as he assessed the information. “No, Captain.” He shook his head decisively. “That’s not possible. You are mistaken! If he died there must have
had other physical causes for his death, my gas is not harmful. I have tested it myself several times; the
effects are not permanent.” He declared
firmly. “You are merely trying to
deflect me from my true course. I know
that our Government has sent you to prevent me from succeeding but I won’t
allow it… do you hear me? I won’t allow it!”
“That’s
laughable!” Lee replied sharply. “You
sent a mayday… a cry for help. We
responded and one of my crew is dead because of you! Your blasted gas literally
scared him to death!”
Nelson caught his
captain’s arm and ordered quietly. “Not
now, Lee.”
Crane looked at
him and was about to protest but something in the determined blue eyes made him
stand down.
Nelson had
listened to the mounting hysteria in Aldemar’s voice and saw the uncompromising
gleam in his eyes. He believed what he
said; he truly saw himself as the savior of mankind. What the admiral saw concerned him, this man
was displaying every sign of teetering on the edge of madness.
Nelson turned
back to the image on the screen. “I take
it the waiting submarine that just fired on us is here to collect you and your
team.”
“Ah, yes, the Morrison. She is a fine little bit of leverage, don’t
you think? She has been refitted since the Navy scrapped her. I think you will find she is more than your
match in a stand-off, Nelson.”
“So what is it
you want ,Dr. Aldemar?” the admiral
persisted.
“What I want,
Admiral, is for you to withdraw and leave here immediately.” Aldemar retorted angrily.
“You can’t
seriously expect us to do that?” Nelson announced softly. Leaning heavily on the table, he confronted
the screen with frustration. “You must
realize that we cannot permit you to leave here with your research. We will do everything we can to prevent you…
even firing upon you if we have to. Think,
man. Don’t be deceived by the promises
of others. Are you fully aware that this
course of action can only lead you to betraying your country and the rest of
mankind? You may not have intended your gas to be lethal but the effects can be
deadly to the vulnerable. We have the
scientific proof, we’re not fools.”
Laughing madly,
the scientist replied. “Betraying my
country! Is that all your intellect is capable of understanding? I can save the
world from destroying itself and you think I’m the one being deceived! I will
regret the few inevitable casualties but they will die for the greater good. For your information, the people on that
submarine are here to help! They are in full agreement with me and are prepared
to protect our work.” He leaned forward,
staring intently. “No, Admiral, I don’t
take you for fools but only men who lack my vision.” Aldemar glanced off to his right and then
back again with a smirk of confidence. “However,
I do believe your renowned loyalty to your crew will sway your decision and
make you agree to my demands.”
“What are you
talking about, Doctor?”
Immediately the
picture swung away and refocused on a caged area where the faces of the shore
party could be clearly identified. As
they looked carefully, Nelson and Lee could see a man down. Chip Morton was flat on the ground with
corpsman Steve Fraser applying first aid to what appeared to be a chest wound
while other worried crew looked on.
The picture
turned back to Dr. Aldemar. “Well, Nelson, do I have your cooperation, or
are you going to allow your Executive Officer to die and the rest of your men
to share the same fate?” he asked smugly.
Nelson heard
the sharp inhalation from the young man at his shoulder but neither officer
moved a muscle, nor did they shift their attention from the screen. Crane’s fists were clenched at his sides and
he was literally trembling with suppressed fury while Nelson himself was waging
his own battle.
“I want to
speak to the chief petty officer,” Nelson said, keeping his voice steady by the
sheer power of his will and more than twenty years’ self-discipline. “Then I’ll let you know if we’ll be
cooperating or not.”
Aldemar
frowned, momentarily taken aback by Nelson’s response. His indecision was mirrored on his face as he
glanced to his right once more.
“I know your
reputation well, Admiral Nelson. I know
your supreme reluctance to sacrifice the life of even a single man in your
command. I believe I can safely allow
you your communication…. Speak. They will hear you.”
“Sharkey!”
Nelson called.
The career
non-com rose to his feet, turning to look piercingly through the bars of the
cage. “Admiral Nelson? That you, sir?”
“I can see you,
Sharkey. He has you on the monitor. How’s Mr. Morton?”
“Fraser says
it’s a bad wound but if he gets treatment in time it shouldn’t be fatal.”
“Anyone else
injured?”
“No, sir, just
Mr. Morton.”
“You take good
care of them, Francis. Remember the time
on the Nautilus--.”
“It will avail
you nothing to attempt to convey any sort of concealed message to them.” Aldemar cut in harshly.
Nelson’s face
flushed with the fury that threatened to overcome his control. “The only message I intend to give them is to
not give up. We will get them back. And that message is for you, as well,
Aldemar!”
“An optimist to
the end, eh, Nelson. The only way you
will see your men alive again is to abide by my directives.”
“We will not
abandon our men, but I think we can work out something equitable to us both.” His
statement garnered startled glances from the bridge crew.
As if unable to
control himself any longer the captain stumbled forward, his hands raised in
helpless fists.
“Stand down,
Captain Crane!” Nelson ordered sharply. Lee
flinched at the tone and looked at his friend as though in stunned disbelief. Below the level of the videophone camera
Nelson was gesturing emphatically, motioning the younger man aside, out of
Aldemar’s sight.
“You can’t let
them go, Admiral!” he cried vehemently. “I
know first hand what that gas of his can do! We can take that little pup-sub
without a raising a sweat! Just give me the okay and we’ll blow her out of the
water!”
“I told you to
stand down, Captain!” Nelson countered, his tone cutting, and had Crane not
interpreted the continued gestures correctly he would have reacted genuinely,
instead of with calculated defiance.
“I refuse. This is a matter of national security!” The
control room crew was openly staring now.
“Master at
Arms!” Nelson roared, though his face was not as flushed as it would normally
have been had he been truly infuriated. “Remove
Captain Crane from the control room! Mr. O’Brien, take the conn!”
Lee allowed the
stunned Master at Arms to escort him from the control room, all the while
keeping up a litany of objections and protests against what he suspected Nelson
was planning. Once in the passageway
beyond the control room Crane shook off Warrant Officer Gregson’s grip and
lunged into an easy jog toward the rear of the Seaview.
“Captain, sir!”
Gregson called, hurrying after him.
“Come on, Greg. You can help me get ready!”
“Ready? For
what, Skipper? The admiral’s orders….”
“Weren’t orders
at all, Billy, and you know that. He
just wanted me out of Aldemar’s view. It’s
up to us take that sub out of the equation, while the admiral has him
distracted. If we can pull this off we
still stand a chance of coming out on top in spite of everything!”
“Aye, Captain,
but.... It’s not my place to question,
sir, but the Admiral....”
“Unless I’m
totally out of my tree, the Admiral will be along within five minutes. If I’m not suited up and ready to leave the Seaview when he joins us, he’s going to
be hell on wheels. You want to face
that, Warrant Officer?”
“Uh... no, Skipper.”
Still somewhat
befuddled, Gregson followed at the captain’s heels entering the missile room
just behind him. The men on duty there
looked up, not expecting their captain to appear in light of the situation, and
Lee glanced at each man speculatively.
“Barrett,
Torrence, get your gear on. We’re gonna
get wet.”
“Aye, aye,
Captain,” both men replied nearly in unison and their instant response brought
a slight smile to Crane’s mouth.
“Me too,
Skipper,” came a voice from the hatch behind Gregson and Lee turned, his smile
widening.
“I should have
expected you, Ski,” he greeted the sonar expert, knowing that the friendship
between Kowalski and Patterson was as real as his own with Chip Morton. “How’d you get out of the control room?”
“Just threw a
fit. That’s all. The Admiral said that if I was gonna act like
you I could just as well join you....” Kowalski grinned. “He made it sound like you were in the brig,
sir.”
“The rest of
the watch?”
“They caught on
pretty fast. We’ve all been expecting
something from you and Admiral Nelson since you were holed up in the
observation nose for so long before....”
Crane nodded,
pleased with his crew. “It’s going to be
a long swim. You sure you’re up to
this?”
“Are you, Captain?” Kowalski shot back.
Lee nodded
soberly then turned, his gaze including the other two men he had selected. “Let’s get ready. I’ll explain the plan to you as we change.”
“Blow ballast
tanks,” Nelson ordered softly. He did
not supervise the obedience to his command; Bobby O’Brien could do that. Instead his gaze was locked on the panel that
displayed the indicator lights for the hatches throughout the boat. There.
He sighed with relief as the panel briefly indicated the opening of the
missile room escape hatch, then the light went out, and he knew they were away. Leaving the Seaview while it was in motion, slowly surfacing, was dangerous
under the best of conditions but to do so while making every effort to remain
undetected by the enemy sub would be difficult in the extreme.
“They’ve
cleared the hull, Admiral,” the relief sonar operator announced. “If I didn’t know they were out there our
ballast would conceal them entirely.”
Nelson merely
nodded. The duty watch was uncommonly
silent.
“Periscope
depth!” someone called out but Nelson wasn’t paying attention.
The crew was
functioning as they always did, skillfully and without strict direction. The Seaview
conning tower broke the surface and was announced. The deck crew scrambled up the ladder into
the sail, and the light panel displayed the opening of the sail hatch then the
deck hatch forward. Within moments the
extra zodiac would be inflated and tied up alongside the Seaview. He drew himself up
at the sound of leather soles on the decking behind him and turned.
“Will,” he said
quietly, identifying the CMO without turning.
“You ready?”
“Anytime you
are, Admiral. Who else is coming?”
“Aldemar’s
allowing us two seamen to row the zodiac.
They’re to stay on the beach with the boat then take the doctor and his
associates to their sub. The captain of
the Morrison has been ordered to keep
us under surveillance until they’re safely aboard, with their missiles trained
on both the island and the Seaview. I think you can guess what else is included
in his orders.”
Jamieson
swallowed sharply. “How can we be sure
he won’t fire as soon as Aldemar’s aboard?”
“Lee.”
The CMO glanced
around, surprised not to see the captain in evidence. “Where is
the Skipper? I thought he’d be here heading things up....” Jamieson fell
silent, awareness dawning. “What’s he
doing?”
“We had made a
couple of contingency plans. Then
Aldemar called and his intentions all came clear. He thinks he has tied our hands... that I’d do anything at all to save the lives
of our men.” He hesitated, seeing awareness flicker through Jamieson’s eyes. “Go on, say it. He doesn’t know me very well.”
“Actually I was
thinking just the opposite, that he knows you all too well. But surely if he knows you, he must be aware
of our captain’s reputation as well....”
“He thinks I
had Lee confined to the Brig for defying me.
The CMO
whistled airily and grinned. “I would certainly
have liked to have seen that exchange.”
“Well, don’t
expect us to do a replay for you, Will. Let’s
go.”
“What’s he
doing? What can he possibly do?”
“A little
retribution. Lee was one of the
midshipmen included in an orientation cruise aboard a Goby-class submarine. After that tour he’s more familiar with that
class of sub than any other man aboard Seaview.”
“Except for
you, Admiral. I seem to remember that
the Goby was one of the subs you helped design.”
“Yes, one of my
early efforts. But you know Lee. He spent every minute of his free time of
that cruise talking to the crew, learning the Goby’s good points and bad ones. Just a while ago he was telling me about
aspects I had completely forgotten about...
and about the Morrison, in
particular. She’s one of the few
Goby-class to have been fitted with a sump room.”
“And you had
forgotten that?” Jamieson asked skeptically.
“Well,” Nelson
conceded, smiling distantly, “it had
temporarily slipped my mind.”
“And Captain
Crane is going to board the enemy sub through the sump room?”
“If anyone can,
he’ll manage it.”
“How many men
aboard the Morrison?”
“As few as
twenty, as many as six times that.”
“You mentioned
retribution. What’s the plan?”
“He’s going to
give them a taste of their own medicine.”
“What?” Jamieson
choked out. “Not Aldemar’s gas!”
“Not quite,”
the admiral soothed. “Once we’d gotten
the blood samples broken down and identified the components of the drug it was
simple enough to alter it just enough to change the effects.”
Jamieson stared
at him blankly. “Easy for you.... It was one of the most complex substances
I’ve ever encountered. How can you be
sure of how it will affect people now? And what about our own dive team?”
“They took pony
air bottles with them.”
“Which may or
may not protect them. Are they aware of
the possible repercussions?”
“Lee knows. He informed the others before they left. They all decided the repercussions of allowing Aldemar to get away were worse than any
threat the gas might offer them.”
“I won’t ask
for the details. We don’t have time. But...
I really thought Lee would insist on going after Chip....”
“If he’d had
his druthers I’m sure he would have but Aldemar has us over a barrel as far as
the shore party is concerned. It’s all
going to come down to Lee’s success or failure....”
“Admiral...? What
haven’t you said?”
Nelson raised
his hand to his head, rubbing his fingertips across his forehead. “I’m to accompany Aldemar to the Morrison.”
“No!”
“If Lee
succeeds there won’t be a problem. If he
doesn’t.... Well, that presents a whole
new set of difficulties.”
“I don’t like
it.”
“I don’t want
to think about the look on his face when he sees me aboard with Aldemar.”
“Lee doesn’t
know?”
“No. Aldemar made his demands after I’d sent him
from the control room. Lee’s operating
under the assumption that we’ll all be safe...
that no matter what he feels he and his team have to do... it won’t affect the rest of us.”
The tough
bottom of the zodiac scraped against the sand beside the first zodiac from the Seaview and the two seamen stepped out
into the water, dragging the raft further onto the beach. Nelson looked up, motioning Jamieson to the
shore as the man who had appeared on the videophone, Kenneth Aldemar, led four
other men from the jungle. Aldemar himself
carried an aluminum briefcase, while his fellows each carried molded resin
shipping cubes. Aldemar saw the admiral
staring at the crates and he smiled broadly.
“Yes, Admiral,
we have an adequate supply to see our work begun.”
Nelson did not
reply but watched carefully as the other four scientists loaded the boxes into
the second zodiac and strapped them down before climbing in themselves.
“I want my
men,” Nelson said at last.
“You may have
them. They are of no more use to me. Your presence will be quite enough. I take it this is your medical officer?” Nelson nodded.
“Ah, I regret there is no wide path to lead you to the cave where your
seamen are incarcerated, doctor, but if you hurry you may still be in time to
save the life of Commander Morton.”
With a last
quick look at Nelson, Will Jamieson trotted away into the dense jungle
following the path as long as it led toward the not far distant cliffs.
“He’d better be
alive, Aldemar,” the admiral snarled bitterly.
“They’d all better be. It’s the
only reason I’m here, you know.”
“Sacrificing so
much for the safety of so few men, Admiral Nelson. And what of your captain?”
“He didn’t
agree. He’s been removed from the conn
of the Seaview.”
Aldemar
pretended shock. “Then who stands
command of your precious submarine, Admiral?”
“Lt. Bobby
O’Brien.... He’s an able officer.”
“And I’m sure
he follows orders much better than your Captain Crane. It’s just as well that you have removed him from command. You had him confined to his quarters, I
assume?”
“The kind of
insubordination you witnessed pulls brig time, Aldemar. But enough of this chatter. Let’s get underway.”
“So eager,
Admiral? Should I be pleased or alarmed?”
“Just know that
if you’re pulling a double cross... Mr. O’Brien
has orders of his own. There will be no
way you or your submarine will leave these islands in one piece.”
Aldemar smiled
widely and casually stepped aboard the raft, seating himself next to Nelson. “So, all of your teeth have not yet been
pulled, Nelson. I’m glad. I’ve discovered that I enjoy this intrigue
more than I expected and had you proven less an adversary I would have been
sorely disappointed.”
Nelson merely
grumbled; his standard noncommittal response to insignificant people then
braced himself as the seamen pushed the raft away from the beach and paddled
after the other zodiac.
It had taken
longer, and more of his barely regained stamina than he had expected, to swim
the half-mile from the Seaview to the
Morrison, Crane thought as he eased
into the narrow confines of the Goby-class sump. By now the admiral would be ashore and Chip
would soon be receiving the medical care he desperately needed. But he needed to hurry. He was behind schedule already and so much
depended on his accomplishing his mission in a timely manner.
He eased his
head warily out of the water and peered around the red-lighted chamber,
locating the single guard leaning casually against the bulkhead, his arms
crossed over his chest, his head drooping in boredom. With utmost caution the captain pulled his
arm up from his side, his hand filled with the bulky but extremely effective
tranquilizer gun. He took careful aim
and fired then was up and out of the sump before the guard had crumpled to the
deck. He turned, reaching into the water
to assist Barrett from the sump, who in turn aided Kowalski and Torrence. Crane pulled off his fins and the face mask
and spat out the regulator but did not remove the oxygen tank. They would need the oxygen in their main
tanks as well as the pony tanks before this was over, he estimated. The others followed suit.
“You know what
to do, Torrey?”
“Aye, sir. Barrett and me make our way to the torpedo
room.” He pulled a slender canister from its clip on the weight belt. “This’ll take out the duty watch there and we
move in and hold the fort against being retaken by the bad guys.”
Crane nodded. “If they have scuba tanks stored in there use
them. Just make sure you’re breathing
untainted air. Believe me, you don’t
want to experience anything like what Ski and I did... even if the admiral has toned it down.” Kowalski
nodded emphatically. “And stay at your
post until you’re relieved,” he ordered needlessly.
“Aye, Skipper,
but please just make sure it’s you doin’ the relievin’, not one of them,” the other torpedoman put in
emphatically.
“I’ll do my
best, Barrett.”
“I’m sure of
that, Captain.”
“On your way,
then.” He watched them exit the sump room then turned toward Kowalski. “And you, Ski? You clear on what you’re to do?”
The sonar
specialist patted a second canister on his belt. “The circuitry room, sir. We want the Morrison dead in the water, unable to make way and equally unable
to fire any of her missiles... even
manually.”
“Make sure you
keep your oxygen flowing. ”
“You know it,
sir! I’ve had more than enough of those nightmares! You too, Skipper. You’ve got to make sure that crumby scientist
isn’t allowed to make good on his threats.”
“He won’t, Ski. One way or another....”
The other man
nodded his understanding but his eyes glowed with pride, nonetheless. “You want me to meet you in the control room,
Captain?”
Crane hesitated
on the verge of rejecting Kowalski’s offer but the two of them were survivors
of Aldemar’s gas and, as much as he needed to confront the scientist, he
realized the sonarman’s need was just as great.
“That might be
a good idea, Ski. And on your way... keep an eye out for a compartment they might
have the scuba tanks stored in... just
in case, you know.”
Kowalski
grinned broadly. “Yeah, sir. These pony tanks are great, but they don’t
last long. I’ll find their storage
locker for sure.”
Crane smiled
fondly and nodded. He could always count
on Kowalski.
The two men
left the sump room together but they parted company in the empty corridor
beyond. Lee made his way to the air
revitalization room easily, slipping skillfully into hiding when the rare
crewman appeared. He reached the room so
essential to the survival of any submarine and slipped inside the empty
compartment just as he felt the subtle difference in the engines as the
submarine surfaced. It hung there for a
few minutes only before the ballast tanks were flooded once more and it settled
back into the sea, the sound of the engines and a faint shudder telling him
that they were underway.
He glanced down
at the dive watch on his wrist. He had
told the others ten minutes. They would
be on oxygen now, whether they had accomplished their goal yet or not. It was time.
It had to be now.
He slipped the
regulator back into his mouth and drew in the uncontaminated air gratefully as
he adjusted dials and slipped his own slim canister into the air purification
duct, twisting the top to activate distribution. He shuddered.
He could not help it. He knew the
gas was odorless and invisible, and the memory of the nightmares was too near,
too horrifying to easily dismiss. Carefully
breathing only through the regulator he closed the duct and turned, checking
the scuba tank air gauge. His main tank
air would be dangerously close to exhausted by the time he could get to the control
room, he knew without a doubt. He could
use the pony bottle without a thought a hundred feet below the surface but now,
with the gas pumping through the submarine....
He shuddered. He had managed to
hold out longer than Ski or Tommy under the full influence of Aldemar’s drug,
he told himself. He could do it again. If he had to.
He could feel
the sweat running down his spine beneath the wetsuit as he padded stealthily
along the passageway. The boat was
silent. No, not silent, definitely not
silent, but not normal either. There was
a scream, a crash somewhere else, and his hand found its way to the holster
belted at his hip. He opened the
waterproof pouch and eased the automatic out, holding it ready. There was sweat on his palm as well, he noted. He found himself starting at shadows,
wondering when the horrors he had experienced before would manifest themselves
again. And yet he moved ahead. This time he knew what to expect. He could fight against it. That’s what the admiral had assured him. That this time, knowing what was happening,
he could fight it....
The Morrison shuddered and her lights
flickered momentarily before the emergency lighting took over. There were shouts coming from the control
room just ahead of him now and he fought to get control of his own unreasonable
fears. Fear of being afraid was not
going to defeat him, he swore. He
hesitated in the hatchway, listening. There
was incipient panic building in the control room. He could feel it as intensely as if the
temperature was actually rising in the sub.
He identified Aldemar’s voice raised with the others and one with a
little more command to his tone, perhaps the sub’s captain. They were arguing. Then there was another voice. One he knew well. Nelson!
With a sense of
urgency nearly overwhelming him Lee stepped through the rear hatch into the
mass confusion of what should have been a well organized area. His dark hazel eyes scanned the compartment
swiftly, locating the man he sought with the ease of affection as well as the admiral’s
distinctive red hair. There were seven
men in the control room besides Nelson and Aldemar, none of them in uniform;
two were already unconscious, sprawled on the floor, another pair were huddled
together in a corner, sobbing on each other’s shoulders. The radioman was in the midst of smashing the
radio console with bloodied fists, shouting...
no, screaming that it was afire. The
man at the tactical console seemed to be catatonic, merely staring at the
screens before him as though frozen in place.
The sub captain stood at the periscope, repeatedly squawking the mic,
yelling nearly incoherent commands at the men on watch in the torpedo room to
launch their weapons at the Seaview.
Lee spit out
the regulator from the exhausted air tank and groped at the harness buckle. He shrugged out of the tank gear, letting it
clatter to the floor, confident that no one in the control room would hear over
the racket already being made inside. He
pulled the bright yellow pony bottle free from its bracket next to the main
tank and straightened. To his credit
there was no hesitation despite the panic that pounded in his own heart. He could feel the affects of the gas, knew
them, recognized them for what they were and yet....
“Admiral!” he
called, attracting the older man’s attention.
Nelson whirled
to face him, his face florid, his eyes wide as he stared into his own world of
terror. He stared at Crane for the space
of several heartbeats, his expression betraying his doubt, the depth of his
need to believe that his captain stood not ten paces from him.
“Lee....” he
choked out, stumbling forward in spite of Aldemar’s grip on his arm. “Son!”
There was more
he would have said, his emotions naked in the pale blue eyes, but Lee knew he
could not wait to hear it, that as much as he wanted to know he could not delay
or they would both be lost. Nelson had
begun to feel the affects of the gas but he knew the depth of the admiral’s
will power and he was confident that it would be enough to see him through this. Crane walked swiftly into the control room,
ignoring the hallucinations that were beginning to tease the edges of his
vision. He thrust the pony bottle into
Nelson’s hands and his voice had never contained a more commanding tone than it
did at that moment.
“Use this,
Admiral. That’s an order.”
Nelson raised
the tank, taking the regulator between his teeth, sucking the clean air into
his lungs deeply. There was a flicker of
something in his eyes, acknowledgment, gratitude and yet the fear was very
real, very intense. “Lee....” he said
around the regulator. “The drug....”
“It’s okay,
Admiral. We have the boat,” Crane
answered. He knew his voice was
trembling but he fought it stubbornly, then shifted slightly to face the
scientist responsible. “Dr. Aldemar,” he greeted him. “Where is the rest of your team?”
“They took the
samples to the lab, Captain Crane. I
suppose I should not be so surprised to see you here but I am.”
“And I’m
equally surprised that the gas isn’t affecting you more. Have you really a resistance to it? Or is
there an immunization that you’ve developed?” A meager smile touched the man’s thin lips. He was afraid but not as afraid as he should
have been. “I thought so. Too bad you didn’t provide some of it to the
rest of your people. I don’t think
they’ll be very happy with you when they come out of this and find themselves
in Seaview’s brig.”
“You’ll never
get us there, Captain. At this moment
I’m the most lucid man aboard the Morrison. All I have to do is wait a few more minutes
and I’ll be able to just reach out and take the gun out of your hand without a
struggle.”
“I don’t think
so, Doctor,” Nelson said then. His voice
was still shaky but the oxygen had given him the advantage he needed to beat
back the drug’s influence. He spoke then
put the regulator back into his mouth. Removing
it only to speak. “Your career as a
bio-terrorist is over, Aldemar.”
“Admiral, how’s
Chip?” Lee asked then, his concern for his friend surfacing with the increasing
affects of the gas.
Nelson tapped
his ear. “Will beeped me a few minutes
ago. He used the signal we arranged that
he was alive and they were on their way back to Seaview.”
Lee nodded but
the movement seemed to increase the bleariness of his vision. He raised his free hand to swipe at his eyes
and his fingers tightened on the pistol in his right hand. It was happening again. The terror, the waking nightmare; and it was
all Aldemar’s fault.
He raised the
pistol, leveling it steadily at the scientist.
“I should pull
the trigger on this gun, Doctor. I
should rid the world of a sick, twisted mind like yours.”
“No.”
“Give me a good
reason not to. I’ve experienced what you
have planned for the world, remember. You’re
a terrorist, plain and simple. I could
shoot you and no one would even care....” He moved forward holding the pistol
threateningly and wiped once more at his eyes.
“Lee, don’t do
this,” Nelson cautioned. “He’s not worth
it.”
“He’s worse
than any terrorist I’ve ever heard of ,because he doesn’t care who it affects,
and he doesn’t care what it does to them before they die! And they can die, Doctor... just like Tommy died! It will affect the old
and the sick and the very young... not
just those with congenital defects!”
Lee staggered
closer. His vision was distorted now. He could see the thousands, even millions of
people harmed by Aldemar’s gas. The dead
and dying fallen in the streets of every city in the world, the violence the
drug would engender in some, the sheer terror in others leading to mayhem and
disaster.
He could hear
Nelson’s voice calling to him but now all he could see was Aldemar’s face
before him, the terror that filled the scientist’s eyes not because of the
gas’s influence on himself but its affect on the man who clutched him one-handed
by the throat.
The gas! Lee
threw himself backwards, allowing Nelson to tear the pistol from his grasp. His anger and his sense of victimization had
combined with the gas to nearly turn him into a madman. He knew Nelson had his arm around his shoulders,
supporting him, and then it seemed less than a moment later there was a scuba
regulator at his lips. He shook his head
vehemently.
“No, Harry! You
keep it....”
“It’s all
right, Skipper. I brought an extra tank. I figured you might want it rather than the
pony bottle....”
Lee blinked his
bleary eyes, gazing up into Kowalski’s concerned face. He was on the deck, the sonar technician
kneeling at his side. He did not
remember falling. He allowed the
mouthpiece to be inserted between his teeth and he took a deep inhalation,
closing his eyes in concentrated effort to clear his mind.
“You okay,
Skipper?”
“I will be,
Ski.” His vision was still distorted but he ignored the sensations of threat
and looked beyond Kowalski to the admiral, standing just behind the rating. “Admiral? We need to scrub the boat... It’s only going to get worse for anyone who
isn’t protected... and that pony tank
isn’t going to last for long.
Nelson nodded,
almost surprised, and Crane realized that the admiral was not functioning at
his normal extraordinary level.
Lee put out his
hand, allowing Kowalski to help him back to his feet. He pulled on the tank straps for convenience
and reached for the portable radio clipped to his belt. “Come in Seaview,
this is Crane.”
“Captain! You’re
all right!” Bobby O’Brien’s youthful voice sounded from the small box.
“As far as I
know, we all are. But we could use some
help over here. We’re dead in the water
and the current crew is headed for the brig.” He hesitated, swallowing with
difficulty, identifying the surge of fear as drug-induced but afraid,
nonetheless. “Uh, Bobby... all our instruments are disabled. We are
still on the surface, aren’t we?”
“You are,
Skipper. And a prize crew will be there
inside five minutes.”
“We’ll get the
welcome mat laid out. And... Bobby...? Can you give me a status report on
Mr. Morton’s condition?”
“He’s in
surgery now, Captain, but Doc said he thought his odds were good. Fraser did a really top notch job patching
him up.”
Lee sighed
wearily. At least one of his concerns
was laid to rest. “Thanks, Lieutenant. Crane out.”
Standing two
feet away Harriman Nelson watched his captain with nearly the same intensity as
he watched his prisoner. He had only
experienced a few minutes exposure to the modified gas and he had been
expecting its affects. Nelson’s appreciation
of what these two men from the Seaview
had experienced on the island was stunning.
And for Lee to deprive himself of the breathing apparatus for his
benefit was further proof of the younger man’s courage and devotion. As he watched, Crane removed the regulator
once more.
“Ski, can you
scramble up the escape trunk and open that hatch by hand then wait for the
prize crew? We’ll be fine here.... These
fellows down here aren’t going to be giving anyone any trouble.” His gaze
shifted toward Aldemar as he replaced the regulator for several slow breaths. “Except maybe our doctor, here.”
“I’ll get it,
sir,” Kowalski answered and hurried away, climbing the ladder with practiced
ease.
Nelson’s blue
gaze met the captain’s. “You all right,
Lee?”
“As well as can
be expected, Admiral. You?”
“We’ve done a
good thing here. I only got a taste of
what you did, but it’s nothing I’d want anyone else to experience.”
“I have to
admit I’m a little disappointed,” Crane said softly, his attention returning to
Aldemar. “I was really hoping he’d get
to experience his creation himself... first
hand. He has an antidote, you know.”
“I thought as
much. But you’re mistaken, Lee... I think he experienced quite intimately... if not directly....”
“I’m not
following you.”
“He was
convinced you were going to kill him. In
fact, so was I.”
Lee looked into
Aldemar’s face. There was a difference
there now, he saw; the self-assurance was diminished, the manic obsession
nearly erased. “Me too,” he admitted
seriously. “But maybe the worst
nightmare for him still lies ahead... the
rest of his life locked away from everything.... Seems like a nightmare to me.”
The captain
made his way aft from the control room of the Seaview wearily. It had been
nearly an hour since his return from the Morrison,
an hour of arranging for a prize crew to be placed aboard the Goby-class sub,
of ensuring that the rogue crew was locked up in the Morrison’s brig and that Aldemar and his team were safely
incarcerated in the brig aboard Seaview,
under the watchful eyes of a security force.
He had stood by while Nelson contacted Pacific Command to notify them of
the incidents leading up to the recovery of the Morrison. He had remained,
stonily silent, as Nelson called the Primoris Lab’s President. The man had not taken the news well, but had
graciously offered to make monetary reparations to those men affected by
Aldemar’s gas. Lee had shaken his head
in rejection, knowing that Kowalski would feel the same then, thinking better
of it, he had silently mouthed Tommy
Carlton. The young storekeeper’s
family would be well cared for now and it might make the writing of the letter
to them a bit easier.
He was tired;
beyond tired. His body yearned for
little more than a few undisturbed hours in his bunk but he knew his mind would
be unable to rest until he had confirmed his friend’s condition for himself.
He pushed open
the door into
“Chip?”
“He’s in there,
Captain,” the doctor said, rising and gesturing toward the curtained area that
Crane was so very familiar with himself.
“Since it appeared you weren’t going to need the private room yourself, I figured he might as well enjoy all the
amenities we have to offer.”
“Thanks, Jamie. What’s his condition?”
“He’ll do. I may insist on your including a corpsman as
a regular member of every shore party from now on... at least the ones you or Mr. Morton are
involved in. If it hadn’t been for Steve
and his care... it might have turned out
differently.”
Crane sighed
his exhaustion - and his relief. “Can I
see him?”
“Sure, Skipper. Then you’d better let me take a look at you. I’ve seen you look considerably better.”
“I’m heading
for my rack as soon as I’ve seen Chip.”
“Unless some
other emergency comes up. Yes, I know
you, Captain. But with Morton down, and
Bobby O’Brien aboard the prize sub we’ve got to keep you well.”
Lee smiled. “I’m not arguing this time, Jamie. Five minutes to make sure Chip’s still among
the living and I’m heading to my quarters.”
“I’ll hold you
to that, Captain.”
Lee nodded and
pulled aside the curtain to the more private area of the
“Chip, ol’
buddy,” he began, but his voice broke and whether it was exhaustion or emotion
he could not have said.
“Lee... that you...? Makin’ all the noise?”
He
straightened, his smile returning as Chip Morton’s lids swam upward and the
sapphire-blue eyes glittered at him. He
moved his hand, lifting his friend’s arm and gripping the other man’s forearm,
feeling Morton’s weakened grip on his own wrist.
“You had me
scared, Chip. Thought you were better at
dodging than that.”
Morton smiled
distantly, his eyes closing. “We can
argue that later.”
“That we can do. I’m just glad you’re still around to argue
with.”
“Umm-hmm,”
Morton mumbled and Lee knew he had heard everything from him that he was going
to hear for a while.
He started to
remove his hand from Chip’s, but the sleeping man’s fingers tightened on his
own wrist. He stood without moving for a
long while then at last he pulled up the single straight-backed chair next to
the bed and sat down, sighing raggedly as his overworked muscles screamed in
protest. At last he rested his head
against the narrow mattress next to their linked hands. He would go to his cabin in a few minutes. Right now it was good enough just to sit
here... knowing Chip was going to be all
right, that the crew of the Seaview
was safe, and confident that Kenneth Aldemar’s madness was safely ended. His eyes closed at last and his breathing
deepened.
Will Jamieson
pulled aside the curtain when the captain did not reappear. He had not expected to find him asleep, but
he knew it shouldn’t have surprised him.
He opted to leave him undisturbed, to get whatever sleep he could. Tomorrow would be another day.
End