3

TRWD3

The rain smashed against Seaview’s view ports. I had to wonder if Lee’s plans to fly from Washington via chopper would have to be scrapped.

I decided to prep the Flying Sub, and had Sparks contact the White House to inform them that it would be available.

The reply came from Abernathy himself in an email to the effect that he, the new president, would only sanction official transportation that the former president was entitled to. And that the ‘no fly’ zone had been extended to include the Potomac River. Period.

Kowalski, topside, cleared his throat over the PA.
“Admiral Starke is requesting permission to come aboard.”
“What?” I said, clicking the mike, “Jiggs is here? Well, don’t let him stand there! Send him down!”

Soon my old friend was shaking off his raincoat and umbrella at the base of the Control Room ladder.
“Jiggs, welcome aboard!” I said, grabbing his shoulders, “What the devil are you doing here?”
“Thought you could use a friend right now.”
“That’s for sure. At least I was totally vindicated. Come with me to the nose. Let’s break out one of the bottles of champagne I’ve reserved for my special guests.”
“Including Lee, I hope. Did you know there’s some wagering going on about his resumption of command? Unofficially, of course, depending on which states allow gambling. I put down $100 that he will. I also put down a small amount for you as well…or did I waste my money?”
“He hasn’t spoken to me. Not about command, not about last night…damn, I can’t get the cork out….”
“Let me.”

And so he popped the cork and enjoyed the bubbly, lukewarm as it was, when O’Brien approached asked if we’d like the monitor turned to CNN.

The broadcast was primarily recaps of the inauguration and of the inaugural brunch, while the new president was enjoying a lobster salad. There were only a few other semi newsworthy fillers. Jiggs was going to turn the monitor off until something caught his interest. The bottom logo indicated Loch Ness, Scotland.

“….Well, I’ll tell you,” an overcoat clad Scotsman was telling a reporter in front of a mist covered lake, “there’s a long history of the monsters in the loch. I’m not the first to have seen the kelpie.”

“What the heck is a kelpie?” I muttered, confused.
“A kelpie is a mythological creature,” O’Brien, back in the Control Room, called out. “It’s half horse on the top, half mermaid on the bottom. I guess you’d call it a mer-horse.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” Jiggs laughed.
“Well, that’s the legend, anyway,” O’Brien said.

“…Mr. McDonald,” the reporter continued, “just when did you see this creature?”
“…It were in the wee hours. Right here, next to the loch, munching down some heather. Mind you, right then, he were just a horse. A stallion, black as death. Red eyes glinting in the moonlight; his thick long tail was down to his hooves. His wavy mane were thick and tangled, down to his belly. Well, he spotted me, and quick as could be, he reared up and gave a neigh that could wake the dead. I thought I was a gonner’, so I did. But he turned and splashed into the loch and dove under. That’s when I saw he were really a kelpie with a great long fishy tail, like in them drawings of mermaids. And he stayed there.”
“…You saw all this in nothing but moonlight?”
“…Aye, it were a full moon.”
“…Your friends said you were at the pub most of the night.”
“…Aye, I not be denying it. But I know what I saw after hours. I’ve also seen Nessie too, only that were long ago and….”
“…Thank you, Mr. McDonald,” the reporter interrupted, “back to breaking news from Washington.”

“…The inaugural brunch is over,” the anchor was saying, “and we’re waiting for Ex-President Nelson-Crane to depart for the Norfolk Navy Base. However, due to inclement weather he may be delayed. Official helicopters reserved for non-incumbent presidents or guests have been grounded. We’ve also learned that the Seaview’s Flying Sub won’t be allowed to fly over the Potomac, so it too is essentially grounded. Nelson-Crane may have to remain as a guest at the White House or at a hotel if he prefers, until the weather clears.”

“Over my dead body!” I spouted and dug out my cell phone and called Lee.
“This number is no longer in service,” the recording said.

“…Stewards,” a reporter in the field was saying outside the portico gates, “are beginning to bring out luggage and pet supplies to load into a cab, a police escort with it. So, it looks as if Nelson-Crane has managed to find alternative transportation to the Norfolk Naval Base. Missy is not too happy about being incarcerated in her carrier, but it’s doubtful she can get a presidential pardon to get out of it.
“…Ah, here comes President Abernathy with Mrs. Crane. As you know she’s agreed to continue on as First Lady for the bachelor president.”

Suddenly Winston ran out from the open door, his leash dragging as a steward ran after him, finally capturing the leash and with a few other stewards, grabbing and pushing him into his carrier and loading him into the back seat of the cab, leaving little room for another passenger.

“…Here comes Ex-President, Lee Nelson-Crane. Or should I say captain, if that uniform means anything.”

Was that proof of Lee’s decision? God, I hoped so.

“…A salute for the new president, and a hug and kiss for his mother, and Captain Nelson-Crane enters the cab, a rather tight fit. We’ve been informed by the White House Press Secretary that the ex-president will be driven to the Greyhound Bus Terminal for the trip to Norfolk that’s scheduled to leave shortly. And there he goes. Police have cordoned off the waiting and loading areas to protect the former president from any unwanted press. He’ll have to put up with fellow passengers through.”

"A bus?"Jiggs said, aghast." A former president taking a bus? Damn it, he's entitled to government transportation, a sedan, a limo…”
"Yes," Joe said from the spiral stairs, in a uniform from stores, " but he and Charles, er, President Abernathy, didn't exactly see eye to eye on things. Lee thinks the bus is the best option since most flights have been cancelled. So far the roads are only wet, not flooded and the wind should'd have a problem pushing a heavy bus off the tarmac. Lee phoned me about the bus schedule a little while ago. By the way Abernathy’s upset he opted out of having any secret service agents to protect him from now until doomsday.”
“Why didn’t Lee call me?” I demanded. “Just because I can’t reach him by phone doesn’t mean he can’t reach me, or at least Seaview.”
“I wouldn’t know sir.”
“…There are three schools of thought regarding the former president’s plans now. One, and it’s still up there in limbo, is that he’ll resume command of the Seaview. Two, that he’ll return to the NCIMR offices even if he does or doesn’t set foot on the sub again. Or three, that he’ll retire and spend the remainder of his days resting on his laurels, and perhaps travel, and write a book…”
“…Or sponsor Lamborghini ads,” another reporter laughed.

“That was uncalled for,” Jiggs said, disgusted. “The Lamborghini was a gift.”

“…There remains the problem of just how to address him,” the reporter continued. ‘Mr. President’, ‘Captain’, ‘Hey You’…”

“O’Brien?” I called out, “check with the White House Protocol Office. Find out the correct term of address for an ex-president who’s also Navy Reserve.”

“…Actually,” the reporter was saying, “‘president’ can be used, but it’s not really correct though very commonly used. A former president is technically ‘the honorable’. I’m not sure how that fits with Nelson-Crane being a Naval Reserve captain, though.”

“Harriman,” Jiggs said, “I have to tell you while I’m thinking about it that ex-presidents are known to have difficulty returning to their normal lives. The transition back could be stressful for Lee and for you. Want me stay aboard for a little moral support for the cruise home?”
“I’ll just be glad he’s back aboard Seaview, no matter how much emotional baggage he carries with him from the White House. But I’d be very happy to offer you a ride home.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Chip said as he approached, in soaked rain gear, “I’ve seen Ensign Simpson. I’m pretty sure he had only planned on a practical joke to famous visitors. By the way, Lee’s bus has been slightly delayed due to some highway accidents.”
“So,” Joe said, “who wants to go pick him up at the bus station before he has to get a cab or rent a car? If there’s no police protection for the station here, he could be swamped by the press and public, so it could be difficult for him to do himself.”
“O’Brien told me,” Chip began, “that Admiral Connors has a sedan ready and waiting to go pick him up and bring him to the base for an official welcome.” “Have O’Brien Inform Admiral Connors, I said, “that we appreciate the offer but have arranged to pick up ‘the honorable’ Nelson-Crane ourselves. Perhaps we can combine the welcoming ceremony.”
“Aye, sir.”
Well,” I said after Chip returned from his task, “I’m pretty sure Lee would prefer a rental.” I reached for my wallet, which of course wasn’t there, “Sorry, forgot…Joe? We need to use your credit card. You and Chip take a cab to the bus station an hour before Lee’s bus is due and stop by whatever rental agency there that you prefer to pick out a car. Something big enough for him, both of you, the animals and all the luggage. Lee’s probably included yours, Joe, with his. Make it a vehicle he can drive if he wants.”
And so Jiggs and I waited, watched the news, had a game of chess, and finally Chip and Joe, suitably attired in dress blues, reliable raincoats and plastic covered covers, left for the bus station.
I had to wonder what kind of vehicle they’d rent. Chip and I had already received temporary driver’s licenses from the DMV at the request of the DOD which had hurried things along, but still, we didn’t know if Hertz would honor it should Chip be selected to drive.

Most of the news for the next hour were replays of inauguration events.
“If you check your watch anymore,” Jiggs told me as we had a few sandwiches in the Wardroom, “and it’ll fall off.”
“Can’t help worrying about him.”
“I know.”

Finally the news turned to the bus station.

“….President Nelson-Crane’s bus has arrived. I’m sorry we can’t bring you better pictures, as we’ve been cordoned off by police and If I’m not mistaken, Commander Morton of the Seaview and Commander Jackson, former aide and one of Nelson-Crane’s at the White House are getting out of a red mini-van in the pick- up zone.”

For the next few minutes, one by one, the passengers emerged from the bus which had parked under the awning, and were slow to join their families and friends and retrieve their luggage, until there was an explosion of applause as Lee stepped down, carriers in each hand.
“…There he is!” the reporters shouted, “Mr. President, how was your trip?”
“…Why didn’t you just stay in Washington until the storm cleared?”
“…Why…”
Lee grinned and sat the carriers down on the pavement. “It was a very pleasant ride. My thanks to an exceptional driver in this weather, and to the Highway Patrol, and to Greyhound.”
“…Your seating was a bit cramped, though, wasn’t it?”
“…I was quite comfortable, though I’m sure Winston will want a walk as soon as we reach the base.”
“…Will you be resuming command of Seaview?”

There it was, the moment of truth I’d been dreading.

“…I’ll admit that I’ve had doubts about resuming command permanently, but I will resume it initially for an expedition we’ll be taking right away to Scotland.”

“What expedition?” Jiggs asked me.
“I have no idea.”


“…What will you be doing in Scotland?,” one of the reporters asked.
“…Seaview is going to Scotland to investigate Mr. McDonald’s kelpie.”
“…The mer-horse?”
“…That’s right. I think we owe it to the scientific community to determine just what it was. A legend come to life, or at least exposure, or a mutation of some kind, or nothing of the kind.”
“…Admiral Nelson thinks a fairy tale creature is real?”
“…Actually, I haven’t spoken to him about it yet. But I’m sure he’ll as curious about the sighting as I am.”

I groaned.

“…You can just decide Seaview’s expeditions at the snap of a finger?” someone in the crowd asked, “without even checking with Admiral Nelson first? Isn’t there a list of clients waiting for the submarine’s services?”
“…This expedition shouldn’t interfere or delay any waiting clients. Trust me, I made sure of that. At least Mr. Ames did.”
“…What if Admiral Nelson objects to his submarine being used for a frivolous cruise like this?”
“…First, if I know Harry like I think I do, he won’t consider any kind of scientific expedition as frivolous. And I own Seaview equally with him, don’t forget.”

Chip and Joe greeted Lee with snappy salutes which Lee returned and began to help him load up the mini-van, while police and Greyhound officials helped to keep the press and most of the visiting public away, though Lee was very gracious with his fellow passengers, and there was a lot of hugging and shaking hands going on.

“…There’s Nelson-Crane’s wonderful smile as Commander Morton and Commander Jackson finish loading up the red van. It appears to be a Hertz rental and the former president is getting into the driver’s seat. Commander Morton takes the passenger seat and Commander Jackson is in the back seat, the pets and luggage in the storage unit. President, or rather Captain Nelson-Crane again, gives the police escort a thumbs up, turns the headlights wipers on, and begins the short trip to the Norfolk Naval Base with a police car escort. It’s unknown if he requested them or if the White House did. But with this storm, it’s probably most welcome to follow the leader if he hasn’t been stationed here before.”

The storm only got worse, and I had visions of Lee careening out of control on the slick windswept highway. The downpour was so bad Connors and I both agreed to cancel our planned honor guards. Oh, Lee would be welcomed aboard by both of us, but not outside in the pouring rain.

“At the gate!” Sparks called out and the men huddled around every monitor tuned to the deck cam. Connors had also released the base’s cam to Seaview, so we had several views of Lee’s progress to the dock.

The gate’s guard saluted even before Lee showed his ID and waved farewell to the police escort.

From the deck cam, we saw the mini-van drive up to the dock, where our gangplank had been protected with a plastic tunnel rain tarp which looked more and more as if it would blow away.
Kowalski, who’d begged for the duty, with two heavily clad deckhands saluted and handed the mini-van’s occupants hooded ponchos and galoshes once the sliding doors opened.
Two more crewmen hauled the luggage and pet carriers from the mini-van and up into the tunnel gangplank to the base of the conning tower and down with them from the topside ladder to the Control Room.

Joe, suitably protected from the deluge, got out of the vehicle, but waited just under the tunnel for Chip and Lee.
Chip got out first and rounded the front of the mini-van to the driver’s side to wait with Ski, already there, or Lee to exit.
As he did, despite being nearly drowned by the torrents in spite of the poncho or being blown away by the wind, Lee simply looked at Seaview. Just looked at her. Soaking her in. Even I had to chuckle at my mind’s unintentional pun.

It took Chip’s nudge to get him to move.
We could hear them laughing as they reached the deck, and soon climbing down the ladder.
Chip as acting captain was first to hit the Control Room’s deck, Sharkey assisting him to remove his poncho.
“Permission to come aboard?” Joe hollered down.
“As long as you don’t drip on my nice dry deck!”
.
“Permission for me to come aboard too?” Lee hollered down.”
“Well,” Chip hollered back up, let me think about it…”
“Only if you get your sorry butt down here to relieve me of command!”
Lee laughed and climbed down, jumping off the fourth rung from the bottom as was his custom. Joe helped him remove his poncho and galoshes.
“Chip, are you sure?” Lee asked, half hopeful, half afraid. “I know what you said but…”
“Never been more ure of anything in my life. Now, do you relieve me of command or not?”
“I relieve you of command.”
“Then welcome aboard, Skipper,” Chip answered, grabbing Lee’s shoulders, “and welcome home.”
The men that had squeezed into the Control Room applauded and cheered.

“All right, at ease,” Chip ordered. “Let him breathe.”

The men broke up reluctantly, still surrounding Lee with well wishes, insubordinate back slapping and unbridled enthusiasm.
“Where’s Harry?” Lee asked looking around for me.

Like the Red Sea, the men parted to allow a clear view to the Observation Nose.
I put my hands on my hips and pretended to be mad.
“Kelpie hunting, Lee?” I asked incredulous.
“Well, you always did want to return to Loch Ness someday. Why not now?.”
“To hunt for fossils, not some half horse half mermaid!” I said, enveloping him in a bear hug. “Welcome home, son.”
Connors raised his eyebrow almost up to his hairline.
“It’s a father/son, thing,” I heard Jiggs explain to him.
“On behalf of the U.S. Navy,” Connors said, “welcome to Norfolk, Mr. President.”
“Thank you, Admiral Connors, is it? Just captain again, if you don’t mind, sir. Afternoon, Jiggs, Have you both been offered a drink? We’re not a dry boat unless we’re on active status. Joe? Help yourself, and fix me my usual. I promised Mom I’d call, and I need to change. I’m soaked from the knees down. You and Chip need to changes too so hold off until we’re all presentable. Back in a moment, Admiral Connors. I’d like to speak with you awhile before we take Seaview kelpie hunting.”
The boys hurried aft, laughing and back slapping, while I headed to the sideboard to pour out some Johnny Walker for my guests.
It was a short wait, and Lee was last to return, his damp hair combed and in a new pristine uniform. Winston was at his heels. Lee introduced Admiral Connors to Winston who responded with flopping down on his back for a tummy rub.
Joe handed Lee one of the bottled chocolate milks from the sideboard’s fridge. I hadn’t seen any bottled chocolate milk in it before and had to assume some message had come from the White House at some point to the galley to stock it.
Lee sat down in one of loungers, and drank it down gratefully.
“Skipper?” Sharkey asked. “What do you want us to do with the mini-van?”
“One of their reps will come down to get it. Cost a bit extra for the convenience but worth it. Not the kind of vehicle I enjoy driving, but at least it’s red.”
“You wanted to speak with me, Captain?” Connors asked.
“Yes. I think you’re aware of the stunt that Ensign Simpson pulled?”
“Yes, he’ll be punished.”
“Within reason. I don’t want him transferred to the Aleutians or anything like that. I don’t think he really thought about what he was doing.”
“As you wish. And please, consider joining me for supper tonight.”
“Thank you, but I’m a bit anxious to get underway as soon as the rest of the crew is back from shore leave. O’Brien told me we’re only waiting on a few.”
“Of course. I wish you and your men smooth sailing.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lee said rising and escorting him to the topside ladder where Sharkey helped him put on his rain gear. Sharkey followed him up the ladder and down the gangplank to the waiting Navy sedan.
“Harry,” Lee said on his return to the nose. “I need to talk with you. Will you excuse us, Jiggs? Come along, Winston.”
Without waiting for an answer, Lee headed aft, not having expected any kind of objection. Yes, the presidency had changed him in that.
Lee said nothing on the way to his cabin, except to chat briefly with the crewmen who met him along the way.
As soon as we entered his cabin, he closed the door.

“We’re not investigating a kelpie, Harry,” Lee said. “I’m pretty sure it’s a hologram. Actually, I think it’s a rogue military application. Perhaps with artificial intelligence. What better way to test it out, using a stupid sea monster in a place where other monsters are ‘supposed’ to lurk. Maybe even using the abandoned sea lab in Loch Ness.”
“But of what possible use could a hologram be, militarily? A hologram can’t attack anything.”
“Physically, no. But it sure as heck could interfere with our defensive systems. When I mentioned my suspicions to the Secretary of Defense, ONI, and the UK’s MI-6, they thought I was groping at straws…I’m worried, Harry. I think there’s a potential risk that has to be checked out. And what better way to do that than to go on a ‘scientific’ expedition to seek out something so incredibly stupid that nobody in his right mind would think of it being anything other than a drunken old Scot’s imagination or a poor relation to the Loch Ness Monster. But, we have a problem. Whoever’s behind it could become suspicious of us. So, you’re going to go public about me making you go on a ‘fool’s errand’, that we had a major argument about it, and that you’re disgusted with me wasting time and money. You’re also going to take the expense out of my share of our joint assets. You also won’t accompany me on my little hikes around the loch, or trips into the depths of Loch Ness with the Flying Sub with me.
“We’ll be using electronic and microwave sensors to search for any projectors. You, um, think you can handle it? Me being persona non grata with you for awhile?”
“Even to the crew? I doubt if they’d buy it, son. Granted, we’ve had disagreements, but…”
“It’s important they believe we’re at odds with each other, Harry. I want them to call or email their families and friends about it. We can tell them the truth later. Chip’s in on it all. So is Joe.”
“I’ll try but I doubt I can give an Oscar winning performance.”
“Just so the public gets wind of it. It will help keep any rouge scientist off guard.”
“Very well, and here I was thinking we were going to have a nice quiet uneventful cruse home.”
“We will, once I’m satisfied there is no weapon. Or if there is that we destroy it.”.

I didn’t tell him that had mixed feelings about our mission to Scotland. But Lee was home. And that’s all that mattered.