My Journal by Harriman Nelson - Transitions
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TRWD33

My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
33

By the time I’d returned to the Wardroom, Emmie, Edith, and Mrs. C. were no longer there. I had no appetite and simply poured myself a cup of coffee into a recyclable paper cup with lid and went forward.

As we entered the Control Room via the aft hatch, Joe, with Sparks, was too busy checking a printout to acknowledge me. I could see down to the Observation Nose that Jiggs was watching the bubbles as Seaview sailed under the loch, and the girls were looking at layettes on Edith’s laptop at the conference table. Why they were using her laptop instead of Emmie’s I had no idea.
Chip was checking a printout from the computer, and after he logged the results onto a clipboard, handing it to O’Brien, I took him aside.
“Lee’s resuming command as soon as Doc cleans him up.”
Chip furrowed his brows.
“He thinks he’s ready, and so do I. With that full dose of meds out of his system, he’s fully cognitive.”
“What about the pain, and weakness?”
“He thinks he can handle it, but he is allowing a quarter strength of the pain-killer.”
“A quarter dose? It won’t work.”
“Not very well, I agree, but he’s adamant that he wants a clear mind.”
“But….”
“What’s our depth?” I changed the subject, knowing full well that Chip, as XO, could remove Lee from command, though Lee could challenge that, being cognizant, and for the fact that we weren’t under Navy rules and regulations.
“One hundred feet, sir. Seaview and the Flying Sub are still following the bio signals of the creatures but visibility has been negative in this peat bog for both.”
“Keep at it,” I told him, patting his arm, then headed to the nose.

Just as I’d taken the lounger next to Jiggs in the Observation Nose, Will stomped down the spiral ladder and stepped directly to the sideboard, slid one of the cabinets open, and pulled out a bottle of scotch. As Emmie, Edith, and Mrs. C. looked on disapprovingly, and I raised an eyebrow, Will gulped down several swallows straight from the bottle. Then took it with him to the empty lounger on the far port side, turning his back on us.
Winston suddenly ran down the ladder and waited at the foot of it, looking up and wagging his tail.
Lee, in crisp but ill-fitting uniform that was open at the neck, and pristine shoes and socks, strode down, one hand gripping the side rail, the other holding the cane but not using it.
Mine wasn’t the only eyebrow raised in response to his new eyepatch, not the black one I’d seen Ski retrieve from his desk, but a red one. The eyepatch didn’t cover all of the white packing and only emphasized the horrendous injury he’d endured.
Areas of bandaging puffed out areas of his shirt, front and back, and his shirt sleeves. His damp curls strayed over his forehead, and his various shiny scalp patches. The laceration on his forehead to his check was smeared with fresh Iodine, as I supposed all of his open or stitched wounds had been while Will, Frank, and Ski had cleaned him up for the morning.
“Easy, Winston,” Lee said as he stepped on deck, continued to hold the ladder’s rail, and bent down to pet his dog. “I know you’re happy, but take it easy or your tail will fall off.”
The he saw Will, his back still toward us.
“ I hope…that booze is medicinal, Will.”
“Damn right, it is,” Will answered without turning to face his patient.
“Lee, sweetie,” Mrs. C. said, “Do you know you smell?
“Surgical antiseptic. Will’s fault. He wouldn’t let… me shower.”
“Not till all the stitches knit,” Will said, turning, furious. “Where are your cleansing wipes? That dog fur is very unhygienic,”
“So is my… month old toothbrush, but you... didn’t fuss when I… used it a few…minutes ago.”
“Sweetheart,” Mrs. C. said, “Perhaps you should listen to him....”
“I have a boat…to drive.”
“What?” Jiggs asked.
“He’s resuming command,” Chip said as he walked over, pouting.
“Against medical advice,” Will said.
“I may be a mess,” Lee said, “but I can still think. And it’s…been cleared …by Washington. If it makes all of you happy, I’ve allowed Will to… give me a quarter dose of… that God-awful med.”
“I already told you a quarter dose won’t keep you from collapsing in agony!” Will said.
“I haven’t… collapsed yet, Doctor, so chill!”
“I don’t know how long you’ll be able to think clearly, hurting like I know you are and…”
“You think I’d… put Seaview… at risk? I’ll know… if I can’t continue…and will… have Chip relieve…me.”

Joe came over with his printout and handed it to Chip,
“How many?” Chip asked.
“We stopped counting at five hundred.”
“Seems you’re too famous for your own good, Lee,” Chip said. “These are requests for shipboard interviews with you.”
“He can barely say two words without gasping in pain,” Will complained, “He’s got damaged ribs, a gunshot wound, deep tissue bruising and....”
“Enough already!” Lee yelled, “I already…admitted to you that… I feel like shit. I can handle it. Chip? If ONI and…MI-6 clear an interview, we’ll agree to it. Make it the BBC. Everything took…place in their neck of… the woods.”
“You’re the skipper,” Chip said without enthusiasm, and headed back to the Radio Shack.

Cookie chose that moment to enter the Control Room from the aft hatch, carrying a large paper cup with a straw stuck in the middle of it. In minutes he had handed it to Lee.
“It’s green,” Lee said looking at the ‘shake’ with disgust.
“Well, kind of hard for green peas and broccoli not to be…I also put in ice cream.”
“I’m sure you meant well…but…It looks like… something for Kermit the Frog.”
“Pledge of good faith,” Joe said as he hurried to the sideboard and pulled out a spoon from a drawer, then dipped it into the shake. “I promise you an unbiased opinion.”
With that he inserted the spoon into the makeshift smoothie and twirled his tongue around it. “Can’t tastes the broccoli. The pea mush is good. And the ice cream adds a nice touch. I’d say go for it.”
“Skipper?” Sparks called out interrupting, “message from ONI.”
“You stay here,” Joe told him. “Try it. I’ll go see what they want from you.”
“I hope they realize you’re not an operative right now, Captain,” Will said sarcastically as Joe headed to the radio and Lee sucked on the straw, grimacing and throwing the makeshift smoothie into the lined wastebasket.
“Sorry Cookie,” Lee said, “must be the meds making my taster off.”
“Oh, yeah, sure thing, Skipper. It happens…er…how about just plain ice cream? Can add some chocolate syrup if you want.”
“No syrup,” Will said.
Before Lee could respond Joe had returned and handed him a communique.
“Oh gawd,” Lee sighed, distressed.
“Bad news?” Jiggs asked.
“ONI says our new… agents in the… field report there’s nothing to… confirm a… network between Ozno and… the People’s Republic’s new chairman.”
“But that’s good news, surely?”
“I know there’s… a connection. I just know it!” Lee fumed.

“I have the BBC waiting,” Chip said, coming over to slide the videophone on the conference table toward the end closest to Lee, the view ports behind him, then turning on the Observation Nose monitor.
“Well, it’s TV time for us, Harry,” Lee said, patting the empty chair next to him as he sat down.
“Us?”
“You don’t think I’m… going through this alone? You’re stuck…with me….”
“Admiral Stark? Doc?” Chip called out, “You might want to move, or you’ll be on the air.”
“No,” Will said. “I’m staying put. I’ll tell the audience that he’s here under my objection and….”
“Move. That’s an order,” Chip said. “I may agree with you that Lee should be in Sick Bay, and knocked out beyond pain, but this is his interview. I won’t have you disrupting it.”
Will, disgusted, removed himself with Jiggs to go stand on the opposite side of the videophone, while the women remained seated in front and behind their end of the conference table.
“Sparks?” Morton called out and the videophone and on air monitor flickered to life.
“…This is the BBC,” the reporter began, “interviewing Captain Nelson-Crane aboard the American submarine Seaview under Scotland’s Loch Ness.
“… Captain, first let us congratulate you for thwarting the acts of terrorism against the United States and the United Kingdom, and for rescuing Her Majesty the Queen and Lady O’Brien from the hands of your captors. What do you think Dr. Ozno’s punishment should be?”
“…He, and his minions… will have to… be judged according…to the laws of the U.K., and the U.S. There should be no… personal or mob reaction.”
“…And the People’s Republic? It was made pretty clear that the former chairman committed suicide to avoid world prosecution for his involvement with Ozno. The new chairman is very open to a new era of detente.”
“…Actually,” Lee paused then, “actually, I’m probably politically incorrect to say so, but… I think the… former chairman’s suicide…was rather too convenient.”
“…What do you mean?” the reporter asked.
“…I only… mean the ‘suicide’ was convenient.”
“…Perhaps we should change the subject, Lee,” I intervened.
“…No,” Lee said firmly. “It needs to be said. What…better way for a false sense of security than that. I’m not sure it was suicide. I’m not even… sure it was murder, or a coup, or some… kind of political subterfuge? Overtures of détente? Peace? Not hardly in my humble opinion. The new chairman was… pretty damn vocal against… the west just like… his predecessor. I think we should be very…hesitant to take anything the People’s Republic says… as truth, think what… you will… of what I believe.”
“…Now would be a good time to go to another topic,” I said. This time Lee didn’t object.
“…Captain,” the reporter acquiesced, though I knew he was just itching to continue with Lee’s tirade, “what do you think about the U.K.’s parliament stripping you of the knighthood the queen gave you?”
“…I was honored by… her sweet gesture, but as an… American I wouldn’t have been… allowed… to accept it anyway.”
“…Do you know when you’ll get a new prosthesis?”
“…Not sure if any will work. Might have to use a glass eye. My optic nerve was… pretty well nibbled on.”
“…Is that red eyepatch one of your own, or your Sick Bay issue?”
“…My own. I had a few different… colors that Melody liked me to… wear with different cummerbunds when I had… to wear a tuxedo. For some… reason I’d saved them. I just felt festive today, being back aboard Seaview. We match,” he said with a grin that almost made me forget the politically incorrect statements a few minutes ago.
“… And what about those artificial skin patches? Will they be able to grow hair? And if not, what you feel about being semi bald in areas?”
“…I’m not sure about… them growing hair. But you know, I’ve always…been judged by my looks. Now at… last I have… a chance to be… judged on my mind, what there is of it,” he laughed.
“…There’s been talk in the scientific community that you should have allowed Admiral Nelson to tag the Loch Ness creatures.”
“…I only…suggested that we don’t… use anything invasive. Darts would hurt them.”
“…Admiral?”
“…As a scientist,” I said, “I had to weigh the benefits of learning more about them, against their right to be left in peace. Our bio scanners have been obtaining a great deal of information which we’re transmitting to the geophysical and geographical societies.”
“…When will Seaview be hosting those lunches or dinners for the queen and Lady O’Brien and ohymygod!”
We turned to see what the reporter was pointing at.
The kelpie was playing in front of the nose.
“That’s no hologram,” Chip verified from the Control Room’s instruments.
Lee, hurrying to get up, was helped by Joe taking his arm and helping him get to the viewports. I followed in fast pursuit leaving the videophone on without so much as an ‘excuse us’.
“Hey rascal,” Lee was saying, as he ran his hand over the viewport.
“He likes you,” Mrs. C. said joining him with the rest of the crowd, as the kelpie tried to nuzzle Lee’s hand against the port.
“Chip?” I called out, “Divers! No physical contact unless the creature initiates it. Have them get scrapings of that snot.”
Lee moved his hand around in circles against the port to see if the kelpie would follow it.
It did.
“Wish I… could come out and play too,” Lee ‘told’ the kelpie.
“You know,” Joe said, “even if it’s a youngster, I bet you could ride him like a horse.”
“Ride ‘em’… cowboy?” Lee laughed. “It would… be fun, wouldn’t it.”
“Uh oh, looks like ‘mom’ doesn’t want it to play with us anymore.”
The ‘Loch Ness Monster’, had just swum into view and came closer. It nuzzled the kelpie and placed its large flipper around it, and licked the viewport just where Lee’s hand was. Then, with a whoosh of bubbles, both swam away into the oblivion of the peaty water.
“Divers in the water,” Chip called out, “but the bio signals are too fast for them to follow. They’ll get your snot and goo samples to the lab as soon as possible after they swab for them.”
“…What do you think now, Admiral,” the reporter, still connected through the videophone, asked from behind us, “about not having tagged the creatures?”
“…I think we’ve already discussed this,” I said, offering my arm to Lee, who was struggling to walk back. Soon, we were seated again.
“…You might not ever see them again.”
“…Perhaps not,” I answered, “but the bio scans and mucosal DNA will help us learn more.”
“…Captain, to change the subject, our sources tell us that MI-6 and Scotland Yard have released your broken rings from their evidence packages. Will you be repairing them?”
“…I don’t think they… can be. But if… some jeweler wants… to try, fine by me.”
“Skipper?” Sparks called out, “Washington calling. The president. Secure line. Your cabin.”
“…Duty calls,” Lee told the reporter, and stood up.
“…One last thing, sir. What do you think about the nickname of ‘Goodheart’ that’s going around for you now?”
“…What? Haven’t… heard about that… please, folks, I’m just…a sub driver. I’m no knight in… shining armor.”
“…I’m sorry,” Chip said planting himself in front of the videophone, “we have to end the interview. Washington’s getting impatient.”
“…Yes, of course,” the reporter said. “Thank you for speaking with us, Captain, Admiral. Best wishes.”
With that Chip turned the videophone off and Sparks cut the connection except for the Observation Nose monitor.
Lee, accepting the cane Joe had retrieved, but extending his other arm for Joe’s support, headed aft, Winston at his feet.
I stayed behind, knowing that if I was wanted I would have been summoned as well.

“…The BBC,” the reporter, on the monitor was saying, “takes you now to the man in the street, figuratively at least from in front of our studios to see what you, the public, think about the captain’s interview… ”
“…Well,” an old man bundled up in a heavy coat under an umbrella said, “I think the captain’s a man of great wisdom. And if he doesn’t want to be called ‘Goodheart’, it won’t stop me from callin’ him that.”
“…I think,” a professional looking woman in a matching coat and umbrella said, “the Yanks would be foolish not to ask him to be president. I know I’d feel a whole lot better with him at the top.”
“…Well,” a teenager girl with orange and purple hair, in jeans and heavy pullover said, “I think that even with all those injuries, the captain’s even more attractive now. Sooo devastatingly manly,” she oozed.
“…I think that the Loch Ness Monster and Rascal and any others like them,” a woman said, “should be placed on the endangered species list and that they shouldn’t be tagged with darts and the like, just like the captain doesn’t want them to be.”
“…I sure hope,” a middle aged man said, “that he’s not in too much trouble with his government for saying all that anti-People’s Republic stuff. It’s one thing to have the freedom of speech the Yanks are always saying is their right, but when it comes to a naval officer, and he is that, even if he’s not on active duty, well, it’s a whole different kettle of fish. Mark my words, Goodheart could be in deep deep trouble with the Oval Office.”
Indeed, I mused, Lee was possibly getting a tongue lashing right now.
“…Post your comments to our website,” the reporter concluded, “now we return to our regularly scheduled programming….”

“C’mon, Jiggs,” I said, “Perhaps we should go try to rescue Lee or at least interrupt things. You too, Will. You might be needed.”
When Jiggs, Will, and I arrived at Lee’s cabin, we found the door was closed, and Joe pacing the deck in front of it. At least we didn’t hear any raised voices from inside.
Lee emerged a short time later, Winston at his side.
“Going to Ft. Leavenworth, bro?” Joe asked, extending his arm, though Lee didn’t take it, supporting himself with the cane.
“No, but… Winston might be. Growled at Avery. I’m fine, Will.”
“And?” I asked.
“I’m on report. For violation of Naval SOP’s and…Avery still wants…to step down…can’t say I blame…him for wanting to run away from everything. He feels incapable of… making heavy decisions.”
“He didn’t pester you to take office, did he?” Jiggs asked.
“He asks every… time we speak…don’t worry, there are still a… few substitutes that… haven’t reneged on… their oaths, no matter what anybody says. Will? Avery… always gives me a headache or …an upset stomach. Sometimes both, like now.”
“You lie down,” Will ordered Lee. “I’ll be right back with something for both, and no, they won’t knock you out.”
Lee picked the dog up and put him on the bunk and lay down on it. I knew Will was going to have a hissy when he returned.
But he didn’t, and simply injected Lee with something he said would stop the upset and headache shortly. Without any ‘adverse’ side effects.
“I’ll check back on you in an hour,” he told Lee and clicked off he overhead light.
“I’ll sit with him,” Joe said.
“I want him to rest, not talk shop.”
“Go ahead, Joe,” Lee said as he closed his eyes. “I could use a nap.”

While Jiggs and Joe returned to the Observation Nose and Will probably to Sick Bay, I headed to lab to check on the swabs of nose snot and tongue lick the divers had obtained and put in the lab. But I couldn’t concentrate, gave up, and headed back to the nose myself, hopefully to spend a little time with Emmie, if I didn’t have to wade through layettes on Edith’s laptop that was.

My Journal 34