My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

9

I was awakened this morning by the sound of the klaxon, warning all hands about something that had happened or was going to happen, but I was not expecting what the problem was.

“All hands,” Kowalski panted over the PA, “the skipper’s prosthesis was just stolen by Maleficent. We chased   her down companionway B-7, but lost her. Anyone finding her, use caution and.....”

 “I’ll take it, Ski,” Lee interrupted, out of breath, “do not, I repeat, do not attempt to retrieve the eyeball as she might only sink her  claws or teeth into it deeper, not to mention trying to disembowel anyone trying to take it from her. Chief Sharkey, assign any available men for search parties. Include the ventilation shafts. Remember, she’s good at climbing up on things and prying them open. Control Room, use the monitor cams to scan all sections of the boat. Chip, join the search and do what you can to get her to come to you.”

“Er, Skipper,” Ski said, “you’d better get to Sick Bay.”

“Why?” I asked urgently, as I reached over from my bunk to the intercom on my desk, “why does he need Sick Bay?”

“He’s bleeding all over the deck…Mallie swiped him good.”

“I’m fine,” Lee said. “A little iodine and I’m good to go.”

“You’re going to Sick Bay anyway,” I said. “As you’ve told me, I might not be authorized to make any orders this cruise, but I can certainly ‘suggest’ Morton to relieve you of command if you don’t get to Sick Bay.”

“Oh c’mon!” Lee whined.

“This is Morton. You heard him, Skipper. I’ll assume command on medical reasons if I have to. Go to Sick Bay and I’ll only think about it.”

“All right, all right, Cheech, gang up on me won’t you. Ski? Join the search parties. And remember, she bites.”

“Aye sir, but…”

“O’Brien, will you quit dabbing my forehead and hands with that damn hankie? Where’s it from anyway? It has lace and writing on it.”

“It…was a souvenir…”

“The Kitty Cat Club? You’re a married man, Frank!”

“It was a bachelor party for a friend of mine and….”

“Kowalski,” I interrupted, “escort the captain to Sick Bay. No  detours.”

“Why does everybody aboard this boat think I need mothering?” Lee complained as he clicked off the mike.

“Because you do!” Chip said. “And Ski? I want signed documentation from Doc that one, the captain reported to Sick Bay as ‘suggested’, and two, that he has clearance from Doc to return to duty when he exits Sick Bay.”

“Aye sir.”

“How the hell did the kitty get his eyeball?” Joe asked as he joined me for breakfast shortly after in the Observation Nose.

“You know as much as I do,” I said as I glanced at the scrolling wall monitor as it showed all possible interior camera shots.

“Not a sign of her,” Lee sighed, as he strode down the spiral stairs. “Not so much as a trail of hairballs.” 

He clicked on the mike. “This is the captain. Call off the search, but keep an eye out. Sorry, didn’t mean that as a pun.”

“You okay, bro?” Joe asked as we looked at the bandages on his forehead, cheek, hands, and peeking out from under the bottoms of his sleeves..

“Skipper!” Kowalski yelled over the PA before Lee could give us his usual ‘I’m fine’ lie. “She’s amidships! Frame B-35!”

O’Brien tuned the monitor cams to auto track. We watched in horror as the prosthesis was clattering down the stairway.

Maleficent kept pouncing down the steps after it. Catching it after it crashed onto the deck, she batted it across the companionway, sending it smack into the bulkhead. Then she escaped capture by Ski and other crewmen by scooping up the eyeball in her mouth, and racing off down toward and into the crew’s mess where its monitor cam picked up the action.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” Cookie said trying to lure her into an empty box.

But she had other ideas on her mind, and jumped up onto the ‘tween through’s countertop, and whacked it straight into the pot of bubbling tomato sauce.

Cookie managed to bring the box he had down over Mallie, still on the counter, just as Chip raced in.

“Chip, put the cat under house arrest,” Lee ordered. “Seal off your cabin vent before you let her out of the box or put her in the carrier. Cookie? Just dig the eyeball out, rinse if off and put it in a cup or something and bring it to Sick Bay.”

“Lee,” Chip clicked the galley mike, “I…can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“Just keep the cat out of my way. And tell her she’s fired.”

I didn’t see Lee for the next few hours. I supposed he and Will were busy checking the eyeball for dents and scratches, not to mention feline saliva intrusion, and fang penetration.

There were two choices for lunch as Chip joined Joe and me in the Wardroom. Leftover Calamari bits on salad or spaghetti with Spam meatballs in tomato sauce. I didn’t even ask if the sauce was from the same pot.  Needless to say, there was a run on the salad.

“I guess we have to scrap the mission,” Joe said sadly, toying with his forkful of dingy lettuce leaves.

“We’ll do nothing of the kind,” Lee said, entering, his eye socket empty, no patch covering it.

“But Lee. We need…” Joe said then hesitated. This was not the time nor place to discuss their top secret mission in the hearing of non-authorized personnel.

Lee decided on the spaghetti and tomato sauce. I think we all cringed. Then he clicked the mike, “This is the captain. I’ve been reliably informed by Doc and Cookie that the spaghetti sauce, having been boiled to the point of sterilization is not harmful for consumption. That is all.”

Chip decided to follow his lead and scooped a serving of spaghetti and the sauce onto his plate. Joe followed suit. Soon just about everyone in the Wardroom, and I suppose down in the crew’s mess as well, were enjoying the Mediterranean fare. Sort of. Maybe. It really wasn’t up to anyone’s standard for spaghetti. When I casually asked Cookie about the recipe, he revealed that since there wasn’t any of the canned tomato sauce aboard, he’d used tomato and V-8 juice instead. But he admitted that he’d used dehydrated bacon bits and onion powder along with a few crushed corn flakes to help thicken it along. 

I offered my congratulations for being so resourceful, biting my lip.

Well, at least it wasn’t Spam.  And nobody traded dishes, as Lee hadn’t given anyone leeway to do so, like he had yesterday.

After supper, and in the privacy of his cabin, Lee told me that the prosthesis was wearable, but that the vision was blurred and the X-ray vision didn’t work. Neither did the heat sensors (another little extra he hadn’t told me about). He’d be in touch with Bethesda, however, to see what we might do to correct the problems.  As for the light beam, especially the narrow one, well, let’s just say that Mallie still had a toy.

He showed me how Mallie must have opened the drawer where he kept the eyeball when he wasn’t using it. From now on, he was going to make sure he locked the drawer. Mallie might be smart but she wasn’t a locksmith.

 When I told him I wasn’t happy about him continuing the mission, he insisted he had enough field agent experience that he could still complete the assignment without the prosthesis. He’d only have to think of something to get himself invited into the habitat itself. Perhaps use Sick Bay’s portable X-ray machine.

Chip knocked on the door, and Lee opened it to reveal that Chip was carrying Mallie.

“I thought I told you to put her under house arrest,” Lee said.

“She wants to apologize.”

“Uh huh.”

“I told her you’d play with her.”

“After what she did?”

“She thought it was a toy, and you shouldn’t have made it so easy for her to get to. Here,” Chip said handing the cat to Lee, “tell her you’re sorry.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake. She doesn’t even know what she did. And she can’t understand what you said.”

Just then Mallie began to purr.

“Okay, okay, you’re forgiven.”

“Lee’s light beam still works,” I said with a smirk.

“I was right when I said you two gang up on me,” Lee said as he sat Mallie down on the bunk and retrieved his eyeball, inserting it. In minutes he was aiming a narrow beam all over the cabin for the frisky cat.

“I, er, guess that means she still our ship’s cat?” Chip asked.

“Yeah. Never took her off the roster anyway.”

After awhile I headed back to my own cabin, leaving the boys, added by the appearance of Joe, to play with Mallie and talk shop. What Admiral Cartwright will say is anyone’s guess.