My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
31
“Welcome back, Admiral,”
O’Brien greeted me at the flying sub's Observation Nose hatch. “Is the skipper’s sight back
for good? We’d been a little concerned that it might only be temporary...”
“He’s got it back for
good.”
I swear the entire
compliment in the Control Room sighed in relief.
“He’ll need sunglasses
awhile, to let his eyes get re-accustomed to the light, though...where’s the
cap...where’s Mr. Morton?”
“On the videophone in his cabin. Slight problem back home.”
“I see. Well, have him see
me when he’s free. I’ll be in my cabin.”
“Aye sir. Oh, and Admiral?
Where’s the skipper headed to now? All we know is Italy but Cookie would like
to fix something more specific to the different regional cuisines they have.”
“Er. Venice.”
“Venice?” Riley and Ski
gasped in unison from their stations.
“He’s not undercover this
time,” I scolded, “and he’s with the group. Plus he has Commander Jackson to
babysi...er...guard him from any kind of um...future mishap.”
“Still not a good idea,”
Kowalski muttered.
“Yeah,” Riley said, “it’s
like, well, asking for trouble...”
“The only trouble he’ll
find now,” I said firmly, “is under or over cooked pasta. And maybe a surfeit
of Spumoni.”
“Spu...what?” Ski asked.
“Spumoni. Italian Ice
Cream. A little on the foamy side, usually has fruit and nuts in it. Frankly I
prefer Philadelphia Style Ice Cream.”
“Well, Ice Cream doesn’t
sound bad,” Sparks said.
“And,” I added, “
if the
skipper’s adventurous he might even try Risoto Nero con Seppie...that’s rice
with squid ink and cuttlefish....”
“Eeeyyyoooo!” Riley said,
“that’s disgusting!”
“Just because something
sounds bad, it doesn’t necessarily describe the reality.”
“Oh. Sorry, sir.”
“You, um, know a lot about
Italian food, sir?” O’Brien asked.
“A little. Had an Italian girlfriend when I was stationed there.
Introduced me to the pleasures of Italian cuisine, among other things. Almost
married her...”I added wistfully, then noticed the crew with their mouths
agape.
“I don’t spend all my time
with a microscope you know,” I smirked and headed up the spiral
ladder.
“Man, who’d of thought it,”
I heard Riley whisper to Ski.
"Yeah,”
Ski whispered back, “guess the
‘scientific method’ in bed didn't work with that dame."
“Just because he almost
married her,” Sharkey said, “it don’t mean that they, er...you know. Now,
get your minds outta’ the gutter and back to your consoles. Lt.? I’ll be in the
mess if you need me.”
As I showered and changed I
had to reconsider my image. I really hadn’t thought that the idea of me with a
woman was so...unheard of. Was I really spending too much time with scientific
projects, too much time in the labs, too much time away from the fairer sex? I
might just have to do something about that. The scientific method in bed, indeed.
Though...the idea did
have possibilities....
It wasn’t too long before Chip
arrived.
“How’s Lee?” were
his first
words.
“He’s fine,” I said,
looking up from my computer screen and quickly minimizing the online dating
site. “He’s really fine, Chip. Oh, some of his injuries will take a little time to heal completely, and
I'm pretty sure he
wrenched his ankle at the train platform, but he can see, thank God Almighty, he can see. No medical reason to
think he won’t continue to.”
Chip sat down wearily. “I’m surprised he’s going to finish his damn tour. Why didn’t he
decide to scrub it and just resume command?”
“Didn’t want to hurt Mrs.
Piccadilly’s feelings or quit something he was in the middle of. Simple as
that. As for resuming command,” I hesitated, “Chip, I’m not sure he's planning to.
Didn’t even discuss the topic with me. Not once. Oh, I’ll bring it up, but I
think we should give him a little breathing room. Not to mention the fact that
he’d have to go through quite a few channels to undo his retirement and be
reactivated to the Reserves.”
“But you’re retired and
there’s no problem when they need you. As for the Reserves, can’t he be on
Retired - Special Status like you?”
“Probably, but that doesn’t
mean he wants to....”
“Are you kidding? He lives
and breathes Seaview! It's like he's married to her even, so it can’t be that...or...is it
me? Damn, is he afraid of hurting my feelings, the idiot?”
“Chip,” I said, rising and
putting my arm around his shoulder. “It’s possible, even highly likely he feels
something like that, but, remember, he’s my business partner now...new duties
and responsibilities...”
“That wouldn’t keep the
Lee
I know from taking the conn whenever he has the chance.”
Just then there was a knock
at the door.
“In!” I called out.
“Excuse me, Admiral,”
Cookie said, “But Lt. O’Brien said Mr. Morton was here. Sir, sonar reports
there’s a pod of squid off our starboard side and I was wondering about that
dish the Admiral mentioned to the guys in the Control Room...that con
Seppie...”
“Risoto Nero con Seppie.
It’s a risotto, Chip, made with squid ink.”
“No,” Chip said,
“absolutely not! We’re not sending divers out to catch squid just so you can
make...eeeyyoo, why, it's repulsive!”
“That’s not what the
admiral said.”
“All I said was that a dish isn’t always what it sounds like.”
“I’d also make Calamari
out
of em’," Cookie said, "it’s not like they’re an endangered
species or anything. And there’s a bunch of em’ out there...right in our front yard!”
“Have you ever prepared
squid before?” I asked gently, "from scratch? De beak and skin one? Remove the eyes, and so forth. I'm sure it's a bit
complicated for the prices I've seen in fancy restaurants.”
“Well, no. They didn’t go
into fancy stuff at the Navy Cooking School, but...Sharkey said he'd help....”
“Granted, Sharkey has
his own diner, but I don't think his culinary skills
include delicacies like Calamari or Risoto Nero con Seppie.”
“And,” Chip sighed, “I’m
not sure it’s advisable to harvest a pod of squid as part of an experiment
to feed us, ecologically
speaking. Admiral?”
“I doubt one harvest would
hurt the ecological balance of the Atlantic Ocean. But it’s your call, Chip.”
“Well, it’s not as if we’re
on any kind of alert,” Chip said furrowing his brows, “in fact, I’m still
awaiting your orders on just where we’re supposed to be headed…oh very well. Mr.
O’Brien?” he said as he clicked my intercom, “send out a diving party with nets.
We’re going fishing...for squid. As many as you can catch. Alert Chief Sharkey
that he’ll be on galley duty.”
“Sir?”.
“Just do it,” I ordered.
“Aye, sir.”
“If this little adventure
doesn’t turn out,” Chip warned Cookie, “I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“Oh, it’ll be good sir,
I
promise. But even if it isn’t, at least the guys will be sharing in what the
skipper might be having.”
And so, I keep checking my
watch and tuning into all of Seaview’s cameras to watch the roundup.
It’s almost laughable, the divers trying to catch our dinner, the creature’s
‘skin’ morphing into various colors as they try to flee (they’re pretty good at
it with their air propulsion) and defend themselves. At least they’re not the
giant species that nearly squished Lee to death on his first assignment with
us.
No doubt Lee will get a
kick out hearing about it, should he call tonight. Not sure if he will, as he
and Joe will be in a bit of a rush to join their group and experience
whatever’s on Mrs. Piccadilly’s itinerary, all the food and sights.
The sights, thank God, that
Lee will actually be able to see now, for real.
