My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

4

Most everyone in Admin had gone for the day, so I was surprised that Angie hadn’t.

“Lee’s on the videophone for you, sir.”

“Thank you, Angie. Have a good weekend.”

“Oh, I almost forgot, would you like me to be here for tomorrow’s press conference?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Sir,” she hesitated, worried, “about Ronald Hawthorne…if the new DNA tests prove he’s on the up and up, well, you…you won’t let him replace Lee in your life, will you?”

“Oh my dear,” I said, walking over and giving her a squeeze, “no one, can EVER usurp Lee's place in my heart. He will always and forever, be my ‘number one son’, and I mean that phrase in the most affectionate of terms.”

“Well, I still hope those DNA tests prove negative. I can’t imagine such a greedy, rude man like Hawthorne as your son.”

“Neither can I, but there’s still the possibility,” I sighed

I poured myself a whiskey before returning to my desk and turned on the videophone.

“What the hell happened to you?” I sputtered as the image formed of Lee, sporting what looked like a couple of hastily applied Band Aids above his right eyebrow, and a nasty bruise on his left check.

“Looks worse than it is. How did things go?”

“Never mind how things went. Answer my question!”

“Just a curious baby whale that strayed from its mother. The bump simply caught me off balance and I slipped smack into the periscope island, that’s all. No damage to the boat or crew.”

“Just you,” I sighed, “sometimes, my boy, I think the fates simply delight in keeping Jaimie busy.”

“So, now answer my question.”

“Well,” I began, taking a sip of my whiskey, “we certainly saw their true colors from the spy cam. Something akin to vultures. But they agreed to a new DNA test. While they’ll be at the lab of my choice, the SBPD will be conducting their own little test from DNA we sort of collected on the sly. Damn, I hope they come back negative.”

“Even if you have to wait on the results, you should try to forge some kind of relationship. Even if only pending.”

“How can I? I can never forgive what he said about you."

"That's not important."

"It is to me. Anyway, I’ve arranged for a press conference tomorrow, when the results should be in.”

A knock at the open door interrupted.

“Forget your appointment, Skipper?" Doc asked.

“No,” Lee sighed. “I didn’t forget.” Then he smirked, "just thought I might postpone it a little.”

"Lee," I said, "one of these days we're going to have to have a little talk about your sickbay phobia."

"Hello, Admiral," Doc came around Lee's desk to see me on the videophone. "I'll hold you to that little talk, sir. But don't worry, Admiral. Mr. Morton only said the lacerations looked like might need stitches and the skipper promised him that he'd see me after he attended to some business."

“And that business is over now. Go ahead, Lee."

“Well, good luck, Pop, goodnight,” he said and ended the call.

Pop.

That one endearment he used occasionally used for me, so lifted my spirits that  I knew I’d be able to sleep soundly, secure in the knowledge that even though there may be a new offspring in my life, Lee is still my number one son.