9

TRWD9

My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
9

I was buttoning up my shirt when there was a knock on the door, which I opened to discover Joe, in gray sweats, Winston, without a leash, by his side.
“Care to join us for a little walk?” he asked. “Besides, I need to talk to you about something.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It isn’t…and it concerns Lee and all this Abernathy business.”
“I thought Lee had things pretty well under control.”
“He does, but… do you mind if our walk takes us to the Crew’s Quarters? Apparently Kowalski’s put up a caricature of Lee on the bulletin board. I’d really like to see it.”
“Caricature?”
“Yeah…not really Kowalski’s style but he is talented.”
Soon we were ambling down the companionway.
“Admiral,” Joe continued, “I’m worried. There’ve been disturbing comments by some of the presidential succession. Nothing public, yet.”
I raised my eyebrow.
“Hey, I still have contacts with ONI. Nineteen of the succession list have told their families and friends that they won’t accept the presidency if Abernathy leaves office, that is if the vice president doesn’t take it. And if worst comes to worst, and if all of the succession renege on their availability, you know if Lee’s asked to resume it, he’ll do it out of bull headed duty.”
“But Lee’s already gone public stating the job’s not for him.”
“That wouldn’t stop him if Congress kicks Abernathy out and Hodges won’t step in. That’s crisis enough. Then Congress would sure pressure him to take the job and…well…I think you know what would happen. In fact, I’d bet on it and….”
“Let’s not to jump to conclusions just yet…”
“Lee would be miserable again and you know it. I’d be miserable. You’d be miserable. Chip would be miserable. The whole crew would be miserable and…”
“I get the point, Joseph.”
“As much as I think Abernathy’s guilty of influencing Ensign Simpson, I’d rather he stay in office just to keep Lee safe from the White House.”
“I want to agree with you Joseph, but…”
“Yeah, I know, the country comes first. Duty’s the pits…well, here we are.”
I knocked on the open door frame of the aft crew’s quarters.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” I told the few crewmen there who had all stood up to attention. “At ease. This is a social call.”
“That’s okay, sirs,” a crewman (I didn’t recall his name) said, coming over to pet the waggling dog. “And the skipper’s pooch is always welcome here.”
“We were wondering if we could take a look at Ski’s latest drawing.”
“No problem. Er, try to ignore some of the, er…uh….oh, shit.”
“I’ve seen my share of scantily clad ladies before if that’s what you’re afraid of,” I laughed.

Of course, some of the posted magazine photos of nude girls were models, but there were also photos of bikini clad sweethearts and wives. There were also a few erotic drawings that left nothing to the imagination of what most of the men missed the most.

The drawing in question, however, was pinned to the center of the bulletin board. It was a pen and pencil drawing of Lee, dressed as a cowboy, with an Uncle Sam top hat astride a kelpie that was leaping out of Loch Ness.
“It’s quite good,” I said with a grin.
“Yeah, but will the skipper think so?” another crewman asked, “Ski’s a bit nervous about it.”
“Oh, he needn’t be. I’m sure the skipper will get quite a chuckle out of it if he comes down here to see it. “
“There’s one more thing. Ski sent a couple copies out, one of them a cutout, before the communications ban.”
“Ski should have asked the captain if he could even draw such a thing,” Joe said.
“Let’s leave any second guessing to Lee, shall we?” I answered. Well, Winston?” I asked the dog at our feet, “are you ready to go see your master again now?”
“You know, sir,” Joe said, “maybe Lee would like Ski to do some drawings of Winston and Missy.”
“Not a bad idea. I’ll mention it to him. And Chip might like a drawing of Mallie. Have a good day, men,” I added to the crew as we departed.

Sparks had already tuned the monitors in the Control Room and Observation Nose to CNN by the time we climbed down the spiral ladder into the nose and took our seats. We could see that Chip was watching the Control Room’s monitor, his arms folded over his chest. O’Brien was frowning, and Lee showed no emotion whatsoever. That worried me. He was good at hiding them like that.
“…Of course I’ll be completely vindicated,” Abernathy was telling the reporter, as he got into the presidential limo.
“…President Nelson-Crane made some strong insinuations.”
“….Can anyone take his opinions seriously? He believes in fairy tales! And he’s correctly referred to as the honorable-Nelson-Crane or as Captain Nelson-Crane as he’s no longer president, remember.”
“…He only said he believed Mr. McDonald saw something.”
“…Close enough. The captain’s wasting Admiral Nelson’s time and money. I hate to say it but Admiral Nelson has to be on the edge of senility to allow his adopted son such leeway as this, no pun intended,” he added, laughing, getting into the limo and was driven away.
“Easy, Harriman,” Jiggs said, reaching for my trembling arm.
“How dare he? If I wasn’t stuck aboard Seaview I’d knock his block off!”
“Senility’s a common assumption at our age.”
“Everything okay down there?” Chip called out.
“What’s the punishment for striking the commander in chief?” I asked. “I’m not joking.”
“Calm down, Harriman. You’re hyperventilating.”
“Harry?” Lee asked, hurrying over.
“He got a little upset with the president’s comments,” Jiggs told him.
“So am I, but he looks sick,” Lee asked gently, dropping to his knees beside my chair as Chip paged Sick Bay.
“He…he….” I began then saw the communique in Lee’s hands.
“The summons,” Lee explained, “but the Senate subcommittee’s agreed to let me appear from Seaview or from the Inverness City Hall.”
Doc hurried down the spiral ladder.
“Excuse me, Skipper,” Doc said shooing Lee off his knees and away so my vitals could be taken.
“I’m fine! Just angry.”
“Your pulse and blood pressure are off the charts. You’re eyes are dilated. You’re also sweaty and clammy. I’d like to take you to Bethesda for better tests than I can give you here. Like an MRI or CAT scan.
“Oh good grief!” I shouted. “You’re taking this way out of proportion.”
“You’re going anyway,” Lee ordered. “Jiggs, why don’t you accompany him. Don’t bother to pack. Bethesda’s got stores for a change of clothes and incidentals. Sharkey and Ski will pilot and copilot.
I’d take you myself, Harry, but…”
“Your little top secret mission comes first, yes, I know, but I assure you I’m fine. “
“Your pressure hasn’t come down yet,” Will said.
“Then give a pill!”
“Your eyes are still dilated. This could be the warning signs of an impending stroke.”
“If you believe that,” I warned, “I’d like to sell you the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“You’re going anyway,” Lee ordered. “Okay Will, take him below. Frank can handle Sick Bay. Sparks? If Mrs. Nelson ‘s flight hasn’t left yet, have Ames cancel her reservation.”
“I’m fine!” I yelled. “Damnit, Lee!”
My denial of a medical situation would have been more effective if I hadn’t suddenly begun to throw up.
“Her flight’s boarding,” Sparks called out.
“Contact LAX,” Lee ordered Chip, “tell them not to let Mrs. Nelson board, or if she has to remove her and get for them to get her on the next flight to Dulles. Have them tell her Admiral Nelson’s being admitted to Bethesda for some tests. I’ll foot the bill.”
I’d stopped puking, and was cleaned up by Will, who, with Sharkey and Ski, just arrived, helped down into the Flying Sub and strapped in the seat behind the pilot’s, Will sitting next to me, reattaching the BP cuff to my arm and the oxygen meter to my finger.
“Well,” Jiggs said as Sharkey put the Flying Sub into an emergency launch, Seaview’s docking bay already having been opened in the chaos, “looks like Lee hasn’t had any problem resuming command.”
“He treated me like a five year old! Wouldn’t listen to me!”
“He did the right thing, and you know it.”
“I know, I know, better safe than sorry if Will can’t do those tests here. But still…what’re my vitals now?”
“Slight change. For the worse.”