TRWD8

My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
8

“Harry? Harry?” Lee’s voice roused me from my slumbers as he turned on the light in my cabin.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, still somewhat asleep but recognizing the urgency in his voice.
“Nothing’s wrong, technically, at least not yet,” he said as he laid an armful of paperwork on my desk. “I need you to help me decipher some of this stuff.”
“It’s 0537!” I hissed as I looked at the clock above my pillow.
“Only a little early and I ordered breakfast.”
“Did you go to bed at all?” I asked as it registered on my tired eyes that his uniform was sweaty and rumpled, and he had dark circles under his eyes.
“Sleep? What’s that? I think I found something. Dr. Gamma…”
“Gamma?” I interrupted, incredulous, my heart in my stomach.
“Not our nemesis. This is a Dr. Gustav Gamma. No relation that ONI can find, but he has four patents and two pending, in interactive holographic systems.”
“Well that makes me feel a lot better,” I said sarcastically, as I grabbed my robe while he shuffled through some of the printouts from his perch on the edge of my desk.
“He’s American, but has recently applied for and obtained multiple citizenships. Switzerland and Brazil. But he also has a pending application to become a citizen of the People’s Republic.”
“Oh gawd.”
“There’s no record of him being in or ever having been in or near Scotland but he could just be the ‘brain’ behind the kelpie.”
“You still think it’s a weapon?”
“Sounds silly, I know, but yes, I do.”
Lee removed his prosthesis, and put it into his shirt pocket.
“I checked with ONI and MI-6 about the deserted sea-lab in Loch Ness. Still buttoned up according to security systems, but, as with any electronic and digital system, there are ways to gum up the works. The only things alive down there that we know of for sure are a few passing fish.”
A knock at the door interrupted.
“In,” Lee called out without waiting for me to answer.
I have to admit I was a little annoyed with his taking the liberty regarding my domain.

“Morning sirs,” Ski said as he and Cookie brought in a couple of trays, and looked pointedly at the cluttered desk for a place to set them down.
“Sorry,” Lee said as he picked up the stack of paperwork and moved it over to my bunk.
“Coffee’s on its way,” Cookie said, removing the cloches with a flourish.
“That looks like oatmeal,” Lee said, surprised and unimpressed.
“Is something wrong with it, Skipper?” Cookie asked, “We just thought since we’re going to Scotland you might want some of their native cuisine.”
“I appreciate the thought, but I’m just not in the mood for it.”
“Well, we got buttermilk waffles, sausage, and scrambled eggs, too, sir. Oh, and there’s always assorted cereals as usual.”
“I vote for waffles,” I said. “Extra butter and syrup.”
“And peanut butter,” Lee added.
“Here’s their coffee,” Riley said, entering through the open doorway, a carafe and two mugs dangling from the fingers of one hand, and a bowl of packaged creamers and sugars in the other. “Did you like my idea of the oatmeal, Skipper?” he added, pleased with himself. “I just knew, like, you’d want to get into the mood for the land of bagpipes and tartans and such.”
“Er, thank you, Riley,” Lee said, taking four sugar packets, ripping them open and dousing his bowl of oatmeal with the sweet crystals.
“The news says,” Riley began, “that Inverness is all excited about our arrival. They’re putting up decorations and everything.”
“Decorations?” I asked, as I poured myself a cup of coffee.
“Yeah, banners and balloons, and like, they got highland dancers and military bands and….”
“Military bands?” I asked. “This is a civilian expedition.”
“Oh, they know that, sir,” Riley said, “and that you don’t believe in the creature like the skipper does. But it’s the skipper they’re all anxious to welcome, being a former president and all.”
“Of course,” I said, “I must have forgotten about that.”
Lee leaned over to press on the intercom, “Sparks? Please inform the mayor of Inverness that while we’re delighted with the city’s hospitality toward us, we don’t want them to go to any trouble.”
“Why the hell not?” Chip’s voice interrupted over the PA. “You’re entitled to ceremonial courtesy. As for the rest of us, hey, we’re representatives of our country, their strongest ally. Even if they don’t know our real mission…” he stopped himself with a gasp.
Lee knew, I knew and Chip knew he’d made a blunder the crew was going to wonder about.
“Lee, I’m sorry. I…”
“Never mind that now. Make sure the mayor knows we don’t want any ruffles and flourishes or….”
“Too bad, bro,” Joe’s voice interrupted. “The U.K.’s prime minister made an announcement. I quote, ‘On behalf of Her Majesty’s government, the Honorable Captain Nelson-Crane is to be accorded all due courtesy and honors due to his former position as president of the United States’ unquote. So you’re stuck with any ruffles and flourishes.”
“ETA, Chip?” Lee spoke into the intercom.
“Forty-seven hours.”
“Very well,” Lee answered and punched the intercom off button.
“I’ll go get that additional order you wanted, sirs,” Cookie asked.
“No, Cookie,“ Lee said and scooped out a spoonful of his oatmeal, “I think we both changed our minds and would rather savor the native dishes without any extras.”
Riley looked pleased as punch as he, Ski, and Cookie left leaving the door partly open.
“Aghhhgggh.” Lee spat out the goo seconds later into a disposable paper napkin on his tray, then dumped the rest of his bowl full down the toilet, flushing the evidence away.
“Knock, knock,” Chip said from the still open doorway. “I really am sorry, Lee….”
“Well, the crew would have to find out later anyway. Still, block all outgoing calls, messages, or emails from the crew.”
“I’m sure nothing got out before I told Sparks the same. By the way, the institute sent a message overnight that Mrs. Nelson decided on a commercial flight instead of the Flying Sub. And Mrs. Crane told Ames that she was reconsidering joining us aboard Seaview or coming to Scotland at all.”
“Wonder what made Mom reconsider,” Lee mused.
“Excuse me, sirs,” Riley said as he reappeared with a tray of plates stacked with waffles, syrup, butter, and peanut butter on the side. “Cookie figured he better bring your other order, as Mr. Morton’s a real stickler for waste not, want not. Good thing too. You sure made short work of your oatmeal. By the way, Skipper, when are you’re going to take the conn today? Everyone’s, like, hoping to have a watch in the Control Room when you do.”
“Actually,” Lee said, “I may be a bit too busy to schedule anything.”
The crewman’s face fell, disappointed.
Chip put on his set in stone face. No emotion. But Riley’s disappointment with Lee not taking the conn had to have hurt Chip’s feelings. Still, he asked Lee if he couldn’t squeeze in a half hour or so.
“How about right now? Harry, why don’t you go over everything with Chip. Come along, Riley.”
The crewman was actually humming some kind of surfer song about a T-bird as they headed down the companionway.
“I wish Lee had stayed a few minutes,” I said indicating the second stack of waffles on my plate. “No way I can save any of this for him. Like potato chips. You can’t eat just one.”
“I thought he had oatmeal.”
“Over there,” I said, nodding toward the head.
“Oh,” he said then leafed through some of the printouts, raising an eyebrow. “Gamma?”
“Not the same one. Lee’s convinced this one is a real threat too, though.”
“I’ll have Seaview and her crew ready for whatever Lee wants.”
“I’m sure he already knows that. And Chip, Lee hasn’t said it, but I think that prosthesis is bothering him…you know he’s been delayed and delayed getting it replaced.”
“I know…Joe says the gadgetry still works, but there’s a definite reduction in visibility. Some of it’s reverted to pixel boxes.”
“Admiral Nelson?” Sparks’ voice came over the PA. “Mrs. Nelson on the videophone for you…I added some static…”
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Chip said and left me to my call.

“Sweetheart,” Emmie said as her distorted image formed, “Gawd, I can barely see you. Can you see me? Hear me?”
“Not very well.”
“I reserved a commercial flight. And a hotel room in Inverness. We don’t have to stay in it all the time. The press already knows I’ve made a reservation. But they’re more interested in the spat you had with Lee. It got out before your communication issues. What on earth got into him? Anyway, it’s Ron who’s been trying to incite the press against both of you.”
“Try to ignore him. He’s not worth the energy to think about. Now, have Ames send Sparks your flight and hotel details…and…well, I haven’t told Lee yet, but I think I might like to honor our hosts by wearing their native costume. So, pack one of my kilts from the culinary tour I’d joined Lee with. Make sure it’s the Scottish tartan, not the Irish.”
“How am I supposed to know which is which?”
“Check with Ames. He’ll find out for you.”
“When are you sending the Flying Sub to pick up Mrs. C.?”
“She’s reconsidering joining us. Lee’s got the conn right now, but I’m sure he’ll be in touch with her as soon as he can.”
“I bet he’s in high heaven now that he’s back in command.”
“Actually, he has mixed feelings about it. And I think he’s still worn out from the presidency.”
“Speaking of which, did you know that Congress wants a hearing? Abernathy’s been claiming that Edwards is part of a conspiracy to soil his, Abernathy’s, good name. Honey, I’m not sure, but Lee might just be called to Capitol Hill for questioning.”
“That’s all we need,” I sighed. “Well, Lee at least Lee hasn’t gotten a summons yet. Our communications ae getting worse. See you soon, dear.”
“Love you,” she said as her grainy image disappeared into static and the screen went black.
“Good job, Sparks with that static,” I said via the intercom. “Now, see what kind of newscasts about the president you can find and send to my desktop computer.”
“Aye, sir.”

While I waited, I munched down my now cold waffles, the butter and syrup already having soaked through them, though the peanut butter was still in a solid heap in a side dish.
What Lee would think about my scarfing down the two servings of all of the waffles was anyone’s guess, but frankly I doubted if he’d even remember he hadn’t had breakfast.
I’d finished four more mugs of coffee by the time one of the broadcasts was piped through to my computer. The vice president was on the screen….

“…Mr. Hodges, what do you think regarding Mr. Edwards’ claims?”
“…I have no opinion. I simply requested an inquiry which has been agreed to by Congress.”
“…Should the accusations against the president be proven, will the president be impeached?”
“…Probably just a censure. If President Abernathy or the chief justice did discuss an old college prank that Ensign Simpson acted upon, it’s the ensign that made the error in judgement.”
“…What about the ‘no comment’ Nelson-Crane issued?”
“…I think perhaps someone pressured him into silence.”
“…As in his adopted father, Admiral Nelson?”
“…I didn’t say that, but I wouldn’t put it beyond him. And look, we have no proof one way or another about this entire incident. But there are those, even here on Capitol Hill that would welcome a chance to get rid of Charles Abernathy and bring back Nelson-Crane.”
“…Even though it’s only been a few days and you’re the next in line?”
“…Don’t forget that Congress pressured Nelson-Crane to bypass the eighteen successors that didn’t want the job before. They could do it again though it could be difficult with him so happy to be back with his siubmarine.”
“…Mr. Ronald Nelson says that Nelson-Crane may have had something to do with Mr. Edwards’ accusation. What do you think?”
“…I have no opinion. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get to a meeting.”
“…Of course. Thank you Mr. Vice President. This is Fox News and…we’re getting a video feed from the Seaview. Reception is bad, but here it is….”
The image formed of Lee, minus his prosthesis, metal socket gleaming, at the Control Room’s monitor. Sparks was doing a good job with the static.
“…We’re receiving you, Mr. President.”
“…Just captain now, please. I’d like to respond to your interview with the Vice President, if I may.”
“…Of course, sir, go ahead.”
“…I had written a statement when Mr. Edwards first made his accusations against President Abernathy, but decided against going public at the time. I’ve advised Mr. Ames of NCIMR to release it in its entirety, in print and by audio. Think of it as you will.
“…As for any kind of collusion between Mr. Edwards and myself, well, that’s just absurd. And should President Abernathy be forced or wish to step down, I have every confidence in the Vice President Hodges assuming the presidency according to procedure.”
“…Then, for the record, you would not accept any congressional request for your return?”
“…Congress has to follow the law of the land. We were in a crisis situation when I was asked to take on the job as interim president before the election. We’re not in a crisis now, except for that of President Abernathy’s own making, intentional or otherwise.”
“…If it comes to the president stepping down, if the vice president or the eighteen potential successors choose not wish to take the oath, if Congress requests you to…”
“…That’s an awful lot of ‘ifs’. And I’m sure there are plenty of Americans just as qualified for the job as the vice president and the eighteen. I’m honored that I might be considered, but the job’s just not for me and….”
Sparks had increased the static, probably at a hidden signal by Lee behind his back.
“…We’re losing you,” the reporter said.
“…Sorry,” Lee said, turning his head backwards toward the Radio Shack, “Sparks, can you increase the signal?”
“…Sorry, Skipper…this is the best we can do for now.”
“…We’ll keep trying on our end too. Captain? Is Admiral Nelson still of the opinion that Mr. McDonald imagined his kelpie?”
“…Since there’s no tangible proof, as a scientist, he can’t really think otherwise. I respect that. But,” he added with a grin, “Mr. McDonald saw something. And I’d like Seaview, with all of her resources, to check it out.”
“….It must be nice having Admiral Nelson’s resources in order to do so. But how does he feel about your expedition since you hadn’t cleared it with him, first?”
“….I’m well within my rights as co-owner of both the institute and Seaview, to sponsor this expedition, and none of our clients will be left high and dry as I fully expect we’ll meet their schedules.”
“…Signal’s going haywire, Skipper!” Sparks called out as indeed the visual and audio turned to a total white out.

“…Well, we’ve lost the signal from Seaview. We’ll be back shortly with NCIMR for Captain Nelson-Crane’s previously held statement….”

I wondered if I should join Lee in the Control Room. No doubt the crew was anxious for the broadcast to resume. I was about to head out, but realized I hadn’t even showered, shaved, or dressed yet. And I could always ask Sparks for a replay.