TRWD25

My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
25

Emmie had already left the boat with Edith, and Mrs. C. for a historical society’s lecture breakfast. The tapestry Edith had brought to Inverness would be one of the topics. Also to be included was to be a short presentation of underwear through the centuries and how it had affected history.
Emmie had laid out my laundered safari pants, shirt, and jacket. There was just one problem. My limbs and joints ached. I didn’t think I could handle the hike. Even my hot shower hadn’t helped to ease things. As soon as I finished toweling off, I hit the intercom.
“Lee?”
No response.
“Lee? It’s Nelson. Pick up…”
“Sorry, sir,” O’Brien’s voice answered, “he’s dockside with Mr. Morton and Cdr. Jackson. I can have someone go get him for you, though.”
‘No, never mind.”
I turned my monitor on to the deck cam. I barely recognized Chip in the swirling fog, keeping Winston on a tight leash. The dog was pulling and furiously barking at something under Lee’s new MTV and Joe was bending down speaking to the owner of the two legs splayed out from under the vehicle. Several officers and crewmen were surrounding them.
Lee scooted himself out from under his wreck of a vehicle, cradling something too small for me to see in his gloved hands. Chip had to pull Winston further away as Joe helped Lee up. After a brief consultation, their backs to me, Joe, opened the passenger side door, punching a few buttons next to the speedometer. For a few minutes nothing happened, then a hiss of air and a pillowing patchwork mass of black rubber and gray duct tape inflated all around the sides and under the vehicle while Chip called out something to the deck watch. (I hadn’t requested Sparks to turn on the audio.)

Lee, still holding whatever it was in his hands, began to walk around the MTV inspecting it, with nods of satisfaction. Joe returned to the control panel and soon the pillow magically deflated, returning into the bumpers.
Sharkey hurried down the gangplank with an empty pet carrier. Lee loaded the barely visible creature in his hands into the carrier. Then, handing over Winston’s care to Lee, Chip took the MTV’s wheel, Sharkey loading the carrier into the back, and took the passenger’s seat. Lee waved goodbye as the MTV drove off.

Clicking off the monitor, I got dressed, deciding on a casual pair of slacks and flannel shirt. Once I was fully attired, I headed to the Wardroom, where I was sure Lee and Joe would be warming themselves with some hot coffee.
The Wardroom was still busy with the second seating for breakfast, and Cookie had surpassed himself with a selection of baked goods that the men were digging into at a fevered pitch.
“Got all that from a bakery in town,” a mess specialist said, “the jams and jellies too. Some of them,” he pointed to the jars, “have whiskey in them.”
Those jams were very popular with scones, toast, and even as a side with the scrambled eggs and waffles.
“About time, Harriman,” Jiggs said from the same table where Lee and Joe were looking at topographical printout, their plates of waffles growing cold.
Lee looked up to smile at me, but quickly noticed my attire.
“I’m too stiff and sore to go on the hike, son,” I explained, grabbing the carafe of coffee from the sideboard. But I had no strength in my hands. Needless to say, the carafe slipped from my grip, spilling the hot brew over my other hand, onto the countertop and down to the deck, where the carafe had finally crashed.
Everyone rushed over. Lee pulled over an empty chair and pushed me down into it. Joe paged Sick Bay, and Jiggs hollered for a clean-up crew.

“Guess the weakness affected my hands too,” I told Lee who had knelt in front of me, disregarding the hot puddle under his knees.
“You’re getting your pants all wet, ” Jiggs told him.
“You think I give a damn?”
Will’s hurried arrival interrupted any retort, and Jiggs told him what had happened. I was surprised Will didn’t make Lee move, but then I doubted if Lee would have even if asked.

After a brief exam of my hands, taking my blood pressure, my pulse and giving my pupils a check, along with a test for numbness in my face and extremities, Will declared there was no sign of a stroke, and the hot brew had only caused a minor burn to my hand.
“I’m going to draw some blood,” Will said, taking a syringe from his bag. “Just to be thorough, but your weakness, like you think, is probably just from yesterday’s exertions. Have you had breakfast?”
“Not yet but….”
“Could also be low blood sugar. Somebody get him something.”
“I’ll do it,” Lee said, rising as Joe pulled the narrow end of his and Lee’s table toward me, and a mess specialist mopped up the spill on the sideboard, and on the deck.
Lee was heaping scrambled eggs, ham, and waffles onto a plate while Jiggs grabbed some cutlery, and poured me a new mug of coffee. Joe put scones and pastries on another plate with butter, and a spoonful of the ‘fortified’ jam on the side.
“Don’t you think you’re over doing it, a bit?” I asked while they placed the dishes in front of me.
“You think you can hold the mug okay?” Lee asked “Maybe a heat resistant straw, like the ones in Sick Bay?”
“I’ll get it,” Joe said, dashing out and soon returned with the Sick Bay issue straw which allowed me to sip my coffee and protect my fingers from the heat of the brew at the same time. Marvelous what they can do nowadays. Perhaps I should buy stock in the manufacturing company.
“Now, son,” I told Lee, “just what was it you pulled out from under the MTV? A squirrel? A Racoon? I couldn’t quite tell from the monitor.”
“Checking up on me, eh, Harry?” Lee asked with a grin.
“Whenever I get the chance.”
“It was a cat,” Joe answered, next to Lee. “A bedraggled and deformed kitten.”
“Chip and Sharkey took it to the local animal shelter,” Lee said, “sure hope it doesn’t have to be put down.”
My eggs were decent enough, the ham very good, and the scones were delightful. But the whiskey jam was sensational. It boasted some kind of royal seal on the label. I had to wonder how much extra we’d had to pay for it.

“Well, you’re up,” Chip interrupted from the doorway, then sitting down next to Jiggs, who was at my right, and stealing one of the scones from my plate.
“You going to allow him that liberty, Harriman?” Jiggs asked.
“Leave it, Jiggs. It’s too early.” Actually it wasn’t that early, but I knew that I’d be damned if I took Chip to task over it as my boys frequently stole each other’s food as a matter of course. Frankly I was pleased to be considered one of them.
“Skipper?” Sparks called over the PA, “the mayor’s office called to say more than half of the volunteer hikers have called in sick today, so it might postpone the hike unless you only want one or two teams.”
Lee rose to grab the mike. “Acknowledged. Tell him I’ll let him know shortly.”
“Aye, sir.”
“So, how’s the kitty?” Lee asked Chip.
“A little anemic and was flea infested. She’s been fed, scrubbed, flea dipped, detangled, blow dried, combed, had her teeth cleaned, was inoculated, examined for any subdural identity chip, which there wasn’t, checked against any reports of lost or missing kittens in the area, also negative, and… I just introduced her to Mallie in my cabin.”
“Another ship’s cat?” Jiggs moaned.
“They get along?” Lee asked.
“Pretty much,” Chip laughed, “Seems Mallie has a maternal streak. There’s just one problem.”
“Which is?” Lee asked.
“The kitten needs a name… and technically, you’re her new owner….”
“Me?”
“When the shelter found out the captain of the Seaview personally rescued her, who was I to shatter their belief that you wanted to adopt her. Especially since said captain paid for her treatment and gave them a substantial donation.”
“I don’t remember Lee saying anything about a donation,” Joe said.
“Forget it, Joe,” Lee warned. “Consider it PR. A name, huh? Well, how about Nessie?”
“Nessie?” Jiggs boomed, “’Nessie’ belongs to the Loch Ness Monster.”
“I think it’s a cute name,” Lee said, crestfallen.
“By the way,” Chip said, “double paws aren’t too common but they do happen. Shouldn’t affect her adversely they said.”
“Glad to hear it. I’ll call the shelter to let them know she’s gifted to you for their records. And you can name her anything you like. By the way, as planned we’ll be the Flying Sub out to check on the sea lab and area. Maybe even go ashore, But not near the off-limits area. Don’t want to get arrested and sent to the tower,” he added with a laugh. “Want to come along on the flight, Harry?”
“Surely you won’t pilot?” Jiggs asked. “What about your lack of peripheral vision without that digital eyeball?”
“Well, I won’t tell if you won’t…I’m kidding. Chip will pilot. Ski and Pat will come along as divers, and Joe will assist me to go inside the sea lab to get up close and personal with it.”
“Won’t it be a bit crowded for us all?” Jiggs asked ignoring the fact that he hadn’t been included.
“Skipper,” Sparks interrupted over the PA again, “video call from the White House.”
“Can’t Avery think for himself?” Joe muttered as Lee, rising, acknowledged via the wall mike that he’d take the call in his cabin.
“He sure has been pestering you a lot, Lee,” Joe added.
“It’s not an easy job,” Lee sighed.
“No, but he’s the president, not you.”
“Thank God for small mercies,” Lee said and departed.
“What’s Avery been calling him so much for, anyway?” Chip asked.
“The People’s Republic is making overtures for détente,” Joe began.
“I wouldn’t trust them with a ten foot pole,” Jiggs interrupted.
“Neither does Lee,” Joe said. “And then there’s some question about the budget, new regulations for military selection, immigration policy, etc. Just about everything Avery has to sign into law after congress approves the various bills, or if they don’t, what he can issue as an executive order. But the real problem Avery has is that some women from his past are threatening to go to the press claiming he’d gotten them so soused with liquor and drugs that they didn’t realize he had his wicked way with them. None have any proof, just hearsay, but…”
“So, Lee’s become his sounding board?” Chip interrupted. “His chief advisor? Maybe his shrink? Lee’s Seaview’s captain, not a politician. And why the hell hasn’t Lee kept me in the loop? I think, I’m as entitled to know as much as he’s been telling you.”
“Easy, Lad,” I said, “Joseph is probably just in the right place at the right time to be clued in. Lee hasn’t told me anything either.”
“That’s right,” Joe said. “And maybe he told me because I was with him when he was president. Besides, it’s only natural Avery should ask a former president his opinions, especially since Lee faced some of the same issues. What I’m most concerned about, is that the more the president uses Lee like this, the more congress may want Lee to take over again, despite the protocols, if Avery ends up stepping down. It’s possible, you know.”
“Well, just what can Lee to do?” Jiggs asked. “Tell the commander in chief to stop bugging? That’s just not done.”
“Actually,” Lee said from the doorway, “I told him to do just that. Unless it’s a national emergency and he puts us on military alert, he won’t be making any more calls.”
“So,” Chip asked, “what did he want this time? Joe told us some of what’s been going on between Avery and you.”
Lee gave Joe a disappointed look.
“You never said any of it was classified,” Joe said.
“And you,” Chip told Lee, “could have at least told me Avery’s been pestering you. I’m your friend and your XO for God’s sake.”
“Sorry Chipee,” Lee sighed. “I was going to tell you and Harry, but I got wrapped up in some new patents ONI found under Gamma’s name and…it just got away from me.”
“You haven’t answered the question,” Chip said. “What did Avery want this time?”
“Nothing important…”
“Not important enough for me to know, you mean.”
“What’s the matter with you, Chip?”
“All right, since you asked, I’m getting a bit tired of being left out. You used to confide in me. Now only your buddy Joe knows anything and….”
“If I’ve kept you out of the loop,” Lee said, irritated, “it wasn’t intentional.”
“You’ve also been ignoring me as a friend. All your time is spent with Joe and….”
“Mr. Morton,” Lee said in full command mode, “this discussion is closed. Now, mister, look at these damn printouts from the new TX satellite….”
Chip, hurt, said nothing but bent over the printouts on the table.
“Isn’t the TX privately owned?” Jiggs said, “by some heiress to her father’s estate? TX was only designed to find underground oil fields and mineral deposits.”
“It is,” Lee said, “but with a little imagination it might also show underground mines, caves and caverns that other satellite imaging can’t. Especially in and around bodies of water like Loch Ness, here, and Three Hags Castle, here. Perfect hiding spots for a holographic control center.”
“I don’t know, son,” I said. “Those scans might also only be showing just what the satellite was designed for.”
“How did you get these scans, anyway, Captain?” Chip asked, “Offer your bedroom services to the heiress in exchange for them?”
Gasps.
“If I had,” Lee answered, “it wouldn’t be any of your business, would it? Joe, load the info into the master computer and to the Flying Sub’s inertial navigator. We’ll take off in twenty minutes.”
Without a further word to any of us, Lee departed in a huff.
“You see?” Chip told me, “he’s ignoring me. He should have told me to load the info. Hell I’m the pilot. Joe’s not even a member of the crew.”
Joe said nothing and left to obey Lee’s orders.
“Perhaps,” I said, “Lee might simply be protecting you, and me. The less we know, the less we could be targets for any devious mastermind.”
“Bullshit!”
“Enough. Now go insure the Flying Sub’s ready for when Lee wants her.”

“Everyone settled in?” Chip asked as later when he strapped himself into the Flying Sub’s pilot’s seat while Jiggs, and I settled into ours behind him. Joe, Ski and Pat took the jump seats. I wasn’t sure if the co-pilot’s seat would be occupied by Sharkey or Lee.
“Excuse me, Mr. Morton,” Sharkey called down the hatch, “the skipper’s been hoodwinked by the secretary of state and says it won’t be long and is relaxing the dry order for the admirals since they’re passengers.”
“Acknowledged,” Chip said, unstrapping himself and opened a closed drawer near the depth gage, pulling out two paper cups and an unopened bottle of Johnny Walker, reaching over the backside of his seat to hand them to us. “Help yourselves.”
“A bit early for it, isn’t it?” Jiggs declined.
“Well, I don’t mind if I do,” I said, pouring a shot, or maybe a little more than technically a shot, into my paper cup, setting the bottle into the little pocket behind Chip’s seat.
I’d hardly had two swallows when Lee climbed down, Sharkey securing the hatch and ladder as he followed.
“Sorry,” Lee said as he strapped himself in the co-pilot’s seat while Sharkey took the vacant jump seat.
“Anything new we should be aware of, Captain?” Chip asked, still piqued with him.
“I told you I was sorry about not cluing you in before.”
“Yeah, but like I told you, you’ve been ignoring me a lot about other things this cruise and….”
“And I told you I didn’t realize it…”
“You used to have time for me and….”
“Gentlemen, enough,” I intervened. “You can discuss any grievances between yourselves later. Now, shall we get underway? Chip?” I added as he did nothing.
“I’m waiting for the captain’s order. I may have the stick but he’s still in command.”
“Oh good grief,” Lee moaned,” I don’t know what’s the matter with you. Launch the Flying Sub already, Mr. Morton.”
“Aren’t you forgetting the pre-launch checks?”
“I’ve had enough, Sharkey? You sit co-pilot. I’m out of here. The flight directives remain the same.” Lee unstrapped himself, pulled the ladder down, and was already securing the hatch behind him before Joe and I could unstrap and go after him.
“Leave it, Harriman,” Jiggs waylaid me. “Let him stew awhile. Besides, he’s in the wrong…”
“But…”
“He’s in the wrong. Chip was following procedures. Lee wasn’t. Now, you’re sure the fog cutters in this thing will work? And in the peaty bog that’s Loch Ness?”
“They’ll work fine.”
“I can’t help thinking,” Joe began, “that his last call with the secretary upset him about something. And no, Chip, he didn’t inform me about what. This little tantrum of his .…”
“Officer of the Deck to FS-,” O’Brien’s voice interrupted over the radio, “are you going to launch or not? The Skipper’s anxious for you to get going.”
“Oh, he is, is he,” Chip responded and began to unstrap himself.
“Mr. Morton,” I said, “I understand how you must feel, but I don’t think you should abort the flight. You and Lee can have a nice long talk later.”
Chip looked at me as if he’d been betrayed.
“Aye, sir,” he complied sourly. “Sharkey, begin pre-launch.”
Like a well-oiled machine the two began the series of checks until Sharkey confirmed all was go with FS 1, and O’Brien confirmed that the bay doors were open.
“Launch,” Chip said as he eased the Flying Sub from Seaview into the River Ness. When far enough from the dock, with further checks for any craft on the surface, he launched us up through the river and up into the air. Then he and Sharkey adjusted our heading toward Loch Ness.
It was a short flight, and soon we splashed down into the loch and headed downwards through the peaty waters to the sea lab.
Nothing we or our specialized instruments could ‘see’ indicated that it was in any way currently or even recently operational. We docked with it and Chip, with Joe, climbed down the access hatch using rebreathers, while Ski and Pat donned thermal wetsuits and swam around the perimeter, aiming the modified scanners like they’d used on the hike.
Jiggs, bored, pulled out ‘Crewman Walker’ from the pocket behind Chip’s chair. By the time Chip and Joe had returned, and the dive team was recalled, Jiggs had had a full shot, and I’d finished two.
“Nothing, sir,” Ski reported to Chip, removing his gear and donning his jumpsuit.
“Well, this was a wasted trip,” Jiggs said.
“Not necessarily,” Joe said, “these oxygen meters I detached from the lab’s air revitalization unit might tell us if the lab’s been occupied at all since it was closed.”
“So, Admiral,” Chip asked, “did you or Admiral Starke see anything suspicious through the viewports? Like the Loch Ness Monster or the kelpie?”
“A couple of ugly fish, and the Flying Sub’s special scanners didn’t indicate anything else.”
“Well,” Jiggs said, “if I were a crazy mastermind, I’d have invented something to elude the latest in surveillance.”
“Lee told me,” Joe said, “the surveillance equipment outmatches anything our mastermind might have planned on. And I installed a new bug and cam for any future visit our thugs might make.”
“So you’re keeping secrets from me, too?” Chip asked sarcastically.
“Shove it up your ass, Morton!”
“Did you see that?” Jiggs interrupted, pointing.
“I didn’t see anything,” Chip said.
“Me neither,” I added.
“Digital video,” Chip ordered and the screen played…nothing.
“Instruments didn’t show anything either,” Joe said.
“What did it look like?” I asked Jiggs.
“I’m not sure, but it had what looked like billowing hair.”
“Oh gawd,” Chip said, “not another mermaid.”
“Horses have manes,” Joe said. “Wasn’t that kelpie of McDonald’s part horse?”
“Good God,” Jiggs said, “you can’t believe in the damn kelpie for real. It must have been a big weird fish, that’s all.”
“Or a projection of one,” I said.
“There’s nobody in the sea lab, and the divers didn’t find anything.”
“We can try to follow it, at least,” Chip said as he unlocked the docking clamps and we rose up from the sea lab and sailed in the direction Jiggs had indicated.

“This is fruitless,” Jiggs said after about an hour. Again and again we surfaced and dove. We checked out every nook and cranny entered into the inertial navigator. All were negative for underwater caves and caverns despite the TX readings.
“Some kind of boat on the surface,” Sharkey said as his instruments showed a blip.
“The shadow!” Chip exclaimed as a blur whooshed by.
“It’s headed to the surface,” Sharkey said.
“Are you recording this, Sharkey?” Chip said as he took us up flank.
“Yeah, but it ain’t showing up on instruments.”
“Holographic?” I muttered as we surfaced.
“Look! Look! Over there!” Jiggs shouted, as an MTV in full hovercraft mode seemed to be floundering near the shore.
“It can’t be the skipper’s, can it?” Sharkey asked.
“FS-1 to MTV,” Chip began to radio.
“There’s no radio on the damn thing,” Joe admonished, pulling out his cell phone and punched the numbers. “Lee? Answer your damn phone…Lee!”
“The voice mail box has been temporarily disconnected,” the Donald Duck voice messaging system answered then said, “Please try your call later.”
“Try texting,” Starke ordered.
“Already did that. Shit!” Joe said, then punched another number.
“This number has been temporarily disconnected,” a woman’s voice answered seductively.
“Well now he’s just being obstinate,” Jiggs said.
Joe dialed punched more numbers.
“ONI override,” he explained. “It’ll get through to Lee’s microchip. The one in his toenail.”
“Lee’s still on their roster of agents?” I asked, surprised.
“No, but when he was president, they thought it was a good idea to have a tracking devise in case he got himself kidnapped or something. Watson to Sherlock. Watson to Sherlock. Pick up…damn it, Lee, pick up…”
“Occupant is not accepting calls,” the metallic voice answered.
“Double shit!”
“Look!” Sharkey said pointing, “The folks on the shore. They’re waving us over.”
“Hurry, Chip,” I ordered, “They look hysterical.”

Two women were kneeling on the rocks, faces in their hands wailing, while three more women and seven men were on their cell phones, visibly shaken as well.
By the time we banked backwards on shore, and exited from the rear hatch, we were bombarded with the babble of anguished voices.
“Oh God, oh God!” one of the women was crying, “You’ve got to help him.”
“There’s nothing they can do,” someone whined, “not anymore.”
“Who are you and what’s happened?” I demanded.
“Since the hike was postponed again today, some of us came down on our own. We couldn’t help…we couldn’t help him…the captain….”
“It…it got him!” one of the sobbing women said visibly shaking.
“He…he’d come down the loch in that hover thing over there,” another dripping wet man said, one I recognized from yesterday. “It must’ve had a problem, ‘cause he sailed it to the shallows, jumped out to look at that pillow thing, when…when…the kelpie loomed up, and grabbed the cap’n by the neck in its horrible ragged teeth! The cap’n started cussing, then he screamed and went limp and that creature from hell took him under. We tried to catch it, but it were gone!”
“Here,” Ski said, having gone back into the Flying Sub for some thermal blankets. “Pat’s already putting his gear on to dive,” he said to me, “I’ll be set in a few minutes…but…there’s nothing on the instruments.”
“It’s too late, it’s too late,” one of the women wailed, “his neck’s broken for sure. Here, look,” she added, handing me her phone that had recorded the scene.
The next thing I knew I was in the Flying Sub’s bunk, the vehicle in search rotations in the loch.
“Sure looked real to me,” Jiggs was saying.
“Or,” Joe said, “it was a hologram, engineered to look as if it grabbed Lee. Divers could have immobilized him with Tasers and pulled him underwater to a cave or submersible. Even if our instruments didn’t see anything.”
“So, what about Lee’s toenail tracker?” Chip asked.
“Either it was deactivated by Lee, kidnappers, or…or the damn kelpie is real and ate Lee.”
“Oh God…” I moaned and began to throw up, at least onto the deck from my bunk instead of on to it.
“Good, you’re awake,” Jiggs said.
“Stay put, Admiral,” Chip ordered. “We’ll clean things up later.”
“You fainted,” Joe said.
“Kind of figured.”
Then I prayed silently, “Hang in there Lee. Just hang in there. We’ll find you, son. God as my witness, we’ll find you and bring you home.”