TRWD40E

My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
40E

I’ve been too tired and too troubled to write in my journal lately. In fact, I haven’t written in three days.
If Ronald hadn’t been incarcerated and without funds, I would almost have believed he was the source of some of the growing rumors that there was a billion dollar plus price on Lee’s head. It sounded like something Ronald would have concocted in order to try to make me a quivering bowl of Jell-O. Except for the fact that the funds in his hefty bank account had been transferred to a closed federal account for the duration of his imprisonment. And no potential assassin would want to wait for that long.
I was concerned, however, that the chairman of the People’s Republic’s did have the funds and the political punch to encourage his ‘loyal’ subjects, and I do call them subjects instead of citizens, so dictatorial is his regime, to rid themselves of the American ‘thorn’ in their sides. The chairman might even have arranged for his secret agents in the U.S. to do such a thing, though as expected, he’s denied any such monetary offer for ‘services rendered’ (my words, not his).
ONI, the FBI, and the CIA, of course, trying to weed out the truth of the rumors, were testing the loyalty of everyone Lee had known through the years. In addition, even our own crew, employees, friends, and naval colleagues were suspect. Hidden grievances were exposed and even Jiggs and our family were questioned. Lee was appalled, but prevented by Homeland Security from objecting. At first.
When his mother emerged from her video interview behind her closed doors in tears, Lee called Avery, blasting him for signing the order and defied him and all of the agencies, ordering Sparks to block any such investigative calls.
In fact, Lee almost decided to take the oath of office aboard Seaview in order to avoid any such ill treatment of his family and crew again.
In the end, though, it was his mother who managed to calm him down somewhat, telling him that it wasn’t so much the questions the FBI had used, but their tone, in their effort to try to determine how much she did or didn’t love Lee and what she might be willing to do to claim his life insurance policy. Mrs. C. also told Lee she’d rather he had a real ceremony this time, one she could share in, even if the agencies hadn’t recommended that she, and all of us, stay away from the inauguration for fear of being in the line of any fire against him.
In fact, Emmie and I had had a huge argument about me having accepted Lee’s offer to stand with him at the inauguration without speaking with her first. She was so angry, she’d packed up all her things and moved out of our cabin into another and hadn’t spoken to me until Lee tried to sooth Emmie’s ruffled feathers by telling us that no one, not me, not his mother, not his crew, no one but the necessary officials would be standing with him on the steps of the Capitol Building.
Needless to say, I was even more determined to stand with him and tried to talk him out of his decision. But he was adamant. He wasn’t going to come between me and my wife. And by standing alone, he felt no one need have any pangs of guilt letting him be alone, so to speak, on the steps.
So I found myself very depressed in a war of resentment toward my wife and with Lee.
Emmie had finally returned to our cabin and began speaking with me, but it was my turn not to reciprocate.
I doubt if anyone could feel more depressed than me, for Lee had felt he had no choice but to take such a drastic step, despite this most important of all days for him to come.
But then I had inside info from my visitation. Surely had anyone near Lee been in harm’s way, shouldn’t John have told me? But then, he’d only told me about Lee. I wondered if I should tell Lee and Emmie about the visitation. But something, call it an urging from On High, convinced me to keep John’s revelation of Lee’s anointing secret.

The klaxon interrupted my musings and I felt Seaview rise. I tuned the monitor in the Wardroom to the deck cam as we surfaced. Then I clicked on one of the split screens. CNN already had breaking news…
“…The submarine is expected to arrive tomorrow well before the scheduled time of twelve noon for the inauguration of president elect Nelson-Crane.”
“…We have streaming video from one of the U.S. Navy’s helicopter cameras of the just surfaced submarine. We can see Captain Chipee Morton and Lt. Cdr. O’Brien arrive in Seaview’s Conning Tower but it seems the helicopters are veering away. Could it be that Nelson-Crane will be coming topside?
“…Yes, yes, there he is! Surprising that he’s in uniform along with the same kind of padded jacket as the officers, but no cap. Let’s hope he doesn’t lose his scalp patches again. He’s checking something on Captain Nelson’s clipboard. Hey, who’s in command here…all of the U.S. escort ships are blowing their horns again. Saview is returning the acknowledgement with blasts of her own.”
“…There’s been no word,” another reporter said, “if Mrs. Crane will be First Lady again. Has she been asked? If she hasn’t been, why not, or if she has, what’s her answer? No one aboard has been able to text, call, or email. The great sub certainly has its share of communication issues.”
“…Uh oh,” the original reporter began, “Looks like the doctor has found out about his errant patient, as he’s joined the group in the Conning Tower and is waving his hands about. Captain Morton is taking the doctor’s arm and both are going back down inside the sub. Did Captain Morton give the conn, as they call it, to the president elect? Not exactly usual but it’s doubtful the Secretary of the Navy will complain.”
“…Lt. Cdr. Jackson has popped up. As you may remember, he was Nelson-Crane’s personal aide and chief advisor before. Word is he will be again. He’s also a submariner but has spent most of the last few years at the helm of various desks.”
“…Captain Morton has returned to the conning tower and Nelson-Crane takes a last look around, pats the coaming, and is descending back into the warmth of the sub and possibly to another tongue lashing from the doctor.”
“…While we wait for the Seaview to go back underwater, let’s go to Washington for an update….”
A panorama of Washington D.C. formed.
“…There hasn’t been as much inaugural fever here since the inauguration of JFK. Probably more,” a reporter in the field was saying. “The entire district is decorated with flags and red, white, and blue streamers. The podium on the Capitol steps hasn’t been set up yet, nor have any chairs. It’s rumored that none of Nelson-Crane’s family, friends, or colleagues will be in attendance.”
“…One wonders why Nelson-Crane didn’t just take the oath of office aboard the sub.”
“…Despite the always present rumors of an attack on the U.S. President or president elect, the US Naval Academy Glee Club will perform the National Anthem and various other patriotic songs. The National Cathedral, actually an Episcopal church, will play chorales from its famous Skinner organ, accompanied by a choir that will be piped through microphones. Just one teensy little problem though, is that it’s been hard to find appropriate songs that won’t infringe on our law about the separation of church and state.”
“…What about The Battle Hymn of the Republic? It’s often at inaugurations and it’s a religious hymn.”
“…Guess it’s become more associated with Abe Lincoln than with God.”
“…On the topic of God, the oath or swearing in itself doesn’t have to be accompanied by or touching a bible, though Nelson-Crane did touch one last time, aboard Seaview. It is believed he’s chosen one of the revered Lincoln bibles to swear his oath of office by….”
“Will you please take you son in hand?” Will interrupted, entering, venomously, “He should have cleared any topside activities with me before going ahead and going up to the Conning Tower!”
“Did his scalp patches come loose again?”
“No, the helicopters were ordered off to a safe distance first, but…”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“He should have cleared it with me! And his hair and patches are damp from some sea spray. I had to swipe the stitches down with disinfectant, again! He knows darn well that the ocean’s a cesspit of fish and mammalian pee and poop, and then there’s garbage from passing ships and sewer systems and….”
“You don’t know that he wouldn’t have wiped himself down himself. Give him a little credit, Will, some leeway.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke? He’s also continuing to defy me regarding what he eats and drinks.”
“Has he had tummy troubles?”
“Well, none reported. Doesn’t mean he hasn’t.”
“You know, Will, if it weren’t for the fact that you’ll be staying in Washington for awhile to clue the surgeon general in about Lee’s little idiosyncrasies, I think you’re suffering from preliminary separation anxiety. Where is he?”
“The nose.”
“Come along. I’ll say something to him, but I can’t promise he’ll listen.”
“Fair enough. Wait a minute. Let me got to Sick Bay to get something for him.”
Whatever it was fit in his shirt pocket.

By the time we got to the Observation Nose, Lee had already had two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, some pickles, and three cups of black coffee, at least according to Kowalski who had to answer Will truthfully, if reluctantly.
When Lee saw us from his seat the conference table, he simply spread his arms akimbo with a smirk.
“...Don’t scold him yet,” Mrs. C., next to him said, “I want to hear this newscast.”
“…We’re at the Santa Barbara Mission in California,” the Fox reporter was saying, “where, upon the swearing in of Captain Nelson-Crane as president, the bells will be rung in celebration, despite the fact that the new president is not of the Roman Catholic faith.
“...While there aren’t enough churches with bells in America that you can count on one hand, several cities with weather warning horns and sirens will be making noise as well, with the local citizenry’s approval, that is. Several police stations will also allow their patrol cars to honk, should the populace approve. And several Americans will be honking their own horns and blowing their own whistles in celebration.
“… So, expect a lot of celebratory noise, wherever you are shortly after twelve noon, Eastern Standard Time, that’s nine a.m. in California, seven a.m. in Hawaii.
“…We’ve also learned that by an overwhelming yea vote in United Kingdom’s parliament and with the approval of the queen, as head of the Church of England, that the bells of Westminster Abbey will be rung. at five minutes past five P.M their time, in a show of support for the new American president.
“…While some may question any religious organization to using their resources in honor of a non-religious ceremony, many would say that if you have a really big noise maker, use it, to honor one of the greatest modern American heroes of our time.”

“Oh gawd,” Lee moaned. “I pee and fart and belch like anyone else…speaking of belching…Will? You got any Tums?”
“Right here,” he took the roll of antacid out of his pocket. “By the way, Admiral Nelson wants to talk with you.”
“Well?” Lee asked after he finished chewing his Tums.
“Will’s only trying to look out for you, you realize that.”
“He wants you to chew me out for busting his orders?”
“In a word, yes.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“Quiet!” Mrs. C. ordered.
“…Well,” Ronald was saying. “I always knew Edith was a coward, but I am a little surprised, though glad about Pop being a no show for the inauguration. Afraid of his own wife! And at least Lee won’t have his nearest and dearest supporting him anymore.”
“Why that…” I hissed.
“Shhh!” Mrs. C. said.
“…That was Ronald Nelson, who, if his fellow inmates are to be believed, was the mastermind behind the billion dollar assassin for hire rumors.”
“Harry?” Emmie’s voice came over the PA, “Is Lee with you?”
“Go ahead,” I spoke into the intercom.
“If it’s okay with you, Lee, I’d like Harry to stand with you, after all.”
“Just because Ronald’s probably behind the threats, doesn’t mean that there isn’t one. You could be in the line of fire.”
“I know. I just…I feel…like a terrible coward…you and Harry…always put others first. If I can’t handle what I agreed to when I married him, well, I’m not the person I thought I was and I’m very sorry I made such a fuss. Will you change your mind, Lee, and let us stand with you? All of us who want to?”
Lee bowed his head, pondering, then clicked the intercom again.
“Anyone who wants to join me on the steps is welcome.”
Mrs. C. hugged Lee and kissed him on the cheek.
“You’d better inform Drew and the inaugural committee, sweetie.”
Lee headed to the Radio Shack to make the call. In about ten minutes the broadcasters were reporting that the institute had misinterpreted a garbled message from Seaview and that Lee’s family, friends, and colleagues would be attending the ceremony after all.
“…That sub really needs to have an overhaul,” one of the reporters said, none the wiser about our continuing ruse of communication glitches.
“Prepare to dive!” Chip’s voice came over from topside. It wasn’t long before Seaview was ready to dive, and soon Lee, Mrs. C. and I watched the spectacular view through the bubbles.
“Lee?” Joe asked, nearing with a printout. “Sorry, you’re not going to like this.”
“Balloons?”
“Yeah, some of the inaugural committee though it was appropriate for the parade.”
“I thought it was going to be a quiet affair, just the glee club and a few military bands.”
“Yeah, well, it’s more now that it’s less likely for you to get shot or blown up. Some of your favorite charities have floats, flowers, and balloons. Like this one.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Courtesy Macy’s. They modified it a bit, though. You’re not going to tell them to take it out, are you? You are Captain America in a way, you know.”
“They pasted my face on it!”
“Pretty good job, don’t you think?” Joe asked. “Even down to your eyepatch."
“It’s red, white, and blue!”
“So? It’s more patriotic than your black or red one.”
“There’s a balloon of Winston hovering over the RSPA float,” Chip said with a grin, handing Lee a multi-page fax of parade participants and preliminary photographs.
“This is supposed to be an inaugural parade, not the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade or the Rose Parade.”
“Live with it. You’re famous. You’re a hero. And you’re going to be president again…look at this picture. A girl dressed up like the Statue of Liberty blowing kisses and bubbles to the crowd.”
“We’re going to be a laughing stock to our allies,” Lee groaned.
“Not at all,” Emmie said, striding down the spiral ladder with Edith. “It’s a day of celebration. I do hope they’ll include the cats someplace though. Maybe the Loch Ness Monster and Rascal too. Now, where are we all going to sit during the ceremony?”
Joe had Sparks contact the inauguration committee and turned on the videophone for instructions once we reached D.C.
I doubt any of us will sleep tonight.