Life in the Fast Lane
If I had to pick only one episode (a dreadfully impossible task!) as my all-time favorite, it would be Mutiny. Every time I watch it, I find something new in its many layers. Between Lee, Harry and Jiggs Starke, there is so much happening in relation to personalities, friendships, loyalties - - the kind of stuff an introspective writer thrives on! As a result, I simply couldn’t leave the darn thing alone, hence my take on what happens after the final scene. This story initially grew from a single shot - - that freeze-frame of Lee after Harry’s meltdown in the control room, when he’s alone in his cabin, braced against his bunk staring into space. I couldn’t help thinking about what was going through his head and that was the start of “Life in the Fast Lane.” Thanks to my wonderful beta readers, Liz and Theresa! Comments welcome at veniceplace12@verizon.net
Finally.
Peace. Calm. Quiet.
Lee Crane closed the door of his cabin and stood a moment, soaking up the silence. The stillness felt odd after several days of high octane, rollercoaster emotions. Just a few short hours ago he’d stood in this same room, convinced he’d tossed his career in the trash. Over. Kaput. End of the road, Jack.
Mutiny.
It was an ugly word, one he’d never expected to be linked with his name. Still, he’d been fully aware of the consequences when he’d pulled a gun on two admirals, his exec and the entire control room crew. Nelson had been beyond sense, his gradually deteriorating mental state somersaulting into a catastrophic nosedive. There’d been no reasoning with the man, not even a hint of rationality as he’d spat and snarled about taking Seaview full speed ahead, fully backed by Jiggs Starke. The other admiral already viewed Lee as an upstart commander routinely treading the fine line of insubordination. His refusal to relinquish command had only confirmed Starke’s opinion. He’d since attained a new level of respect in Starke’s eyes, but his confrontation with Nelson lacked closure.
He wanted - - needed - - a chance to explain his actions.
True, he’d seen the admiral briefly in Sick Bay and had been relieved to learn the man’s erratic personality change was the result of a drug allergy, nothing more. Nelson had even murmured agreement when Starke told him how proud he should be of Lee. And yet . . .
Huffing out a breath, Lee paced to his desk and folded into the chair. It was time to start thinking about getting the crew home, returning to normal operations. He’d been on edge from the moment “Captain Bligh” a/k/a Jiggs Starke had strolled aboard with his timed missile drills, pointed criticism and dictatorial attitude. Originally, Lee had seesawed between tight-lipped irritation at Starke and gut-wrenching fear Nelson was dead - - lost at sea in the tragedy that claimed the Neptune. Anxiety had turned to euphoria when news arrived the admiral was safe in a Honolulu hospital. If he’d looked closely then, he would have likely noticed the older man’s restlessness right from the start. Instead, he’d been sidetracked by his own elation at finding Nelson alive and healthy.
Even afterward, the admiral had waffled between bouts of introspective silence and rapid-fire talkativeness, and, still, Lee let it go, ignoring the mounting warning flags in his head. It wasn’t until that confrontation in the control room when he’d been forced to draw a gun and commit mutiny in order to save the boat and her crew that he realized Nelson was beyond reach. He’d feared his friend had contracted the same terminal malady that claimed the life of one of Seaview’s divers. Somehow, when stacked against the loss of the admiral, tossing his career in the garbage had been insignificant.
Given the same set of circumstances, fully aware of the outcome, he’d do the bloody thing over again. With his boat on the line, the life of every crewmember hanging in the balance, his own future hadn’t mattered. He’d been fully prepared to face court-martial. What he hadn’t been prepared to do was surrender Admiral Harriman Nelson to the grave. The mere possibility left him shaken just thinking about it.
Leaning forward, he planted his elbows on the desk and bowed his face into his hands. Sometimes life in the fast lane was too much. The constant whirlwind of potential tragedy, near tragedy and looming danger might someday grow lethal. As a commander, he was expected to juggle anything circumstance tossed his way, even if it included brass-in-his-blood Jiggs Starke, a carnivorous sea jelly and a dear friend who’d undergone a shocking Jekyll/Hyde transformation.
It’s why you get the big bucks, Crane.
He gave a snort of laughter and raked a hand through his hair. At least he’d had a moment to talk to Chip afterward. He knew his friend didn’t hold anything against him, but it had felt wrong turning that gun on Chip, the same as it had felt wrong pointing the barrel at Nelson. Two of the most important people in his life, and he’d lumped them together, marking them as adversaries. What if Starke had ordered Chip to jump him? Could he have pulled the trigger?
He buried his face in his hands, frustrated that he’d degenerated into head games. It was over. The boat was safe, Nelson was recovering, Chip understood, and even Starke had come down off his high horse long enough to acknowledge Lee had been right.
It was time to step out of the fast lane and get back to normal. Time to recognize that even mutiny didn’t always mean the end of the line. He still had his career, he still had Seaview, but most of all - - he still had Nelson.
**********
“Understood, Sir.” Lee nodded politely, grinding his teeth to stop the retort forming on the tip of his tongue. Another day with Jiggs Starke breathing down his neck and he might just commit mutiny for real. Thankfully, Seaview would be docking in Santa Barbara by nightfall. If he could just survive the next few hours of having Starke scrutinize everything from system reports to course changes and even the duty roster, the boat would return to normal. Apparently, having Starke gain a new respect for his skill as a commander didn’t negate having the warhorse admiral criticize everything from his penmanship to the length of his log entries.
“How do you expect someone to read this? That ‘t’ looks like an ‘h’ and this ‘7’…” Starke tapped a finger against the offending numeral. “…a half-assed ‘9.’ Sloppy, Commander. Just plain sloppy.”
“Understood, Sir,” he said for the nth time. Lee had come to realize “sloppy” was one of Starke’s favorite words. Failing to find anything significant to criticize, the older man had resorted to nitpicking. It was comical when Lee thought about it. He was in command of a nuclear submarine and the greatest submersible vessel in the world, yet his time was being consumed by a lecture on how to write a proper ‘7.’ That one was definitely worth sharing with Chip. Preferably over a beer when he could spew the growing arsenal of expletives he wanted to unload on Starke.
Shooting a glance to his exec who stood near the sonar station, Lee couldn’t help wishing he could trade places. Chip had a far better head for paperwork and details. He knew the operation of the boat inside and out. He probably would have asked questions Starke couldn’t answer. Instead, Lee was the one stuck in the observation nose, seated next to Captain Bligh-incarnate, a host of tablets, folders, papers and log books spread on a work table before them. For the last two hours Starke had asked to see this report or that entry and Lee had patiently produced the requested items.
Or as patiently as he could, given the circumstances.
There was no question paperwork was not his forte. He excelled when he applied himself as he’d done at Annapolis, but given the choice, he was action-oriented and it showed in that damnable ‘7.’
“This looks rather in-depth,” a new voice noted.
Lee looked up, surprised to find Nelson striding toward the table from the topside stairs.
“Admiral!” The smile that flitted across his face was automatic. Just as quick came a flash of uneasiness. He had a sharp, vivid memory of his friend snarling at him in the control room, Nelson’s eyes glittering with emotion.
I treated you like a brother. You drew a gun on me! Get out of here! Get out of my sight!
Lee swallowed hard. “How are you feeling, Sir?” He started to stand, but Nelson waved him back into his chair.
“Fine.” The older man’s smile was warm and genuine. Halting in front of the table, he shifted his glance to Starke. “You’re not bombarding my captain with unnecessary paper audits, are you, Jiggs?”
It amazed Lee that Jiggs Starke could actually smile and that the frozen granite of his face morphed into agreeable warmth when he did. His reaction to Nelson was almost as unconscious as Lee’s own. Clearly the two men had a friendship that wasn’t that far removed from Lee’s close relationship with Chip.
“Don’t be critical, Harriman. Your captain’s barely old enough to cut his teeth on established procedure. I’m just making sure he gets it right.”
Nelson’s eyes shifted back to Lee. “Don’t you have something more vital you could be doing, Lee?”
A lifeline! God bless the man for getting his butt out of a sling. “Actually, Admiral, Patterson wanted to see me in the missile room. Something to do with the mini-sub.” He was groping for excuses, but didn’t care. Another hour with Starke and he was likely to be comatose, his eyes glazed over by tedium. He had talked to Patterson briefly, and there had been passing mention of the mini-sub, even if it was nothing critical.
Nelson waved him away from the table. “I think Jiggs and I can finish up here.”
“Aye, Sir.” Lee didn’t need to be told twice. Nelson had given him an out, and he intended to take it. Before Starke could so much as sputter a dictatorial objection, he pushed away from the table and exited through the control room.
**********
Harry watched him go, a shadow of amusement on his face. He knew Lee, and he knew Starke. The two together in close quarters over an extended period of time was a potentially combustible combination. Old Navy and new Navy, Starke had said, and perhaps he was right. What Jiggs didn’t understand was that under all that protocol and polished restraint, Lee Crane often walked a tightrope of self-control.
Following his glance, Starke frowned. “Hades, Harriman, you indulge him too much.”
Maybe he did. If he thought about it, Harry realized he actually liked having that freedom. Leniency and casual familiarity were indulgences he could extend to Lee and have the younger man recognize them for the rarity they were. Harry knew he’d always been deemed fair by junior officers but never exactly tolerant. Lee was probably the only one who saw him that way.
“You do realize before I recruited him for Seaview, Lee was deemed the Navy’s ‘best’ submarine commander.”
Starke rolled his eyes. “I never said he wasn’t good. He’s damn good, and he’s proven that. But even good captains need to be reminded of their position in the pecking order.”
“Lee doesn’t.”
“That’s only because you’ve made him that way . . . letting him speak his mind whenever it strikes him. It’s all the more reason he needs a dose of humility, even if it’s something as trivial as making him sit through a review of his logs and paperwork. A few hours of tedium is guaranteed to strip arrogance from the cockiest young rooster.”
Harry frowned, annoyed by yet another colleague who viewed Lee as arrogant. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his young captain’s age had a lot to do with that perception. Career Naval officers tended to assume if you were that good and that young, you had to be egotistical on top of it.
“Lee isn’t cocky.” Most of the time, he mentally amended.
“In your opinion. But he is young.”
“Granted, but it shouldn’t factor against him. He’s proven himself repeatedly, most recently just thirty-six hours ago when he saved all of us and this boat.” Harry shook his head, weary of the conversation. Starke could talk until he was blue in the face, but the other man would never sway his opinion of Lee Crane. “Right now I owe Lee an explanation about what happened in the control room. He deserves that much.”
Starke looked indignant. “He already knows what happened. You had an allergic reaction to cortisone. He’s a subordinate officer. That’s the end of it; no explanation required.”
“You just don’t get it do you?” There was no sense trying to explain. To Jiggs Starke, Lee would always remain a junior officer and nothing more. He could acknowledge brilliance and skill, but the thought of a close friendship with a subordinate was beneath him.
Harry fiddled with the edge of a paper, Lee’s scattershot handwriting scrawled across the surface. It was a shame when he thought about it. Starke had no clue what he was missing, sealing himself behind walls of divisional brass.
“Forget Crane,” Jiggs admonished, shoving a stack of folders aside. “This is the first you’ve really been up and about since . . . well, the incident. I say you take command from your exec and let everyone know you’re still a force to be reckoned with.”
Harry chuckled, hearing the spit-nail fire in Starke’s voice. “We do things a little differently on Seaview, Jiggs. And like I said - - I owe my captain an explanation. I stripped him of command, even if you later restored it. I’ve got some explaining to do.” He started to turn away but stopped, thinking better of it. “And, uh . . .” He waggled a finger in Starke’s direction. “Stay away from my XO while I’m gone. The man already knows how to make a damn fine ‘7.’”
**********
Harry stepped into the missile room to find Patterson and Lee in the vicinity of the mini sub. Head bowed, Lee was in the process of reviewing several papers attached to a clipboard, Patterson at his side.
“. . . should be operational now, Sir,” Harry heard the seaman relay as he pulled the hatch closed behind him.
“Very good, Pat. This all looks to be in order.”
Harry’s shoes clicked softly against the decking, drawing the attention of both men as he approached. Patterson smiled broadly, a reaction Nelson had experienced several times over in the control room and in the gangways whenever he encountered a junior officer or crewmember. A quick glance around confirmed no one else was in the room.
“Admiral, it’s good to see you up and around, Sir.”
“Thanks, Patterson.” After his catastrophic meltdown in the control room, it would have been understandable for the crew to feel awkward around him. He was thankful how readily they accepted he’d been acting under duress, the influence of a drug gone haywire. The cortisone had basically short-circuited his brainwaves, resulting in an acute personality disorder. He’d become someone else, a tyrannical caricature of himself.
Except even then, some of what he’d said . . . much of what he’d felt . . . was true. I treated you like a brother.
He shot a quick glance at Lee, noting his young commander appeared mildly uncomfortable. As he’d done with Jiggs Starke, Lee masked his reaction well. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed that concealed discomfort, but Harry had learned to read between the lines, if only where his captain was concerned.
“Patterson,” Nelson scuffed a hand over the back of his neck. “I noticed on the way down here that Curley was having problems in the circuitry room. I heard him mumbling something about a faulty connection. Why don’t you give him a hand?”
“Uh . . . sure, Sir.” Patterson sketched a quick glance between Harry and Lee, understanding the air between them needed to be cleared. He hadn’t been present in the control room during Harry’s meltdown and Lee’s mutiny but, like everyone on board, Harry was certain he’d heard the ugly details.
With a bob of his head and another grin for the admiral’s good health, Patterson crossed the room and vanished through the hatch. Alone with his captain, Harry felt relieved and surprisingly anxious.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t be resting, Admiral?” Lee asked before he could say anything. His gaze carried concern, easily readable in his eyes - - amber liberally flecked with smoked topaz and jade.
Changeling eyes, Harry thought but didn’t say it. Eyes that dimmed and brightened on a whim of shifting light and Lee’s own volatile emotions. He’d seen them grow dark on the bridge, like walnut in shade, when Harry had vehemently insisted he put a full up angle on the planes. Now they were candid - - expressive, concerned, tinged with antique gold and the all-too-obvious worry of a friend who wasn’t completely sure of his footing.
“I’m fine, Lee.”
As soon as he said the words, Lee looked away, those ridiculously long eyelashes dipping against his cheeks. It made him seem momentarily younger, uncertain. Then his gaze flashed back and the familiar control was there. Steel too.
“We should reach Santa Barbara by 2100 hours.” The same steel he’d shown in the control room when he’d chosen to mutiny rather than let his boat and crew suffer certain destruction. That character trait was never overtly blatant but always simmering beneath the surface. It was a delicate balance Lee managed well, steel and iron running beneath a quieter facade. His eyes dipped to the clipboard, and he thumbed back the top page. “I was just reviewing the latest systems check on the mini sub with Patterson.”
“All in order?” Harry wasn’t really interested. At least not now.
“Yes, Sir. There was a minor electrical problem, but it’s been resolved. It wouldn’t hurt to run some higher diagnostics when we get back to the institute.”
Harry nodded, listening to Lee rattle through a brief explanation of what had gone wrong. He paced a short distance away, nodding absently, hearing but tuning out most everything Lee told him. Instead, his mind was in overdrive, constantly vulture-circling around that ugly scene in the control room.
“But Admiral, in the hospital you said the Neptune foundered because she lost maneuvering speed.”
“I said no such thing!”
It surprised him how vivid his memory was given his mind had been fried at the time. It was like standing outside of himself and watching a despotic madman rage at his captain and friend.
“. . . you are relieved of your command, Captain.”
“. . . be staying, Admiral?”
He blinked, his thoughts scattering when he realized Lee had asked him a question. Chagrined to be caught off guard, he pawed the back of his neck a second time and let the corner of his mouth quirk up in a barely perceptible grin. “I’m sorry, Lee. What was that?”
“Admiral Starke.” Lee shifted slightly, and the light played over the surface of his remarkable eyes, dusting them with rich sienna. “When do you think he’ll head back to COMSUBPAC?”
“Probably shortly after we dock.” Strange. He hadn’t really had a chance to interact with Starke properly since he’d returned to Seaview, yet his concern was more for Lee than his longtime friend. “Uh, Lee . . .” It was time to get to the heart of the matter. He’d never been good at beating around the bush, a man who preferred to go straight for the jugular whatever the topic. The sooner he got it said, the better. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened in the control room.”
“That’s not necessary, Admiral.” Lee frowned, but it was clear he had reservations himself. As poised as he was, his eyes had a habit of betraying him. Harry read doubt in them now and wasn’t surprised to see Lee turn away and slide the clipboard into the cockpit of the mini sub.
“I never meant . . .” The younger man faltered, his voice soft, his lashes creating a dense web over his eyes. “I’m sorry I had to resort to a gun, Sir.”
As if you could have done anything differently.
“Lee, it was my fault.” Harry ground his teeth, each of them dancing around the issue. I treated you like a brother. He could still feel the raw emotion that pulsed through his body when he’d spat those words. They’d known each other for years on a professional level but, since Lee had assumed command of Seaview, their relationship continued to progress through an ever-expanding metamorphosis. Harry had the distinct impression it wasn’t done yet . . . that in the months, even years to come, that bond might eclipse his feelings of brotherly compassion. Hell, Lee was young enough to be his son. What if . . . ?
He let the thought trail away.
Lee was his captain, commander and friend. That should have been enough . . . was already extraordinary given their age difference and division in rank, but somehow it carried beyond that. I treated you like a brother.
Harry fought for emotional footing. “You do realize it was the drug talking? I wish it had been different, Lee. I never wanted to force you into mutiny. God knows, I’d never willingly relieve you of command. Seaview is yours as much as she’s mine.”
Lee nodded, trying not to show his discomfort. Even hearing Nelson say the word . . . Mutiny . . . left him cold inside. He remembered standing in his cabin afterward, Nelson’s abrasive words ping-ponging around the inside of his head. He’d been so sure life as he knew it was over - - his friendship with the admiral, his position on Seaview, even his career as a Naval officer.
Mutiny did that to a man.
He could still recall the sick roiling in his gut. The feeling had only grown worse when Will Jamieson showed up with the tragic news Barry Ridge, one of Seaview’s divers, had died. Ridge’s symptoms mirrored those of the admiral so precisely, Lee was certain his friend was only a step away from certain death. Even then, he hadn’t been able to dwell on the heinous possibility, Seaview falling under attack by the same gargantuan entity that had destroyed the Neptune.
It pushed him from one bullet-quick step to the next, like the rat-a-tat report of a gun. Life in the fast lane. When he thought about it, Lee realized he still hadn’t fully recovered from that rollicking rollercoaster ride. He’d taken care of the boat and crew, he talked to Chip, he’d even catered to Jiggs Starke and his shark-like propensity to circle for the blood of junior officers, but he’d done nothing to allay his own misgivings about what had transpired.
“Admiral . . .” His throat tightened. “What you said on the bridge . . . about treating me like a brother . . .”
Nelson’s eyes flicked away, the discomfort in his gaze so cutting Lee felt it scrape over his skin like the edge of a knife.
“Sir, I appreciate the way you’ve welcomed me aboard Seaview, but even further, I appreciate that you’ve allowed me to be more than just her captain . . . personally.” He didn’t know how to say it any plainer. He’d never been good at exposing himself to scrutiny, locking his feelings away ever since he was a child. An uncaring stepfather and a rigid upbringing in military school had taught him emotions had no place in the open. Hide them, deny them, never admit them - - and especially not out loud and never to another person.
He swallowed, his mouth dry. Why did he feel he could talk to Nelson as he’d never been able to talk to anyone else in his life, with the possible exception of Chip? “That decision I made . . . drawing a gun you . . .” He faltered, fighting through turbulence. “Sir, I knew you weren’t yourself.”
Nelson nodded, waving a hand to brush aside the obvious. “I know that, Lee. I have no ill will toward you. If anything, I’m proud of your conviction - - your willingness to sacrifice yourself, your career, in order to save Seaview. I never doubted your dedication or loyalty, but what you did in the control room proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I couldn’t have chosen a better commander for my submarine.” The strain in his face eased with a grin, and he held out his hand. “Or a friend.”
Lee felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach - - a release of tension that catapulted from his gut to his head. Just that quick, all the conflict he’d been feeling vanished in the blink of an eye. His grin was spontaneous, as blinding as the quicksilver flash of warmth invading his veins. He wrapped his fingers around Nelson’s, delighted to seal their understanding with a handshake. It lasted all of a heartbeat before the admiral tugged and Lee found himself jerked into an unexpected embrace.
He felt Nelson’s arms around him, a gruff pat on the back, the whole thing over before he could truly appreciate what had happened. He blinked, finding his fingers still clasped around the admiral’s. He knew his expression mirrored surprise, but couldn’t wipe the shock - - or the pleasure - - off his face.
Nelson grinned, dropping his hand. “Are you ready to head home, Captain?”
Lee’s smile wasn’t quite as dazzling as before, but it was threaded with emotion he hadn’t expected to feel. Rather than bury it as he’d done all his life, he allowed himself to appreciate it for the remarkable revelation it was. “I am, Sir.” His smile inched higher. Who knew that mutiny and life in the fast lane could result in something so richly rewarding?
Nelson clearly enjoyed his reaction. “He might have come off like a tin-plated Napoleon in the beginning, but Jiggs was right about one thing…” The admiral grinned ear-to-ear. “I couldn’t be prouder, Lee. Not of my commander, my friend . . . or my brother.”
Closure.
It was all Lee had ever really needed.
*****End*****
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