Masquerade

By Kate

Thanks, as always, to Liz and Theresa for betaing and invaluable feedback during the process of this story. Comments can be sent to me at veniceplace12@verizon.net. I hope you enjoy the tale!

It wasn’t the best night for star-gazing, but the haze from the city was dimmer than usual, the sky crisp and black by contrast. Lee Crane strolled onto the terrace, thankful when a cooling draft of air skimmed across his face. It carried the tang of the ocean, salty and damp, as it danced away to weave effortlessly between the trees.

With another glance for the sky, Lee stepped from the terrace and wound his way among the Institute grounds. Behind him, the muted din of voices, laughter and music faded until swallowed by the natural harmony of the night. He knew he should probably go back inside but the reception only added to the resentment he’d been harboring most of the day. He’d done his part. He’d greeted Dr. Sherman Eldridge and his wife, Cadie. He’d met several assistants, all employed by the Eldridge Foundation for Scientific and Medical Research. He’d played the social role of Seaview’s commander for several hours, but now he just wanted to be left alone.

It wasn’t the expedition. There’d been plenty of those before, and he’d long since gotten used to having scientists crawl around his boat. He was even starting to appreciate their mentality. No, what bothered him was a last minute substitution. He could still recall sitting in Admiral Nelson’s office at the Institute, Chip beside him in front of Nelson’s walnut desk. They’d been reviewing the departure schedule for the expedition when Nelson slid a clipboard under his nose.  

“There’s been a last minute change,” the admiral explained. “Eldridge’s lead biochemist was involved in a car accident. He’s been hospitalized - - stable, but incapacitated. Eldridge is sending his senior medical scientist in his place.” Nelson nodded to the clipboard in Lee’s hand. “That’s the final expedition list.”

Lee looked over the names, most familiar from phone or video discussions. This particular expedition was the first time they’d worked with the Boston-based Eldridge Foundation, but the institute’s reputation was impeccable, well known and respected in scientific circles. 

Beside him, he felt Chip stiffen and exchange an uneasy glance with the admiral. Something about their silent communication made him uncomfortable. His eyes lighted on the final name on the list and he abruptly understood why:  Dr. Mitchell Blake.

He couldn’t stop his reaction any more than he could his head from snapping up, his eyes darting to Nelson’s face. 

The admiral watched him levelly. “Do you have a problem with this, Lee?”

“Of course not.” His hackles rose but he masked it well. At least until he shoved the clipboard back across the desk and it dropped with a clatter. 

Damn, he should have known sooner or later his stepfather’s career would bludgeon headfirst into his path. Mitchell had done mostly consulting and freelance work, preferring the lecture circuit to the lab. Two years ago he’d aligned himself with a research foundation, but Lee hadn’t taken the time to investigate further. In truth, he hadn’t cared.

He didn’t care much about - - or for - - Mitchell. The less contact he had with the stiff-necked S.O.B. the better. And now he was going to be stuck underwater in a confined space with the bastard for weeks. 

It didn’t matter. The sea, particularly the ocean bottom, was his element. 

 Clearly, the admiral and Chip had already been discussing his reaction to the news before he’d arrived in the room. As if he couldn’t adjust to having Dr. Mitchell Blake on his boat! It had been a good eight months since he’d been home for Christmas, a good eight months since he’d last seen or even talked to the man. He’d survived twenty-four years with nothing but iciness between them. Surely, he could manage a few paltry weeks with Blake aboard Seaview.  

“Is that all, Sir?” he asked with a cool glance. “There are several issues I still have to resolve before Seaview will be ready for this expedition.”

Nelson narrowed his eyes, not ready to yield so easily. “Lee. I know you don’t have the best relationship with your stepfather. Having him aboard…”

“I told you it won’t be a problem, Admiral.” He stood, pushing the dismissal, itching to be away, wanting nothing more than to escape the scrutiny of his two friends.

Lee drew a breath as the scene faded in his head. Thankfully, Mitchell had yet to arrive at the Institute. The last minute change meant he would barely make it through security before Seaview’s scheduled departure. 

Despite what he’d told the admiral, Lee was not looking forward to having his stepfather on the boat. Especially after recently spending a day with his biological father. Through a miraculous twist of fate, Grayson Crane had been catapulted from the past for a brief glimmer in time. As short as that reunion was, Lee had walked away with a new appreciation for the man who’d given him life, a profound sadness their time together couldn’t continue, and an ever-growing resentment for the man who’d taken Grayson’s place. 

Maybe if Mitchell had treated him differently as a child he wouldn’t harbor such anger and bitterness. But all he’d ever known from the rigidly precise man was harsh discipline and criticism. And now that same man was going to step on board Seaview. The boat was Lee’s domain, one he’d always envisioned free of Mitchell’s domineering influence.

He ground his teeth together.

It would be different this time. He was captain and commander on his vessel. True, Mitchell was aware of his position, but he’d never taken any pride in his stepson’s accomplishments. He’d shown no interest in Lee’s career, or in Seaview herself. Except now, Dr. Sherman Eldridge and his Foundation needed both and, by default, Mitchell did too. The tables were turned.

“Did you come from the party?”

Lee gave an unconscious jerk, chagrined to be caught off guard. The voice that interrupted was somehow familiar though he was certain he’d never heard it before. He’d remember a woman’s voice like that - - melodic and rich, smooth as the lap of an ebb tide against the shore.

“I . . .” Confused, he looked around, realizing he’d strolled a good distance from the Institute’s reception area. He stood in a small ornamental garden forded by shade trees on the east side of the building. For security reasons, it was only accessible by the path he’d taken. He’d heard no one behind him, yet the girl appeared as if she’d materialized at his shoulder.

“Have you been out here long?” he asked. 

She smiled and his feeling of disorientation grew stronger. 

“Just a short time,” she assured. “I was waiting for you.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, surprised to find himself at such a bewildering disadvantage. He was normally more poised with women, his charm unconscious, even automatic. Instead of feeling that confidence and ease, he felt only confusion. He tried to pinpoint what it was about her that made him feel like he’d stepped into a world flirting with the ephemeral and surreal.

Nearly as tall as he was, the woman was willowy thin with midnight blue eyes and a waterfall of curling white-blonde hair. In the darkness, those tumbling waves took on the silvery celestial glow of the moon, more ivory than wheat, her skin nearly as pale and luminescent. 

“You’re Captain Lee Crane,” she said with that same bewitching smile. “I’ve known you for such a long time.”

The statement made no better sense than her first. But she took his hand and stepped closer and suddenly neither mattered. Looking into her eyes was like looking into the heart of the ocean - - into untamed water, wind and waves. He felt a thrumming pulse like a sudden undercurrent of electricity, and was overwhelmed by the inexplicable certainty he should know her. That he did know her on some indiscernible level that bonded heart, feelings and blood. 

He lifted a hand and touched her cheek, the skin beneath his fingertips as white and smooth as chilled porcelain. “I know you . . . don’t I?”

Her smile grew, lighting her eyes with the vibrant radiance of ocean water and stars. “Yes. You’ve talked to me on many nights. You’ve made me feel alive and cherished as no other man has. I felt our connection from the start.”

Lee wet his lips, aware of a heightened attraction between them - - a desire, almost a need to seal a union he didn’t understand. It was raw, wild and hurtful, fated in a way that made no sense. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Mae will do. I think I like it.”

He laughed, made a little giddy by such an unexpected statement. “You’re not sure?”

“It’s never easy to choose.” She tilted her head, that cascade of hair flowing like silk about her shoulders. “Do you like it, Lee?”

“Yes.” He stroked her cheek. “It’s a beautiful name. It makes me think of spring and newness.”

“That’s why I chose it.”

He frowned, only half aware of the conversation. “You chose. What about your parents?”

“You don’t really want to talk about my name, do you?” Her eyes roamed to the sky and the full moon ringed by an ice-white necklace of stars. “I only have tonight.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant, didn’t understand why it was so important, but knew that it mattered. Giving rein to impulse, he took a final step, sealing the distance between them. Slipping a hand beneath her chin, he gently tipped her lips up to his. She tasted of moon-kissed seawater and starlight, of wind and sun-streaked skies, of all that he could imagine holding in his heart when he stood in the sail of his boat.  

He heard her sigh softly, her body trembling as she leaned against him. Her fingers slid onto his shoulders, then behind his neck, her nails feathering the edges of his short black hair. Rather than step away, he wrapped his arms around her, deepening the kiss until it grew hard to think straight. It suddenly dawned on him that he was standing in a garden, not far from a professional reception, making a spectacle of himself with a woman he’d only just met. 

Reluctantly, he drew back. “I barely know you.”

She tilted her head to gaze up at him, her long hair sliding over the sleeve of his officer’s coat. “You’ve known me for years, Lee. You just don’t realize it.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Somehow he knew it was true. “This isn’t the place.”

“No,” she agreed, her fingers brushing across his lips. “Take me home with you.”  

He felt an ache deep in his groin. He wasn’t a man who did one-night stands, at least not normally, yet there was something about her that made him crave the heat of their bodies together. She could have drugged him somehow. She could be an enemy agent intent on leading him into a trap, but instinct told him his latent paranoia was misplaced.

When he kissed her, he felt something he couldn’t explain. And he wanted to go on kissing her. He wanted to tumble her into his bed, to mold his body to hers in the heat of passion without concern for anything else. For once in his life he wanted to act on raw instinct no matter how selfish or irresponsible that desire.

Cupping a hand beneath her chin he gazed into her eyes, so blue-black it was like staring into a stray patch of midnight. “Are you sure you want that, Mae?” Hell, he must be out of his mind, thinking about sex with a woman he’d known for all of ten minutes. Yet it felt right. Somehow the mere thought of having her beneath him made him ache with need and longing. 

“It’s why I’ve been waiting for you, Lee.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his shoulder as she leaned against him. Her voice grew softer, so slipper-quiet he could barely hear. “I’ve waited such a long time.”

Forgetting the reception still in swing behind him, Lee slipped his arm around her shoulders, leading her from the garden. “I have the strangest feeling I’ve been waiting for you too.”

**********

He had a headache, just another thorn in his side to put him in a foul mood. The night had been remarkable, more dream than reality as he’d made love to Mae into the gray hours of pre-dawn. He’d fallen asleep with her twined in his arms, but when the sun had risen, he’d realized she was gone. With a profound sense of sadness, it dawned on him he didn’t even know her last name.  

She must think I’m a lecher, interested only in sex. What kind of man makes love to a woman and doesn’t even take the time to learn her full name? 

He could almost believe he’d dreamt the whole thing except her scent still clung to his sheets - - not perfume exactly, but something far more elemental and earthy. It made him think of starlight and ocean water, of the sea rolling against the shore. 

Tired, his head pounding - - hell, did he have too much to drink? - - he fumbled his way into the bathroom and stumbled under the shower. He’d never been a drinker, but he’d had a few scotch and sodas last night to offset his irritation at having Mitchell Blake dumped on his boat. Neither his aggravation nor the liquor had done anything to impede his performance in bed. If there’d been one bright spot to yesterday’s frustration, it was Mae.

He’d have to ask around, see if anyone else had noticed her at the reception. With all that near-white hair she’d have been impossible to overlook. So why didn’t I notice her during the party? Maybe he’d just been too distracted thinking about seeing Mitchell again. At the very least if he found out the girl’s full name, or someone that knew her, he could get a message to her. He’d hated she’d left without him having a chance to explain Seaview was readying to sail. Odds were, since she’d been at the reception, she already knew that. Still - - he didn’t like feeling he’d engaged in a one-night stand, even if their hunger for lovemaking had been mutual.

He would have normally spent the night on the boat with Seaview leaving port in a few hours, but just like Mitchell’s unexpected addition to the manifest, his own life had taken a twist he hadn’t seen coming. Why had Mae been so insistent she knew him . . . that she had for a long time? And why did he feel that somehow he had known her too?

He didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on the dilemma, already running late.

By the time he showered, dressed and reached Seaview, Lee was forced to put the evening behind him. He went through the security checks, signed in at the dock, gave orders for his gear to be stowed then immediately headed for the control room still wearing his khaki officer’s coat.

“Where’s the admiral?” he asked Chip Morton as he tossed his hat on the plotting table.

His friend and executive officer paused in the act of reviewing the departure list attached to his clipboard. “Showing our guests around. And looking for you.” He grimaced. “You’re late, Lee. I thought something might have happened to you. Everyone else is aboard and we’re ready to sail. The old man’s in a snit.”

Lee attempted to lighten the mood. “I thought I was the ‘Old Man’.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle the admiral.” He had more faith in the statement than he actually felt. Retrieving the hand mike from the side of the plotting table, he paged Nelson over the intercom. “Admiral, this is Crane. Come in, Sir.”

It took only a matter of seconds for Nelson’s voice to crackle across the open line. “Lee, where have you been?”

“I was delayed, Sir. I’ll explain later.” Exactly how he was going to explain his tardiness, he had no idea. “I’m in the control room now.”

“Very well. Take her out of dock. I’ll bring our guests up to the observation nose.”

“Aye, Sir.” Lee double-clicked the microphone and gave the order for departure. “All hands stand by to answer bells.”

Chip was still frowning at him. “What happened last night? You disappeared from the reception for Eldridge and his scientists. It was a glaring absence, Lee. If you wanted to tick the admiral off, you couldn’t have compounded it any better than by being late on top of it.”

“Later,” Lee snapped, only then becoming aware of how badly he’d screwed up. Nelson didn’t just want him at his Institute receptions for dignitaries and guests. As Seaview’s captain, he was expected to be there from start to conclusion. Disappearing in the middle might easily be construed as a public snub, at the very least, extremely rude. Not only did he have to explain his behavior to Nelson, he had to apologize to Eldridge and his wife. Thank the powers-that-be Mitchell hadn’t been there, having arrived only that morning, and he wouldn’t have to humble himself to his gloating stepfather.

Agitated, he dragged a hand over the back of his neck. Why did he automatically assume Mitchell would gloat? Did he just detest the man that much?

Lee was still running through departure procedures when Nelson and the Eldridge scientists arrived in the observation nose by way of the topside stairs. Leaving him to get the boat out of dock, they gathered near the herculite windows, listening as orders and acknowledgements pinged around the control room and a frothy-white cascade of water churned up around Seaview’s nose. Eventually Lee gave the order to submerge 90 feet then left the con to Chip. 

“It’s riveting,” he heard Cadie Eldridge whisper as he joined the group near the windows. She seemed enraptured by the view beyond the glass. Seaview’s exterior nose light cut a path through the murky depths as bubbles of water floated up from the hull, as graceful and free-floating as living organisms.

“I guess we’ve gotten used to it,” Lee countered.

As one, the group looked in his direction. Nelson frowned slightly, but Lee was sure it had nothing to do with the observation he’d just made. He smiled, confident and at ease, sliding into effortless charm as much for the admiral’s sake as by nature. “Mrs. Eldridge.” He extended his hand, clasping her fingers in a courtly fashion. “I’m sorry I was unable to remain at the reception last night and have to plead your pardon for my absence. A matter arose I couldn’t leave unattended.”

“I understand perfectly, Captain.” She was a tiny woman, not so much short in stature, but delicate looking and frail. Her hair had been blond once but was now liberally threaded with silver, her eyes a blend of sea and sky. He knew she’d been sick, that her health was not the best, but that she’d insisted on accompanying her husband on the cruise. 

“I’m not sure how you could ever get used to anything as amazing as that.” She motioned to the windows and the view beyond the glass. “The sea is eternally mysterious . . . beautiful, yet somehow tragic. I don’t think I could ever take such a gift for granted.”

“My wife is a bit poetic,” Sherman Eldridge inserted with a smile. Wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, he gave her a kiss on the brow. “And I don’t think Captain Crane meant the men of the Seaview take the ocean for granted, darling.”

“No, not at all.” Lee was quick to assure. “If anything, quite the opposite.” Deciding to change tactics, he shifted topics. “I hope everyone’s quarters are satisfactory?”

There were general murmurs of assent as his eyes skimmed over the group. He’d met all of them before - - Eldridge and his wife Cadie, Jon McDevitt, a microbiologist, two research assistants, Evelyn Palmer and Tim Colton and, of course, Mitchell Blake.

He’d been careful to avoid his stepfather’s gaze since entering the nose, but now made it a point to look squarely at Mitchell. “Living on a submarine is different than walking around on land, but I know most of you are comfortable with smaller submersibles. We’ll run submerged the entire way.”

“How long?” Eldridge asked.

“Four days.”

Mitchell gave a disparaging snort. “I thought this was the greatest submarine in the world. That’s the best you can do?”

Lee felt his hackles rise. Before he could say anything, Nelson intervened.

“It isn’t that she can’t go faster, just that it doesn’t make sense when the urgency is limited.” His glance for Mitchell was stern, but grew more agreeable when he looked back to Sherman and his wife. “Trust me, we do understand how critical your work is. Fluorescent proteins in coral reefs have the potential to significantly impact the treatment of cancer, Alzheimer’s and a host of other diseases. We’re here to help in any way we can. Would you like to get set up in the lab?”

Sherman nodded. “Yes, of course. Jon, Tim and Evelyn will see to that. I’d like to take my wife back to her cabin to rest a bit, and I believe Mitchell has some progress notes to review. “

“Fine,” Nelson acknowledged. “I’ll point you to the lab. We’d enjoy your company for dinner this evening in the nose. In the meantime . . .” Extending his arm, he indicated the stairs. 

Lee watched the group head topside lead by Nelson, and realized he’d unconsciously been holding his breath. All things considered, it hadn’t been that bad. True, his stepfather still knew how to push his buttons when fishing for a rise, but Lee had kept his reactionary friction to a minimum. Of course, Nelson had intervened when Mitchell made that crack about Seaview. He’d expected the admiral to defend his submarine, but Lee had a sneaking suspicion Nelson had also been trying to prevent a scene, fully aware of how quickly Lee’s temper could flare.

It amazed him to realize that until this morning, Nelson had never actually met Dr. Mitchell Blake. He’d heard Lee talk about him, yet even those instances he’d kept to a minimum, never comfortable broadcasting his personal life. Chip had met the research doctor twice - - once at their graduation from Annapolis  - - then several years later when Lee had been visiting his mother over the holidays and had taken Chip with him. Chip’s opinion of Mitchell wasn’t much better than his own, but then he’d told Chip a lot more about his personal life than he’d shared with anyone else, the admiral included.

“So?” As if on cue, his executive officer appeared beside him in the nose. “How’d it go with Mitchell? Did you manage to keep your thoughts of decapitation to a minimum or should I polish up my Robespierre act?”

Lee slid him a sideways glance. “Hold off on the guillotine. How was he with you?”

“How do you think? Ice personified. Barely acknowledged me when he came aboard. Hopefully, Dr. Eldridge and his research team will keep the old goat occupied and out from under your feet.” He snickered. “No offense, Lee, but I don’t think he likes being around you anymore than you like being around him. It amazing the two of you can play nice at all for the sake of your mother.”

Lee heaved a mental sigh. There was that. He had to remember most everything he said and did would eventually wend its way back to his mother courtesy of her disapproving husband. That reality had hung over Lee’s head for twenty-four years, ever since the widowed Ellen Crane had given her hand to Mitchell Blake in marriage. 

“You’ll do what I tell you, when I tell you and you’ll do it willingly, you smart-mouthed brat!”

Lee closed his eyes, remembering the first time he’d felt the crack of his stepfather’s hand across his face. After that initial confrontation, Mitchell’s discipline had been mostly ‘hands off.’ Usually he preferred to deprive Lee of something that mattered, or better yet, hold Ellen Blake’s health over his head. His mother hadn’t been well in those early days of marriage, and Lee had done everything he could to care for her, to make her happy. At times that included subjecting himself to Mitchell’s demeaning insults for fear if he didn’t do exactly as his stepfather said, Mitchell would paint him as rebellious and ungrateful in front of his mother. 

So he routinely ate crow, bowing to Mitchell’s authority, or on the few occasions when he didn’t, found himself locked in his room until he learned ‘respect for his elders’. There was the occasional welt on his cheek, but it happened rarely enough that his mother believed him when he said he’d fallen. He was almost grateful when Mitchell shipped him off to military school two years later, though even then Mitchell’s treatment of him didn’t change when he came home on holidays or vacations. 

By the time he entered Annapolis, Mitchell no longer dared raised a hand to him, but his stepfather’s resentment remained, as chill and ugly as before. There were no longer punishments to mete out, but his disapproval grew snide whenever Ellen wasn’t around. In the time since, they’d grown used to avoiding one another whenever possible, their underlying animosity still there, but something two professional men no longer bothered to acknowledge.

Growing agitated again, Lee ripped his fingers through his hair. “I would expect Mitchell to continue to treat me like shit, but I don’t expect that attitude to carry over to you or anyone else on the crew.”

“Face it, Lee.” Chip shrugged. “Some people were just born miserable. Mitchell Blake is one of them. The only thing he’s got going for him is that for some unfathomable reason, he can separate that misery from his marriage. He treats your mother well.”

Lee didn’t want to hear it. “She doesn’t love him. She never did. He’s just a convenience.”

“Don’t you think he knows that? Maybe that’s the whole reason he’s a tyrant with you. He can’t take his anger out on her - - he loves her too much. You’ve always been the most opportune target. As a kid, you had to take it. As a man, he knows how to goad you into it. The bastard’s had years of practice.”

“Don’t remind me.” Lee stuffed his hands in his pockets. He’d never stopped to consider Mitchell might actually know how his mother felt. For all his faults, Mitchell did love her but he couldn’t say the same for her. He’d seen how open and giving she’d been with his father, Grayson. Her relationship with Mitchell was structured and orderly, not spontaneous, filled with laughter and love. The difference was night and day. Somewhere buried deep inside, Lee had always resented that she’d married for convenience. Resented her, though he’d never tell her . . . and that made him hate himself for thinking something so dreadful. It was easier to blame Mitchell and to keep blaming Mitchell.

“So what happened to you last night?” Chip prompted, changing the subject. “The last I knew you were stepping outside for some air then you never came back. And this morning . . . running late like that.”

Lee shook his head. “I’ll have to tell you later. He didn’t say it, but I have a feeling I’m expected to check in with the admiral.” At the very least it gave him some breathing room. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share his memories of Mae with Chip. Although it happened rarely, it wasn’t the first time he’d had a one-night stand, just the first he’d been moved by something beyond physical gratification. His friend would probably snort and tell him he’d been too long without sex. 

“Chip . . .” He hesitated, at the very least needing more information. “Last night at the reception, there was a woman named ‘Mae’ . . . I didn’t get her last name.”

“Oh?” Chip grinned like a Cheshire cat. “She wouldn’t have anything to do with your disappearing act would she?”

Lee frowned. “Stop thinking like a jerk, Morton. I just want to know if you talked to her.”

“If I did, she would have definitely found me more attractive - - and charming. You’re as social as a scorpion.”

“Mister Morton …”

Chip snickered at Lee’s frigid command tone. “All right. I get it, Captain. Just tell me what she looked like.”

Lee took a moment to set aside his anger. Between having Mitchell on board and his friend’s jibes, he was slipping into a black mood. “Tall and thin with dark blue eyes and waist-length blond hair.” He paused, remembering how Mae had looked standing in the garden, then later in his bed, all that tumbled hair spread out around her in a riotous veil. “Almost white hair and very pale.” Not albino pale, but her skin had been an intoxicating blend of cameo and rose. He remembered how his darker complexion had looked in contrast, their bodies twined together, deep bronze and pale ivory.

Watching his expression, Chip gave a loud snort. “You’re besotted.”

“Damn it, Chip!”

“Okay, Romeo.” Realizing he’d reached the limit of fun at his friend’s expense, Chip held up a hand to forestall another outburst. “I didn’t see anyone like her at the party and I sure as hell would have remembered a woman who looked like that. So who was she?”

Lee glanced away. “Nobody.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll buy that. Just like I’ll buy having Mitchell onboard doesn’t bother you.”

Lee shot him a glare. It was amazing the things he let Chip get away with when they were alone or out of earshot of the crew. He was the captain and Chip his XO, but ever since Annapolis Chip had taken the lead in their personal lives. In the beginning, Lee had chalked it up to the fact he was a year and a half younger and not nearly as outgoing as his blond friend. But as he grew more confident in his abilities as a leader and became more socially adept, he’d come to realize there were certain areas of his life he just willingly relinquished to Chip. 

Before he could snap a reply, he heard Nelson page him across the intercom. 

“Crane, here,” he responded, moving to the wall to retrieve the nearest mike.

“Lee, I’d like to see you in my cabin.”

“On my way, Admiral.” Lee returned the mike to its mount, casting Chip a glance over his shoulder. “What’d I tell you? Summoned to the principal’s office.”

Chip laughed. “At least you’re joking about it. Keep that frame of mind because you know he’s going to hit you up about last night and Mitchell.”

Lee nodded. He had the feeling it was going to be a long cruise.

**********

His agitation thinned as he walked to Nelson’s cabin. As always, whenever he was alone on Seaview a sense of peace flowed through him - - an inherent connection to the boat he’d never truly understood. He felt it most powerfully at night when the duty watch was at minimal, the sun buried somewhere below the rim of the earth. He’d served on, and even commanded other submarines, but he’d never felt the same appreciation he did for his ‘gray lady.’ As a submariner he’d learned to pick out subtle nuances of every minor shift and fluctuation of the boat . . . the purr and hum of the engines, the systematic pump of the turbines, the smooth whirr of the propeller. Nelson might have designed her, but Lee knew every inch of Seaview almost as thoroughly as the admiral. She wasn’t a living entity, but to him she far surpassed being a sophisticated hunk of steel, cabling and mechanical parts. It might be a silly way of expressing it, but he’d bonded with her. Even now she soothed his rough edges. By the time he reached Nelson’s cabin, his belligerence had faded into something completely manageable.

“Come,” Nelson instructed at his knock.

Lee walked into the room to find the admiral standing behind his desk, a series of books and maps spread across the surface. He had a pencil in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “What do you know about GFPs?” he asked.

Expecting to be queried about his absence last night, Lee was caught momentarily off guard. “Green fluorescent proteins? Isn’t that the whole reason for this cruise . . . for Sherman and his scientists to harvest what they can from the Delayian Coral Reef?”

Nelson stubbed out his cigarette, his mind clearly streaking ahead at light speed. “Do you realize GFPs play a role in the bioluminescence emitted by jellyfish? Sherman hopes there will come a day when we can successfully manipulate the DNA of jellyfish GFP to obtain red fluorescent proteins. The potential for medical advancement would be extraordinary.” Nelson flipped a page in the nearest book, rattling on as if giving a lecture on theory. “Red penetrates deeper into living tissue. Think about it, Lee! Researchers could attach molecules to proteins inside a dividing cell - - like cancer or a virus. Something as simple as shining a light on the appropriate color would allow us to see how the virus spreads. Of course the big goal would be to put the proteins in the brains of living organisms and observe what the brain is doing.”

“Admiral.” Concerned, Lee took a step forward. “You’re not suggesting . . .”

“No, no, of course not.” Nelson batted a hand at the air. “I’m just pointing out that by watching how the brain works when it’s given a command - - raising your arm for example - - we’d be able to determine what nerves are fired. Take a spinal cord injury. The brain can still create a muscle command, but damage to nerve tissue prevents the message from reaching the muscle. If we have a system for interpreting the brain commands, researchers may be able to circumvent them. Perhaps through advanced robotics.”

Lee nodded, pressing his fingertips to his temples. Nelson was clearly in the throes of scientific ecstasy. As an intellectual, Nelson had no peer, but sometimes that brilliance overshadowed everything else. He’d obviously been inspired by Sherman’s research and had happily garroted himself into taking a more detailed look. Lee, however, was still thinking about a woman with winter-white hair and a stepfather who could potentially make the next few weeks sheer hell.

“Is this what you wanted to see me about, Sir?”

“What?” Nelson looked at him like a child stumbling over something unexpected, yet wholly delightful. He laughed, the Irish coming through in his broad grin. “God, I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

“No, I …”

Nelson waved to the chair beside his desk. “Sit down, Lee. I didn’t expect to get so involved in the potential for Sherman’s research in so short a time. We had an enjoyable walk on the way to his cabin.”

Lee took a seat in the proffered chair. “How’s his wife feeling?”

“Weary, but I think she’ll be fine after a few hours rest. Sherman said she tends to tire easily. A single glance and it’s obvious she has a delicate constitution. Uh, Lee.” Changing tactics, Nelson sat and flipped shut the nearest book. “About last night…”    

“I’m sorry I disappeared, Sir. I realize it wasn’t the most responsible thing to do.”

“Would you care to elaborate where you went?”

“Not particularly.” Lee hedged. “Not unless you order me to, and I really wish you wouldn’t.” It wasn’t an approach he’d take with just any senior officer, but he knew Nelson would let him off the hook. In the two-plus years he’d been on Seaview, he and the admiral had grown exceptionally close. Only recently, after the incident with his father, Nelson had taken him on a vacation to Australia in hopes it would help him heal from the emotional scars. He’d been recovering from a physical injury as well, a bullet wound received on an ONI mission in Venice.  

He’d been more candid with Nelson during the Australia trip than any other time he could recall. They’d talked a lot about Grayson, his childhood, and some of his memories growing up. He hadn’t talked a great deal about Mitchell, preferring to keep that darker aspect of his life to himself, but much of what he’d left unsaid fell between the lines.

Nelson studied him carefully, considering. He knew Lee would tell him the truth if he pushed it. Initially, he’d been angry. As Seaview’s captain, protocol dictated Lee be present at any function involving dignitaries, guests or public relations. On the plus side, Lee had put in an appearance and stayed for a few hours before pulling his vanishing act. What’s more, he’d smoothed over the whole incident by apologizing to Sherman and his wife in the nose, and like most women, Mrs. Eldridge had been won over by his charm. 

As usual, Harry found himself willing to make exceptions for his young commander. Only a few short months ago, Lee’s world had been thrown into turmoil by the phenomenal appearance, then subsequent loss of, his father - - the same father who’d died in a shipwreck when he was eight-years-old. That had been a hard enough hurdle to navigate, but he’d been injured on top of it, the bullet wound he’d suffered in Venice becoming infected. Thank God, Harry had been able to fall back on the Australia excursion. Including Lee and delaying Seaview’s next scheduled departure by several weeks had been just the ticket to help Lee over his emotional slump.

Unfortunately, four weeks more found him with Mitchell Blake an unwanted passenger on his boat. Harry didn’t know the complete history between Mitchell and Lee, but knew a good deal of animosity existed between them - - specifically on Lee’s part. He’d always thought his commander fair and open-minded, but Lee’s temper held a highly volatile side. Given significant cause, it could flare sharper than his own. 

“Did your disappearance have anything to do with Mitchell?” he persisted.

“No, Sir.”

No hesitation. Whatever reason had caused Lee to wander off last night, it wasn’t because he’d been miffed about Mitchell. Deciding he was no longer as angry as he thought he’d been, Harry nodded. “Fine. We’ll leave it alone.” Lee had a habit of making him second-guess himself as no one else could. Had any other officer pulled the same stunt in Lee’s place, Harry would have read them the riot act. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t playing favorites, but hell - - he was. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a reason. There were extenuating circumstances which should account for something, and bottom line, this was Lee.

He trusted his commander and friend and respected his privacy. When Lee was ready to discuss last night, he’d do it willingly. Not because he was ordered, or because he felt the need to provide an explanation for his behavior. He’d do it because he wanted to unload, or perhaps because he needed the sounding board of a trusted friend.

“Well, Captain . . .” Harry rolled his chair closer to the desk, intent on diving back into his research. “I’ll let you go about your duties. Dinner with our guests will be at 1900 in the nose.”

Lee nodded and stood. 

Harry had the distinct impression he wasn’t looking forward to dinner with his stepfather, but credited Lee with not making an issue of it. Hopefully, come 1900, he’d behave in the same professional manner.

***********

Chip swallowed a mouthful of coffee, counting down the minutes until the god-awful dinner reached its end. All things considered, it had gone better than expected. Sherman, his wife and Mitchell Blake were the only ones to attend from the Eldridge group, the research assistants and Jon McDevitt, preferring to eat sequestered in their lab, hunched over textbooks and notes. Sherman and the admiral had maintained a steady dialog about coral reefs, florescent proteins and molecule applications.

Mitchell’s interaction seemed more haughty than informative, and Chip couldn’t help feel he was showing off in front of Lee, rattling medical and scientific conjecture like a primary language. Chip knew his friend could easily debate speculation and the most-complicated theory with minimal effort - - he’d seen him do it countless times with Nelson - - but Lee chose to sit the discussion out as if it soared over his head. 

And that had Chip grinding his teeth. He told himself Lee was just being polite, chatting with Mrs. Eldridge instead. For her part, the woman definitely found him charming and seemed thankful for a discussion partner. Yet, the longer the meal progressed, the more irked Chip grew with both Mitchell and Lee. Mitchell, for being such a puffed-up jackass, clearly on a mission to make his stepson look inferior, and Lee for letting him get away with it. He was tempted to remind Dr.­ I’m-a-Bastard-and-I-Don’t-Care-Who-Knows-it-Mitchell Blake that Lee was the youngest commander in the history of the Navy . . . that he’d graduated first in his class at Annapolis and had soared through the ranks with meteoric speed. Further, he was the commander of the most famous and highly advanced submarine in the world, and that anyone else with half a head on his shoulders would realize how remarkable those accomplishments were. Maddeningly, neither Lee nor Mitchell had exchanged a single word all evening. Instead they’d talked around each other, playing a game that had compromised their relationship from the time Lee became an adult.

With a quiet sigh, Chip folded back in his chair and took another swig of coffee. Dessert was almost done, the remains of a fattening chocolate cake still decorating his plate. Usually, his appetite was voracious, but he’d been put off by the whole meal. He could only take so much of watching Lee play the same backseat role to Mitchell he’d played all his life.

“ . . . a dive tomorrow.” 

His thoughts wandered back when he realized Mitchell had made a comment that stopped conversation around the table. 

“Of course the beds won’t be as rich as the coral we expect to find in the Delayian Reef,” Mitchell continued, “But it has the potential to yield a marginal sample. I would think two of Seaview’s divers…”

“No,” Lee cut him off.

Chip glanced to the side, surprised to find Lee’s gaze fixed rigidly on his stepfather.

“The area you’re referring to is riddled with hydrothermal vents,” Lee continued coolly. “I won’t risk my divers on a ‘marginal’ sample. You already suspect the Delayian Reef is plentiful with the protein you’re looking for…”

“Suspect being the operative word,” Mitchell countered, with a long glance down his nose. “If your divers are too cautious, I’m sure our research assistants will be more than happy to…”

“No. I won’t risk my divers or yours, and I won’t take Seaview that close. The area is unstable.”

“I think Captain Crane is right,” Sherman inserted, frowning in Mitchell’s direction. “It’s an unnecessary risk for something that might not pan out.”

“Fine.” Mitchell leaned back in his chair, apparently bored with the whole discussion. “If Lee doesn’t want to risk his precious submarine…”

“Captain,” Lee snapped.

Mitchell blinked, disbelief on his face. “What did you say?”

Even Chip sat straighter.

“Captain,” Lee said again, steel in his voice. “You’re on my boat and will address me accordingly. If you prefer, Commander Crane is acceptable.”

Mitchell stared dumbfounded for a full five seconds before degenerating into a loud snort of laughter. “You don’t seriously expect me to…”

“Mister Morton,” Lee interrupted sharply. “Would you explain the facts of life to Dr. Blake while he is aboard my vessel?”

“Gladly.” Chip fought the giddy smirk that threatened to break over his face. It was about damn time Lee took a stand for himself. He half expected the admiral to interfere, but clearly Nelson had decided to stay out of it. “Captain Crane is in full command of the Seaview, Dr. Blake. That includes dives or any other procedure that might impinge on the safety of the boat or her crew.”

“Admiral?” Sherman shot a bewildered glance to the older man.

“Let it go, Sherman.” Nelson shook his head. “There’s more going on here than meets the eye.”

Mitchell latched onto the statement, his amusement crushed by anger. He glared at Nelson. “Are you telling me my stepson outranks you?”

“Stepson?” Sherman gasped.

Nelson kept his gaze riveted on Mitchell. “A captain at sea has full authority over his vessel, her crew and passengers, Dr. Blake. I suggest you find a way to peacefully co-exist with Captain Crane for the remainder of this voyage, and I highly suggest you use the proper mode of address when speaking to him. Especially if you plan to make a request.”

“Hell.” Disgusted, Mitchell stood and tossed his napkin on the table. “I’ll be in the lab. I could do without the showboating around here.”

Chip ducked his head, hiding a smirk. He shot Lee a glance from the corner of his eye. “I could have done without it the minute he opened his mouth,” he mumbled and was delighted to see his friend grin. 

Maybe the damn cruise wouldn’t be so bad after all.

**********

Chip waited until the group from the Eldridge Foundation had left the observation nose before cornering Lee. If the meal had been any indication of how his friend and Mitchell Blake were going to co-exist during the expedition, they were in for a long cruise. 

He found it rather telling that Sherman Eldridge hadn’t been aware of the relationship between Lee and his senior scientist. Any other man would have mentioned the connection in a heartbeat - -by the way, my stepson just happens to be the captain of the Seaview - - but Blake had clearly avoided addressing it. For a man who liked to appear important, he’d gone out of his way to disassociate himself from the commander of the most renowned submarine in the world. Not for the first time, Chip couldn’t help wonder what it was about Lee that made Mitchell dislike him so much.

Sidestepping the galley crew, who were in the process of clearing the dinner mess away, Chip tagged Lee on the shoulder. “You’re off duty, and I’ve got another hour until my watch. How about a second cup of coffee?”

“How about something 80-proof?”

Chip balked. He knew his friend was only joking, but the snapped reply was blatantly indicative of Lee’s foul mood. 

“Hell, Chip. I can’t even get through dinner with the man,” he complained, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How am I ever going to survive a whole miserable cruise?”

Chip winced. He could almost see the headache forming behind Lee’s eyes. Deciding the first step was to get his friend out of the observation nose and away from the area where they’d just spent a tense evening, he nodded toward the topside stairs. “Let’s take a walk.”

Lee hedged. His eyes swept back to the remnants of dinner, still in the process of being cleared away. It didn’t surprise Chip to see most of Lee’s food remained on his plate. The man was a light eater under normal circumstances, but the strain of the meal had zapped what little appetite he usually possessed.

“You could do with a break.” Chip prodded him in the direction of the spiral staircase. He expected resistance, but surprisingly Lee complied, if a bit grudgingly. Chip followed in his wake, content to let him brood in silence for the time being. At least he’d gotten Lee to agree to the walk. When they neared the officer’s wardroom, his friend continued down the corridor.

“I don’t want any coffee,” Lee muttered. “It’ll keep me up, and I need some sleep.”

Chip frowned, reading between the lines. He’d thought Lee had looked haggard and guessed he’d gotten little sleep the previous night. But was that because of Mitchell’s impending arrival or the still unexplained circumstances that had driven him from the institute reception? 

Again, Chip let it go, a dozen thoughts swirling through his head. It wasn’t until they’d stepped into Lee’s cabin that he chose to be straightforward.

“The admiral never should have taken this assignment,” he grumbled, clicking the door in place.

“Why?” Heaving out an exhausted sigh, Lee walked to his bunk and plopped on his back. “Because of Mitchell? Give me a break, Chip.” He flung an arm over his eyes. “N.I.M.R. isn’t going to pass on a mission just because I’ve got a personal gripe with a member of the research team.”

Chip felt his mouth tighten. Lee looked all of a sulky eighteen, lying sprawled on his back, one leg flung over the side of his rack, bent at the knee. He could remember countless times at Annapolis when he’d wanted to throttle his brooding young roommate. He’d done everything he could to make life miserable for Lee in the beginning, feeling that he’d gotten the short end of the stick. He would have preferred to be paired with someone like Owen Henner or Al Layton, both boisterous, fun-loving and outgoing. Instead, he’d been saddled with an almost-too-young, over-achieving, moody perfectionist named Crane.

It had been the best thing that ever happened to him. It had just taken awhile to figure that out.

“The admiral talked to me about Blake before he told you,” Chip admitted reluctantly. He could still recall how uncomfortable he’d felt when Nelson had called him into his office fifteen minutes before Lee was scheduled to arrive. 

Smoking, pacing, and grumbling beneath his breath, the older man had relayed the change in the Eldridge Foundation’s research team then pointedly asked Chip if he thought Lee could handle it. Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have been as large an issue, but Lee had just gone through the upheaval of having his biological father thrust back into his life, then abruptly ripped away. Chip knew Nelson was worried. Regardless of how stringently admiral and captain stuck to their respective roles on Seaview, there wasn’t a man aboard who didn’t know their relationship far surpassed a working level, Chip foremost among them. Nelson brought the stability and counsel of a father-figure that even at thirty-four, Lee still needed.

Suspicious, Seaview’s captain lifted his arm to peer under his sleeve. “What do you mean he talked to you?”

“Just that, uh . . .” Chip cleared his throat. Uncomfortable, he paced into the room. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like we had some major powwow behind your back. He just wanted my opinion on whether or not I felt you could handle Mitchell being on the boat.”

Something unpleasant flitted through Lee’s amber-jade eyes. He sat up, swinging both legs over the side of the bed. “What did you tell him?”

His voice was a little too quiet, informing Chip his mood bordered on anger. “What do you think I told him? I said you were a professional, and if the old goat ticked you off, you’d just target him like a foreign dictator. I mean, there’s got to be some benefit to all that ONI combat training, right?”

Lee made an unflattering sound, but the quip served its purpose and diffused his anger. “You’re lying through your teeth.”

Chip grinned. “Okay, so I am.” He grabbed a chair from the desk and pulled it closer to the bunk. Spinning it around, he straddled it backward and braced his arms across the top. “So you want to tell me what’s really bothering you - - other than Dr. Doom?”

The hint of a smile touched Lee’s lips. “Who says anything is bothering me?”

“The same guy who’s been able to read you like a Richter scale ever since you walked into Annapolis. You’ve been withdrawn all day, Lee. More than usual, if that’s possible. Normally, I’d chalk it up to Mitchell and his attitude, but my mind keeps wandering back to that woman. What was her name? Mary . . . Maggie?”

“Mae,” Lee corrected.

“All right - - Mae. So when are you going to give me the low-down on what really went on with her?” He could tell by his friend’s reaction that he’d hit a nerve. 

Lee’s lashes dipped, veiling his eyes with dense black thread. “I don’t know what you mean,” he mumbled.

“Cut the crap. You wouldn’t have asked me about her unless she meant something.”

“Maybe.” Lee folded back on his bunk, pillowing one arm behind his head. He stared up at the bulkhead, quiet for a time.

Chip let the silence grow, deciding he’d talk when he was ready.

“I met her in the garden when I left the reception,” Lee said at last. “She was just . . . there. Like she’d always been there. We had this kind of connection . . .”             

Connection. Hell, it was better than he’d thought. “Yeah, I just bet you did.” Chip waggled his eyebrows.

Lee frowned. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“So are you telling me it wasn’t like that?”

“Does everything have to be about sex?”

Chip shrugged, waiting him out. 

Eventually Lee cracked and relented with a sigh. “Okay, so I took her home.”

“And?”

“And . . . she was gone when I woke up.”

Chip gave a low whistle. “It’s not like you to do a one-night stand.”

Lee’s scowl dug deeper. “I never said I wanted it to be over.” Propping himself on an elbow, he turned on his side to face his exec. “I feel like some kind of god-awful lecher, Chip. I never even got her last name. We just . . . I don’t know. Everything felt so right. Before I knew it, we were in bed.”

Chip looked at him steadily. They were exceptionally close, but there were certain things Lee remained tight-lipped about, his love life chief among them. The fact he was discussing it now meant the encounter had been more than a frivolous fling. Chip had no illusion his friend was a saint. Lee had an active, healthy sex life, but he rarely engaged his body without his heart. He’d yet to find the right woman, but Lee Crane wasn’t a man to crave mindless sex or one-night stands.

“Did you tell the admiral?” he asked.

“No. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it, and he respected that enough not to press.”

Chip mused it over. “He might know who she is.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.” A flicker of disquiet raced through Lee’s long-lashed eyes. He bit his lip. “Why do you think she took off without a word?”

Chip couldn’t resist a jibe at his friend’s expense. “Maybe the night wasn’t everything you thought it was cracked up to be.”

“Funny, Morton.” Lee flopped back on his pillow. “You’re just jealous because you didn’t have a beautiful woman occupying your time until dawn.” As soon as the words were past his lips, he gave a long exhale, his voice dropping to a pensive whisper. “All kidding aside, she was something special.”

Chip fought to keep from grinding his teeth. As if Mitchell wasn’t bad enough, he suddenly found himself saddled with a brooding captain mooning for a mysterious girl with no last name. “She knows how to get in touch with you, Lee. If it was as special as you say it was, she’ll be there when you get back.” 

He’d expected their conversation to be light - - the fluff of a possible flirtation on Lee’s part, a passing fancy - - certainly nothing serious, and certainly nothing that involved words like ‘connected’ and ‘special.’ He’d seen Lee infatuated, seen him satisfied in short term relationships and seen him in love. He didn’t want to begin to comprehend where Mae fell into that triad of possibilities.

“I should get a move on.” Shoving from the chair, he stood. “You could probably use some sleep given you were . . . er, um . . . occupied . . . most of last night.”

Lee’s answering grin was as sharp as his own. He swung his legs to the floor, straightening his shirt as he stood. “I think I’ll take a walk. . . get the latest status updates.”

“I thought you were tired?”

“I changed my mind.”

Chip rolled his eyes. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Lee was famous for walking the boat even when he wasn’t on duty, poking his head into every nook and cranny, critical and non-critical, making sure everything ran smoothly. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his crew. On the contrary, he had complete faith in them. In the beginning, it had driven them nuts. They’d never had such a hands-on captain before, and it had taken some adjusting to realize he wasn’t checking up on them. He simply craved - - needed - - that personal level of involvement in all areas of his boat. If there’d ever been a doubt, it was gone now - - Seaview belonged to Lee Crane. True, she was the brainchild of the admiral, and Nelson knew her better than any man alive, but when it came to operations, Seaview was linked foremost to Lee.  

Chip nodded with a resigned sigh. “Okay, but for once, I’d like to give you an order. Stay away from Mitchell while you’re wandering around. Got it, Captain?”

Lee chuckled. “My pleasure, Commander.”

**********

That the next two days proved difficult was putting it mildly. While Dr. Eldridge’s group worked diligently in the lab, Lee did his best to avoid his stepfather. Somehow the incident at dinner leaked to Seaview’s crew, and before he knew it, Lee found himself walking around corners only to have conversations come to an uncomfortable halt. It was bad enough having the crew realize he and Mitchell were related, but their blatant estrangement made that worse.

Private by nature, Lee had done everything he could to keep his personal life free of scrutiny. It felt odd to walk into a room and realize he and Mitchell had been the topic of discussion just seconds before. 

And while he did his part to downplay the whole affair, Mitchell took every opportunity to make his contempt known. If he wasn’t loudly grousing about Lee’s standing orders for guests, he was sticking his nose where it didn’t belong or challenging one of his stepson’s directives for the mere sake of being difficult. It got to the point where Lee realized some of the crew had started to wager on just how much more he was going to take. The bulk of them wanted to throttle Mitchell themselves, miffed by his obvious disdain for their skipper.

He kept his temper through the worst of it, convinced Mitchell was trying to goad him into an outburst, but when they were still a day’s travel from the Delayian Reef, his patience started to crack. His stepfather’s latest escapade had involved interrupting a diagnostics test in the missile room. Lee had walked in just as he was rummaging through diving equipment in search of a breathing regulator. Sharkey had tried to usher him along, all the while listening to Mitchell’s insistence he needed it for a lab experiment. The chief had stepped lightly, fully aware the research scientist was a guest and Lee’s stepfather. 

Once more Lee held his temper. He found the damn regulator, told Mitchell the missile room was off limits then ordered him back to the lab in record time. He was sure the whole thing had been staged solely for his arrival and could have sworn he saw the older man smirk in satisfaction as he left.

The incident, compounded by the last few days, left him in a black mood. He never really shook it until shortly after midnight when he did his usual round of the boat, coming off a late watch. It was almost 0100 when he finished. Rather than retire to his cabin, he headed for the observation nose. 

He knew the watch in the control room would be minimal, the lights in the nose dimmed to a brassy glow. He’d always found it peaceful sitting in the near-dark with only the phosphorescent glimmer of sea life beyond the glass for company. He was looking forward to the solitude and was therefore surprised to find Cadie Eldridge there when he arrived.

Seated in front of the windows, she appeared lost in thought.

“Mrs. Eldridge.” Lee couldn’t keep surprise from his voice. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“It’s late.” She looked up at him, a sad kind of acceptance in her eyes. She had wrapped herself in a woolen shawl though it was far from cold in the dimly-lit nose. Beyond the windows, shifting bands of yellow light sketched a web-like radiance in the water. Every now and then, brightly colored schools of fish or drifting plankton passed within the luminous corridor, the water to either side murky and dark. 

Cadie smiled up at him, but her eyes were tinged with melancholy. “It seems I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep, Captain.”

Lee slid into the chair across from her. “I just finished my watch.”

“And went roaming your ship? But that’s wrong, isn’t it?” This time the smile reached her eyes. “A submarine is called a boat, I believe.”

Lee gave a slight shrug. “Semantics.” 

“Not to you, I’m sure.” She relaxed, resting her head on the back of her chair. Her eyes roamed to the bulkhead on either side then lighted briefly on the decking overhead. “I don’t think there is anything about Seaview that is simple semantics to you. This ship - - boat - -” she corrected, “is at peace when you’re at peace. It’s amazing how tethered she is to your emotions.” 

Lee raised an eyebrow. “She?”

Cadie laughed softly. “Come, Captain. Even you have to be aware that every ship - - every boat - - has a spirit. From the first primitive rafts made of wood to the mighty clipper ships of the past and the steel giants of today, every craft is imbued with a life essence. Some are angry by nature, others protective and serene. There are masculine spirits - - those fierce phantoms that inhabit your behemoth destroyers. And there are immature, child-like spirits that enjoy the frivolity inherent in something as tiny as a skiff or as carefree as a windjammer.”

Lee nodded, not wishing to offend her. He’d heard legends of ships’ spirits, just as he’d heard legends of mermaids, sirens and rusalkas. For as often as he’d encountered the strange and the unusual, at heart he would always remain a skeptic. “And you think Seaview’s spirit is a she?”

“Most definitely. More than that, she’s in love with you.”

Lee choked on a snort of laughter. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Captain. It’s typical of a ship’s spirit to become enamored of her commander. I have no doubt Seaview’s spirit loves the admiral too, but her fondness for him is different. She thinks of him as a daughter would a father. Her affection for you is stronger, like that of a lover. I’ve never felt such a strong bond between a vessel and a commander before . . .” Her voice trailed away, and she looked out the window. “. . . except once.”

Lee stared at her, uncertain if she was ‘touched’ or just lonely for conversation. She was certainly an intelligent woman. Their discussion during dinner several days ago had been interspersed by science, politics and literature. He knew her health wasn’t the best, but he certainly didn’t see that impacting her rationality. It was late and she was obviously tired.   

“Mrs. Eldridge…”

“You must call me Cadie.” Her eyes flashed to his face, blue as the ocean water illuminated in the beam of Seaview’s exterior light. “It’s short for ‘Cadence.’”

“That’s a lovely name.”

“Thank you.” Her lips tipped up in a smile. “You think I’m foolish, don’t you, Captain Crane - - rattling on about sea lore and legends?”

He wet his lips. What could he say to her? Sometimes he did feel his connection to Seaview was as strong as a bond to another human being. There were times when he walked the gangways he could almost feel a presence at his side . . . a touch on his shoulder or a wraith-like whisper of breath across his cheek. It was all fantasy, of course, but to Cadie Eldridge it appeared much more.

“I think you have some interesting theories,” he relented, choosing the safest way out. “But it’s also late, and now isn’t the time to debate them. You and I could both do with some rest.”

“Dear heavens, you sound like Sherman. The man knows no end to fussing over me.”

“I’m sure there’s a reason for it.” Lee stood and offered his hand. “May I escort you to your cabin, Mrs. Eldridge?”

She smiled up at him. “What kind of woman could refuse such a gallant, charming offer?” Standing, she slid her hand into his. “But you must remember to call me Cadie. Or Cadence.”

Lee nodded. “Cadence,” he agreed. “It sounds magical.”

**********

“God, will you stop that already?” Exasperated, Chip shot a baleful glare to the man seated across from him in the wardroom. He’d been attempting to review the latest duty reports over breakfast before beginning his watch in the control room, but Lee Crane was driving him nuts.

His friend had found a rubber band somewhere and was absently snapping it between his fingers, completely disinterested in the mound of scrambled eggs and bacon on his plate as he stared off into space. Chip shook his head, wondering how anyone could go from behaving like an irritating six-year-old to a precisely poised naval commander, but Lee would do it the moment he stepped into the control room. 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play at the table?”

“I’m not playing.” Lee stole a furtive glance over his shoulder to make sure no one else was in the room. He pulled back on the rubber band and sent it pinging off Chip’s shoulder. “That’s playing.” 

Chip shook his head, watching the offending object ricochet to the floor. Outwardly stoic, he indulged in a mental laugh. Lee in a playful mood was a rarity these days. Still, he wasn’t about to drop his haughty criticism so quickly. “You’re a jerk, Captain. If there’s any true justice in the world, Nelson will walk in right now and find his highly- revered commander behaving like a school kid.”

“That’s no way to talk about your CO.”

Chip ignored him. Picking up his fork, he went back to digging into his eggs. “What has you in such a good mood anyway?”

“I’m not sure I am. I’m just edgy.” Lee shoved his tray aside. “One more day, we’ll be at the Delayian Reef. This mission will be half over.”

“Cause for celebration?” Chip guessed.

“You’ve got that right.” Lee shook his head, relenting a bit. “I guess I shouldn’t be so critical. I’ve barely seen Eldridge’s research assistants. They’re always locked away in the lab or their cabins. He seems decent enough, and his wife’s a pleasure.”

Chip nodded. He’d talked to both Sherman Eldridge and Cadie at length and found them to be intelligent, conscientious, and friendly. It was a shame they were stuck with someone like Mitchell on their team. “Do you know they’ll be married thirty-six years next month?”

“Really?” Lee was impressed. “Cadie doesn’t seem that old.”

Chip shrugged. “I guess they met when she was pretty young. It was right after Sherman’s research ship went down in the North Pacific. Sad, really. He was the only survivor. Jon McDevitt told me about it. Said his uncle was one of the crew members. They got caught up in a maelstrom and couldn’t make it back to land. Cadie found Sherman two days later washed up on shore and got him to a hospital. McDevitt said they’ve been inseparable ever since.”

“I had no idea.”

Chip took a swig of coffee before continuing. “McDevitt had a lot of old newspaper clippings he showed me. He’d saved them because of his uncle. I guess the Cadence of the Sea was a pretty big thing in its day.”

Lee glanced at him sharply. “The what?”

“The Cadence of the Sea. That was the name of Sherman’s ship.” Chip frowned and narrowed his eyes, noting his friend had gone from looking intensely interested to shocked. Before he could question Lee further, an alarm claxon blared.

“Fire detail to Lab A,” someone paged over the intercom. Lee’s first guess was Kowalski, but the senior rating sounded uncharacteristically frazzled. 

Lee and Chip were both out of their seats before the second warning bell shrieked through the sub. Lee grabbed the nearest mike and pressed down on the transmit button. “Lab A, report your condition.”

It took only a second for the reply to come back. “Fire uncontained, Sir.” Definitely Kowalski.

“On my way.”

He was out the door with Chip on his heels. Long before they even reached the lab, he could smell smoke. The acrid reek clogged the back of his throat and burned his eyes. By the time they arrived, damage control had the situation mostly in hand. Mitchell and Kowalski were both in the hallway, bent over, hacking on smoke. 

Lee ducked into the room for a quick visual. One of the lab tables was blackened, its surface blistered and charred. A distinctly sulfuric chemical odor hung in the air, mingling with a blue-tinged haze. Pressing a fist to his mouth, Lee choked back a cough and returned to the hallway just as the admiral arrived.

“Kowalski, are you all right?” he slid a hand onto the senior rating’s back.

The younger man nodded, still bent over, hacking into his hand. Finally, he straightened and knuckled smoke from his eyes. Lee could see they were red and aggravated, Kowalski’s face streaked with soot. Mitchell, likewise, had recovered and was in the process of wiping his face with a handkerchief. Behind him, Nelson stepped into the lab to confer with the damage control crew, the fire now completely contained.

“What happened here?” Lee asked.

“I don’t know, Sir.” Kowalski shook his head. “I was just passing by the lab when I heard Dr. Blake yelling about a fire. The table was engulfed by the time I got inside.” He turned his face away, overcome by a short burst of coughing. “I tried to put it out and called for a fire detail.”

“Well?” Lee’s sharp gaze swiveled to his stepfather. “What happened?”

Mitchell made a dismissive sound, still wiping soot from his face. “Nothing critical. I made a small miscalculation with a chemical and the fool thing ignited.”

“Damn it, Mitchell!” Lee felt a lethal prick of anger flare against his temples. “There is no such thing as a non-critical fire on a submarine.”

“Don’t act like it’s the end of the world. It’s not my fault.”

“You’re the one who started the damn blaze,” Lee snapped.

“Captain . . .” Nelson warned quietly, overhearing the argument. He stepped midway through the hatch, one foot in the lab, the other in the corridor. 

Lee ignored him. Agitated, he dragged a hand through his hair. “Chip, surface the sub and scrub the air of smoke.”

“Aye, Sir.” Chip moved down the corridor to locate a mike and give the command.

“How long is that going to take?” Mitchell demanded with a black glare.

Lee fought the urge to bite off a reply. “It depends how much smoke has made its way into the ventilation ducts. The Delayian Reef will have to wait.”

“You’re doing this intentionally,” Mitchell accused. “Playing commander, throwing your weight around . . .”

“Dr. Blake,” Nelson cautioned.

The older man continued as if he hadn’t heard. “If your inept seaman…” He sneered in Kowalski’s direction, “had managed to put the fire out when he arrived, it would have been contained immediately.”

“Sir…” Vocal by nature, Kowalski started to protest, but Lee placed a restraining hand on his arm when he moved to step forward.

“Dr. Blake,” he said coldly, his patience completely gone. “You are fortunate Seaman Kowalski happened to be walking by when he was, or the entire lab might have been engulfed. He is a skilled and highly valued member of this crew, and I will not have you slander him. Especially when your own incompetence is at fault. From this point on, you are not to conduct any experiments without the express consent and prior approval of Admiral Nelson or myself.”

Chip returned just in time to witness Mitchell’s splutter of outrage. “I will not be treated like a first-year lab technician,” he protested. “And I will not be called incompetent by a man for whom I have no respect.”

A moment of stunned silence fell over the group. Even the admiral was at a loss for words.

“Thank you for making that plain,” Lee said. He felt no contempt, only bitterness - - a frigid ice that invaded his veins and made him realize how much he detested his stepfather. He’d been patient, biting his tongue, making allowances for the last three days when he’d really wanted to explode. He was out of rope, his patience gone, and with it any desire for mutual ground. Certainly, Mitchell had made no effort.   

“I don’t give a damn about your opinion of me or your ego, Dr. Blake. If you don’t want to abide by my rules, you leave me no choice. The safety of this crew and vessel is my only priority. Mr. Morton…” Pressing his lips together, Lee shot his exec a steely glance. “You will place Dr. Blake in the brig.”

 

“What?” Mitchell bellowed.

Even Chip faltered. “Lee . . .”

Nelson stepped into the corridor. “Lee, I think confinement to quarters would be…”

“The brig, Mr. Morton,” Lee snapped, speaking over the admiral.

Chip huffed out a breath. “Aye, Sir.” Gripping Mitchell by the elbow, he steered him away from the lab. “Come along, Dr. Blake.”

“You can’t,” Mitchell protested.

“Captain’s orders,” Lee heard Chip mutter as he led the man down the hall. Amazingly, as soon as they turned a corner and were out of sight, Lee felt a tide of tension flow from his body. Kowalski stared at him dumbstruck and Nelson frowned openly, but at least the teeth-grinding aggravation he’d felt in Mitchell’s presence was gone.

“Ski, go to Sick Bay and have Doc check you over,” Lee instructed, his voice sliding back into its customary softer tones.

“Sir?” Still reeling from Lee’s handling of Mitchell, Kowalski could only blink dumbly.

Lee gave him a nudge on the shoulder to propel him along. “Sick Bay, Ski. Get moving.”

“Aye, Sir.” Snapping from his internal daze, he nodded briskly and sprinted down the corridor. 

Lee knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the entire boat learned he’d tossed his stepfather into the brig. He simply didn’t give a damn. “Go ahead, say it.” He cast a glance at the admiral, expecting the worse.

Nelson shook his head. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he started slowly down the corridor. Lee fell in at his side, waiting for the reprimand he knew was coming.

“Why the brig?” Nelson asked at last.

“Because he ticked me off,” Lee snapped. “And because I could.” Why did there always have to be an explanation? “He’s been nothing but trouble since he stepped aboard Seaview and you know it. This last instance with the fire, then trying to shift the blame to Kowalski …”

“No one was buying that, Lee. He was just pushing your buttons.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Then why do you keep playing into his hand?”

“He didn’t expect me to toss him into the brig,” Lee said with grim satisfaction. He was so freaking tired of walking a tightrope with Mitchell on one side and professionalism on the other. The last thing he wanted to do was explain his actions. “Even the crew cringes when he walks into a room. He’s a miserable S.O.B.”

“I grant you that.” Nelson frowned, pausing in the corridor. “Why does he dislike you so much?”

Lee hedged and looked away. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t entirely true. He had suspicions, but they were only that - - suspicions. “Sir, I’m due on watch. I should be in the control room.”

Nelson nodded. “You go on, lad. Maybe we’ll talk about it later.”

“You’re angry at me for overriding your objection?” Lee guessed.

“About the brig?” Nelson’s eyebrows climbed higher, and he chuckled without humor. “I’m not angry, Lee. You are, after all, Seaview’s captain. I just hope you know what you’re doing. I can’t help thinking how this whole incident is going to go over with your mother.”

Lee grimaced. He hadn’t really stopped to consider her reaction. She’d never forgive him for publicly humiliating her husband and having him tossed into the brig. Then again, she certainly wouldn’t condone Mitchell’s actions either.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Lee said. 

Twenty minutes later in the control room, he couldn’t help be aware of Chip’s silent glances as they worked across from one another at the plotting table. His friend hadn’t said a word to him outside of acknowledging orders, but it was obvious he had some definite opinions about what had transpired. 

“Well?” Lee kept his head bowed, marking a course adjustment on the map. “Spit it out.”

Chip didn’t bothering looking up. “Is that an order?”

“I can make it one.”

There was a brief pause before Chip spoke again. “How long do you plan on keeping him there?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Clear blue eyes flashed to his face, the humor behind them biting and sharp. “I’ll say this for you, Lee - - when you crack, it’s worth the price of admission.”

Lee bit away a grin. He guessed that once Chip had gotten past his initial shock, he’d actually enjoyed tossing Mitchell into the brig. And knowing his staunchly loyal friend, Chip had probably made damn sure Mitchell knew that too.

**********

It took several hours to scrub the ship’s ventilation system of smoke, another eight to reach the Delayian Reef. Dr. Eldridge pleaded on behalf of Mitchell, saying he would require the man’s assistance once divers returned with protein samples. As most of the day had dwindled away, Lee finally consented to release him from the brig. He would have liked to have kept him imprisoned overnight but decided his point had been made. 

He had other, more important, matters to occupy his mind. While the area around the Delayian Reef was not usually unstable, they’d experienced several shockwaves from a minor quake occurring a fair distance away. Two dive teams had already gone out and returned. Pouring over the samples they’d brought back to Seaview, Eldridge and his team locked themselves away in Lab B, most of Lab A still too damaged for clinical work. Both Sherman and Mitchell had wanted to send out additional divers, but Lee refused, unwilling to risk more frogmen until he knew the shockwaves were over.

As was his usual custom, he walked the boat that night. He considered seeking out Cadie Eldridge and asking her about the coincidence between her name and Sherman’s original research vessel. For a woman so versed in the mythology of ships’ spirits, it was interesting she shared a name with a sunken vessel. He figured he’d find her in the nose, where she seemed to spend much of her time when she wasn’t resting, staring out the massive herculite windows, enthralled by images of luminescent water and sea life.

He was headed for the nose when he decided to swing by Sick Bay and check on Jamie first. Kowalski had been cleared for duty, but Lee always felt better getting information first hand. He found the doctor looking put-upon and grumbling to himself when he walked into the room.

“What’s the matter, Jamie?”

“Huh? Oh.” Distracted, Dr. Will Jamieson lifted his head long enough to shoot Lee an acknowledging glance. “Evening, Skipper.” Preoccupied, he went back to rummaging through the supplies in his medical cabinet. “Out for an evening stroll?”

Lee grinned easily. “The usual rounds, Jamie. Do I sound like a doctor?”

“Definitely not a frazzled one.”

“And you are?” Lee stepped closer, looking over the older man’s shoulder at the collection of supplies and medicinal objects - - cotton swabs, tongue depressors, gauze bandages, bottles of ethylene oxide, a handful of hypodermic needles, distilled water, and a half dozen other things he couldn’t name. The lab was deserted, not even a corpsman present at the late hour. “What’s the problem, Jamie?”

“Just doing a routine inventory and I seem to missing most of my blood capillary collectors. I know I have them stocked.” Still distracted, he shook his head. “I must have left them in my cabin.” 

Lee grinned, appreciating the doctor’s fastidiousness. “Well, that doesn’t sound like the end of the world, but if you want to get them, I’ll hang around here until you get back.”

Jamie tossed him a surprised glance. “You’ll what?”

Lee shrugged. “I’m not in any hurry to retire for the night, Jamie, and it will give me something to do.” He looked around the shadow-draped room, thankful it was empty. Normally, when he was in Sick Bay, it was to visit an injured crewmember or because he’d suffered some personal mishap. The latter seemed to happen more frequently than either he or Jamie liked. That he took too many risks was a given. That those same hazards often ended in jeopardy was a constant bone of contention for Seaview’s doctor. “It’s kind of novel being here without having you give me orders about what I can and can’t do.”

Jamie raised a critical eyebrow. “Let’s keep it that way, Captain.” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “You really don’t mind hanging around?”

Lee nodded toward the door. “Get out of here, Jamie. I’ll wait.”

The doctor didn’t need to be told twice. With a grin as thanks, he headed into the hallway. Alone, Lee stepped closer to the cabinet, examining the neatly ordered supplies. How many times had Jamie stuck him with a needle or forced antibiotics or a pain-reliever down his throat? He grimaced, thankful that for once, he wasn’t a patient in Sick Bay.

Needing something to do while he waited, he shifted the supplies about, turning the labels so they all faced outward. He took extra care with the ethylene oxide, knowing it was highly flammable. A sterilization product used mostly for gauze, bandages and linens, it grew combustible when ‘excited.’ Lee had never really been comfortable having it aboard the submarine, but there simply wasn’t any substitute.

“Does Jamie know you’re playing around with his supplies?” a familiar voice asked. 

Lee turned to see Chip Morton stride into Sick Bay. He flashed an effortless grin, always glad for a moment away from Command with his friend. “Green-light,” he confirmed. “I sent him to his cabin in search of some blood-collection contraption.”

“Sounds technical. And gory.” Chip strode past him, taking up residence with his back braced against a double rack. Folding his arms across his chest, he eyed Lee skeptically. “Night stroll?”

Lee ignored his smugness. “I was headed to the nose. What’s your excuse?”

“A good antacid. I think I may have had too many helpings of Cookie’s chicken-fried steak with gravy.”

Lee made a face. “One was enough. I’ll be glad when he’s over his experimentation phase.”

Chip snorted through his nose. “As if you eat more than a bird’s portion anyway.”

Lee couldn’t really argue with that. Ever since Annapolis, he’d been amazed by the voracity of Chip’s appetite. If he were a betting man, he’d wager it had something to do with happiness. From the moment he’d first met Chip Morton, Lee had known his friend was content with who he was, confident in his abilities, grateful for the many blessings he had. By contrast, Lee was introspective and moody, often second-guessing his worth - - not so much his abilities, but his value to others. As a child, food was something he consumed to survive. Meals with his stepfather were strained and unpleasant, his mother mostly absent due to her health. It was more common for her to take dinner in her room.

Over the years, he’d come to associate food with ridicule and stress (Mitchell normally choosing the dinner table to humiliate him). He’d eaten the minimal amount necessary to get by. As an adult, he’d tried to change his way of thinking, but by then, his behavioral habits were too deeply ingrained. For the most part, whenever he sat down to a table with food, he still got a tight, queasy feeling in his gut. Appetite lacking, he picked and fiddled with whatever was on his plate, but most of it remained untouched. Jamie was constantly on him about his dietary habits and his weight. If it weren’t for the fact he kept himself in peak condition and physically fit, he was certain Seaview’s CMO would have had him on a strict eating regime - - one that included an excess of calories.

Lee shook his head, grinning at his friend. “One of these days, you’re going to eat too much and balloon into a whale.”

“You’re just jealous because I can down three helpings and not gain an ounce,” Chip countered. “It would be interesting to see what that snooty metabolism of yours did if you actually ate something for a change. How’s it going to look if you take Mae out to dinner and she ends up eating more than you do?”

Lee frowned, disturbed by the casual mention of Mae. He’d tried to avoid thinking about her even though she constantly crowded his thoughts. Alone at night, before he fell asleep, he often relieved their hours of passion, the remembered heat of her body, so strong he literally ached with need. Each time he thought of her, he was overcome by the strange familiarity he should know her - - that he had known her long before he’d taken her to his bed.

He was about to tell Chip to leave it alone when the alarm claxon blared. Almost simultaneously, O’Brien’s voice rang over the intercom:  “All hands brace for shockwave.”

Lee shot a glance at Chip and dove for the nearest mike. The boat heaved before he could reach it, rollicking to the side like a leaf snagged in a gale wind. He lurched under the force, thrown against the glass-fronted cabinet of medical supplies before being bounced across the room into a double bunk. His back struck with a blow that was audible, a kiln-fired javelin of pain streaking through his spine. From the corner of his eye, he saw Chip sprawl against Jamie’s desk. The lights popped and fizzled, plunging the room into darkness. He blinked against the shadow, tossed like a ragdoll, his body flung bonelessly.

He felt glass shatter. The sudden sear of pain in his arm was like a rabid lick of dragon fire. He was vaguely aware of blood against his skin, hot and rain-wet, soaking his sleeve. He heard the hollow crack of glass as it struck the floor; saw a vermillion volley of sparks overhead a mere second before the ethylene oxide exploded. A flash of white left him temporarily blinded and a gluttonous cloud of fire rushed into his lungs.

He would have screamed, but something sharp pierced his side, sucking away his breath. Flesh, muscle and tendon tore like paper. The pain boomeranged to his head in a punishing wave of heat and shock. A second later, the boat lurched again and he was flung to the floor, a limp tangle of arms and legs swallowed by the cold maw of oblivion. 

**********

“Damage control,” Harry snapped. He’d been in the con when the last shockwave struck, worse than the three that preceded it. The sub was still on emergency lighting, several crewmembers scrambling to contain leaks in the framework of the control room. They were dead on the bottom, the bulk of their systems inoperable. “O’Brien,” he barked.

The young lieutenant looked frazzled, but in control. He’d make a fine senior officer one day, given time and experience. 

“Short circuit in the main reactor,” he told Nelson, bracing an arm against the plotting table. His hair dripped water, his shirt splattered with large wet patches. “Flooding in frames 22 through 30. 42 and 43 are practically underwater and Sick Bay is cut off.”

“Sick Bay?” Harry felt a spike of alarm. “Did you reach Dr. Jamieson?”

“We’ve been trying, Sir, but we can’t raise him. It might just be communications are down in that part of the boat.”

“Keep trying,” Harry instructed. With Seaview in the shape she was, they would need the doctor and his inventory of supplies. “What about Captain Crane?”

“We’ll page him now, Sir.”

Harry nodded, listening as the summons bounced across the intercom. Lee had probably been in his cabin, safe from the flooding, Chip too. He thought about Eldridge and his team in the lab and immediately sent a crew to check on them. Five minutes later, O’Brien appeared at his elbow.

“Sir, I can’t raise Captain Crane or Mr. Morton.”

Harry scowled, the first glimmer of misgiving punching a hole through his gut. “What was their last status?”

O’Brien consulted a clipboard. “Captain Crane finished watch at 2200 hours and Mr. Morton immediately after. Patterson said he thought the skipper mentioned doing a circuit of the boat.”

Typical, Harry thought, which meant Lee could be anywhere. “All right. Keep trying to raise both of them, Dr. Jamieson too. Let me know the moment you get any response. I’m going to check frame 42 and see how bad the damage is.”

“Aye, Sir.”

Something cold and ugly slithered into Harry’s stomach. It wasn’t like Lee to be missing when Seaview was in the middle of a crisis. The only way his young commander would remain off the intercom was if he was unable to respond.

And that didn’t bode well for any of them.

**********

Chip woke in a daze.

A dull pain splintered behind his eyes and forked down his jaw. His throat felt blistered and raw, scorched by something acidic. Sick Bay was darker than usual, the garish half-glow splattered across the bulkhead an indication Seaview’s emergency lighting had kicked in. No sound, hum or even the drone of a low-level vibration came from the sub. He could tell by the slight inclination of the deck she was dead on the bottom.

Shockwave.

A bad one by the looks of the damage they’d sustained. With a groan of effort, he pushed to his hands and knees. Almost immediately, dizziness threatened to topple him backward. 

“Steady,” he mumbled, cupping a hand against his forehead, breathing raggedly through his mouth. The room settled, but his stomach churned, agitated to roiling by a putridly sweet odor. It mingled with the heavier taint of sulfur and carbon, the noxious combination catching in the back of his throat. He got one leg under him and shoved clumsily to his feet, bracing a hand against the wall until his vision stabilized. 

Something crunched under his shoes. Dazed, he looked down and to the side. It took a moment to blink away the fog and realize he was standing among a wreck of glass and metal. A moment more to spy Lee Crane half-buried beneath that grotesquely twisted clutter.

“Lee!” Chip nearly stumbled in his haste to reach his friend, his legs rubbery and uncooperative. A black sunburst pattern splayed outward over the decking, dredging awake the freeze-frame memory of an explosion.   

The ethylene oxide. 

It explained his nausea and headache, the reason the lining of his throat felt scorched. And Lee had been right in the middle of it when the damn bottles imploded. 

“Lee.” Carefully, he heaved aside the remains of what had once been a supply cabinet, the doors ruptured outward, curled into sharp metallic tongues. Slivers of glass crunched and popped with each step he took. Lee was face down, one arm flung above his head, the other pinned beneath his body. Lethal-looking shards of glass and bits of steel covered his back, but thankfully, Chip didn’t see any blood.

Until he turned him over.

The breath whistled between his teeth in a sharp hiss as he eased Lee onto his back. His friend’s left arm was saturated, oozing from a deep cut beneath the bicep. A small burn, similar to a shiny red smudge, crested the ridge of his cheekbone and there was a thin nick above his eyebrow.

But the worst was his side.

Chip felt his heart plummet when he saw the gory mess of glass and metal embedded just above Lee’s left hip. His shirt was plastered to his stomach, drenched with blood, the sticky red stain spreading downward over his belt. For one quicksilver second, Chip lost the ability to breathe. 

“Damn it, Lee, don’t do this.” Grimly, he felt for a pulse-point, pressing his fingertips to the carotid artery in Lee’s throat. The faint but steady beat sent fear curdling back into his gut where it settled down to wait, constricted into a savage knot. Desperate, he scrambled for the nearest binding, violently ripping the covering from a bunk. He tore away a thick strip and slid it under Lee’s bicep, fastening it tight, ignoring the slippery feel of blood. The jostling brought a barely-perceptible moan from his patient.

“Lee?” Chip gripped his chin, leaving a red streak where his fingers touched. “Open your eyes for me. Come on, Lee.”

A groan, deeper this time. Lee’s lashes fluttered, a veil of jet dipping against ashen skin. He rolled his head to the side, visibly trying to struggle awake. Chip knew the pain would hit when he did. He cast a quick glance to the hand mike on the wall planning to summon Jamie the moment he knew Lee was coherent. In the back of his mind a niggling worry fought to take shape - - why hadn’t he heard any damage reports over the intercom? With the boat dead in the water there should have been half a dozen pages bouncing back and forth between control and operations, but he’d heard nothing since regaining consciousness.

“Chip?” Lee’s voice came out a hoarse croak. He tried to move and immediately sucked down a hissing breath.

“Stay still.” Chip laid a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. “I can’t tell how bad off you are, but it’s definitely not good. Just stay there while I try to raise Jamie.” Even as he said it, he eyed the ugly wound in Lee’s side - - multiple lacerations. He knew he should get the bleeding stopped but was afraid to apply pressure for the tiny bits of glass, and one particularly lethal-looking shard of metal, still embedded there.

Lee appeared dazed, the pain not yet connecting to his nerves. “What . . . happened?”

“I don’t know.” Chip swiped at his brow, the hammering in his head streaking down the back of his neck. He knew the ethylene oxide was at fault, kindling a ruthless clatter on the inside of his skull. “We got tossed in a shockwave and I think some of the circuitry shorted out. The ethylene oxide exploded.”

Lee closed his eyes as if he hadn’t really heard. Chip saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down in a hard, deliberate swallow. If he had to guess, he’d wager the first vicious spike of pain had just rocketed through Lee’s body.

Hastily, he stumbled to the wall and grabbed the mike. The minute he clicked to transmit, he knew it was dead, communications knocked out. He ground out a curse, his eyes darting toward the door. If he couldn’t raise Jamie over the intercom, he’d just have to hunt the doctor down. Behind him, he heard Lee groan.

One look and he knew it was bad. Lee drew both legs up, bent at the knees, his head tilted back, teeth clamped tightly together. The strain on his face was transparent, proclaiming a physical struggle not to cry out. Blindly, he groped for the gory hole above his hip.

“No.” Chip was at his side in a heartbeat, catching his wrist. “Leave it alone.” 

“I need . . .” Lee ground his teeth. He tried to raise his head to look down on the wound. “Chip . . . what . . .?”

“You’ve got some glass and a piece of metal embedded in your side,” Chip responded, still restraining his hand. “The supply cabinet got ripped to shreds in the explosion and part of it ended up in you. Listen to me, Lee . . .” He spoke sharply, waiting until his friend stopped struggling and fell back against the decking . . . waited for those green-flecked eyes to find his. He hated the pain he saw reflected there . . . the murky haze of agony that told him Lee was only half aware of his surroundings.  

“The intercom’s out. I’ve gotta get Jamie down here. I’m going to find someone to help, but you’ve got to stay put.” He bit his lip, watching as Lee closed his eyes against another buffeting wave of pain. He could feel tension rip through his friend’s body, a harsh contraction of muscle as Lee fought to ride out the crest. “You’ve got to promise me you’re not going to move. That you’re going to leave that damned wound alone.” As he talked, Chip tore off another strip from the bedding. He wadded it into a square and folded it against Lee’s side. Taking his friend’s hand, he laid it over the makeshift compress. “Hold that in place. And whatever you do, don’t move around. Lee, are you listening to me?”

He got a grunt of acknowledgement, followed by a short nod. Lee’s breath grew harsher, more jagged. “How long?”

“That we’ve been down?” Years of friendship and a close working relationship told Chip exactly where Lee was headed. Even hurt, his CO’s mind was in overdrive, trying to assimilate the damage to his boat. “I don’t know. Twenty minutes, maybe. A half hour. I’m not sure how long we were out.” He shot a glance at his watch but between the semi-dark and the pounding in his head, couldn’t decipher the dial.

“I’ve gotta find Jamie. I won’t be long.” He touched Lee lightly on the shoulder then stood. His stomach did a small flip-flop, agitated by his continual up and down motion. He knew it would take awhile for the ethylene oxide to work out of his system. Even now, he felt queasy and light-headed. Thankfully, Lee wasn’t exhibiting any of the side effects from chemical inhalation. He only prayed it would stay that way. 

Lee looked away again, his eyelids drooping as pain pushed him toward the brink of exhaustion. With any luck, he would stay frozen in that position of non-movement until Chip returned. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. He was out the door and into the gangway before he had time to focus on how desperate the situation was. 

All he needed was help . . . any crewmember to run and fetch Jamie. He tried the mike outside the door, but it had been fried too. Walking as quickly as he could, he made it to the end of the hall and moved to un-dog the hatch. He knew before he spun the wheel it was hopeless. He could hear a furious gush of water thrumming on the other side. The section would have already been sealed further back along the frame to prevent flooding. Desperate, he took a chance and pushed open the hatch. Water blasted into the hallway with a loud volcanic roar, lifting him in the air and tossing him backward like a rag doll. He hit the deck and pivoted to the side, pushed along as if caught in a strong riptide. Slipping on the wet flooring, he scrambled back to his feet, gasping for air as he ducked beneath the spray. Somehow he managed to wrench the hatch in place and seal it shut.

Dripping wet, he stood in the sudden silence, his heart thudding in his chest. Adrenalin gave way to shock and cold. He shivered, panting for breath, exhaustion replacing intensity now that he wasn’t fighting for his life. As much as he needed the moment to recoup, he didn’t have the luxury of time.    

Shoving aside his own discomfort, Chip sprinted in the opposite direction. He found the same mess of water and flooding at the next compartment. A cold sense of dread left him swallowing back fear.

Sick Bay was effectively sealed off from the rest of Seaview, and Lee Crane was in critical shape.

**********

Chip said to leave the damn thing alone, but he couldn’t. Not when it felt like a hot poker gored a hole through his side. 

Lee applied pressure to the wound but that only made it worse, doubling him over with a crackling surge of witch-fire. He was hot one minute, cold the next, always a step shy of spewing his guts. Using his good arm to leverage upright, he braced an elbow against the floor. The room seesawed, sending the walls curving inward like an image trapped in a funhouse mirror. It amplified the flirty edge of nausea pushing at the back of his throat.   

He ducked his head, breathing rapidly through his mouth as he waited for the dizziness to pass. Eventually, the room settled into something solid and familiar, the dim glow of emergency lighting scrolling shadows into the corners. Something sharp pierced below his ribs, and he bit his lip to stifle a cry. 

He glanced downward, vaguely aware his hands were covered in blood. He’d already tossed the compress aside and had clawed several slivers of glass from the laceration, but a sharp piece of metal remained folded beneath his skin. Unable to tolerate it any longer, he wrapped his hand around the slippery, blood-soaked steel and pulled, grinding his teeth to keep from blacking out. It blundered free in a sticky deluge of red. The pain jerked him upright like a marionette on a string, so severe he cried out in shock.

The room swam, spinning into an angry maelstrom that sent him plunging over the edge. Seconds later, he blinked awake. Disoriented, he stared up at the ceiling, his side awash in flame.

“Chip . . .” 

How long had his friend been gone? He felt sick to the stomach, his head pounding, the room a constant pitch of undulating motion. 

With effort, he pushed upright. Holding his wounded arm close to his side, he used his right to walk himself backward, shoving with his feet. A bright smear of crimson trailed in his wake, adding to the twisted chaos in the center of the room. It looked like something from a cheap horror movie - - a splatter of metal, glass and blood. Exhausted, he crumpled against the nearest bunk, still sitting on the floor.

Blood pooled into his lap, sticky and warm. He knew he should have held onto the damn compress . . . should have left the god-awful piece of metal stuck in his side. It was a stupid thing to do with an impaling wound, but it had been agony having that foreign object wedged in his gut. The pain wasn’t quite as bad with it gone, but the gush of blood was alarming.   

Chip was going to chew his head off. He knew he had to stem the flow but his hands trembled, clumsy and useless. He felt himself slipping toward unconsciousness, his vision growing fuzzy at the edges. From somewhere far away came the sound of a door and the distant crunch of glass. It reminded him of stone . . . a dirt lane on a hot summer day, the pop of gravel beneath heated rubber tires. For one blissful minute he went to that place, an oasis free of pain and confusion. He thought he saw a woman standing on the roadside, curling white hair flowing down her back, her aquamarine eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Water glinted behind her on the horizon, a band of cobalt tipped with robin’s egg blue and flashes of pearl.

“Mae.” He wanted to fold her in his arms, to drown himself in the remembered feel of her body beneath his and the silken heat of their lovemaking.

Just as quickly, the vision faded and he found himself tumbled back to stark reality. A hand touched his face, urging his head up. 

“Lee?”

Pain slammed into him, and he groaned.

“Damn it, what the hell did you do?” Chip spat angrily.

Lee knew it was fear that drove his emotion. If Chip was snarling at him when he was hurt, it meant his friend had worked himself into a rampant knot of worry. Absently, he noted Chip’s clothing was wet, his shirt plastered to his chest. Flooding, somewhere close by. “Did you . . . get Jamie?” he managed. 

“No.” Chip grimaced. He gave a disgusted shake of his head, his glance frantic as he took in Lee’s blood-drenched side. “You pulled it out, didn’t you? You couldn’t leave the freaking thing alone for all of ten minutes.” Agitated, he wrenched away and started to rummage through the wreckage scattered over the floor, looking for something to clot the blood. Rage made him violent. A box went sailing, bounced against the door from a hard kick. “Damn it, Lee. Don’t you realize how stupid that was?” He ripped open several more cartons, all tossed pell-mell in the explosion.

Lee watched in a daze, his mind and body fading. Chip’s anger should have alarmed him, but he simply didn’t have the energy to react. Yeah, he’d done something chancy and was losing too much blood, but at least he wasn’t drowning in pain any longer. He was simply drowning.

Chip returned to his side, clutching a roll of bandages. “Lee, stay with me.” No anger now, only worry, his voice soft. 

He blinked groggily, trying to focus.

“That’s good.” Chip wadded a thick square of gauze against his side, pressing hard.

The pain went through him like a butcher knife. “Ughnngod . . .”

“I know it hurts, but I’ve got to stop the bleeding. I want to get you on the bunk. Think you can stand if I help?”

He nodded, not exactly certain what he was agreeing to but knowing Chip would take care of him. Hadn’t Chip always taken care of him? His friend pulled him upright, and he swayed, the room somersaulting into a sickening kaleidoscope of color and motion. He fumbled blindly for the bunk and felt himself guided onto the mattress. The cushioning softness against his bruised back was comforting enough to make him groan in appreciation. 

Chip hooked him behind the knees and lifted his legs onto the bed. Automatically, his hands went to the wound, clutching the new compress in place. He raised his knees, easing the pull on the gory laceration, his breath wheezing through his teeth. Chip pressed a palm to his forehead.

“You’re spiking a fever, Lee. I’m going to get something to bring it down . . . see if I can hunt up a narcotic for the pain too. Jamie’s got to have some pills around here; I don’t care if I have to bust a lock to get to them.” He hesitated, staring down on his friend. “Once we get the bleeding stopped, I’ll clean up that wound and then go for help.”

Lee wet his lips. “What’d you find in the corridor?” It was almost impossible to talk, his voice a pale thread of its normal strength. His whole body felt bathed in fire, spreading outward from the molten knot in his side.

Chip heaved out a sigh. “It’s not good. We’re sealed off at both ends by flooding, and the mike in the hall is fried. I might be able to get out through that.” He nodded toward the ventilation duct.

Wearily, Lee followed his gaze. “. . . flooded . . .” If the frames were cut off, the duct probably was too.

“Maybe.” Chip frowned. “Let me worry about that. Just keep that compress against your side and don’t move.” He smiled sharply. “Got that, Captain?”

Lee nodded, the trace of a smile flirting around his lips. He was vaguely aware of Chip moving away and heard him rummaging around in the background.

“How’s your head?” His friend asked.

“Hurts. So does my throat.”

“That’s the ethylene oxide. What about your stomach?”

Lee swallowed not wanting to think about it. The small swells of nausea were getting worse. “Nothing major.” Uncomfortable, he shifted. It was hard to concentrate, much harder to string his thoughts into a remotely sensible order. He could feel himself drifting off again and thought about that gravel lane baking in the hot summer sun. His eyes drooped. He wasn’t sure how much time passed but felt a light touch against his cheek. 

“Lee?”

He didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to focus. Just wanted to go to that place where Mae waited. He remembered the taste of her lips like warm honey, the curves of her body lush satin to his steel.  

“Open your eyes,” Chip ordered.

Reluctantly, he obeyed. His friend watched him with a clear blue gaze, the emotion he saw there almost tangible. It made him realize how fortunate he was to have Chip in his life. 

“Here . . .” The exec held out a plastic cup of water and a handful of pills. “Ibuprofen for fever and something I can’t pronounce for the pain.” He slipped a hand behind Lee’s shoulders, easing him upright. “Just swallow, okay?”

Lee nodded, doing as instructed. Chip tipped the cup to his lips, and he swallowed the pills obediently. Exhausted, he sagged back against the bed.

“I’m going to get some stuff together . . . take care of that wound now,” Chip told him.

Lee murmured consent though he really had no idea what he was agreeing to. If he didn’t move, if he didn’t flinch, the pain was almost manageable now that his side was no longer impaled by metal. Once more he started to drift, only vaguely aware of Chip’s rustling movements in the background. He could almost feel the sun on his face, the cooling kiss of sea air skimming through his raven curls. Mae was there, smiling at him, stepping closer, her hands reaching out to touch him . . .

And then the vision shattered, rupturing into agony and blood.

Pain returned, sharper this time and, with it, the blunt edge of nausea.

He moaned aloud.

“Take it easy.” 

Chip’s voice wormed into his mind, reawakening the ugly reality of Sick Bay. The bitter smell of blood made his head spin, the scratchy feel of his shirt plastered to his stomach, aggravating flesh already rubbed raw. His left trouser leg was drenched, gummed to his hip and thigh. He twisted on the bed, restless with fever.

“Lee, I need you to stay still.”

 

Chip’s hand settled on his shoulder, but he’d moved past reasoning into pure reaction. He just wanted the pain to go away, the damn nausea to die a violent death. It was hard to stay still with his body bathed in fire. He squirmed, agitated.

“Commander Crane, I said stay still.” 

The voice was sharper now, the edge of authority unmistakable. He responded to it by instinct, stilling without thought, biting back the pain when he wanted to scream. A tangle of blackness slithered from his mind and he blinked himself back to coherency. “Chip.”

His friend sat in a chair drawn close to the bedside, two basins and several neatly stacked linens occupying the top of a rollaway table positioned nearby. One basin was filled to the brim with water, the other empty.   

“You went away there for awhile,” Chip said with a smile. He plucked at Lee’s shirt, opening the buttons. “Good news - - the bleeding’s stopped. Now we just need to keep that wound clear of infection until Jamie gets here.”

Lee lowered his eyes, looking down on the gruesome thing. He didn’t remember releasing the compress, but it was gone now, his shirt stained the rusty copper of drying blood. Chip freed the buttons on his shirt then reached for his belt buckle. 

“I can do it.” Lee popped the clasp, opening the button on his pants and easing his zipper down far enough to pull his shirt free. Bits of dried blood flaked from his fingertips. He tugged, but the material stuck fast, gummed to his skin. A snake-kiss of pain slithered outward from the wound, and he sucked in a sharp reactionary breath.

“Don’t rip the clots,” Chip said quickly. He dunked a cloth in the basin then wrung the excess water free. Carefully, he slid the sodden mass under Lee’s waistband. “Give it a chance to loosen the material. You don’t want to start bleeding again.” Biting his lip, he shook his head. “God, Lee, Jamie’s going to hit the roof when he sees what you’ve done to yourself this time.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“I know that, but it doesn’t change the fact you’re still his number one worry.” Chip parted with a soft snort. “Mine too, when I think about it.” He bent closer, lightly running his fingers over the bandage on Lee’s arm. It too had stiffened with blood, the once white material now a dark, crusted cherry. “Is this bothering you?”

Lee shook his head. “My back hurts,” he admitted. “I . . . got slammed into the bunk when the shockwave hit. I’m tired. I just want to sleep, Chip.”

“Okay.” Chip lifted the wet cloth, dropping it into the empty basin where it promptly oozed a sickly puddle of red. “I’ll get this cleaned up, and then you can rest.”

Lee’s eyelids were already drooping. He grunted when he felt Chip tug gently at his shirt. His friend folded back the waistband of his pants, easing the blood-stiffened material free. It pulled on the inflamed skin surrounding the wound and Lee moaned softly. He tried to jerk away but Chip clamped a hand around his wrist, holding him in place. Several seconds passed before he felt something wet and lukewarm settle against the jagged hole in his side.

He shivered.

It took a minute for the pain to register. Shaken, he hissed in a breath.

“Easy,” Chip coaxed. “I just need to get it clean.”

Lee tensed, watching through slitted lashes as Chip washed the wound free of blood. The narcotic had yet to kick in, and each touch of his friend’s fingers - - no matter how careful or gentle - - had him swallowing back pain. By the time Chip was finished, the basin of water had turned a ruddy scarlet, and Lee was trembling with fatigue. He sagged into the pillow, wanting desperately to sleep.  

“That’s enough,” he mumbled. Cold, he curled onto his good side, drawing his knees closer to his chest. Chip left him go, disappearing to rummage among the debris from the supply cabinet. Before Lee had a chance to appreciate the solitude, the blond-haired man was back, a wet square of gauze in his hand. Lee caught the strong sent of an antiseptic and tensed. He rolled onto his back, noting Chip’s expression had turned grim.   

“This is going to burn,” his friend warned. “I promise I’ll make it quick.”

Too tired to argue, Lee gave a ragged exhale and nodded. He knew infection was a very real possibility. The wound needed to be treated no matter how badly the damn thing was going to hurt.

“Just get it over with,” he grunted, digging his fingers into the mattress.

Chip laid the antiseptic-soaked cloth over the wound, pressing to wipe the area free of any residual blood or secretion. Immediately, kiln-hot pain licked through Lee, chased by a savage burst of dragon-fire. He threw his head back, choking out a strangled cry, fisting his hands around the sheets.

“Okay, it’s over . . . I promise.” Chip pulled the cloth away, and the pain plummeted from torture to a lesser form of agony.  

Lee turned his face away, burrowing into the pillow, his chest heaving as he fought to control his breathing. He felt Chip’s fingers against his hair.

“Lee? I know it hurts like hell, but I still have to bind it, then you can sleep. I’ll leave your arm alone for now. I just want to get that thing in your side wrapped.”

He nodded, his face still buried in the pillow. Yes, get the damn thing over with. He was so tired of the pain, the sour reek of blood and sweat. He made his body uncoil despite the throbbing pulse in his side. Chip settled down with bandages and white surgical tape, his expression strained as he went about the task. Lee started to drift when the pain faded to a dull ache.

“Chip,” he whispered.

His friend glanced up. “What is it?”

But he never answered, already called to that other place of gravel, water and sunlight where Mae waited and pain had no power.

**********

Harry remained in the flooded section long enough to make sure the damage control teams were shoring up the weakened frames and the affected compartments had been sealed off. They were fortunate to have suffered only minor injuries among the crew, a few bumps and scrapes but nothing serious. Dr. Eldridge’s team had come out of it unscathed, but he’d heard rumors the bulk of the protein samples had been compromised. 

It was the least of his worries at the moment.

He headed back to the control room, detouring long enough to check Lee’s quarters and Chip’s quarters. Finding both empty, he assured himself his captain and exec were probably just in another area of the boat. Several sections had suffered communications loss. Sooner or later, Lee would check in at the control room.

Most of the order had been restored by the time he made it back to the con. Poised and capable, even under pressure, the watch team had already sealed off several minor leaks. Harry could have easily believed nothing was wrong if not for the half-glow of emergency lighting and one or two station panels that were still pulled apart.

He found Will Jamieson at the plotting table with O’Brien as he entered.

“. . . has to be some way to reach them,” the doctor was saying, his expression severe.

“Sir, those compartments are sealed tight,” O’Brien returned. “Sick Bay itself might be flooded.”

“What’s the problem, Jamie?” Harry asked, stepping to the table.

“Oh . . . Admiral.” Looking frazzled, Jamie ran nervous fingers over his thinning hair. “I was just telling O’Brien that Lee was in Sick Bay before the shockwave hit. I needed something from my cabin, and he promised to wait there until I got back.”

Fully aware Sick Bay was cut off from the rest of the boat by flooding, Harry frowned. Refusing to think the worst, he addressed the younger officer. “Mr. O’Brien, have you been able to locate Captain Crane?”

“No, Sir.” It was obvious he didn’t want to admit it, also obvious he had no other choice. “Sir . . . I think Mr. Morton might be in Sick Bay too. Riley overheard him talking about heading there when he got off watch. Something about needing a stomach antacid.”

“Well, that’s just great . . . the captain and the executive officer cut off from the rest of the boat.” Frustrated, he shook his head. “O’Brien, see if you can get a man through the ventilation duct. Odds are they’re fine down there, but let’s make an effort to get them out.”

“Aye, Sir.”

As O’Brien moved away, Will stepped to his side and lowered his voice. “Admiral. I don’t want to be a naysayer, but if they were really fine down there, don’t you think they would have made contact with us by now?”

Harry grimaced and looked away. It was something that had been in the back of his mind too, but he preferred not to address it. “Let’s think positively, Doctor,” he replied. 

There was really little else they could do.

**********

Lee stood on the roadside, watching the lazy glint of sunlight flash on the water below. Not ocean, but a bay, the shore a blend of marsh and sand. Sea oats, pondweed and slivers of eelgrass bent gracefully in a light easterly breeze. At the water’s edge, a snowy egret skimmed for insects, dipping a needle-thin bill beneath the lap of gently rolling waves.

The air smelled of marsh and brine, nutrient rich with loam and sand. It wasn’t unpleasant as much as pungent, a reminder of the vast sea he loved so dearly. With a start, he realized he was dressed in jeans, the soft denim bleached a faded blue-white, the kind that results from too many washings. He wore a black shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, the sleeves rolled loosely on his arms, tails untucked and hanging loose over his belt.  

No pain, no blood. No naval khaki.

The breeze on his face was warm, scented with the tang of saltwater. He had no idea how he could be standing by the narrow gravel road when he’d been lying in Sick Bay just moments before, a hole ripped through his side. 

I’m dreaming, that must be it.

But it was a pleasant dream, full of sunlight and water. 

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Lee turned at the sound of the woman’s voice. She looked exactly as he remembered, that excessively pale hair almost silver-white, her eyes the electric blue of sun-kissed water. He held out his hand, uncaring how she came to be there, only that she was. Her fingers twined with his, and she stepped nearer, close enough that he could smell the exotic mix of sea and wind in her hair.

“Why did you leave the other morning?”

“I couldn’t stay.” She slid her hands onto his shoulders, one finger lightly skimming the edge of his collar. “I want to help you, Lee, but I’m limited in what I can do. At least here there is no pain.”

He shook his head, not sure he followed. The sun was bright, the breeze a gentle caress, yet somewhere in the back of his mind lurked a memory of fever, blood and pain. “Am I dreaming?” he asked.

“Of a sort.” She smiled, sapphire and moonstone dancing in her eyes. “But it’s a pleasant dream, isn’t it?”

He gripped her waist. “Amazingly pleasant.” He’d forgotten how slender she was, how perfectly her body fit when melded to his. She leaned into him, and he ducked his head, slanting his mouth over hers. She tasted of sunlight, cool ocean and wind-streaked skies - - impossible things that made his head spin. He fisted a hand in her hair, holding her in place, deepening the kiss until he left them both breathless. When he drew back, he saw her eyes had changed again, smoky and dark like the North Sea at dawn. Trembling, she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Do you think it’s possible to love someone so strongly in so short a time?” she whispered.

He kissed her brow. “I think anything is possible.” Normally, he would have balked to be cornered by a woman, but the same emotional tug he’d felt the first time he’d seen her closed over his heart. Was he in love?

He nuzzled her ear, a strange sense of familiarity flirting on the edge of his mind. Why did he think they were connected, that he should know her from before? He cupped her waist then let his hand follow the tantalizing curve of her body upward. She was wearing some kind of slinky sundress held together by two delicate straps and a few buttons. He could have it puddled at her feet in seconds.

He tipped her chin up and kissed her, feeling his body react to that need. “I want to make love to you.” God, if he wasn’t acting like a damn lecher again. What was he going to do - - bed her in the grass like some hormone-driven vagrant? 

But it wasn’t like that. He wanted love, not sex. He wanted to feel her beneath him, her passion twining with his to join bodies and hearts together. He traced his fingertips over her lips, watching the bow of her mouth quiver beneath his touch. His smile was fast and blinding. “I think you’ve bewitched me.”

Her eyes dipped, her mood abruptly solemn. “That’s not permitted.” She shook her head, and her hair tumbled over her shoulders, veiling her face. “I’m not real, Lee. Surely you’ve realized I’m only a spirit.”

“Don’t talk like that. Of course you’re real.” But even as he made the protest, something inexplicable twinged deep in his gut. He could touch her, hold her in his arms and kiss her. He’d made love to her, emptied himself inside of her, then held her as they’d slept nestled together.

And he’d fallen in love with her.

Of course she was real.

He took her hand and led her away from the road . . . down to where the water was hemmed in by beds of sun-warmed grass and soft sand. The breeze frolicked around them, bending spindly stalks of sea oats to the shoreline and kindling threads of white on the water. Lee drew her down on the grass and wrapped her in his arms. 

It wasn’t real, it was just a dream. Somehow he knew he was still on Seaview, sick with fever, but it felt real, and he wanted her as he’d never wanted another woman in his life. He no longer cared who or what she was, just that they were together.

She gazed up at him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her hair a wild white veil on the bottle-green grass. “Do you know who I am, Lee?”

He kissed her cheek and her brow. “The woman I’ve fallen in love with.” Raised above her, he bent and brushed his lips against hers. It took only a second for her to respond, a second more for her to grow yielding and eager in his arms.  

Somewhere overhead he heard the piercing cry of a gull. 

And then he heard nothing . . . just the beat of his heart joined in perfect harmony with hers.

The way it had always been.

**********

Chip paced.

Back and forth, back and forth, feeling trapped as he’d never been trapped in his life. Lee had been sleeping for close to two hours now, and although that sleep was occasionally restless, punctuated now and again by a barely audible moan, at least it was healing. Or so Chip hoped.

He hadn’t gotten far using the ventilation duct, hitting flooding at the first elbow. He’d heard voices in the next frame and yelled until his voice was hoarse but hadn’t been able to make contact through the thunderous tumult of water.

Eventually, he’d returned to Sick Bay, wet and shivering.

To occupy himself, he’d cleaned up the mess on the floor, haphazardly stacking supplies, boxes and cartons on Jamie’s desk. The remains of the supply cabinet got dumped in a corner. He fished a broom from the janitorial closet and swept the glass into a dustpan. By then his head felt like it wanted to explode, his stomach still roiling from the aftereffects of the ethylene oxide.

Lee’s blood was all over the decking, most of it dried into hideous brown streaks. He found a mop and a bucket and scrubbed until he had it clean. The task left him white-faced and trembling, his gut churning with acid. Too much blood, all of it Lee’s. He even had it splattered over his shirt, ringed deep in the beds of his fingernails. 

He went into the head and doused his face with cold water, but it only made the pain splinter behind his eyes. He stood, head bowed, arms braced against the sink, swallowing back the bitter tang of bile. 

Trapped.

He’d done what he could for Lee, but the medication didn’t seem to be doing anything for his fever. And realistically, the pain was going to kick in like a bitch once his friend recovered consciousness. Chip held no illusions about his doctoring skills, they were minimal at best, and who knew what kind of damage Lee had done when he’d ripped that piece of metal from his side? 

He dragged a hand over his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

Think, Morton!

There had to be another way to reach help. Odds were the crew was already looking for him and Lee, realizing they were missing. Hopefully, someone had made the connection they were in Sick Bay. He knew damage control crews would be working to shore up and pump out the flooded frames. If nothing else, it was just a matter of time until…

His thoughts shattered, cast aside by a deep-throated groan from the other room. Forgetting his own discomfort, he sprinted to his friend’s bedside.

“Lee?”     

The captain twisted, only half-coherent. Heat radiated from his body, his skin hot and papery to the touch. Sweat glistened in the hollow of his throat and left a sticky sheen clinging to his chest. Chip pushed the folds of his shirt back, noting the dressing over the wound had grown damp with blood and a clear secretion. No pus, thank God. It was expected it would bleed a bit, especially as Lee shifted.

He moaned again and a sliver of amber appeared beneath his lashes. 

Chip held his breath, waiting for him to focus.

“She’s . . . gone,” Lee said vacantly, his gaze as empty as his voice. He closed his eyes tightly and turned his head away, one long-fingered hand cupping the wound protectively as pain bulleted through him. “God, Chip, it hurts,” he muttered.

Chip swore softly. It was too soon for more pain medication, though he was sorely tempted. Instead, he left and came back with a cup of cold water. “Here, drink this. It’ll help with the fever.” He slid an arm behind Lee’s shoulders, lifting him so he could swallow a few greedy mouthfuls. “Better?” he asked.

Lee gave a grunt, sagging back against the pillows. The sheets were damp with perspiration, and despite the heat pouring from his body, he shivered. He felt Chip’s hands on his shoes, undoing the laces. “What . . . what time is it?” 

“Late,” Chip supplied. He tugged off Lee’s shoes, dropping them on the floor. “I really should look at that cut on your arm. And I can help you out of that shirt. You’ll be more comfortable.”

“No.” The last thing he wanted was to be jostled about. Yeah, the gash on his arm felt like a stitch of fire, but he didn’t want Chip prodding at it. Part of him was still in that other place with Mae, remembering a very different kind of heat. He could feel the cool satin of her flesh, the enveloping pulse of sunlight against his bare skin, still taste the honeyed wine of her lips.

Do you know who I am, Lee?

Agitated, he writhed on the bed. Something cool and wet slid across his brow, tamping back the hot spike of fever. He blinked away the haze and realized Chip was sitting beside him, a basin of water in his lap. His friend pressed a damp cloth to his forehead, then slid it lower over his face and neck. 

The air sucked beads of moisture from Lee’s skin. He felt water trickle from his temple and slide into his hair. Chip dunked the cloth a second time, gliding it across his chest. The cool, damp touch was pure bliss. Lee closed his eyes, unable to stop a soft moan.

Do you know who I am?

He refused to think about it. All that mattered was that he loved her, that he would never stop loving her. He wet his lips, forcing his mind to settle on something concrete. “Status update,” he ordered hoarsely.

Chip offered a tight smile. “I think you’re a little incapacitated at the moment, Captain. Why don’t you let me worry about our dilemma?”

“Mr. Morton…”

“Aye, Sir.” Chip’s grin grew affectionate, but there was aggravation in it too. “No different than before. The ventilation duct is flooded at the first elbow. I heard some work crews in another compartment but couldn’t raise them.” He plopped the cloth back into the basin. “On the plus side, they’re working to shore up the damaged frames. It’s just a matter of time until they can pump them out and someone reaches us.”

Lee nodded. Even sick, he couldn’t let go of command. His mind was muddled by pain, but he tried to run through what he’d be doing at this moment if he were in the control room. With communications spotty, down in certain areas, the work crews would rely on two-ways. “Chip . . .  Jamie’s desk. See if he still keeps that two-way handset there.” 

It was a long shot, but it was worth the risk. Several months ago, communications had gone down for several hours. Afterward, Jamie had insisted on a back-up in the event he was elsewhere on the boat and wanted to reach a corpsman in Sick Bay. The admiral had bought him a two-way handset, and he’d deposited one receiver in his desk, the other in his cabin. Since then there’d been no need to use the connecting units, and they’d been forgotten. Odds were, they’d lost their charge and probably wouldn’t function. Even if they did, someone had to be at the other end for them to do any good.

“Don’t know why I didn’t think of that,” Chip said, shoving from his chair.

Lee grinned faintly. “My guess is you were preoccupied.” 

Seconds later, Chip was back at his bedside. “Look what I found.” He lifted the walkie-talkie for Lee to see and turned the dial. A crackle of static burst from the receiver. “Works.” He grinned triumphantly, making an adjustment to squelch the noise. “Jamie, this is Morton, come in.”

Lee held his breath. As long as someone was there to receive on the other end, they might just have found a solution after all.

**********

Despite not having access to Sick Bay, Jamie was kept busy treating minor contusions and bruises of several crew members, as well as one near-drowning incident. Fortunately, most of the main operation centers of the boat had individual first aid kits he was able to utilize. Sometime after midnight he detoured to the wardroom for a cup of coffee, counting on the caffeine to keep him awake until dawn if necessary. Afterward, he headed to his cabin in search of any excess medical supplies that might come in handy.

He was rummaging around in the closet when he heard the squelch of the two-way handset in his desk. Cursing the fact he’d forgotten about it - - it had been several months without use since he’d originally tucked it away - - he wrenched open the bottom drawer.

“Jamie, this is Morton, come in.” A burst of static followed the pronouncement, the crackling interference igniting a surge of pure bliss. Contact!

 

Feeling like he’d stumbled onto a goldmine, Jamie pressed down on the transmit button. “Chip. Jamieson, here. Thank God these things are still working. Good thinking remembering I had one stored in my desk. Over.”

“It wasn’t me,” the reply came back. “Lee’s the one who thought of it. Over.”

“We’ve been trying to reach you. We figured you were both stranded in Sick Bay. The admiral has crews working double time. Everything okay at your end?”

There was a minor pause during which Jamie’s elation dimmed. It plummeted even further when Chip came back on the radio.

“Negative. We had an explosion down here. The ethylene oxide blew apart the supply cabinet. I’m fine, but Lee’s in bad shape. I’ve done what I can for him, but it’s not good.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” the doctor said quickly. He listened patiently while Chip cataloged what had happened, including an overview of Lee’s injuries and current condition. Jamie’s gut tightened with each word, a creeping sensation of doom washing away any feeling of victory he’d had just moments before. The injuries were ominous enough, but the fact Lee had pulled the metal from his side and might have caused further damage was downright foreboding. 

“You need to get his fever down,” Jamie relayed as concisely as he could. “Stay consistent with the ibuprofen, it’s his best defense. No aspirin. Not with the blood he’s lost and those wounds. Use lukewarm water for a sponge bath. Try to keep him comfortable and hydrated. He can have another dose of the pain medication now if he needs it, even though it’s not time. And what about that arm wound? Over.”

“He doesn’t want me to bother with it.”

“I don’t care what the hell he wants,” Jamie snapped. “It’s a prime source for infection. Get the damned thing cleaned. With any luck, we’ll have you both out of there in a few hours. Are you feeling any side effects from the ethylene oxide?”

Chip paused. “Headaches for both of us. Sore throats. Some nausea, but it comes and goes.”

“Hopefully, you didn’t ingest much.” Jamie didn’t want to think about the possibility of Lee being physically ill when he already had a hole ripped in his gut. Any additional strain was likely to tear the rupture further and cause more bleeding. The captain had already lost too much blood.

“Take what you need to stay functioning, Chip. There are some liquid antacids and anti-nausea medications in the small cabinet to the right of my desk. I wouldn’t recommend giving any to Lee with the other meds you’re feeding him. I’m afraid he might not be able to keep it all down, and as long as he’s holding the nausea in check right now, the ibuprofen and pain tablets are more important.”  

“Understood. I’m not a doctor, Jamie. Stay in contact, huh? Over.”

“You’re doing fine, and I’ll have the handset with me at all times. I’m going to report to the admiral and let him know your condition. I’ll check back on your progress. Call if you need anything.”

“Will do. Morton, out.”

Jamie stood in the silence, his hand wrapped around the walkie-talkie, his knuckles bleached white. Why was it never simple? They’d been fairly certain Lee and Chip were stranded in Sick Bay but hadn’t anticipated an explosion on top of it. If Lee hadn’t stayed behind when he’d headed to his cabin before the shockwave hit, the captain would be fine now.

It was no good second guessing himself. Lee could have just as easily ended up in another part of the boat, one that had been breached by flooding. And knowing Seaview’s young commander the way he did, Lee would have likely endangered himself somehow. The incident in Sick Bay was a freak accident. It could have been much worse. Lee might have been alone. At least he had Chip to help him through the trauma. 

And there was no one better than Seaview’s executive officer when it came to looking after and protecting her captain.

**********

Lee listened to Chip’s conversation with Jamie, but it funneled in and out of his mind like the flotsam of a half-remembered dream. He had moments of vivid clarity and others where everything felt oddly surreal. All he wanted to do was go back to Mae, but he couldn’t recapture that magical tapestry of glittering water and sunlight. 

He’d made love to her there on the grass, and it never occurred to him that someone might see. He’d been in a place no one else could go, a wondrous sanctuary he and Mae had entirely to themselves. The sheer impossibility of that haven made him recall her words.

Do you know who I am, Lee?

He groaned, unwilling to contemplate the answer. It burrowed awake nonetheless:  You’re not real. It’s all a masquerade.

He heard the sound of cloth tearing and forced himself back to the present. The room bobbled, whirling like a top, taking his stomach with it. He swallowed hard and blinked until he could focus. Some time had obviously passed since Chip had talked to Jamie.

His friend was seated at the bedside once again, bandages and a basin of water nearby. Chip cut his sleeve with a pair of scissors, ripping the material until it butted up against the blood-encrusted binding on his arm.

“Don’t.” Lee made a weak attempt to bat him away. His head was spinning and his stomach churned.

“So, you’re awake.” Chip smiled softly. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but Jamie says this wound has to be cleaned.” As he talked, the blond-haired man carefully slipped the scissors beneath the edge of the gore-soaked bandage and snipped it open.

Lee hissed in a breath when air struck his exposed skin.

“Sorry.” Chip peeled the sodden mass off his arm, leaving his ruined sleeve to fall open. “You know the drill. We’ve done this already. It won’t take long.”

“No. Leave it alone.” Grimacing, Lee tried to roll onto his side. “My stomach, Chip . . .”

“What’s wrong?” Chip stopped immediately, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Are you going to be sick?”

“Don’t know . . . maybe.” He pressed his fingertips to his temple, trying to still the pounding in his head. Behind him, he heard Chip shove from the chair and shuffle around in the background. A cabinet door banged, followed by another. A second later, he felt his friend hovering over him.

“Lee, I’ve got a basin here if you need it.”

Great. He was already a pain-wracked, bloody mess. All he needed to shred his dignity a step further was to spew his guts into a plastic, crescent-shaped tub. He kept his face to the wall, his knees drawn up and curled close to his stomach. “I’m okay,” he spat through gritted teeth.  

Chip wasn’t buying it. He slid a hand onto Lee’s forehead, smoothing a riot of sweat-soaked curls from his brow. “You’re not okay. Tell me what I can do to help.”

Lee closed his eyes tightly. “Nothing.” His stomach cramped, and he groaned. Sweat poured off him, his shirt plastered to his back and sides, sticky with perspiration. The tear below his ribs made his body burn hot with fire. He bit his lip and turned his face into the pillow. The sickening roiling in his gut boomeranged into his head, and he fisted a hand in the sheets, breathing raggedly. “It’ll pass,” he said.

Eventually, it did.

Slowly, his fingers uncoiled, then his legs. He eased onto his back, thankful when Chip used a cloth to dab the sweat from his face. He hated feeling so worthless, irked that he couldn’t help himself. He’d become a burden, shamefully dependent on his friend. He knew Chip was running on fumes, his stamina dangerously close to meltdown. It made him feel repugnant, fully aware he was the catalyst of his friend’s fatigue. “You have to be feeling sick too,” he whispered hoarsely.   

“A little.” Chip sat down in the chair. “But I didn’t get as much of the ethylene as you did, and I don’t have a hole in my side compounding it. Jamie says they’re working double time to reach us.”

“That’s good.” He wrapped a hand around the post at the head of the bunk, needing something solid to hang onto. “What . . . what’d you learn from Jamie about the condition of the boat?”   

Chip looked blank for a moment, then slightly chagrined. “I didn’t.”

“What do you mean you didn’t?”

“I didn’t ask and he didn’t say. We were both more concerned about your condition. I’m sure everything is fine, Lee.”

Lee frowned. He raised himself up slightly and motioned to the walkie-talkie Chip had left on the rollaway table. “Give me that thing.”

The exec scowled. “You can do without the update for a few minutes, Captain. I need to take care of that arm wound first.”

“Later. I want to know what’s happening with Seaview.”

Chip bit back a retort. Lee could be outrageously stubborn when he set his mind to it. The man had a willful streak he’d yet to see equaled. Yet as aggravating as that trait could be, it was also part of what made him such a good commander.

Chip sighed and reached for the walkie-talkie. He figured compromise would save him from arguing and he could get to the arm wound that much quicker. “Five minutes.” He passed Lee the handset. “After that I’m taking it back. I don’t care if you do outrank me.”

Lee glared but couldn’t really argue. His energy level was already sapped just from sitting upright. Taking the handset from Chip, he crumpled back against the bed and turned the dial.

“Jamie,” he said into the mike. “This is Crane. Come in.”

**********

Harry dragged a hand across the back of his neck. It was somewhere after midnight, that lonely half-limbo before dawn when everything seemed darker, bleaker and colder, as if the sun would never rise again. He should have been tired but felt agitated instead, his boxed energy combustive enough to have him silently grinding his teeth. He’d already chain-smoked four cigarettes, but the nicotine just made him edgier. The damage control teams were working nonstop to circumvent flooding and repair the reactor. Communications were slowly coming back in those areas where it had been knocked out, but Sick Bay - - despite the attention they gave it - - was still offline.

It was ironic when he thought about it. When planning Seaview he’d taken extra care to place Sick Bay in one of the more secure areas of the boat. Now that same forethought of design and attention to detail was part of the problem. Everything from robots run amuck to rampaging aliens and mutant sea creatures had busted through the bulkhead in other areas at one time or another, but Sick Bay had always remained basically secure. For the first time since he’d designed his beloved submarine, Harry regretted he hadn’t made the section more accessible.

Frustrated, he paced into the observation nose and stood, hands on hips, staring out the massive herculite windows. His mind wouldn’t stop - - whirling around the boat, the crew, Chip and Lee. His captain and executive officer were two of the most capable, innovative men he knew. The longer the hours dragged without even marginal contact, the more he worried about their predicament. Damage control said they had the flooding contained, but…

“Admiral Nelson?”

He jerked abruptly, wrenched from his thoughts by a woman’s softly inquiring tone. He turned in time to see Cadie Eldridge step from the spiral stairs, trailed by her husband. 

“May we speak with you?” she asked, crossing the nose to join him below the windows.

“Mrs. Eldridge.” He forced a polite smile but his heart wasn’t in it. True, he was responsible for the civilians on his boat, but right now his mind was sidetracked by Seaview’s condition. The quake had been unexpected, occurring in a region not normally prone to seismic activity. Another shockwave and they might just end up stranded permanently. “Is your team all right?” Damn, if he hadn’t done only a brief perfunctory check earlier. He really should have made sure he had a thorough report. “Everything all right in the lab?”

“The team is fine,” Sherman supplied, joining his wife. “Unfortunately, most of the samples were compromised when the shockwave hit.”

“If you’re thinking about collecting more,” Harry said quickly, anticipating the suggestion, “Now isn’t the time to be sending out divers.”

“No, no, of course not.” Sherman shook his head emphatically. “I agree completely. That’s not what we wanted to see you about.”

“Well, then what is it?” Harry knew impatience bled into his voice but couldn’t stop the annoyance. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate their right to be concerned, just that . . . Hell, if only Lee and Chip would check in.

“It’s about Commander Crane.” Cadie twined her hands together. She cast her husband a worried glance then took a deep breath and pointedly addressed Harry. “Admiral Nelson, your captain has been badly hurt.”

Harry felt the wind knocked out of him. Of course, she couldn’t know that. She was simply fishing . . . guessing . . . and yet she sounded so cursedly sure. He didn’t need a guest on his boat, no matter how becoming and fragile she might appear, dreaming up ugly scenarios he’d spent the last several hours mentally denying.

“We’ve determined Captain Crane is in Sick Bay. The area is cut off by flooding.”

“Yes, I know that.” 

He scowled, his irritation plain. “Then how could you possibly…”

“Please.” Cadie shot a nervous glance to the control room. Each man went about his business, immune to the trio in the nose, but it was obvious she felt uncomfortable. “Can we talk where it’s a little less . . . exposed. I assure you, what I have to tell you is vitally important. If you care anything at all for the young man who commands this vessel…”

“Over here,” Harry said gruffly, motioning the woman and her husband into the less visible section by the stairs. If I care anything at all! She had no right to show up with a cryptic warning about Lee and then imply he wasn’t concerned. Exasperated, he fought to hold his temper in check.

“All right, Mrs. Eldridge,” he said once they were safely tucked around the corner. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have enough to occupy my mind at the moment - - including the whereabouts of Lee Crane and my executive officer. Suppose you speak plainly.”

Cadie hesitated, exchanging a glance with her husband. When he nodded, she drew a breath and plowed ahead, her voice firm. “Very well, Admiral. There’s been an explosion in Sick Bay. A chemical your doctor uses for sterilization - - ethylene oxide - - ignited when the circuitry sparked. It was contained in a glass and metal supply cabinet. If you don’t believe me, ask your doctor. He’ll verify the chemical and its method of storage.”

“I’m familiar with ethylene oxide and its uses, Mrs. Eldridge.”

She nodded and continued in the same clipped voice. “The cabinet took the brunt of the impact, resulting in a shower of glass and metal. I don’t have to tell you what that kind of projectile can do to human flesh. Captain Crane suffered several cuts, the worse being a deep laceration below his ribs. Commander Morton has done what he can to make him comfortable, but I’m afraid the captain is in bad shape. He’s lost a great deal of blood, is in a lot of pain and is running a dangerously high fever. If he doesn’t get help soon…”

“You’ll forgive me if I have a hard time accepting any of this,” Harry interrupted curtly. Just who the hell was this woman, thinking she could make up fantastical lies about a crisis situation? About a man he’d come to think of as fondly as if he were his own son. “In case it’s eluded you, there are no viable means of contacting anyone in Sick Bay. Therefore,” his expression grew thunderous as he fought to hold his hostility in check, “you couldn’t possibly know that. Unless you have a crystal ball or can see through walls.” He couldn’t stop the snide inflection on his closing shot and immediately regretted it. Maybe the woman was delusional, sick in the head. Maybe that’s why Sherman doted on her the way he did. Whatever the hell the reason was, he didn’t want to listen to any more of her sick fabrications about Lee. “Dr. Eldridge, I think you should escort your wife to…”

“Cadence doesn’t lie,” Eldridge said sharply.

Exasperated, Harry looked at him. He could understand the woman having mental lapses, but not Sherman. “And you expect me to believe this on hearsay?” he challenged.

Eldridge sighed. “Cadie tell him how you know. How you really know.”

Harry pressed his lips together. He wasn’t sure which of them he wanted to throttle more - - Mrs. Eldridge for wasting his time or Sherman for indulging her.

She looked at him steadily. “Seaview told me.”

His last straw of patience threatened to unravel. “Seaview?” Surprisingly, his voice was deadly calm. Anyone else would have known he was fast approaching a danger zone that surpassed anger.

“Not Seaview exactly,” Cadie clarified. “But her spirit. Her name is Mae. And she’s been with Lee.”

Harry inhaled sharply. When he spoke, his words were bitten off in fury. “Mrs. Eldridge, do you have any idea what Lee Crane means to me? While you’re standing here wasting my time with this silly charade, he could be…”

The retort died abruptly as her hand closed over his. Sensation flooded through him, shocking and cold, so astoundingly consuming he felt his mind flayed open. His vision clouded, snuffed into a space where time had no meaning and all he could do was cling to a thin fragment of sanity. 

The ocean surged around him, raw and wild, pulsing with a vital blood-beat like a heart. It engulfed him, cradled him, ripped the breath from his lungs and tossed him into a dark maw of impression and sound. He felt small, insignificant, soaring into a realm he couldn’t fathom.

A whole world opened - - freedom and space, infinity and life. And always, no matter what else touched his consciousness, the cool silk of the ocean flowed over him- - lover, mentor, guardian and guide.

Just that quickly it was gone.

Harry blinked, the familiar lines of the observation nose growing solid once again. Bewildered, he tried to cling to the impressions he’d felt. “What . . . what happened?”

Cadie withdrew her hand. “I gave you a glimpse of who I am. Who Mae is.”

He stared at her and saw those same images replayed on the surface of her eyes - - water, darkness and light. The heart of the ocean glimmered in her gaze, elemental and raw as when it was first formed. She smiled slightly and the illusion vanished.

He swallowed hard. “What did you do? How did you . . .”

“Because, like Mae, I am a spirit. The difference is I’ve taken human form. I wasn’t always like this, Admiral.” She paused deliberately. “Do you know the story of Sherman’s research vessel? The ship that sank.”

“The Cadence of the Sea,” Harry replied automatically. He’d done some checking on Sherman’s background before agreeing to the cruise. Something clicked in the back of his mind. What had Sherman called his wife earlier? Not ‘Cadie’ but ‘Cadence.’

“You’re putting it together already,” Cadie said with a knowing smile. “A man who’s been going to sea as long as you have is surely familiar with the legend of a ship’s spirit. I fell in love with Sherman, and when my ship sank, I did the unthinkable - - the one thing a spirit may never do. I saved his life.”

“And as a result has been cursed to human form,” Sherman inserted, his voice somber. “Her health has been frail ever since. And like the rest of us, she’ll age and die. Had she left me to my fate, she would have become part of the ocean - - free and untethered, ageless until the end of time.”

“It is no curse if I am with you,” Cadie said, taking his hand. Her eyes shifted back to Nelson. “I will make this brief, Admiral. Seaview has a spirit, just as every ship and boat has a spirit. She is the heart and soul of the vessel. Most spirits will never make their presence felt. Very few have that strength, but every once in awhile, emotion is stronger. I don’t have to tell you Lee Crane’s connection to this boat is an impassioned one.”

Harry shook his head, struck momentarily speechless. If he hadn’t seen what he’d seen, if he hadn’t felt what he’d felt, he’d think she’d gone off the deep end. But he’d been inside her eyes, swallowed by the ocean and time, his mind ripped apart by an ancient mysticism he didn’t understand.  

“It’s that connection that has allowed Mae to reach beyond the boundaries of our world.”

“Mae?” he said finally.

Cadie smiled softly. “Every spirit is deserving of a name.”

“You can talk to her?”

“Talk isn’t the right word. ‘Communicate’ would be more accurate. Sometimes that is only through impressions, other times I hear her voice inside my head. She is very fond of you, Admiral. She thinks of you like a daughter would a father.”

He shifted, uncomfortable. “And Lee?”

“She’s in love with him. The same way I fell in love with Sherman.”

“God, you’re talking about my boat like she’s a woman.”

“Not your boat, Admiral. I’m talking about a spirit. There is a key distinction and, until you understand that, you’ll never grasp how Mae can communicate with Lee. Circuits, metal and steel are only that - - parts of a shell. Your boat is a shell. As magnificent as it is, it is still a lifeless, man-made husk. You need to step back in time to an ancient way of thinking. To elementals that have always ruled earth, sea, fire and air. Man has moved ahead and closed himself off from those things that existed when the cosmos were formed, but that doesn’t mean we’ve perished.”

“Admiral!”

Before he could say a word, Jamie bolted around the corner. Flushed and out of breath, he clutched a walkie-talkie in his hand. The moment Harry saw it he remembered their discussion several months ago and Jamie’s dogged insistence he have a set for Sick Bay. It was like a lifeline dropped in his lap. Mentally, he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner.

“I’ve heard from Chip,” Jamie said quickly. He shot a brief, dismissive glance to Sherman and Cadie. “Pardon the interruption, but we were right. He and Lee are trapped in Sick Bay.”

The admiral waited for the other shoe to drop. He saw the truth in Jamie’s eyes before the doctor even spoke.

“Admiral, Lee’s hurt badly.”

The declaration cut through him like a knife. “How?”

“An explosion. Ethylene oxide. The supply cabinet was ripped to shreds and Lee got hit with several projectiles - - glass and metal. It doesn’t sound good.”

Harry looked at Cadie. If he’d had any doubt she could communicate with the spirit she called Mae, it was gone now. He still didn’t understand how she could be flesh and blood, talking to him, but reasoned it had something to do with the fact the Cadence of the Sea no longer existed. She had chosen mortality and human form over the boundless freedom she would have known as part of the ocean that had given her birth. And all because of her love for Sherman.

“I’m sorry I doubted you, Mrs. Eldridge,” he said quietly. “I’d like to talk to you later, at greater length, but…” Before he could relay his concern for Lee and a driving need to talk to Jamieson, the receiver in Jamie’s hand crackled to life.

“Jamie.” Lee’s voice preceded a spurt of static. “This is Crane. Come in.”

**********

Harry didn’t ask permission. At hearing Lee’s voice, he simply grabbed the receiver from Jamie and pressed the transmit button. His heart jack hammered against his ribcage. “Lee, this is Nelson. Will said you were hurt in an explosion.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he clung to a thin strand of hope there’d been a mistake. Jamieson was wrong, Cadie was wrong. Wasn’t Lee talking to him? Surely, if he was well enough to speak . . .

But when he heard the weakened thread of Lee’s voice a second time, gut instinct told him everything was true.

“Admiral.” Lee paused as if gathering himself to speak. “Chip’s been looking after me. It could have been worse.” Another pause. “What about Seaview?”

“Hang the blasted boat! Will you let me worry about that?” As quickly as the burst of anger surfaced, it tumbled into submission. Harry dragged a hand over the back of his neck and stepped away from the other three, lowering his voice. He needed another cigarette, he needed some damned perspective. More than anything, he needed to know his injury-prone captain was going to be all right. “Lee . . . I need you to hang on. A few more hours maximum and we’ll be able to reach you. Tell me what kind of trouble you’re in.”

“I . . .” Lee started to speak, but his voice cut out. There followed a crackle of static and a lengthy pause that made Harry’s heart beat faster. 

Several seconds passed before Chip’s voice came over the handset.

“Admiral, this is Morton. Lee insisted on asking for an update, but he’s exhausted. He doesn’t really have the strength to talk.”

“Then why the hell are you letting him worry about the damn boat?” As soon as he snapped off the reply, Harry regretted it. He knew Chip would be doing everything he possibly could for his long-time friend. He also knew Lee was likely giving the blond-haired man grief, his reputation for stubbornness well known among Seaview’s crew and even naval brass. Chip had his hands full just trying to keep Lee alive. The last thing he needed was a worried-sick-to-his-stomach admiral biting his head off. 

He exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry, Chip. That was uncalled for. As I told Lee, we’re doing everything we can to reach you.”

“I know that, Sir. Lee’s experiencing some dizziness, so I’m going to sign off now.”

Harry swallowed back a lump. “Call Jamie if you need assistance.”

“Aye, Sir. Just hurry. Morton out.”

The line went dead, the sudden silence compounding the emptiness in his heart. Just hurry.

“Mr. O’Brien,” he bellowed, striding toward the control room. He left Cadie and Sherman Eldridge with Jamie, his stomach in his throat after hearing how weak Lee had sounded. “I want an update on the flooding near Sick Bay. Now!”

He trusted Jamie would see to Dr. Eldridge and his wife, his own focus solely on his young commander. Faced with an ugly truth he hadn’t considered before, he grimaced.

 He was going to have to tell Mitchell about Lee.

**********

Harry was halfway to the science lab to speak with Mitchell when he encountered Chief Sharkey in the hallway.

“Sir, I was on my way to see you. I need to talk to you about our repair status.” Sharkey looked grim, a demeanor indicating the news he had to share would not be good.

Anticipating the worst, Harry felt his temper flare. “Well, spit it out man.” He’d just encountered a woman who was a mythological being, learned the boat he’d designed was inhabited by a sentient spirit, and the man he’d come to think of as a son had suffered a debilitating injury. The last thing he needed was any further complication, but judging by the Chief’s expression, it was exactly where Sharkey was headed. “I thought damage control was making progress.”

“They are, Sir. We should be operational in a few hours as estimated.”

“Then what the blame is the problem?”

“It’s just that . . .” Sharkey cleared his throat and shifted. “Well, Sir, that shockwave definitely rattled us around, but we found some other damage that’s inconsistent with the jolt from a quake.”

“Such as?”

“It looks like someone was attempting to rewire one of the panels in the circuitry room. I think they might have been in the process of doing it when the quake hit, and they ended up frying the whole board instead.

Nelson frowned. “Sabotage?” It didn’t seem possible. He would have vouched for each member of the crew, and the research team had all endured extensive security checks. It wouldn’t, however, be the first time they had a saboteur on board. Any one of his men could have been subjected to brainwashing or drugging. Lee had gone through a similar ordeal just a year ago. “Why sink us?” he mumbled, trying to work through the rationale.

“Sir, I don’t think that was the intent,” Sharkey clarified. “It looks like someone was trying to disrupt operations on a small scale. My guess is they only had a rudimentary knowledge of electronics. When the shockwave hit, the wiring crossed with the main panel and blew a circuit in the reactor.”

“Any idea who would do such a thing?”

“No, Sir, but …” Sharkey hesitated. 

From experience, Harry knew the other man was trying to determine how free he could be with his thoughts. “Go on, Chief,” he prompted.

“Sir, it’s just that I can’t imagine a member of our crew  . . . I mean, deliberate sabotage is one thing, but it seems to me this was originally engineered to look like a careless mistake. It just blew up in the face of the jerk that did it. I know the guys on this boat and there’s not one of them who…”

“I hear you, Chief.” Nelson held up a hand. He looked at Sharkey steadily. “You know who that leaves, don’t you . . . what you’re implying?”

Sharkey pressed his lips together. He squared his shoulders. “Yes, Sir.”

Nelson nodded. “As it turns out, I happen to agree with you. See Mr. O’Brien in the control room and give him a complete update. Tell him I’ll be in Lab B if he needs me.”

“Aye, Sir.”

Sharkey moved away down the corridor, and Harry continued toward the lab. Why would a member of Eldridge’s team want to make anyone on Seaview look incompetent?

Because it would reflect badly on her captain.

Harry pressed his lips into a tight line. He hoped he was wrong, but the bald-faced reality was he could think of only one man who nursed a grudge. One man who had consistently disrupted operations from the moment he’d stepped aboard. Toss in the fact he’d been publicly humiliated by confinement to the brig and that he already held an intense dislike for Seaview’s commander, and Mitchell Blake was a prime suspect. If guilty, it also made him indirectly responsible for Lee’s condition. The boat never would have suffered the damage she had if someone hadn’t been screwing around with the circuitry panel when the shockwave struck.

Rolling his hands into fists, Harry fought to keep his anger from getting ahead of him. He knew he shouldn’t make snap judgments. Still, his mind crept in that direction as he un-dogged the hatch and stepped into Lab B.

Mitchell Blake looked up, seemingly annoyed at the interruption. “Admiral.” His mouth tightened in a grimace. “If you’re here to relay more bad news, I don’t have the patience. We’ve already lost 85% of our protein samples. This cruise has turned into a fiasco.”

Irked by his greeting, Harry decided to go straight for the jugular. “And you like that, don’t you? It reinforces your outlandish justification that your stepson is somehow at fault and inept.” 

Mitchell hesitated, hovering over a lab table littered with multiple Petri dishes. Papers were scattered across the surface, several tablets and books stacked off to the side. A single microscope in the center was fitted with a slide beneath the stage clips, the objective lens lowered for up-close observation. Across the room, a familiar wall of specimen tanks exhibited a colorful display of fish and underwater plant life. Whereas the lab would have normally instilled a sense of order and a desire for knowledge, Harry felt only aggravation. Just looking at Mitchell made his hackles rise. How could any man - - especially one who’d been blessed with the coveted role of stepfather - - fail to feel anything but extreme fondness and protective loyalty for Lee?

Mitchell drew back, staring down his nose. The first two fingers of his right hand were wrapped in fresh white gauze. To hide a burn perhaps, Harry wondered.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Mitchell deadpanned.

“Then let me spell it out for you.” Harry took a step closer to the table, biting his words off in clipped precision. “Lee has been badly hurt. He’s trapped in Sick Bay, cut off by flooding. He was caught in an explosion and has suffered a severe injury. He’s lost a great deal of blood and is fighting an alarmingly high fever.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Mitchell returned his attention to the microscope, his expression bland. 

Hot rage surged through Harry. “Damn you!” Every protective instinct he had kicked into overdrive. “Lee Crane is your stepson. How dare you stand there and callously dismiss his suffering!”

Mitchell gave a contemptuous snort. “Spare me the sermonizing, Admiral. If you’re waiting for me to ooze compassion or break out in sympathy, you’re wasting your time. I don’t care what’s happened to Lee, I’ve no need for updates, and it wouldn’t upset me an iota if I never encountered him again. The man is a thorn in my side, and I don’t care who knows it.”

Revulsion twisted Harry’s mouth. “You self-righteous bastard.”

Mitchell snickered. “Appalled, are you? You want me to fawn over him like everyone else does, especially his mother? ‘Youngest commander in the history of the Navy’. . . ‘Graduated first in his class’ . . .   ‘Renowned the world over as the dashing captain of the illustrious Seaview.’” His face twisted with contempt. “The hell with that. It’s bad enough he’s part of my life. I don’t need to have my nose rubbed in his accomplishments on a daily basis. No matter where I go, what I do, there’s always someone who wants the inside track on Lee Crane. The truth is I don’t give a damn what happens to him.”

It took every ounce of self-restraint Harry had not to throttle the man. His face turned an unhealthy shade of red as rage bulleted through him. “You sicken me.”

“Why? Because I’m not enamored of your precious captain?” Mitchell’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “Oh, I’ve seen how you treat him, Admiral. How you cater to him. He’s more than just your commander, isn’t he? You think of him like…”

“…I think of him like a son!” Harry raged, emotions boiling on the surface. He’d never actually said it outright, but he no longer cared who knew. Lee was hurt, possibly dying, and his gut was in a knot over the outcome. “That’s more than I can say for you, you sanctimonious bag of wind. If you had any decency…”

“…let me tell you about decency,” Mitchell spat, cutting him off. He circled around the table, confronting Harry toe-to-toe. “I married his mother even when I knew she didn’t love me. All my life, I’ve been second best in her eyes. She loved a working class, blue-collar cop, when she could have had me!” He drilled a thumb against his chest, driving home his indignation. “I was rich and successful, moved in society circles and came from a family comprised of doctors, attorneys, bankers and politicians. I was in love with her for years before she met Grayson. I hated that bastard. Hated him because he stole the only woman I ever loved. When he died, I had a second chance with Ellen.”

“But she still didn’t love you.” Harry was beginning to understand.

Mitchell grimaced. “No. But it hardly mattered. Her health had taken a turn for the worse, and she had a kid to worry about. I know she married me for security and convenience, but I didn’t care. What irked me was having to look at Crane’s kid every time I turned around. He was a constant reminder of Grayson. And the older he got, the more he looked like his father, the more I despised him.”

“He was ten-years-old when you married his mother,” Harry protested, appalled by what he was hearing. “How can you possibly hold a grudge against a child for something he had no control over? You had no right to take your hatred of Grayson out on Lee. That’s just blind prejudice.” 

“I don’t care what you call it. All I know is he’s his father’s kid and that’s enough to make me despise him. And now he’s ‘Commander Crane’.” Snide emphasis dripped from the title. “So damn noble and perfect looking, it’s all I can do to keep from puking when I’m around him.”

Harry had heard enough. “Is that why you tried to sabotage the circuitry panel?”    

Mitchell balked. He drew back, caught off guard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe I can refresh your memory.” Harry’s temper flirted at the edge of its leash. “Someone tried to do a rudimentary rewire on a base circuit. Unfortunately, the shockwave hit at precisely the same time, and the ensuing conflagration resulted in extensive damage. Now if I were a betting man, I’d wager that initial bypass was done with the intent of causing just enough chaos to disrupt regular operations - - put us on the bottom briefly, delay the mission and make the commander of this vessel look inept.” His eyes flicked to the bandage wrapped around Mitchell’s fingers. “What happened to your hand, Doctor?”

“I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you I’d cut myself?”

“A burn is easily detected.”

“So it is.” Mitchell didn’t bat an eye. Having recovered his composure, he gave an acknowledging dip of his head. “You read through the lines pretty damn well.”

“You obnoxious bastard.” Harry hooked his hands in Mitchell’s shirt and heaved him forward, until they were just inches apart. “You could have cost Lee his life with that stupid stunt. I swear to God, if he doesn’t recover, I’ll see you’re locked behind bars for every day of your miserable life. As it is, you’re going to spend the rest of this cruise in the brig, and I’ll make damn sure the world learns of your underhandedness. Your career is over, Doctor.”

“How dare you threaten me!” Mitchell wrenched free violently. “You have no right. I was justified in what I did. That pompous tyrant tossed me behind bars as retaliation for the way I treated him as a child. He publically humiliated me! I’m only sorry I didn’t punish him more severely when he was a kid.”

Harry shook his head, his stomach twisting. “You’re a loathsome, revolting man. You realize that aside from the harm you’ve caused Lee and the damage you’ve done to this vessel, you jeopardized the lives of 125 men? There’s no excuse for you, Dr. Blake.” It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to reach out and throttle the man. It sickened him to think the pompous S.O.B. had put his hands on Lee, treating him unjustly and cruelly when Lee was just a child. He couldn’t imagine anyone disliking his sensitive young captain, especially when his own feelings had crossed the line of boss and employee to a much more familial closeness. He had no son and Lee had no father. He knew he’d never be a replacement for Grayson Crane, but he did all he could to fill that glaring void in Lee’s life.

Without a doubt, Lee filled the emptiness in his.

“You’re done, Mitchell,” he promised. His blue eyes turned as cold as ice, cutting as steel. “If you have any decency left in that stone you call a heart, you’ll pray Lee is going to be all right. You might love his mother, but Ellen Crane is never going to forgive you for what you’ve done to her son. God knows, I never will.”

**********

Chip shoved the small table aside, revolted by the collection of blood-drenched gauze littered across the top. It seemed no matter what he did there was always more blood. He’d managed to clean and bandage Lee’s arm, but the task had been grimly unpleasant. By the time he was through, Lee was pale and trembling, and Chip felt sick to the stomach. A single glance at his commander and friend confirmed Lee’s continual battle against peaks and valleys of pain.

“Here.” Chip uncapped a bottle of pills and spilled two of the tablets into his hand. “It’s not really time, but Jamie says you can have more of these. Maybe they’ll help you sleep.”

One could only hope. Lee had dozed briefly, but the pain was dogged enough it didn’t let him slip away for long, even with the added benefit of a narcotic.

Chip braced an arm behind his back and supported his shoulders until Lee was able to down the pills with a mouthful of water. He pressed a hand to the younger man’s forehead as the captain sagged back into the pillows. “You’re still warm.”

Lee gave a grunt, his eyes heavy. Only half aware of his surroundings, he tried to curl onto his side. He hissed in a sharp breath and jerked backward, the gash below his ribs making the movement impossible. “Hot, Chip.” He swallowed audibly, pressing a hand to the damp bandage. “My side . . . can’t get comfortable.”

“I know.” Chip felt useless, would have cursed a blue streak if it would have done any good. “How about another pillow? Maybe behind your back?” He stood, snatching one from the top rack. Carefully, he positioned it lengthwise against the bulkhead so Lee could lean against it, slightly elevating the right side of his body. Chip looked at him hopefully. “Any better?”

Lee nodded. “Thanks. How is it you always know what to do?”

Chip gave a soft snort. “I run a good bluff.” If anything he felt incompetent, but he wasn’t about to project that depression and frustration to Lee. “I’ve also had a lot of practice looking out for you. It comes with the territory of XO.”

“You were doing it long before that,” Lee whispered drowsily.

It was amazing how quickly exhaustion could make him drift once he was comfortable. Hopefully the pillow supporting Lee’s back would continue to give him a measure of ease for more than just a handful of minutes. “Must be because you end up in a mess so often,” Chip chided affectionately. He dusted his fingers over Lee’s brow, brushing back a sweat-tipped snarl of curls. It never failed to astound him how his friend’s always perfectly groomed hair revolted into a mass of ringlets the moment it absorbed any moisture. “Besides . . .” He whispered, as Lee’s eyes closed and his friend started to drift. “. . . you spent far too many years not having anyone care.”

He doubted Lee heard him, his breathing growing shallower as the weight of unconsciousness pulled him under. It was true. Mitchell certainly didn’t care; he never had. And Lee had grown too reclusive and moody after Grayson’s death to make many friends. People respected him on first association, but his friendship was much harder won, reserved for only a select few.

Chip was thankful he’d taken the time to press at Annapolis when Lee had initially erected walls. He could have thrown up his hands and walked away like so many others, incorrectly labeling the serious black-haired plebe a stuck-up, moody perfectionist. It wasn’t that Lee was arrogant or aloof, just that he was inherently private, and that privacy came laden with closely-guarded scars. Chip had never had to ‘work’ at a friendship before, but Lee had been a challenge. He still couldn’t say exactly why he’d bothered at first, except that Lee Crane had the most damned expressive eyes he’d ever seen. Even to this day Lee could say one thing while his gaze communicated something entirely different. As a commander, he’d grown adept at schooling his expression, even his eyes, to betray little or no emotion, but Chip knew him better than most. He also knew all bets were off when Lee was overly tired or in pain. On those occasions, the captain’s eyes were a clear barometer to his mood.

He wished he had a barometer now, or better yet, a crystal ball. It was growing harder to wait, his impatience creeping higher as Lee’s health continued to deteriorate. The man had lost entirely too much blood, and the ibuprofen wasn’t cutting it for fever. Lee needed intravenous antibiotics to ward against infection and saline for dehydration. He needed to be in a hospital.

If the admiral could just raise the boat off the bottom and open a channel to Sick Bay, the Flying Sub could have him there in less than two hours.

Chip grimaced. Even that was too long.

Weary, he leaned forward and braced an elbow on his knee, rubbing his temple. His head felt like it wanted to explode but he couldn’t tell if it was from fatigue, the dull throbbing at the base of his skull, or his own feelings of failure. 

“God, Lee, please hang on,” he muttered. They’d been in tight spots before. His friend was a survivor, had beaten the odds on countless occasions but, sooner or later, Lee was going to tempt fate one time too many.  

Snatching up the walkie-talkie, Chip stood and paced into Jamie’s office, convinced he wouldn’t last another nanosecond without a status update. Just thinking about Lee’s condition made him desperate for a legitimate time estimate on rescue. No more hours, he wanted it whittled down to minutes. Surely, the damned flooding had to be under control by now.

He had the hand mike half raised to his lips when a loud crackle erupted from the overhead speakers. A second later, the admiral’s voice blared across the intercom.

“Commander Morton, this is Nelson. Come in.”

**********

Harry scraped a hand through his hair and paced off a tight circle. He’d escorted - - practically dragged - - Mitchell to the brig then returned to the lab to rummage through the protein samples. As a whole, the cruise was a failure. It was not how he’d envisioned starting a relationship with Sherman Eldridge and his research foundation. Still, he couldn’t be held accountable for freak occurrences of nature or, worse yet, one of Eldridge’s own team members turning vindictive and sabotaging Seaview.

Every time he thought about Mitchell Blake and how intensely the man disliked Lee, Harry felt his blood boil. They were going to have a mess on their hands when the whole thing eventually blew up. Lee had already been straddling a fine line with Mitchell for the sake of his mother, but Harry didn’t see how that could possibly continue now. Legal proceedings would destroy Mitchell’s career but also boomerang back on Lee. He was already renowned as the captain of Seaview. What would happen when the media latched onto the story and went into a feeding frenzy over his estranged relationship with his stepfather? 

Ellen Crane would be caught in the middle, and although Harry had no doubt where her loyalties lay, any separation or divorce from Mitchell was bound to be messy. He didn’t see how she could possibly forgive a man who’d committed sabotage resulting in a life-threatening injury to her son. Unless they were careful, the whole thing would end up splashed across the front page of every newspaper and gutter tabloid coast to coast. Lee’s past and childhood were bound to be dragged through the mud. Intensely private by nature, Lee would likely grow reclusive and bitingly defensive.

Harry cursed.

He wasn’t going to let it happen. Whatever became of Mitchell, he’d pull enough strings to keep Lee and Ellen as protected from the fallout as he could.

Incensed, he ground his teeth. Sometimes it just plain sucked being an admiral, having to tread the lines of protocol and diplomacy. If he’d had his way, he would have decked Mitchell for his treatment and callous disregard of Lee. No wonder his commander avoided talking about his childhood and only took infrequent trips home. Even visiting his mother had to be wretchedly uncomfortable with the viperous Dr. Blake around.

Not that long ago, Harry had questioned Lee as to why he thought Mitchell disliked him so much. His young captain had avoided answering, but he couldn’t help thinking Lee suspected the truth. In all those years of slurs and punishments, Mitchell had surely cursed Grayson’s name around Lee more than once. He’d probably made a point of doing it.

But never when Ellen was within earshot, Harry guessed.

And so Lee had felt trapped - - knowing he was despised, his father hated, but that his mother had made a choice he was required to live with. For her sake. For her security.

Ironic, when according to Mitchell, Ellen had married him for the sole purpose of providing Lee with financial stability. The marriage had been doomed from the start, built on falsehoods rather than love, but it was Lee who’d suffered the most for Ellen’s charade.

“Admiral Nelson.” 

The voice jarred him from his thoughts. He turned quickly, pivoting on his heel to find a woman standing just inside the hatchway. She wore a clingy blue sundress with spaghetti straps and a handkerchief hem. Her hair was waist-length, pale in color, woven with curling strands of platinum and white. Yet it was her very presence that was the most distracting, spectral in nature, as if she had no true physical form. Alarmed, he realized he could see through her.

“Who are you?” Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer in his heart.

Her gaze was steady and guileless. “Don’t you know, Admiral?”

Of course he did. Cadence had told him about her, but he would have known regardless. He felt a strange, wistful connection flare between them. “You’re the spirit of my boat. Mae - - isn’t it?”

“You’ve been talking to Cadence.”

“She’s had a lot to say.” Harry took a step forward, curiosity getting the better of him. There was something winsome, wholly engaging about the girl. The scientific part of his brain wondered over her nature while an emotional surge he didn’t expect triggered something entirely different. He felt a flood of warmth.

“How is it, I haven’t been . . . aware of you before?”

 

She smiled. “You have a very scientific mind, Admiral. While you enjoy exploration and the unknown, you think mainly in facts. It’s why you were able to build something as remarkable as Seaview.” Her eyes danced, a constantly shifting blend of aqua, orchid and onyx. He sensed she was amused but that her humor was tinged with affection.

“Sometimes genius doesn’t allow for simple feelings and emotions,” she continued. “A mythological spirit cannot be explained by science. For that you have to look deeper inside yourself . . . to impressions that are purely instinctual and heart-felt. You’ve always had that ability, you just rarely use it. Cadence gave you a glimpse into who she is and that’s made you receptive to me. It’s why you’re able to see me now. Under normal circumstances, you’re not a demonstrative man.”

“No.” He couldn’t argue with her on that.

“Except when it comes to your commander.”

Harry swallowed hard. Lee was always the exception to every rule. If this woman, this spirit, could feel his emotions, then she was surely able to sense the turmoil he felt over his injured friend. 

He circumvented the topic. “Cadie says you love him.”

“I do.” She made no attempt to deny it. “I’ve been with him . . . that night when he left the institute reception early and again since he’s been injured.”

“How could you be with him when he’s been in Sick Bay all this time?”

“It’s too complicated to explain. The point is you’re going to be able to reach him very soon. The flooding is almost under control, and communications will be back online in a matter of minutes.”

He would have asked her how she knew, but the answer was obvious. Just as he drew breath without conscious thought, she was aware of everything that occurred on Seaview. 

He watched as she stepped closer to the table, absently trailing one insubstantial finger along the edge. Her eyes were downcast, an air of melancholy clinging to her slim shoulders. “It’s time for me to tell Lee goodbye. I’ll still sense him, here on the boat. He’s so impassioned about Seaview, it’s impossible not to be drawn to that fervor.” Her eyes flashed to his face, the hint of a bittersweet smile curving her lips. “Captain John Phillips was a good man, Admiral. I have warm memories of him, but they’re vague, sometimes fuzzy, because we had no true connection. He thought of Seaview in practical terms. He appreciated your boat for the marvel of technology she is, but he didn’t love her. As Lee does. I hope that makes sense.”

It did. What the hell did that say about his mental state and the way he’d been thinking lately?

He was, as she’d observed, a practical man. He could embrace the unknown, but always in a scrutinizing, what-makes-it-tick fashion. Ironically, when it came right down to it, Lee was far more practical, rarely acknowledging the metaphysical. Yet his wholly sensible captain was the one who’d bonded with an ancient spirit. 

“Why are you here?” he ventured at last.

“Because . . .” Her voice trailed away. Desperate, she wrung her hands, the misery in her eyes so acute, he felt her sorrow. It didn’t take much to put two and two together.

“He’s fallen in love with you, hasn’t he?”

“Yes.” Dejected, she nodded. “I’ve made a mess of things. I know I have to end it, but I’m worried about him, Admiral. If there were a way for us to be together, I would live with the consequences, but it isn’t possible. And it isn’t fair to Lee.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Be there for him.” 

She laid her hand over his. He felt only a whisper of air, her form without substance. Even so, something deeper streaked through him. Something intangible. Something metaphysical.  Damn, if she wasn’t changing how he viewed things. “I would do that anyway.”

“I know that. It’s just . . . there are so few people in his life, and even with those he trusts he’s guarded with his emotions. He’s afraid to show what he’s feeling. Long ago, he must have learned to bottle everything inside, and he’s never gotten past that. I don’t want to ruin Seaview for him. That was never my intent. He should feel exhilaration when he steps onto this boat, not depression or sadness for something that might have been. I don’t want him to associate Seaview with me.”

Harry exhaled heavily. He scratched an index finger along the curve of his eyebrow, sorting it through. “I’m not sure that’s possible. You are, after all, Seaview’s spirit. He’s still going to sense you, remember you. Given time, those memories will fade into fondness and love, not depression. If what you’ve told me is true, Lee is going to suffer some heartache over this. That’s only natural. You’re suffering now - - I can see it in your eyes.”

“I still have to end it.” She looked at her hands again. “It’s very hard for me to maintain physical form in your realm, Admiral. In truth, it’s not permitted. That’s why I seem wraith-like to you. Even this appearance…” She motioned to her body which had grown more transparent over the last few minutes. “…is becoming harder to sustain. I simply wanted you to know Lee is going to need you, and his friend Chip, a little more than usual when he recovers.” She tilted her head, smiling at him in a purely warm and affectionate way. “I’m very fond of you, Admiral Nelson. I have every faith you’ll take care of the man I love.”

Before he could reply, she pointed to the hand mike on the wall. “I would recommend contacting Commander Morton in Sick Bay now. Even your repair crews don’t realize it yet, but communications have just come back online. Within five minutes, damage control will be able to give you clear access to Sick Bay.” She turned away, sending a subdued glance over her shoulder. “I need that time with Lee.”

And just that quickly, she was gone.

Harry stood blinking at empty space, the echo of her voice resounding in his head. He’d sort through his feelings later. At the moment, all he cared about was whether or not communications had been restored. He snatched the mike from the wall, praying she was right. The thought of finally being able to reach Lee had his heart triple-timing in beat. 

“Commander Morton, this is Nelson. Come in.”

Harry held his breath and waited.

**********

Lee sat on a grassy bank, his legs drawn up to his chest, arms looped casually over his knees. He wore the same faded jeans and black shirt he’d had on before, the grass cool against his bare feet. A thin strip of sand stretched below him, ragged against the shoreline, blending into the gently rolling ebb of a wide bay. The sun sank on the horizon, turning the water into a milk bath of scarlet, tangerine and lilac-blue. Flecks of gold danced on the surface, coaxed to antique brass by the dying rays of the setting sun. Although the surroundings were beautiful and tranquil, he felt a mysterious sense of sadness as though something vital was coming to an end.

A warm breeze skimmed through the grass, tugging on the tails of his open shirt. He closed his eyes, feeling the phantom kiss of air against his face. When he looked again, the sun had vanished into the cradle of the earth, the sky draped with the grape-purple and smoky silver of twilight. He felt no shock to realize Mae was nestled close to his side.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” A fist closed over his heart, squeezing, until the pang of separation knifed through his chest. Just like the gradual demise of the sun, he knew their time together was nearing an end. Enchantment could only last so long before bowing to reality. He knew he was dangerously sick, trapped on Seaview, everything he experienced now nothing more than a bewitching dream.

“I’d stay with you forever if I could.” Mae rested her head on his shoulder. In the half-light, her hair glimmered with ivory and pearl, its wind-dusted scent intoxicating enough to make his head spin.

He wrapped his arms around her, inviting her to snuggle close to his chest. “I have to know . . . that night at the institute when you went home with me . . .” He wet his lips, afraid of the answer. “Was that real?”

She smiled up at him, her eyes jet-black and opaque like the deepest part of the ocean. He could no longer see her pupils, just darkness, water and light glimmering in her gaze. Her fingers skimmed over his face, pausing to caress his cheek. “I promise you it was real. I was real for those few precious hours. I will never forget them, Lee.”

She tilted her head back, inviting his kiss. Her lips were cool, not nearly as warm as he remembered, almost as though the heat slowly melted from her body. Still, she clung to him, wrapping one arm behind his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair. She whimpered softly, and the fire of passion surged between them, as kinetic as before.

“Don’t go,” he said thickly, drawing back just enough to look into her eyes. “There has to be a way…”

She shook her head. “I never should have come to you.” Pulling back, she sat up to face him. “Have you accepted who I am?”

He looked away, unwilling to acknowledge the truth. From the beginning, he’d known there was something familiar about her, a compelling link he couldn’t explain. His heart beat faster and for a minute the walls of Sick Bay materialized before him. Pain ripped through his side, staggering enough to make him grunt and jerk instinctively.

“Stay with me,” Mae said, touching his face.

The pain faded along with the familiar sights of Seaview. His senses were filled with the idyllic tranquility of the twilight-woven bay, but he knew it wasn’t real. He swallowed hard.

Mae wasn’t real.

“How can you be . . . who I think you are?” he asked clumsily.

She tilted her head. “Don’t you believe in enchantment, Lee? In miracles and masquerades?” She leaned forward, kissing him lightly. “The sea is part of who you are . . . a lifeblood. It’s why we share the bond we do. You love the ocean, but even more, you love the vessel which makes all that wonder and majesty accessible. I could have stayed dormant forever, content to lie in Seaview’s keel, but you drew me awake with your passion. Spirits are not permitted to take flesh and for that I must pay.”

“No!” Cold fear crashed over Lee. Done with games, he mentally accepted Mae as Seaview’s spirit. How many nights had he walked the boat and felt a presence shadowing him? Had Cadence Eldridge been trying to tell him the same thing all along? He didn’t understand the rules that governed mythological beings, he only knew he didn’t want Mae to suffer. “It isn’t fair. I’m as much to blame as you are…”

“It’s already done, Lee,” she interrupted quietly, sadly. She dipped her head, twining her hands in her lap. “Don’t you understand I’m the reason everything has happened? The reason you’re suffering even now?”

Confused, he could only stare.

Mae drew a shuddery breath. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she raised her head and met his eyes. “I told you I had to pay a penalty for taking human form. I would have willingly sacrificed anything for that one night together. Anything except you.”

“Mae, I don’t…”

“Listen to me.” She pressed her hand to his lips, silencing the protest. Her touch slid free and she fingered his collar lightly. “There are powers that rule my realm, just as there are laws that govern yours. When a rule is broken, a price must be paid. Didn’t you stop to wonder what triggered a quake in an area that rarely, if ever, experiences seismic activity?”

Lee was beginning to understand. “The shockwave?”

Mae nodded. “Hurting you was a far greater punishment than anything that might have been inflicted on me. Don’t you see, Lee - - I’m responsible for what happened to you.”

“No.” She might be a mythological being, a spirit inhabiting his boat, but he wasn’t going to buy it. “Mae, it was just coincidence, an accident. Anything could have triggered that quake, and ethylene oxide is unstable under the best conditions.”

“Circumstance mounting upon circumstance.” Frustrated, she shook her head. “When you sleep, I can make that sleep pleasant with dreams. Human form is beyond me now. I can still appear as a spirit, but it takes great effort and expenditure of energy. It’s easier for me to communicate with you like this. When you’re here with me, Lee, it is real, for this moment in time as far-fetched as that might seem.”

He touched her face. “But you’re not going to keep coming to me like this, are you?”

“No.” Saddened, she looked away. “It’s not healthy for either of us, especially you.” She reached for his hand, twining her fingers around his. “I wish I could be as brave as Cadence Eldridge and surrender this life for mortality, but as long as Seaview exists, I am bound to her.”

Lee blinked, momentarily sidetracked. “Cadence?”

“She was the spirit who inhabited the Cadence of the Sea. When the boat went down, she chose a mortal form and saved Sherman’s life. It why she suffers frail health, something I would gladly endure if it meant being with you. But Seaview is my life and blood, as much as she is yours. I know you will always cherish her, Lee.”

“There has to be a way.” Damn, it wasn’t fair! “Mae, I’m in love with you.”

“You’re in love with a masquerade. When this dream ends, I won’t come to you again.”

“Don’t say that!” Desperate, he pulled her close, crushing her in his arms. His mouth found hers, hungry for her kiss and the bewitching taste of moonshadow, sunlight and sea. He fisted a hand in her hair, drinking in her scent and the fading warmth of her body as she pressed against him. He wanted the moment to last for eternity but knew when he drew back she would be gone. “Stay with me,” he whispered against her lips.

Already the dream was fading, graying at the edges. “Mae . . .”

He moaned and someone pressed a hand against his forehead. “It’s all right, Lee. You’re going to be fine now.”

He blinked, gazing up into Jamie’s worried eyes. The doctor was standing at his side, working at securing a strap across his chest. Dazedly, he realized he was still in Sick Bay but that he’d been moved from the bunk to a gurney. There was a black medical bag resting near his feet and an IV pole with clear liquid dripping near his head. Only then did he become aware of the needle taped to the back of his hand. He wet his lips, his mouth dry. “Wh-when . . . .” His head felt fuzzy.

“Easy, lad.” This time it was Nelson who spoke. The admiral hovered on the opposite side of the gurney, his face drawn with worry. “Systems are back up, and we’re off the bottom. Chip insisted on being the one to ready the Flying Sub. We’ll have you to a hospital in nothing flat.”

“Mae . . .” Lee tried again.

Nelson looked uncomfortable. “Don’t talk now. Just rest.” He squeezed Lee’s shoulder. “Do you have any idea what a nasty scare you gave us?” He smiled slightly, but the concern remained unbridled in his gaze. “Chip’s in no condition to fly, so I’m going to take you to Pearl.”

Thinking of his friend made Lee squirm. Chip had done so much for him, helping him through the long hours of pain while battling his own exhaustion and the residual effects of the ethylene oxide. He had to make sure his friend was going to be all right, to insist he rest now and take care of himself. “I want to see him before I leave.”

“Sorry, Commander,” Jamie spoke up, “But it’s better if you sit this journey out. I’ll make sure Mister Morton gets the attention he needs.” As he spoke, he slid a needle into Lee’s arm, dispensing clear liquid from a plastic syringe. 

Lee opened his mouth to protest, but the narcotic hit him like a sledgehammer. Before he could form a single word, he tumbled into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**********

Harry lost all sense of time. He began to count hours by cups of coffee and cigarettes smoked. Lee was whisked into surgery almost the minute they landed in Pearl. There’d been a blood transfusion which resulted in even more waiting, his ever-restless impatience getting the better of him. Eventually, Lee was moved to recovery, and he got an update from the doctor.

The wound had been thoroughly cleaned and sutured with Lee placed on intravenous antibiotics to ward against infection. He was alarmingly weak from the blood loss, but the transfusion was expected to help, along with several iron supplements that would be worked into his diet beginning tomorrow. He was still battling a fever, but it had dropped considerably through the aggressive use of intravenous fluids and medication. All in all, given he’d suffered several hours with limited medical attention after the injury, he was doing remarkably well.

Harry allowed himself a contented exhale then went in search of a phone to contact Seaview.

**********

Lee stirred, groggy and disoriented. The last thing he remembered was being with Mae, followed by a brief flash of Sick Bay. He thought he remembered Jamie and the admiral fussing over him, but the images were scrambled like bits of dream that kept slipping from his mental grasp. He woke in darkness, a splash of onion-pale moonlight the only illumination in an otherwise shadow-wrapped room. The glow seeped through the slats of a vertical blind, leaving pencil-thin bands angled over the foot of his bed. With a vague sense of distraction he realized he was in a hospital. A sharp medicinal smell wormed into his hazy consciousness, tugging him toward full awareness. 

That was when the pain hit.

He moaned softly, twisting his head on the pillow. Someone touched his forehead, smoothing the hair back from his brow.

“Easy, Lee,” a familiar voice said. 

Nelson’s voice. It was a lifeline amid muddled confusion. He swallowed hard, attempting to focus. “Where . . .?” he croaked hoarsely. He felt the admiral’s fingers slip from his hair as the older man sat down in a chair. Belatedly, Lee realized the metal handrails were raised to keep him from falling from the bed and that the admiral had been standing, bending over him, drawn no doubt by his mumble of pain.

“You’re in Pearl,” Nelson told him quietly. “You just came out of surgery. They have you on some heavy pain medication but warned you were still going to have discomfort. I can call the nurse if you need something stronger.”

“No.” The last thing he wanted was more drugs. It felt like he hadn’t been in his right mind for days. His eyes slid to the side, seeking out Nelson. “How long?” he managed, wrapping a hand around the railing to steady himself. 

“It doesn’t matter. Just go back to sleep.”

He grunted what he thought of the idea and tried to scrunch higher on the pillows. The pain in his side had dimmed from the molten fire of Sick Bay to a steady, pulsing throb. If he wasn’t careful, it would be enough to send the room into a sickening reel.

“Here . . . ease back.” Seeing he was uncomfortable, Nelson stood and adjusted the pillows behind him. He placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, gently guiding, helping him settle into the inviting softness. 

Lee groaned appreciatively.

“I take it that’s better?” Nelson’s blue eyes danced brightly in the darkness, his smile an encouraging flash of white.

Lee nodded, slackening his convulsive hold on the railing. He braced an arm across his middle, seeking to mute the sting in his side. It suddenly dawned on him it had to be well past midnight, creeping toward morning. “What . . . what are you doing here?” he asked with a befuddled glance for his superior officer.

Nelson chuckled. “Did you think I was just going to drop you off then vanish?” He settled back into his chair again, adjusting it so he was facing Lee. “There are a lot of people back on Seaview expecting updates on you practically every hour, including Jamie. He stayed behind to treat the minor casualties we had, and because Sick Bay itself is a shambles - - otherwise you’d still be there and he’d be fussing over you instead of several base doctors.” He grinned. “I suddenly find myself in the role of messenger.” 

Lee winced, misinterpreting his humor. “Admiral, there’s no need for you to stay.”

Nelson sighed, the weary exhale indicating he had expected the reaction. Expected, but had hoped to find himself proven wrong. “Lee, did it ever occur to you that I might want to stay? That maybe I was worried about you and wanted to make sure you were going to be all right?”

Lee felt an unexpected surge of warmth. “I’m fine.” The answer was immediate, pure reflex.

“I could have laid money you were going to say that.” Nelson shook his head, but his frustration was heavily laced with affection. “I’d hold off trying that out on Jamie until you have some color in your face. You’ll come across marginally believable that way.”

Lee frowned, but his ill-humor grudgingly gave way to mild amusement. He didn’t know why he was so defensive when it came to his health, immediately falling into his patented ‘I’m fine’ routine when it was plainly obvious he wasn’t. He’d just spent several hours with a high fever and a hole ripped in his side, battling a constant torrent of pain that should have put him under. He’d just come from surgery, had barely gotten his wits about him, and now expected Nelson to believe he was functioning normally. Sheepishly, he looked at his hands. “You’re not buying it, are you?”

Nelson pursed his lips as if he had to give the matter serious thought. “No.” 

When Lee looked again he saw the older man was grinning and allowed himself a small smile in return. Only half aware of what he was doing, he grabbed the blankets and tugged them closer. “Do you think it’s cold in here?”

“No. But then you’ve just had a blood transfusion which probably explains why you do.” Nelson stood and moved to a closet in the corner of the room. 

He switched on a light, the sudden brightness making Lee’s pupils contract sharply. Just as quickly, the glare was doused, the room once again plunged into soothing shadow. Lee heard footsteps then felt a fluttering influx of warmth as Nelson returned and settled a blanket over him. Grateful, he tugged it up around his shoulders. “Service from a four-star admiral,” he joked. “Maybe I should do this more often.”

“Not a chance.” Nelson leveled a warning finger at him. “You even think about putting me through the hell of the last few hours over again, Mister, and you’ll be walking the plank.”

Lee grinned. His eyes drooped, the extra warmth acting as a narcotic to mute the sting of pain and usher him toward sleep. He rather liked hearing that gruff aggravation in Nelson’s voice. It told him the older man cared, cared deeply, and that was something he was still adjusting to. “How’s Chip?” he asked. 

“Resting. Which is what you should be doing.”

Lee continued as if he hadn’t heard, his eyes heavy. “I wouldn’t have made it without him,” he mumbled. His friend had taken exceptional care of him. Yes, that’s what friends did, but Chip always went above and beyond, putting Lee’s welfare before his own. His concern far surpassed that of an executive officer for his captain, though that was surely part of it. Rather, he let friendship guide him, the ever-strengthening bond of two men from radically divergent backgrounds who’d first clicked as teenagers. “Chip wasn’t feeling well,” he tried to explain. “The ethylene oxide . . .”

“Trust me, Lee. Chip’s received the best care. Can you imagine Jamie doing any less?”

He smiled sleepily. Of course not. Jamie would have been all over Chip like a bloodhound. It was almost entertaining to think of his unflappable exec being bullied by the doctor. Usually he was the one on the receiving end of Jamie’s lectures and stern instructions for recovery. 

He shifted slightly, easing onto his right side and tucked his hand under the pillow. He felt the blanket slither from his shoulder but before he could move, the admiral tugged it back into place. His eyes slipped shut of their own accord. He heard the chair squeak as Nelson settled into it, preparing to spend the night. Lee started to drift and stubbornly fought to hang on.

“Was there . . . was there anyone else in Sick Bay?” he asked, only half aware of how odd the question sounded. His head was filled with memories of sun-dusted eel grass, a sparkling bay and a slender woman with white-gold hair. He felt a pang in his heart that told him he’d never be able to go back to that place.

“Anyone else?” Nelson sounded disconcerted.

He was crashing fast. “Mae . . .”

Nelson laid a hand over his wrist where it rested on the bed. “Go to sleep, lad.”

Lee crumpled into darkness and the engulfing void of a dreamless sleep.

**********

Five days.

Lee winced, forcing himself to sit straighter. After nearly a week confined to the hospital, he’d grown maddeningly restless. If only the damn gash below his ribs would stop hurting every time he shifted. At least the cut to his arm was tolerable, if heavily bandaged. He’d been weaned off intravenous drugs but still needed twice-daily doses of Darvocet just to function - - mainly because of the damage he’d done when he’d ripped that cursed piece of metal from his side. 

“I told you, you should have left it alone,” Chip had said. 

Chip had said a lot of things since arriving in Pearl two days ago, but Lee couldn’t really fault him. Now that his friend knew he was going to be okay, Chip had read him the riot act on basic first aid, impaling wounds, and stupidity. Lee had let him rant - - he owed him that much. He knew Chip had been scared witless, not to mention physically ill when he’d been caring for him. If it hadn’t been for Chip, he wasn’t sure he would have made it through those long, agonizing hours.

Chip and Mae.

Unwilling to think about her, Lee shoved the thought aside. He wanted to walk, to get out of bed and hobble down the hallway if for nothing other than the pure satisfaction of being mobile. Unfortunately, the nursing staff still insisted he have someone with him when he engaged in his shambling forays. Over the last two days, he’d shuffled along with Chip, Jamie, the admiral, and even Kowalski once when the senior rating had popped in unexpectedly to see him. He could still remember Ski’s surprise when he’d told the younger man he was drafting him for “walking duty.”

He’d read all the newspapers and magazines he could stomach, inundated with them from the crew and command personnel who’d made it their mission in life to keep him occupied. Updates on the boat were another matter, glaringly infrequent, mostly generic when he managed to get them at all.

Shuffling up and down the hallway with Ski gave him the chance to wheedle information from the talkative rating. Lee knew the admiral, Jamie and even Chip, fed him only what they wanted him to hear, not wishing to upset him. Ski was much easier to deal with. If Lee couldn’t coerce information from him, he simply made it an order. For the most part that wasn’t necessary.

Until it came to Mitchell Blake.

Even Kowalski had been reluctant to tell him everything that had transpired with his stepfather. Eventually, however, Lee learned of Mitchell’s sabotage and the fact the admiral had thrown him into the brig. He grinned over that one, remembering Nelson’s caution to him about overreacting. This time, however, the punishment was justified, and the flash of humor he got from the situation was short-lived. Mitchell wanting to make him look bad was expected. Mitchell deliberately endangering Seaview and her crew was something he couldn’t forgive.

Kowalski told him Sherman Eldridge had washed his hands of the man and that Mitchell had been remanded to base security the moment Seaview put into Pearl. The knowledge had given Lee pause, and he’d spent most of the night ruminating over it. As much as he could appreciate the admiral’s position, he couldn’t help thinking what the ugly publicity would do to his mother. Although it galled him, he planned on addressing the issue with Nelson, hoping there was some other way to handle the matter.

Frustrated by his confinement, Lee gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his robe. Jamie had thought to bring his standard white pajamas, slippers, and pine green robe for which Lee was eternally grateful. Walking up and down the hallway in a hospital gown had its drawbacks.

He bit down on his lip, wincing against a flare of pain, and slid his feet into the brown slippers positioned by the head of the bed. 1400 hours. He needed a walk. The hell with having someone act as escort. He stood, irked he was still stiff and sore, and grabbed his robe from the bedside chair. He was in the process of belting it shut when he heard footsteps in the hall.

A second later, Chip Morton appeared in the doorway, looking glaringly fit in his crisp khaki uniform, hat tucked under his arm. Their eyes locked, and Lee mentally braced himself for the retort he saw coming.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Chip demanded.

“Going for a walk.”

“You’re supposed to wait for help.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” Lee injected mildly.

“I wasn’t supposed to be.”

He really couldn’t argue with that. When he’d seen Chip yesterday, his friend had told him he probably wouldn’t be able to clear his schedule until closer to 1700 hours. Lee shrugged, knowing he didn’t have a leg to stand on. “You try sitting on your butt for five days and see how cooperative you are.” Pressing a hand to his side, he hobbled toward the door. It helped if he applied light pressure to the healing wound. “Come on - - take me for a stroll.” He didn’t wait to see if Chip followed but continued into the hallway, casting a grin over his shoulder.

Chip parted with an exasperated exhale, tossed his hat onto the bed, then fell in beside him. “I guess all this attitude means you’re feeling better?”

Lee came straight to the point. “I want to get out of here, Chip. I can rest just as easily on Seaview, and we can get back to Santa Barbara earlier. Jamie’s practically taken over my care as it is, and I’ve been off the IVs for over two days now.”

“You’re making your case to the wrong person, Lee.”

“Then talk to Jamie. He won’t listen to me.”

“I have. So has the admiral.” Chip shot him an arched glance. “And you didn’t hear it from me, but I think Jamie might spring you tomorrow. Listening to you whine nonstop about ‘confinement’ is enough to drive anyone insane.”

Lee grinned. He actually felt good. Dropping his hand from his side, he continued down the hall, Chip at his shoulder. He’d gotten used to the medicinal smell, the sound of the nurses’ rubber-soled shoes against the tile floor, even the squeak of the rolling lab cart, but he’d never get used to the square bland box that comprised his room. He wanted to be back on his boat, back at sea, if only for the short journey home.

“Chip . . .” Abruptly pensive, Lee wet his lips. “I never really thanked you for what you did for me in Sick Bay. Not properly, anyway.” He shot his friend a candid glance. It was good seeing Chip so fit again, the spark back in his river-blue eyes. “I’m not sure I would have pulled through if you hadn’t been there.”

“Sure you would have. You’re a survivor.” But Chip grinned, appreciating the compliment. “To think all I wanted originally was a stomach antacid. I’ll never eat Cookie’s chicken-fried steak again.”

Lee gave a short laugh. “Maybe I will. I owe him for sending you to Sick Bay.”

Chip slid a hand onto his shoulder and gave a fond squeeze. “Let’s not make a habit of it, okay? I think I’ve had all the drama I can take for a few days.”

Lee nodded. He felt the same.

But, as always, he couldn’t help thinking about Mae.

**********

It was late, just after 2300, when Harry finally made it to the base hospital. Visiting hours had long since ended, but four-star rank carried its privileges. He knew Lee would likely be sleeping but he wouldn’t be able to rest easy until he knew his captain continued to improve. He’d pop his head in the door, see for himself that Lee was fine, then call it a night. He’d been tied up most of the last two days trying to decide how to handle Mitchell without having a backlash of publicity and fallout that would create havoc for Lee and his mother. He’d also spoken with Sherman Eldridge, making plans for a future date to continue Sherman’s original research once everything blew over. He’d even talked at length with Cadie, learning more about her choice to become human. 

“Mae doesn’t have that option,” she’d told him. “Not as long as Seaview exists. She is part of your boat, Admiral, and therefore must remain with the vessel as long it has physical form. Lee may need help in understanding and accepting that.”  

Lee hadn’t said much of anything about Mae since regaining consciousness. Then again, he wasn’t really aware anyone else knew about her. Harry had been careful to avoid mentioning her for fear he would upset the younger man. His main focus was to get his commander out of the hospital and on the road to a full recovery. Now that Lee no longer needed IV pain medication, Harry hoped to see him discharged shortly.

“Good evening, Admiral Nelson.” A nurse smiled politely as she passed him in the hallway. 

He nodded absently, intent on reaching Room 541. He’d at least meant to pick up the phone and call but somehow just being in Pearl had resulted in unplanned meetings and video conferences. Exhaling wearily, he riddled a hand through his hair. He would be glad when Seaview was headed back to Santa Barbara. He would be especially glad when Lee was out of the blasted hospital.

At the end of the hallway, he turned a corner and craned his neck to see into the room. He expected to find it dark, but Lee had the light above the bed dimmed to the lowest setting. The overheads were off, draping most of the room in shadow. The captain sat upright, his shoulders propped up by pillows, the blankets folded down below his waist. He had one hand pressed to his side where Harry knew a thick bandage was hidden by Lee’s white pajamas. Completely oblivious to Harry’s presence, he stared moodily into space.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” Harry said as way of greeting.

Lee gave a conscious start, snapping from his thoughts. Surprised, he glanced toward the door. “Admiral. Isn’t it a little late for social calls?”

“That depends.” Stepping into the room, Harry tossed his hat onto the bedside table and thumbed open the bottom of his uniform coat. “If you don’t feel up to company…”

“No, Sir, I didn’t mean that. I just didn’t expect to see you here so late.”

“I should have been here earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t make it.”

“I’m sure you had more important things to do than watch paint dry.”

Harry grinned, easing into the bedside chair. “Should I take it that means you’re bored, Commander?” 

Lee shrugged moodily, his eyes dipping. He’d been careful to sit straighter, no longer holding his side as if fearful that would make him appear ill. “I’d like to get out of here,” he mumbled.

Harry chuckled. That was probably the understatement of the year. His energetic captain had never been one to sit on the sidelines, even when he wasn’t feeling up to par. Lee routinely chafed at any confinement and was likely making the medical staff miserable for his forced captivity. He could still see signs of discomfort on the younger man’s face, but his pain level was more easily managed than when he’d first been admitted. “You didn’t hear it from me, but Jamie has been talking to your doctors and you’ll be out of here tomorrow morning.”

Lee shot him a sideways glance, his expression snared between hope and doubt. “Jamie hasn’t said a word to me.”

“Well, you know how he is, Lee. He worries about you. He probably just didn’t want to get your hopes up in case there were complications.”

“Sir, I’m fine…”

Nelson held up a hand to stop the protest. Lee’s ‘I’m fine’ was rote, even if now slightly more believable than it had been a few days ago. “How is your pain level today? And don’t tell me it’s fine.”

“Will ‘tolerable’ suffice?” Lee snapped testily.

Harry grinned, pleased to hear his commander’s innate willfulness blunder through. Yes, Lee was definitely on the road to recovery.

Seeing his reaction, Lee sighed. He bowed his head, pressing his fingertips to his temple. “I’m sorry, Admiral. I didn’t mean to snap. I just…”

“You don’t need to explain. My temper would be short too if I were cooped up in here day after day.” He hesitated, deciding to fish a little. “But that’s not all that’s bothering you, is it?”

Lee hedged, his expression abruptly wary. “I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“Let’s start with your stepfather,” Harry decided. “He hasn’t been to see you.”

“I didn’t expect he would.”

“Do you know why?”

“Aside from the fact he detests me? Admiral, while you and Chip have avoided telling me anything you think might upset me these last several days, I’m not without my sources.”

Harry grimaced. “Kowalski.” He had known sooner or later the news of Mitchell’s sabotage would make its way back to Lee. And given his covertly sly commander, he’d wager Lee had wheedled the information from Ski before the rating even knew what he’d given up.   

Lee simply held his gaze, waiting. 

“You’ve been careful not to address it,” Harry pointed out. “I figured you’d be on the phone to me the moment you learned the truth.” He delayed a beat. “Your mother will have to be told. It’s not going to be pleasant, Lee.”

“I know that.” The younger man’s voice dropped a notch, and he lowered his eyes again. Harry had the distinct impression it wasn’t simply emotional discomfort he was feeling, but physical pain too. It was late, Lee needed to sleep, and the wound was no doubt giving him grief, though stubbornly, he’d never admit it. 

“We can leave this for tomorrow,” Harry suggested.

“No.” Lee pressed his lips into a tight line. “Sir, it galls me to have to say this, but isn’t there some way you could forego charges against Mitchell?”

“Because of your mother?”

Lee nodded. “She’s going to have to learn the truth, but I’d rather it not be in a public forum. Sherman’s already released Mitchell from his institute. He’s going to have to struggle to regain credibility as it is. Seaview isn’t just any boat. I don’t want to put my mother through the spectacle of a media circus.”

Lee’s reaction shouldn’t have surprised him. It was, after all, in line with what he’d been doing most of his life. “You’re still protecting her,” he observed. “Just like you did all those years of staying silent when Mitchell hurt you - - and I don’t mean physically, Lee.”

Lee blinked, surprised.

“Mitchell and I had a talk,” Harry explained. He frowned sourly. “Or rather, he ranted like a madman and I listened. I couldn’t believe the vile things he said about you, the bastard. I wouldn’t object if he took a long walk off a short pier.” Muttering, Harry shook his head. “Did you know he was in love with your mother before Grayson even met her?”

“I expected something like that.” Lee glanced at his hands, his expression veiled. 

Harry was much too astute and knew his introspective commander far too well not to recognize Lee’s withdrawal. “All those years of growing up under Mitchell’s thumb, you let him say things about you - - horrible things. About your father too. And you never told your mother.”

Lee’s eyes remained downcast, but the corner of his mouth tightened. “I didn’t let him talk about my father that way.”

“No.” Harry nodded soberly. “I don’t imagine you did.” The Lee Crane he knew would have vehemently defended Grayson, and that blind devotion would have only made Mitchell hate him all the more. Blake was a verbal abuser not a physical tyrant, but Harry didn’t doubt the bastard had raised his hand against Lee more than once. And still Lee had said nothing, unwilling to topple the fragile world his mother built on a foundation as flimsy as a house of cards.

“Lee . . .” Harry wet his lips, knowing his captain’s internal misery was something he had to sort through on his own. “Mitchell had no right to transfer his hatred of Grayson to you. I met your father. He was far more a man than Mitchell Blake will ever be, as are you. Don’t you think it’s time you let the world - - and your mother - - see Blake for who he really is?”

Lee’s gaze flashed to his face. “Do you think I want to protect that smug S.O.B? I’ve taken his shit for twenty-four years.”

“Then do something about it.”

“I will not subject my mother to public disgrace, Admiral Nelson. I realize Mitchell can’t walk away from this scot-free, but I’m asking you to drop the sabotage charges. Mitchell will deny what he told you if it comes to a trial, and given everything else that took place at the same time, including the quake, a good lawyer is going to turn the whole thing into a he-said/he-said fiasco. Mitchell can afford the best. My mother will be caught in the middle, between her son and her husband. If anyone other than me on Seaview had been seriously hurt, I’d feel differently, but I’m asking that you to let this be resolved quietly.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You want your mother to remain married to a man who would do something that devious and underhanded?”

“No. I’m going to tell her the truth. Mitchell’s credibility has already been destroyed. He’ll suffer disgrace among his peers - - and trust me - - in Mitchell’s eyes, that’s the worst condemnation he could have. My mother won’t stand beside him. Not after this, but I’d like to give her the dignity of divorcing him quietly.” He shook his head, rubbing the fingertips of both hands against his temples. “Maybe if I’d been honest with her about how he treated me all those years ago, this wouldn’t be happening now.”

Harry felt an impulsive spike of anger. “Don’t even think about shifting the blame to yourself, Commander.”

Lee dropped his hands, sagging back into the pillows. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Harry frowned, hearing the underlying misery in his voice. He needed to have his fool head examined for what he was about to say. If it were anyone other than Lee, he’d be taking a hardnosed stance, but damn it, he couldn’t help himself. As always, Lee remained the exception to every rule. Jiggs Starke is right. I do indulge him too much, but I’m not about to stop now.

“I’ll drop the charges and have Mitchell released tomorrow. But…” He held up a menacing finger when Lee glanced at him in surprise. “…I will not have that worthless bastard on my boat or anywhere near you. He’ll have to take a flight home. Understood?”

Lee grinned broadly - - the kind of dazzling smile Harry hadn’t seen from him in a long time. Flecks of toasted amber and jade danced in his eyes. “Thank you, Sir.”

Harry pressed his lips together, giving a gruff nod. It wouldn’t do to let Lee know his ridiculously blinding smiles were as potent as any argument. All the man had to do was grin like that, and Harry felt his annoyance slipping away. No one deserved public humiliation more than Mitchell did, but all the logic and arguments in the world were worthless when stacked against one of Lee’s show-stopping smiles. It made him realize how much he missed seeing that kind of effortless delight from his introspective captain. “I think you should get some sleep now,” he suggested. He started to stand.

“Wait . . . Sir . . .”  Lee hedged, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

Harry hesitated, hovering at the edge of the bed. “What is it?”

“Seaview . . .” Lee cleared his throat, uncomfortable. Absently, he twisted the ring on his left hand, a telltale indicator he was troubled. “Have all the repairs been made?”

Harry nodded, uncertain why that would send his commander’s anxiety level ratcheting higher. “We can put to sea the moment you’re out of here.”

“Is she . . . the boat,” Lee clarified. “. . . is she different at all?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “In what way?” But he already knew what his young captain was angling for. Mae’s not the one for you, lad. Let her go.

“Nothing.” Lee managed a feeble smile. Making a visible effort to dismiss the matter, he dragged the blankets up to his chest. “Goodnight, Admiral.”

Harry doused the light. “Goodnight, Lee. Sleep well.”     

When the sun rose, Seaview would still be waiting.

**********

The boat was empty. Or mostly empty. They’d been docked in Santa Barbara for two hours now, all but a few straggling crewmembers having disembarked. Lee walked down corridor D, feeling a heavy emptiness settle over him. He’d talked to Sherman and Cadie Eldridge at length, but even learning specific details about the rules governing ship spirits didn’t ease the sting of heartache. He could still sense Mae’s presence in an intangible way, but that bond was different now, reverting to the usual connection he’d always felt to the boat. The pang of star-crossed love still lingered in his heart, but Mae was gone. The woman he’d held in his arms and made love to on a bed of sun-warmed grass no longer existed.  

Mae wasn’t coming back.

Increasingly glum, Lee made his way to the observation nose. He was glad to find the control room deserted, the silence fitting his mood. He propped a shoulder against the bulkhead, folded his arms over his chest, and watched the bustle of activity occurring beyond the herculite windows. The docking crew was busy unloading crates while several members of security patrolled nearby, checking off N.I.M.R. base personnel and departing Seaview crewmembers who were no doubt looking forward to a long week of shore liberty.  

He couldn’t say the same for himself. He’d already called his mother from Pearl, the conversation contributing to his bleak mood. He’d hated hearing her cry. By now, Mitchell would have already returned to Rhode Island and the perfectly-constructed sham world his mother so painstakingly built, would be crumbling. He’d planned to fly out later that evening, unwilling to let her face it alone but she’d refused.  

“I made this mess, Lee,” she’d told him. “It’s time I took responsibility for it.”

He didn’t like the idea of her confronting Mitchell alone, but also knew his stepfather was blindly devoted to his mother and would never lay a hand on her. The divorce would be hard on both of them, but Mitchell would never conceive of blaming Ellen Crane. The dissolution of his marriage would only serve to give him another reason to hate Lee. If there was blame to be had, he would dump it at Lee’s feet.

And silently harbor a need for revenge.

“There you are.”

Lee jerked from his thoughts, startled by the clatter of Chip’s shoes descending the spiral stairs. Grinning, his friend joined him by the windows.

“The admiral says I’m to kick you out of here. He doesn’t want to see you anywhere near your office at the institute for a few days either. You might be down to one dose of Darvocet, but the general consensus is you need a break.”

Like he didn’t see that one coming. “Whose consensus?”

“Mine.” Chip grinned sharply. “Jamie’s. The Admiral’s. The crew’s. Give me a few minutes and I’ll poll the med staff at Pearl via vid phone. I’m not sure who was happier to see you leave - - you or them.”

“I could do without the sarcasm.” Scowling, Lee pushed away from the bulkhead. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

Chip blinked owlishly. “Whatever gave you that idea? Just because I get to push you around a bit - - Captain - - with the admiral’s blessing, doesn’t mean I have an ulterior motive. Like getting you to rest and actually taking care of yourself for a change.”

“I’m fi…”

“Yeah, I know,” Chip stalled him before he could spit the word out. “You’re fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Where have I heard that one before? Take some advice, Lee, and cut yourself some slack. If I had all that free time on my hands, I’d take advantage of it. Why don’t you look up that woman . . . Maggie . . . Mary . . .” He fished for the correct name. “The one you were so hot about before we left port?”

“Mae,” Lee corrected automatically. He blanched.

“You feeling okay?” Chip leaned forward, alerted by his sudden lack of color. “I think you should sit down.” He hooked a hand just below Lee’s elbow, intending to guide him to a chair but the younger man waved him off.

“I’ll be okay, Chip. I just…” He stopped abruptly, halted by the arrival of Admiral Nelson in the control room. Lee glanced up in time to see his superior officer enter through the hatch at the opposite end.

“You’re still here?” Nelson sounded annoyed. 

There was little doubt who he was referring to, which had Lee scrambling for a suitable explanation. He motioned toward the windows. “I was watching the unloading.”

“As fascinating as that is, Captain, it’s nothing you haven’t seen a hundred times over.” He paused, frowning as he took in Lee’s ashen appearance. “Where’s your gear?”

“In my cabin.”

“Packed?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

That at least met with a glimmer of approval. Nelson nodded. Lowering his voice, he inclined his head toward Seaview’s executive officer. “Chip, would you . . .”

“I’ll take care of it, Sir,” the blond-haired man replied with obvious satisfaction. “And I’ll make sure he gets home - - after he’s eaten something.”

Lee bit his tongue, miffed to find himself discussed as if he had no input. Chip’s unexpected reference to Mae had shaken him, but he had himself under control again. “I can take care of myself,” he snapped.

“That’s a matter of opinion, and in this case yours doesn’t count.” Chip pivoted on his heel and headed toward the stairs. “Ten minutes,” he called over his shoulder. “We’ll stop for dinner, then I’ll take you home.”

Lee dragged a hand over his face. “I swear that man has an evil streak,” he muttered. 

Nelson chuckled. “He’s as bad as Jamie when it comes to looking after you. Here…” He motioned to a chair. “Sit down. I want to talk to you.”

Lee complied, thinking how his long-time friend and the doctor weren’t the only two who’d made it their lot in life to look out for his welfare. The man who sat down across from him might be a bit more discreet about it, but he was just as tenacious, sometimes more so. And when his very limited temper kicked in, Nelson was bluntly to the point. Lee was therefore surprised to see the older man shift uncomfortably as if uncertain how to begin.

“Admiral? What was it you wanted?”

“Well . . .” Nelson cleared his throat and dragged a hand over the back of his neck. “I just thought you should know that I’ve, uh . . . I’ve met Mae.” He shot Lee a searching glance, waiting for a reaction. When it didn’t come, he prodded deeper. “I thought you might need someone to talk to about her.”

What little color Lee managed to regain in the last few minutes, drained from his face. His heart triple-timed in beat, catapulting into his throat. “You . . . you met…” he stammered, unable to get the words out. He wasn’t sure if he should feel elation or jealousy. If Mae could appear to the admiral, then why couldn’t she… “When?” he demanded.

“Before we reached you in Sick Bay.”

Lee deflated. “I thought maybe . . .” He shrugged and raked a hand through his hair. “I’d hoped you meant…”

“Lee, she told me she wouldn’t come back,” Nelson inserted quietly, interpreting where his thoughts were headed. “She was afraid you wouldn’t be able to accept that or understand it.”

“Understanding and accepting are two different things.” Aggravated, Lee stood and paced to the windows. Since waking up in Pearl, he’d fought a mental battle, telling himself he hadn’t really been in love, but the truth was he’d completely surrendered his heart. Every time he thought of her, it was with a deep pang of loss. 

“Are you sorry it happened?” Nelson stood, but remained by his chair.

His back turned, Lee shook his head. “No,” he admitted quietly. As much as it hurt, he treasured having someone love him like that . . . being able to love so intimately in return. “Sometimes I think I still feel her presence on Seaview.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Cadence Eldridge told me Mae is still here, that I just can’t sense her the way I used to. Even that doesn’t change what we had.”

“Maybe that has to be enough, Lee.”

He nodded. It wasn’t the answer his heart wanted, but the one his mind had to accept. Before he could say anything further, Chip came back down the stairs, Lee’s duffle bag slung over his arm. “Taxi’s leaving, Captain Crane. The driver expects a good tip.”

Shoving aside his melancholy, Lee focused on his friend’s impish grin.

“You being the driver?”

“Who else?”

Lee parted with a muffled snort. “Admiral, maybe I’ll just wait and ride home with you.”

Nelson pointed a finger toward the control room and the ladder to the conning tower. “Out! Now.”

“Yes, Sir.” Lee gave a deliberately sloppy salute and beckoned his friend. “Come on, Chip. If you promise to get me home in one piece, I’ll spring for dinner.”

“Deal.” The blond-haired man fell in beside him. “By the way,” he said nonchalantly. “Exactly what was that woman’s name you were so hot about?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Lee exchanged a brief glance with the admiral before shifting his attention back to Chip. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again.”

“Great. Maybe I’ll look her up.”

Lee knew Chip was only kidding, but the banter went a long way to easing the constrictive hold on his heart. Some things in life were simply pretense, but others - - like the steadfast devotion of two staunchly loyal friends - - could never be mistaken for a masquerade.

*****End*****

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