Sea and Sky

By Kate

This is a WHN for the second season episode “Monster from Outer Space.” A mention or two of one of my previous O.C.’s but you don’t have to be familiar with the characters or stories in my on-going arc. This one stands on its own.

Thanks to my wonderful betas, Theresa, Liz and Diane K. Comments welcome at veniceplace12@verizon.net

The stark light of reality left no room for monsters, but horrific creatures were an acknowledged rite of passage. Every child imagined a hobgoblin or ogre at one time or another - - lurking under the bed, hiding in the closet or skulking under the stairs. But adults knew better. They understood the deformed shape in the corner was really just a pile of clothes tossed over a chair, that the thing beneath the steps was an old broom draped with discarded rags. How easily shadows and night distorted everyday objects into creatures fantastical and frightening to an impressionable mind.

Lee Crane wasn’t a child, but he had encountered a monster.

Up close. Personally. Violently.

Closing the door to his cabin, Lee sank against the bulkhead and unknotted his tie, thankful his watch was over. The hours had crept by at an agonizingly slow pace, an unusual turn of events given he normally treasured every moment he spent on Seaview. He’d felt a gratifying sense of satisfaction when the space capsule the sub had retrieved from the ocean bottom was safely aboard the carrier Huron and his own boat was headed back to Santa Barbara. He’d worried about the crew, but they were functioning remarkably well given everyone had been on the receiving end of a residual electrical charge. When it came right down to it, he was the only one experiencing any kind of latent problem, but he’d been careful to keep that troubling bit of knowledge to himself. The nosebleeds and dizziness would pass. It was simply taking longer for him to snap back. Could be the problems he was experiencing weren’t even related to the creature that returned with the capsule but something viral he’d picked up. 

It was just hard to forget he’d surrendered control, submitting his will to an alien being. He still wasn’t entirely certain what it had been - - a sentient life form, a beast, a living organism.

A monster.

Except monsters didn’t exist.

Tired, he dropped his tie on his desk and sat on his bunk to pull off his shoes. He reclined on the mattress fully clothed, too exhausted to bother with undressing and crawling under the blankets. Maybe later. When the room stopped spinning and the throbbing in his temples didn’t make him squint against the light. For now all he wanted to do was close his eyes and forget that something foreign had ever been in his head, controlling his actions and thoughts, stripping him of his will. He’d fought violently - - that much he remembered - - resisting the invasion to the point where the struggle had nearly cost him his life. The pain had been brutal, the aftermath devastating. 

He’d functioned when the thing finally released him, but he’d been a shell, broken and damaged, forced to share his mind with a creature that repelled him . . . subjected to the whim of something he opposed and despised, hunting friends like prey. Even then he’d done what he could, attempting to make the surrender of the admiral and the chief as painless as possible. He hadn’t wanted either man to experience the agony he’d endured. It was all he had left to give. And so he’d begged his tormentor:  I’ll deliver them to you. You’ve left me no choice. But let me do it my way so they won’t suffer. Please. I can make it easier for them.

His pleading and the memory of his suffering had amused the monster and so it indulged him like a king granting leniency to a pet pawn. Play your little games, it had whispered in his mind, and he’d been dutifully grateful. It galled him to feel gratitude for the very thing that manipulated him against his will, but for Nelson and Sharkey he humbled himself. It had preened under his servitude, gloating that the human who’d fought it the hardest was now bowed with deferential respect.

He hadn’t cared. He’d done what he could, but in the end it hadn’t been enough. In the end, the thing had ordered him to destroy his two friends, and he’d had no will left to argue. 

He winced, reliving the moment when he’d given the order to kill. He’d pleaded with Nelson, tried to make him understand - - I’m not in command. It is! He’d hated himself for that weakness because, like Nelson, it was his nature to fight. Except he’d fought and lost just like everyone else on board the sub. And that was something he was having a hard time swallowing. It rubbed against the grain of who he was.

He flung an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light, too tired to rouse himself and switch it off.

Dr. Park Madison had given them all vitamin shots after Nelson had dispatched the alien and, for most of the crew, the injections were working. The doctor was standing in for Jamie who’d remained behind to attend a niece’s wedding. Lee had sailed with Madison once before and knew him to be a competent doctor, but he didn’t have the same rapport with the man he did with Jamie. The vitamin shot had done little for him. His stamina continued to dwindle, he was having difficulty focusing, and the damn nosebleeds and dizzy spells which started early that morning were getting worse. All probably par for the course after getting zapped with a fraction of the 20,000 volts Nelson had pumped into the alien. That much juice was bound to do some damage. Had Jamie been aboard, Lee might have run the side effects he was experiencing by the doctor, but he was less inclined to admit those weaknesses to Madison. In all likelihood he’d be fine in a few days anyway.   

He had a job to do and being sick didn’t enter into it. Nelson said it would pass. It was just taking a little longer for him than everyone else. If the rest of the crew recovered, he would too. Eventually.

In the meantime, sleep would help him forget.

**********

Admiral Harriman Nelson left the observation nose at 2310 headed for his cabin. The return trip to Santa Barbara should have been uneventful, but in the last half hour, sonar had picked up some unusual blips. They hadn’t concerned him enough for him to roust his captain from sleep, but he’d lingered in the control room with O’Brien at the conn until he was able to rule out any potential problem.

The pattern had been similar to ones generated by a giant hagfish, commonly called a ‘slime eel’ the sub encountered once before. He’d been searching for the elusive mutation ever since without success. Any other time he would have welcomed the chance to study it, but not with the crew still recovering from the clash with the alien, and definitely not with his captain bordering on the edge of exhaustion. Alyssa Halston would have his hide if he sent Lee back looking like he’d tangled with a vicious sea beast. The woman might be his ex-wife, but her present address fluctuated between Lee’s beach house and her condo, depending on where the ex-model and her young lover were sleeping that night. She fully understood Lee’s dedication to Seaview and his career, but she wouldn’t want her captain coming back looking like he’d been through a war.

And in a way that was exactly what Lee had gone through - - a war of the mind.

Harry scowled, pausing as he reached his cabin. It wouldn’t hurt to check on Lee, poke his head in the door and see if the younger man was sacked out like he should be or was still up fiddling with reports. Lee had a tendency to overwork, but he’d looked so spent when he’d left the control room earlier, Harry couldn’t imagine him doing anything other than crashing.

Deciding to put his mind at ease he detoured around the corner, pausing when he reached Lee’s cabin. He rapped lightly, frowning at the light streaming beneath the door. Damn, if the idiot wasn’t still up! 

“Lee?”

There was no answer to his summons so he cracked the door to peer inside. Failing to spot the captain at his desk, Harry stepped into the cabin. Surprisingly, Lee was sacked out on his bunk, fully clothed, fast asleep. Lying on his back, he had one arm tossed above his head, the other resting across his stomach, his face turned in profile. 

Harry approached noiselessly, worried by the bruising shadow ringed beneath Lee’s eyes. The younger man’s complexion, normally a warm rich tone, looked unnaturally pale against the jet fringe of his lashes. Harry was sure Alyssa appreciated those ridiculously long eyelashes, but right now all they did was make Lee’s skin look sallower by comparison.

He scowled, hearing Chip’s voice in the back of his mind. After the incident with the alien, Harry had been brought up to speed about what happened from both his captain and the exec. It was only when Lee had left that Chip voiced worry. 

“The whole crew feels like they’ve been dragged through the mud, Admiral, but I’m worried about Lee,” the blond-haired man said, standing at the plotting table, staring after his friend. “Madison told me when the thing took him over, Lee fought so violently it almost killed him.”

Harry felt a reactionary twinge in his gut. He would have expected no less of Lee, but surely the danger was all in the past. The thing had been destroyed, everyone was slowly recovering…

“He hasn’t been the same since,” Chip interrupted his thoughts, still looking toward the hatch where Lee had exited.     

Harry rolled his shoulders, trying to dispel the cold fear Chip’s observation kindled. “That’s understandable given the trauma you’ve all been through.”

“No, Sir, you don’t understand.” Chip shook his head, a distinct line of worry etched on his brow. “Lee was like a shell. I remember that now - - looking into his eyes and seeing how broken he was. He hated what he’d become. He was like the walking wounded, a zombie. Whatever that thing did to him, it was far worse than what it did to the rest of us.”

And that’s what had Harry fretting worriedly even now. Lee wouldn’t admit there was anything wrong, but even Harry could tell he wasn’t himself. He’d tried to chalk up his young captain’s marked quietness to the fact he was still recovering, but it went deeper than that. Lee had been nothing short of competent in maneuvering Seaview to her rendezvous with the Huron and overseeing the transfer of the capsule, but he’d kept strangely distant. He didn’t speak unless necessary and kept to himself. As much as Harry tried to overlook it or brush it off as something that would pass, he’d seen acute sadness in Lee’s eyes. Something haunted. Something broken. 

He cursed softly and threaded a hand through his hair. 

He should have known something was wrong the moment he’d stepped onboard. Lee’s behavior had been alarmingly out of skew. For a man who was competent to a fault, he’d thought nothing of admitting Seaview was making only 12 knots when Harry had specifically ordered him to match the Huron’s speed. He’d damn near bitten Lee’s head off for the blatant lack of follow through. And what had his captain said…I’m sorry, Admiral. I didn’t realize it was that important.’

He’d felt like he’d tumbled headfirst into a bizarre alternate reality but, because it was Lee, he’d given him the benefit of the doubt. True, his temper had kicked in, but he’d tamped it down before it could flare out of control. It was only when he realized Lee had deliberately set a course contrary to his orders that he’d hit the roof. With anyone else he would have reacted sooner, but he’d allowed personal feelings for Lee to blind him to the obvious. 

He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do in the future. Had John Phillips been in command, Harry would have realized his blunder the moment he set foot on Seaview. As much as he thrived with Lee as captain, his complex relationship with the younger man was not without problem areas.

On the bunk, Lee murmured in his sleep, shifting slightly. His movement drew Harry’s attention to the two circular dots on the side of his neck. Everyone on the crew had them, but most had vanished with the destruction of the alien. By contrast, the marks on Lee’s neck had darkened in hue, turning an angry raisin color, leeching outward at the edges, bleeding into sunbursts.

It’s just going to take him longer, Harry thought. He fought the hardest. It only stands to reason he wouldn’t snap back as quickly as everyone else.

He’d continue to be attentive. He knew Chip would too. Between the two of them, they’d make certain Lee was on track by the time the sub returned to Santa Barbara. Slightly mollified by the mental vow, Harry crossed to the closet and rummaged on the top shelf until he found a blanket. It didn’t solve his personal conflict about letting his emotions get in the way, but it gave him confidence Lee would recover. At the moment that was all that mattered.

Returning to the bunk, he fanned out the blanket and gently settled it over his sleeping captain. This time Lee didn’t flinch, lost too deeply in sleep. 

Switching off the light, Harry left the cabin. The best thing for Lee right now was rest. By morning he might even be functioning normally again.

Harry drew a breath.

He could only hope.

**********

Lee stood in the head, bowed over the sink, a wad of toilet paper cupped under his nose to catch the blood. He’d slept soundly but had awakened to a pounding headache and a nosebleed. Gritting his teeth against the throbbing in his temples, he waited for the dizziness to pass  . . . knew when it did the bleeding would probably stop too. The nosebleeds and the vertigo were mostly co-joined. The attacks were random, coming with no warning but seemed to be increasing in frequency - - along with the pain in his head and the tenderness on the right side of his neck. 

Straightening, he mopped the blood from under his nose and tossed the soiled tissue into the trash. The light still bothered his eyes, but he knew that was probably because of the headache. At least the dizziness was receding, and the nosebleed seemed to have run its course.

Maybe if he ate something.

He wasn’t really hungry, but a stop by the wardroom certainly wouldn’t hurt before he started his duty shift. Tilting his head to the side, he looked in the mirror, examining the marks on the side of his neck. They’d leeched into hideously dark blotches, barely hidden by his rumpled collar. He’d slept in the uniform and it showed the neglect, wrinkled and limp. Not surprisingly, he felt much the same. Someone had draped a blanket over him during the night - - probably the admiral or Chip. Hopefully, he hadn’t looked as badly as he felt when whoever it was had dropped by.

He prodded the skin on his neck gingerly, wincing at how tender it had grown.

Madison had said the creature used the holes as an entry point, injecting its victim with cellular tissue as a means of cementing control. He’d compared it to parasites festering inside a human host. The 20,000 volts the admiral had pumped into the alien had killed the mutant organisms in the same instant the creature had died. Aberrant by nature, the cells might be able to live independently of the monster, but they couldn’t survive without it.

Lee frowned, noting the skin around the holes appeared swollen and purplish. Maybe he’d gotten hit with more of the electrical current than everyone else. It was just taking him longer to heal. It probably explained the nosebleeds and the vertigo too - - all that juice ripping through his body was bound to cause some trauma. There was no sense worrying over the ordinary. He’d just tough it out until it ran its course.   

Feeling slightly better, he stripped off his rumpled uniform and stepped into the shower.

**********

Chip looked up from the breakfast he’d just demolished as Lee stepped into the wardroom. He’d always had a hearty appetite, but food tasted so much better after being free of that . . . well, whatever-the-hell-it-was-thing. He’d gone back for seconds this morning, mounding his plate full of Cookie’s scrambled eggs, shoestring hashbrowns, buttermilk biscuits and hickory sausage. He’d thought about thirds, then reluctantly decided he needed to exercise some restraint. Butting his plate aside, he pulled his coffee closer, watching as Lee grabbed a serving for himself. He’d expected the captain to pick - - his friend was not a big eater by any means - - but when he joined Chip at the table, the blond-haired man was surprised to see Lee’s plate nearly overflowed.

“Morning, Chip.”

“Morning.” Chip eyed the breakfast skeptically. “Isn’t that an awful lot of food for you?”

Lee shrugged and picked up his fork. “I thought I should eat.” He downed a mouthful of eggs but to Chip it seemed like he was forcing them . . . like it was something mechanical he had to do, not something he enjoyed.

“You really shouldn’t grimace when you eat, Lee,” he observed after watching his friend plow through several bites. “Cookie sees you doing that you’ll give him a complex.”

Lee stopped midway through his fifth forkful as though realizing what he was doing. Scoop, chew, swallow. Scoop, chew, swallow. It had taken on an industrious flow like he just wanted to get the breakfast over with. Dropping the fork onto his plate, he reached for his coffee. “It’s good,” he offered, apologetically. “I’m just not very hungry.”

“So why all the food?”

“I thought maybe . . .” Lee shrugged, his lashes dipping over his coffee. When he spoke, there was an edge of uncertainty to his voice, like he was feeling his way. “It would help.” Uncomfortable, he cleared his throat, forcing himself to sit straighter. His eyes flashed back to Chip’s face. “Don’t you still feel a little spent after going though hell with that  . . . monster . . . and 20,000 volts?”

Chip noticed the change of inflection Lee gave the word ‘monster’ - - loathing, but something else too. Something he couldn’t place. 

“Well, actually . . .” How to say now that the effect had run its course, he felt better than ever? He could tell from looking at Lee, the captain was far from fine. He seemed drawn and tired, and there was still that disturbing haunted shadow lingering in his eyes. Chip remembered it well from the hours when they’d been enslaved to the alien. He’d known Lee was suffering even then, that his friend was in pain, but there’d been nothing he could do about it. “I think I’m out of the woods,” he said, deciding to keep his tone light. If he turned confrontational, Lee would clam up, denying anything was wrong. He tried to ease the sting. “Maybe you should give Madison a yell. Have him take another look at you.”

“There’s no need for that. I’m just a little tired.” The hint of uncertainty Chip had heard before was gone now, replaced by blunt dismissal. Lee took a swallow of coffee and refocused. “Any problems with last night’s watch?”

Chip hadn’t been on, but the first thing he’d done before heading for breakfast was to pick up the previous watch’s report. It was a habit of his, something Lee knew he did like clockwork.

“Mostly quiet, though some of the crew thinks Gilligan might have been in the vicinity.”

Lee shot him a quizzical glance. “Gilligan?”

Chip chuckled. “Riley’s name for the admiral’s mutant hagfish. It’s sort of caught on.”

“Leave it to Riley to name a scientific anomaly after a character from a bad TV show.” Lee shook his head, quickly moving past the name. “Did we have a sonar contact? Visual?”

“Sonar, but there’s no certainty it was the eel. There and gone before it could really register. It’s been clear since.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way. One monster is more than enough for this voyage.”

Chip frowned, once again noting Lee’s unusual inflection on the word monster. It bothered him he couldn’t nail down what he heard. Revulsion, regret . . . self-recrimination? He watched as Lee went back to eating, once again working through the food with a mechanical determination. Warning flags pinged to attention in his head. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Lee had been quiet since the encounter with the alien, keeping mostly to himself except as necessary for command. The fact he’d even joined Chip for breakfast had been a surprise given his reclusive behavior of late. 

Chip knew he could push Lee for what was really bothering him, but experience told him his friend would just throw up a stone wall. The quickest way to end their casual breakfast would be for Chip to continue to dig. He’d do better changing the topic and just observing, seeing what he could decipher on his own.

“I’m actually looking forward to a long liberty this time. We can all use the break.”

Lee nodded, dutifully swallowing another mouthful of potatoes. Chip didn’t think he’d ever seen him eat so much in so short a time. “I promised Alyssa I’d attend a movie premiere with her in L.A. One of her clients is branching into film and has a small role.”

Chip grinned, unaccustomed to the Lee Crane he knew rubbing elbows with the jet-set and Hollywood crowd. Amazing the allowances a person made when they were in love. He had no doubt Lee had fallen head-over-heels for his sexy super-model but couldn’t really fault his friend. Alyssa understood his commitment to Seaview and N.I.M.R., never placing demands on him for his time. Chip liked that about her, and … hey…it sure didn’t hurt that she had a killer body and a face to rival Helen of Troy.  

As expected, he’d experienced his share of doubts at the beginning. The woman was sixteen years older than Lee in addition to being Nelson’s ex-wife. It had seemed like a lot of baggage to overcome, but he had to admit he’d never seen his friend happier in a relationship. Alyssa had already done wonders in keeping Lee’s mind off Mitchell Blake who’d crawled out of the woodwork immediately after his divorce to Lee’s mother was final. Although his friend wouldn’t talk about it Chip knew Lee had gotten several nasty phone calls from his stepfather. 

“A movie premiere?” Grinning, he raised an eyebrow. “I never thought I’d see the day when you did the Red Carpet. You’re not going to turn up in some supermarket tabloid are you?”

Lee smirked. “The press has moved on Chip. Alyssa and I are old news these days.” He grimaced and dropped his fork. “I can’t eat any more of this. Cookie’s going to mutiny if I try to take it back now.”

“Give it to me.” Chip reached across the table, claiming his friend’s plate. It looked like he was going to have a third helping after all. At least Lee had managed to down half of what he’d claimed for breakfast. Given he wasn’t much of an eater under the best circumstances, the dent he’d made was impressive. “You’re just lucky I’ve got a permanent hole in my stomach.”

“Thanks, Chip.” Lee looked ready to say something else when he turned his head away suddenly. “Excuse me.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and stood. “I’m heading to the control room,” he mumbled, cupping the small square of linen under his nose, already turning to leave.

Chip frowned, noticing his posture. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a nosebleed. The air must be dry.” He was edgy to be away. “See you in a short while.” He left quickly, balling the handkerchief into his fist. His step faltered at the door - - barely noticeable except to Chip - - and he brushed a hand on the bulkhead to steady himself. In the next instant he was gone, passing into the corridor, leaving Chip to wonder over his strange behavior.

**********

Lee stood in the observation nose, intent on the vista beyond the herculite windows. In the few hours since he’d been on watch, they’d had one or two elusive sonar blips that profiled similar to their original sighting of the admiral’s hagfish. Nothing definitive, gone as quickly as they’d come. As with the instance last night, the readings were written off as ghost impressions or harmless biologics. Not wholly convinced, Lee wandered to the nose periodically, doing a visual sweep of the seascape.

Thankfully, the nosebleed and rush of vertigo he’d felt in the wardroom had been brief, both gone by the time he reached the control room. The headache was slower to depart, still flirting around his temples, making the brighter operation lights an aggravation. Chip had shown up not long afterward, acting casual but shooting covert glances in his direction when he thought Lee wasn’t aware.

Dispensing an inward sigh, Lee acknowledged he had no one to blame but himself. As much as he’d tried to spring back after the alien’s attack, he knew his behavior was out of whack, both physically and mentally. He’d have to pull it together by the time they got back to Santa Barbara. Whatever was wrong with him, he didn’t want Alyssa worrying the way he knew Chip and the admiral were worrying.

“Anything interesting?” his executive officer asked casually, catching him off guard as he stepped to his side.

Lee gave an unconscious jerk, mentally cursing himself for being so tightly strung. “Just watching the seascape.”

“I thought maybe you were looking for Gilligan.”

Lee frowned. “It’s a hagfish, Chip. It suffocates its prey with slime. It’s been called the ‘most disgusting of all sea creatures.’ I refuse to call the damn thing by a name.” He looked away. “It’s a monster,” he mumbled.

The thought made his gut tighten. He’d had his fill of freakish anomalies. If it really was the hagfish playing havoc with sonar, the admiral would want to linger. Ever since Seaview’s first disastrous encounter with the giant mutant, Nelson had been focused on finding it again. Lee knew it was the scientist in him that craved another chance at crossing paths, but he couldn’t dredge up the same level of enthusiasm. As much as he respected Nelson, as much as he’d allowed his life to become entangled with the older man’s, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to fully appreciate the admiral’s relentless drive for discovery. 

Nelson had taught him a lot - - opened his eyes to new frontiers, fashioned him into more than just another sub driver by making him appreciate science as something to be lived and experienced rather than merely talked about. He’d come to value speculation and the incredulous potential attached to it, but underneath he was still fundamentally practical. He knew Nelson wanted his hagfish and the myriad possibilities it represented. He would be cautious, allowing Lee to call the shots with Seaview, but he would want to stay. He would deem the discovery worth the risk. 

And that’s where they differed. 

Right now, the only effort Lee deemed worthy was forgetting that monsters and mutants existed. Whether borne of sea or sky, he wanted nothing to do with the fantastical and the unexplained. The hagfish was really no different than the alien in that it wanted to control and destroy. He’d already surrendered once. He wasn’t about to put his boat and crew in jeopardy a second time.

“Skipper.” Kowalski’s voice rose sharply from the vicinity of the sonar station. “I’m picking up a large object, 1200 yards aft.”

Lee snapped from his reclusive mood with the flip of a switch. “Identify,” he commanded, striding quickly to take up a position behind the younger man’s chair. He felt Chip trail on his heels, as intent as he was on the rogue sonar reading.

“I can’t, Sir.” Kowalski adjusted the dials, trying to zero in on the troublesome blip. “Could be a biologic, but…”

“Patterson, activate the aft camera,” Lee instructed, moving two paces away to focus on the large monitor screen positioned above an instrument panel. Something spiked in his head, and he gripped the back of the seaman’s chair to steady himself. He was vaguely aware Nelson had entered the control room through the hatchway in time to catch the tail end of their conversation.

Lee watched the monitor screen, squinting against the pain in his head. He was conscious of Nelson at his shoulder and knew he didn’t have to explain anything to the admiral. The older man’s mind worked at light speed. He was no doubt already calculating fringe possibilities while Lee was still trying to decipher the odds of repetitive sonar hits. Nothing out of the ordinary appeared on the monitor.

“Kowalski? What’s your status now?”

“No reading, Skipper. Whatever it was is gone.”

He frowned. “Did it profile the same as the readings Marcus made last night?” He’d reviewed those reports only an hour ago, noting the hits that had been attributed to Riley’s ‘Gilligan.’

“Aye, Sir.” Kowalski made another adjustment to the dial. “Still nothing.”

“Nothing on the monitor either,” Nelson remarked thoughtfully. “Same as last night.”

“Hagfish are known to burrow in the bottom, Admiral. They’re marked with natural camouflaging. It could just have eluded us.” He didn’t know why he bothered pointing out the obvious. Nelson knew far more about slime eels than he did. His observation was equivalent to the student reminding the teacher.

Nelson shot him a curious glance. “What we tangled with last cruise was far too big, Lee. Camouflaging or not, we’d see something.”

“Maybe.” Fatigued, he bent his head and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing two fingers to the center of his forehead just above his nose. The deck tilted and for a minute it felt like he was standing on something spongy and soft. He tightened his hand on the back of Patterson’s chair, conscious his body listed to the side.

“Lee?” Nelson’s voice seemed to come from a great distance.

Something warm and wet trickled onto his upper lip, seeping into his mouth. He tasted the sharp bite of copper on his tongue, felt strong fingers wrap around his arm, clasping fast. A soft square of linen was pressed beneath his nose.

“Hold that. Come over here and sit down.” Nelson’s voice was sharper now, cutting through the fog in his head. “You’ve got a bad nosebleed.” 

The admiral steered him backward, pushing him down until he was sitting on the periscope island. He didn’t even remember raising a hand to clutch the cloth under his nose but held it in place automatically. Realizing the handkerchief belonged to Nelson, he gazed up at the older man. “It’s nothing, Admiral. Just . . .” But a sudden crush of lightheadedness made him close his eyes tightly. Before he could stop himself, he swayed to the side, sagging against Nelson.

“All right, Captain - - that’s it. You’re off duty.” The words pinged somewhere over his head, volleyed like a shot from a great distance. He tried to focus, to make himself sit upright, but the vertigo kept him plastered in place.

“Chip, get Madison up here,” he heard Nelson order. The admiral’s hand rested on his back, just behind his neck. Shakily, he mopped blood from under his nose.

“Come on, Lee. Lean backward.” Nelson guided him, gripping his shoulder, gently urging him back against the railing. He folded without protest, unnerved by the way his surroundings bucked and rolled. Nelson slipped a hand under his chin, tilting his head back. “Just keep that handkerchief in place.” A pause, no more than a beat, but it was bloated with anxiety. “You haven’t been downing a lot of aspirin have you?”

He shook his head. Aspirin was a blood-thinner. Was he really bleeding that badly to make Nelson question whether he’d been self-medicating? He might have laughed except that he felt like he was floating. He licked his lips, tasting wetness and acidic metal. “Sir?”

Nelson squeezed his shoulder. “Just take it easy, lad. Madison will be here in a minute.”

Lad. Nelson rarely, if ever, called him that in front of the crew. 

“It’s just a nosebleed,” Lee mumbled, not wanting the older man to worry. “I’ve had them before.”

“How long?”

He tried to think . . . opened his eyes to stare at the bulkhead yawing above him. Everything felt fish-eyed, stretched and pulled like taffy. If only the vertigo would fade.

“A day . . . maybe . . .”

“Since the incident with the alien?” the admiral guessed. 

He grunted an acknowledgement. Something wet trickled from his right ear. He brushed at it impatiently, distressed when his fingers came away stained red. Beside him, Nelson sucked down a hissing breath.

“Chip, where the hell is Madison?”

“I’m on it,” Lee heard his exec call. The whole thing was ridiculous. He was just suffering from a nosebleed and a troublesome bout of dizziness. The blood from his ear was . . . was . . .

“I’m fine, Admiral,” he tried to protest. He’d just stand up and get back to duty. He got his feet under him, but the moment he moved to stand the world lurched out of skew and he crumpled against the periscope well with a low groan. A fresh stream of blood gushed from his ear, curving to the contour of his jaw. He swiped at it with the handkerchief, holding the soiled cloth balled in his fist. For the first time since the nosebleeds had begun, he realized something was seriously wrong.

“Lee!” 

He heard Chip’s shoes strike sharply against the deck as the exec hurried to his side. Nelson was practically holding him upright now, one hand on his back, the other hooked around his bicep.

“Easy, lad,” Nelson coaxed. “Just hang on for me.”

“Sir, is the skipper going to be all right?” Kowalski asked worriedly from the distance.

“I’m  . . . all right.” But he wasn’t. Even his voice sounded far away, swaddled in cotton. A tremor raced through his hands, the taste of blood sharp and overpowering on his tongue. He swallowed the bitter tang, disturbed when pain splintered down the right side of his neck. He could sense brewing tension from the crew, their concern for him crackling on the air like an electrical charge.

“Hang Madison for taking the damn scenic tour,” Nelson snarled at no one in particular. “Where the hell is that blasted doctor?”

Lee heard the crack of venom in his voice and knew he was one step shy of rolling heads. He was about to dredge up another protest, but his body had its own ideas. He slumped forward against Nelson’s hold, parting with a soft moan. The light spiraled away into shadow, taking his consciousness with it.

**********

Lee groaned, tugged back toward awareness. 

There was nothing but darkness at first, a heavy muddle of black and charcoal that bled into lighter gray. He turned his head, conscious of something soft and cushioning beneath him. Restless, he tried to scrabble back to the light.

“I think he’s coming around,” a voice said from somewhere above. He felt a touch against his forehead, the feather-soft skim of fingers lightly brushing through his bangs. “Lee? Can you hear me, lad?”

The admiral. He tried to make his lips move and managed a grunt. His eyelids were slower to respond, heavy and sluggish. With concentrated effort, he blinked aside the disorientation and woke to find Nelson staring down on him.

The older man sighed in relief, but the strain on his face didn’t alter. “How are you feeling?”

“I . . . uh . . .” Lee took stock of his situation and realized he was in Sick Bay. Not much of a surprise given he’d been bleeding from the ear and nose and had ended the show with a swan dive in the control room. “Fine,” he said carefully, not entirely sure it was an honest assessment. He was lying in one of the lower racks against the wall, but before he could move to sit up, Madison edged Nelson out of the way.

“Just a minute, Captain. Let’s make sure you’re all together, before you start moving around.”

Lee consented to a brief examination, breathing evenly while the doctor took his pulse and checked his heart and blood pressure. He realized blood had dribbled onto his shirt, mostly on the collar, already stiff and dry. Madison muttered something about an improvement then drew a pen light from his shirt pocket. “Focus here for me, Captain.” He tapped an index finger against his nose. Complying, Lee kept his gaze trained where instructed while Madison flecked the light against one pupil then the other.

“Well? Do I pass muster, Doctor?” 

“For the moment.” Madison tucked the penlight into his pocket. “You can sit up, just don’t move too quickly. I’m going to give you another vitamin shot to hold you over. It may help with the vertigo and fatigue until we can correct matters permanently.”

“Correct?” Lee frowned, well aware something had been left unsaid. “Is there a problem?”

“That’s one manner of phrasing it.”

“Doctor,” Nelson warned with a critical glare.

Lee looked from his friend to Madison who’d moved to the supply cabinet and was busy preparing a hypo for injection. He swung his legs to the deck but remained sitting, uncertain he should chance standing when he wasn’t certain the room would remain stable. “Admiral, if there’s something I should know…”

Nelson held up a hand. “In a minute, Lee.”

He swallowed uncomfortably, realizing the delay wasn’t a denial. At his side, Madison had returned and was in the process of rolling up his sleeve to administer the shot. He felt strangely disoriented, more than a little disturbed by the way Nelson was watching him. He felt the jab of the needle followed by a lesser pinch as it slid free. Madison was nothing if not competent, but he lacked Jamie’s warmth and personal concern. Lee spent so much time avoiding Sick Bay when Jamison was onboard he was shocked to realize how much he missed the man. If he had to have someone poking and prodding him, he wanted it to be someone he trusted implicitly.

“You have a decision to make, Commander,” Madison said, all crisp efficiency as he dropped the syringe onto a small tray. “I can certainly share the results of your x-rays and cat scan if you need convincing about my recommended course of treatment.”

“I said I’d handle it!” Nelson snapped, clearly irritated. “That will be all, doctor. I will call you if I need you.” He nodded pointedly toward the air wall separating the office from the main portion of Sick Bay.

A claxon went off in Lee’s head. Restless, he shoved to his feet, watching as Madison departed with a shrug. The man was clearly nonchalant about whatever the problem was while Nelson fidgeted like he was walking on broken glass.

“All right.” Lee had never done well with guessing games and fared far better when the facts were dumped on the table all at once. “Whatever it is you’re reluctant to tell me, just say it, Admiral. It’s not just a simple nosebleed, is it?”

“No.” Nelson shook his head, his eyes dipping momentarily. “Sit down, Lee.”

“I’d rather stand.” It wasn’t stubbornness that kept him on his feet, rather plain old-fashioned grit. If the admiral was readying to drop something grave on him, he’d rather face it standing. If nothing else, it gave him the illusion of control. “Madison mentioned x-rays and a cat scan. Taken while I was unconscious?” he guessed.

Another nod. “Along with blood work and a full lab report. You’ve been out for over six hours, Lee.”

Six hours! It didn’t seem possible. It felt like he’d just closed his eyes, tumbled into the darkness, then immediately awakened again. Six hours put them within a day’s journey of Santa Barbara. In another twenty-four hours he’d be home, able to shut out the ugly memories of the preceding day.

Alyssa would be waiting for him, eager to have him back in her life and her bed. She was all he wanted - - to drown in her comfort, wrap her in his arms and make love to her. He could forget about monsters and the degrading reality of being forced to bend to an alien will. That person felt like someone he didn’t know. It had been a broken man who’d pleaded with the creature for leniency for his friends then turned around, forced to order their execution.

Unnerved, he fingered the onyx ring on his left hand. “What are you trying not to tell me, Admiral?”

Nelson blew out a breath, obviously deciding he couldn’t dance around the issue. “It has to do with that . . . thing . . . that took over the boat.”

A whisper of cold skittered down Lee’s spine. “The alien?”  

“Yes. The damn alien.” Agitated, Nelson paced a short distance away, scuffing a hand over the back of his neck. “Based upon the results of the scans and tests Madison ran, it appears you haven’t been as fortunate as everyone else. The charge I pumped into that monster was enough to destroy the microscopic cells it had implanted in the crew.”

Lee sensed what was coming. “And me?”

Nelson’s eyes flashed back to his face. “It couldn’t control you with something as small as a single cell, Lee. Not the way you fought it. Because of that resistance it had to force a much larger part of itself into your body - - through those holes in your neck.”

He tried not to think about something living inside of him. The very idea was nauseating, grotesquely intimate. It left cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck. “A greater infusion of cells?” He wet his lips, hoping his revulsion didn’t show. “But I thought you said the organisms couldn’t survive without the monst…” He stopped abruptly, biting off the word, refusing to acknowledge childhood terrors. “I thought the organisms couldn’t survive without the alien,” he clarified, in control once again.

“That’s true. Eventually the thing inside of you will die,” Nelson agreed. “But because - - comparatively - - it’s so large, it’s taking a much longer time. And for every second it struggles to survive, it’s causing you damage. Everything you’ve been experiencing - - the nosebleeds, vertigo, headaches, the bleeding from your ears - - can all be traced back to the creature.” He stepped closer, reached out and brushed his fingers against Lee’s throat. “It’s why these marks haven’t healed and your neck is so bruised and tender.” Dropping his hand, he shook his head. “It’s twined itself around your Eustachian tube and worked into the cochlea and nasal passages. Worse, it’s infringing on the brain cavity, which is causing your headaches. Think of it as an amoeba, spreading outward with several dozen ‘arms.’ As it stands, the thing could survive a few days or it could die tomorrow.”

Lee swallowed, uncertain he liked the sound of that. “So I wait it out?”

Nelson scowled. He gripped the younger man’s shoulder and pushed gently, urging him back toward the bunk. “Sit down, lad.”

This time Lee complied. Maybe because the admiral was calling him ‘lad’ again and that triggered something on a subconscious level even he couldn’t explain. It told him Nelson was not only concerned but had shifted into protective mode which Lee responded to instinctively. He was more than capable of standing on his own, but it felt good to know whatever the problem was, he didn’t have to face it alone. Nelson would be there with him. 

“Madison thinks it should be removed as soon as possible and I’m inclined to agree,” the admiral told him.

“Surgery?”

“No. That’s far too complex given its alien physiology and the way it’s entwined itself inside of you. If it felt threatened through a surgical attack it could cause greater internal damage. The only thing we do know for certain is that it’s unable to withstand concentrated levels of electrical current.”

Lee snorted. “So you’re suggesting I should go find a short circuit somewhere?”

Nelson grimaced. “It’s not as far-fetched as it sounds. Are you familiar with ECT?”

Convinced he’d heard incorrectly, Lee shoved from the bunk. “You want me to undergo electroshock? Absolutely not!” Frazzled by the very suggestion, he strode across the room, pivoting to face Nelson. “Admiral, you can’t seriously suggest I submit to…”

“Just stop and consider it,” Nelson insisted, cutting him off. “Electroconvulsive therapy isn’t without risk I grant you, but it’s been used effectively in treating numerous psychiatric disorders from mild to severe. You would be anesthetized to prevent bone breaks or fractures and the entire ‘treatment’ would last no more than twenty seconds. We’d basically be reproducing a grand-mal seizure. Hopefully, one session would be sufficient.”

“And if not, you just zap me again until you get it right?” Lee shook his head. “No! I’m not going to be a guinea pig.”

Nelson looked desperate. “That thing is hurting you, Lee. Our options are limited.

 

“So you want to stick a rubber block in my mouth, strap me down and shoot electrical current through my brain? No. I’ll take my chances with the alien.”

“Don’t be foolish. Do you seriously think I’d suggest something I thought would hurt you?”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Not intentionally,” he conceded. “But you can’t deny there’s risk, Admiral. Are you aware ECT causes memory impairment?”

Nelson looked uncomfortable. “That’s mostly short term.”

“Mostly. And what happens if your Dr. Frankenstein experiment wipes out something vital related to Seaview, the Institute, my naval training or ONI? I’m not willing to take that chance.”

Nelson scowled, narrowing his eyes. “You seem to know an awful lot about ECT.”

Lee clamped his mouth shut, abruptly stone-faced.

Nelson eyed him warily. “Lee, have you ever…?”

“No, and neither has anyone in my family.”

“Then how do you know so much?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” It was all so long ago - - Ginny, an icy winter road, a late night party. A single car accident later and everything had changed. If not for that catastrophe, his life may have taken a different course. He could forgive her the loss of feelings - - the head trauma had done that - - but not for what she’d done afterward. “I’m not going to risk the possibility of memory loss. What I do is too important to me. You said this thing will die eventually. I’ll just wait it out. I’m not willing to risk my career.”

Anger flared in Nelson’s eyes. “Stop being so confoundedly bullheaded. Even if you experience memory loss, the odds of it being permanent are off the charts. Properly administered and monitored, ECT is a viable form of treatment, and in your case a feasible solution to a difficult problem.”

“I said no, Admiral.”

Nelson seethed. “Damn it, Lee! Do you realize the damage that thing could do to you before it dies? I contacted Jamie about this while you were out and he’s in agreement it’s the most logical course of action. The sooner we proceed, the better.”

Lee looked away. He could already feel a flirty edge of vertigo pushing against his senses and wondered if a nosebleed wouldn’t start again within a few seconds. They were all professionals, all career military, yet despite that hard line and crackerjack poise, he knew Nelson and Jamie were like pitbulls when it came to protecting him. They would never recommend anything that might hurt him. But the thought of undergoing a procedure that left him vulnerable, after having just surrendered control, simply wasn’t an option. Even without the memories of Ginny, he couldn’t do it.

The boat lurched unexpectedly, rocking to the side, saving him from a reply. He careened into the supply cabinet and instinctively held fast waiting for a shockwave or another hit. It came almost immediately, sending the boat tilting back like a seesaw. The lights flickered and dimmed then flared to life with a sputtering cough of sparks. He could feel the stability return before it actually did and had a hand mic halfway to his lips before Seaview righted herself. “Control room, damage report. What hit us?”

“Lee?” Chip’s voice came back almost immediately, surprise evident at finding him awake and functioning. “Minor systems offline here. Damage reports still coming in. Tell the admiral we found Gilligan.”

Lee swore softly. “On my way.” He returned the microphone to its mounting bracket on the wall.

“Just a minute.” Nelson caught his arm before he could reach the door. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Admiral, I’m fine now.” He ground his teeth to keep from snapping. The hagfish was back, using his boat as a play toy. Monsters had no place in his world. He’d kill the damn thing given the opportunity. The last thing he wanted was to be sidelined in Sick Bay, sitting uselessly and twiddling his thumbs. “If I have a relapse, I’ll take myself off duty,” he promised.

Nelson wasn’t buying it. “I haven’t put you back on duty, Captain. Besides, Madison needs to clear you, and he isn’t going to do that without my okay.”

“Sir.” Lee fidgeted, anxious to be away. He knew Nelson had his best interest at heart but sometimes the older man’s concern bottled him in a corner. With any luck the admiral’s protest was really just a reminder of who was in charge and not to play recklessly with his health. “While we’re standing here talking…”

“All right, you’ve made your point.” Nelson hooked him under the arm, walking rapidly toward the door, pulling Lee with him. “Let’s see what this is all about. Then we’ll continue with our original discussion.”

Lee winced. “Admiral…”

“In the meantime, I’ll have Madison partition off a section of Sick Bay and set up for ECT. The sooner we start on it the better.”

Lee clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to argue, but his mind was already made up. The only way anyone was going to strap him to a table and shoot current into his brain was if he was unconscious. 

And that just wasn’t going to happen.

**********

Lee followed Nelson into the control room, heading directly for Chip at the plotting table. He was aware of several trailing glances as he passed, the crew’s relief at having him back on his feet evident even if no words were exchanged. Patterson had the panel for the hydrophone pulled apart, and there was some minor clean-up taking place, but otherwise everything seemed to be in working order.

“What’s our status?” he asked his exec as Chip turned from checking a reading on the navigation panel.

“Fully functional, Sir. The hagfish just clipped us.”

“Do we have a fix on it?” Nelson asked.

Chip shook his head. “It’s vanished again. Kowalski’s monitoring sonar and Riley’s on lookout.” He nodded toward the observation nose where the blond-haired crewman kept a visual watch on the seascape beyond the herculite windows.

“It couldn’t have just disappeared,” Lee protested. It surprised him to realize how vindictive he was feeling, how desperately he wanted to kill the thing. Let it stick its ugly head anywhere near Seaview and he’d blow it out of the water. He’d make damn sure it never tangled with another boat or crew. “Ski, anything?” he asked, shooting a glance to the always reliable senior rating.

“Nothing, Skipper.” Kowalski frowned, looking at him oddly. “Sir . . . your nose is bleeding again.”

“Damn.” He cursed tightly, fishing in his pocket for the already soiled handkerchief. He swiped quickly at the blood, then balled the stained linen into his fist, acutely aware Nelson had zeroed in on him like a hawk. “It’s minor,” he insisted, staving off the admiral’s objection before the older man could order him from the control room. The light stung his eyes, amplifying an icy finger of pain that raced down the back of his skull, but he was determined not to let the discomfort show.

He paced quickly to the windows, joining Riley to stare outside. He was barely conscious of the younger man, too focused on the murky water illuminated in the yellow cone of the nose light. The vista was serene, composed of underwater rock formations, colorful sea anemones and nutrient-rich beds of grass. If the slime eel was out there it had probably burrowed into the soft silt of the ocean floor. 

“Mister Morton,” he called over his shoulder. “Depth to bottom.”

Chip’s pause was minimal. “Seven hundred feet.”

“Take her down and hover at five hundred.” He looked away and cupped the handkerchief under his nose, catching a fresh stream of blood. “Riley,” he said softly. “Take over sonar and send Ski up here.”

“Aye, Sir.” 

Lee closed his eyes briefly, struggling as the vertigo peaked then swiftly receded. The headache spread fingers into his neck, turning the sub’s incandescent lights into a stabbing glare. If he wasn’t careful Nelson would be back - - wanting to relieve him of duty and talking about electroshock. If anything was going to get fried by an electrical charge, it was going to be the damn monster threatening his sub.

“Sir, you wanted to see me?” Kowalski appeared at his back.

He straightened, making sure the last of the blood was gone and turned. “I want the Flying Sub made ready for launch, Ski. You’ll be joining me.”

“Sir?” Taken aback, Kowalski hedged, his indecision as plain as if he’d spoken aloud. 

It wasn’t his place to tell the captain of the vessel what to do, but he clearly had doubts about his superior’s stamina and health. The dried blood on Lee’s shirt probably wasn’t helping. He watched as Kowalski shot a nervous glance at the admiral who was still talking with Chip by the plotting table, before deciding to blunder ahead.

 “Skipper, no disrespect intended, but do you really think you’re up to piloting FS1 right now?”

Uncertain if he was annoyed or pleased by Kowalski’s challenge to the order, Lee settled for being faintly amused. He wasn’t entirely willful and unreasonable. If he took the controls of the Flying Sub now, he’d only end up endangering himself and Kowalski. He was glad the rating had enough grit to point that out. “I’m not going to pilot her, Ski. You are.” 

“Me?” Kowalski looked scandalized by the idea, then surprisingly pleased.

Lee knew the pronouncement would catch him by surprise. It wasn’t as if the rating had never piloted FS1 before, but the circumstances were rare. Even rarer, Lee didn’t willingly relinquish control of the compact yellow sub. When he did, it was only to the admiral or Chip, but neither would want him leaving the boat to begin with. He needed a pilot he could trust implicitly, not only on a competence level, but a personal level too. Ski would look out for him and he’d also side with him if push came to shove. Lee had a lot of respect for Kowalski and knew that feeling was mutual. After Nelson and Chip - - and Jamie, had he been onboard - - there was no one Lee trusted more than Kowalski. He liked to think there was friendship between them too, as much as could be permitted with their difference in rank. It was that angle he played on now.

“I’m probably not in the best shape for this, Ski,” he admitted, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “And I might have another  . . .” he grimaced. “. . . attack, while we’re out there. But that thing is out there too, and unless we find and destroy it, Seaview is at risk.” He paused, his gaze candid. “Will you help me out?” 

Kowalski seemed to recognize that he asked rather than ordered. “Skipper, the admiral’s never going to let you off this tub. Not the way you look right now.”

“I’ll take care of the admiral.” 

“And Mister Morton? The exec is going to go ballistic. You know how he, um . . . looks out for you.”

Lee grinned faintly. “I’ll handle Chip too. But I need a pilot. Can I count on you, Ski?”

Kowalski didn’t hesitate. “I’ll start on the pre-flight check.” He shot a wary glance toward Nelson and Chip, both engaged in reviewing printouts at the plotting table. “But you’re going to have to answer questions the minute I crack the hatch. Neither one of those two is going to want to let you off this sub.”

Lee nodded, closing his eyes briefly as another wave of vertigo struck.

“Skipper, are you sure you’re up for this? You really don’t look good, Sir.”

“That’s just what I wanted to hear.” His grin resurfaced as he nudged Ski in the direction of FS1. “Fifteen minutes should do it.”

“Aye, Sir.”

Hopefully, as tired as he was, he could stay on his feet that long.

**********

“Have you lost your mind?” Chip ground his teeth together watching as Lee shrugged into the black flight jacket he’d had Patterson retrieve from his cabin. What he couldn’t understand was why Nelson wasn’t biting his captain’s head off. 

Like the admiral, he’d listened incredulously while Lee explained his plan for taking FS1 out in an attempt to locate the hagfish. He’d give the idiot points for having Kowalski act as pilot, but the whole idea was ludicrous. At least Lee had the foresight to discuss it in the nose, away from the crew. The watch team was already antsy about the way he looked, expecting him to take another swan dive to the deck. One glance at the stupid fool, and it was obvious he should be in bed. He looked ready to keel over at a moment’s notice.

“Why do you want to hunt this thing?” Chip protested. “It’s crossed our path and vanished. It isn’t a threat right now. I say leave it go.”

“More importantly, why do you want to kill it?” Nelson asked, his gaze fixed on Lee.

It was the first he’d really said anything despite Chip having snapped and snarled over every suggestion Lee had made. It was obvious the captain had a killer headache. Twice, he’d had to stem a nosebleed in the last ten minutes. Chip couldn’t understand why Nelson didn’t just relieve him of command and order him to Sick Bay where he belonged.

“It’s a threat to Seaview, Admiral,” Lee said, carefully schooling his expression. 

The façade went nowhere with Chip. He knew him too well and knew Nelson did too. As always, Lee’s changeling eyes gave him away, an expressive canvas of amber, topaz and jade. Beneath the raven line of his lashes, Chip saw a strange tangle of vindictiveness and hurt. Was it possible to look ruthless and wounded at the same time? Studying him, Chip began to suspect Lee’s blunt determination in tracking down the hagfish actually had very little to do with Seaview.

“It may just be protecting itself,” Nelson pointed out. “Fighting to survive.”

“The way that thing from space was fighting to survive?” Lee spat. 

And abruptly, Chip understood. In his head, Lee couldn’t separate one from the other. Both were creatures, monsters. One from the sea, one from the sky, but no different in their desire to subjugate and destroy. Whatever hell the alien had put Lee through psychologically when it had taken him over, he was far from healed. He wasn’t just battling physical demons, but mental ones too.

“You’re in no condition to leave this boat,” he said tightly. “If you’re so damn set on finding this thing, I can go with Kowalski.”

Lee shot him a scathing glare. “I am in command, Mister Morton. As captain, I’ll make the decision about who leaves and who stays.”

“You shouldn’t be in command.” Chip looked pointedly at the admiral. “Sir, he should be in Sick Bay. We all know it. You can order him there…”

“Chip!” Lee snapped, ready to launch into a tirade.

Nelson held up a hand. “That’s enough! I don’t need my officers squabbling.” He waited a beat then looked steadily at Lee. “I’m inclined to let you go, Commander, but it may not be necessary to destroy this creature if you find it.”

“Admiral…”

“Captain, I am speaking.” The edge was unmistakable. 

Chip shot Nelson a surprised glance. As a scientist, he knew the admiral often saw things differently than his young commander, but surely even he had to recognize why Lee was so driven in tracking down the eel. He wanted to pull the older man aside and shake some sense into him. “He’s hurting, can’t you see that? He’s all ripped up inside over what that damn alien did to him. The worse thing you can do is turn him loose on a hunt.”

“You’re to track it, find it and radio your position,” Nelson said still watching Lee. “But that’s all. Do I make myself clear?”

Lee’s mouth thinned. “Yes, Sir.”

Chip couldn’t believe his ears. Nelson - - who was normally the first to hover protectively if Lee was hurt or ill - - was actually going to let him off the boat in the condition he was in. He could feel the protest building inside of him, but Nelson wasn’t through with his directives. His gaze was uncharacteristically merciless as he watched Lee.

“There is one condition, Commander.”

Lee said nothing, merely waited for the shoe to fall.

“When you return, you’ll report directly to Sick Bay and undergo the treatment we discussed earlier.”

There was no mistaking the shock that crossed Lee’s face. “Admiral . . . that’s blackmail!”

“Call it what you want.” Nelson’s gaze was suddenly hard. “I can’t force you to consent to something against your will, but I can override your decision about taking off in FS1. You can assign someone else to go with Kowalski as Chip suggested. If you go yourself, those are my conditions.”

Lee pressed his lips together. “You’ve made your position clear, Sir. If that’s all, I’d like to get started.”

Nelson nodded. “Madison will have everything ready when you get back. Now send Kowalski up here. I want to talk to him.”

Lee winced, turning away. Chip watched him walk to the hatch for the Flying Sub, aware Kowalski was already below. “Admiral . . . what was that all about? Blackmail and Madison?”

Looking pained, the older man shook his head. “Something I wish I didn’t have to do, Chip. Hopefully, Lee will forgive me for it.”

**********

Harry studied Kowalski levelly. He had no doubt the seaman was up to the task of piloting FS1 and, all things considered, if he or Chip couldn’t be with Lee, Kowalski was the next best choice. The rating was Lee’s preferred diving partner and back-up man most any time he went off the sub. Ski was accustomed to working with the captain, understood his temperament and the way his mind worked. He was used to watching Lee’s back.

The problem as Harry saw it was that Lee simply wasn’t himself, physically or emotionally, and that presented a problem. He wanted to be candid with Kowalski about the risks Lee was taking but recognized the benefit of keeping matters strictly between the two of them. He’d already sent Chip back to the control room, deciding Kowalski would fare better if he spoke to him privately. The rating didn’t need the added pressure of having an angry exec breathing down his neck. And there was no question Chip was angry - - at Harry for allowing Lee to take off in FS1 with only Ski for company, and at Lee for having devised the foolhardy plan in the first place.

“Sir?” Kowalski prompted. “The skipper said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes.” How to explain what needed to be said? “You’re aware Captain Crane’s health isn’t the best just now - - and certainly not ideal to be undertaking a mission off the sub?”

“Yes, Sir.” Kowalski drew out the response a little longer than normal. It was clear he was surprised Harry hadn’t countered his captain’s orders. Like Chip, he’d obviously expected Harry to drop the boom on Lee’s scheme. But Kowalski was first and foremost ‘Lee’s man.’ It was plain he didn’t want to say anything that might reflect badly on his captain or end with Lee’s operation in jeopardy.  

Harry decided to let him off the hook. “I’m not going to scrub the mission, Kowalski. I just want you to be aware of the risks involved. Foremost, that Captain Crane is very sick. Should anything go wrong - - should he have another attack - - you’re to abort and return to Seaview immediately. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” Kowalski frowned, disturbed. “But Sir . . . if he really is that sick why are you letting him go?”

He wondered why himself. His gut told him Lee was far too ill, but he couldn’t overlook the behavioral change in his normally thoughtful captain. Lee had turned the quest for the hagfish into a witch hunt and that gave him leverage he wouldn’t normally have. The younger man wanted the slime eel badly enough to consent to Harry’s terms for leaving the sub. Maybe his ‘conditions’ were unethical, but if that was the only way to get Lee into Sick Bay and onto a table, he’d live with the consequences.

And his conscience.  

“If I didn’t let him go, he’d just stay here and blatantly refuse the single form of treatment that might help him,” he told Kowalski. “This way, he’ll work out his aggravation on the hagfish. He’s turned tracking this creature into a personal vendetta.”

“That can’t be healthy.”

“No,” Harry agreed. At least Ski wasn’t entirely blind, despite his unquestionable loyalty to Lee. “What concerns me even more is the potential for danger in these ‘spells’ he has. The attacks come without warning and can be severe, as you’ve already seen.”

Ski wet his lips. “Is it because of the alien, Sir? That thing that took us over?”

He nodded, deciding to be truthful. If Ski was assuming the responsibility for Lee’s safety, he had the right to know what he was up against. Quickly, he told the younger man about the invasive entity living inside of Lee.

“So it wasn’t killed by the electrical charge? It’s still there . . . inside of him? Hurting him?” Kowalski was plainly angered by the idea. “I don’t understand, Sir. Why can’t Dr. Madison do something to help him?”

“Because he’s limited without Lee’s consent, and right now our captain is being his usual pigheaded self.” He grinned faintly. Lee’s willfulness, at least, had not changed. “I need you to keep an eye on him, Kowalski. I’m letting him go against my better judgment which is why you need to be ready to abort if things get out of hand. You’re the pilot of that craft.”

“Sir, he outranks me.”

“He does, but he also trusts you. It’s why he chose you to go with him. Do you think he’d willingly surrender control of FS1 to just anyone?”

Kowalski seemed to recognize the enormity of Lee’s trust for the first time. He sucked in a breath and nodded. “I’ll do everything I can, Sir.” He shot a wary glance to Chip standing by the plotting table. Seaview’s executive officer looked ready to bite the head off anyone who crossed his path, his foul temper evident even from a distance. “If I don’t bring Captain Crane back in one piece Mister Morton will have me keel-hauled and hung up by thumbscrews.”

Harry laughed lightly, clapping him on the shoulder. “He is a bit overly protective, but he’s known Lee a long time. Now get below before the captain wonders what’s keeping you.”

“Aye, Sir.”

Harry watched him climb through the hatch and disappear down the access ladder. He worried his lower lip between his teeth, ignoring the cold knot in the pit of his stomach. FS1 was small and easily maneuvered. True, Seaview had come out on the short end of the stick the last time they’d gone head-to-head with the mutant hagfish, but the Flying Sub was quick enough to evade damage. Maybe he really would be able to study the eel and Lee would be satisfied in tracking the behemoth down.

And maybe the moon was made of green cheese.

Harry sighed. A short time later the yellow stingray shape of FS1 glided free of her launching bay, cutting cleanly through the water.

All that was left to do was wait. 

**********

It felt strange to Kowalski to be manning the controls while Seaview’s captain and ace FS1 pilot was reduced to checking figures and instrument panels. Crane dictated the course, having him backtrack to the point where sonar had first picked up a reading believed to be the hagfish.

Kowalski had to admit the creature was an ugly son-of-a-bitch. Hideous when it came right down to it. He’d caught a glimpse of it through the observation windows before it had buffeted Seaview during its last sketchy appearance. Like most of the crew, he’d adopted Riley’s quirky nickname, mentally dubbing it ‘Gilligan,’ though ‘Igor’ or ‘Quasimodo’ would have been a better fit. A sickly oatmeal-brown in color, the grotesque thing looked like a mobile intestinal track crowned with eye stalks, a flat shovel mouth and tentacles. Definitely a candidate for Creepfest Theater. If you wanted to give a kid nightmares, show him a picture of a giant mutant hagfish. Even thinking about the repellent beast made his skin crawl.

“Do you want me to hold to our present course, Skipper?”

It bothered him that Crane was so quiet. Even more, that he couldn’t judge how sick the man really was. Since launching, the captain had turned his head away several times, swiping at his nose with a balled up bloody handkerchief. There were drips of fresh blood on his shirt, and his features were strained, drawn with fatigue. He’d always been trim, a little too thin, but coupled with the illness, his slim physique made him seem almost fragile.

“That’s fine, Ski,” Crane told him, his usually quiet manner of speaking subdued even further. “Once you reach the coordinates I gave you, start circling outward, increasing your loop. Keep her low to the bottom. If that monster is hiding, odds are it’s buried in the silt.”

Kowalski nodded, trying not to be obvious in the way he studied the dark-haired man from the corner of his eye. Crane was only a few years older than he, but the lines of strain on his face made him seem aged. 

It really wasn’t fair. The captain had fought harder than the rest of them trying to resist that damn alien from outer space, and now he was paying for that defiance. Ski tried not to think about the thing living inside of him, hurting him, subjecting him to physical trauma every time it moved and dug deeper. He was just maneuvering the small yellow sub for another pass of the area, looping wider as instructed when Crane grunted softly and bowed his head, pressing his fingertips to his brow.

“Skipper?” Alarm boomeranged into Kowalski’s gut. “Sir, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Crane clenched his eyes and gave a minute shake of his head. “Just hold your course. I’ll be fine.”

And I’m a four-star admiral.

The ragged hitch in the captain’s breath told Kowalski he was anything but fine. As he watched, a trickle of blood leaked from Crane’s ear, dribbling onto his collar. Already encrusted with dried splotches, the fabric was stiff and dark, the color of an old penny. Kowalski thought about Nelson’s directive to return to Seaview should Crane have another attack and experienced a

yo-yo jolt of indecision. The man was obviously going through hell, yet he was strapped into the pilot’s chair fighting to conquer this latest onslaught for a reason.

“Sir, your ear…”

“I know.” Crane swore softly and sat upright, wiping the blood with his hand. The skin under his nose was wet and red, the shiny dampness oozing onto his lips. Forsaking his already saturated handkerchief, he unbuckled himself and shrugged from the flight jacket, dropping it to the deck. With a grimace of disgust, he dragged the back of his sleeve under his nose, using the absorbent khaki to mop up the blood.

Kowalski felt his gut crawl into his throat. No question about it - - the man should be in Sick Bay. “Here, Sir.” He dug into the pocket of his jumpsuit, offering a clean handkerchief.

“Thanks.” Crane’s fingers trembled as he accepted the fresh linen. “It’ll pass in a minute.”

He sank deeper into the chair, sliding down until his head rested against the back. Closing his eyes, he held the handkerchief cupped under his nose and waited out the spell. 

From the chalky pallor of his face, Kowalski guessed it wasn’t just the blood but that everything was spinning too. He’d seen men taken down by a crippling swell of vertigo. But Crane wasn’t any run-of-the-mill commander. He was ONI, which meant he’d been trained to ignore pain and discomfort. His skin looked like wax, drawn tight over his cheekbones, translucent and damp with sweat. Ski knew if Mister Morton were there he’d be reading his headstrong friend the riot act. Maybe it really was time to cut their losses.

“Skipper, I think we should go back. You’re not up for this.”

Crane kept his eyes closed, the handkerchief in place. It disturbed Kowalski to realize fresh blood seeped from his ear, but he no longer bothered to swipe it aside.

“I don’t need to be functional. You’re the pilot.”

“But, Sir, the admiral said if you had another attack I should abort, and we should return to Seaview. Those are my orders.”

Crane sat up slowly, wiping the last of the blood from his face. To Kowalski, it looked like he worried about moving too quickly, fearful he might black out. He blinked, those strangely expressive eyes making Kowalski feel as though he’d said something unconscionable. Sometimes it was hard reading Crane. He’d learned to watch the captain’s eyes as he knew Mister Morton and the admiral did. He’d grown better at plumbing the emotion he saw mingled among the iridescent flecks of green and gold, but still had a long way to go. 

“Kowalski, don’t tell me you’ve never had a nosebleed?”

He answered with a short chuff of laughter. “Come on, Skipper. What you’ve got is a lot more than a simple nosebleed. The admiral said…”

“The admiral’s not here. Just keep circling.” 

Who was he to argue? The man outranked him but, more than that, if Crane was determined to stay, Kowalski wasn’t going to let him down. He’d just have to cross his fingers and hope Crane knew his limitations. If he really was that badly off, surely he’d insist they’d head back to Seaview.

The thought didn’t settle nearly as well as he’d hoped. Part of Lee Crane’s problem was that he never seemed to know his limitations. From their very first cruise together, Crane had repeatedly put himself in jeopardy. Someone had forgotten to tell the man the meaning of the word ‘danger.’

And yet Kowalski couldn’t help appreciating that characteristic in Seaview’s often-too-reckless skipper. He’d done well under John Phillips, a man he’d greatly respected, but the marked difference in Crane’s command style had directly impacted him. Suddenly, he wasn’t just any senior rating, but the one Crane wanted whenever he went off the boat or was in need of a diving partner. He found himself entrusted with a whole new set of duties and responsibilities, his position branching into areas he’d never foreseen. Who would have thought he’d mesh so well with a man he’d once considered arrogant and aloof? After he’d gotten past his initial animosity and shock - - and yeah, resentment too (who-the-hell-was-he-kidding?) over Crane’s age - - everything fell into place. Before he could say ‘I-was-a-certified-moron’, his whole disposition changed. He was as comfortable with his new skipper as Crane was with him.

Under John Phillips he’d been an able seaman, but under Lee Crane his competency level had soared. And if he was honest, he liked the clout that came from being Crane’s chosen backup man. There’d been some initial ribbing from one or two jerkwads on the crew, but it hadn’t taken much to shut them up. It was probably why he clicked so easily with Crane. He’d always been a little reckless and had never learned to keep his mouth shut. 

He chuckled inwardly. He wasn’t the only one who spoke his mind.

It hadn’t taken long for any of them to realize their new captain had limited restraint when he disagreed with something. After his first shouting match with Nelson the crew had held a collective breath waiting for the hatchet to fall. Surprisingly, the admiral had been the one to back down. And although he’d been in a foul temper for hours afterward, anyone could see he watched Seaview’s new commander with grudging respect.

And now? Kowalski snorted softly. Nelson and Crane had one of the most complex relationships he’d ever seen, maintaining an intricate balancing act between father/son, boss/employee and superior officer/subordinate. If the admiral had been occupying FS1’s pilot seat right now, Kowalski had no doubt he’d turn the sub around and head back to Seaview, Crane’s protests be damned.

But - - as Crane had expertly pointed out - - the admiral wasn’t there, and he wasn’t ready to bag the mission.

Kowalski just couldn’t find it in him to argue the point. No matter how much he secretly worried over his captain’s health, he knew he’d damn well do whatever Crane wanted. He respected the man too much to second guess him. And, when it came right down to it, he had a burgeoning friendship with Crane. Lines between enlisted personnel and brass had always been strict, but Lee Crane blurred those lines on a consistent basis making no secret of his unorthodox confidence in his senior rating. There had been plenty of times the captain sought him out just to shoot the breeze, others when he’d specifically wanted an opinion on something. The first time Crane had asked for his thoughts on a particular matter, he’d been taken aback. After awhile he’d grown used to it.  

But it dumped a heavier burden on him too. Not only were the admiral and Mister Morton counting on him to make sure he got the captain back in one piece, but he didn’t want to let the skipper down either. No officer had ever placed such personal trust in him before. And bottom line, when he stripped away all the bullshit and red tape - - he genuinely liked Crane. 

He heard a blip from sonar and glanced over in time to see the other man focus on the instrument panel. 

“Large object 700 yards, approaching fast,” Crane murmured. “Hold your course, Ski. We may have found our hagfish.” He flipped several switches, readying the laser cannon.

The prep of firepower had Kowalski running interference. “Sir, I thought we were on a scouting mission only and were supposed to report our position if we found Gilligan?”

Crane frowned, his mouth twisting in sour amusement. “Not you too.” He ignored the direct question and looked back to the readout. “I’m going to have to talk to Riley about naming freaks of nature.” His gaze flicked out the view windows. “There. Do you see it?”

Kowalski followed his direction. Sure enough, the ugly monstrosity he’d first seen on Seaview was back. It seemed even larger now that they were viewing it from the Flying Sub. Its natural camouflage blended so well with the ocean bottom, he was certain it had been buried in the silt as Crane originally suggested. “Should I report our position to the admiral?” he asked.

Crane hesitated, a flicker of indecision on his face. His thumb hovered over the firing control for the laser cannon. Kowalski was sure he wanted to blast the thing out of the water.

“I’ll do it,” he relented at last, and depressed the microphone on the communications collar at his throat. “FS1 to Seaview. Admiral, this is Crane.”

“Go ahead, Lee.” Nelson’s reply was immediate, a marked note of urgency in his voice, as if he’d been waiting impatiently.

“Sir, we’ve located the hagfish and have visual contact. I have a clean shot with the laser cannon. Request permission to fire.”

“Negative. The fact you’re asking, tells me you’re not in any immediate danger.”

Crane ground his teeth. “Haven’t we tangled with this thing enough times?”

“Your coordinates, Captain,” Nelson insisted.

Kowalski held the craft steady, keeping a wary eye on the serpentine mass snaking across the ocean floor. As repulsive as it was there was something mesmerizing in the way it moved - - a fluid kind of grace, completely in contrast to its grotesque appearance. He listened as Crane relayed their coordinates over the mic. By the time he’d finished, the bulk of the creature had passed beneath FS1 and vanished from view. Kowalski immediately maneuvered into a steep bank, not at all surprised when Crane leaned forward, straining to see. 

“Skipper!” With a start, he realized the captain had never refastened his harness after shedding his flight jacket. Before he could point out the danger, the craft shuddered under a violent blow. Jarred by the impact he pitched forward, bodily slamming against his restraints. The nose took a sharp dive downward, and the frame popped, echoing with a clap like thunder. Sparks erupted from the main control panel, spewing upward in a vermillion geyser, swallowed almost immediately by darkness.  

He blinked rapidly, blinded by the dense blackness. Beside him, Crane groaned in pain. Kowalski heard a sickening thud as the skipper’s body struck the deck. Fighting for control of the craft, he wrenched back on the joysticks, clenching his teeth and holding fast when the engines whined in protest. Metal shrieked a banshee scream as the hull scraped over rock. He tried to ease up on the speed, but it was too late. The nose burrowed into the silt then bulleted upward, expending the last of its power in a spinning skate across the ocean floor. He only had time to register the faint outline of a towering mass of volcanic rock before FS1 struck.

He buckled with the blow, hanging suspended against the seat harness. It took him a moment to realize all motion had stopped, that the only sound he heard was his breath wheezing between his teeth. Mentally, he cataloged his bruises. Thankfully, nothing felt broken. That was when he remembered Crane.

“Skipper?” Breathing heavily, he fumbled open the clasps on his harness, dropping to the deck on all fours. He could just make out a faint outline, crumpled under the engine panel. Feeling his way in the darkness, he inched forward on hands and knees. 

“Captain.” Locating Crane’s wrist, he carefully felt his way up the other man’s arm until he could touch his face.

His gut plummeted to his feet when his fingers encountered blood.

**********

Lee stirred, opening his eyes to a weak sepia-tone glow. With a strange sense of distraction, he realized FS1’s emergency lighting had kicked in. He could hear someone fumbling around to his left, tinkering with what sounded like metal. He bit back a moan and shifted.

He was lying on his back, his flight jacket neatly folded and pillowed under his head.     

Kowalski.

He’d dispensed with his tie after his initial visit to Sick Bay, but the seaman had opened his collar too as if fearful he didn’t have enough air. Fortunately, the air revitalizing system in FS1 seemed to be functioning despite the sub being dead on the bottom.

He wished he could say the same for himself, his mind as slow as molasses. He sat up carefully, realizing the front of his shirt was stiff with dried blood in numerous places. A balled up cloth was on the deck beside him, mottled with ugly red blotches. Too many blotches. Had he really been bleeding that badly?

“Ski?” His voice came out a hoarse croak. He could see the rating’s legs as he stood at the drop-down circuitry panel, fiddling with the guts and wiring that would get them mobile again. He managed to get his shoulders propped against the bulkhead behind him but was alarmed to realize how weak he felt. Darkness swarmed before his eyes, threatening to pull him under before he blinked it away.

“Skipper!” Kowalski immediately stopped what he was doing, rounding the panel to crouch beside him. He held a screw driver in his left hand but gripped Lee’s bicep with his right, steadying him when the deck heaved sideways. “Sir, you shouldn’t move around. You’ve lost too much blood. You had another attack and were bleeding pretty badly from your ears and nose.”

Lee raised an unsteady hand and touched his face, realizing Kowalski had cleaned him up. The rating must have located a small cloth in the storage locker which explained the blood-stained rag on the deck. “What’s our status?” he managed, unwilling to dwell on the amount of blood he’d lost.

“Engines are down.” Kowalski still didn’t release him. “I think it’s a short, but I’m having a problem locating the connection.”

“Communications?”

Kowalski shook his head. “At least we’ve got air, and Seaview had our coordinates before we hit bottom.”

Lee tilted his head back, resting wearily against the bulkhead. He was about to ask after the hagfish when the hull creaked, straining under increased pressure. Immediately alert, he focused on the view window. The lighting was dim, but he could see enough to recognize the herculite was covered in fat, oozing globs of slime. 

“What the hell is that?” Even as he spat the question, he already knew. “Kowalski, where’s the damn eel?”

With a resigned shake of his head, the rating released him and sat back on his haunches. 

“Wrapped around us like a pretzel, Sir. It’s trying to bore through the hull.”

He swore under his breath. “I knew I should have killed the ugly S.O.B. when I had a chance.” Steadying one wobbly leg under him, he attempted to stand. Just that quickly the deck upended, pitching above his head, making him feel like a drunk after a three-day binge. He stumbled, reeling to the side, unable to maintain his balance.

Kowalski caught him before he could plummet to his knees. “Sir, you shouldn’t stand up. Your equilibrium is out of whack.”

That was only half of it. He was so shockingly light-headed, he teetered on the edge of passing out. “I’ll be all right.” He sagged against the rating, letting Kowalski support him. At least he wasn’t bleeding from the nose or ears. “We have to get that . . . monster,” he grimaced, revolted by the thought. “Off the hull. It could pop FS1 like a tin can.”

He passed a hand over his forehead, fighting off a crippling press of dizziness. “You keep trying to raise Seaview . . . get communications back online. I’ll work on the circuitry panel and try to get the engines going.”

Kowalski hedged. “Sir, I don’t think you’re in any condition to…” He stopped abruptly when the small sub groaned under pressure, louder this time. Both men tensed, listening as the strain raced through the hull plates, splintering outward like a shockwave from the epicenter of an earthquake.

Lee shot him a dark glare. “You hear that? You want that freak of nature imploding us?” Standing under his own strength, he shook off Kowalski’s grip. “I’ll be all right, Ski,” he assured in a softer voice, aware the rating watched him with concern. “Go check communications. If I need you, I’ll call.”

Kowalski wet his lips “Captain . . .”

Damn if he wasn’t getting as bad as Chip and the admiral. Lee decided to overlook his hesitation. “Check the laser cannon. If it’s operational, we might be able to bank a shot off that slab of volcanic rock and ricochet it back on the eel.”

“Like pool.” Kowalski latched onto the idea. “Kind of like calling your pocket.”

Lee grinned. “We’re going to sink the eight-ball if I’ve got anything to say about it.” 

He had a score to settle, and the beast wrapped around FS1 would work every bit as well as the repugnant thing ripping deeper into his head. He’d never really hated anything before but realized with a jolt, he vehemently detested the hagfish. He wanted to kill it - - blast it into a mass of pulpy, blood-soaked flesh.

For all the wrong reasons.

It had come to represent the alien that controlled him, a beast that had stripped away his will, leaving him vulnerable, exposed and weak. A filthy, disgusting monster that violated him.

For that, the hagfish would pay . . . because it was just as ugly, just as destructive, just as much an abominable mutant as the creature from outer space. If he was going to be strapped down to a table and pumped full of electricity in order to survive, something was going to ante up with its life.

Drawing strength from his anger, Lee concentrated on the circuitry panel.

Something was going to die.

**********

“How far?” Harry asked tightly.

At the plotting table, Chip did a quick calculation. “Twenty minutes should put us there.”

Twenty minutes without communications. Twenty minutes of not knowing what was happening to Lee and Kowalski. Had the hagfish turned hostile, or was FS1 just experiencing a routine communications glitch? He’d told Lee not to fire, but if attacked his captain would go on the offensive. Especially now when Lee was uncharacteristically aggressive, operating on a hair-trigger. Career Navy, his young commander had never been squeamish about pulling the trigger when the situation warranted, but he’d never been blood-thirsty either.

That all felt different now. Since his encounter with the alien, Lee seemed determined to make something - - anything - - pay for the trauma he’d been subjected to, was still being subjected to. Since he couldn’t take that hostility out on the alien, he’d decided to transfer his rage to the hagfish.

As a general rule of thumb it certainly wasn’t a creature to inspire sympathy. Hideous in appearance, hagfish feeding habits and slime-producing capabilities had led the scientific community to dub them the most disgusting of all sea creatures. With elongated bodies, paddle-like tails and a single nostril, their capability for producing seemingly limitless quantities of mucus made their behavior as revolting as their horrific appearance. When threatened or attacking they covered their opponent with slime then bored into their prey, literally eating it from the inside out. Harry had studied them in detail and knew they were capable of tying themselves into a knot. A common trick of the hagfish was to pass the knot down the length of its body, wiping away its own slime, freeing it to escape.

And somehow this repulsive, stomach-turning, gargantuan, mutated sea creature had become “Gilligan” to most of the crew. It was a freak of nature, but it was their freak of nature.

All of that aside, if it harmed Lee Crane he was going to blast it out of the water.

“Admiral, this is Dr. Madison. Please respond.”

Wrapped up in his thoughts, the intercom page caught him off guard. Refocusing with a grunt, he grabbed the nearest mic and depressed the call button. “Nelson here. What it is, Doctor?”

“I just wanted to let you know I have everything in place for whenever Captain Crane returns. Given the entity is only going to struggle more violently as it fights to survive, causing greater damage, I recommend the procedure be undertaken as soon as possible. I’m sure Doctor Jamieson would concur.”

Electroshock therapy. 

Was he really going to subject Lee to something so ghastly? Their return to Santa Barbara had been delayed by the detour with the hagfish, but they’d be docking soon enough. How would he ever face Alyssa, knowing he’d forced Lee to undergo the vile treatment? No matter how much he tried to convince himself it was for Lee’s own good, he mentally cringed at the thought. Yet there simply wasn’t another option. He just prayed Alyssa, and more importantly Lee, would forgive him.

“Very well, Doctor,” he told Madison through the mike. “I’ll have Captain Crane report to Sick Bay the moment he’s aboard. Nelson out.”

Across the plotting table, Chip eyed him suspiciously. “What was that about? What procedure was Madison talking about?”

He shook his head. “Not now. Let’s just concentrate on reaching the Flying Sub.” It was bad enough he was going to have to act the part of cruel dictator with Lee. The last thing he wanted to do was alert the captain’s best friend what was waiting for Lee when he returned to Seaview.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked forward into the nose, training his gaze out the windows. Sometimes caring about somebody meant you had to play the role of bastard in order to help them. 

Hopefully, when all was said and done, Lee wouldn’t hold it against him.

**********

Lee wiped sweat from his forehead, acutely aware of the growing tremor in his hands. It was getting harder to concentrate, everything around him taking on a surreal, floaty kind of haze. To make it worse, the bleeding had started again. He’d dragged his sleeve under his nose several times leaving the khaki wet and streaked with red. His head was pounding, the pain stabbing deep into his temples, mushrooming outward and forking into his jaw. Twice he’d had to steady himself by leaning into the bulkhead, rogue waves of dizziness washing over him without warning.

He’d made progress with the panel, coaxing a sputtering surge of life from the engines but the burst had been short-lived. It was taking all he had to remain on his feet, his knees closer to buckling with every second.

“Skipper . . .” Fiddling with the laser cannon, Kowalski eyed him doubtfully. “Sir, you’ve got no color left at all. I really think you should sit down. Mister Morton and the admiral will turn me into shark food if anything happens to you.”

Lee smiled wanly. There were very few crewmembers who’d feel comfortable enough being so vocal about his close relationships with Chip and Nelson. “I think I’ll have this repaired soon,” he responded as if that settled the matter, his attention shifting back to the circuitry board. “What about the cannon?”

“Operational. We should be able to bank a shot whenever you want to test it.”

Encouraged by the news, Lee started to push away from the panel but immediately thought better of it when the deck went into a tailspin. He gripped the panel, feeling the bite of wires and metal grids under his hands, his skin bleaching white with the pressure. A few more seconds and his knees would give completely.

“Take the shot,” he ordered, knowing he’d never be able to walk the distance to the cannon. He was far too weak and his equilibrium was gone. They had to do something soon before the hagfish buried them in slime. It had already covered the windows in a thick shroud of mucus. Even as he spoke, the hull creaked, straining to its limit as the eel tightened its hold.

Kowalski made an adjustment, looking through the lens of the firing mechanism and lining up the cross-hairs. “I’ve got it as close as I can, Skipper.”

The hull groaned under new strain. Lee felt himself slipping away, darkness crowding close at the edge of his vision. “Fire, Ski. Just take the shot and kill the damn thing.” He tightened his hold on the circuitry board.

“Aye, Sir.” Kowalski pressed the firing mechanism, sending a yellow beam cutting into the water like a bolt of lightning. It struck the mass of volcanic rock two hundred yards off the sub’s port side then ricocheted back, burrowing into the hagfish.

FS1 lurched to the side as the gargantuan eel convulsed beneath the impact. Lee was thrown into the bulkhead, one hand clinging to the frame for support. The eel’s tail dropped over the windows, battering the herculite panes. Sparks flew from the main control panel, and a surge of current crackled the length of the circuitry board. It arced into the bulkhead, boomeranging back on Lee. 

He gave a short, choked cry, driven to his knees by the flash of pain. A second later, his eyes rolled into his head and he dropped to the deck, unconscious.

**********

Kowalski stumbled across the deck as FS1 lurched again. Wrapped around the outside of the sub, the hagfish convulsed, writhing from the blast of the laser cannon. The lights coughed and sputtered, flickering like a strobe before hissing back to emergency power. In the garish glow, Kowalski spied Crane crumpled beneath the circuitry panel, his skin a sickly gray-white. Curled on his side, he lay with one arm stretched perpendicular to his body, the other draped limply across his stomach.

“Skipper?” Panicked, Kowalski felt for the pulse in Crane’s throat. He heaved a sigh of relief when he felt the steady beat beneath his fingers and realized the other man was still breathing. Damn, he needed Seaview, and he needed her in a hurry! He touched Crane’s cheek, swearing under his breath to note how cold and clammy the captain’s skin had grown. Fearing he might be going into shock, Kowalski rolled him onto his back. 

The movement sent a deluge of blood streaming from Crane’s right ear, vomiting a bloated, slug-like creature onto the deck. Spindly appendages branched from its body, pulsing and raw as exposed nerve endings. Kowalski watched in horror as it twisted in the grisly puddle of red, writhing like a full-bellied fish out of water. He felt his gorge rise. 

“Holy sh…” He stood, ready to squash the grotesque thing under his sneaker when it suddenly imploded, splattering blood across his trouser legs, Crane’s face and chest. The stench was horrific - - a rancid combination of spoiled meat, ozone and lichen-infested tree bark. Gagging, he turned his head away, breathing rapidly through his mouth. He heard Crane choke as the putrid reek dragged him toward consciousness.

“Captain?” 

Crane rolled away from him, coughing weakly, his back to Kowalski. Overhead, FS1 groaned loudly. The giant hagfish loosened its hold, and the craft tilted to the side, settling with a hard jolt as the eel heaved free. 

Kowalski sprawled onto the deck, catching himself before he could blunder into Crane and cause his captain further harm. He shook off the blow, casting a quick glance to the windows. Through the sticky veil of mucus coating the herculite, he spied the creature swimming away and breathed a silent prayer of thanks, grateful it had decided to seek prey elsewhere. 

“Ski?” Barely audible, Crane’s voice snagged his undivided attention. The stench in the sub was slowly dissipating, making it breathable again.

“Just take it easy, Sir. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” It was still leaking from the captain’s ear, dark as plum wine against his shockingly too-white skin. Kowalski settled his hand on Crane’s shoulder, touching him lightly, half fearful any sudden movement would cause the other man pain. He looked around for the rag he’d been using to tend to the blood and snagged it with shaking fingers. “Don’t move, Skipper. It’s probably better if you just stay still.”

Gently, he pressed the stained cloth to the underside of Crane’s ear. Barely coherent, the other man made a sound that sent Kowalski’s gut somersaulting into his throat. He swallowed hard. “Seaview’s on the way, Sir. I’m sure of it. Just hang on.”

But his hands were unsteady and his gut churned with acid. It was no longer the stench or even the blood, but the sickly, anemic hue of Crane’s skin. He was certain the captain was going into shock and glanced around quickly for something to raise his legs. How could someone look that ill and still recover? If only Seaview would reach them. The alien thing - - whatever the hell it was - - must have done damage when it slid free of Crane’s ear canal. What if that injury was permanent and his hearing was shot?

“Skipper.” He held his breath. Waiting . . . hoping . . . praying he was wrong. “Skipper, can you hear me?” 

No response.

His heart thudded like a boulder in his chest. Desperate, he tightened his fingers on Crane’s shoulder. “Sir?”

But the other man had lost consciousness again. To Kowalski it felt as if time stood still. And then he realized Crane’s breathing had grown steadier, the barest trace of color creeping back into his cheeks. Encouraged, he mopped splatters of blood from Crane’s face. The harsh lines of strain ravaging his features were easing now. Unconscious, he looked younger than his thirty-four years, far too young to be the commander of a nuclear sub.  

But he was the finest Kowalski had ever served with, and he was going to make damn sure nothing happened to change that. If nothing else, he vowed to get Crane back to Seaview in one piece. The sooner the man had medical attention, the better. At least the bleeding had stopped.

He was just starting to worry about how he was going to get communications operational when he spied Seaview moving into range beyond the windows.

“Cavalry’s here, Skipper.” Relieved, he settled back on his haunches. “Doc Madison will have you patched up and back home with Ms. Halston in no time.”

He grinned.

That, at least, was something his captain could look forward to.

**********

Lee stirred groggily, shaking aside the crushing weight of unconsciousness. It was like fighting his way through a dense fog, struggling to surface against the tide of a brutal undercurrent. He twisted, half aware he was lying on a bunk, the yellow glare of overhead lights knifing beneath his eyelids.

“Lee?” Someone asked softly.

Fingers closed over his wrist, hesitated briefly then slid up the inside of his arm. He heard a chair creak and felt a familiar presence hovering over him. It took a moment to realize the pain was gone, that he couldn’t smell or taste blood. He made his tongue move, forcing his eyelids open a crack.

“Admiral?”

“Right here, lad.” The hand on his arm tightened perceptively.

It suddenly struck him he was lying in Sick Bay, but had no memory of how he’d gotten there. For all he knew he might have already been subjected to Dr. Madison’s grisly ECT experiment, his mind fried by a controlled current of electricity. Either that or it was just a matter of time until he was hooked up to electrodes. Hadn’t the admiral made it clear that was his fate when he returned to Seaview? 

They’d had a deal. Blackmail, when it came right down to it, but he’d been angry enough and desperate enough to buy the conditions. Now when it was time to pay the piper, he couldn’t silence a grunt of alarm. Wedging his elbows beneath him, he wrenched free of Nelson’s grip, struggling to sit upright.

“Whoa! Take it easy!” The admiral clamped a restraining hand on his shoulder, pressing down when he tried to squirm free. “You’re on Seaview, Lee. Just stay put.”

But the thought of what awaited him made him grimace and fight the restriction. He clamped a hand over the edge of the bunk, preparing to swing his legs to the floor. The hasty movement sent everything tumbling into a tailspin. He was shocked to realize how weak he was, his stamina depleted by the blood he’d lost. Light-headed and drained, he fell back against the pillows, his face damp with sweat.  

“You win. I’m too tired to fight you.” His chest rose and fell on a heavy breath. “Or did you already do it?” He searched his mind, looking for holes in his memory. His eyes shifted to Nelson, his gaze diamond hard, layered with misery underneath. He’d never thought of the admiral as someone who’d deliberately hurt him, but Nelson had made it clear he had every intention of subjecting Lee to electroshock the moment he returned to Seaview. If anything, he was surprised he wasn’t already strapped to a table in preparation of the vile procedure.    

Nelson frowned, disturbed by his reaction. He looked momentarily confused until something clicked to place in his head. “I see.” The words were spoken with a weary grin of indulgence. “No, Captain. No one’s laid a hand on you except to check you over and make sure you weren’t seriously hurt. You took a jolt of current from the circuitry panel on FS1. You’re lucky it ricocheted through the bulkhead.”

Lee’s brow creased as the memories crowded close - - FS1 crippled on the bottom, the hagfish wrapped around it like a doughy pretzel. Kowalski had used the laser cannon, banking a shot off a slab of volcanic rock to rebound on the eel. It had convulsed beneath the impact, battering FS1, sending a heated surge of current through the circuitry panel. The recoil leaped from the bulkhead, slicing through his sleeve. He could still remember the scorched flash-smell of singed fabric. A glance at his forearm revealed a two-inch gauzy white bandage. He guessed it covered a burn but didn’t feel any pain. Judging by the slightly loopy feeling in his head, Madison had doped him up with something.

Exhaling, he pressed the long fingers of his left hand to his temple. “Where’s Kowalski? Is he all right?”

Lee knew he should never have set foot on the Flying Sub. Chip had been right - - he hadn’t been in any kind of shape to play tracker, much less hunt down a giant sea mutation like a common whale. Yet Kowalski had done everything he’d asked, even helping him through several crippling seizures when Lee could barely function on his own. He wouldn’t have been comfortable with just anyone. Fortunately, Kowalski was completely at ease with him, relaxed enough to tread the line between duty, concern, and speaking his mind when needed.

“Kowalski’s fine,” Nelson assured. He inched his chair closer, shifting to get comfortable. “We found you not long after you passed out. You’ve only been back aboard a little over an hour.”

Lee wet his lips. “So you and Madison have been patiently waiting for me to regain consciousness? I suppose I have to sign some detailed consent form before you force me to undergo electroshock. Otherwise it wouldn’t be legal - - even if it is blackmail.” He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice, but it bled through anyway.

Nelson scowled openly but Lee ignored him, looking away. Sick Bay appeared the same as always, neat and spotless. The other racks were empty which told him Kowalski had not been hurt, the doors to Madison’s office tightly closed. Clamping his teeth, he refocused on Nelson. “I would have thought you’d have everything set up by now.”

“You’re determined to paint me as Dr. Frankenstein, aren’t you?” The admiral gave a soft grunt, tugging distractedly at his collar. “It was never about hurting you, Lee. It was about saving you. I thought it was best.”

Was. 

He couldn’t help noticing the tense. “What about now?”

“Now there’s no need.” Nelson smiled faintly. “That electrical charge you took on FS1 did the trick. The creature is dead. That’s all I ever wanted. Kowalski saw the wretched thing slide from your ear canal and implode. Madison confirmed it with x-rays and a cat scan the moment you were back on board.”

“It’s gone?” Hopeful, Lee held his breath.

“Completely. Aside from extreme fatigue - - caused by the blood you’ve lost - - and what will undoubtedly become a painful earache for several days, you’re as good as new. Madison gave you a shot to help with the pain, plus plasma and some boosters to rebuild your blood. He has a dose of pills lined up for when you’re off the boat. We’ll be docking in Santa Barbara in a little over three hours.”

Lee lifted his hand, fingering the outside of his ear. He winced, hissing through his teeth when pain flared sharply into his ear canal.

“It’s going to be sore for awhile.” Deliberately, Nelson tugged his hand away. “You’ve been through an ordeal but haven’t suffered any permanent damage from what Madison can decipher. The creature was composed primarily of your own blood, infused with a smaller amount of alien tissue. It was able to expand in your body, but when it passed through your ear canal, its path was mostly fluidic. Madison wants to give you a hearing test to be on the safe side, but everything indicates you’ll be fine, Lee.” He grinned slightly. “If anything, I’d say you’ve earned the right to have Alyssa fuss over you for several days.”

Alyssa. How was he ever going to explain recent events to her? He’d be better off telling her he had a bad ear infection and leaving it at that. He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily. She understood his job often came with risks, but he suspected she’d draw the line at being taken over by an alien from outer space.

Strangely, the thought no longer brought the bitter tang of anger it had before. The memories were no less horrific but rather than allowing them to rule him, he was able to move past them. He’d encountered a monster and survived. He’d beaten the odds.

“What about the hagfish?”

“Gilligan?” Nelson chuckled. “Kowalski hit it with the laser but didn’t do any real damage . . . just shook it up enough to convince it to move on.”

“So it’s still out there?”

“I’m afraid so.” Nelson tilted his head, studying him openly. “You realize if it hadn’t been for the hagfish, that bolt of electricity never would have ripped through the circuitry panel…”

“…and that thing would still be living inside of me,” Lee finished for him. He thought about it a moment, surprised the hatred he’d once felt for the eel had faded too. “So what you’re trying to tell me is that I owe my life to Gilligan?”

“That’s certainly one way of looking at it. If we ever cross paths with it again - - which is a distinct possibility - - you may change your mind about how you feel.” Nelson shrugged. “No question it’s a tenacious creature. All of that aside, I find the situation amusing.”

“Amusing?” He didn’t see the connection.  

“The damn thing has a personality. You do realize you just called it ‘Gilligan.’” Nelson grinned broadly. “It will be interesting to see if that name actually makes it into your logbook.”

Lee chafed at the idea, affronted. “Sir…”

Nelson’s smile thinned with fond affection. “Go to sleep, lad. You look tired.” He squeezed the younger man’s shoulder. “I promise to wake you when we dock. Chip is chomping at the bit to see you, but if I tell him you’re sleeping, he’ll bide his time. In the meantime, you can definitely use the rest.”

He couldn’t argue with that. As much as he would have liked to be on the conn when Seaview reached Santa Barbara, he could see the wisdom in grabbing a few hours of solid sleep. Afterward he’d catch up with Chip and let his friend chew him out as only Chip could. He had an inkling his latest stunt was going to send the exec on a record-setting tirade about stupidity and pigheaded, moronic captains.

“Thanks, Admiral.” Sinking deeper into the pillows, he indulged in a yawn. Chip’s pending lecture aside, he could already feel his eyes drifting shut.

Nelson stood, ready to leave, then hesitated at his bedside. “Lee?”

 

“What is it, Sir?” He cracked his eyes expectantly, hearing the marked change of inflection in the admiral’s voice. 

“You do realize it was never my intent to deliberately hurt you?” Uncomfortable, Nelson faltered. “. . . by insisting on the ECT procedure? I did what I thought I had to in order to help you.” He grimaced. “Even if it did amount to blackmail.”

Lee squirmed, wanting to forget the whole episode. “I know that, Sir.” Of course he did, but the knowledge didn’t make Nelson’s terms any easier to swallow. If he’d really balked, if he’d been adamant about not wanting to submit himself to something so . . . so . . . vile, would Nelson have persisted or let him off the hook? Afraid of the answer, he looked away.

“I wish you’d tell me what it is about electroshock that upsets you so much,” Nelson said quietly. He saw Lee about to protest and shook his head. “And don’t tell me it doesn’t upset you, because that kind of bull just isn’t going to fly.”

Lee sighed. Discussing Ginny wasn’t an option. There were certain things that could never be shared . . . horrors even he wanted to forget. Rather than dredge up the past, he searched for something closer to the present. “I don’t know.” A lie, but it sounded good. He looked away, biding his time, considering what he wanted to say. When his gaze returned to Nelson, he knew he’d found an angle the admiral would believe. One that twisted his gut and left him exposed just thinking about it.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to have my control taken away again. The alien had already stripped me of my will. What you and Madison wanted to do would have been no different.” He winced, realizing it was true - - strapped to a table, vulnerable, unable to control what was happening to him. “It was just one more form of submission.”

Nelson nodded his understanding. “I do see your point, Lee, but I hope you see mine. I wish I could say I’d behave differently in the future, but the truth is I’d do the same thing over again if I thought it would save your life.”

He swallowed hard, uncertain if he should be angry, troubled or gratified. How did you argue with someone who vowed to hurt you in order to save you? He decided to take the easy way out. “Hopefully, it will never come to that, Sir, but I do appreciate the warning.”

Nelson smiled. “Fair enough. Now get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we reach Santa Barbara.”

Lee nodded, content to let his eyes drift shut. He hadn’t slept well in days and looked forward to a few hours of uninterrupted rest.

Free of nightmares.

Free of monsters.

*****End*****

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