Tailspin
A short ficlet with a series of missing and extended scenes for the fourth season episode “Fatal Cargo.” As silly as that white gorilla was, I figured I could do something with Leo Brock and his hatred for Lee. You can’t just gag and dump the captain without having a fic writer come along and want to dig a little deeper <g>
Thanks to my wonderful beta readers, Theresa, Liz and Diane! If you’d like to comment on this or any of my stories, you can find me at veniceplace12@verizon.net
Lee Crane was dragged back to consciousness by the steady hum of Seaview’s motors. Curled on his side on the deck, he could feel the vibration of the large turbines through the metal plates beneath him. Disoriented, he blinked and tried to raise his head.
Bad idea.
A hot lick of pain exploded behind his eyes, launching his gut into a triple-gainer. He swallowed convulsively.
Someone had tied and gagged him, then dumped him for near-dead. He could taste copper on his tongue and feel the tacky wetness of fresh blood in the corner of his lips. The wadded ball of cloth in his mouth had him biting back a combination of rage and panic. His wrists and ankles were bound tightly with rope, restricting what little movement he had. He writhed sluggishly, trying to remember how he’d ended up in such a wretched predicament.
Leo Brock.
Not just any fool but a dangerous fool.
He remembered heading to Nelson’s cabin, blindsided when Brock had caught him unaware with a blow to the back of his neck. Chip would have called it a cheap-shot; Lee considered it cowardice. Either way, it had knocked him out cold.
Minutes later when he’d come to, Brock had been struggling to manhandle him down a metal flight of stairs. He’d been too dazed to put up much of a fight, allowing Brock to get the best of him and shove him down the steps. His ribs and right hip still pulsed with pain, tender from the fall, but his wrist was the worst. That had been a special parting gift from Brock.
Lee tried not to think about it, but the agony was like a witch-blade when he moved. The damn thing had to be broken. He blinked up at the bulkhead trying to figure out where he was. The compartment was small, the vibration of the engines stronger than usual. There were tanks behind him, interlocked with squat elbows of piping. If he could just get his legs under him . . . maybe scrunch to a sitting position and brace his back against the tanks.
The moment he moved, fire exploded in his wrist. The pain crashed over him in a hot wave, cresting in his head and gut at the same time. He gagged . . . rolled his head to the side, certain he was going to be sick. Not now. The engines grew fainter, the pain pressing at him from all sides.
Darkness came quickly, descending like a vulture, eager to pull him under. Lee tumbled into the void. It closed over him like the engulfing storm surge of an ocean, swallowing him whole.
**********
Chip Morton’s mind was on several things at once. Priority number one was getting Dr. Blanchard’s rampaging white gorilla under control. He didn’t care squat that the thing was reputed to be rare or that Blanchard had dumped over a year of scientific research into the ape. Blanchard was dead, killed by his own ‘experiment,’ and right now the test subject was turning Seaview into a city-block of destruction. Hopefully, the search details would find the wretched beast before it could do any more damage.
Leo Brock needed to get his lazy six in gear and do whatever was necessary to subdue the monster. For a man who’d been Blanchard’s only assistant and who professed to know all of the doctor’s research, Brock had been awfully scarce since he’d come aboard.
And then there was Lee.
How could the captain of the boat suddenly go missing? Without explanation?
Chip tried to quell the sick feeling in his gut. What if the gorilla had gotten to Lee? What if his friend was lying hurt somewhere, unable to call for help? For Lee to suddenly vanish and not answer intercom pages, he’d have to be incapacitated. Or worse.
Aggravated, Chip tried to keep his mind on the matter at hand. Following behind Chief Sharkey, he quickly climbed a service ladder to the inspection hatch above the missile room. Corridor C had been sealed off due to the search for the gorilla, leaving the ladder as the only exit. It was a circuitous route, but it would allow them to hook up with the detail and aid in the search.
Overhead, he heard Sharkey undog the hatch. A moment later, diluted light streamed down from the compartment above. Chip was just stepping through the opening, Sharkey lending him a hand, when the chief suddenly drew up short.
“Mister Morton.” he blurted. “It’s the skipper.”
Chip followed his gaze, his heart lurching into his throat. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or terrified. “Lee!” His friend was out cold, bound and gagged.
Dropping to his knees at the younger man’s side, Chip fumbled with the gag, his heart hammering in his chest. Cold fear knifed through him. Beside him, Sharkey worked at freeing Lee’s wrists and ankles. The captain was far too still and, for one horrific second, Chip thought he might be dead. The chief tugged the last bit of rope from his wrists and he came awake with a jerk as though prodded to consciousness by a sudden flare of pain.
“What happened? Where is this place?” Lee struggled to sit upright. The cloud of confusion in his eyes was enough to make Chip’s mouth go dry.
“Just take it easy,” he coaxed.
“Is he okay?” Sharkey asked
“He’s alive, but he’s been hurt.”
“I’ve got to find the admiral,” Lee objected, still dazed but clearly agitated.
Chip pressed a hand to his shoulder, hoping to still his restlessness. “Sure. When you’re stronger.”
“We better not try to move him alone, Sir,” Sharkey suggested. “I’ll get some corpsmen to help.”
“Go ahead.” Chip’s eyes stayed on Lee as Sharkey exited by way of a secondary service ladder. “You okay?” he asked, concerned.
Lee met his gaze. “Yeah. I . . .” He looked away, but not before Chip caught a grimace of pain on his face.
“Do you remember what happened?”
Lee slumped back against the tanks behind him. “Brock,” he said tiredly. “He caught me when I wasn’t looking and knocked me out cold. I came to a bit later. We struggled and he threw me down a flight of steps.”
Chip blanched, the spike of anger he felt every bit as volatile as the shock. “What the hell for?”
“It’s a long story.” Lee lifted his right hand and filtered it back through his hair.
Chip noticed his fingers were trembling and that his pupils were enlarged. Shock. Judging by the tightly drawn lines of his face, he was in a significant amount of pain, but Chip had no way of gauging his injuries. Bruising? Battered ribs? How long would it take Sharkey to get back with the corpsmen?
Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he leaned forward and thumbed blood from the corner of Lee’s mouth. “You can tell me about it later. Right now I want you to take it easy.”
Lee shook his head. “I want Brock detained before he does any more damage.” He winced, cradling his left arm close to his body. “Get Security on it. He’s hiding something, and my guess is it’s tied to Blanchard’s experiment.”
Chip grimaced. “It’s a little late for that. I don’t know who’s responsible for that lunatic ape, but it’s out of control. And it’s on the loose, ripping Seaview apart. The whole sub’s in a tailspin. Security still doesn’t have the damn thing pinned down.”
“What?”
“They’re working on it, Lee.”
“That’s not enough. I’ve got to get to the admiral.” Determined, he climbed to his feet, striking out a hand to steady himself. As he leaned into the bulkhead, his left wrist buckled unexpectedly, yielding to the pressure. He gave a sharp grunt of pain, his face going white with shock.
Chip caught his elbow. “You’re hurt.”
“No. It’s nothing.”
“The hell it is. You’re shaking.”
“Chip.” Lee raised his head, and this time there was steel in his eyes. “I’ll take care of it when I have time. Right now, Seaview is more important. Let’s get out of here.” He didn’t wait for a debate, but headed for the service ladder connected to the upper corridor.
Chip bit back a retort, knowing any protest he made would be useless. Lee’s single-mindedness was quickly becoming a fatal flaw. One day it was going to cost him more than he could pay. The upshot was that Chip knew any suggestion he made would simply be overridden by order of rank. An inescapable reality that grated on his nerves given he knew he was in the right.
If he’d had any doubt Lee was hurting, that suspicion was visibly confirmed by the way the captain scaled the ladder. He moved gingerly, careful of his left hand. Chip noticed that he barely used it, bracing the side against the rungs rather than gripping them, relying solely on his right hand to climb. When they stepped into the corridor, Lee gripped the pole for the overhead stairs with his good hand. Chip did the same, but he had a feeling the younger man was holding on solely as a means to remain upright.
“Take it easy,” he cautioned. His friend looked pale and ragged.
“I’m all right,” Lee insisted. He nodded toward the stairs. “Go up to the control room.”
He should have expected as much. He wished to hell Nelson were there to order the stubborn fool into Jamieson’s clutches. “You’d better have the doc take a look at you in Sick Bay. You might have a concussion.” Among other things, you idiot!
“I said I’m all right. Go up to the control room.” Lee paused, drawing an uneven breath. He looked worn out to Chip, not altogether steady. “I’ve got to find the admiral.”
That was something at least. Nelson would take one look at him and realize he was pushing his limits. They had a rampaging gorilla on their hands, but they couldn’t afford Lee collapsing or blundering into the berserk monster when it was all he could do to stay on his feet. It was against his better judgment but, at least in the control room, he could radio Jamie and share his suspicions about Lee. “All right.”
Chip’s eyes dropped to his friend’s wrist. He was certain he’d caught a glimpse of mottled bruising when Lee had been scaling the ladder, but the younger man’s sleeve obscured it now. He knew the rope had left burn marks on Lee’s wrists, but this was more - - the kind of ugly discoloration that came from deep contusions and blood beneath the skin. He suspected Lee’s wrist was broken, at the very least, badly sprained. It would explain the drawn look on his face, the almost sickly whiteness to his skin.
He wanted to stay, to say more, but he had his orders. Lee might hear him out, but Captain Crane would not. Eighteen years of friendship and four years of working closely together told Chip what he already knew - - he wasn’t going to win this one.
Resigned, he headed for the control room.
**********
Lee heard Nelson’s voice boom from the intercom. “The gorilla is headed for the circuitry corridor. Security details lay after him on the double.”
He set out at a jog, ignoring the thrumming ache in his head, the battered pull of his right hip. Everything and everyone would come together in that corridor - - Nelson, the gorilla, the security details and Brock.
The name kindled a sick churning in his gut. He remembered waking dazed and gagged in the inspection hatch . . . Brock bent over him, grunting with effort as he tied Lee’s ankles with a thick piece of rope.
He’d tried to move - - his hands were still free - - but he was barely conscious, and the pain in his skull kept him plastered to the deck. He remembered moaning through the gag and how Brock had chuckled with pleasure at the sound.
“Oh, that’s good. I hope to hell you’re hurting, Crane. I owe you. You know I do.”
He was still trying to figure that one out when Brock hoisted a pipe wrench in his hand. The man towered over him as he lay on the deck, looking down with grim satisfaction. “You left your mark on me when you made me look like a fool. Now I’m going to do the same to you.”
He closed his eyes, swimming in a web of pain and watery half-light. Brock was still yammering on . . . something about how he’d waited for the moment, even dreamed of it. But nothing made sense to Lee and his body seemed incapable of movement. He tried to get a hand under him but Brock shoved him back and he rolled limply, unable to support himself.
Brock grabbed his left arm, stretching it across the deck. Lee gave a grunt when the man’s knee pressed on his elbow, pinning him in place. Too confused to understand what was happening, he watched Brock heft the wrench above his head. It hung for a moment, suspended in the air and, in that fleeting-phantom second, he understood what the other man planned to do.
Unable to escape, he steeled himself for the pain.
The blow jerked his stomach inside out, the gag muffling his scream. He felt the small bones in his wrist shatter, crushed beneath the weight of the wrench. Nausea and agony boomeranged to his head, cresting in one punishing wave. The room swam, spinning like a boat in a whirlpool. He choked, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath through the gag.
“Consider that payback.” With a sneer, Brock tugged Lee’s arms behind him.
He felt the bite of rope on his wrists and moaned as the pain spiked higher. Brock gave one fierce tug and the shock to his broken wrist was like a lightning bolt, streaking straight to his head. He didn’t remember passing out but, when he awoke later, groggy and in pain, he was alone. Looking back on it now, he was surprised Brock hadn’t stayed to gloat. He’d known from their first encounter the man despised him, but he’d never suspected how deeply that hatred ran.
He didn’t have time to sort through it now. His sub was in danger, a hostile element on the loose. He headed for the circuitry corridor, ignoring the ache in his head and the throbbing agony of his wrist.
**********
Lee rounded the corner to the sight of Kowalski and Patterson out cold. He barely had time to register the angry roar of the gorilla or catch the blur of white charging toward him. He spied a rifle on the deck and jerked it upright, raising it to fire, but his broken wrist made him clumsy and slow. The ape was on him before he could pull the trigger.
The reek of animal sweat and matted fur engulfed him. Enraged, the maddened beast hurled him toward the deck with strength to rival King Kong. Lee was swatted aside as easily as a fly. He tried to angle his shoulder to take the brunt of the blow, but his damaged wrist struck the deck first, buckling under his weight. The world exploded in a searing whitewash of agony.
There was a pop in his ears followed by a loud ringing. The corridor shifted out of skew, reeling at a drunken angle. He could still hear the beast roaring, the sound muddied and seemingly far away. From somewhere in the distance came a rush of footfalls followed by a shout. Then there was only the swaddling pall of darkness and a familiar cold void that had cocooned him before.
Lee blacked out.
**********
“Lee.”
He woke, blinking up at Nelson. The admiral was crouched at his side, one hand cupping his cheek. The older man’s eyes were bright with concern, a deep furrow of concentration on his face. “It’s all right, lad. Don’t try to move.” He swept his thumb upward, gently tracking it over Lee’s cheek. “I’ve sent for Jamie. We’ll get you to Sick Bay.”
“No. I . . .” Confused, he tried to shift. Everything hurt, the bulk of pain rooted in his mangled wrist. He wet his lips and tried to turn his head, rewarded with a buffeting wave of agony. “Ughnn . . .”
“Easy,” Nelson coaxed, stroking his cheek again. “Your pupils are dilated. You’ve got a bad concussion, and you’re probably in shock.”
That didn’t make sense. He’d been together enough to pick up the rifle. “Kowalski . . . Patterson . . .” he managed.
“Both are fine. We got the gorilla too. Patterson’s with the detail hauling the carcass to the cargo area. Kowalski’s behind you.”
“Right here, Skipper.” Kowalski shuffled around, squatting on his haunches beside Lee. “That thing tossed me around like a ragdoll but nothing’s broken.”
“Admiral Nelson, this is the exec,” Chip’s voice sounded across the intercom.
Nelson frowned, clearly not wanting to leave Lee’s side. “Kowalski,” he said. “Stay close to him.”
Lee saw his opportunity as Nelson moved away to answer the mic. “Help me up, Ski.”
The rating hedged. “Sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He didn’t wait for assistance but struggled to a sitting position. Unfortunately, that was as far as he got, vertigo and pain slamming into him in equally vicious measure. Unable to stop a moan, he slumped against Kowalski.
“I got you, Skipper.” Ski hooked him around the shoulder, holding him upright. Exhausted, Lee closed his eyes, breathing raggedly. “Brock?” he asked.
Kowalski hedged. “Leo Brock’s dead, Sir. He got caught up with that ape of his in the circuitry room. According to the admiral, he was the one making the thing go nuts in the first place.”
Lee nodded. He should have expected as much based on his experiences with Brock in the past. At least he knew Seaview was safe. Given the high-velocity rifles Ski and Pat had resorted to, he feared what kind of damage the beast had done while he was unconscious. The sub could be repaired. Hopefully, the crew was safe.
Once more, he tried to get his legs under him. “Kowalski,” he said, knowing it would be enough. The rating could read him almost as easily as Nelson and Chip.
Ski helped him stand, careful of his left wrist. He’d obviously noticed the way Lee had been favoring it. “The admiral called for Dr. Jamieson while you were out, Skipper,” he said, hovering protectively close.
Lee nodded. Sick Bay was the last place he wanted to be, but he knew his wrist was broken and needed attention. While he was there he might as well let Jamie take a look at his ribs and hip and give him something for the throbbing in his head.
“Whatever Will orders,” Nelson said, picking up on the tail end of their conversation as he approached. “You’re going to follow his instructions to the letter, Captain.”
Lee opened his mouth to protest but the severity of Nelson’s expression stopped him.
“I just brought Chip up to date on the situation,” the admiral continued. He eyed Lee suspiciously. “He says you have a broken wrist.”
Lee was tempted to ask when and where Chip had earned his medical degree but forced the retort silent. He knew his friend was only looking out for him. And, if he were honest, the pain was starting to take a toll. “Maybe,” he admitted grudgingly.
“Let’s see.” Nelson looked pointedly at his wrist.
Resignedly, Lee unbuttoned his cuff and gingerly slid the sleeve back. Even he blanched at the extent of the ghastly red and black bruising. At his side, Kowalski gave a low whistle. The wrist was swollen and hideously discolored.
“That looks bad, Skipper.”
Nelson took his hand, careful as he turned it over to inspect the extent of the discoloration. “How did this happen?”
Lee wet his lips. “Brock.”
Nelson raised his eyes. “Are you going to explain that?”
“Not now, Sir.” Actually, the more he thought about it, Sick Bay didn’t sound like such a bad idea. If he could lie down for a few hours, sleep off the headache and most of his body aches, he’d be ready to tackle command with a clear head. “I think I’ll go see Jamie and get it over with.”
“You sound like a condemned man, Lee.” Nelson’s mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. “Kowalski, see that he gets there in one piece.”
“Aye, Sir.”
An escort. That was all he needed. Especially given they’d probably encounter Jamie and a contingent of corpsmen halfway there. At least the admiral was letting him walk - - even if Kowalski did keep a hand cupped under his elbow to steady him.
“Come on, Ski,” Lee said. “You can tell me everything that’s happened on the way there.”
***********
He should have known Jamie was going to be tough on him.
Lee ended up confined to Sick Bay for a full day, then placed on cabin-rest for the remainder of the trip back to Santa Barbara. It was bothersome not having the use of his left hand, his wrist encased in a cast, but he slowly adapted to the limitations - - albeit with a lot of grumbling.
He’d suffered several ugly bruises to his right hip and ribs from his tumble down the stairs. Nothing was broken, but it was painful as hell in the morning, when he tried to get out of bed.
Jamie allowed him to wander the sub as long as he didn’t poke his nose into any operations. Restless throughout most of the day, Lee found he was worse in the evenings. Fortunately, by 0800 tomorrow Seaview would reach Santa Barbara. He tried to occupy himself by reading a book, but he was feeling better, most of his energy back, and that made him edgy. He’d already changed for the night but had the sudden urge to go roaming. Snatching a blue robe from his closet, he shrugged it over his white pajamas and headed down the corridor to see Nelson.
The admiral was still up, fully dressed, immersed in reviewing Dr. Blanchard’s notes on his test gorilla. He was surprised to see Lee but appreciated the diversion. Completely at ease with the older man, Lee made himself at home, plopping down on Nelson’s bunk. It was an odd liberty to take with a four-star admiral but Nelson had come to expect and even welcome such casual familiarity from him.
They talked for awhile, briefly touching on Brock before Nelson locked Blanchard’s notes in his wall safe, declaring the scientist’s information best kept from the rest of the world. “You still haven’t told me how you broke your wrist,” he said, turning back toward Lee. “Did it happen when Brock threw you down the stairs?”
Lee shook his head. Nelson already knew how he’d ended up incapacitated while Blanchard’s gorilla tried to tear Seaview apart. “No. He already had me partially tied up and gagged when he did it. He, um . . .” Lee cleared his throat. “. . . had my arm pinned down and battered it with a wrench. He said he owed me.”
Outraged, Nelson took a step closer. “What? You mean the bastard deliberately...”
“It goes back several years, Admiral. He’s hated me for a long time.”
“That still doesn’t explain...” Nelson huffed out an angry breath, raking a hand through his hair. “What the devil would possess a man to...?”
“You said it yourself, Sir,” Lee cut him off. “He was insane.”
Nelson stopped beside the bunk, watching him levelly. “That’s not why he did this to you, Lee. Not even why he went after you.”
“No.”
He waited while Nelson sat beside him. He’d pretty much forgotten the ONI mission that had sent him into the jungle where he’d crossed paths with Leo Brock but, obviously, Brock had not.
“He was part of a research team,” Lee explained. “It was composed of several scientists from a well-known pharmaceutical company doing contract work for the Navy. They ran into complications - - illness, weather, a government coup on the island nation where they were stationed. Basically, it was a mess. I headed the retrieval team that was sent to get them out.”
“Go on,” Nelson coaxed.
“Several of the scientists were sick; one had died. Brock tried to throw his weight around and take over. There were ruins involved - - part of an ancient city they’d stumbled upon deep in the jungle. The natives warned them to leave it alone, but Brock was convinced there was hidden gold and wouldn’t listen. Between his cowardice and his greed, he almost got everyone killed. I finally had enough and decked him. Even the research group had turned on him. He went down like a sack of bricks and everyone cheered. After that, I ordered his hands tied, and I gagged him until we were clear of the hostiles.”
“You humiliated him.”
Lee nodded. “It wasn’t my intention - - I didn’t have an option - - but that’s the way he saw it. More than that, he said I ruined him . . . that after the way I shamed him, word got out and no one would touch him.”
“No one would touch him because he was incompetent and unbalanced. He’s lucky Blanchard took a chance on him.”
“That doesn’t change the fact he never forgave me for what I did. I don’t know, Admiral . . .” Lee shrugged. “For all I know he might have been planning to come back later and kill me when he dumped me in that inspection hatch. He was a user and a climber, riding the coattails of other people’s fame. The man was completely without ethics. I knew from the moment he stepped aboard Seaview there was going to be trouble.”
“We do seem to attract our share of mad scientists.”
Picking up on the trace of humor in his voice, Lee grinned. “Not everyone has the same moral compass you do, Admiral.”
“Or you, Captain.” Nelson gripped his shoulder, grinning affectionately. “I guess that makes us a good match.”
“You’ll get no argument from me, Sir.”
In every way that Brock had been disreputable, Nelson was honorable. In every way Brock had despised him, Nelson stood by him. Not just now, Lee knew, but for the future to come. He wasn’t happy to be sidelined with a broken wrist or restricted by Jamie’s orders for cabin-rest, but between Nelson and Chip and their constant support, it made even those obstacles tolerable. It was all just a matter of adjustment.
And the loyalty of friends.
*****End*****
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