Gluttony

by kashkow

Sometimes you can take the measure of a man by the enemies that he has...Part 3 of the 'Seven Deadly Sins' cycle.

Gluttony

By Ellen H.

Author's Note: Number three in the "7 Deadly Sins" series. Off on another left turn I'm afraid. The muse, Hortense, is having a vacation and has left me to my own devices. This is the result….. I went with a slightly different view on the gluttony angle, but then it's hard to write an adventure story about a guy who overeats.

Chapter 1

Captain Lee Crane, sitting in the nose of his submarine Seaview, scowled to himself as he heard the distinctive voice of Admiral Harriman Nelson, his friend and boss, approaching from the control room. It wasn't Nelson that made him frown it was the person with Nelson. Crane unconsciously straightened in his chair, but did not turn to acknowledge the approaching men. They came by him, and Nelson dropped a hand on his shoulder.

"Lee. I knew you'd be here still working on those. We're going out to dinner. Would you care to join us?" Nelson asked amicably. Crane noticed that the other man had gone to the credenza, and without permission, was pouring himself a scotch. He also noted that the man chose a large tumbler and filled the glass almost to the brim with the expensive liquor. He pulled his eyes away from this small trespass and turned to meet Nelson's blue eyes. There was an understanding there, and a question that had nothing to do with the dinner invitation.

Crane shook his head. "I already have plans, sir. Thank you anyway. Perhaps Chip would like to go along." he suggested. That way there would be someone there representing the senior officers, and Morton didn't seem to have the same problem with their 'guest' as Crane did. He was usually up for dinner out, preferring it to his own cooking.

"I'll ask him when we go back by the admin building. Everything is ready to go in the morning?" Nelson didn't seem to be put out about his refusal, and Crane knew that Nelson was well aware that they were ready to sail in the morning. Evidently Nelson felt that Crane needed to make at least the appearance of having a polite conversation in the presence of their guest. As always Crane could not bear to let the admiral down, so he smiled up at the other man. It wasn't much of an effort, but he at least tried. The twinkle in Nelson's eyes said that he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

"Yes sir, all ready to go. We've finished the last of the loading and all crew are accounted for. We'll be prepared to leave with the tide in the morning as planned." He said, still ignoring the other man who was sipping his drink and watching the two officers. Crane noted that Nelson had not removed his hand from his shoulder. While he had become used to Nelson's shoulder pats and squeezes, he also knew that they tended to be fleeting, and not usually indulged in when in the presence of outsiders. Something was going on, but what?

"Good. Good Lee, I knew I could count on you." Nelson motioned to the other man with his free hand. "If you're done with your aperitif Greg, we'll go ahead and go. We'll stop in the admin building and see if Chip wants to join us for dinner." He started for the ladder in the control room after a last squeeze to the Crane's slim shoulder.

The other man, Greg Summers PhD, and just about every other letter of the alphabet, set his almost-full glass down on the table and started to follow Nelson. While he was walking aft, his eyes studied the slim dark haired man who sat at the table whose attention had returned to the papers in front of him as soon as Nelson had turned. It was if Summers wasn't even there. He was getting really tired of this. It had been like this almost from the first time that Nelson had introduced them. The man had seemed friendly enough at first, but then it was if he had suddenly ceased to exist in the eyes of the young captain. Summers had no idea why, but whatever the reason, he wasn't going to take this! No one ignored him.

He brushed by the captain, purposely trying to bump into his shoulder. To his surprise the man simply moved smoothly out of the way, his eyes never rising from the paperwork. He had simply swayed to the side. Summers scowled to himself but just kept going. After all he couldn't exactly make a scene about it. He joined Nelson at the base of the ladder, noticing that Nelson was eyeing him thoughtfully. Summers raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Nelson had seen the attempt by Summers to bump into Crane. He had watched with inner amusement as the young captain had simply moved out of the way as if he was leaning to one side. It was so Lee Crane. No fuss, but the point had been made clearly, and with complete politeness, after all who could be offended by someone avoiding being bumped into? He also saw the scowl that crossed the doctor's face, quickly covered up by the usual smile. Nelson had not had time to talk to Crane about why exactly he had taken such a quick and evidently deep dislike to the scientist, since they had both been making preparations to leave the next day. As he moved aside to allow Summers to go up the ladder first, Nelson made a mental note to come back later that night and talk to Crane. He didn't doubt for a moment that the captain would be aboard even though it wasn't necessary for him to be there until 0700 the next day. Nelson had come to realize over the years he had known Crane that the younger man had a keen sense of people, and if he had taken a dislike to Summers, there was probably a good reason, and he would like to know what it was. He had tried to show his support silently with his hand on the slim shoulder, and hoped that Lee had gotten the message. With a last glance at the still figure in the nose he climbed up the ladder.

Four hours later he was climbing down the same ladder, unaccompanied. Summers had returned to his hotel to finish packing his last items, and Morton had gone home to make a few phone calls to his family, though Nelson knew he would be on the boat later, another dedicated officer. He often wondered how he had gotten so lucky as to put together the crew he had. He stepped down to the deck and turned around to find himself almost toe to toe with Sharkey, the COB. He had known Francis Sharkey for years, having served with him on several different boats before signing him onto the Seaview, and had gotten used to the man's appearing in places suddenly, always ready to help.

"Good evening Sir." Sharkey said cheerfully. "How was your dinner?" Sharkey prided himself on there being little on the boat he DIDN'T know about. It was a sometimes annoying habit, but one that paid off in tight situations when things didn't have to be explained. Not that his senior officers didn't use it to entertain themselves on occasion. He had lost count of the times that Crane or Morton had just happened to drop some fascinating little tidbit about something the other was doing, or wanted done, to the ever eager Chief, only to have the man find out later that the officer in question had a very definite dislike for whatever it was, hence the liver and onions in the mess one night. Nelson had thought that the XO was going throw up right there in the chow line, but he had simply turned a very impressive shade of green and fled the mess hall. That had of course required a reprisal. Crane was still getting a few of THOSE kinds of magazines in the mail each month. How a man as experienced as Crane could blush like that was something of a puzzle. Nelson smiled at Sharkey.

"It was excellent Francis. Have you seen the captain?" he asked. Sharkey usually knew where almost any given officer was despite the time. He made special effort with the captain.

"He's in the missile room sir, looking over the doctor's DSV. We had some trouble with one of the tie downs and he wanted in inspect the jury-rig we came up with."

"Very well, carry on. I'll be down there as well." He headed aft toward the missile room. He had wanted to get a look at the DSV anyway, and this seemed like a good opportunity to look over the exterior of the Deep Sea exploration Vessel. He would not consider looking inside without permission from Summers, though he knew Crane had inspected the interior, with permission, when it was loaded to verify that no contraband or dangerous materials were being loaded. They had too many past experiences with scientists bringing things aboard that they were not supposed to. Crane was a stickler for security, and it paid off in the long run.

He entered the missile room to find several ratings standing around looking at something on the deck under the suspended DSV. The DSV was a 20-foot long, cigar shaped miniature submarine created for deep ocean exploration. It was one of the newest creations of an innovative company that Nelson had bought shares in several years previously. Their balance sheet said that they were coming along nicely but this would be the first opportunity he had to see an actual product. He moved further into the room, and could see what the ratings were looking at. A pair of khaki clad legs were poking out from under the DSV. The highly polished shoes were braced against the deck for leverage as their owner was using what appeared to be a large wrench on the tie down davit under the DSV. Nelson was amused to note that the probable reason that the captain of the boat was under the small vessel, instead of delegating the job to one of the ratings, was because none of the men would have fit. All were large brawny men, and the space was narrow. The slim captain had no such problem, and Nelson watched as Crane slid back out from under the DSV and rose smoothly to his feet.

As Crane came to his feet he realized his audience had increased by one. He smiled at Nelson and handed the wrench to Edwards who took it and went off with the rest of the men. The two top officers stood and looked at the small DSV with practiced eyes. Few people knew that Crane had a Masters degree in marine engineering, but Nelson was aware of it, and valued Crane's opinions on matters regarding design.

"What do you think Lee? Will it replace the standard DSV?" He asked.

Crane tilted his head to one side, as if considering. Then he sighed. "Have stock in the company do you?" he asked with a sudden grin.

Nelson frowned at him then laughed. "Yes as a matter of fact. Not a lot, but they seemed promising from the plans I saw."

Crane nodded, and turned his eyes back to the DSV in front of them. "I bet this wasn't one of the plans you saw." He said sweeping a hand at the vessel.

Nelson considered for a moment. "Now that you mention it, it wasn't. Why?"

Crane shook his head and walked around the DSV. "It's too….." he stopped, and Nelson could see that he was trying to find a way to express his thoughts. Finally something seemed to work for the younger man. "It's like if you took a masterpiece, say the Mona Lisa, and had the worlds best painter take it and paint a hat on her. Would that make the painting better?"

'No of course not, it would ruin it." Nelson said, not sure exactly where Crane was going, but willing to wait for it to come out.

"Even if the hat were appropriate to the period, and done in the correct colors and with the right brush stokes and everything? Even if it made her look more attractive"

'No. It would still be gilding the lily."

"THAT'S the term I was looking for. 'Gilding the lily'. It as if they took a perfect DSV, with the all the right stuff, and had some kind of contest to see who could put in the most useless things. The thing is stuffed to the hull. I'd be surprised if you could take more than five men in her for all her length. All she needs is some flames and a high gloss paint job and you could enter her in a contest for hotrods." He ended.

Nelson laughed. As he had not seen the inside of the craft he didn't have an opinion of his own, but he knew Crane, and valued his opinion. He was prepared to believe that Crane knew what he was talking about. Both men had a love of the simple, the functional, and both had come to realize that making things complicated just for the hell of it was useless, and sometimes dangerous. He clapped his captain on the back and started toward the hatchway. "I'll take your word for it. Come on. I want a drink, and I want to talk to you for a few minutes before you do your tour." He said referring to the standard walk through of the boat that Crane did every night he was aboard.

Crane followed him to his cabin, declining the offered whiskey and settling in the chair across from Nelson who sat at his desk.

"What did you want to talk about sir?" he asked curiously. He knew they had gone over everything for the upcoming cruise, he hoped that nothing had changed at the last minute.

"I was wondering, Lee, what exactly it is about our guest that you do not like."

Crane felt a blush start in his face, glad that he had a dark complexion to hide it. "If I've come across as rude Admiral I will of course apologize immediately…" he started, meaning every word. He might not like Summers, but he'd be damned if he would make the admiral look bad by his actions.

Nelson raised a hand. "No Lee you've been the soul of politeness, cold, but polite which isn't like you, at least not the cold part. Care to share why?" he said. He could see a faint blush on Crane's cheeks, and knew that the captain was embarrassed.

Crane studied his hands, folded in his lap, and Nelson could see that he was nervously turning the ring he wore on his left hand around his finger as he always did when troubled. He finally shook his head and looked back up a Nelson. "I don't really think I can. Call it clashing auras, call it opposite personalities, call it whatever you want. There's just something about the man that makes me feel like having him tossed off the boat. It really got to me after the party two nights ago, and it hasn't gotten better." He said referring to a party that Summers had invited Nelson, Crane, and Morton to at the hotel where he was staying. "In the course of two hours I happened to overhear him talking about base jumping, skydiving, extreme skiing, free diving, underwater spelunking, free climbing, and to top it off, big game archery trophy hunting. The man is an adrenaline junkie, a glutton for 'experiences'. All that just compounded the original feeling."

Nelson leaned back in his chair and studied his captain who met his eyes steadily. Nelson was pleased by the answer, even as undefined as it was. He knew Crane too well to think that the dislike he had for the scientist would in any way hamper his performance during the cruise. In fact since Crane was aware of the dislike, even if not of the reason, he was likely to go out of his way to make sure that the cruise was a much of a success as possible. Crane would never let his personal feelings get in the way of Institute or boat business, a true professional. "You do realize that you have also been described as an adrenaline junkie." He said, unable to resist teasing, knowing that in Crane's eyes any chances he took were part of his duty and responsibility to his boat, his crew, and his country.

Crane sat forward intently. "The chances I take are necessary. Nothing I do is simply for the charge of doing it. I may put myself in dangerous situations but I have a damn good reason for it, and it's the means to an end, not the end itself." He said seriously. Nelson smiled at him. Chip was right; getting a rise out of the young captain could be entertaining.

"You'll let me know if you feel you can't work with him? I can make sure he's taken care of without your having to deal with it," he said, knowing the answer to that question already, but feeling he needed to ask it anyway.

Crane shook his head. "It won't come to that Admiral. I'm not sure what it is, but it has no place on the cruise. After all, I've spent a career in the Navy dealing with a lot of people I didn't exactly like." He paused for a long moment then with a smile added "Present company excepted of course." Retaliation for teasing was often swift however.

Nelson scowled at him then smiled back. "Thanks. Don't you have a boat to tour?" he asked with mock grumpiness, waving a hand toward the door in dismissal.

Crane smiled and stood, stretching. He glanced at his watch. "As a matter of fact I do. I'm going to hit the sack when I'm done. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night Lee." Nelson waited until Crane was out of the cabin before lighting up a cigarette. Crane wouldn't say anything about it, but he had a certain look in his eyes when he caught Nelson smoking that the older man was learning to avoid. He had already started to consider trying to stop, but it was turning into a long process. But when he considered Jaime's dire warnings of a shortened life span, it was going to be worth it in the end. He wanted to be around for a long time.

Chapter 2

Chip Morton finished his entry into the log and looked up to see Lee Crane coming through the aft entrance to the Control Room. Crane had been in the circuitry room for the last hour overseeing a replacement of one of the redundant systems. During an exercise the previous evening it had surged, causing a rather unpleasant surprise for those men working in the laundry, who were the only ones using that circuit at the time. Every machine in the compartment had gone into overdrive, spewing forth a large amount of suds and in one case chewing up the admiral's uniform. Having determined the reason that the circuit breakers had not stopped the surge, Sharkey had sought permission to get the panel replaced this morning. Crane had of course agreed and then had decided to watch the installation. That had led to the other panels being inspected to be sure that a similar problem would not result in the future. Evidently everything had come out satisfactory. Morton hung up the clipboard and leaned against the chart table with his arms crossed, watching Crane work his way forward stopping at each station for a word with the duty person.

As he came up to the chart table Morton grinned at him. "Good timing Lee. The admiral and Dr Summers just left the nose for lunch in the mess. How did you know?" Morton was finding Crane's avoidance of their guest highly amusing. He had done everything in his power to throw the two together, but so far Crane's avoidance tactics had won out.

Crane smiled back at him "That's for me to know and you to wonder about." He replied, taking up the nearest clipboard. "We'll be over the drop site in an hour. Have you alerted the missile room?" he asked absently, reading the report.

"Yes, and I sent Kowalski to route the pilot and engineer out of their bunks. I don't know about those guys Lee. If that guy is an experienced DSV pilot I think it must have been at Disneyland or something."

Crane grinned at Morton. "He had the right credentials. The admiral had him checked out. He doesn't want anything to happen to Summers. Bad publicity to loose a big time media darling." He said, barely keeping the sarcasm out of his tone.

Morton grinned. "I haven't seen you this bad about someone since Pritkin, back at the Academy. At least with him you could avoid him for the most part. It was a big campus."

Crane scowled at being reminded of the man he hoped never to see again. The Navy was a large organization, and Pritkin had gone into surface vessels, so their paths had only crossed once in all the years since they graduated. Pritkin was still a lieutenant, and had made several sneering comments about certain people using connections to make rank, though carefully voicing them as a private aside to a friend at the party they had both attended. Nelson, who to Pritkin's chagrin, was standing about two feet behind him had overheard and understood the implication that was being made. He had not struck back immediately, but Crane suspected that he would not really appreciate his next posting. Reykjavik, Iceland could be so cold this time of the year. Crane grinned at the thought. "At least with Pritkin I knew why I didn't like him from the start." He said, remembering the high-handed, snobbish, chauvinistic, prejudiced, little 'Pricktin' as he had immediately been renamed.

Morton nodded, also remembering the man. "Yeah, and he hasn't improved any over the years. You wanna go have some lunch?" he asked tongue in cheek, knowing that there was no way Crane would be going to the wardroom anytime soon.

"No. I think I'll pass." He looked around the control room. "Shouldn't Kowalski be back by now? Wasn't he on Sonar this watch?"

Morton glanced at the chronometer; it HAD been over 20 minutes since Kowalski had left. He reached for a mike and double clicked it to clear the channel. "Kowalski, report to the Control Room." He ordered.

There was a short delay, then the intercom click on "Mr. Morton, could you and the Skipper please come to the guest quarters?" there was anger in Kowalski's tone, and the two officers exchanged glances.

"We'll be right there." Morton replied and then followed Crane toward the guest quarters. They arrived to find Kowalski pacing the corridor in front of one of the guest staterooms. Summers had one to himself, his two assistants were sharing one, and the two DSV crewmembers were in the third. It was that one in front of which Kowalski circled. "What's going on Ski?" Morton questioned as they came up with the senior rating.

Kowalski jerked his head in the direction of the door. "I came down to get those guys like you said, Mr. Morton. When they didn't answer I checked with the missile room to see if they were already there and with the mess hall too. No one had seen them so I knocked again then entered." He looked warily between the two officers, knowing that he really should have summoned Sharkey or one of the other chiefs, or even an officer, before taking such a step. Usually the top officers of this boat encouraged initiative in the ratings, and he hoped this was one of those times.

Crane nodded at him to go ahead, no change of expression indicating that he had seen anything wrong with Kowalski's actions. The rating took a deep breath, the anger coming up in him again. 'I think you better see this for yourselves, sirs." He said, indicating the stateroom. The officers once again exchanged glances, relying on the wordless communications skills that they had developed over the years. Crane nodded, and stepped to the door. He was the captain of the boat, and could enter any compartment he saw fit. If an experienced seaman like Kowalski was upset, it warranted his intrusion into the privacy of their guests.

As soon as he entered the room he smelled it. He reached to turn on the light, and cast his glance around the room. The pilot of the DSV was sprawled over one bunk clad only in his underwear, with an empty bottle of scotch still clutched in his unconscious hand. The engineer was on the floor, in the middle of the room, curled around another bottle, snoring like a buzz saw. The room stank of booze and cigarette smoke, as well as less appealing odors. Crane grimaced and jerked his head toward the corridor. They stepped out, and Kowalski pulled the door closed.

Crane rubbed his forehead. He had just KNOWN this whole thing was going to be a problem. He looked at Morton. "Get Jamieson down here to look them over. Have someone search the cabin and find out if they have any more booze stashed away. Make a note of any that's found and lock it up. If the doc wants them moved to sickbay, fine, otherwise put them in cabin D and have this one cleaned up. In any event have the master at arms post a guard. They are not to leave the cabin until we dock." He stopped, his eyes studying the closed door. He had no sympathy for men who couldn't control their alcohol intake. There were places for drinking and on a submarine while you are supposed to be doing a job wasn't one of them. He took in a deep breath. "I'll…go tell the admiral what's happened. This is going to delay the deployment at least." He started down the corridor toward the wardroom, leaving Morton to start cleaning up the mess.

Nelson and Summers were just getting ready to leave the wardroom, having finished their lunch. Nelson looked toward the door as Crane entered, and he was surprised that Lee had come down, knowing that he had been avoiding their guest like the plague. Then he spotted the grim look on the young captain's face. He hadn't come down for lunch. Nelson stepped over to him.

"What is it Lee?" he asked quietly.

Crane looked quickly around the wardroom, knowing that while no one was staring, every ear was tuned in. Submarines were small communities, and like any community the rumor mill was a living, breathing thing. "I need to speak with you and Dr. Summers in private." He said.

Nelson raised an eyebrow, but turned to gather Summers. "Doctor, the captain would like to go over some last minute details with us. Could you come along to my cabin?"

Summers frowned, but came along. The three men went along to Nelson's cabin, unspeaking. Once there, Nelson motioned the two men to the chairs in front of his desk then sat behind it. "Well Lee, what's going on?" he asked. Both he and Summers looked at the younger man.

"Mr. Morton sent Kowalski down to alert the pilot and engineer of the DSV that we are within an hour of reaching the drop area. He tried knocking and when he got no answer he tried to find out if they were anywhere else on the boat. When no one had seen them he entered the cabin. When he saw what was inside he called Mr. Morton and myself down. The pilot and engineer were in the room, passed out drunk. Two empty bottles of scotch were found. I have doctor Jamieson taking a look at them, and will have them placed under guard until we get to the nearest port. Needless to say the deployment will have to be cancelled until another pilot and engineer can be found." Crane related the problem.

Summers threw back his head and laughed, in direct contrast to Nelson who was frowning, and Crane who remained impassive in the face of the jocular response, his eyes on Nelson. Summers stopped, and looked at the grim faces of the two officers. "Oh lighten up." He said, smiling. "It's not like they haven't done it before. They work hard and they play hard. They'll sober up and we'll get on with it. Just a little delay is all. Surely we can hang around here for awhile."

"Not on my boat they won't." Crane said, his eyes not leaving Nelson.

Nelson shot him a quick glance, frowning at him to let him know he wasn't happy about the captain's usurpation of his prerogative as owner. But that was an issue for a private discussion. Nelson didn't approve of the delivery, but he did approve of the thought behind it. "Captain Crane is correct Doctor. Those men will not be operating off this vessel, sober or not." He said.

"What! So they're drunk now. Big deal. They overindulged a little. Once they sober up they're fine. You saw the licenses, Wharton has all the right training and experience, and so does Saunders. What's it to you anyways? It's my DSV they'll be operating." Summers protested. Crane, obviously having read the earlier look sat back in his chair. Evidently he was leaving it all to Nelson. He still hadn't looked at Summers.

"It may be your DSV, but it's being deployed by my boat, and in the event that your pilot or engineer mess up, it'll be the Seaview and her crew that might have to put itself in danger to get you out of it." Nelson reminded him.

"Oh, look. I gotta get this done now. The current is going to be shifting in the next sixty days. Once that happens the entire shelf will be inundated with debris from the accretion fan to the south. I'll have to wait until next year before another opportunity even possibly will present itself. Even then there's no assurance that the shelf will be exposed to this degree." He said, speaking of the shelf of rock in the trench they were approaching. Remote control vehicles had been used to take samples and send back pictures, and the resulting data had spurred this expedition. Nelson didn't know for sure where the funding was coming from, but he knew it was a lot of money, and that Summers, a world renown oceanographer with a specialty in mineralogy, had a lot riding on this. He had never failed to complete a project before, and in the unforgiving research funding arena that meant a lot. Summers continued speaking. "Nelson, I don't have to tell you the importance of a find on the scale that the data indicates. This could be the richest vein of palladinium ever found. It's not just good for me you know, we're inside the Teralane Island territorial limits. They can sell the mining rights to this and make a fortune! Don't tell me that you haven't heard about the poverty level there. Their government would even actually use it for the good of the people; they haven't had enough money to get corrupt politicians in place. There's got to be something we can do."

Nelson leaned back in his chair and thought about it. Summers was right. The amount of money such a find could mean to the poor island country was staggering. The government seemed to be very dedicated to making things better for the people, and would use the funds wisely. Summers was also correct in his assumption regarding the current shift and the possibility that the possible vein would become completely lost, possibly permanently out of reach due to the expense of excavating the sediments that would be deposited there before it could be verified. No mining concern would work the area without the possibility of a high yield, and they would not spend excessive amounts of money to find out what was there when the mineral rights were not up for grabs, thus cutting into their profits severely. On the other hand there was no way that he would allow the two men Lee had described to take the vessel out. So, what to do? The only possibility seemed to be replacing the men. That would be a problem.

The crew of the Seaview boasted many well trained and disciplined personnel. All but a few were cross-trained in a variety of skills. However piloting a DSV required a level of skill that few men possessed. There was of course one man on the boat that was qualified, Nelson looked at Crane. The captain simply stared back at him. Nelson sighed. This was not going to be an easy sale. He looked at Summers. "The captain and I will discuss it Doctor. I must make it clear to you however that under no circumstances will those two men be allowed to operate anything on or near this vessel. If another solution cannot be found we will return to Santa Barbara as soon as possible. If you will excuse us?"

Summers, who obviously felt he had more to say, was summarily shown out by Nelson who shut the door behind him with another sigh. He turned to find Crane still seated, not looking toward the door. He suppressed a smile, oh yes, definitely not an easy sale there. He moved back to his desk and sat down. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a bottle of the family tipple. After offering some to the younger man he poured himself a small dram, and leaned back in his chair. He looked with amused eyes at his captain, and smiled. "Can you honestly say you wouldn't volunteer to pilot the DSV if it was anyone but Summers?" he finally fired the first round in what he suspected would be a pitched battle. He had decided to go for the throat early, knowing that Lee's sense of fairness would be his Achilles heel in this matter.

Crane frowned, and finally relaxed in the chair. "I can't say I would or wouldn't. It would depend on the circumstances. Just because I'm here doesn't mean I'm free to take off and do something off the boat. I have responsibilities here."

Nelson nodded. "And do you feel that Chip and I would be unable to take care of any eventuality while you are off the boat, for the what, 5 or 6 hours that would be required for the survey?"

Crane gave him a disgusted look and didn't dignify the question with an answer. Instead he decided to go on the attack himself. He was still reeling from the first jab from Nelson, and he was determined not to make it an easy fight, though he saw by the gleam in the blue eyes that Nelson was prepared to fight dirty. "Do you really want me trapped in a small vessel with the man for 6 hours? Your reputation in the scientific community might not survive the trip." He said.

"As if I still have one." Nelson said, unmoved by the argument. He knew Crane would be professional under whatever circumstances he found himself.

"Not my fault you piss off the scientific crowd by the bucketfuls. We have to keep those ones you haven't chased off happy, or we'll never make payroll. Also, who would you send for engineer?" Ah ha, got you there Crane thought. There was no one on board who had dealt with the DSV systems.

"Oh, I had someone in mind. He's dealt with a lot of electrical and computerized machines. I'm sure with a short period of familiarization he would do just fine."

"Patterson?" Crane suggested.

"No, actually I was speaking of myself." Nelson said, smiling a little.

"What!" Crane said, sitting up in his chair once again. "You can't go."

"And why not pray tell?"

"You…" Crane had to think fast. The admiral was certainly qualified since one of his many degrees was in electrical engineering. "You just said that you would be here with Chip. Now you are suggesting that two of the senior officers be off the boat at the same time?" Maybe that would fly.

"Do you have a problem with Chip being in command without one of us nearby? He's been there before you know, and in a lot more serious circumstances." Nelson volleyed it back.

Crane sensed he was not doing well on this line of argument. He couldn't say he didn't have confidence in Chip, because he did. He waved off that statement as being undeserving an answer. He saw the spark in Nelson's eyes register the win on that point. He needed something else. Might as well try straight out honesty. "I don't want to do it sir. I have a bad feeling about Summers and the whole thing. I don't believe that he's doing this for the good of the Teralane islanders. I think he's doing it for himself, and whoever is paying his bills. We never did find out who that was exactly, just a series of mysterious grants from various corporations. The whole thing is fishy if you ask me."

"Lee," Nelson said practically, "We don't know where all the funding comes from for most of our guests. Yes, it would be nice to know, but let's be reasonable. As long as our costs are paid we really can't expect someone to divulge that information much beyond what we do already. Paranoia is not a good way to run a business, and you have to remember that Seaview does need the business to 'make payroll' as you say. Now, I am not minimizing your 'feelings', Lord knows they've saved us before, but I really feel that you may be allowing your dislike for Summers to color your judgment on this matter."

Crane sighed. Maybe Nelson was right. He had seldom met someone like Summers, someone that rubbed him the wrong way so much. He looked at Nelson. He owed it to Nelson to make an effort, despite his personal feelings. He couldn't allow Nelson's reputation to be impacted due to his own hang-ups. He sighed again and nodded his acquiescence. "You win. How long do you think you'll need for familiarization?"

"I'll talk to Summers and then go down now. I'm not expecting any problems with anything."

"I warned you. It's stuffed to the gills with everything you can think of. Damn thing probably has a cigar lighter in the dash." Crane groused.

Nelson smiled, knowing that Crane was just blowing off his frustrations at having to do something for someone he couldn't like. "I think I should be able to handle that too. Are you going to come down yourself?" he asked and rose to his feet

Crane also stood, nodding his head. "Yes. I'll do a quick run through on the propulsion and steering systems. I saw the sonar and location system before and it was one I am familiar with so that shouldn't be a problem. For now I better go break the news to Chip." The two men separated in the corridor, one heading to the guest quarters and the other to the control room.

Chapter 3-

Chip watched amused as Crane checked over the launching apparatus that had been set up in the missile room. The opening used for the diving bell had been modified several months earlier to a larger oval. The DSV would slide out the hole at a steep angle aided by the apparatus. Launching at depth from the Seaview would allow the DSV to reach the survey area in almost a third of the time that a surface launched DSV would require. When they were finished the process would be reversed and the long trip to the surface would be avoided. Protestations that the apparatus had been approved by the submarines designer, and installed by their own technicians would have been fruitless so Chip held his peace while Crane continued. The captain had changed from his khakis to jeans and a t-shirt that had seen better days with the words 'Go Navy' across the back in gold lettering. Another change from the regular DSV, they tended to be somewhat cold. Crane had informed him that this thing had a heater on it that would cure jerky if you turned it up past halfway.

Chip knew that Crane wasn't against the improvements to the DSV setup per se; it was just more of a case of distaste at the excessively conspicuous consumption. Chip himself had curled a lip at the huge SUV that the doctor had arrived at the Institute in. The thing must have gotten the gas mileage of a tank, and the doctor had evidently rented it to move himself and his luggage from the airport to the hotel to the Institute. Since his luggage was only several suitcases, it seemed a bit of a stretch. The Institute was about saving the environment, mostly the marine environment, and a disregard for the environmental impact of large, unnecessary, vehicles seemed to be thumbing one's nose at the concept.

Chip straightened from where he was leaning against the bulkhead as Crane finished his inspection. He sauntered over to stand by his friend. "Well, you think it'll hold up to a launch?" he asked jokingly. Crane grinned at him.

"Wouldn't want to scratch the paint on the way out. They might make me pay for the new paint job, and that would be a stretch on a captain's pay."

Chip grinned back and ran a hand over the glossy paint of the DSV. "Yeah. I wish I could have this good a paint job on my car. Maybe the girls would appreciate it then."

"Nobody is ever going to appreciate that heap of bolts you call a car."

"It's a classic." Chip reminded him.

"So is an Edsel supposedly, but you don't see everyone driving around in one." Crane fired back, wiping his hands on a rag that one of the ratings handed him. He pretended not to hear the snicker from the retreating crewman. Morton however glared after the retreating form.

"None of you appreciate quality." He snorted. He looked at the DSV and then back at Crane. "I'm surprised Summers agreed to this. You two haven't exactly hit it off during the cruise. I would have thought he would rather wait."

Crane frowned, his golden eyes puzzled as they studied the DSV. "It funny, but I thought the same thing. I was really hoping he would say no, but it turns out he was okay with me. What he objected to was the admiral coming along."

Chip frowned also. "Why would he object to the admiral, he's more than qualified for the electronics, and he sure can't be beat for the scientific knowledge? Think he was afraid the admiral would scoop him on the find?" he asked, knowing the admiral would never do such a thing.

Crane shrugged. "I don't know. The admiral just said the man tried to talk him out of going, almost to the point of calling it all off, but when he saw the admiral wasn't going to change his mind on using the engineer he hired, he agreed. Not in very good grace." Crane looked around, assuring that there were no crewmen in hearing range. He would not say anything about a guest on board in front of the men. It was bad enough that he couldn't bring himself to be more than coldly polite to the man. He certainly didn't want the men treating Summers any differently because of him. "The man's an asshole, Chip, nothing he does surprises me."

Chip grinned at him again and nudged him with an elbow. "We still shooting for 1100 hours for the launch?"

Crane nodded. "Yes. I'll be down here warming up the systems around 1030. Have Sharkey route Summers and his two men out around then. I want to go on time and get it over with. The admiral says five to six hours for the survey. I figure 30 minutes to the site and about the same back. You'll keep track of us via sonar and move into position for the pickup when we call."

Chip nodded. He jerked a head toward the doorway. "Still time for breakfast. I hear Cookie is making waffles this morning. He always heats up that cranberry syrup you like. Makes enough for two most of the time even." Chip said.

"Gee, I guess I know where I stand. If Cookie didn't like me you'd eat alone." The two officers went out of the missile room, leaving the crew to share smiles as they could hear the continued jokes as the senior officers headed down the corridor. Happy officers made for happy men.

Two hours later Crane was inside the DSV, which was now in its launch position, warming up the small reactor that powered the vehicle. It was overkill for a machine this size to have a reactor in his opinion, but then it wasn't his machine. He would have much rather been at the controls of the flying submarine, or even the mini-sub, but this would be well below their depth rating. He ran through the checklist he had found in one of the storage compartments. He had also found a pint of scotch, which he had given to the chief to lock up with the other stuff they had confiscated previously. This was getting ridiculous. He was beginning to feel like a revenuer chasing bootleggers. The bottle had been inside of a book in the storage compartment. Crane's curiosity about the book's subject had led him to open it and find the cutout hole in the middle with the bottle. He had been forced to laugh when he realized the book was supposed to be a biography of Elliot Ness who had made himself famous fighting bootleggers in the twenties. Irony!

He continued through the checklist, noting the readings on the various dials and readouts. He looked up as his peripheral vision picked up movement on the other side of the thick glass of the pilot's window. He watched as Nelson, followed by Summers and his two assistants, entered the missile room. Summers was talking, waving his arms and gesturing at one of the research assistants. Nelson was shaking his head. Another attempt to keep Nelson off the DSV Crane assumed. He would really like to know exactly what the problem was with that. It didn't make any sense. It wasn't as if Nelson was going to grab the credit or the glory for the find, the whole scientific community knew that. There was something else happening here, and Crane was going to find out what it was. He lost sight of the four men as they approached the DSV. He finished with his checklist and reached for the radio send button.

"This is DSV Niobe calling Seaview. Radio check." He said into his throat mike.

"Niobe, this is Seaview. You are coming in loud and clear." Came the reply from Sparks.

"Thank you Seaview, Niobe out."

He and the DSV were ready; it was now a matter of waiting for the others to get on board. He got up and walked into the main module. The two research assistants were already there, one sitting at the engineering station panel, and the other at the recording panel toward the front, Crane assumed they were testing out the recording equipment to make sure it was working properly, couldn't fault them for that. As Crane came in he thought he heard a small thunk, but he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary so he dismissed it. As he moved back Nelson and then Summers entered through the hatch. Crane backed up into the door to the pilot module as the inside of the DSV became very crowded. He shook his head. If they had cut back by about half of the gadgets, they could have had a more comfortable and effective machine.

"Are we ready to go Captain?" Nelson asked. Crane noted he looked a little put out, as did Summers. He suspected the discussion about Nelson going had not gone over well with the admiral. He wasn't used to having his decisions questions, at least not by paying guests on his boat who were there by sufferance, now by a certain captain that was another matter altogether.

"Yes, sir. As soon as we're all strapped in we can launch." He replied

Nelson raised an eyebrow at Summers, who frowned at the older man for a moment then nodded. "All right, have it your way." He looked at his assistants. "Let's get strapped in." The four men each took a seat, Nelson in the back where the main electronics board was. He would be in charge of making sure that all the various research instruments were working and that the manipulative arms and drills were functioning as needed. He would also monitor the reactor. Many of the functions could also be accessed through the pilot's area, but those redundant systems wouldn't be used today.

Crane returned to the pilot's seat and strapped in. Once he was ready he looked out the port and gave a thumbs up to Sharkey who was at the launching controls. Crane reached for the mike again. "Seaview this is Niobe. We are ready to launch." As he spoke he was putting the engines into standby mode so that as soon as they were in the water and clear of Seaview he would have maneuvering power. He then turned on the outside lights.

"Roger that Niobe. Prepare to launch." The reply came. Then the voice switched to Sharkey counting down. "In five, four, three, two, one, launch"

The DSV suddenly moved forward, knifing cleanly into the water. As soon as Crane felt the buoyancy of the vessel indicate she was free he gave a visual check out the ports to make sure they were clear. He took the systems off standby and dove the DSV toward the small trench a thousand feet below, where the possible mineral vein was located. He keyed the mike again.

"Seaview this is Niobe. All systems are go and we are diving. Radio check in thirty minutes."

"Roger that Niobe. Good hunting. Seaview out."

Crane rechecked all the systems as they moved down at a steep angle, rapidly leaving the glow of the Seaview's hull lights behind. Only their own small lights cut the utter darkness outside. Small plankton and krill could be seen moving in the water, and Crane saw a few fish on the edges of the light. One of the fish, a particularly ugly and tooth endowed one he was sure he recognized from his last trip in a DSV. Is that you Toothy? He silently asked the fish facetiously. The deep-sea fish he had seen previously was many thousand of miles to the north, and even deeper in a trench off of Russia. That fish had been very curious about the light and the DSV he had been piloting then, and had stuck around for quiet some time. These fish didn't seem as interested. Oh well, tough crowd. He thought.

Nelson's estimate was pretty accurate as twenty-five minutes later Crane brought the DSV to a halt at the first point on the survey route. He leveled the vessel out and looked over his shoulder. Looking down the length of the DSV he could see everyone in a line all the way back to Nelson. "We're at the first spot on your maps. Where do you need to be for samples?" he asked Summers who was in the first chair behind him.

Summers unsnapped his harness and leaned forward to turn on the video monitor that would give him a view of the outside. He flipped a few switches and moved the camera around. He finally flipped another switch and red laser mark showed up on the wall of the trench. Crane barely kept himself from rolling his eyes, a laser pointer; they had put in a laser target spot, talk about too many gadgets. He saw Nelson smiling at him from the back, and gave him what he hoped was a speaking look. He pulled his attention back to Summers who was talking. "We need to start right there. The drill has a ten-foot optimum reach. Can you get us closer than five feet, I'd like to get a good core sample here?"

Crane looked at several of his indicators. There was very little current here, and he would have no problem holding the small vessel study. He nodded and began maneuvering closer to the wall and the laser spot.

Several hours later they were almost halfway through the survey. Crane, who had little to do once he had maneuvered the DSV into place other than monitor the automatic pilot, which kept the vessel on station, had been watching the other men. Nelson was of course the complete professional. He performed his duties and discussed findings with Summers as time permitted. Everyone seemed to be pleased with the results so far, and they were now entering the area where the main part of the vein was supposed to be. What Crane had noticed was that Summers and his men seemed to be getting uneasy the farther along they went. It wasn't anything obvious. Crane doubted that most people would have noticed, but then they didn't have his training. He had extensive training in reading body language and subtle hints in expression. They were nervous, he just didn't know why. Perhaps they just had a lot invested in this, and were nervous about it being the big deal that Summers had promoted it to be.

Crane turned his attention to bringing the DSV around a tight turn in the trench. He was sure they could make it, but he would have to pay close attention to avoid scraping her on the trench side. Not that Crane really cared about the paint job, but he didn't want to give Summers the satisfaction. They couldn't go up and around as this part of the trench was overhung with rock for the next stretch, and they would not be able to get back down to take samples. Summers had been everything condescending to both Nelson and Crane. Treating them as if they were complete rookies at this. Crane had not found any reason to reverse his previous opinion of the man or his DSV. He had found the DSV woefully underpowered for the power plant it had. The power system was set up so that the gadgets drained off so much energy that it left the propulsion systems no better than standard DSV's. The environmental systems didn't seem to be all that much improved either as far as he could tell for all that it was at least warm. What a waste of resources.

There was a sudden commotion from the rear of the vessel. He heard a yell, he instantly identified it as coming from Nelson, and then the power systems failed. He could smell ozone in the air. He instantly slapped at the emergency back up switches. The faint red tinted lights that signaled the emergency status came on, lighting the vessel, Crane instantly looked to the back. It was murky, and he realized there was a cloud of smoke near the rear. He couldn't see Nelson! He was out of his seat instantly heading toward the back. He pushed past the two assistants who were both staring at the back, and physically dragged Summers back out of the way to get to the engineering board. He ignored Summers protests as he bent over the still figure slumped over the board. The smell of ozone was strong back here, and he knew that there had been some kind of electrical discharge.

He felt for a pulse, but found none. With a curse he dragged Nelson out of the Chair laying him on the deck, forcing the other men to move back out of his way. He instantly determined that Nelson was not breathing and a second check showed there was still no pulse. He instantly started CPR. He was on his third compression cycle when he saw Nelson's head move. He stopped compressions and felt for a pulse. It was there! He felt the broad chest rise under his hand that rested there. He crouched there, his head hanging for a moment, and then looked up at Summers who was hovering over them both.

In doing so he surprised a look on Summers' face that he could only describe as fascinated. It was as if the man had actually enjoyed the life and death drama that had just played out. Evidently he could get an adrenaline rush from watching as well as participating. Crane kept his temper in check only with great effort. He kept a hand on Nelson's chest, as if he could assure that the heart would keep beating and the lungs breathing as long as he was in contact. "Get me a blanket, now!" He snapped at whoever would do the job. One of the assistants dragged a blanket out of the small emergency kit under one of the seats, and handed it back. Crane spread it over Nelson. He dragged a sweater that hung from the back of one of the chairs and ignoring the protest that came from one of the men, folded it to form a pillow. He felt the pulse again. It seemed to be steady and starting to pick up speed. He knew that a large electrical shock could interrupt the heartbeat even after the patient was revived, so it needed to be monitored. The problem was that he needed to get them back to Seaview as soon as possible, and he couldn't do both.

He wasn't comfortable leaving Nelson in the care of any of these men. He looked up to find Summers watching him closely. "Bad luck!" The scientist said almost cheerfully. "Guess we had some kind of short. We'll have to abort the survey and get back to the Seaview at once I guess. Good thing you could get him going again. Would have hated to have anything happen to him on the Niobe. Makes for a bad first voyage having someone die on board."

Crane stood up abruptly, ending up face to face with Summers. They were almost the same height, and their eyes were almost on the same level. Crane saw the near amusement drop from Summers face as their eyes met. He felt some satisfaction at that. "He's not going to die. One of you needs to sit with him, monitor his pulse. If he stops breathing again, or if his heart stops you let me know immediately." Crane growled. He broke eye contact with Summers and moved back to the board.

He could see scorch marks along one panel edge. He looked around and found a small tool kit in the storage bin under the seat. Using a screwdriver he lifted the panel. It didn't take him long to find the wire that had caused the short, and that had sent a charge of electricity through Nelson. He looked closely at it; he could not see any wear on the casing. He found where the wire was supposed to be connected, and could find no problem there either. How had the wire come loose? They hadn't been making any rough moves, not since they had launched. If it had come loose then, why had it taken so long for it to manifest itself? He reattached the wire and dropped the panel back into place. He absently noted the thunk as the panel dropped back into place, signaling it was locked down. He was looking at the panel. Trying to determine what system the wire went to. It was the second drill arm.

As he had been negotiating the bend of the trench he had been absently listening to the talk behind him. He mentally played the conversation back in his mind, a skill that he had developed over the years in a business where it wasn't always possible to record conversations or write things down. He recalled that Summers had asked Nelson to begin deploying the second drill arm, as they would want to use both drills now that they were approaching the main part of the vein. Nelson had no doubt complied, reaching for the heretofore-unused panel. And when he touched it…..

Crane was brought back to the present when he felt a presence at his side. He looked up from the seat to find Summers hovering over him. "Find the problem?" the other man asked.

"Loose wire." Crane said. 'It must have jogged loose when we launched. When the Admiral reached for this panel he caught the current." No need to show the other man that he was suspicious. After all, what did he have but suspicion? The wire COULD have come loose at launch, and by some strange quirk of fate hadn't moved into position until just before the admiral touched that section of the panel. Maybe Nelson was right and he was too paranoid. Unfortunately he had seldom found himself being more so than he needed to be given how his life went.

He rose, forcing Summers to step back. He knelt again at Nelson's side as one of the assistants moved back. He felt the steady pulse, and watched the chest rise and fall steadily. He placed a hand on the chest for a moment, wishing that the blue eyes would open. Nelson was not a young man, and this kind of literal shock to the system could be deadly even in a young man. Crane got up and scooted around the assistant, who knelt back at Nelson's side. He pushed past the second assistant and Summers and headed back to the pilot's area. Summers followed closely behind.

"Are we just going up now, right back to the sub?" he asked as Crane sat down.

Crane started flipping the circuit breakers that would restore the main power. He shook his head. "No. We can't go up here. The trench narrows above us. Also the Seaview is further on to the north of us by now we'd have to go against the currents to reach them. It would take longer up there. We'll move down the trench and then come up near Seaview. I'll contact them by radio when it's back up." As he spoke he continued working through the sequence to restart the systems. He would have to do it one at a time, environmental first, then propulsion, navigation, and then communications. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Summers frowning. He turned to look at the man. 'What?" he asked.

"I think we should just go up as soon as possible. I mean your boat can come back to get us, right? We just go up and hang around till they get there."

Crane shook his head, and flipped another switch. The regular lights flickered once then came on, they didn't seem as bright as before, but that was okay. He started on the propulsion system. "We can't go up for another half mile according to the charts. Once I get propulsion online I can cover that in less than ten minutes. By that time I'll have the radio on line and I can contact the boat and have them standing by. It'll save time. Now if you don't mind, I think I should concentrate on this right now." Crane cast a glance back down the vessel at Nelson, seeing the assistant with a hand to the pulse point. Summers snorted and retreated to speak in low tones to the two assistants.

Crane continued to work, finally getting the propulsion system on line, then the sonar and loran that gave him his position and worked as his eyes in the darkness of the abyss. He instantly started them moving ahead. Once they were moving down the trench, he started on the next systems, the communications. He noted with some puzzlement that the exterior cameras and the video recording system were on the same circuit as the radio. He shrugged, and kept working, keeping an eye on their course as he did so. He had succeeded in getting the system working and was getting ready to call Seaview when he saw something.

They had been moving down the trench; supposedly following along where the vein was, and Crane had not really been paying much attention to the trench walls other than to avoid them. But now he noted a strange glow in addition to the light from the DSV. It wasn't something IN the rock. It was ON the rock. It was like the rock was carpeted in some places by a shaggy growth that caught the light and reflected it back like a bunch of small mirrors as it moved in the slight current here in the trench. He had never seen anything like it. He wished that Nelson could see it. He was almost tempted to ask Summers what it was, but he rejected that idea. He was getting ready to place his call when he remembered that the video recorders where active. He had the controls there on his backup board so he focused the nose camera on the strange growth. He recorded a large area of the stuff, trying to make sure he got a lot of angles and lots of different lighting. He noticed as he switched to the rear camera that the growth behind them seemed to be glowing. Some kind of bioluminescence he assumed. Then he smiled as he realized that he had been hanging out with Nelson too much, since he knew the term for light generated by a living creature. Nelson would know what it was; how he wished he could call on him now. He finally turned off the camera and reached for the radio as he caught sight of Summers heading forward. He blanked out the screen feed from the cameras, but kept the tape rolling.

"Niobe to Seaview, come in Seaview. We have an emergency."

"This is Seaview. What is the nature of your emergency?"

"The admiral has received a serious electrical shock. I had to perform CPR and he revived but has not regained consciousness. His pulse is steady and a little slow. He's breathing well, and his color is coming back. We have environmental, propulsion, navigation and communications systems back on line. We are almost clear of the narrow area of the trench and will be able to move up to your depth. Coordinates as follows…" he gave the coordinates he was aiming for, the map he had on the navigation system saying that would be the first opportunity to rise out of the narrow trench.

"Understood, Niobe. We will have the retrieval system ready for you and the doctor standing by. We estimate being at your coordinates in five minutes. We'll have the light on for you." Chip's voice came back. Crane smiled a little, reassured somehow by the sound of his friend's concerned voice.

Crane signed off and continued guiding the small vessel trough the trench. He noticed several other patches of the luminescent 'stuff'. He wasn't sure if it was a type of seaweed or some kind of animal like coral. He just knew it wasn't something he had seen previously in half a lifetime of traveling the depths of the oceans. Something was telling him that he had to seem to be oblivious to it though. He glanced back again, to check on Nelson, who in the regular lighting was looking better. Crane could see his chest rising and falling from the pilot's chair, and also he could see what the other men were up to. The one assistant still sat by Nelson; leaning against a consol. Summers and the second assistant were back in their chairs having an intense but quiet discussion. Assured that no one was watching him at the current time he reached over and brought up the display on his screen again. He had not reinstated the controls to the rear consoles yet, and no one had protested. They could not tell what he was doing. The problem would be getting the tape from the camera feed. He had an idea about that, and with a little maneuvering should be able to take care of it when they disembarked on Seaview.

He couldn't have said why he was doing this in secret. He hoped that he wasn't simply being petty, and not mentioning it out of spite, not wanting to share what could be an interesting scientific find with Summers. But he didn't think so. He just had a feeling that the 'stuff' was important, that it meant something. He had had intuitive leaps before, and they had proven out. He had learned to trust them over the years.

The navigation computer started flashing at him. They had reached the coordinates that he had given Chip. They just needed to rise up to meet the larger vessel. He set the ballast tanks to begin the automatic climb, and got out of his chair going back to crouch near Nelson. "We're going up now. You all will want to buckle in so that we're ready to be picked up as soon as we reach depth." He said, placing a hand on Nelson's forehead. His skin was warm, and his color was back to normal. He seemed to be breathing easily and his pulse when he felt for it was regular. It was if he was just in a deep sleep, the effects of the near fatal electrocution no doubt. He looked around and found two more blankets in a storage bin. He rolled them up and wedged them on either side of Nelson. He really didn't want to move the older man into a seat, preferring to keep him still until Jamieson could examine him. He was just rising to his feet when he caught sight of what looked like a hypodermic lying on the floor just under the edge of one of the consoles.

He continued to stand with only the slightest of pauses as if he hadn't seen anything, his mind whirling. Why would there be a hypodermic on the floor? He had not opened the first aid kit, which was the only place that there should have been one, and he wasn't even sure that there was one in there. Could it have been there all along for some strange reason, left over from a previous trial run? He studiously didn't look back at the consol. He looked over the three men who had now strapped themselves into their chairs. They seemed to be watching him closely, though he might have been imagining it. He was beginning to think he was as paranoid as Nelson was suggesting before.

"How long captain, until we are back aboard Seaview? We didn't finish the survey, but I believe that we have more than enough data to prove the existence of an extensive vein of palladinium. I want to get started on the data as soon as possible." Summers said. Crane must not have controlled his face very well because Summers suddenly looked back at Nelson and waved a hand. "Not that the data is more important then Nelson of course. But I know that he would be the first one to be concerned about how this is going to play out, the Islanders sure can use that money. Your doctor will have him up an around in no time at all I'm sure."

Crane nodded vaguely, and turned before he grimaced. The man was really pushing it. He seated himself and noted the depth. They were getting close. He redirected the sonar, scanning the area where Seaview should be. The blip that represented his Gray Lady was a reassuring sight on his screen. She was just where she was supposed to be. Over the next several minutes Crane first brought them up to the same level as Seaview, and after consulting with Chip and Sharkey maneuvered the smaller vessel into position for the retrieval system.

It was similar to the one that Nelson had used for the flying submarine, magnetic in nature, and did its work well. A short time later the ratings were securing the DSV in its davits, and Sharkey was cracking the hatch. Crane rose and waved at Sharkey. "Hold it there chief. We have limited room. Let's get Dr Summers and his men off now and then have Jamieson come down. Is there a stretcher standing by?" Summers and the assistants looked at each other and Summers seemed about to protest when Crane spoke again. "We'll download the data once we get the Admiral taken care of. I'll have one of my men bring you the tapes and get our computer man to hook you up for the downloads in the lab." He made sure that his voice left no doubt as to his determination that what he said was going to be how it went.

Summers, after a frown, complied, and climbed out, followed by his men. Crane thought he saw the one who had been sitting with Nelson take a quick glance around the floor before he left, but he wasn't sure. Could be that paranoia kicking in again, looking for things that weren't there. As they cleared the hatch and Jamieson came down, followed by Sharkey, Crane moved up to the front of the DSV and watched out the window until the three men went out the hatch. He turned to find Jamieson crouched over Nelson, and Sharkey nervously hovering over them both. "Jaime?" he asked. All the questions he wanted to ask condensed in that one word.

Jamieson looked up. "Pulse and respiration seem fine. I'm not sure why he's still out, but everyone reacts differently to electrocution. I'll get him back to sickbay and we'll know more soon."

Crane nodded, and then yanked the clean handkerchief out of the back pocket of Sharkey's pants where he had seen the edge poking out. Sharkey was startled, and Jamieson puzzled as he lowered himself to the deck and using the handkerchief fished the hypo out from under the edge of the consol. He showed them what he had and then carefully wrapped it up. He handed it to Jamieson who looked at him and asked, "What's this?"

"I don't know. I saw it there a while ago. Run a test on it will you, find out what was in it." He looked at Nelson. "Do a blood test too, everything you can think of."

Jamieson stood up, his face intent. "I thought this was a straightforward case of electrical shock." He said, tucking the small bundle into his bag.

Crane looked back at him seriously. "It might be, but I want to know for sure. There are strange things going on…..I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but there's something." He broke off and spun around to face Sharkey. "Chief, I want Patterson in here and looking at that panel" he indicated the engineering panel. "I found a wire completely undone and I want to know how it got that way." He went back up to the pilot's area and flipped some power switches. He then went back and took the videotape out of the recorder. He handed it to Sharkey.

"Take this to the photo lab. Have Iverson make a complete copy up to time indicator 42569. Give that copy to Summers and no mention is to be made of anything about this. All data is to be downloaded to their lab, but I want a complete copy of everything preserved for us. No mention is to be made of that or that we found a hypodermic in the DSV. Is that understood?"

Sharkey nodded and took the tape. Jamieson was coordinating the removal of Nelson from the DSV, and the two men stood and watched s the admiral was gently lifted from the vessel. Sharkey looked at Crane. "You think that Summers guy did something to the admiral, sir?"

"I don't know Chief. I heard what sounded like a consol panel snapping back into place before we launched. I didn't know what it was at the time, but I heard it later when I looked into the engineering panel and found the loose wire." His face was grim as he watched Jamieson climb out of the DSV after Nelson. He turned burning golden eyes on Sharkey. "I am going to find out what is going on and if Summers caused this….." he broke off, not needing to finish. Sharkey nodded in agreement.

The two men climbed out of the DSV. Sharkey instantly dispatched a rating to the photo lab with concise instructions, and then went to call Patterson down. Crane saw that Chip was waiting for him near the hatchway. He joined him, and the two headed out of the missile room, headed toward sickbay without any discussion as to their destination. Chip cast a glance at his friend's grim face, and knew that there was more going on than the injury to Nelson, as if that wasn't enough. He glanced around. They were alone.

"What's going on Lee?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. But I am going to find out" Came the terse reply. They went up a companionway and were almost to Sickbay when Crane suddenly stopped. Chip went several steps before he realized that Crane was not at his side. He turned to look at him.

"Lee?" he said, moving back to stand in front of his friend who was standing with his head down. "Lee?" he said again when there was no response. The dark head rose and Morton found himself looking into a pair of blazing golden eyes, angry eyes, with a sheen of tears across them. Crane raised a fisted hand and Chip could see it was shaking.

"I had to do CPR on him Chip. He wasn't breathing and his heart had stopped. All I can think about is what if he hadn't responded, what if his heart hadn't started, or he hadn't started breathing. We couldn't have gotten to you in time. There wouldn't have been any chance….." he stopped.

Morton glanced around again. The passageway was still empty. He knew Crane was a private man, and wouldn't want the crew to see him in less than full emotional control. He put a hand on Crane's shoulder, trying to give what support he could. Crane looked up at him again. "I know it couldn't have been easy for you. I'm just glad you were there. Short of having Jaime or one of the corpsmen standing by, you were the best trained. You have to focus on the fact that he did make it, that and figuring out what's going on. What happened exactly?"

"That's just it. I don't KNOW what happened exactly. I know that the admiral was electrocuted when a loose wire came in contact with the metal of the consol top. When he reached for a particular control it zapped him. What I don't know is if the wire came loose by itself, or if it had help. I also don't know why there was an empty hypodermic lying on the floor wedged most of the way under a consol. I had to leave him alone with Summers and his assistants; There was no other way to get the Niobe moving again. They could have injected him with something, poisoned him while I was right there." He stopped, taking a deep breath and visibly trying to calm himself down.

Chip pursed his lips in thought. "Could the hypodermic have been there from some previous trip?"

"It could have. Maybe Jaime can tell us if the contents were dried out." Crane replied.

"If it was something that was given to the admiral that puts a whole new light on the whole thing. You don't just happen to have a filled hypodermic with you on a voyage to the bottom of the sea. It means they planned to use it on someone. That being said, that probably means that they knew that there would be an opportunity to use it, such as after the admiral was electrocuted. The whole question is why? What is there to gain in doing something like this?"

Crane shook his head and leaned back against the bulkhead. It felt good to be able to talk about this to someone, even if this wasn't the best venue to do it. "I don't know." He rubbed one hand over his face. He was tired, and worried. Nelson was not a young man. He was in good condition for his age, but there was the smoking, and possibly whatever was in that hypo…... He sighed. He had a lot of questions and no answers. Maybe the tests, the video, or the data would give him something. Without Nelson though the last two were worthless. He couldn't exactly ask Summers what was going on with the data and expect a legitimate answer. He pushed away from the bulkhead and gave Morton a small smile of thanks, along with a pat on the shoulder. Those broad shoulders had supported him once again when he had felt it was almost too much to go on. What a good friend he had in Chip.

Morton, sensing that Crane had regained his equilibrium for the moment nodded and they continued down the passageway to the sickbay. They entered quietly, to find Jamieson and one of the corpsmen leaning over Nelson who was in one of the bunks. The two officers could hear the steady beep of a heart monitor. Jamieson looked around as they came in, and frowned.

"Gee, what took you so long?" he said. He finished what he was doing and with a nod at the corpsman indicated that the two officers should follow him into his office. Crane diverted to Nelson's bunk, and stared down at the sleeping man for a moment. He reached out and touched Nelson's hand, giving it a squeeze before he followed Chip into the office. They took seats in front of Jamieson's desk.

Jamieson frowned some more. "I have the hypo in the lab now, and have drawn a blood sample as well. I won't have the results for about an hour at the least, more if there is something really obscure." He cast an experienced eye over Crane. "I suppose it would be useless for me to suggest a short nap." He said raising an eyebrow. At Crane grimace he nodded. "What I thought. At least go get something to eat, and I mean eat it, don't sit and play with it. I'll call you when I have any results or when he shows signs of waking." He spoke firmly, in his usual 'Listen to me, I'm the doctor, I know what I'm doing' tone of voice. He stood up to go back in the sickbay. Morton and Crane also rose. As Jamieson passed, Crane latched on to his arm.

"Jamie. Did I…was it…Is there any damage, from when he stopped breathing or the CPR?" Crane asked anxiously.

Jamison reached over and patted the hand on his arm and then gripped it firmly. "You did everything right Captain. All my tests are saying he's fine. I won't know for sure until he's conscious, but he's breathing well on his own, and all reflexes are normal, so I'm optimistic." He squeezed the hand again, and then went into the sickbay. Crane looked after him for a moment and then looked at Morton who smiled at him gently.

"Come on Lee. Let's get you something to eat while we wait for some answers." He steered Crane out of the compartment, and towards the wardroom. "Do you think we need to put some men on Summers and his men, discretely I mean…." They disappeared down the corridor.

Chapter 4

To Nelson it was as if he suddenly woke up in some kind of funhouse. Sounds were strange; coming in distorted waves. He was hot, then cold, then simply warm. He could feel something like a blanket over him, but it seemed to get heavier and then lighter, then heavier again. All of his senses were out of control. Unsure of how he ended up in this predicament he tried to remember the last thing he was doing before he became aware of the strangeness. After what seemed like an eternity of trying he remembered the DSV. He and Lee had gotten on the DSV with Summers and his assistants. They had gone down to the trench, began the survey, and then…then he didn't know. That was all he could remember. What he felt like was vaguely reminiscent of narcosis of the deep, a danger for divers using various atmospheres at depth. It was almost like being drunk, but much more dangerous. He hadn't been diving so that wasn't it. He decided that opening his eyes might give him more information. He did so, and found himself looking into the hazel eyes of Will Jamieson, who was studying him closely. As his eyes opened, Jamieson smiled, and glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

The doctor then turned his attention back to Nelson who was studying him with a puzzled look. "Do you know who I am?" Jamieson asked.

Nelson scowled at him, as the question seemed to resonate around in his head as if someone had struck a large gong. He nodded, squinting against the pain.

"Good. Now can you tell me who you are?" Jamieson asked.

Nelson frown again as the question again rang in his head. "Only if you promise to quit yelling questions at me!" he finally squeezed out between the waves of pain the question had caused. There was a quiet chuckle from somewhere behind Jamieson, and Nelson thought he recognized it.

"Deal." Jamieson said quietly. "I'll even throw in some aspirin if you tell me what you last remember."

"Blackmailer." He grumbled. "Harriman Nelson, Admiral, US Navy, retired. I was in the DSV Niobe doing a survey." He really wanted that aspirin.

Jamieson nodded then turned to his corpsman who was standing nearby. He sent him off to the drug cabinet for a painkiller. Turning back he smiled at Nelson. "I don't imagine you remember much past that?" he asked obliquely.

"No, I do not. Perhaps you could share with me." Nelson groused again, closing his eyes against the waves of pain in his head. In between the waves there he noticed that his chest was also painful, and raised his hand to rub at it. Jamieson captured that hand and held it back.

"Don't rub. You're bruised a little there. The painkiller will take care of that too. You have had an electrical shock, from one of the boards in the DSV. You were electrocuted. Your heart stopped, as did your respiration. You were revived there on the DSV and they brought you back here to my tender mercies." Nelson sensed that it was the short version of what had happened, and he was sure he would have questions later, but for now he just wanted the pain to go away. Jamieson was injecting something into his IV, and he knew he would soon be back to sleep and he closed his eyes, waiting, but there was something he needed to ask first. "Lee…." He ground out through clenched teeth. He sensed movement at his side, and a warm hand took his in a firm grip.

"I'm here Admiral. Everything is fine. We all made it back….all of us." He thought that Crane's voice broke a little, but he wasn't sure as the pleasant effect of the painkiller was carrying him off. He gripped the hand back and sank into the blackness secure now that he had made sure Crane was there.

Crane felt the grip loosen as Nelson drifted off, and gently laid Nelson's hand back at his side. Jamieson once again herded Crane, and Morton who had stayed back out of the way, into his office. "No signs of any damage so far. The headache isn't unexpected, and should be gone by the time he wakes up again, which won't be until morning. That being so I expect you, Captain, to get some sleep. I am not having both of you in here at the same time if I can help it."

"Jamie..." Crane started only to stop at Jamieson's look. He sighed, and tried another tack. "Any test results yet?" He had the original of the video tape in his cabin, locked in the safe, also a disc containing all of the data collected. He would share it with Nelson when possible or with someone from the Institute if they got back before Nelson was well enough. He had already started them for Santa Barbara after eating earlier. He had also taken the time to slip back into his familiar khakis.

Jamieson picked up a file off his desk and waved it. "I got them back, but they won't do you any good, not if you are trying to prove that someone injected the admiral with something." He threw it back on the desk. Crane frowned and looked at the file.

"There was something in the hypodermic though, right?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yes, there was something there, and it was relatively fresh, though we couldn't say exactly how long it had been there, certainly not longer than 48 to 72 hours."

"And you tested the admiral's blood for the same substance, right." Morton asked, not sure why Jamieson was presenting such a negative outcome.

The doctor nodded. "Indeed, and the substance was present, in relatively large quantities."

"I hear a 'but' in there somewhere." Chip said, just as puzzled as Crane.

"Yes, you do." Jamieson said and leaned back in his chair. "To put it in layman's terms, the substance in the hypodermic was one that is naturally present in the human body, one that would be even more prevalent in a body that went through the trauma that the admiral's body had just gone through. While his levels were elevated, unnaturally so I believe, there is no way you could prove that."

"What did this substance do?" Morton asked. There just seemed to be more questions. Why couldn't they get just one answer?

"It is a type of natural painkiller, one that at certain levels renders the person unconscious. Medical researchers isolated it several years ago, and have been developing it for use as a non-addictive painkiller for use in post-surgical and chronic pain conditions. The tests indicate that the dosage that was most likely in the hypodermic, on top of the chemical already present in the admiral's system due to the shock, would have rendered him unconscious for just about the length of time we observed."

The three men sat silently for a moment, each contemplating this newest development. Crane finally stood, and began to pace the small room. "So if someone wanted to keep the admiral unconscious, but not have it traceable, this would be the perfect way to do it?" He said, stopping and fixing Jamieson with an intense look. The doctor nodded. Crane started pacing again. "I wish Patterson could have given me something about the wire, but he says it could have come loose on its own. No help there. I know that I heard a sound like one of the panel tops being closed, when the assistants were getting ready to go. I thought they were testing the equipment, but they were setting up the electrocution." Crane muttered, almost to himself. Morton noticed he was playing with the academy ring on his left hand as he often did when he was thinking. The two men watched the captain pace back and forth for several minutes before he came to a stop before the bulkhead. He pulled back his right arm, as if he were going to hit it, but was stopped by Jamieson's quick yell.

"Don't!"

Crane cast a nasty glace at the CMO, but turned away from the bulkhead, and sat back down. "Fine. So we know how, and we probably know whom, but that's it. We haven't got a clue as to WHY." They all looked at each other, lost in thought.

"Well, it's pretty obvious to me that they didn't want the admiral to be aware of something that was down there. You said that Summers didn't have any problem with you going, even though he knew you didn't like him, but he had a fit about Nelson going. The question is what did they not want him to see so badly that they would risk killing him to keep him from it?" Morton finally said, putting everything together.

"The survey was going well until the admiral was injured, right?" he asked Crane.

"Yeah, they all seemed happy. The admiral and Summers were tossing around all kinds of scientific jargon, and everyone was convinced that the main vein would be just ahead. Even the smaller veins were large enough for mining they were saying. They didn't try to hide anything, or keep our attention away from any thing that I could tell."

"So that means that what ever it was had to be there, but after the admiral was out of commission. What did you see once you got going again, and how did they act?" Morton postulated. This time he rose to his feet and did the pacing.

Crane closed his eyes and let his mind drift back until he was back in the DSV again. It was a technique he had learned many years before that gave him almost total recall of any given memory within a certain amount of time. This time it was so real that he once again felt the surge of fear he had felt at seeing Nelson so still and pale, almost as if he were there again. He watched himself go through the motions of getting the DSV moving again. Trying to remember the brief glances he had spared for the other men. "Summers wanted me to go up right there, to not proceed down the trench. I told him 'No. We can't go up here. The trench narrows above us. Also the Seaview is further on to the north of us by now. We'd have to go against the currents to reach them. It would take longer up there. We'll move down the trench and then come up near Seaview. I'll contact them by radio when it's back up.' " Both Morton and Jamieson had noted the change in how the captain was speaking, it was almost like listening to a recording, with none of the usual nuances in the voice. They were familiar with Crane's exceptional level of recall, and knew he was playing the conversation back like a tape recorder almost. It was very strange sometimes to contemplate the things this man had done, had become, to do what he did. They didn't interrupt. They just waited until he spoke again.

"Then after I refused he asked again, trying to make it sound like it would be the fastest way to help the admiral." Crane was remembering how he had relied to Summers 'We can't go up for another half mile according to the charts. Once I get propulsion online I can cover that in less than ten minutes. By that time I'll have the radio on line and I can contact the boat and have them standing by. It'll save time. Now if you don't mind, I think I should concentrate on this right now.' He watched mentally as Summers retreated back to the rear of the DSV. There was silence then, Crane blinked at them almost like he was waking up. "They were nervous, talking among themselves. I think it was about then that I saw the 'stuff'." He still didn't know what to call it.

"The STUFF?" Jamieson asked, an amused look in his eyes. Crane shrugged at him.

"I don't know what it was. I haven't ever seen anything like it." he described what he had seen, and the other two men shook their heads. Neither of them had heard of anything similar either. "I want the admiral to see the tapes. I had a copy made up to the point where we went dark, and gave that one to Summers. He won't know that it isn't the same tape. I have copies of all the data collected too. I just don't know what I'm looking at. "

Jamieson shook his head. "I know what you are going to ask, but no. He can't look at the tape or the data. I want him to rest. He not going to feel very well for at least another day, and then he'll have to take it slow. His system has had a very big shock, if you'll forgive the pun; he's not young anymore. He can't bounce back like certain captains and XOs," the doctor said firmly. "I don't want you to even mention it to him yet. I want him RESTING. Understood?"

Crane nodded reluctantly. He wanted to solve the puzzle, but he didn't want to endanger Nelson in any way. The problem was that they would be back at the Institute by tomorrow night, and Summers and his assistants would be gone. He sighed. That meant he would have to go to some of the scientists at NIMR. While he knew most of them, and had a good working relationship with them as long as they stayed off his boat, he really didn't know them, and he was reluctant to trust his possibly paranoid suppositions with them. He would just have to present them with the video and the data and let them draw their own conclusions. Nelson had hired the best, and he was going to try them out it seemed. Crane looked at Chip. "Any reason that you can think of to keep them around Santa Barbara after we dock?"

Morton shook his head. "We could develop engine problems. That could keep us out until the admiral is well enough to look at the tape."

Jamieson shook his head. "No. He would worry about what's wrong. He's as bad as the boat's captain about it. If we tell him there's a problem that evidently none of you can solve he'll be trying to get out of bed to look at it, or be agitated and upset when I won't let him go."

Crane scowled at the doctor who seemed determined to block his every attempt to get to the bottom of this puzzle. Jamieson raised an eyebrow back at him, calmly. Crane knew Jamieson's only concern was for Nelson, and he couldn't fault that. He sighed again. "Okay. So we get back to Santa Barbara and they take off. We know that Summers is a bigwig at that Ferrar Institute. We should be able to track him down if we have to." He rose to his feet, Morton following along. Crane looked at Jamieson. "You'll let me know if …."

"He won't be awake until morning. There will be someone with him all night. If there is any change I'll let you know. Now get some sleep." Jamieson cut him off, ignoring the scowl thrown his way again.

Crane and Morton left, and Jamieson sat for a moment looking at the closed door. He believed everything his captain had suggested, and was prepared to say that he believed that Nelson had been injected with the chemical. Unfortunately as he had said there was no medical way to differentiate between the injected version and the natural output of Nelson's own system. It made him angry that what was still an experimental drug had been injected into a man that had just suffered the trauma of an electrical shock. No responsible doctor, MD or PhD, would take such a risk with an untried chemical, much less on an injured person. He wandered into the sickbay, noting that his corpsman had lowered the lights and was sitting at the small desk reading a medical book in the small desk light. Jamieson waved to him to remain seated, and went over to the admiral. He quickly ran through the checks. Everything was looking good. He wrote his orders on the chart, and left for his own cabin, making sure that he would be notified if any change were observed.

The next evening Crane and Morton stood on Seaview's sail and watched as Summers, his two assistants, and the two pilots disappeared up the quayside. Crane leaned on the rail, staring after the vanished men. He had enjoyed the look that had come into Summers' eyes as the scientist went down the gangplank. He knew that Crane knew, and had seen Crane's promise of retribution. Morton looked at Crane and smiled.

"Well, at least now you can get some answers. Or at least on Monday you can, unless you want to turf someone out of bed at this hour on the weekend." He said. It was after 2200 on Saturday.

Crane shook his head. "I need their cooperation, and they don't kowtow to me like they do to the admiral. I have to approach them from a slightly different direction than he would. But come 0900 Monday all bets are off. I already had Angie put requests out to the scientists that I think will be the best to consult. I wish I could ask the admiral to suggest someone, but that would just get him asking questions and Jaime would have my hide if I did it."

Morton nodded and leaned beside Crane, studying the stars that shown so brightly above them. The shape of the bay was protecting them from the breeze that was blowing in off the ocean, and it was pleasant here on deck. The day had gone quickly. Nelson had woke around nine, only to go back to sleep with another of Jaime's potions. Crane had spent some time with him, throughout the day, recounting the events that had followed his electrocution, but with a carefully edited story. Crane's ONI training had stood him in good stead since Nelson was not suspicious. Nelson would be transferred on Monday to his own home, where one of the corpsmen would stay with him until Jaime said he was good to go. Nelson hadn't been enthused about that thought, but had seized the opportunity to dodge a stay in the infirmary at the Institute.

The two friends stood there in silent companionship for several minutes before Crane stirred. "Do you think I'm just being paranoid with this Chip? Seeing plots where there aren't any?" he asked.

Morton considered carefully. Crane deserved an honest answer. "No. I don't. I think you have legitimate reasons to be suspicious of the circumstances. Summers very definitely didn't want the admiral along, and I think that the evidence we've found suggests that he took steps to make sure that the admiral didn't see something that was down there. I think he thought you were too dumb to recognize what ever it was, and was too impressed with his own cleverness to think we would suspect anything." He paused for a moment. "You do realize that they had to have brought that chemical with them, not even knowing that they would need it for the admiral. That means that they must have known there was the possibility that they would have to some kind of 'damage control' in case they were found out. It seems to me that the electrocution was the spur of the moment thing, and your fast action meant that they needed to use the chemical to make sure that Nelson stayed down."

Crane nodded. He had indeed thought of that. ONI training gave you a lot of insight into the darker side of people. He straightened up and headed toward the hatch that was dogged open. Morton followed behind. Crane dropped down into the control room, and after a quick glance around at the few men on duty moved up to the nose where he sat down. He intended to stay on board tonight and tomorrow, and be there early on Monday to catch any early rising scientists. He also wanted to see Nelson off. He looked at Morton who had also seated himself. "Go home Chip. You might as well. There's nothing going on here tonight, and I won't have any answers until Monday."

"And need I ask what you are going to do?" Morton said, knowing what Crane had planned. He had no intention of leaving his friend alone here with only the anchor watch and Jamieson and his men. Sharkey was also aboard he knew. The faithful chief planned to go along with Nelson on Monday, ostensibly to help out, but also as a guard of sorts. It had made Crane feel better to know that someone could be there while he looked into the other matters. He had no reason to suspect that Nelson was still in danger, but he would take no chances, and Sharkey could hover around without raising any suspicions. He hoped.

Crane smiled at his friend, and confirmed Morton's guess. "I'm staying on board until the admiral is moved." He stretched, and thought of the reports he needed to finish, might as well get to those tonight. He hadn't slept much the night before, and wasn't feeling like sleeping tonight either. He was anxious, and angry, and even a little ashamed. This had all gone on right under his nose. He had known there was something about Summers that was off, he should have acted on the feeling. His laxness had almost cost Nelson his life.

Morton was watching the emotions pass through the golden eyes. He had learned to read those eyes over the years, and he saw the regret overcome the other emotions. "It wasn't your fault Lee." He said, sitting back in the chair and stretching out his legs. "Both the admiral and I told you that you were being paranoid, that you were letting your dislike for Summers color your judgment. Blame us if there has to be blame. Hell, blame Nelson because he pushed to keep the survey going when we found those two drunk in their cabin. You just went along to make everybody happy."

Crane looked at him for a moment, doubt in his eyes. Then he smiled a little. "Okay. I'll blame you. What's an XO for anyway if not to take the blame?" The two shared a laugh. They sat here for a while, discussing possible reasons for what had happened, and how to prevent future happenings. Morton agreed with Crane that a more through background check into perspective supercargo would be a good idea. Now it was just a matter of getting Nelson to agree. Neither really wanted to tackle that particular mountain, so they went up to their cabins for the night.

Chapter 5

Nelson sat up in his bed, and watched as Sharkey wondered down the hall outside his room for the umpteenth time since they had arrived here at Nelson's house. The house was on the beach three miles north of the Institute. It was a large house, with several guest rooms beside the master bedroom and an expansive study large enough to hold a good portion of his books. The rest had been consigned to the former sitting room that had been turned into a formal library. He had protested when Jamieson had made him go directly to his bed after the trip from the submarine. He was feeling very much improved from yesterday, but found himself with a few odd symptoms that Jamieson assured him would fade quickly. One of the worst, at least as far as his companions were concerned he was sure, was that his emotions were all over the board. One minute he was happy, the next he was sad, the next raging angry.

He had spent the previous two days drifting in and out, and generally catching up on what had happened. From Lee's terse account Nelson knew a loose wire in the engineering panel of the DSV had electrocuted him. While Crane had not supplied many details about what happened after that, he had managed to get from Jamieson that Crane himself had performed CPR and brought him back. He had attributed Crane's reticence about the time following the shock to not wanting to make much of that fact. Now he was beginning to wonder. First there had been Crane's silence. Then the constant presence of a corpsman in the room at all times, almost like a guard. Jamieson had also taken three blood samples in the last two days. Now, not only did he have a corpsman staying with him round the clock, but Sharkey had attached himself to the house as well. They had been home for almost two hours, it was now 0900, and Sharkey had patrolled the perimeters since then, looking out every window and checking every door. Nelson had watched him tour the property from his window. He was going to find out what was going on.

"Francis, in here, now!" He shouted as Sharkey went by in the hall again. Sharkey came in, the slightly hangdog look in his eyes. Nelson ignored it. "What's going on?" Nelson growled. He found that his anger level was rising again for no apparent reason, but he let it fuel his words.

"Going on, sir?" Sharkey repeated. The failed attempt at innocence made Nelson all the more positive something was up.

"Yes, Francis, going on. As in what is going on that no one is mentioning to me? I am assuming that Jamieson had some hand in it, no doubt with the cooperation of Captain Crane and the rest of you, but it ends NOW. I want to know what is going on, all of it."

Sharkey hemmed and hawed for several minutes, but finally spilled the beans. He revealed how the captain suspected that the panel had been rigged, and that Nelson had be injected with something, he didn't know what, that had kept him unconscious for the rest of the trip, and then some. He told how the captain suspected that there was something that Summers had not wanted Nelson to see there in the trench, and that the captain had managed to get some videotape of the part of the trench they traveled on the way out without Summers knowledge, and copies of the data that Summers had collected to that point. He said he had heard that the captain was going to be talking to some of the scientists at the Institute today, to try to figure out what it was that Summers was trying to hide. As he finished talking the admiral was on his feet and looking for a pair of pants.

Sharkey looked frantically at the door, expecting Jamieson to appear magically and protest, or even worse blame Sharkey for the admiral's movements. "Uh Admiral…. The doc said you needed to stay put…he…he ain't gonna be happy about this…and the captain, he said I was to stay here…..I don't think you should do anything….." Nelson ignored his blustering, and kept dressing. He was soon fully dressed and heading out the door to his room. He ran into the corpsman halfway down the stairs.

"Uh sir…admiral, Doctor Jamieson wanted you to stay in bed for at least a couple more hours. I don't think he wanted you to get dressed at all…" he trailed off as Nelson kept going right out the front door, Sharkey in tow. "Admiral!" he cried, and took off after them. If he couldn't keep the man in, he was at least going to go along with him.

Ten minutes later Sharkey pulled the car to a stop in front of the Institute science labs. Nelson bailed out of the passenger seat and was halfway up the stairs to the main doors before Sharkey or the corpsman could even get out of the car. The two men looked at each other and rolled their eyes. THIS was a man that needed to rest? They followed him into the building.

Nelson quickly collared a guard who pointed him in the direction that he had seen Captain Crane go thirty minutes earlier in the company of Dr Hotchkiss, the Institute expert on corals. Nelson went to the door of the lab assigned to Hotchkiss, and without knocking barged into the room. Crane and Hotchkiss were sitting in front of a monitor watching what Nelson assumed to be the tape. Hotchkiss leaped to his feet when the door flung open, his mouth open to protest the intrusion before he saw whom it was. Crane had also came to his feet, but had enough presence of mind to reach over and stop the tape.

Nelson stomped into the room, ignoring Hotchkiss, and the two panting men who had appeared behind him. Crane cast the two men a glance, in response to which Sharkey gave an exaggerated shrug and a shake of his head, Crane turned his attention to the obviously upset man before him. "Admiral." He said calmly before Nelson could speak. "I understood that the doctor wanted you to rest for a day or so at home. I didn't expect you in today."

"Oh can it captain. When exactly were you planning to tell me that someone tried to kill me, not once but twice? It seems like something that should have been brought to my attention immediately upon regaining my faculties, which I assure you I am in complete control of, and have been for some time now. I do not appreciate being treated like an invalid!" Nelson snapped the famous family temper in full flame. The three other men in the room instantly stepped back and tried to make themselves unobtrusive. The target of the temper merely nodded and met the blazing blue eyes calmly.

"You would have been informed of everything when it became safe to do so according to your physician. The physician to whom YOU gave complete autonomy in all medical matters aboard Seaview." Was the calm reply.

"Please. I will not listen to you toe the party line when you are over it yourself more often than not. I..."

"If I am not mistaken ADMIRAL, when I wish to contravene the Chief Medical Officer's orders for myself you frequently remind me of his authority in these matters. Even to the extent of not allowing me to see status reports or even have a verbal update on the boat's status. I see no difference in this matter." Crane interrupted.

The two men stood toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye despite their varying heights. Nelson could see that Crane was not going to back down. Once Crane took on that tone and started emphasizing Nelson's rank and Jamieson's title he knew that Crane had dug in and was going to refuse to budge. The younger officer obviously truly believed that keeping the information from Nelson was medically necessary. Nelson knew Crane well enough to know that nothing he could say would convince Crane to do anything that Jamieson said might be damaging. This was not an argument he was going to win right now, maybe not ever, time to regroup. His anger was starting to fade and the curiosity began to take over. He snorted, and looked around, noting the blank monitor. He nodded at it.

"Is that the video tape, the one you took after I was shocked?"

Crane, reading the capitulation in the blue eyes, but knowing that the conversation was not over, took the change of subject calmly. "Yes. Dr. Hotchkiss and I were getting ready to view the part I took without Summers knowledge. He hasn't spotted anything strange in the first part. Am I to understand that you all will be joining us?" he glanced at Sharkey and the corpsman standing by the doorway. Nelson followed his gaze and grimaced. This was going to make that argument later harder. Damn, he hated to lose.

"Oh all right Lee." He finally said. "I'm not supposed to be here, and you're constantly doing things you're not supposed to do. Let's call it even and get on with it."

Crane smiled and drew the large office chair from behind Hotchkiss' desk over in front of the monitor. "There's something here, I think it's some kind of coral or another animal like that, it didn't look like anything I've seen though, and I didn't know there was any that deep. I first noticed it when I was moving the lights around trying to get a good bearing on the wall, before the sonar came back on, and I saw it waving on the walls. Then I noticed on the monitors that it was…glowing, by itself I mean, not in reflected light." He turned the tape on and forwarded to the time stamp he had memorized over the last two days of viewing the tape alone. He had gone through several books looking for any information on what it could be, but had no found anything that fit all the right criteria. That glow was the biggest problem. He could find nothing that glowed. After five hour spent in the Institute library to no avail, Crane had begun to think he had been seeing things due to the stress of the moment. He frowned at the screen as the tape reached the right time and he once again found himself looking at the strange phenomenon. "It's like the Lophelia Pertusa, but that doesn't glow and it's too deep, but the color is right and so is the form, maybe something in the same family…?" He said and turned to the two scientists, who were staring at him. "What?" he asked, wondering if he had forgotten to shave some part of his face in his haste to get ready this morning. He then noticed that the two men by the door were staring at him too. "What!" he demanded.

"And you would know about Lophelia Pertusa exactly how?" Nelson said. He had been settling himself in the chair when he heard the uncharacteristic question and paused in mid-motion. He saw Hotchkiss do a double take, and saw that he was staring as well.

Crane looked at him in puzzlement for a moment then frowned at them all, flopping into the other chair with that peculiar grace of his that made even the frustrated flop seem coordinated. "I can read books you know! I did a little research yesterday in the library." A faint flush could be seen beneath his olive complexion.

Nelson who had continued seating himself, smiled. 'A little research' would not have yielded something so obscure as the Lophila. Evidently his captain had spent quite some time in the library. One also tended to forget that Lee Crane in getting that master's degree had spent his time in libraries doing research. Hotchkiss, not alone among the scientists at the Institute Nelson was sure, had no doubt seen the captain as a man of action with little capacity for scientific thought. Well that had changed. He looked at the frozen picture on the screen, and frowned. "Turn it on." He commanded, the amusement gone, curiosity in its place. His mood was doing a complete turn around, as he got more involved. It felt good to be back in harness, so to speak.

Crane leaned forward and hit the play button and then got out of the way as the two scientists peered closely at the screen. They watched the sequence several times. Speaking in low voices using obscure Latin names, some of which Crane remembered from his research, but otherwise completely incomprehensible. Crane noticed that Sharkey and the corpsman had availed themselves of chairs near the door, and he nodded in approbation of their dedication. Nelson wasn't an easy man to say no to, and he didn't blame them for Nelson bolting his house. Jamieson though might have another opinion. He smiled in anticipation of the meeting. His mind was brought back to the matter at hand as some portion of his mind noticed that a note of excitement had entered the conversation in front of the monitor. As he looked back, Nelson was sitting back in the large chair, with a gleam in his eye that told Crane he had figured out something.

"Well, that explains the what." Nelson said, "But now the question is why?" He rocked back in the chair, and Crane knew he was thinking hard. Looking at Hotchkiss, Crane could see an excitement in his eyes that he recognized from having seen it in Nelson's in the past. What ever that was down there, it was something good, something rare, and exciting to the scientists at least.

"I'm glad it explains something to you two," he said, "but we less scientific sorts need an explanation." He peered at the tape again where Nelson had stopped it on a close up of one of the strange…..things.

"Don't put yourself down that way Lee. Actually you were right about what it is, or nearly so." Nelson said casting a glance at Crane then looking back at the screen. "It is a member of the Lophila family, though not the one you found. This one is even more obscure than the Pertusa. I doubt if there are any pictures in any books. This is the Urana, it only grows at depth and under very particular conditions, conditions which give me a very good idea of why I was…knocked out."

"That being?" Crane prompted.

"The Urana, as its name may suggest, grows only in areas where there are significant levels of Uranium in the substrate to which they attach. Pitchblende, the rock that uranium is found in the highest quantities isn't all that common, and hence the scarcity of the coral colonies. It is often found in small quantities where palladinium is found."

"So, " Crane said, "Is the coral a protected species that would keep them from mining the area? I don't think the coral was really all that close to the main part of the palladinium vein. They could probably work around….." He stopped as Nelson was shaking his head.

"No Lee, though that's a point. I think given the poverty level of the Teralane Islands that they probably would have not been too concerned about the coral, and as you know there is no international agreement regarding the protection of endangered or rare species. No, the reason they didn't want anyone to know about the coral is a completely different one, one that the right people would be more than happy to kill for I'm sure." Crane frowned as Nelson explained, unable to figure out where Nelson was going. Nelson smiled at him and looked at Hotchkiss. "I imagine you noticed the extent of the colony?" he asked, and the other scientist nodded. Nelson turned back to Crane. "The colony is one of the largest I have ever heard of. Usually it is small, contained lens of Uranium rich rock in a sea of basalt, a few cubic meters, no more. But this…This one seemed to go on for most of the time that you were there in the trench after my…accident. The colony seemed to span the walls of the trench from bottom to top, that means a sizable uranium lode. The value of that makes the palladinium practically worthless."

"But I thought that after the Galapagos Accord that you couldn't mine Uranium from the sea floor. That one IS enforceable by the international community." Crane said, still puzzled.

Nelson nodded. He had been a major contributor to passing the Galapagos Accord, an international treaty, signed by the sovereign nations of the world agreeing that there would be no mining of any material that could be used for bomb manufacturing from the ocean floor. Even the People's Republic had signed the accord under heavy international pressure, though there was some indication that they were still mining areas in their own territorial waters, they just hadn't been caught yet. It had been a difficult sell to other countries as well, but they had done it, and so far there had been few other governments willing to risk the international furor that would result from breaking the accord. "Indeed, it is forbidden. But what if you were ostensibly mining a perfectly acceptable, and even environmentally correct mineral? Who's to say exactly what you might actually be bringing up on the side? They could sell it on the market as being from a mine on the continental plate. The palladinium would pay for the mining costs, and the uranium would be pure profit. It's perfect."

Crane frowned. "So they go in and mine the area, take the uranium with out letting anyone know, pay the Islanders for the Palladinium with no one there the wiser, and they make a load of money on the side selling contraband as legitimate goods." He summarized, wanting to be sure he understood. "You're right, that could be worth the murder of one or two people, maybe more." He said, and continued frowning as he realized how close they had come to losing Nelson. He met Nelson's eyes. "Is there any way that Summers wouldn't know about this?"

Nelson smiled grimly. "Oh I doubt he initially recognized the coral, he's no expert on calcareous fauna, but he is a mineralogist and since they took samples from the area with the remote robots there is no doubt in my mind that he knew the uranium was there. Later on they probably figured out that the coral was a recognizable marker, and decided they couldn't take the chance."

"The chance that someone like you might see it." Crane said, understanding. He stood up and began pacing. "So, he knew, and he and his men wanted to cover it up." Crane pounded his fist into his open hand. "I thought he was with that Institute on the East Coast, the one you have a reciprocal agreement with for labs and docking facilities."

"The Ferrar Institute. Yes, he's been there several years." Nelson said, his eyes following Crane around the room.

"So what does he gain? It's not like the Institute is going to cover up that kind of thing? At least I know you'd never allow it. What about the board there, do you know them?" Crane asked.

Nelson nodded. "Yes, I do know the board, and you are right, they would never allow it. But you are forgetting one thing. Just because he works for the Ferrar doesn't mean he isn't working for someone else too. In fact it's rather common among some scientists, a way to bolster what isn't always a living wage. A minor tweak of the ethics can yield a fine under the table income." Both Nelson and Crane noticed the Hotchkiss seemed to be studying the floor with abnormal intensity, and both made mental notes to check into the man's past and his present.

"Great! So we know how, we know why, but we can't prove anything so they just get away with it and everyone makes a pile of money. That's lovely!" Crane growled, pacing faster.

"Sit down, Lee. You're making me dizzy, not that it's hard to do lately. And, you're being negative. While we can't really do anything about the electrocution and the injection, there are more than a few things that can be done. Someone, somewhere, probably paid quite a bit of money for Summers, he's not cheap, he has expensive hobbies as you've noted and is a glutton for status. I believe with a few phone calls we can be sure that whoever is behind it doesn't get their money's worth." At Crane's puzzled look Nelson smiled. "Do you remember the punishment of Tantalus? He was doomed to be forever surrounded by water but couldn't drink it, and always near food but couldn't eat it. How better to torment a glutton? We'll just make sure that uranium is permanently out of reach." He started to describe what he had in mind. Soon everyone was smiling.

They were getting up to leave when Nelson suddenly froze. Crane, who had been waiting to put the chair back behind the desk looked at him with concern. "Admiral are you all right?" Out of the corner of his eye Nelson saw Crane motioning to the corpsman, but he waved him off.

"I'm fine Lee. I just had a realization. I had wondered where the Ferrar had gotten the money for a DSV like the Niobe. But now it has all come together I think. I should have remembered right off. The name of the DSV gave it away. I bet I know just who's behind all of this…"

Chapter 6

Summers was pacing back and forth across the expensive Persian rugs. He was alternately pounding his hand in his fist or waving his arms in the air, depending on what he was talking about. The man behind the large desk listened to it all impassively, not even watching the pacing, staring out the windows behind his desk. The man and woman seated in the chairs in front of the desk were listening with deep frowns. As Summers wound down, the woman spoke.

"So we can't do anything?" she said unbelievingly. "We put all that money into that little submarine you said you HAD to have. We supplied you with assistants, not to mention a very competitive salary in addition to your regular pay from that silly Institute that fired you and we get nothing in return?"

"Well gee," Summers said sarcastically, spreading his arms theatrically, "You get me. Since I got nowhere else to go now that the Institute fired me. I can't work in research ever again. No one will hire me on, since Nelson has had me blacklisted! I couldn't get work as a lab assistant at a third rate community college. ME! One of the best mineralogists this world is likely to see. You can't deny that the uranium is there, along with the Palladinium. No one else had found it despite the various surveys in the area. It's not my fault that you couldn't act quickly enough to head off Nelson. Anyway, who knew that he would go that far?" he said the last petulantly.

"You should have just killed him, instead of fooling around with the drug." The second man, who had been sitting with the woman, said. He was a large, Latin male, handsome enough until you looked into his eyes, which were cold and hard. He glanced at the man behind the desk and then back at Summers. "And there are few rewards for failure you will learn that, possibly very quickly. As to who is to blame…that remains to be seen." The dark eyes went back to the man behind the desk, who was still looking out the window. The woman had started to do her own pacing. She was a blond, with an enviable figure. A close look would put her in her forties, though she obviously used every possible trick to appear younger. Her blue eyes were hard and unforgiving as they studied Summers.

Summers for his part wasn't sure how to take the woman, she was hard and cold now, but out in the hall she had had him backed up against the wall and was making a good try at sucking his tongue out of his mouth. When the elevator had signaled the imminent arrival of the other men, she had moved away from him, smoothing her hair and the very expensive and short leather skirt she was wearing which had hiked itself up in the process. He really wasn't sure how to take any of them. The woman intrigued him, the man behind the desk impressed him, and the Latin man frankly scared him. He sighed. He had had such a good thing going here. He had all the money he needed to feed his appetite for adrenaline, for experiences that made him feel alive, and now Nelson and his crew had messed it up.

The woman went to stand before the desk, looking at the back of the big leather chair where the third man sat. "Oh, don't just sit there, daddy. We need to figure out what to do about this. I would think you would be interested enough to make some effort, after all this little project was supposed to pay for your little toy and that other little white elephant which I guess belongs to that Institute now, though why I don't know." She threw herself back in the chair. "Why couldn't our people get a signature on the contract right off. Surely the people in the area have SOME say in what goes on in the area."

"Not with this. It's an international accord. As soon as they were notified that there was uranium in the same rock that housed the Palladinium, and that any ore that was brought up that might include any trace of that uranium would be a violation of the accord they dropped all plans to mine the area. They refused to sign any agreement, even when we 'promised' to not mine anywhere near the uranium vein. Nelson has them scared to make any move with out his full approval, and you can bet that he is not going to let us set foot in there. If it's mined at all it will be some company that Nelson approves of. He'll probably be getting a kickback on it, if the truth was known." Said the man behind the desk. He spun his chair around, and Jason Pritchard III speared them all with his sharp blue eyes. "Just another instance of Nelson and Crane getting in my way, and I'm getting tired of it. What the hell am I paying you all for?" He pounded his fist on the mahogany desk, and then sat back in his big leather chair, breathing heavily. Everyone was silent as he calmed down, the color fading from his face. He looked at the woman. "As to the Niobe, we donated the damn thing to the Ferrar Institute for Summers here to use for the final survey. If he had done his job right we could have gotten more use out of it, as it is we can't exactly take it back."

Summers started to protest, but then thought better of it. Right now he didn't have any job but the one these people were willing to give him, and he didn't want to lose it too. He sat down, and tried to make himself invisible, not something he was used to. Let the bigwigs hash it out; he'd just hang around and find out how to make the most money for the least effort. Maybe he should have killed Nelson. It wouldn't have been difficult. The old man wouldn't have been any loss to anyone, just a bundle of money walking around waiting to be milked, like Crane was doing, that sullen bastard.

He thought back to the day that the Seaview had docked back in Santa Barbara. He and his two research assistants, along with the two disgraced pilots had been shuffled off the submarine like week old garbage. Their bags and equipment had been dumped unceremoniously on the dock, and guards had been posted to watch to make sure that they took only what was theirs evidently. Through it all Crane had been perched on the sail like a vulture, leaning on the rail, arms crossed, watching them. Summers had met the golden eyes once, as they were going over the gangplank, and he had known then that Crane hadn't been fooled by the fake electrocution. Those eyes, which had looked at him with a reserved dislike throughout the voyage, had now become dark lasers promising painful revenge. A look back as they had left he dock, had shown Summers that Crane was still there, watching them out of sight. Summers could still feel that look burning into the back of his head. He was recalled to the present when the Pritchard spoke his name.

"..you meet up with the Tantalus in Klein Point. She's done with the refit and ready to work." Pritchard was saying. "You had those two other sites you said were promising. I think the People's Republic would be more than happy to allow us mining rights in their waters for the proper considerations, though it won't be as profitable as the Islands would have been. Verify the sites and let the legal department know. They'll get on with the right people in their government. I expect to see a projected profit statement from you on my desk in 60 days or less." Pritchard turned his eyes away, and Summers realized he had been dismissed. He looked around, finding himself ignored by the other two. He rose and went out with no further ceremony. He was seriously beginning to wonder if he had made the best decision. Once the door closed behind Summers, Pritchard looked at the remaining two people. "I assume you two are returning to the Hong Kong facility. Wouldn't want to have to post bail in the middle of the night, I have other plans."

The blond woman rose to her feet. She smiled, "Oh I'm sure Betty wouldn't mind. After all it's not like she needs her beauty sleep now does it? Just another call to the plastic surgeon and everything is taken care of." At the frown on the man's face the smile grew. "Calm down Daddy. We're going back tonight. We'll take the helicopter from the helipad to the airport, where the jet is waiting. I wish I could get in some shopping." She added with a moue.

"Shop all you want. You better get something in a nice gray. I understand that's the color of choice in the federal penitentiary." Pritchard replied, smiling nastily.

"Funny Daddy. Just remember if they get me, they get you." She said. Crane had identified her to the international authorities as a kidnapper and attempted murderer. Warrants had been issued for her arrest, as well as for the arrest of her escort.

"I wouldn't count on that if I were you.' He said. He looked at the other man who had been sitting and watching everything. Their eyes clashed, neither looking away until the woman passed between them as she went to make herself a drink at the bar. "And you?" the man behind the desk asked.

The Latin man turned his eyes to watch the woman walk to the bar, and then turned his eyes back to her father. "I have a debt owing, until I can exact that payment then this is as good a way to pass the time as any. I keep busy one way or the other." He two men exchanged looks again, and then nodded to each other in understanding. The Latin man stood and started toward the door. "I will be in the helicopter. I have some calls to make while we are here." He left the room without a backward glance.

"You better not be messing with that one like you do the rest. I don't think you'll like the results." Pritchard said looking at his daughter as she sipped her drink.

She smiled at him. "What's the matter Daddy? Suddenly developing those fatherly feelings you've been missing all these years?"

He snorted and rose to make himself a drink. "I have a lot of money invested in both of you. I don't need to lose it because you can't keep your hands off anything wearing pants."

She frowned at him. "Don't worry Daddy. I can handle him. He wants revenge and so do I. He wants money and so do I. He wants to go back to his little backwater country and kill everyone who helped throw him out and I don't give a damn if he does or not. That makes me the more powerful one. I'm using him, and when I'm done, we'll all have what we want." She swallowed the last of her drink then came over to kiss the air near his cheek. "I'll call next week with the cost projections on the new drug production. Don't spend all MY money on your toys." She sauntered off.

He watched her leave the room and then returned to his chair. He thought back over the last week. He had been livid when he had been informed that the government of the Teralane Island, at the advice of world-renowned scientist Admiral Harriman Nelson, had refused to sign the mining agreement. The revelation of the large uranium deposits had put a halt to everything. Nelson had effectively headed off any possible room to maneuver by reminding the government of the accord, and the consequences thereof. Nelson had effectively scared them into inactivity, despite their poverty level. Pritcorp's herd of tame lawyers had worked some very expensive overtime to come up with some way around the accord that would convince the Islanders to go ahead, after all what they didn't know wouldn't hurt Pritcorp, but Nelson had closed every door.

Now, at the end of it all, Pritchard was left with the bills for the various surveys, the DSV that had been donated to the Ferrar Institute-at least that was tax deductible-and a very well paid mineralogist, who he didn't particularly like, all of which he would have to justify to the board. He threw his empty glass at the wall, and listened in satisfaction as it shattered into pieces. Soon he would do the same to Nelson.

The End…For Now

Author's note: For those of you who do not want to look it up in the web. Niobe was the daughter of Tantalus. For those of you who haven't read my first 'sins' story Tantalus was the name of the submarine built by Pritchard. Since a DSV is basically a small submarine, I thought what better name for the offspring…