Nash huddled on his bunk – the lower bunk - watching his bunkmates with eagle eyes. They were playing cards and pretending to ignore him, but he knew they were watching him. Talking about him. Plotting against him… All of them. They took their cue from Crane, of course, and no one would be sympathetic to his plight. No one would take on Crane. He was too powerful and too malevolent. But Nash would take him down, and then things would be all right. They had to be.

Soon… He'd make a move soon. It took courage to stand against a tyrant and kill him, and Nash was still building his, still convincing himself that it was the right thing to do.

Of course, it was the right thing to do. His friend, Mr. Pem, had made that clear. With Captain Crane out of the way, his place on this boat was assured. The admiral would realize that Crane had poisoned everyone against Nash; he would publicly thank Nash for the service he'd done in removing the cancer from this boat, and Nash's future would be assured… He had to do it…

The door opened and Nash looked up, eyes hardening as he recognized the officer who entered. He had nothing against the XO; they had always rubbed along very well together. But today, he was probably here at the captain's bidding, and Nash knew what he was going to say. He hunched his shoulders and turned his back on the man, refusing to leap up and stand at attention like the rest of the men in the room. Hollow actions… If push came to shove and they were fighting for their lives, it would be every man for himself, and no one would give a damn about respecting the officers…

The XO scanned the men in the room, all standing at attention now, and dismissed them. The COB, who had followed Mr. Morton in, efficiently cleared the men from the room as the XO approached Nash.

The radar expert turned his stony gaze on his superior. He probably should have at least stood up, maybe even saluted, but he didn't feel like it. He felt like smashing something. But a fist in an officer's face would get him confined to the brig so fast, he wouldn't even be able to breathe… He knew he'd better keep his hands off the XO if he wanted his crack at Crane.

Mr. Morton crouched down to look at him, a surprise in Nash's book. And it wasn't that cold, impersonal look that hid every thought and feeling either; it was a look full of compassion as if he actually cared about Nash… Unable to stand the power of that steady gaze, Nash spoke with an amount of insolence he suddenly didn't feel. "What do you want?" He shouldn't talk like that… Crane might be out to get him, but he had no evidence that anyone else was… Why did he have so much anger building inside? Why did he suspect every whispered conversation, every innocent look? Was there really something wrong with him, like the Doc said?

No… No, it couldn't be… He was all right. It was everyone else. That was the only thing that made sense. Crane was poisoning their thoughts. When the captain was out of the way, everything would be normal again…

The COB started toward them, snarling at the insolence, but Mr. Morton waved him off. "I've talked to Dr. McKenzie."

Nash could just imagine what that blowhard had said. The conversation could only have gone one way.

He's very sick, Mr. Morton… I'm afraid he's cracking up.

The bastard… Doctors and lawyers were the most corrupt people in the universe. "So?" He acted like he wasn't afraid, but a part of him worried about what was coming. He needed the money he got from Nelson to support his sick wife and his widowed sister… Mary's treatments were expensive, and Sharon was having trouble finding a job… He was the only one making any money at all. The salary for a man who worked radar at the Institute was generous, but if Crane cut him loose…

"He's concerned that you're not yourself. I think his concerns are valid." Mr. Morton's voice was unexpectedly gentle, but Nash felt no corresponding softening of his fear and anger. He knew what was coming: the punch line that would allow Crane to strip him of his job. Naturally the captain would have his good friend do the dirty work. Nash's fists clenched reflexively.

Mr. Morton noticed, his gaze flashing to Nash's hands, then back to the man's face. He studied Nash for a moment before he delivered the coup de grace. "I'm going to relieve you of duty, and direct you to make daily visits to Dr. McKenzie." He paused before continuing, keeping his voice very quiet and calm. "You're a good man, Steve. If you can get past this, we can see about reviewing your case and returning you to duty. Possibly a shore post."

And he sounded so sincere and so compassionate… But Nash knew it was just an act. Crane's first salvo, a shot over the bow, as it were; there would be no review and no shore post. When this cruise was over, Nash was done, unless he could get rid of Crane first. That Mr. Pem had been right; they were all in on it. No one would be his advocate against Crane. Not even Mr. Morton, who was usually so even-handed. No, even he was on Crane's side… Nash turned his face away angrily. "Liar. This is all coming from him! From Captain Crane, isn't it?"

Mr. Morton rose and stepped back, once again waving off the over-zealous, over-anxious COB. "My decision, Steve. You're clearly not well. This is the best course of action…"

He didn't finish before Nash leaped off the bunk, freezing as the COB leaped between them before he could lay hands on the man. Sharkey had always been Crane's creature. He would skewer Nash if he could… The sailor loomed up into the chief's face, but he directed his words at the officer beyond. "You're a liar! Crane's good buddy, aren't you! Do anything for him, even do his dirty work. But I should have guessed it would be this way. You're all against me! All of you!"

He stumbled and fell back on the bunk, when Sharkey shoved him, but Mr. Morton called the COB off sharply. Nash flashed a sneer at the chief. "Always the watchdog, aren't you. Tell Crane, he'll regret this."

Mr. Morton's eyes hadn't lost the compassion but his voice had turned icy, the way it always did when someone overstepped. "My decision," he said, and that cold voice was deceptively mild. "If you have a problem with it, take it up with me." He executed a perfect turn and walked out.

But Chief Sharkey remained, scowling at him. "You're lucky, Nash. If you'd laid a finger on him, there isn't anything or anyone on this boat that could have saved you." He drew his breath in sharply and tried to gentle his voice… All an act for Nash's sake, as if he were trying to convince him that someone was on his side. "Don't you understand? No one is against you! But if you follow through on your threats to the skipper, you'll have brought any retaliation on yourself." He backed off, giving Nash room to breathe. "Go see the Doc. And rest. Don't do something we'll all regret. Think about that."

Then he was gone, closing the door behind him and leaving Nash alone with his thoughts.