Lee surged through the Sick Bay door into chaos. Chip was on his feet, snapping orders, but blood trickled from his nose in a thin stream and Will McKenzie – bleary-eyed, with dark bags under his eyes – tried to hold an ice pack against the back of the XO's head; difficult to do, since Chip was on the move, pacing between John, sitting on Briggs' abandoned bunk and Pat, tended to by Frank, who looked shaken.

"What happened here?" Lee barked at his friend, as three sailors brushed past him with hurried apologies and raced down the hall, galvanized into action by Chip's orders.

Chip turned toward him, and Lee got a look at the angry bruise spreading across his nose. "Briggs went berserk. We don't know why, but he's roaming the boat right now. I've started a search for him…" He hissed sharply as Will slapped the ice pack against the knot on the back of his head. "Ow! Will…"

"Don't you start with me, commander!" Will spat the words out in exasperated frustration. "I already have one patient running around doing God knows what damage to himself and anyone else he happens to meet. Patterson's popped his stitches, and John was out for at least ten minutes and probably has a mild concussion. Be still!" he snapped irritably as Chip shifted again to send him a frozen glare. "So do you have a concussion, and a possible broken nose, and I have had maybe two hours of sleep in the last twenty-four hours. So do not mess with me." He grabbed Chip's arm and forcibly steered him toward a chair.

Chip didn't resist, but otherwise ignored Will to continue his report, such as it was. "I'm afraid we'll have to consider Briggs as violent. I've put the COB in charge of the search, because Will here has been throwing his weight around." The words were ice-cold, but there was a faint gleam of amusement in the blue eyes. Will snorted in exasperation as he tried to stop the XO's nosebleed.

"I'll ask Chief Sharkey to report to me." Lee headed for Pat, concerned at the sailor's white face, but tossed words at Chip over his shoulder. "Looks like you're Will's for the next twenty-four hours…"

"Count on it," Will said grimly. "I don't think it's broken, commander. I'll have to X-ray that hard head of yours to see how much damage you've done to your skull."

"Twenty-four hours, Will. That's all I can give you." Chill determination hardened Chip's voice. Lee glanced at him, and their eyes met as the XO continued. "I can't afford to be down. The boat needs all of us in working order."

True to form, Will didn't back down. Chip rarely gave him trouble, but the doctor was used to dealing with Lee. The captain knew that Will would prevail, if he found it necessary. "We'll see. After the X-ray, commander."

Lee turned his attention to Pat. Crouching by the sailor's chair, he watched as Frank's needled laid down new stitches to close the ugly gash in Pat's arm. "How bad?"

"Not too bad, skipper." Pat's answer was stoic, but his white face gave his statement the lie. Still, he gamely tried to make a joke. "Gotta watch Doc's instrument tray. You don't want to mess with it."

Lee smiled and laid a hand on Pat's shoulder. "That's two we owe you, Pat."

Pat shook his head wearily. "I didn't do anything, sir. I couldn't stop Briggs, and I couldn't even help John or Mr. Morton." He winced as Frank made another stitch. "I was pretty useless, sir." His words and the tone of his voice betrayed his misery.

"Nonsense," Lee said sharply. "You did your best. And if it weren't for you, we wouldn't have been able to instigate a search so quickly. Don't go thinking you're worthless…"

He didn't have a chance to continue, interrupted when Chief Sharkey burst through the door, his face haggard, his eyes bleak. "Sir!" His voice, raw and hoarse, drew all eyes; glancing hesitantly from Chip to Lee, he made his report to the air between them, as if uncertain which of them to address. Summoning a semblance of calm he clearly didn't feel, he steadied his voice; his clenched hands were an indicator of the turmoil he felt. "We found Briggs, sir, under a ladder on B deck." He swallowed with difficulty. "He's dead, sir."

In the silence that greeted this revelation, Will's soft curse was clearly audible. "Damn it…" The doctor busied himself poking and prodding the knot on Chip's head, hiding his expression, but he bit his lips as he worked, and Lee could clearly tell what he was thinking.

Best not to draw attention to it though. Instead, Lee barked a command at Sharkey. "Details, COB! Describe exactly what you found." Closing his eyes, he waited, busily filling in the details as Sharkey spoke.

"He was lying face-up under the ladder, sir. I don't think he fell… He was completely under the ladder, as if he'd been dragged there. I didn't see any blood, but his throat…" The chief's voice held a haunted tone; the scene had clearly rattled even the hardened Sharkey. "He looked like some kind of wild animal had ripped his throat out…"

"But there was no blood?" Chip's voice struck into the silence, asking the question that Lee needed an answer to. The captain opened his eyes and caught his XO's gaze. The complete lack of the blood that should have accompanied an injury such as the one described merely confirmed their theory… But Lee could see that Chip still had trouble accepting something so far-fetched. Vampires had no place on a submarine, or indeed anywhere outside of a book…

Sharkey, out of the loop for once, nodded slowly, thinking about what he had seen. "He must have been killed elsewhere, sir, and taken to the ladder. There was no blood at all, and there should have been. He must have bled out in something less than a minute with that wound…" He pressed his lips together, a clear signal that his shock had turned to anger. "Briggs was going to be a good man, sir. Ski and Pat…" He glanced aside into Pat's eyes and didn't finish his sentence, but Lee knew what he would have said. Patterson and Kowalski had been enthusiastic about Briggs' work; he was smart and quick, and willing to take direction as needed. The two senior ratings had quickly taken him under their wings so to speak, and he had benefitted from the association. Hard enough that one of their men was dead; worse for Pat, who was worried about one friend and now knew that another was dead… He turned instinctively toward the sailor, but Chip spoke first, clearly on the same wavelength.

"Not your fault, Pat. You did your best. If anyone failed Briggs…" The XO bit the words off and shook Will's ministering hands away. "Sorry, Will. I have a million things to do. I promise, when this is over…"

Will interrupted immediately, slapping a hand against Chip's shoulder to keep him down. "Not when this is over, commander. Right now. If you keel over from a concussion, that is not going to make anything better."

Chip drew breath in for a protest, but stopped when Lee shook his head warningly. It wouldn't do to upset Will any further. He would be feeling Briggs' loss, and that would likely translate to pushing too hard. Lee weighed the consequences, always aware of the memory of his father's demise at the back of his mind. Captain Benjamin Crane had suffered a concussion aboard his ship, the destroyer Maitland, while she was at sea. It had been deemed minor, but three days later, he was dead of a subdural hematoma that hadn't been detected… Lee had been ten years old when the very polite Naval officer had come to the door to break the news to his mother… He had never made a decision in his career that he didn't feel his father looking over his shoulder, but the lesson of how the older Crane had died was a lesson he had learned very well; head injuries were serious business no matter how minor they seemed. "We'll rub along until tomorrow without you, Mr. Morton. Will's right, a head injury could be very serious indeed." He softened the blow with a rueful smile, sensing Chip's silenced protest, as he turned to Will. "Keep me posted, Will. We really can't afford to lose any more men. How's Ski?"

He could almost feel the sudden hush as everyone quieted to listen. Will, too, must have sensed their concern, because he shot a glance around the room as he answered. "His breathing is steady, heart rate better… No signs of returning consciousness yet, but I think he's improving."

"Good to hear, Doc." Sharkey's voice, gruffer than usual, probably hiding emotions he had no wish to betray. Turning, the COB headed for the door. "Don't you worry, Mr. Morton. I'll head up the search, personally. We'll find this bitch before she strikes again."

Judging from the look on Chip's face, he wasn't reassured. Lee stifled a smile and crooked his finger at his XO. "A word, Chip."

Chip glanced at Will with narrowed eyes, and the doctor backed off a little. He rose and crossed to Lee's side, dropping his voice so that no one would hear his protest. "I'm fine. And you need me…"

"I need you here," Lee interrupted, lowering his own voice. "She lured Briggs out of Sick Bay, and we have no idea how. You're the only one in this room besides me who has any idea what we may be facing. I don't want her coming after Pat or Ski…" He laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You're better than any watch dog. Keep an eye on things here."

For a moment, Chip's gaze was skeptical; he shot a glance at Pat and his eyes narrowed. Pat clearly could not defend himself; Ski was completely vulnerable. John and Will were used to restraining recalcitrant sailors, but they were no fighters… Lee wasn't lying, and it was clear that Chip was realizing that. Someone needed to be here to watch over things, because this creature, whatever she might be, appeared to prey on the vulnerable… Chip's presence here would ease Will's medical sensibilities, but he would also provide perhaps the best chance of protection these men would have. He sighed and met Lee's gaze. "Guard duty is hardly my specialty, but I'll do my best."

Lee nodded and turned away. Time to apprise the admiral of what had happened here. Another man lost, and another man down… The news was not good. Lee wondered how long before this thing struck again… And would they be able to prevent her attack?