Vexation
The Captain arrived in sick bay under his own slow steam with Patterson, Nelson, and Sharkey escorting him rather solicitously but trying not to intrude too much on his pride and dignity while they were at it.
Doc looked at all the men crowding his sick bay and sighed. The Captain had been gone a lot longer than they had expected and the guys were concerned, wanted their chance to contribute but they had extracted him and now Doc needed to give him a check.
"All right everyone, the Skipper's going to strip down here and I don't think he needs this much of an audience. My thanks for getting him here."
Crane gave a rueful smile to his extraction team but had his own say. "I'm here to check on the shore detail casualties, Doc. I'd prefer to do that fully clothed if you don't mind."
Doc straightened up in slight surprise. He realized he had been looking at the situation from only one angle. Of course they had all been worrying about the Captain and his condition since he had been left ashore alone but the Captain, being alone without communications, had been worrying about his injured men. Although he was back aboard with the mission objectives completed he was not yet ready to stand down.
"They're fine, sir. Now if you would please … "
"I require a full report, Doctor." The Captain might be exhausted, hungry, thirsty, grey faced and weak from overexertion but his objective for coming to sick bay was very much as a CO needing report from his CMO.
Doc looked over at the Admiral looking like he might need a bit of support but Nelson gave a slight tilt of his head to show his support of his Captain.
Doc turned to Patterson and Sharkey, "Thank you, men. You may carry on." The two men took their dismissal in good grace and started to turn away but the Captain turned and thanked them before they got out the door.
As he turned back to Doc, Crane swayed slightly as his weary body overcompensated on the pivot but he straightened himself up, looked around to find a chair, wearily sank into the closest one then looked up expectantly at Doc. "Go ahead, Doctor."
"Alright, Captain now it really is your turn. Doc turned toward the exam table where a johnny gown and drape sheet were waiting. Crane sighed and pulled his tee shirt over his head and Doc started his physical assessment.
A while later he knew the Captain was exhausted, dehydrated, and needed nutrition desperately. He was bruised and sore, stiff and very uncomfortable but had sustained no serious injury. He had already downed a good bit of water during Doc's examination and was now slowly working on a bottle of Gatorade while resting in standard Fowlers position on the exam table. He was wrapped in blankets to combat the chill he had taken lying on the damp sand.
Crane had his head resting back and his eyes closed but he was awake. Doc considered the need and the fatigue and headed off to talk to Cookie.
"I need something for the Captain that is fast to make, fast to consume, with some sugar, fat, and protein. No caffeine he needs to sleep. Something the Captain can stomach when he is too exhausted to think straight or eat a proper meal."
Cookie, who had been anticipating a request like this since they knew the Skipper was on his own without provisions, had a ready suggestion. "I was thinking maybe a strawberry milk shake, Doc? That would get nutrients into him pretty quick."
Doc thought about it. "Yes, that sounds just the ticket. A meal in a glass." He smiled at Cookie.
"I'll have it down to sick bay in a jiffy, sir. And knowing the Skipper, sir if he needs a hot drink to warm him up after the shake maybe some herbal tea or warm milk with vanilla."
Doc smiled to himself as he walked back to sick bay thinking Cookie knew their Skipper well, he was often chilly simply because he had so little body fat.
"Sparks get me Vice Admiral Johnson and pipe it through to my cabin."
"Aye, sir."
Nelson needed to give Johnson some information and get some in return. Just what had they been researching at the facility that ended up with the some of the research team and the military liaison dead and a heavy backpack sitting in a secure locker here on Seaview?
"Bill, what were they researching there?"
"Not something you need to know, Harry."
"Wrong. I have three men who returned from a simple resupply mission in less than stellar condition, an unfriendly sub we had to play hide and seek with and a packsack containing who-knows-what locked up here on my boat. I think I need to know why."
Johnson talked for a while explaining some things to Nelson.
After he was done saying his piece Nelson was silenced. He was relieved that other than handing off the backpack their involvement was over. He was, however, angry he hadn't known what the research station was doing. Angry he had blithely thought the resupply was a nice activity for his command team. Angry that it had been a riskier endeavour than he had been made privy to. Now that he knew it made him even angrier with Lee for going back alone. Not a logical response but a real one.
Once Crane had gotten some of Cookie's concoctions into his system Doc released him to quarters for twenty-four hours to be followed by a reassessment. Meanwhile Bill, at the Skipper's insistence, had fetched a clean uniform for him for the walk back to officer's country and stood ready to assist Crane with a shower before he got dressed.
Nelson stepped around the edge of the door looking into sick bay. Lee's hair was a mess of damp curls straight from the shower. He was getting dressed in a clean uniform. Doc was back at Chip's bedside checking the IV. Suddenly all the worry, the fear, and mental anguish came to a head at the sight of his two senior officers in sick bay and he felt a surge of anger. These men could so easily have been lost for good.
"Captain Crane report to my cabin as soon as you are done here."
Lee looked up in surprise at the brittleness of the Admiral's tone of voice and a slight furrow formed on his brow. So it was to be now. "Aye, sir."
Doc straightened up and looking at the Admiral simply stated. "I have put him on quarters, sir. Captain Crane needs to report to his own cabin for rest."
"I won't keep him long. He can rest after." The tone of Nelson's voice had definitely hardened and brooked no argument.
Doc glanced at the grey-faced Captain and continued to advocate for his weary patient. "With all due respect, sir the Captain needs to stand down for at least twenty-four hours."
"And he may … after reporting to my cabin." The Admiral was struggling hard now to contain the frustrated anger spawned by his earlier worry and fear but it only showed in the tension of his shoulders and the cold edge to his voice.
Doc looked at Crane and gave him a small apologetic look as if to say 'I tried'. Crane gave him an almost imperceptible nod and looked to the Admiral.
"Aye, sir."
The Admiral left and Doc turned to the Captain. "What was that about?"
"I'm in for it, Doc." Crane sighed heavily. "He'll want to ream me out and I do deserve it."
"I can't imagine that, Captain. I thought the mission was a success."
"It was. That doesn't mean he's happy with me."
The Captain finished fumbling with the buttons on his cuffs and moved on to tying his tie, attempting the knot carefully with slightly trembling hands. Doc stepped in to help. Might as well have the Captain as ship shape as possible for the fray. Finally Doc held the open neck of Crane's green sweater in two hands. The Captain gave a wry smile of thanks turned his back to Doc with his arms down in the putting-on position and slid his hands down into the sleeves as Doc hiked the sweater up and over his shoulders. Tidy and warm at least.
Doc's CO headed out of sick bay as armed for battle as Doc could make him.
Patterson was off duty but tinkering at the wiring access panel in officer's country. He had purposely stationed himself here because he knew what happened after the Admiral worked himself up with worry and then the worry disappeared. It left the Admiral angry at the object of that worry. It was usually the Skipper that had to diffuse that anger and as far as Pat could tell it was always really hard on the Skipper. Not that the Skipper ever said anything but his body language gave it away sometimes.
Right now the Skipper was exhausted, Pat knew because he had gone with the Chief and the Admiral to get him. He had helped the Skipper get into the zodiac where he had collapsed like a deflated balloon. The Skipper didn't say no to some steadying hands to climb out of the zodiac onto Seaview's deck either. The Skipper wasn't one to accept personal help readily.
When he heard the dragging steps of the Skipper's oxfords coming down the passageway he glanced up to take a quick look. The Skipper had stopped facing the door to the Admiral's quarters. He was standing, well sagging really, looking down at the deck. He took a deep breath in as if inhaling courage. Then he lifted his head, squared his shoulders and knocked on the door. After a pause he opened the door and went in. Patterson grimaced to himself. He had been afraid of that. The Skipper looked like he was stepping into the lion's den.
Crane closed the cabin door behind him and straightened to attention. "Reporting as ordered, sir."
Nelson seeing the rigid posture knew Crane had read his tone of voice back in sick bay correctly. He slapped the folder of reports in his hand down onto his desk, outward sign of his inner turmoil. He was now more than ready to vent his frustrations on the man responsible for them.
"Captain Crane what were you thinking? What gave you the right to go back there on your own?" He had intended to let Lee know how angry he was that he went back alone, how worried for his wellbeing he had been, but now that he was letting some of the anger out it was quickly overwhelming the dykes and washing through the room like a tsunami.
"No excuses, sir."
"I don't want to hear 'no excuses', I want an explanation."
"And it better be good." Crane tried to lighten the tone of the situation but got it wrong. The Admiral hadn't blown off enough steam yet for flippancy to mitigate the emotion.
"Dammit, Commander this is not a joke." Nelson smacked his hand on the desk.
Crane flinched internally. Commander! The Admiral was really ticked when he addressed him by rank. In full cry now, Nelson rose from his chair and rounded the desk to confront the other man. The force of his fury buffeted Crane like a storm gust.
Crane fought to not take a step back and actually betrayed himself by blinking rapidly a couple of times but stood stock-still looking over Nelson's shoulder as he absorbed that wrath. He would have to suck it up. He'd known this was coming from the moment he turned back to get the pack.
"You should have returned to the boat with the men under your command, made sure they were safe and tended to. But no, you left them there and went back, on you own. You did not wait for their safe extraction or for reinforcements did you Commander?" Nelson was pacing now, back and forth, back and forth.
Crane remained firmly at attention but he allowed his eyes to follow the Admiral's progress but shifted them forward again instantly when the Admiral turned back toward him. That had been a question, best to answer it.
"No, sir."
"Commander you are the commanding officer of this vessel. You know that you are too valuable to be put at risk with no backup."
Nelson was back to pacing. The volcano was fuming, the initial eruption past, but still with plenty of noxious steam to vent. "What on earth were you thinking?" Nelson turned toward Crane. "Answer me and I don't want any of your 'no excuses' do you understand?"
"Understood, sir." Crane snapped out briskly. "I did not want to wait, sir."
Nelson took a couple of paces to close the distance and stood once more directly in front of Crane looking up at the taller man but brandishing all the authority in this situation. "How do you think your men feel knowing you left them injured and alone to fend for themselves?"
That was a harsh blow and true. Crane felt that one as it cut deeply like a lash. He had left them injured and alone.
"No excuses, sir."
At that 'no excuses' Nelson drew himself up to his full height in rage. "What possible justification can you offer for that dereliction?" He spat out.
Another extremely accurate blow that left the Captain mentally reeling. Dereliction! That was harsh.
Crane knew he was going to say it. Knew it would rile the Admiral even more but he'd had about enough of this day. It had been going on for two days or more; the fatigue was debilitating. He had taken more than enough physically and mentally. Now he was being flayed at the hands of his best friend and he found his own anger rising. The Admiral needed to vent his worry, it was a given, his pattern. Crane had known this rebuke would come, but honestly enough already. Say the words on the tip of his tongue and there would be hell to pay, but another day. He'd had enough of today. This would end it. "Mission accomplished … Sir!" The exaggerated pause drove the response home.
Nelson stepped back as if he had been struck a physical blow. His face twisted with conflicting emotions. He raised his hand and Crane thought he was about to be decked in addition to the emotional battering but shaking in fury Nelson pointed a finger at his cabin door. He sputtered, "Get out!"
"Aye, sir." Crane spun neatly and almost lost it before he compensated for the dizziness, gathered his wounded pride and dug deep to find some energy to make his sore and weary body walk out that door with whatever shreds of dignity he could muster.
Patterson was still tinkering at the access panel when the Skipper exited the Admiral's cabin. He hadn't heard the words but he sure had heard the shouts.
The Skipper walked out all stiff and straight like he was on the parade ground as he closed the door. He stood for a second then seemed to wilt as he sighed audibly. His shoulders sagged and he rubbed his hand over his head as he took a step to the side to lean back against the bulkhead beside the cabin door. Then dropping his hand to his side he tipped his head back to rest on the bulkhead his eyes closing. The Skipper looked like he didn't have any strength left. He looked solitary and thrashed.
Patterson was by his side in a flash. "Skipper?" He looked at the Skipper's face. "Sir, are you okay?"
The Skipper started and lifted his head abruptly embarrassed at having his discomfiture witnessed, especially by a crewman up here in officer's country. "Oh … I'm fine, Patterson."
At that Patterson knew he wasn't. "Sir you look done in. Can I see you to your cabin?" Patterson shifted and lifted his arm as if to direct the Skipper that way.
The Skipper, trying to pull himself together, hesitated thinking for a moment about what he wanted. He was too riled up now to rest. Some of the Admiral's comments had really hit home and he wasn't too proud of himself. Especially for his last shot. He knew before he said it that would aggravate, make things worse.
"Ah, no thanks … I'm fine … I think I'll … ah … just … ah … go and check on Mr. Morton again." Dammit, he thought, he was physically shaking now too. He peeled himself off the bulkhead and swayed slightly overcompensating.
"Right, sir." Patterson was solicitous without being patronizing. "Well I was just on my way to check on Ski so we're both going the same direction." Patterson knew Ski was on quarters but that might just escape the Skipper's notice he looked so frazzled and done in.
Crane glanced across at Patterson knowing full well that Patterson was going to see him safely into some haven. He took comfort in Patterson's understated caring. He sure could use a tiny bit of comfort right now. He slowly and carefully walked beside Patterson letting himself be ushered along to where he really wanted to be … at Chip's side.