"Psst. Hey, Chief, you awake?"

Chief Petty Officer Francis Sharkey slowly opened his eyes in time to see two men in bell-bottom jeans and blue chambray shirts clandestinely slipping past the DO NOT DISTURB sign posted on the door of his hospital room. “Kowalski, is that you?"

Senior Rating Walter Kowalski—six-foot, square-jawed, and grinning like a Cheshire cat—quietly shut the door and glided to Sharkey's side, silent in white deck shoes. "How ya feelin', Chief?" he asked, cheerful tenor belying the worry in his brown eyes.

Sharkey shrugged as best as he could while lying flat on his back with one white-plastered leg suspended by a traction system. "I'm fine—a lousy broken leg ain't gonna hold me down for long." He shifted slightly in an attempt to find a comfortable position, but succeeded only in spilling blanket and pillows onto the floor.

The second visitor, Doug Patterson, hiked up the knees of his own jeans and reached for the pillows. "Take it easy there, Chief," he said, fluffing each one before returning it to the bed. "That's a pretty bad break. You were in shock for a whole day."

Rearranging the pillows so that he could more easily see his visitors, Sharkey settled himself back and waved a lazy hand. "Hey, I'm fine. Doc says I'll be out of here in a couple days; be back aboard Seaview before you goldbricks even miss me."

"Sure you will, Chief," the other men agreed in unison. They exchanged a look, grinned, then Kowalski perched one hip on the edge of the bed. “It’s not like we miss you now,” he went on, innocently. “Chief Jones is filling in so well, we didn’t even notice you were gone.

Gimlet eyes somewhat vague with pain-killers, narrowed. "So… how's my …uh...replacement doing? The new COB giving you guys any trouble?"

Patterson circled the high hospital bed until he faced Kowalski, bracketing the Chief between them. His long, naturally dolorous features grew, if possible, more solemn. "Curly? Nah. Compared to you, he's a real pussycat." He leaned closer until his lips were only inches from Sharkey’s left ear. “Two hundred fifty pounds of big… mean… pussycat."

"Hey, that's wild, man!" Kowalski, who had been interestedly reading the signatures, well-wishes, and assorted graffiti scribbled across Sharkey's cast, let out a long whistle and tapped one particularly long passage near the knee. His sharp, down-turned nose twitched humorously. "Look here, Pat. This has to be the kinkiest thing I've ever heard!"

Ignoring the Chief’s trailing arm, Patterson eased himself onto the bed, bending closer to his best friend’s pointing finger. "What've you got, Ski?"

"It's not what I got," the younger man smirked. "It's what the Chief's gonna get! Look at that!"

Patterson followed the other's pointing finger. "There was a young lady from..." he read, then stopped. "Oh wow! I gotta tell my wife about that one!"

Broad features reddened in a wave from neck to receding hairline. "Come on, you guys! That's only Lola's way of saying...uh... get well quick."

Kowalski whistled again. "With Incentive like that, I'd get well yesterday"

"I'm working on it, kid, I'm working on It!"

He sounded so earnest that Kowalski burst out laughing, "l'lI bet you are!" Abandoning the graffittied cast, he twisted broad shoulders and leaned backward until he could recline, sharing a glaring Sharkey’s pillow. "Hey, Chief."

"Hey, what?" the older man asked, elbowing him over a few inches. He glanced from one visitor to the other, eyes again narrowing under beetled brows. "You're up to something, Kowalski. I can smell it. What's goin' on?"

Kowalski crossed his legs comfortably at ankle. "I've got some dope on Seaview's new skipper."

"You what?!" Sharkey sat up a little straighter, grimaced, and flopped back onto his pillow. He glanced from one man to the other, blinking rapidly "You guys are putting me on, right?"

"Straight dope, Chief," Pat said, leaning closer with a distinctly conspiratorial air. "Riley's dating this chick In Personnel, and..."

"And we got...kind of an… unofficial copy of the new Captain's security file," Kowalski finished in a rush.

this time Sharkey succeeded in sitting straight up, the rapid jerk tossing him hard into Patterson’s chin. "Are you guys crazy?! That information's supposed to be confidential! I'll bet it's even got a Top Secret classification, don't It?"

Kowalski wiggled uncomfortably. “Well...yeah. but it’s not like Pat and I don’t have Top Secret clearance, after all."

"Do you two screwballs know the penalty for digging up that kind of info without authorization?" the COB demanded. He waved his hands wildly, aptly Illustrating the dire fate In store for anyone so foolish as to take the chance and causing Patterson to retreat several inches, still rubbing his chin.

"Well, If you don't want to know about the new skipper..." he began, edging off the bed.

Abruptly abandoning his gesticulation, Sharkey grasped his arm. "Of course, I want to know, you idiot! Anyone who's gonna try and take over Seaview from Captain Phillips—"

"May he rest in peace," Patterson muttered devoutly, crossing himself.

"—uh, right... well, I wanna know about him, that's all."

Kowalski peered around the room as though every shadow conceal a camera, then pulled several tattered sheets of paper from one pocket and spread it over the invalid’s chest. "Check this out, chief. His name's Lee Crane and he's supposed to be some kind of hotshot boy wonder—Annapolis, in and out of Naval Intelligence, that sort of thing."

"What are you talking about, Ski?" Sharkey growled, making an unsuccessful snatch at one faded photocopy. “They don’t give spies their own sub.”

"They did this time," Patterson broke in, picking up the largest paper. "This guy gets out of Annapolis, hops around between ONI and sub duty, then gets his own command. Lieutenant Commander before he even hits three-oh."

"Holy cats!" Sharkey shuddered. "An’ how old is he now?” Patterson turned the paper around until he could read it for himself; he shuddered again, accent growing thick with the sounds of old Brooklyn. “That's just what we need –some hot dog kid running Seaview into the ground. You guys know the saying about green officers and matches? And us ridin' around in the biggest match this old Earth's ever seen."

"Don't jump to conclusions, Chief," Patterson admonished, waving a finger under Sharkey’s sharp nose. "Just because he made full Commander young doesn't mean he doesn't have experience. After all, that first cruise went okay."

"He's a month younger than me," Kowalski grumbled, disgusted.

Sharkey patted his cheek. "And Kowalski's barely shaving as it is," he gibed. "Soft as a baby's behind."

"Oh, come on, Chief!" Joshed out of his snit, Ski grinned at the good-natured exaggeration. "Just because you're gettin' old and decrepit—"

"Old! I'll show you old, sailor..." Sharkey made a grab for Kowalski's throat, but was hampered by the heavy cast on his leg.

The senior rating slid off the bed and danced gracefully out of range. "Slowing down a bit. Chief?" he taunted from several feet away.

"So help me, Ski..." Sharkey waved a pillow threateningly. "When I get my hands on you..."

"Shhh! Quiet, you twol" Patterson hushed them, both hands raised in alarm. "If that big nurse catches us again, we're goners." They all froze, listening intently for the tread of heavy feet, but heard nothing more threatening then a passing wheelchair.

"All right, all right." Sharkey said after a moment. He allowed Patterson to replace a newly-scrunched pillow. "So, this kid's gonna captain Seaview, huh? Well, it is the Admiral's decision, ya know."

"I don't like it, Chief," Kowalski told him, scuffing the toe of his deckshoe across the highly-polished floor. "There ain't no way this Crane guy is gonna take over for the old Skipper. Not in my book.”

"That's the way we all feel about it, Chief," Patterson added. "Not that the Admiral's gonna listen to us. If Captain Phillips was still alive..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's not talk about Captain Phillips, okay?" Sharkey interrupted curtly, blowing out his cheeks.

"Sure, Chief," Patterson patted his arm sympathetically. "We understand. Captain Phillips only had Seaview a year and a half, but he was a plank owner, just like us."

Momentarily lost in thought, Sharkey plucked at a thread on the coverlet, thin lips pursed. He was silent so long that Kowalski began to fidget. "Don't you wanna know what else we got on this guy?" he asked at last, forgetting caution and returning to his seat on the bed.

Sharkey looked up. "You mean there's more?"

"Sure. For example, did you know," Kowalski asked, knowing that Sharkey didn't, "that this Crane went to the Academy with our very own Exec?"

The older man pricked up his ears. "Mr. Morton knows the new captain?"

"Yep." Kowalski smiled, smug in his superior knowledge. "Seems they were in the same year—roommates even. Not the same degree, though," he added after a moment. “The Exec is an engineer, ya know.”

"I heard," Pat interrupted, "that's where the Admiral first met him—the XO, I mean. Mebbe he met this Crane there, an’ he's been keeping him in mind to captain Seaview ever since."

The older man glanced from one rating to the other again, red again climbing in his cheeks, green eyes flashing indignantly. "That's a crock of bull and you know it!” “Everybody knows Captain Phillips wuz the Admiral’s first and only choice for Seaview. He would'a never replaced the Skipper in this lifetime.” Realizing what he’d just said, Sharkey broke off, then continued quietly, “Them two, they were friends since before the last war."

"Take it easy, Chief!" Pat soothed him again. "I only heard it—a rumor, you know?"

Sharkey snorted, annoyed. "A pretty stupid one. If ya want my opinion."

Deciding it was time to recapture control of the discussion, Kowalski slapped his own knee loud enough to get attention. "Anyway, that's when his records just...stop."

"Stop?" Sharkey asked.

"Yeah—stop." Kowalski bent close again; in contrast to the Chief’s New York accent, his own was tinged with the sound of Milwaukee and his Polish second generation parents. "They say this guy started doing spy stuff. Maybe even assassinations."

"Assassinations?" Sharkey echoed Incredulously.

Kowalski nodded. "Or worse."

Sharkey absorbed this for nearly a minute before exploding. "I apologize, Patterson. Kowalski's got the stupidest rumor I've ever heard."

"But Chief..." Kowalski began.

Sharkey cut him off with a curt gesture. "I swear," Sharkey ranted, warming to his subject, "if you guys repeat one word—one word—of all this, I'll—"

There came a sharp rap on the door heralding the arrival of Admiral Harriman Nelson, Seaview’s creator and head of scientific missions. Without waiting for permission, he opened the door and strolled into the hospital room, the light glinting from the three stars pinned to his collar and the several ribbons pinned to the breast of his dress jacket. "Chief? I just stopped by to..." He stopped midstep upon spying Kowalski and Patterson, who'd leaped to their feet guiltily. " Aren't you two supposed to be dockside right now?"

"We ... uh ... were just leaving, Sir." Kowalski sputtered, edging toward the door. "Weren't we, Pat?"

"Yes, Sir, that's right. Just leaving," Patterson agreed quickly, circling both bed and admiral in three long strides.

If Nelson noticed the scraps of paper hastily shoved Into Kowalski's pocket, he made no mention. "Don't leave on my account, gentlemen," he said dryly, tone making it perfectly clear the otherwise was true.

"No, Sir." Ski essayed a weak smile. “We really do have to go anyway. There's this big nurse wailing to scuttle our tails." He waved at Sharkey. "We'll see you soon, Chief. Mind the nurses."

"l never mind the nurses," Sharkey leered amiably.

"Maybe, but they sure mind you!" Then with a laugh, Kowalski and Patterson were gone, again carefully checking the corridors before stepping out.

Nelson watched then leave with a bemused if resigned air. "l have a feeling I don't want to know."

"No, Sir, you don't," Sharkey agreed, heartfelt. He gestured to one of the straight-backed chairs along the wall. "Sit down, Admiral. It'll be nice to have some intelligent company for a change."

Nelson tipped his red head graciously. "I'll take that as a complement, Chief." He moved a chair closer to the bed before settling into it heavily. He was of medium height and sturdy build, only his craggy features betraying that he was in his middle fifties.  "It feels good to sit down. I've been dealing with the Presidential advisory committee all morning."

"That's tough," Sharkey said sympathetically. "once those guys start talking that bureaucratic crap—well, they just don't wanna let go, that's all." He paused. "Have they come up with anything new on Captain Phillips' death yet?"

"They're 'Investigating' the matter." Nelson ran a weary hand across his face then down onto the back of his neck. There was sadness in his sapphire blue eyes reflecting how deeply he’d been affected by the loss of one of his best friends, though his deep voice was as neutral as possible.  "They hope to have more information later in the week." He changed the subject. "How are you feeling, Chief? In much pain?"

"No, Sir, not much. They got me on some kind’a pill that handles all that." He shrugged, both palms coming up. "I'm more bored than anything else. I'm not a man who likes ta lay around all day, know what I mean?"

"How long before you're back on your feet?" Nelson asked, crossing his knees.

Sharkey shrugged again, "I'm in this cast another six to eight weeks, then.. .who knows? The sooner the better as far as I 'm concerned."

"Chief Jones feels the same way, I suspect," Nelson said, laughing. "He misses his own projects dockside. Said if he wanted to run around with a bunch of juveniles, he’d have gotten married."

An uncomfortable silence descended, an unusual occurrence between the two old friends. "So, Sir," Sharkey began, then cleared his throat. "l understand you've found a replacement skipper for Seaview. Permanent, I mean."

"That's some grapevine you've got there, Chief," Nelson remarked, honestly impressed. "l only received the authorization yesterday. I don't even have the final paperwork on his appointment, yet."

"l'm sure you’ll get it, Sir," Sharkey ventured.

"Oh, I will. I've been aware of the career of Lee Crane for sometime now." Nelson rose, stretching aching back muscles. "I wonder If there's any aspirin around here."

"Yes, Sir." Sharkey reached Into a drawer, withdrawing a tin of Excedrin. "Help yourself."

"Thanks." Nelson poured himself a drink from a nearby plastic pitcher and swallowed the tablets. "I want to examine some unusual seismological readings from the Arctic Circle blast but the Navy has something else lined up for us in the South Pacific.” He placed the glass onto a sidetable and sighed deeply. “If we didn’t need those Navy contracts for budgeting purposes, I’d tell them where to shove this next assignment.”

He glared at the innocent glass for a long moment until Sharkey again cleared his throat. "Uh, Sir?" he ventured hesitantly. “I was thinking...." He resumed his assault on the unraveling thread until his commander glanced up.

"Come on, Sharkey, spit It out," he prodded. The writing on the cast caught his eye and he leaned closer. “’There was a young—‘ Hmmm.”

"Yes, Sir." The thread snapped and Sharkey tossed it away. "l...uh... I was just thinking about this new captain."

"And?"

"And, well, Sir, are you absolutely certain that this kid is right for Seaview?" the Chief blurted. "I mean, considering what he used to do and all...."

Nelson peered at him suspiciously. "This 'kid', eh?" he interrupted. "And what do you know about what he used to do, Francis?"

Sharkey shifted uncomfortably. "Oh, nothing much, Sir, but do you really want an assassin to skipper your boat?"

Taken off guard, Nelson frankly gaped. "A what?"

"It's not that I have anything against a guy doin' his duty," Sharkey hurried to explain, both hands wide, expression placating. "I had ta do a lot of stuff in the war myself, but—"

"Chief," Nelson interrupted, raising a hand and cutting off the rush of words midstream. "What are you talking about? Lee Crane was never a government assassin."

"I suppose he wasn't no spy, neither," Sharkey retorted.

Nelson threw up his hands, "Where you get these notions... It positively boggles the mind." He  abandoned the hard chair, stretched again and stepped closer to the bed. "Chief, Commander Crane is not an assassin. "Yes," he raised a peremptory hand, "and I don't know how you found out, but he did do a lot of work for Naval Intelligence. That's not quite the same thing."

"No, Sir."

"And he's no younger than our Exec," Nelson pointed out.

"No, Sir," Sharkey conceded again, reluctant to point out that Chip Morton was exceedingly young for his position as well. He shifted his gaze to a point six inches over Nelson's right shoulder and held it there, finding a water stain on the wallpaper an irresistible study.

Recognizing the signs, Nelson rolled his eyes. "You...uh...don't approve, I see."

"Admiral, it's not my place to—"

Nelson tapped the younger man’s shoulder. "Chief, I'm asking for your opinion."

Sharkey closed his mouth with a snap and sat regarding his superior with thoughtful eyes. "How long we known each other, Admiral? A long time, right?"

Nelson nodded slowly, "A long time, indeed, ' he agreed.

"We go back a long ways, Admiral, through more than one war, even, " Sharkey continued, not turning away.

"Yes," Nelson replied solemnly. He waited.

Sharkey smiled, the light of sudden decision in his face. "In all that time, Sir, you ain't never steered me wrong, yet. If you say this kid…uh, I mean, Commander Crane is gonna do okay as skipper of Seaview, well, Sir, that's jake with me."

Nelson listened to this little speech with a sober expression save for the sparkle in his bright blue eyes. "I'm glad to hear you say that, Chief," he teased. "I hope you'll pass on that approval to Patterson and Kowalski the next time you see them."

"Yes, Sir, I will." He broke off, realizing he had betrayed himself. "I mean, if it ever comes up."

Nelson nodded solemnly. "Off course. If it ever comes up."

A heavyset woman in a nurse's uniform poked her head around the door jamb. "Are you Admiral Harriman Nelson?"

Nelson politely rose. "Yes?"

The woman observed him a long moment, obviously liking what she saw for she affected a smile. "There's a message for you, Admiral," She batted thickly mascara'd lashes. "You're wanted back at the Institute right away"

"Thank you." Nelson acknowledged, waiting until she’d disappeared before turning back to the bed. "I wonder if she lifts weights..." he muttered, making a little moue. “The advisory committee must be getting ready to resume session." He ran a hand through his thick red hair, finger-combing it back into place. "Round two coming up."

"I suppose so, Sir."

"Get some rest, Sharkey." Nelson offered his friend a firm grip. "I probably won't be seeing you again before we shove off. I'm leaving as soon as ... the 'kid' reports aboard."

Sharkey smiled sheepishly. "Uh...Admiral, I'd appreciate it if you didn't happen to mention—"

"Not a word, Chief." Nelson looked at his watch. “I'd better go. When you're cleared for light duty, report to LaBeck over in the main building. I've arranged for you to work your way back to sea duty slowly."

"Yes, Sir." Sharkey slapped his cast lightly. "It won't be long, I'm sure. And...good luck, Sir."

"Thanks. I'm sure I'll need it." With a final smile, Nelson was gone, leaving a very bored, very cranky, and very anxious CPO behind. "I gotta get back on my feet soon," he muttered peevishly. "A review board, a new captain, and Kowalski on the loose. Yes, sir, I've a feeling they're gonna be needing me pretty quick."

So saying, he slowly drifted Into slumber, dreaming dreams of spies, duty ... and Lola.

finish