VOYAGE TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA

"It"

By Cindy D. Baker

PREQUELS:

"Of Dreams Unspoken"

…and…

"By Fates Ordained"

Any technical errors were strictly the fault of the author…

PROLOGUE

On a vast plot of land in Santa Barbara, California, adjacent to the Pacific Ocean, stands a state-of-the-art complex named the Nelson Institute of Marine Research. Personally financed and built by Harriman Nelson, a retired Admiral from the United States Navy, Nelson is an irrefutable scientific genius with a deep love of the oceans. Once infamous as the world's most eccentric inventor, Nelson's controversial reputation diminished over time as his "way out" theories proved to be quite the contrary, and advanced scientific knowledge not by years, but by decades, much to the abasement of his colleagues.

Housed in a secret lair under NIMR is Nelson's greatest triumph, SSRN Seaview. Built "in and for the future," this unique submarine has the greatest speed, depth, firepower, and maneuverability of any boat in the modern, sea-faring world. Once labeled "Nelson's Folly," Seaview is now respected, envied, and coveted by entities all over the world.

In charge of Nelson's pride and joy is Commander Lee Crane. Dark-eyed, dark-haired and handsome, Crane is the youngest man to ever captain a nuclear sub. Although serious and devoted to his duty as Seaview's commander, his suppressed sense of humor helps him to embrace and (usually) conquer any mission-or strange situation-assigned him and his crew. Willing to take risks, but not at the cost of innocent lives or his crew, Crane is loved and trusted by most who serve under above him.

After Crane, and next in Seaview's chain of command, is Lieutenant Commander Charles "Chip" Morton. With blond hair and blue eyes, Morton looks more like a surfer from his adopted state of California than the no-nonsense Executive Officer that he is. He, too, has earned the devotion of Seaview's crew. Although his stoic demeanor consistently keeps the men on their toes, he is always fair in judgment and punishment (even allowing the crew to get away with occasional shipboard shenanigans).

* * * * * * * * * *

It was a clear, crisp morning in Santa Barbara, California. The sky, a light blue; the sun, brilliant and already warming the hundreds of denizens bustling below.

Speeding through the employee parking lot of the Nelson Institute for Marine Research, the irritated blonde took a sharp turn into an empty slot, bringing her clunker of a sedan to a grinding halt. Stella O'Toole Glacier had looked forward to arriving early, but a morning traffic accident on the highway had trapped the marine biologist in her congested lane for over an hour.

Jumping out of her car, maroon briefcase in hand, Stella rushed for the side entrance of the Institute's main building, her waist-long, dirty-blonde hair flying behind her in a single braid. In her late twenties, pale complected, she was passably pretty, but only because she didn't wear make-up. On the thin side, Stella's usual choice of loose clothing hid what figure she had, but on this day, her undernourished frame was made even more unflattering by the dark green pants outfit she is wearing.

Halfway there, she abruptly hopped to a stop. Her right leg had gone forward but her black pump had stayed behind. "Damn," she muttered, wiggling her foot into the side-turned footwear. Her foot once more ensconced; she pulled open the thick, metal fire door, hurrying inside. Relieved to be finally arriving, Stella relaxed; her grim face replaced by a faint smile, her anger and frustration replaced by analytical thought and anticipation as each step brought her closer to the place she loved best-the laboratory.

A few minutes later, her identification verified at the internal security desk and having been waved through, Stella exited the elevator into the building's third sub-level where, for security and safety reasons, the research laboratories were situated.

"Hey, Stella!" comes a yell from down the corridor. Doctor Helen "Forbes" Forbotini, Stella's coworker, still had her hand on the doorknob of the lab she had just left. "I was getting worried. You haven't arrived after me since you started a year ago!" About five years older than Stella, Helen's warm welcoming smile, raven hair and dark complexion was in stark contrast to Stella's stern expression and fair coloration.

"I was stuck in traffic," she explained with an annoyed frown as Helen approached.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're all right. I have to go to supplies," she announced, passing her lab partner and waving the remnants of a broken beaker. "I'll be right back. Oh… and Stella," she added over her shoulder with a slight cringe. "Admiral Nelson wants to see you."

Stella felt her relaxed mood vanish and her lips tighten. "All right," she sighed with more annoyance than she intended. "I'll see him in a couple of minutes." She knew what Harry wanted-she had heard through the grapevine about his new underwater project, and she knew she was going to hate it.

At that same moment, entering the front door of the Nelson Institute was Seaview's captain, Lee Crane, and his Chief of the Boat, Francis E. Sharkey. The two officers had run into each other on the stairs coming in. Currently off-duty and still wearing civvies, both were on their way to Admiral Nelson's office to report in for work.

"You're sure you're feeling all right now, sir?" Sharkey asked, studying his superior with open concern. He was returning from several days shore leave while Crane, he knew, had just recovered from a severe bout of the influenza.

"Yes, Chief," Crane answered with patient reassurance. The Chief was famous for being a mother hen to his crew. "My cold is completely gone. I'm as fit as a fiddle and glad to be back on duty."

"That's good to hear, sir," Sharkey smiled with genuine relief. "Between the fever and your coughing, we were worried it had turned into pneumonia or something worse."

Meanwhile… in the laboratory three floors below, having slipped into her lab coat, Stella was getting her work set up for the day. Taking three bottles of chemicals from the nearby storage cabinet, she set them on the counter and turned to get more supplies when she felt an ominous tug at her wrist. Fearing what it was, Stella spun about, but it was too late. Her sleeve had caught one of the containers and all three were now tumbling over the edge of the counter. Hitting the floor together, the bottles erupted with a loud crack, immediately followed by a bright swoosh before bursting into a firewall of flames.

Stunned, but for only a split-second, Stella jogged to the doorway grabbing the extinguisher hanging on the wall. Next aiming, she pulled the trigger, her face breaking into surprise and fear when, instead of ejecting foam, all the canister did was spit. Looking at the fire, Stella's surprise turned into annoyance. "Oh, hell," she muttered as she headed for the door, dropping the useless canister on the counter on her way out. "This is all I need."

Out in the hallway, she snatched up the emergency telephone located next to the lab's door. "Fire in A-3. Repeat, fire in Lab A-3," she announced, her voice clear and calm, hiding her alarm. Throwing the phone onto its hook, she jogged back to the lab and to the supply closet at the far end of the room where she knew a second fire extinguisher was located.

-/-/-

"Repeat, fire in Lab A-3," the feminine voice announced over Crane and Sharkey's head as they waited at the elevator bay.

"Come on, Sharkey," Crane urged, already sprinting towards the stairwell. "Maybe we can help."

Behind him, the Chief raised a dubious eyebrow. He heard the excitement in Crane's voice and wondered if the captain was sincere about helping; or because he had been in stuck in bed for three weeks, just needed an adrenaline rush! Shrugging over the moot point, Sharkey doggedly followed.

Charging through the doors onto sub-level three, Crane grabbed the red extinguisher off the wall next to the stairwell, continuing into A-3 with Sharkey close beside him. There, both pulled up short.

"Jesus!" Sharkey exclaimed, airing his alarm for both of them.

The fire, its flames stretching towards the ceiling, was the width of the ten-foot work counter and spreading fast despite the gallant efforts of the female lab technician. Crane's naval training instantly kicked in. Dropping the extinguisher, he grabbed Stella by the shoulders, and swinging her away from the flames, shoved her into the arms of the startled Sharkey, shouting: "Get her out of here!"

"No, wait!" was all Stella got out before Sharkey did as he was ordered, forcibly dragging the protesting scientist out of the room.

Lee Crane, watching the foam from his canister hit the flames like a rowboat in a hurricane, had decided a long time ago during fire-fighting training that he didn't like fighting fires. Flames were dangerous, unpredictable animals, finicky about what touched them and quite painful if caught off-guard. He'd take a nice safe sub command any day.

Fearfully aware he was losing the battle, Lee concentrated harder, unaware of the fire crew's entrance behind him until the supervisor tapped him hard on the shoulder causing him to jump. Protected in their head-to-toe, silver flame-retardant suits and boots, the five-man crew were already flaring out and attacking the threat from all sides as their supervisor signaled Lee to leave, to which he was more than happy to comply.

Out in the corridor, Sharkey paced the lab's doorjamb checking on the progress, at the same time keeping a sharp ear out for the agitated scientist behind him. The woman, making no qualms about how furious she was at being rescued, had already tried twice to go back in.

But he needn't have worried. Resigned that the duty-happy chief wasn't about to let her pass, Stella's obstinately stewed several feet beyond him, her face red with anger, her hazel eyes blazing, her arms folded tightly.

As Crane exited the room, Sharkey stepped back, his eyes anxious. "How's it look, Skipper?"

"They're…" glancing behind Sharkey, Crane locked on the blonde and grinned; the grin growing wider as she approached them. "They'll have it taken care of in-" Crane never saw Stella's hand coming, but it hit hard and was dead on target.

"If I was incapable of handling a fire extinguisher, mister," she shouted. "I wouldn't have been in there! Remember that next time!" Whirling, Stella stormed away, leaving the two officers drop-jawed and Crane massaging his throbbing cheek.

In his office on the highest floor of the Institute, Admiral Harriman Nelson was deep into editing a report when a single knock at the door made him raise his head, but he never got the chance to answer as the livid Stella burst in.

"Stella, don't you ever wait for an answer?" he asked amused, at the same time, a little annoyed. Sometimes she took too much liberty with their relationship.

"Please, Uncle Harry, I'm busy," she said huffily. "Helen said you wanted to see me."

Leaning back in his chair, Nelson prepared himself for the explosion. "Doctor Glacier, you're going on assignment."

"Forget it!" she snapped, marching towards the door.

"You open that door," Nelson warned loud and clear, "and you're discharged!" The woman stopped dead in her tracks. "Now get back over here and sit down."

Wordlessly, Stella marched back to the desk, but remained standing, crossing her arms in protest.

Smiling, Nelson indicated the chair beside her. "I said sit!" This time it was an order.

Well acquainted with that tone, Stella, however reluctant, did as she was told.

"Now don't say a thing, not one word," he commanded, pointing his pencil at her," until I'm done talking, do you understand?" He paused, waiting for an argument, and knew from the tight look on her face that one wasn't forthcoming-at least not at this time-and continued. "As head of the Nelson Institute for Marine Research, I'm putting you in charge of a special marine project. In a nutshell, NIMR has built a new underwater research lab with a special salt water-resilient coating. It needs to be tested under the water," he playfully emphasized, "and I want you to be its lead scientist. As the lab is being tested, you and another scientist will be monitored for mental and physical endurance, etcetera, etcetera. While you're down there, you're to do as much research as you the two of you can handle."

"That it?" Stella asked, raising her chin.

"Yes."

"No." She stood, marching towards the door.

"And just why not, may I ask?"

Spinning, Stella returned to him, her expression soft, her tone honey-coated. "Uncle Harry, I can't leave now," she pleaded sweetly. "I've already got my work and my studies and-"

And Harriman Nelson wasn't fooled one bit. "Stella, for the past two years all you've done is study. You've got enough knowledge of the seas to put over two-thirds of the world's best oceanographers to shame. You've been working so hard these past few months some people would even say you're trying to work yourself to death."

"That's their opinion," she gruffed, intertwining her arms.

"I would very much like to see you work on this project. I honestly think you'd enjoy it."

"But I don't want to go!"

"THEN AS HEAD OF THE NELSON INSTITUTE-" Harry erupted, throwing his pencil to the desk, his face as red as his Irish-inherited hair. "-and your godfather, I will be forced to have you placed under psychiatric treatment!"

"For what?" she demanded, shocked and afraid.

"For attempted suicide by purposely running yourself into the ground!"

"That's a lie!" she countered fearfully. She was lying. More importantly, staring into his blue eyes, she knew Harry wasn't.

Seeing Stella blanch, Nelson knew he had won the war. "Stella, I've been watching you, we all have, for the past year." His tone softened as parental affection replaced his anger. "You never go out anywhere, you've been sleeping in the lab, and Helen says you haven't been eating. I know you're trying to forget, but I won't let you kill yourself to do it!"

"I am not trying to kill myself," she said, soft but insistent.

"Yes, you are! Just look at yourself! You look like you haven't seen the sun in months, and a scarecrow has more weight than you do! But it's going to stop right now, is that clear? So take your choice: Project Venus, or a psychiatrist. Which is it?"

Furiously tapping her foot, Stella stared at him then the ceiling.

"Well?" Harry asked, hiding his amusement, yet growing impatient. Since her daughter's death two years ago, the once reasonable Stella had developed an iron and very much defensive will.

Finally, she looked at him, her eyes ablaze. Harry knew that look, too. She didn't hate him, but he was pushing himself real close.

"All right, you win," she stated, "but this is the last time anyone tells me what to do!"

Watching her storm to the door, this time Harry didn't try to stop her. Instead, he grimaced, expecting the noise that was to come. He wasn't disappointed. Stella slammed his door with a loud bang.

Shaking his head, Nelson couldn't keep himself from laughing. He loved the girl dearly. She had strength in her that never ceased to amaze him, and he knew deep down inside she was as tenderhearted as they come. However, when she pulled this tough act on him, the man who had known her since birth, he just couldn't help himself.

-/-/-

Three months later, Harriman Nelson's newest prototype was integrated with his latest Project and lowered into position beneath the warm, salty waters of the Pacific Ocean. The prototype, patented as Nelson Mini-Lab 1, but fondly called "ML-1" by staff, was often compared to a beaker because of its unique design. Built of the same titanium alloy that hulled Seaview, ML-1 was about the size of a three-car garage but completely circular to allow bypassing water. The structure had a wide, flat base for stability with sides that bowed outward and upward several yards before contouring inward to form a narrow, teardrop-shaped tube that extended upwards several more yards. The tube was one of two escape hatches.

With safety factors of the utmost importance, the site chosen for the experimental lab was an atoll in chain of islands called the Line Islands. Located halfway between Hawaii and American Samoa, Palmyra Atoll was at the crossroads of the Equatorial Currents from the south, east, and sometimes west, making the islands a hotbed of coral and marine life. Here, the natural threats were most nominal, the paradise practically untouched, and as yet, undocumented.

Housed inside the cramped space of ML-1 was the research-gathering component of the facility. Dubbed "Project Venus" in its start-up stages, marine biologists Stella Glacier and Helen Forbotini had not only quickly adapted to their new home, but had begun their research with zeal, sending electronic reports to NIMR every several hours instead of days.

"Deep enough in the brine to test the endurance of the mini-lab and her scientists," Nelson had reassured his Board of Directors, "yet close enough to Palmyra so they would have land to go to in case of emergency.

"And," he added with a sly smile, "just so you know, Doctors Glacier and Forbotini won't be totally on their own. With permission of the owners, the Nature Conservancy will also have personnel stationed there to conduct research of their own."

At one time a United States territory, Line Islands had since reverted back to its original Hawaiian descendants. The family, concerned for Palmyra's environmental well being, had sought out Nelson for advice, and from there had developed a professional friendship.

Nelson had also implemented strict procedural guidelines for Venus' two scientists. Included among other things, the women were to maintain daily contact with NIMR, as well as with the Conservancy.

Lastly, due to the ever-changing environment of the ocean it was agreed upon by all personnel involved that because ML-1 and its experimental salt resilient coating was still in its testing stages, the initial outing for the mini-lab and Project Venus would be limited to four months.

Months which passed with relative ease….

# # # # # # # # # #

Alone in the vast Pacific Ocean, SSRN Seaview glided leisurely through the warm currents, her metallic hull glistening in the stunning sunlight.

A stopover on the island of Oahu for one of Nelson's business conferences had enabled the crew to take a much appreciated shore leave. Two days later the ocean-centered state of Hawaii now hours astern, the "gray lady" began her submersion. Inside her Control Room Seaview's commander peered forward through the periscope, watching the sea obliterate her tilting forward deck.

"Bow under," Lee Crane called out per procedure, his arms resting lazily on the scope handles. Circling aft, he watched the stern disappear. "Decks awash," he announced casually. A moment later, with Seaview's scopes safely under the waves, Crane flipped up the scope handles, pushing the retract button. With a soft hum, the instrument slid downward into its berth.

Jotting the information on his clipboard, Crane next headed to the plot table where Admiral Nelson, his blue eyes gleaming, was pointing out their destination to Seaview'sexecutive officer, Chip Morton.

"…So if this location works out," Nelson was saying, taping the map with a pencil, "then Project Saturn will be on its way to becoming a reality."

"Speaking of Saturn," asked Crane, dropping the clipboard onto its hook, "how long before the Venus scientists come up?"

"Two weeks to the day," Chip shot back, then winced with foreboding.

A mischievous look immediately came to Nelson's face, to which he gave a conspiring wink to Crane. "Correct, Mr. Morton. I didn't realize you were keeping such a close eye on things there."

"Oh? Didn't you know?" Crane joined in with a grin. "One of the scientists you shipped down there just happens to be a close friend of Chip's. A very close friend."

"They both are, Captain Crane," he corrected, dreading the ribbing he was going to get from this.

"Skipper," Patterson called from Sonar, "I'm getting a reading-."

"Admiral Nelson!" came Sparks' alarmed voice from the overhead intercom, "I've intercepted a distress signal from Project Venus."

In several quick, anxious strides, Nelson and Crane arrived beside Sparks in the Radio Shack while Morton veered to Sonar.

"Patch it through," ordered the Admiral, hiding his concern.

"What is it, Pat?" Morton asked Sonar, but Patterson never got the chance to answer as his and Morton's attentions were diverted to the P.A.'s broadcast:

"…repeat. This is Project Venus calling Nelson Institute. SOS…being torn apart by earthquake aftershocks."

Nelson paled slightly, but said nothing, instead listening intently.

Although her voice was steady, in the background the men could hear the dim groan of twisting metal, along with other noises they couldn't identify. "We'll hold out for as long as we can, then try to swim to the atoll. Do you read?"

"That's what I was going to tell you, Mr. Morton." Patterson whispered, pushing back his headphones. "I'm picking up readings of an earthquake."

"Mister Morton," Nelson shouted over his shoulder, "how close are we to Palmyra?"

"Close enough, sir," Chip shot back. "Keep us informed, Pat." Bolting forward, he didn't need to wait for the next order; he knew what it would be.

From radio alcove, Crane likewise followed, pausing only long enough to sound general alarm.

"Tell her Seaview's on her way," Nelson instructed his radioman. "Then call NIMR, find out what they know."

"Aye, sir," Sparks nodded, his hand already reaching for the switch to reply.

"Damn it!" Chip muttered, scooping up the protractor at the plotting table. "Of all the times for the Flying Sub to be down!"

"Helmsman," called Crane, approaching the ship control station, "set depth at two-zero-zero feet."

"Two-zero-zero feet, aye, sir," Lake at the helm repeated, resetting the gauge in front of him.

"Planes, fifteen degrees down-angle," Crane next ordered.

"Fifteen degrees down-angle, aye," replied the redheaded Bushnell from Lake's left.

"Drive her hard, Lee." Nelson urged, coming beside him, gripping the table's edge. Outwardly calm, his white knuckles revealed otherwise.

"Yes, sir. All ahead full," Crane called out.

"All ahead full," echoed steerage.

-/-/-

On the bottom of the ocean floor, another round of tremors shook Nelson's ML-1. Inside, doctors Stella Glacier and Helen Forbotini, their eyes wide, teeth clenched, held tight to the exposed support beams, listening to the ominous tones of the shifting structure; each wondering what would finally destroy it, the next impact wave or an aftershock? Aware of what could happen, both had changed into SCUBA suits in precaution, keeping the tanks and gear within hand-grabbing reach. As the tremor dissipated, each picked up where they had left off in the emergency evacuation procedure.

"Helen, I want you out of here!" Stella commanded, grabbing papers from the file cabinet and stuffing them into waterproof bags. "There's nothing more you can do!"

"I'm not going without you!" Helen shouted over her shoulder, storing away what lab equipment she could. Squatting to lock the lower door of the work counter, a cold drop hit her on top of the head. Her eyes shot upwards, widening with alarm at the water trickling in from the overhead seams. "Stella, she isn't going to hold up much longer!"

"I'm coming!" Stella snapped, running to the communications center. "I just want to find out where Seaview is. Now get out of here before this place collapses on both of us! And don't forget the raft!"

Hesitant to leave, Helen had no choice. Going to the locker where the emergency supplies were stored, the woman took out the bulky black raft. "Lord, please, don't let this be needed," she muttered.

Although Palmyra was less than a quarter mile away, right now the biggest danger was that which they were trying to protect-the reef. Although fragile, the coral was razor sharp. They could swim or raft past it but only at the right moment; otherwise, the shock waves would slam them into the coral, cutting them to ribbons. Nor could they expect help from the Nature Conservancy, not with the tremendous waves that were now pummeling the small island.

Gearing up with the last of her diving equipment, Helen secured the heavy black bundle to her waist, then stepped to the south escape hatch. Pausing, the biologist gave a long solemn, look around, knowing it could be the last time she ever saw the place. Her lips pursed, she peered over at Stella. Her coworker was urgently flipping switches and tuning a dial. "Don't stay too long," she commanded to the back of Stella's emphatically nodding head. Helen then entered the closet-size airlock. Seconds later, she was away.

"Seaview," Stella repeated into the microphone, "this is Venus, what is your ETA? Over." Waiting for an answer, she gave a sly look across her shoulder at the escape hatch. Satisfied that Helen was gone, she made her way to a tan filing cabinet in the corner where she took out a brown, palm-size item, carefully cushioning it in plastic wrapping.

Outside, Helen's apprehension grew as the ocean around her once more became tumultuous from the latest aftershock. Hugging a bottom rock to keep from being washed into deeper waters, she debated on what their chances would be should they attempt to make the island. Having no idea where Nelson and Seaview was, she preferred to try, but Stella had insisted they stay in the immediate vicinity, that way they'd be easier to find. If they find us at all, she thought, peering at her oxygen gauge. Sweat broke out on her face. She knew she could hold out for a little while with her oxygen tank, but if they waited much longer, she and Stella might not have even enough air to swim to the atoll-or the surface.

-/-/-

Nearing the waters of the mini-lab's coordinates, every man in the Control Room tensed up. Palmyra, although rich with marine life, had islets all around and was not the easiest place to maneuver a nuclear sub. However, it had been the best place for the experiment. Three sides of the shoreline dropped a dramatic hundred-feet within a few yards. However, the West Side extended out like an arm for over three-thousand yards. It was here, 120 feet down on a platform of hard sand that connected the Line Island and their islets, that the mini-lab was placed. Close enough for the biologists to dive to the reef, far enough beyond the reef so as not to disturb the coral itself, yet deep enough for Seaview to get close without running aground.

Contacting NIMR after Stella's initial call, the Institute's seismograph confirmed a minor earthquake had struck northwest of the Line Island chain. Although ending minutes after it had started, the tremors sporadically continued, producing impact waves that were not only powerful enough to interfere with Seaview's delicate instruments but shifted the huge submarine as well.

Chip Morton, glued to the plotting table and knowing they had to be getting close, meticulously marked down their every degree of advancement, scowling deeply when the men reported back: "Unable to get a reading, sir." Chip hated being blind, but with this type of turmoil, they were also deaf, putting Seaview and her crew in a very dangerous situation.

Crane, glancing out of the observation nose and seeing nothing but a massive swirl of debris despite the meager light from the surface above, restlessly jogged from one station to other checking readouts.

"Radar, Sonar, talk to me!" he yelled, peering over Bushnell and Lake at the ship's control gauges, but even those instruments had been rendered useless.

"I'm blind, Captain," Patterson replied from Sonar. "There's too much interference to get a clear sounding."

"Same here, Skipper!" reported Sparks from Radio. "I can't even pick up their location beacon."

"Even the Fathometer's gone berserk-o, Skip-" started Riley, grabbing the back of Patterson's chair to keep from flying. "I can't get a lock-on nothin'!"

In front of Crane, the two control pilots were oblivious to all else except wrestling the rebellious drive wheels in their hands.

"Don't know how long I can keep trim, Skipper," said Bushnell through gritted teeth.

"Do the best you can, fellas." Giving his planesman a reassuring pat, Crane jogged to the plotting table where he and Morton exchanged concerned looks. If Seaview could be rocked, the violent waters would be hell on a human being. "Do you know where we are, Chip?"

"We should be right over her, Skipper."

"Lee, report," called Nelson from the aft hatch.

"We're arrived at our destination, bu-" The sub rocked hard. In unison, the three officers reached out for the table. "We're deaf, dumb, and blind," Lee finished.

"Not so blind." Going to the forward monitor, Nelson turned it on. "I had the starboard camera's control mount redirected."

Perpetually aimed forward, the lens was now angled down and aft. By adjusting the dials on the set, the Admiral could, to a limited degree, direct the camera's direction, as well as the zoom ratio on the controls. However, with what the agitated water movement was tossing around from the ocean's floor, it was next to impossible to see anything.

"All ahead, dead slow," Crane commanded.

As the order was confirmed and applied, Morton trotted to the Radio Shack, "Sparks, anything?"

Pressing the headphones tight against his ears, the radio technician shook his head. "No, sir. Nothing since an hour ago, even when the waters were calm."

At the monitor, Lee glanced over his shoulder, making sure Chip was still out of earshot, then turned to the Admiral. He had known Nelson long enough to know that, despite his steady tone, the Admiral was seething! "Admiral," he said, his voice low, "you look mad as hell, what's wrong?"

"I was going over the earthquake report the Institute transmitted to us," Nelson hissed, his jaw drawn tight. The man wasn't seething, he was enraged. "The earthquake was a 4.2. The mini-lab was built to sustain three times that amount of assault! Aftershocks are known to continue for hours after the initial quake, but there's no reason, Lee-none whatsoever-why the mini-lab should fall apart like this! But I'm damn well going to-ALL STOP! There!" he pointed at the screen. "The mini-lab!"

Squinting hard, all Lee could see was swirling water. Normally, sunlight could only penetrate through water down to 70 feet, and that was another reason why Palmyra had been chosen. The water was so clear light could be seen at 120 feet, but with everything moving…

"Are you sure?"

"Positive!" Nelson smiled smugly. "I built the damn thing, didn't I? But…" and shook his head as Morton raced up to them.

"Do you think they're still inside?" Chip asked dubiously, straining to recognize anything on the screen.

Nelson took a deep breath. "Let's hope not." But inside he feared how Stella would react to leaving all that research.

Seeing only a murky screen, Chip peered at Lee, the two sharing the same uneasy look; they would have passed over the structure had they not known its exact location, but a lone diver was different story.

-/-/-

Her blue eyes shut tight, Helen concentrated on holding onto the boulder. She had thought about returning to ML-1, but had deliberated too long, and another tremor had struck in the interim, nearly sweeping her away. Feeling the chaos ebbing once more, she opened her eyes, peering in the direction of the mini-lab, praying it was still there. To her immense relief, it was. But for how much longer?

Looking hopefully upwards and straining to see through the chaiotic water, jubilation took her breath away-lights, many of them-hovered directly above her, so close she felt like she could touch them. Collectively they could only be one thing-Seaview!

Detaching the bulky raft from her waist, Doctor Helen Forbotini swam for all she was worth; praying it was as close as her goggles imaged it to be, and that she reached it before the next aftershock hit.

-/-/-

As the tremor subsided, the debris began to settle and through the inky water soon appeared the unmistakable glow of the mini-lab's lights.

Nelson shook his head, his brow deepening, his eyes locked on the monitor. "I don't know… the lab still looks intact, but-"

"Lower to 110 feet!" Crane yelled over his shoulder.

"Lowering to 110-"

"Look! There's someone there!" shouted Chip, causing all heads in the Control Room to turn. In spite of the murky water, the orange neon diving suit left no doubt as to what it was. "Looks like she's heading for the Missile Room. I'll go see who it is," he volunteered, and sprinted through the rear hatch.

-/-/-

Inside Mini-Lab 1, Stella anxiously struggled to zip up her diving suit while maintaining her balance on the rocking floor. Next, drawing her tank over her back, she strapped it on, going to the communications center. Grabbing the mike, she shouted into it one last time: "Seaview, abandoning Venus! Over."

Snatching her flippers from the floor, Stella headed for the escape hatch. Under normal conditions, the lab was easy to get around in, but having been shaken to its foundation, everything that was moveable-and some of which wasn't-was now on the floor: chairs, lighting fixtures, storage boxes. The facility itself was also leaning at a slight angle, and the seeping seams now made the tiled floor wet and slippery. Fighting her way around the tremor-induced obstacle course, Stella jolted to a fearful stop-a metal supply cabinet had fallen in front of the airlock.

Biting her lip, Stella looked over her shoulder at the southern escape hatch, knowing full well that it was unusable. The twisting structure had contorted the hatch's frame out of alignment. She knew she could open the hatch, but she'd never get it closed again.

With no choice but to move the unit, the scientist squeezed herself between the cabinet and the airlock. Next, positioning her hands on the slippery metal and bracing her feet against the brim of the hatch, she gritted her teeth and pushed-the cabinet moved half an inch. Then Stella felt the mini-lab once again begin to shake.

Swallowing her fear, Stella concentrated hard, pushing again. Hearing a creak and a snap several feet above her head, she looked up, toppling back in horror and surprise. The shifting structure had loosened a support beam. The falling beam's edge caught her left wrist as she scrambled out of the way, cutting her flesh like a knife.

"Ahhh!" she shrieked in pain and from the salt water that was now penetrating it. Grasping her wrist tight as blood began to pool, Stella shot a look around her surroundings.

Behind her, the towel rack had also been knocked over, scattering towels in all directions. Seizing one, Stella cut several strips using the beam's sharp edge. Wrapping it around the wound, she pulled the edges as tight as she could. Now wrapping a plastic bag over the bandaged injury, and praying it was good enough to protect it from the water, she secured it with a second strip.

Suddenly, the lab gave a violent shudder, followed by a deep groan. This time Stella knew she had to get out or die there. Already sitting on her haunches, she raised her feet, and shoved with all her might. This time the cabinet moved, clearing the airlock's entrance by only a few feet. Considerate of her tank and equipment, the thin scientist forced herself past the hatch's frame. Minutes later she was in the Pacific Ocean.

-/-/-

In Seaview's Control Room, Crane and Nelson continued their intense vigil at the monitor, their faces grim as they waited for word on the swimmer.

"If we-" Crane blurted out, but was cut off by Patterson at Sonar: "Another shock wave, Skipper!"

"Helm, hold her steady!" Crane relayed, positioning himself for the bombardment.

Beside him, Nelson seemed to pale more with each tremor that hit them.

"Missile Room to Conn." It was Morton via the intercom.

"Conn, aye," Nelson responded, having snatched up the nearest mike in a heartbeat. "Nelson."

"The diver's Doctor Forbotini," Chip answered evenly.

"How is she?" Nelson asked his voice full of concern, struggling to hold on with one hand as the boat rocked.

"She seems okay, but I'm going to take her to Sick Bay anyway. Any sign of Doctor Glacier?"

"No, not yet."

"Wait a minute, I see something!" shouted Crane, moving closer to the screen.

Both men stared fixated. Suddenly Nelson's face lit up. "She just came out! I'm on my way! Conn out." Shoving the microphone onto its clip, Nelson bolted for the hatchway.

"Lieutenant O'Brien," Crane ordered over his shoulder, close at Nelson's heels, "you have the Conn."

-/-/-

After assisting Morton with Doctor Forbotini a few minutes before, Chief Sharkey had returned to the Missile Room. Waiting there for further orders and to lend another hand if need be, he glued his eyes to the monitor, but through the turbulent water on the viewscreen, all he could see was the yellow spot of the swimmer's SCUBA suit.

"Update, Chief," Crane yelled the second his foot hit the hatch coaming.

Shaking his head, Sharkey's expression was dark as the two officers approached. "She's having a hard time swimming, sirs. Skipper, permission to take the mini-sub-"

"Denied!" Lee snapped, without a second thought. "You know as well as I do this water would throw the mini-sub from here to eternity!"

"We can send out a couple of divers, Lee, with a safety line attached," suggested Nelson, with renewed hope.

"They wouldn't get two feet-"

"I'll go myself, Skipper!" Sharkey burst in.

"Damn it, Lee, we have to try something!"

Lee looked from one man to the other. It was a painful decision and his options were disappearing by the second. By sending out two men, they could wind up losing all three. Still uncertain, his gaze fell onto Nelson.

Months ago, Lee had started hearing unflattering rumors as to Nelson's relationship with Stella Glacier. Although Nelson's personal affairs were none of his business, the men were friends, and as such, Lee, concerned. When he asked Harry about the rumors, the older man merely shrugged them off as being over-exaggerated gossip; yet studying Nelson now, Lee saw for the first real time, the intense emotional bound he had formed with this woman, and intuitively knew if anything happened her, Nelson's guilt would tear him apart.

We could lose all three, Lee debated. Or they could just make it back alive. "All right, Chief, go!"

"Riley!" Sharkey shouted, stripping off his tie. The young sailor appeared from behind the missile silo, fully prepped in diving gear. Following the Chief to the SCUBA closet, Stu seized an oxygen tank and swung it over Sharkey's back, while the Chief kicked off his shoes. "Just strap it on, Riley," he ordered, hoisting the tank. "We don't have time for everything!" Luckily, in the warm waters of the Pacific, a SCUBA suit wasn't a necessity.

At the monitor, Crane and Nelson watched the men with admiration.

"No man can beat Sharkey when it comes to being prepared," Nelson praised solemnly.

Nodding, Lee returned his attention to the screen. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she was getting closer."

"She probably is," Nelson said, with a thin grin. "Stella's one hell of a swimmer!"

Beside him, Lee's bristle went unnoticed.

A moment later-

"Done!" Riley shouted.

"Let's go!" Sharkey answered.

Racing to the airlock, the two men were met there by Crane. Shoving a tether line into Sharkey's hand as they entered the chamber, Crane then dogged the hatch behind them. Watching the bubbles in the air tube rise, Crane felt his own impatience growing. Lives were at stake and the escape capsule was taking forever to fill. The safety lights above the chamber flashed green, accompanied by the sound of rushing water from within. With that, Lee knew the divers were at last away.

Rejoining Nelson at the monitor, Lee gaped in amazement. "I don't believe it! She's almost here!"

"And without the help of anyone," Nelson replied proudly. "That's my niece!"

The comment shot through Lee like a bullet. Being friends for these past few years, Lee thought he had learned all there was to know about Harriman Nelson, but clearly he was wrong, and hid his hurt under the slightest of frowns.

-/-/-

Struggling through the water, her breathing labored, Stella knew if she lost sight of Seaview's lights, she would die. All of a sudden her arm burned like fire. Grasping her wrist and gritting her teeth, she forced herself to steady her breathing as she examined the binding, her worst fear confirmed. The bandages had worked loose, and was seeping blood. Stella quickly glanced around her, hoping the water was be too stirred up for sharks to follow the bloody trail.

Pushing her mind to focus, she forced her way closer to the sub's underbelly, but each stroke drained more and more of her strength. Only yard from the hull, she knew about where the escape hatch was. I can make it, she thought, kicking harder, if no shockwaves hit again. Suddenly she saw stars as pain shot through the back of her head. Hit hard by something behind her, she became up-ended as if caught in a tornado. Losing all sense of direction, Stella fought to regain control and stay conscious, but a vice clamped over her arm, gripping so tight she couldn't break away no matter how demonically she tried… terrified, disorientated, near blind in the murky void, Stella's strength and mind succumbed to the darkness.

# # # # # # # # # #

Nelson and Crane stared at the Missile Room monitor wide-eyed and fearful, their breaths held in their lungs. They had seen Sharkey and Riley leave the chamber, and no sooner had they done so when the Control Room warned of another impact wave. Helplessly they watched as the third swimmer disappeared in the oceanic turmoil. In a desperate attempt to find them, Nelson re-directed the starboard camera. Finding nothing, he pointed it to the airlock entrance. What he saw made his knees weak.

"She's in!" Nelson shouted, elated. "They got her!"

Only moments before, Riley, a faster swimmer than Sharkey, had fought the few feet of violent water to reach the struggling scientist. Despite the wave threatening to tear them away, the two divers were fresh and strong; Riley had lashed onto Stella's wrist just as Sharkey, secured by the tether line, had lashed onto his. Near enough to the hatch, and with aid from the line, the divers were able to return to Seaview with a minimum of strife.

Watching as the divers re-entered the escape hatch, Harry gave Crane a joyous backslap, then sprinted to the chamber where he now impatiently paced while it drained. As Nelson paced, Crane sped to the gear closet. Grabbing some dry towels from the shelf, he raced to the airlock just as the light clicked green, signaling it was safe to open the compartment. Dropping the towels, Lee released the lock, throwing open the hatch.

Reaching out to embrace his niece, the euphoric Harry instead found himself catching the unconscious woman in his arms. Thrown off balance by her dead weight, he fell to his knees where he lowered her to the floor.

"Admiral!" Sharkey gasped with horror, pointing-Stella's improvised bandage was soaked with blood.

-/-/-

It had only taken seconds for the men to rush Stella to Sick Bay, but to Harry it had felt like hours. Forced to wait in the corridor while Doc sewed up Stella's wrist and did other medical tests, Nelson, having quit smoking years ago, did the only thing he could do to relieve his impatience-he paced.

This has got to be the longest wait of my life! Looking at his watch again, it pained him to see only three minutes had passed since the last time he had checked.

"How is she?" Lee asked, unexpectedly coming up behind him.

Harry blue eyes were tense. "Alive. That's all Doc would tell me and that was forty-five minutes ago."

"The Doc can patch up anybody," Lee reassured him. "God knows he's patched up this crew enough," he added with a light laugh.

Nelson chortled at the thought, but it quickly faded. "If anything happens to her…" his voice trailed off. He hadn't meant to say it aloud, especially not to Crane, but he was so used to confiding in the young officer that he had forgotten who he was talking to, reminded only by Lee's abrupt straightening and subtle look of betrayal.

Clearing his throat, Nelson took a deep breath. "I'm her godfather, Lee," he said, his voice full of apology. "I consider her my niece because, simply put, she has no one else."

Lee's expression got even tighter. "With all due respect, Admiral, your relationship with Doctor Glacier is none of my business."

"It is as long as Stella's on Seaview, and as my friend, I think you have a right to know."

With shame now thrown in, Lee tensed up even more. He never wanted his friendship with Chip or Harry to interfere with any relationship they might develop with a woman. "Admiral, you have no reason to explain it to me."

"Oh, yes, I do!" He trusted Lee Crane with his life and the man needed to know that the trust was still there. But silently Harry cringed. The amount he could tell Lee was going to be a difficult balance at best.

"Stella's the closest thing to a child I'm ever going to have. I won't lie to you, Lee, I love the girl as if she were my own." Harry smiled at himself. Girl, he thought, she's a full-grown woman. "Her mother died when she was young and her father was too busy at his job to pay much attention to her." Regret filled his features. "These last ten years, I haven't been much better in the Dutch Uncle department, either."

"Up until two years ago," Lee corrected, remembering when the Admiral first loosely began referring to his "niece." "The funeral…."

Smiling, Nelson confirmed the fact with a nod, grateful that Lee had remembered. "Her father refused to be there-her own father, Lee! Can you believe it?! That only left me." Fire came to Nelson's eyes. "After I heard that, the Van Allen Belt couldn't keep me from being there for her. And nothing else ever will again."

"But you barely mentioned her to me…." Lee's forehead creased with disappointment.

Nelson shrugged. "We were mending fences, building bridges. I wasn't sure she would let me into her life again, let alone have a relationship. Seemed prudent not to say anything."

Mulling it over for a minute, Lee smiled slightly, the earlier frostiness now melted. "Well, from now on," he pressed, "if you want to talk, don't feel you need to hesitate." He then looked at his watch. "Break time's over, we'll talk some more later."

Right." Watching Crane depart, Harry let out the air he hadn't known he'd been holding. He hated lying to Lee, but this was one need-to-know mission he was better off not knowing about. Boy, am I going to catch hell later when he finds out! he acknowledged with a shudder.

-/-/-

His expression taunt, Harriman Nelson pushed back the loose strand of Stella's hair that refused to stay put. They had been in Sick Bay for several hours: Stella, pale and unresponsive; himself in a chair beside her bunk, torn between his duties and the needs of his adoptive niece. He had left a few times for coffee, but his devotion always brought him back within minutes. Moreover, after his conversation with Lee what Harry really wanted, at the moment, was a shot of scotch, but alas, he berated himself, he had neglected to replace his onboard stash after the last cruise.

Shifting in his chair to talk to the doctor, Harry found the physician was nowhere in sight. Probably sick of me asking when Stella would wake up, the Admiral mused, returning his attention to the cot. Nelson did a double-take. After waiting several long heartbeats, he erupted into a huge grin. Stella's eyelids had fluttered. Again, and again, and again, her eyes blinked open until they stayed open.

"Uncle Harry?" her hoarse voice asked groggily.

Thrilled she was finally awake, Nelson's smile grew as he nodded at the pale figure. Then he remembered something. "Yes, it's Uncle Harry," he said tightly, his blue eyes narrowing. "How do you feel?"

"Tired." Pulling her arms from under the blanket, she stretched them upwards. Realizing he hadn't said anything more, Stella furrowed her brow, wondering why, then lowering her arms, she saw the huge bandage on her wrist and all at once knew why. Looking between the bandage and the seething Nelson, she bit her lip. "You're angry," she said knowingly. "Go ahead, say it. I can't stand the suspense."

His simmering rage now at a boil, Harry's face turned red. "Of all the stupid, idiotic, negligent things to do! Risking your life like that!" Upon Stella's arrival in Sick Bay, the medical staff was astounded to find her diving suit stuffed with plastic bags, all of them containing key research reports.

"And that bottle of whiskey-"

"It's two-hundred year old Irish whiskey, Uncle Harry. My-"

"I don't care if it's thousand old-year-old Napoleon brandy!" he exploded. "You were stupid to do such a stunt!"

Stella's own eyes narrowed. "I couldn't leave all that research! Or the whiskey! I-"

"You almost lost your life! The complex became nothing but rubble minutes after you left it!"

"I didn't intend-"

"Sick Bay," the intercom cut in. "Crane at Conn, Admiral. We're ready to leave."

Standing, Nelson jabbed a livid finger at her. "Don't go anywhere! This conversation isn't over!" Going to the wall, he took up the mike. "Sick Bay, aye, this is Nelson. Affirmative, Lee, cleared for departure."

"Control Room, aye," Crane replied, clicking off.

In the cot, Stella raised her weary head. "Crane?" Her eyes grew large. "Lee Crane? Lieutenant Lee Crane?!"

"Yes." Nelson cleared his throat uneasily. "But he's not a Lieutenant anymore, he's Seaview's captain."

Dropping her head, Stella's eyes blazed. "If I'd known he was on board, I would have stayed on Venus!"

"Too late. And you'd better get used to seeing him around because there's no place you can go where you won't see him."

"Seeing him isn't the problem," she muttered angrily.

"Nor is it your only problem," he reminded her, crossing his arms firmly, a signal to Stella she wasn't going to get off easy.

Behind them, Sick Bay's door opened. "Hey!" greeted the surprised Doc, approaching the bunk. "My patient's awake. Admiral, can you excuse us for about an hour?"

"'Course." Wanting to say more, instead, Harry decided it could wait till later. Bending down, he kissed Stella's brow. "You stay there until the doctor says you're well enough to get up. Understand?" He was dead serious. "I'll be in later to check on you." Turning, he disappeared into the corridor.

"Aye, sir," she exhaled softly, glad he was gone-she'd never seen him so mad in all her life!

-/-/-

Not long after leaving Sick Bay, Nelson, upon returning to his office, called a meeting with his two senior officers. With Stella settled in and taken care off, he could now direct his attention to the near-catastrophe.

"Angie," he ordered over his shoulder from his desk to the person on the wall videophone directly behind him, "pull all the contracts and supply lists pertaining to Mini-Lab 1." Studying the immediate papers in front of him, Nelson's troubled look deepened. The folder contained only the minute specifics about the mini-lab. He couldn't evaluate how bad the situation was until he had the rest of the information and waiting wasn't high on his list at the moment.

"Supply lists of the builder, or what provisions we sent down there with the scientists?" she asked, her pen flying across the paper.

"Everything and anything you have, particularly the material component list. I want to know exactly, right down to the last molecule, what ML-1's material was made of, ASAP. If it wasn't built to my precise specifications, then there's no way in hell Mason's company is going to build the lab for Project Saturn. Or any other future NIMR projects for that matter!"

"Yes, sir," Angie replied, unfazed, having expected it. The vexed Admiral was on a mission, and when he was, people jumped and jumped high. Especially when the safety of NIMR's personnel was concerned. "Do you want me to fax it to you as I get it, or in one bunch?"

"I'll let you know later. Nelson out." The door echoed with a quick succession of knocks. "Come in…" he grunted.

Outside the door, Crane and Morton exchanged apprehensive looks.

"He sounds angry and determined," Chip said warily, his hand paused on the doorknob.

"When that happens, people run," Lee replied, half-jokingly.

"Or get fired," Morton added. "What's our job description again?" he asked, opening the door.

His mind working at a frenzied pace, Nelson impatiently waved the entering men to sit down, charging into the facts before they had even gotten to their chairs. "The Nelson Mini-Lab collapsed, gentlemen-why? She was specifically built with HY-80 steel, the same material used in our U.S. subs today, and designed to withstand forces much more intense than what our sensors recorded so why did she disintegrate so easily? I've got to know the answer; therefore, I've called Washington and ordered an official investigation.

"However, what I propose, gentlemen, is this… we're already here, we have the equipment, and since Saturn cannot be implemented, and may be even canceled, until we ascertain what went wrong with ML-l, I say we start delving into the site, here and now."

"Sir," queried Chip, "wouldn't we need an independent team of investigators for an unbiased opinion as to the cause?"

"Absolutely! That's why I've also called Dr. Deitch at the Department of Navy. He's just as mad as I am. He'll clear the channels and paperwork, taking over the "official" inquiry part of things. Once that's certified, he'll assemble a team, I'll pick them up in the Flying Sub, and once they're aboard, all we would provide is the manpower, equipment, and storage facility. All else is under Deitch's strict jurisdiction. What do you say, gentlemen? Want a challenge?"

Looking at each other, Crane and Morton then looked at Nelson, mirroring his same conclusion: "Let's do it."

"Great. We can start by photographing every inch of the site."

-/-/-

"Doctor Glacier," Doc began, lowering his scope after checking Stella's heartbeat, "you are one lucky lady. Since your hair-breath escape yesterday, your biggest injury, the sliced wrist, is on the fast road to healing, and after checking you over thoroughly, I'm satisfied… you're well enough to leave Sick Bay."

Delighted, Stella hopped off the table, stopping short. "That's great, Doc, but all our clothes are in the rubble called the mini-lab, what are Helen and I supposed to wear?"

"Ahhh," Doc nodded as if remembering something. "Admiral Nelson already thought of that. I apologize," he said sincerely, "but for you two women it is your only option." Pulling something blue from the upper bunk, Doc held up a crewman's jumpsuit. Seeing Stella arch a skeptical eyebrow, Doc lamely shrugged. "Sorry. This is all we have in store."

"So'kay," she said with a brief grin. "I'll live with it," then took the bundle from him.

"I'll, uh," Doc sputtered, stepping towards the hallway, "leave so you can change."

Locking the door after him, it only took Stella a minute to put on the uniform, at which she then grimaced. The smallest size in stores, the large jumpsuit hung loosely over her slight, 5'7" frame. Feeling rather laughable, the woman shrugged, resigning to the option. It could have been worse, she conceded, it could have been too small…."

Turning under the pant legs so she wouldn't trip on the hem, and rolling up the sleeves, Stella next headed for Nelson's office. The Admiral had a standing request that she go see him upon her release from Sick Bay. Thrilled to be up and about, Stella stretched her arms over her head, flexing her stiff muscles, wincing at the soreness in her wrist. The cut was going to take a while to heal, she reminded herself, but that was the least of her worries.

Concentrating her thoughts on the tragedy and everything they had lost, Stella blindly turned the corner, colliding head-on into an officer.

"I'm so sorry," she blurted, her cheeks reddening. Then recognizing the man, she took two steps back in shock, her embarrassment transforming into anger.

"My apologies as well, Doctor Glacier," Lee Crane politely returned before breaking into a wide grin. "Well, hello!" he exclaimed with glee. "We meet again. Put out any fires lately?"

Holding up her hands to ward him away, Stella sidestepped the commander, giving him the widest berth possible. "Crane, do us both a favor, and stay as far away from me as possible!" she growled, suppressing her temper as much as possible.

"Wait a minute!" he called, confused yet intrigued. "You can't still be mad over the fire in the lab, can you? After all, I'm the one who got slapped."

"Yes, I am!" she shot over her shoulder. "Among other things!" However, seeing his genuinely baffled expression, Stella couldn't ignore it. "You don't recognize me, do you?" she asked, returning.

Looking her over, Lee shook his head. "No. Should I?"

"YES!" she snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Considering you ruined my life! The name's O'Toole. You served under my father on the submarine Brandywine."

"O'Toole! Sure, I remember," the officer reminisced fondly, his head cocked, trying to understand where she fit in. "My first assignment as a Lieutenant. I was Engineering's department head…." Doctor Glacier did look familiar-Lee's mouth dropped like a rock. "NO, you can't be!"

"You got it, buster!" Stella growled her hands on her hips. "That little girl you shipped off to boarding school!"

"I did it for your own good!" he shot back, his cheeks flaring. Bitterly remembering those days, Lee considered it the worst month in his whole navy career. Stationed in homeport, every time he turned around he found Captain O'Toole's fourteen-year-old daughter on the boat, hanging out with the men as if she was one of them. It had become clear that once she reported in with her father her whereabouts were thereafter overlooked. A bad situation in and of itself, but foreboding of a worse one in the future, and he was not about to let it happen!

"A girl your age didn't belong on a boat with a bunch of sailors. You didn't know-"

"I did know! I didn't live on the sub; I merely visited it and those aboard. What's worse is my father liked you enough to listen to you, and he hasn't listened to me since. Those seamen who you were so worried about were like brothers to me. They watched over me like-"

"…like a little girl. I don't care how old you were, you didn't belong on a ship with a bunch of sailors!"

"Then you'd better look around you, Lieutenant, and tell me where am I now?!"

Barreling past him, she did not stop until she reached Nelson's cabin. There, she pounded only once before throwing open the door.

Once again, the Admiral was at his desk doing paperwork. "Hello, Stella," he commented pleasantly, not bothering to look up.

Walking to the chair opposite him, she dropped heavily into it.

Making her wait, it was a few minutes before he glanced up, and when he did, he did a double-take.

"You all right?" he asked concerned. "You look flushed."

"I just had a friendly conversation with your Lieutenant Crane."

"Oh…" he calmly said, laying down his pen.

"Right!" she replied, crossing her arms tightly.

During their reunion two years ago, she had mentioned Lieutenant Crane. It had not been a pleasant conversation by any means, and studying her, Nelson knew a warning shot had just crossed Crane's bow.

"He still alive?" Harry had hoped after so many years, despite what she had told him that her hatred of the man had dissipated. However, it was quite obvious the opposite was true.

"Yes, unfortunately." Giving her head a shake, she next feigned a big, cheery smile. "Sooo… what is it you wanted to see me about?"

Glad to be moving away from the touchy subject, the Admiral thoughtfully leaned back in his chair. "Seeing as Project Venus went to pieces, sort-of -speak, I was wondering if you'd like to continue your current research onboard Seaview?"

Stella's tension instantly vanished. "Are you serious? You know how much I love this boat!"

"That's why I'm offering it to you. I asked Helen, but she said no," he chuckled. "She equated working on a submarine as being a cigar in a humidor, so as soon as we get the Flying Sub working, I'll be taking her with me to Santa Barbara."

"No… wait." Mulling it over, Stella then frowned, shaking her head. "No. As much as I want to, I couldn't stand to be here with Crane."

"Do you want to stay?" Nelson asked pointedly. He knew she loved Seaview and the water, and for his own reasons he wanted her onboard.

"You know I do, but-"

"Then I'll take care of Crane before I leave."

"Oh, I'd love to take care of him for you!" she sneered. "But, all right… if you can get him to stay out of my hair, there shouldn't be any problems. So how would this work exactly?"

Admiral Nelson summarized the plan he had given to Crane and Morton. "…Therefore, instead of working from ML-1, you'd be working from Seaview, so," he grinned mischievously, "you interested?"

"Are you kidding?" Jumping joyously out of the chair, Stella sprinted around the desk, giving his cheek an affectionate kiss. "Thank you, Uncle Harry. You really know how to treat a girl!"

Before he knew it, Stella had flown out of the room. She definitely was a handful, he chuckled. Thrilled to be working with her again, he began to massage his tense temple. Now to tell Lee about it, he thought with dread. It was something he was not looking forward to!

# # # # # # # # # #

Off the North side of Palmyra and a hundred feet below the Pacific, Seaview hovered, gently swaying in the currents.

Inside the eminent sub, Stella Glacier leaned against the beam of the observation window. Gazing outwards where the clear waters of ocean let through enough light to showcase its many occupants, she let the peaceful swirl of the water soothe her tornadic thoughts. Whenever troubled, she always found peace in a body of water. On Seaview, with exception of the lab, the nose was her most favorite place to be. Unfortunately the observation deck was also forward of the ship's Control Room where the captain, naturally, would most frequent, and it was only with Chip Morton's staunch assurances that Crane was away on break that she even dared to be there.

Her fears alleviated about the Commander, she was soon oblivious to everything around her, including the two loud crewmen descending the circular stairs behind her.

"I tell you Mr. Morton would know," Kowalski lively insisted. "He knows more about computers-" Spotting the slender figure at the window, the man pulled up short. "Hey, who's that?" he asked, cocking his head for a better view.

"That's one of the lady scientists we rescued from Jones' locker yesterday."

"She looks like an old friend of mine."

"I thought all chicks were old friends of yours," Stu grinned impishly.

"No, I'm not kidding," Kowalski replied seriously. "She really does look like a girl I knew a long time ago. But it can't be." Curious, Ski needed to find out. Going to the woman, he managed to tap her once on the shoulder before he found himself flying into the air, and with a jolt, landing face up on the floor.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" Stella gasped horrified. "I get so wrapped up…" Her forehead crinkled, she tilted her head, encircling the man to get a better view of him. "Ski?" Her face lit up in rapture. "Kowalski, it is you! I don't believe it!" Concerned, she dropped to her knees. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride," he replied with a frown as Riley pulled the two of them to their feet. "I'm glad to see you haven't lost your touch," he grinned, massaging his hip.

"I told you, you were the best teacher there ever was!" Wrapping her arms around him, she gave him another ecstatic squeeze. "Oh, it is so great to see you again!"

Ski hugged her just as tight. "I didn't hear your name over the squawk box so you must have gotten married, congratulations!"

Stella's smile faded. "More like condolences, but we can talk about that later," and again embraced him. "It really is you!"

"I still don't believe it myself," Ski grinned ear to ear. "How long has it been?"

Overjoyed in the reunion, none of them noticed the captain coming down the stairs. Seeing Ski and the woman embracing, Crane froze on the spot. "Kowalski! Riley!"

Instantly, the crewman snapped to attention.

"Sir," Ski uttered respectively, swallowing hard. The captain's cheeks were flaring and that meant only one thing-he was furious!

"Doctor Glacier…" Crane circled around the trio like a buzzard, "need I remind you that this is a military ship, and any action on your part should be conducted as such! Kowalski, Riley, you should know better. Get to where you're supposed to be!"

"Aye, sir," the two men replied meekly, too afraid to move.

Giving Stella a disapproving glower, Crane turned on his heel, storming away.

"That lousy…." Stella's lips went taut, her eyes narrowed, and her fists clutched. "Who does he think he is?!" Charging after the man, she'd gotten only three steps when Ski caught her arm, swinging her back. "He knows he's the captain, and he's right," he reminded her. Ski had seen Stella's temper erupt only once before, when she was told she was being shipped west. It had not been a pretty sight and now was not a good time to deal with it. "Come on, there's a few other guys who'd want to see you again." Taking her hand, he pulled her to the forward stairs as the fuming Stella stared daggers at Crane for as long as she could see him.

On the top floor, Kowalski let out a violent sneeze.

"Better not have a cold, Ski, or you know what'll happen," Riley half-teased.

During the last four months, a contagious cold-virus had made the rounds at NIMR. Although it had run its course by the time Seaview returned to port, several of her men still caught it, including Captain Crane. By the time shore leave was over, with those few exceptions, no one else from the sub had shown signs of being inflected. Nevertheless, before sailing, Doc, fearful of the tight living conditions, placed strict orders with Crane that if anyone came down with anything, they would be shipped home immediately.

"Don't worry about me," Ski said, giving him a scowl, "I'm fine."

Minutes later, Stella was sitting atop a table inside Crew's Quarters, Riley, and Kowalski on the bench on either side of her, surrounded by other attentive members of the crew.

"And I learned all the prim and proper things a lady should be," she over-enunciated as her hand gestured absurdly in the air, making the men to laugh.

Laughter that caught the attention of a certain captain as he passed by the partially opened door. Thinking nothing about it, Crane continued past, until…: "They also taught us to dance," came Glacier's unmistakable voice. "That I really liked."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Crane's expression turned rigid as his body straightened to full height. He didn't like the idea of Glacier being in Crews' Quarters, but having faith in his men, he forced himself to listen objectively. For the next few moments, all he heard was innocent bantering and joking. With that, Lee began to relax. There was no real harm being done, he acknowledged with reluctance, and the scientist after all was going to be with them for a while. A warning ricocheted through him.

No-the woman, Lee remembered, tensing up again, is going to be with us awhile. The obstinate teenager who-

"I met John, we got married," he abruptly heard her say, "end of story." But Lee could tell by her sorrow-filled words there was more to it than that-much more.

"But somebody told me you had a baby," one of the men said.

On the table, Stella's eyes clouded over as she looked down at her hand. "I did, but she died," she said softly, looking up. "Crib death. John blamed me, walked out, and never looked back. Lousy story, isn't it? And all because of Crane."

"You can't blame it all on the Skipper, Stel," Ski half-heartedly argued, the other half filled with empathy.

"If he hadn't shipped me to the mid-west, I never would have met John."

Crane frowned deeply. He had had no idea, but nor was it his fault either!

"Hey, Stel… when we get home, how 'bout coming over to my house for dinner?" invited crewman Reed, another alumni from the Brandywine days. "Eleanor would love to see you again."

"Eleanor? Not that gorgeous redhead you were drooling over?

"Sure is," he confirmed proudly. "She's still just as gorgeous and we have three kids to boot!"

Out in the hallway, Crane's cheeks began to flare. He had a damn good reason for insisting her father send her away-she'd been too friendly with the crew, and listening to them now, he knew history was about to repeat itself.

"Doctor Glacier," he called, stepping into the doorway. "Would it be possible to speak with you, please? Now? If it wouldn't be too inconvenient?"

The room went dead as all the men froze. They knew Crane was angry, but to what degree they could only wait, pray, and find out. To their astonishment, Stella gave Crane a sweet-saturated smile. "Anything you like, Commander."

"Thank you," he replied curtly, giving the crew a disapproving scowl before stepping back into the hallway.

Behind him, the agitated woman picked up a mug and aimed, prompting several men to yell: "Hey!" as they scrambled to stop her.

"Whoa!" Kowalski exclaimed, staying her arm. "Not at the Skipper!" Snatching the mug away, he handed it to Riley for safekeeping.

"He was a louse then, and he's a bigger louse now!" She grumbled, hoping off the table. "I hope Seaview's big enough to hold the two of us, but I doubt it!" Disappearing into the corridor, Stella again smiled sweetly. "Yes, Commander?"

"Doctor Glacier, you have a tendency to forget that this is a military ship."

"I haven't forgotten anything. I went in there to see some old friends."

"This is still my boat, and those men are my crew and I'm ordering you to stay away from them."

"I told you, those men are my friends! We weren't doing anything-"

"I don't care what you were, or weren't doing. You're still a visitor on this vessel, and as such you are to refrain from fraternizing with the crew, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir, Commander!" she replied hotly, her eyes fierce. "Anything you say, Commander!" Giving him a mock salute, she spun on her heel, marching away. "Crane, you must be a very lonely man!" She yelled just before disappearing past the corridor.

Gnashing his teeth in aggravation, Crane was thankful he was going in the other direction.

-/-/-

"Admiral, I'm afraid of her disrupting the men," Crane fumed to Nelson later that morning as he furiously paced back and forth before the Admiral's desk. "She acts like she's part of the crew instead of-of…"

"A woman?"

"YES!"

"No, Lee," soothed the Admiral, waving him to sit down, the Captain reluctantly doing so. "Stella's all right. These men are like brothers to her, but I'll have another talk with her if that'll make you feel better."

"It would."

"I do suggest you two try to avoid one another if that's at all possible, or you might end up killing each other."

"Don't I know it!" The idea was too truthful for Lee's comfort. "I never knew a woman who could irritate me so fast with so few words."

Nelson chuckled. "Go on," he urged, "go grab some lunch. We have several long days ahead of us."

Studying Lee's back as he made for the door, Harry silently exhaled. Dealing with the Lee/Stella situation was becoming as complicated as playing chess. But at least for today, the game is over, he thought and for that he was he grateful.

At the door, Crane reached for the knob, but his hand never made it as all the scattered puzzled pieces of the Nelson/Glacier relationship slammed themselves together into one whole picture-a picture he had been duped into seeing as something entirely different.

Behind him, Nelson, feeling the air in the room abruptly change, looked up, saw Crane's hand hovering mid-air and knew he was about to catch hell. As if on cue, Lee spun about, staring at Nelson as if he had just confessed to murder.

"Your 'niece,' as you call her," stated Lee, his hazel eyes smoldering as he slowly descended upon the Admiral's desk, "is Stella Glacier O'Toole." It wasn't a question. "Two years ago you and she, after a decade apart, reunited."

Harry wanted to nod, but was too afraid to do so.

His eyes unwavering on Nelson, Lee continued forward: "She needed a shoulder to cry on, that's what you told me."

Harry gave the slightest of nods.

"Then you knew the history between us." It still wasn't a question.

Again, Harry nodded, ever so slightly.

"And yet," Lee was at the edge of the desk, "I ran into her on the sub-level labs at the Institute-how long has she been working at the Institute?"

Boy was he angry! Harry cleared his throat. "A year," he said as nonchalant as possible.

"A year!" Lee's eyes shot open. "And yet, you never brought her up! As a matter of fact, I remember asking you about 'your niece' several times, and as I recall, your answers were always evasive-you kept O'Toole hidden from me on purpose!" He leaned down, his hands on the desk. "Why?"

Game over, Harry silently sighed, knowing he would have to come clean. "Because I knew how she felt about you and I had hoped, in time, to reconcile the situation."

"But you couldn't have at least warned me?"

"You were appalled by Stella's freedom on the Brandywine. It broke every security regulation you were trained in. She was a thorn in your side just as you were a thorn in hers, and because of that I decided it best to keep you two apart. Nor did I think you'd appreciate her nickname for you."

"Which was?"

"That 'bastard lieutenant'."

Lee shot upright. "She called me that!"

"That's all she ever called you," Nelson replied wryly, "which is why I purposely avoided the subject at all costs."

"She, who was swearing like a sailor the first day I ever met her, calls me a bastard!?"

"There is a lot more to Stella than you know, Lee."

"I don't want to know her! She's already ingratiating herself to the crew, just like she did before! I don't want her here!"

Nelson's mouth tightened, his tone stern: "She's a scientist too, and therefore, she stays."

Opening his mouth to argue, Lee closed it, knowing he had just been warned.

"There's more to all this than you know, Lee. Have patience with her, avoid her if you need to, but give her a chance. I'm asking you to."

Harry's sincerity was doing the trick, and Lee could feel his anger defusing. He didn't like Stella O'Toole Glacier, but… "All right, as your friend I'll give her a break, and as Seaview's captain, I will even treat her with the respect due any guest we have onboard, but next time we're in port," his eyes narrowed, "dinner's on you, my choice where!"

Marching to the door, this time Lee took the handle-and stopped dead. Wheeling around, he folded his arms, eyeing Nelson with a knowing glint. "Chip Morton was in on this too, he had to be!"

The Admiral barely nodded. "Yes."

Lee shook his head, a crooked smile sprouting. "I always thought it strange he never tried to hook me up with Helen's coworkers. Now I know why." Heading for the door, Crane chortled evilly. "Both of you are going to pay for this! Oh, boy, are you gonna pay!"

-/-/-

After getting a fresh cup of hot coffee to clear his head and stretch his legs, Nelson returned to his office, once again concentrating on the reports concerning ML-1 and Project Venus. Two hours later, raising his eyes, he massaged his throbbing temples.

Nothing like the destruction of a dream to give a man a ton of paperwork to do, he mused as the intercom buzzed: "Admiral… Sparks. I have an in-coming call for you from Rear Admiral O'Toole."

Nelson felt his chest tighten. "Put him on videophone," he replied without enthusiasm.

"Aye, sir."

Swinging around his chair, Nelson activated the video monitor behind his desk. A moment later, the image of Patrick O'Toole appeared. Ten years younger than Nelson with thinning gray hair, O'Toole had rugged features and sported a perpetual frown, the mark of a man who took life in earnest, including his womanizing.

"Hello, Pat," Nelson greeted, his voice void of all warmth.

-/-/-

Stella, a terry clothe robe covering her damp swimsuit, turned the far corner of the corridor, as she patted her long, loose blonde hair dry with a towel. After being released from Sick Bay that morning, she had begged Doc and Nelson to let her go diving, but both men, refusing to let her push herself, had come up with a compromise. Chief Sharkey was granted permission to take her out in the mini-sub.

Thrilled to be going out again, Stella's delight skyrocketed when Sharkey navigated them beyond ML-1's originally established perimeter, giving Stella the chance to observe areas she hadn't be able to explore before.

Palmyra Atoll began life as the rim of an ancient volcano. Over the centuries, the volcano submerged leaving a lagoon, while the coral anchored to it grew upwards creating the reef. She and Helen has already categorized over a hundred species of coral, and staring out the cockpit shield at the rainbow of stony formations beside them, she knew they'd only begun to scratch the surface. Enthralled beyond words, Stella swallowed her disappointment when they were forced to go back when the mini-sub's battery signaled they were running low.

Having returned only a short while ago, Stella was heading for her quarters located not far from Nelson's when, several yards further ahead, Helen stepped from their cabin. She, too, wore a blue crew's uniform, but unlike Stella, Helen's ample frame filled hers out nicely.

"Hi!" Helen greeted, her bright eyes gleaming. "How was the dive?"

"Great! I'll tell you all about it at lunch. Right now I want to change and check the samples in the lab, okay?"

"No problem," Helen replied, holding up the folder in her hand. "I have to send this report to the Institute anyway. I'll meet you down there later."

Throwing her a good-bye wave, Stella took a few more steps then paused, bending over to flip her damp hair into the towel-and froze-her throat tightening as she listened to the loud, agitated and familiar voices behind Nelson's slightly-ajar door.

"Pat, I can't force Stella into something like that!" The voice was Nelson's.

"There's got to be at least one bachelor onboard Seaview," a second male insisted. "Make him her assistant!"

There was no mistaking that voice either. Her heart pounding hard in her chest, Stella slowly rose.

"Look, Pat, I agreed to ask Stella to stay on and continue with the research, but that's going too far!"

"Harry, this is my daughter we're talking about. All she does is work!"

Down the hallway behind the distracted woman, Crane appeared from the adjacent corridor. Seeing Glacier, the captain stopped, frowned, debated about taking a different route, then forced himself to be brave. Praying he could get by the woman without a confrontation, he continued forward with caution, his pace slowing when he, too, heard the yelling from Nelson's cabin. Wondering why Glacier wasn't moving on, Lee's jaw dropped to the floor-the woman was eavesdropping!

"Doctor-!" But the furious wave of her hand cut him off.

"Damn it, Harry, I want Stella married again!"

Out in the corridor, Crane snapped upright. He, too, recognized the voice. Never had he ever imagined…. Peering at Stella, his stomach tightened. She was stiff as a board, her expression shell-shocked.

"And most of all I want another grandchild. Find somebody! I don't care who it is! There has to be at least one man onboard who likes her!"

Lee's shoulders slumped as he felt his cheeks redden. Giving Stella a subtle look, he saw the hurt on her face and the wetness in her eyes. Then her eyes narrowed. Drawing her chin up proudly, she raised her fist, and before Lee could stop her, slammed it into the hull, next charging into the Nelson's cabin like a bull.

"Stella!" Nelson exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"How dare you!" she glared. "How dare both of you!"

"Stella, you need a husband!" her father said from the video screen.

"I don't want a husband! I don't need a husband! These are my friends, not my-my… How can I look at those men out there knowing my father's looking for a stud for his daughter?!"

"It's not that way!"

"Oh, isn't it? 'Assign one of the bachelors to be my assistant'! What would you call that, Dad? Matchmaking? If you're so damned desperate to have me married, why don't you just put me on an auction block and sell me! At least then, you'd get what you want. You always did!" Whirling on her heel, she barreled for the door where a heedful Crane sidestepped out of the way.

"Stella, please," Nelson begged, "try an-"

Snapping about-face, Stella's hard look stopped him cold. "Admiral Nelson, you have my resignation! I'll be out of here as soon as you find someone to replace me!" In seconds, she was gone, slamming the door with a loud and solid thud on her way out.

# # # # # # # # # #

Deeply disturbed by the confrontation of the day before, Lee Crane tossed and turned most of the night, waking exceptionally early, even for him. In spite of hearing what Admiral O'Toole had said, Lee still couldn't bring himself to fully believe it. Nor could he forget the soul-wrenching anguish on Stella O'Toole's face. He had witnessed the parent-child betrayal and wished with all his heart that he hadn't because now it gave credence to what Stella had been trying to tell him; that her father never again listened to her after Crane insisted she be sent away. Haunted by his previous actions, and knowing additional sleep would not be forthcoming, Lee forced himself out of bed.

But! He adamantly reminded himself as he entered his tiny bathroom, I might have sent her away, but after that, her life was her own, and I sure as hell never forced her to get married!

Dressed, shaved and feeling somewhat reconciled, Lee went forward. Coming down the circular stairs into the Control Room, he stopped short midway, his jaw dropping in surprise. There in a chair, staring vacantly out the glass nose was Glacier. Observing her, it struck Lee how alone and lost she looked.

Leaving the staircase, he quietly went to Patterson at the Sonar scope. "Morning, Pat," he greeted, keeping his words low.

"Morning, sir. What are you doing up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep. How long has Doctor Glacier been there?"

"All night."

"All night?!"

Solemnly, Pat nodded. "After you and Mr. Morton retired, she came down, and according to the night log, hasn't left since."

"Thank you."

Going forward to the plotting table, Crane checked their course, but his mind wasn't on the maps. Observing the biologist, Lee became lost in his dissection of her; soon admitting to himself that she was one woman he couldn't figure out to save his life, and with her temper, he really didn't want to. He also knew someone needed to talk to her, and as captain of Seaview, it was, regrettably, his job to do so.

Timidly, he approached her. "Doctor Glacier?" he said gently, not wanting to surprise her. Coming to her side, only now did he see her puffy face and tear-swollen eyes.

"What is it, Commander?" Her words were soft, but her eyes stayed forward. A twinge of guilt shot through him. "I came here because I'm worried about Admiral Nelson." Below him, Glacier noticeably stiffened.

"Oh?" she said her tone even.

Since the argument, she had refused to talk to Nelson in any way, shape, or form. Although the Admiral had tried to hide his feelings, Lee knew better, and to his recollection, hadn't seen Harry this tormented since the Polidor exploded.

"That argument you had with him has got him quite distraught, and as his friend I don't mind telling you I don't like it."

Biting her lip, Stella raised her chin high. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Apologize to him."

"Apologize?" she guffawed, hastily wiping a tear from her cheek. Abruptly her shoulders dropped as her face fell. "Sure, why not?" she grunted. "If it'll make you happy, if it'll make everybody happy, I'll go apologize to the great Harriman Nelson. Now go away and leave me alone." The last word had caught in her throat.

Lee's own shoulders drooped as shame and regret overwhelmed him. The fighting spirit the woman had shown earlier was gone. She looked utterly… defeated. He hadn't wanted this, nor had he expected it from her. The little girl he had known had always been strong-willed, but until this moment, he never considered that as a full-grown woman, she could also be vulnerable.

"I-uh…," Lee stammered, wanting to repair some of the damage, "I also know Harry loves you like a daughter. I've never seen anything upset him the way this argument with you has."

"This upset him!" Jumping to her feet, she flung away the tears that hung on her cheeks. "And what do you think it did to me?! He was the last person in this world I could trust, and here all the time he was in league with my father."

"He wasn't in league-"

"My father asked Harry to keep me onboard! Why? Because my father thought, out of hundred-some men stationed here, that one of them should take a liking to his daughter. Not because of my skills, or my intelligence, or my knowledge, but as something that could give Patrick Dennis O'Toole another grandchild, specifically the son he never had. So you tell me, Crane, who's the one who's been hurt?"

Bolting to the circular stairs, she stopped, glaring hard at him. "I'll be off your boat as soon as Nelson returns with my replacement!" Then disappeared onto the upper deck.

-/-/-

Thirty-six hours later, the overall mood in the Control Room was subdued at best, especially among the enlisted men. Every word of Stella's emotional, pre-dawn tirade at Crane had been heard by all the men on deck and therefore, spread like a sonar ping through the entire crew. Helen, Kowalski, and several other crewmen had gone to Stella to offer support, but she refused to talk about it, stoically insisting that she was all right. But those who knew her knew better.

With the Flying Sub once more repaired, a somber group consisting of Nelson, Doctor Forbotini, Morton, Crewman Lopez, and Crane gathered in the Observation Nose.

Crane, still worried, shot the unusually subdued Nelson several parental glances. Glacier had apologized, the Admiral had told him earlier, but it had been curt, the meeting done before Harry could say a word. Over the day that followed, Stella refused to see, let alone talk to Nelson, avoiding him in every way possible. Nevertheless hopeful, Harry continued to scan the deck for the woman's presence.

Lee also knew simmering just below the Admiral's surface was rage. Last night, Nelson had received a land-based call from Washington. Someone high past naval authority had not only ordered Nelson and Seaview back to port, but had canceled any further exploration of the mini-lab site as well. Although they had given Harry a flimsy reason why, he knew it was about the investigation into the lab's collapse. "They're going to hear from me, all right," he warned Crane. Lee, knowing Nelson, was glad he wouldn't be there for that meeting. Nelson would give them a piece of his mind all right, no doubt breaking a few windows in the process.

Footsteps and movement at the Flying Sub's hatchway drew everyone's attention.

"All set?" Crane asked Kowalski as he climbed up past the hatch's coaming onto the deck.

"Ready as she'll ever be, Skipper."

Scanning the room, Chip raised a baffled eyebrow. "Where's Doctor Glacier? I thought she'd be here to see everyone off."

Sporting an uneasy smile, Helen explained, "She and I said good-bye earlier."

"But Admiral Nelson-" he said innocently.

Glancing at Nelson, Helen saw the man stiffen. "Chip, honey," she said, holding a finger over his lips, "don't worry about it." Then leaning forward, she gently and briefly kissed him on the lips. "We'll talk about it in a few days. Take care of yourself, okay?" Then flashed him another warm smile.

Distracted by the enticing smile and the silent promises that went with it, Chip smiled back. "I will. Take care of yourself. As far as I'm concerned, those chemicals you play with are even more dangerous than being on a submarine."

"They're just like men," she replied saucily, "you just have to know how to use them. See you when you get back to port," she waved as she made her way down F.S.'s ladder.

"It's a date," the gleeful XO called down after her. Looking up and around, Chip found several nonplussed stares and raised eyebrows from his subordinates. His smile disappearing, it was immediately replaced by his characteristic staid expression. "Eyes on the task, Spencer," he barked to the crewman at the Flying Sub's control station. "The same for the rest of you."

Doing as ordered, the crew hid their grins. That was the Morton they knew and loved.

Sonar technician Lopez, acting as regulation backup pilot, descended next. The last passenger, Admiral Nelson, waited as long as he could. Then reluctantly acknowledging that Stella wasn't going to appear, he turned to Crane, giving him a single nod. "Time to go," he said before joining the others below.

Minutes later, the Flying Sub dropped out of her berth, propelling her way home towards Santa Barbara.

"All right, Mr. Morton," Crane announced, turning from the window, "let's take her home."

"Aye, aye, Skipper," Morton replied, heading aft.

Kowalski, off-duty and watching from the nose, waited until F.S. was gone before undertaking on a mission of his own.

Heading upstairs, he didn't stop till he reached Seaview's laboratory. There he found exactly what he expected to find: Stella at the first counter, her back to the door and eyes pressed tight against the lens of the microscope.

The oblong laboratory was the largest shipboard research center to date, as insisted upon by Nelson in his determination that Seaview also be known as a research facility. Against the wall on to Ski's left were storage cabinets and a wide, deep sink, to his right, the refrigerator and incubation units. Straight ahead were numerous salt-water aquarium tanks for live specimens. Down the center, from one end of the room to the other were two slate-topped counters, each holding a two-tier shelving unit the length of the table. Scattered over its top sat several microscopes, Bunsen burners, petrie dishes, and other assorted equipment and instruments found in one of Nelson's state-of-the-art laboratories.

Beside Stella on the counter was an uneaten sandwich, and next to that, a magenta-colored branch. Ski shot it a cursory glance. No doubt her latest project, he thought, approaching his friend.

"Stella?" he asked, his mind filled with concern. He had seen her like this before, and it scared him to see her like this again.

"Yes?" Peering over her shoulder, a frown creased Stella's brow. She had seen that dire expression on Kowalski before, too. "Hi, Ski." And returned her eyes to the lens.

"You haven't been in to see us lately," he said with measured words. "The crew misses you. Did the Skipper come down on you that hard the other day?"

"No, I-uh… have at least twenty-five samples I have to categorize, and you know how I get when it comes to work. I can't break away." As if to confirm her point, she made a notation in the notebook beside the scope.

Ski's face clouded over as he pulled himself to full height. "Yeah, I know. I know every time you're hurt, you seclude yourself away from everybody, choosing to be with that damned bit of metal instead of people!"

"Don't do this, Ski," she begged, anger and dread welling up inside her. It was just like the first time all over again.

"It's not gonna solve things, Stella. You have to quit running away from people!"

"People?!" She whirled about, her eyes blazing. "You mean the same people who've abandoned me all my life?! Disappointed me? Why should I?"

"We're your friends. You can talk-"

"I don't want to talk! I want to be alone! I'm still trying to understand what happened. That was my father, Ski. The same father who refused to come to his only grandchild's funeral. The father who's acting more like my pimp an-" she choked. "I can't imagine what the rest of the men must think of me now. Hell, I don't even know what to think of myself!"

She hoped off the stool, but didn't get far as Ski took her forearm, drawing her back to him. "That's why you need me to talk to."

"Oh, like years ago when I was shipped off the Brandywine?"

Ski's hand fell to his side. "That was uncalled for, Stel, and you know it."

"But the truth-look," she said suddenly, holding up her hands to fend off any further arguments. "The bottom line is, I can talk to you all you want, but I'm the one who has to deal with this. I'm the one who needs to find the inner strength to put it all into perspective, and for that I need time... alone."

"But that's what I'm trying to tell you." This time Ski grasped her shoulders with both hands as if to keep her from bolting. "You need friends around you so you know you're not alone, and you aren't. Not as long as you have me, Riley, and the rest of the guys onboard."

"As long as I have you… oh, wouldn't Crane love to hear that!" she guffawed.

"You know what I mean," he said, his voice stern but insistent.

Feeling her eyes water, Stella bit her lip. No one, with the exception of Harry, had ever said this to her before. And Kowalski looked worried-and sounded sincere-touching her heart deeply.

"You bastard…" she muttered, words failing her.

"Hey! What did I tell you about cursing?" he playfully admonished, chucking her chin, his hopes rising. "Do that again and I'll wash your mouth out with soap,".

"A compromise then," she said, straightening his collar. "Give me a few days to work out my anger, and then I'll come see you guys. By then I should be fit to deal with the human race again."

"You sure? You're not lying to me?"

"Just a few days, and if I don't," she waved at the counter, "you can break my microscope."

"Deal. I'll let you get back to your research then." Giving her a solid, reassuring hug, the man headed for the door.

However, once in the passageway, Ski's smile vanished. Uncertain of her behavior and the credibility of her promise, yet unable to do anything more about it at this time, Kowalski left, determined that this would not be the end of it.

At the laboratory's sink, Stella patted her face with cold water. Although wrung out, emotionally and physically, the woman's smile nevertheless grew from ear to ear as her spirits soared. Wow! Ski wants to be there for me! Only Harry has ever given me emotional support and even then, he wasn't…. Pushing off negative memories of the past, Stella towel dried her face.

"Maybe there's hope for me yet," she mumbled happily, peering out the corner of her eye at the white enamel tray next to the faucet. While out exploring in the mini-sub the other day, she and Sharkey had stopped at the rubble of ML-1. On the broken pile, clearly dislodged from its natural habitat, she had found an exceptionally large "tree" of black coral. Intrigued, she included it with the rest of her samples. However, late that morning, she had pulled the three by four foot branch from its salt-water storage tank, laying it in the enamel tray. Then, distracted by Helen's departure, she had forgotten all about it. Now, several hours later, the white "live" tissue that covered the hard, black skeleton, hence giving the coral its name, had fallen off, revealing a bright magenta tube-like host under it.

Piquing her curiosity once again, Stella pulled a magnifying lens from the drawer. "Okay, you're not black coral, like I thought," she mused, examining it with long-handled tweezers. "And your tube looks like it should hold a worm but I've never seen a worm tube this small before, so what exactly are you?"

-/-/-

Emerged in a plan to get Stella out of her lab, Ski turned the corner, colliding headlong into Captain Crane. "Sorry, sir," he said absently, continuing.

But his preoccupation had not been lost on the officer. "Ski?"

Stopping, the young man turned around. "Yes, sir?"

"Anything wrong?"

Trusting Crane explicitly, Kowalski would have liked nothing better than to talk to the captain about Stella, but he, more than anyone onboard with the exception of Admiral Nelson, knew how much Stella hated Crane for her banishment from Brandywine.

Ski shook his head. "No, sir. Nothing's wrong. Dismissed?"

Crane gave a single nod. "Dismissed." Watching Kowalski go, Lee glanced in the direction he had just come. It didn't take a genius to guess what was on the sailor's mind. But what really bothered Lee was that Ski had lied. Not only had Lee worked hard at nurturing his men's trust and vice versa, but also Kowalski was a man Crane would trust his life to and already had many times. Ski's loyalty was second only to Sharkey's so he especially should know he could come to his captain about anything.

Anything, except… Lee wondered. Taking an apprehensive breath, he called out, "Is it about Doctor Glacier, Kowalski?"

Halting, Ski peered uncertain at him. "Yes, sir," he confessed after a long pause, backtracking to Crane. "I'm very worried about her, Skipper."

"Oh?" With reluctant understanding, Crane patiently listened. He knew Ski and the rest of the men were peeved at him for ordering her to stay away from quarters, and notwithstanding, a sub's protocol, Seaview's included, was noticeably more relaxed than the surface ships, but there were still certain regulations which had to be adhered to.

"For the last few days she's avoided talking to any of us, me included. I know you don't approve, Skipper, but there's no harm being done. And just the fact that she stays away worries me."

Studying Ski, Crane's resistance slowly dissolved. Kowalski's worry for the woman he considered a friend clearly outweighed any annoyance he'd had with his commanding officer. And given the emotional turmoil of last few days, it was a concern Crane couldn't casually dismiss in all good conscience.

"Did you talk to her about it?"

"Just a few minutes ago. She said she needed to work things out."

"Given the circumstances, Ski…"

"Skipper, I've known Stella for a long time. The only time she isolates herself is when she's mad, upset, or depressed about something. She doesn't work things out she simply entombs herself in her work, shutting everything else out around her."

"She is a scientist, Ski, and you knew her a long time ago," he said, trying to convince himself as well.

"Captain, I was serving under Stella's father when her mother died. It took us four months to pull her out of her depression, but before we could, she lost fifteen pounds, went through twenty books, and brought her school grades up from a C to an A, which for Stella was no easy task. No, sir, I'm afraid one of these days she just might literally bury herself in her work if somebody doesn't do something about it."

Ski's face was etched with worry, and as much as Lee would have preferred to stay away from the temperamental scientist, he knew the crewman was depending on him to do something-<anything. Drawing in a breath, Crane reluctantly gave in. "All right, Ski, I'll talk with Mr. Morton, maybe we can work something out."

Ski's demeanor brightened. "Thank you, sir, I'd appreciate it." Then gave a hard sneeze.

Now it was Crane's turn to be concerned. "I hope you're not coming down with a cold, Ski. You know Doc's orders."

"I hope not, too. Thanks again, Skipper."

Crane forced himself to smile. "Anytime."

Given leave and feeling the weight lift his shoulders, Ski headed for the Mess Hall. If Stella would just ease up on the Skipper, maybe they could actually- Turning onto the stairs to go below, Kowalski's world violently spun in all directions. Not knowing which way was up, he instinctively grabbed the handrail, swinging himself back onto the landing, and escaping a headfirst tumble down the stairwell. Frightened, his heart racing, his hand still gripping the rail, Ski forced himself to steady his breathing, anxiously waiting for the vertigo to subside. A minute later, the violent episode was gone, just as quickly as it had come. Relieved, yet still unsure, Ski took a wary step from the wall. When the floor and ceiling stayed where they were meant to be, he straightened up, turning towards the stairwell again just as Mister Morton bounded up.

"You all right, Ski?" the XO asked, giving the paled man a suspicious once-over.

"I, uh, wasn't watching what I was doing, Mr. Morton, and nearly fell down the stairs."

"After all these years, Ski, you'd think you'd know better. Be careful, next time!" Giving him a pat on the shoulder, Morton hastened toward officers' country and his own cabin.

"Aye, sir," Ski muttered behind him. He then gave his head a shake. Nothing happened. Satisfied, he continued downstairs, his thoughts returning to the obstinate Stella.

# # # # # # # # # #

In the laboratory, Stella stared, her eyebrow knitted, into a book lying open on the counter. The pages contained several pictures of rare tubeworms, but none of them matched the one in the tray. With a deep sigh of defeat, she snapped the book closed, slid to her feet, and headed for the storage shelves.

Balancing on the lab's step stool, Stella reached towards the upper shelf of the cabinet when her world suddenly disappeared into a blur of dizziness. Grabbing the cabinet door as vertigo threatened to pull her to the floor, she clutched onto it for dear life until the spinning stopped. A long minute later it finally did. Unsure, her heart racing, Stella tentatively let go of the door. The room remained firmly in place. Stepping off the stool, she went to the nearby sink. Filling a glass she gulped down the cold water, then took a long, deep breath. Relieved that nothing more had happened, she was even gladder that no one was there to see her.

Must be the stress, she thought wearily, running a hand through her hair.

Returning to the step stool, she pulled down the extra box of glass slides. Next using a scalpel, she cut a paper-thin slice from the magenta tube, which she put on the glass slide. Then, her heart quickening with anticipation, she slipped it under the scope. There, her enthusiasm died-the plant's biological make-up was overwhelmingly familiar.

"Damn," she frowned, just as there was a flash at the corner of her eye. Glancing over, Stella did a double-take, her heart slamming into her chest. On the floor by the sink was Brianna, her deceased four-month-old daughter.

Snapping her eyes shut, Stella pressed both palms to her forehead. "I must have the flu or something… Brianna died two years ago-I am not seeing her!" Fearful of what the hallucination could mean, Stella concentrated intensely on the kitten she someday wanted to get. Slowly, the pain of losing the child dissipated and when Stella next looked over, the brutal memory was gone.

Propping her elbows on the counter, the woman began massaging her aching brow. "Here I thought working on Seaview was gonna be fun." she muttered, climbing to her feet. "The sooner I get away from that damn man the better!"

-/-/-

In the Control Room, Crane was doing the routine check of the instruments as Morton, over at plotting, was marking their course on the chart. Glancing at the nose-port, Chip's face broke into terror-Seaview was heading for a cliff wall!

"Sternman, pull her up!" he screamed, charging towards ship control station. "She's gonna hit the cliff!" Seizing the sternplane column from its confused operator, Chip pulled back with all his might, throwing everyone off their feet and plunging the boat into a mass of confusion.

Furiously regaining his footage, Crane sped towards his Executive Officer. Grabbing Morton's arm, he tried to drag him away, but Chip, in desperation to save his boat, would not let go. Just as desperate, Crane, wrapping his arms around Morton's chest, pulled up both legs-the unexpected dead weight pulled the frantic XO forcibly from the wheel, sending both men crashing to the deck. Rolling to his side, Lee grabbed the advantage, pining Morton's arms to his back.

"Stern?!" Lee yelled, refusing to release his friend even as Kowalski and Patterson ran over to help.

"I've got the bubble, Skipper!" came Bushnell's reply.

"Chip, what is wrong with you?" Lee glared.

"Didn't you see the cliff?! We were heading straight for it!"

"There are no cliffs in this area! We would have known otherwise! And Chip… we're too deep to see anything out the viewport!"

With that, Morton's head whipped around. Outside, all he saw was blackness. "But I saw it! It was right there!" Rationale sinking in, Chip's body slumped in resignation. "But you're right." His face contorted with a mixture of disbelief, fear, and shame. "How could I…? But it looked so real!"

Nodding to Ski and Pat, Crane released Morton's arms as the two crewmen helped both officers to their feet.

"Go to Sick Bay and have the doctor check you over," Lee gently ordered.

Feeling foolish and alarmed by his hallucination, Morton didn't argue. "Right, sir."

"Patterson, you'd better go with him."

"Aye, sir."

Watching them go, Crane mentally registered the incident, adding a note to talk to Doc about it later, then turned his attention to helm and stern. "Everything okay?"

"Affirmative, Skipper," joked Helmsman Lake with a young, cocky smile. "We have everything firmly in hand."

Crane allowed himself a brief grin. His men were the best in the entire U.S. fleet. Then peering at the viewport, he frowned. They were the best, but they were also human, and only a human frailty could have made Morton behave the way he had. Regardless of the reason, Lee couldn't stop worrying about his executive officer.

-/-/-

Oblivious to the happenings in the Control Room, Riley, and fellow crewman Holland exited the midship's shower room, consumed in their own argument:

"I'm sorry, Stu," Holland insisted with a good-natured grin, buttoning up his fresh uniform, "but you've got it all wrong!"

"No, dude," the former surfer said, waving his comb at him, "you're the one who's way off." Stu's jaw hit the floor. "The corridor's on fire!" he yelled, charging down the hall.

"What?" Holland, his mouth open in disbelief, whipped around, searching for flames or even smoke but there was nothing. Alarmed about Riley, he sprinted after him.

Racing to the fire extinguisher in the port corridor, Riley skidded to a halt, grabbing the mike next to the canister. "Fire detail to B Deck, Frame 47!" he yelled. "On the double!!"

Coming up beside him, Holland snatched it out of his hand. "Cancel Fire Detail-repeat-cancel Fire Detail to B Deck, Frame 47!"

"Holland, are you nuts?!"

"No, Stu, you are!" Holland shot back.

In the Control Room, Chief Sharkey was just entering when the counter command was piped through. Joining Crane in exchanging curious looks with O'Brien, Sharkey then rolled his brown eyes. "I'd better go see what's going on," he sighed, doing an about-face.

"I'll go with you," Crane said uneasily. "Lieutenant O'Brien," addressing his temporary XO, "you have the Conn."

"Aye, sir," O'Brien answered to Crane's retreating back.

As they made their way to midship, Holland, in the meantime, dragged the reluctant Riley down a third hall in search of the elusive fire. "See, Pat, there's nothing here either," he said, waving at the empty corridor. "No fire, flames, not even smoke. What's wrong with you? That's the second hallucination you've had today."

"I want to hear it as well, Riley," came Crane's voice from behind them.

Feeling their stomachs tighten, the two crewmen turned around. The skipper looked stern, but Sharkey was downright peeved!

Approaching, Crane glanced questioningly between them. "Riley, Holland, what's going on?"

The crewmember exchanged embarrassed glances.

"It's a little hard to explain, sir," Holland started. "We were-"

"There is no explanation, Skipper," Stu blurted. Knowing he could get sent home, Stu, nevertheless, held his head high. Crane was a tough commander but fair, and he always listened to his crew before making judgment. "I had a hallucination. The second one today, sir."

Appreciating his honesty, Crane studied the man from head to toe, yet saw nothing physically wrong with him. "All right, go down to Sick Bay and have the Doc check you out."

"I'll take him, Skipper," volunteered Sharkey. "Holland, you need to get where you belong."

"Yes, sir, Chief,"

"Let's go, Stu," the Chief prodded.

Behind them, Crane gritted his teeth. First Morton, now Riley. The cases were too isolated to say there was a pattern, yet both men hallucinating within twenty-four hours was anything but a coincidence. Whatever it is, it's now in Doc's hands, he reasoned. If it's anything serious, he'll inform me. Having a boat to run, he pushed the issue to the back of his mind and returned to the Control Room.

-/-/-

04:00 in the morning, the buzz of Lee Crane's bunk-side telephone broke the dead silence of his cabin. Instantly alert after the first shriek, Crane had the receiver in hand before it rang a second time.

"Crane," he replied, his heart pounding. The only time he was summoned this early was for an emergency.

"Captain, Sick Bay, please come on the double," the corpsman relayed, his voice brittle. "It's important."

"On my way."

Five minutes later, the fully dressed captain rushed into Sick Bay, skidding to a dead stop-all the bunks were filled!

Unprepared for what he found, Lee felt like he had been punched in the stomach as he slowly took in the room. Next to Morton and Riley, there was now Holland and Patterson, as well as a dozen others. Silently calculating what stations were affected, the answer frightened him to the core. At least two men from each watch!

Spotting the doctor in the corner administering medicine to one of the sailors, he sprinted over. "Doc, what's going on?" he demanded.

"An epidemic," Doc said, through gritted teeth.

"Of what?"

Straightening up, Doc signaled him to follow, leading him into his small corner office. "I have no idea," he whispered, his face drawn and tired. It was obvious he had been up all night tending his patients. "Only a few came in yesterday, but over half the crew-"

"Over half the crew?!" Crane scanned the room, his mind quickly recalculating….

"Half of them came in during the last few hours. The corpsmen set them up in the Mess Hall next door. Whatever it is, it's hitting like lightning."

"Can you do anything?"

"I'm doing everything I can, but it isn't helping much, if not at all."

"Well, I can do something," Crane said, his cheeks flaring, "I can head us into the nearest port!"

Rushing from the room, Lee had gone only a few yards when Seaview plunged sideways, throwing him against the bulkhead. Rubbing his stinging shoulder, he waited for the boat to level out but Seaview instead angled downward and to the left. Terror shooting through him, his injury forgotten, Lee Crane half-sprinted, half-skidded the rest of the way to the Control Room over a floor that was now slanting as steep as a staircase.

On the deck above, the startled Stella cautiously picked herself up off the floor of the laboratory. Opening the lab's door, she'd been about to return to her own cabin when she was hurled off her feet. Feeling the sub's drastic angle, Stella's heart raced-no sub goes that steep unless there's a problem!

Fighting to stay upright, Stella staggered to the Control Room as fast as she could, scrambling down its circular stairs, and pulling up short at what was before her.

At that same instant, Crane appeared through the aft hatch. Latching onto the vertical plotter, he paused, assessing the chaos that engulfed his boat: men were lying immobile on the floor, key men, including several officers-and Seaview was still diving. Because of that, nothing else mattered.

Knowing they could be nosing below crash depth by the time he issued a "full reverse" order to Maneuvering, Lee tottered forward to ship's control.

At the aft hatch, the startled Sharkey came bolting in. Practically thrown out of bed a minute earlier, he'd broken his own personal record for running over a slanting deck. Still in his bedclothes, he, too, processed the chaos; sprawled out on the floor by sonar was O'Brien. The rest of the crew, Sharkey noted with fear, were not looking too well either.

Seeing Crane descending forward, Sharkey automatically snatched up the nearest mike. "Maneuvering! All back full!" Then sounded general alarm.

At the alarm, throughout the ship, those crewmen who could, scrambled….

At ship's control, Crane found Officer of the Deck Bishop unconscious on the floor behind the pilot seats. Both operators were also out cold; Bushnell leaning forward and to port, while to his right, Helmsman Lake was also slumped forward over the yoke where the weight of his body was keeping the submarine in a perpetual left turn.

Standing was precarious at best, yet bent awkwardly over the operators in the narrow space of the station, and doing their best not to step on Bishop, were Langevin and Momen. The two men were frantically struggling to free Bushnell from the tight confines of his chair thus allowing them to regain control of the diving sub.

Stepping over Bishop, Crane pushed Langevin towards helm. "Get Lake out of there!" He next went portside to the Main Ballast Control Panel. Lee didn't have time to think about possible consequences as he reached overhead to two interlock plungers. Pulling off one of the interlocks, he turned its stainless steel lever from straight down to straight up, initialing the Emergency Main Ballast Tank Blow on the forward group of tanks. Used only in dire emergencies when the valve plungers are opened, 3,000 pounds of high-pressured air are blown into the main ballast tanks, sending the submarine immediately upwards. In the best circumstances, Seaview would broach safely. In the worst, she would slam into an innocent surface ship….

Crane struck the actuator on the ballast control panel and a second later, the familiar "oooh-gah" of the diving alarm split the air, reverberating three times throughout the ship. Somewhere on deck, Sharkey announced, "Surface, surface, surface!"

Almost instantaneously, they heard the loud roar of air as it shot into the tanks. For everyone, especially Lee Crane, it was a comforting sound. Whatever happened, their chances of surviving would be better on the surface than at the bottom of the sea.

At this time, they felt a gentle lurch under the feet-Seaview's engines had also kicked in, aiding in the slowing of their dive.

At the helm, Langevin had tried to obey Crane's order, but with the sub's steep slant, he couldn't keep Lake upright long enough to release the seat belt. After several unsuccessful tries, unexpected help came in the form of Doctor Glacier.

Stella, afraid and uncertain of Crane's reaction should she try to help in any way, had kept to the stairs, but seeing Langevin's dilemma, she couldn't stand being the useless observer any longer. Throwing her fears aside, she ran over.

Slowly the deck under their feet began to rise.

With Glacier holding upright the unconscious Lake, Langevin's view was now clear. A muted click signaled the release of the belt. Grabbing Lake under the arms, Langevin hoisted the helmsman from the chair, so swift in fact, he nearly lost his balance, which would have sent both men sliding downwards into the Radio Shack. Dropping Lake beside Bishop, the crewman's head barely hit the floor before Langevin was in the chair, ending the wayward sub's leftward spiral.

Within seconds, the emergency blow gained momentum forcing the boat's nose up. Seaview, as she shifted from her twenty-degree downward angle, momentarily leveled out before propelling topside at a steeper angle of thirty degrees.

What frightened everyone now was what might be on the surface.

With the helm no longer in dire straits, Lee turned to the sternplanes.

In the interim, Momen had taken hold of the yoke as best he could around the immobile Bushnell, and managed to unlatch the seat belt before the emergency procedure took hold, shifting them in the opposite direction. However, the man's dead weight still limited movement of the yoke. It was like driving a car with one's knee and if Seaview wasn't under full control when they hit the surface….

Crane threw his arms around Bushnell's chest, but with the submarine's drastic slant and Bishop under foot, there was little room for either man to maneuver, let alone get solid footing. Lee pulled with all his might, but the man remained solidly in position.

"Damn it!" Crane grunted as he again uplifted without success.

"His leg's caught on something under the panel!" yelled Momen. Using his left hand to keep himself from falling, he had no choice but to use his right hand to release Bushnell's leg. Yet each time he reached down, his body unavoidably pushed forward on the column forcing the sternplanes downwards. Jolting at the contrasting directions, Seaview's structure moaned loudly.

Stepping back to get a better hold, Crane whirled. Having forgotten about the unconscious Bishop behind him, the snap of changing his step caused him to lose balance and would have fallen had it not been for someone steadying him from behind. Flicking a glance over his shoulder, to Lee's surprise it was Glacier.

Wordlessly, she dragged the incapacitated Lake, then Bishop towards the Periscope Island and out of everyone's way.

Further aft, Sharkey called out from the auxiliary depth gauge, "Nine hundred feet!"

Crane cursed. They were getting close to the surface, and if they didn't get control of the sternplanes fast….

Beside him, Momen cried out, "His shoe's caught on something! I can't see it! It's on the other side."

"Seven hundred feet!" yelled Sharkey.

Stella scrambled past both men, dropping to the floor on their left where she squeezed her small frame into the narrow space between the ballast tank control panel and the control station.

"Five hundred feet!"

Immediately catching on, Crane braced himself, his arms around the unconscious Bushnell as Momen, in his awkward position, steadied the column. A second later, Stella shouted: "He's free! Get him out of there!"

Crane pulled. This time Bushnell lifted free, his feet barely clearing the top of the seat when Momen jumped into it. "I've got the bubble!" he yelled, exhaling a deep, ecstatic sigh of relief.

"Three hundred feet, broach!"

Lee grabbed the chair just as Seaview shot through the surface, flew momentarily in the air, next dropping fast enough to levitate her inhabitants for several seconds, sending their stomachs to their heads.

Holding his breath, Crane prayed there would be no aftermath. When no grinding metal was heard, no water streaming in from a puncture, nor systems screaming in alarm, he knew they'd made it to the top without killing anyone-and let out a deep sigh, muttering a sincere "thank you."

Regardless, Lee knew he had to get Seaview out of harms' way. Knowing the crew was shaken and on edge, he called out loudly, his voice clear and calm, "Radar, report."

"All clear, Skipper," yelled Kowalski with glee in his voice.

"Momen, down three-hundred feet, ten degrees down bubble."

"Down three-zero-zero feet, aye sir," the stern operator answered with a contented grin, "ten degrees down bubble."

"Helm, all ahead two-thirds."

"All ahead, two-thirds, aye," Langevin responded gladly, alerting Maneuvering via the engine-order telegraph.

Once safely back under the waves, Crane felt himself relax. Time to take account of the situation, he thought, glad for a moment of calm.

At the Periscope Island, Stella, her expression full of bafflement, was doing a cursory examination of the three injured crewmen. They showed no signs of waking up, nor could she find a cause for their unconsciousness.

Hearing rushing feet from the aft hatch, Stella looked over. It was two corpsmen. Standing to get out of their way, she took several steps away when a pop, fizz behind her head made her jump. Spinning about, she saw fire spitting at her from a port control board. With an extinguisher attached to the wall near her, Stella felt no hesitation this time. Seizing the instrument, she attacked the flames with a vengeance.

"Engineering, hold," Crane barked into the plot table microphone. He'd been getting the latest damage report when he heard the fire break out. Startled, he turned just in time to see the biologist snatch up the extinguisher and charge the fire before any of the crew even had a chance to do so. Poised to give assistance, Lee found there was no need as Glacier was handling the fire just fine without him. A slow, appreciative smile came to his face.

Next to Crane, Sharkey, who'd been pinpointing their position, also saw the fire and made a move to run over when the skipper stayed his arm.

"Let her go, Chief," he said. "If she needs help, she'll yell for it.

Raising a perplexed eyebrow at his captain, Sharkey however, said nothing as he turned back to the charts.

Engineering," Lee continued, still watching the woman, "finish collecting reports, then get back to me," he ended, stowing the mike. Glacier, he observed, was handling the fire like a seasoned pro, just like she had berated him for. With a few more spurts from the nozzle, the flames were extinguished. Suddenly the incident in the Stella's land-based lab came slamming back to him. Feeling guilty in the way he had treated her, Crane bristled, shoving his remorse aside. Right now, Seaview came-"Oh, hell… Glacier!" he yelled.

Stella had her hand on the blackened panel searching for more hot spots when Crane's voice cut through her like a pistol shot. Hearing someone race to her side, she fearfully glanced over. It was Crane. Expecting a berating she cringed, but to her surprise, the Commander unceremoniously snatched her hand, dragging her to the Radio Shack. There, a second fire had erupted on the communications board.

Pulling her in front of him, he aimed her towards the flames. "Fire away," he instructed into her ear. Doing as ordered, Stella raised the red can and within seconds, the fire was out.

With his hand still on her forearm, Lee could now feel a pang of shame burrowing into his consciousness-maybe he had gone a little over the top in the lab that day.

"Without communications we'd be…" he trailed off, his brow crinkling as he looked around the deck. Over by Sonar, Sharkey was helping Patterson with the dazed Sparks; applying pressure to the handkerchief that covered the radioman's profusely bleeding head wound.

"Sharkey-" was all Crane got out when Seaview's power died, plunging the deck into yellow emergency lighting and causing the 9,000 ton-plus submarine to drop like a stone.

Throughout the sub, emergency backup systems came on as everyone scrambled to cling onto something secure and, for a second time that day, Lee Crane found himself fighting his way to the plot table. This time, Stella was right behind him.

"Helm! All back full!" * Crane shouted, fighting his way to the plot table for a second time that day. This time, Stella was right behind him.

"All back full," returned Langevin, signaling Maneuvering.

"Stern, elevate all planes!"

At the table, both held on, while under their feet, the boat leveled out, rocking precariously during its now horizontal descent.

Balancing as best he could, Crane took mike in hand, as Stella, fearful and unsure what to do next, went forward, hurriedly attached herself to the circular stairs.

"Engineering, wha-" a hard lurch threw Lee to his knees, his splaying arm ripping the mike from the table.

At the stairs, Stella was hit with a shower of cold water as the pipe above her head broke, opening up with a loud hiss. Reaching up, she started to shut off one of two water control values when Crane appeared by her side to shut off the second one. Facing each other, Lee mentally checked off his options, at the same time giving her a quick, grateful smile. Stella, feeling her stomach tighten, frowned, looking away.

At Radar, Kowalski surveyed the happenings in the Control Room with a tight expression. Having signed on with the Nelson Institute shortly before Seaview had been completed, he was among the first to set foot on her finished deck. Since that time, he'd been asked to do many things, and as one of the sub's senior, and more experienced, crewman, he had been able to surpass the bounds of rate without serious consequences; often with much gratitude from Nelson and his other superior officers. Ski knew this was one of those times. Abandoning his station, he ran to the Fathometer. There, his heart stopped-the five hundred feet below their keel was disappearing fast!

Grabbing the handset from the communications panel above Sonar, Ski hit the ship-wide PA button, and yelled into the set: "BRACE FOR IMPACT! We're gonna hit!" And from experience, he knew just how hard. With an arm and leg, Ski pinned Patterson and Sparks against the Periscope Island, then cringed as he braced for impact.

Hearing the warning, Crane gripped the staircase with one hand, flinging the other around Stella's waist and gripping her tight, a mere split second before they hit, the heavy jolt throwing them to the floor.

Seaview tilted first one way than the other, the pressure on the hull causing her to groan, but then she remained silent-and immobile.

Jumping up, Crane anxiously scanned the deck, while helping Stella to her feet. "You all right?"

"Yes," she said, checking herself, but by then Crane was gone.

Bolting to Periscope Island, Crane whisked off the handset: "Conn to Damage Control, report!"

"Water-tight integrity intact, no damage reported, Skipper." Despite his relief, there was fear in the crewman's voice.

"Then what the hell happened?"

"We don't know, Skipper. We weren't notified of any-"

"Engineering to Conn…" broke in the overhead squawk box.

"Engineering, Conn, this is the Captain."

"Skipper, several of the men are ill including Chief Sontag."

Lee recognized the shaky voice as Hood, one of their newly promoted junior officers.

"Chief Sontag had some sort of hallucination, thought we were flooding, and used the chicken switches to shut off the Hydraulic controls. There was nothing I could do."

Crane closed his eyes. Sontag shut off the seawater-piping system! "Very well," he replied, taking a deep breath. "Get the men to Sick Bay then stand by for further orders."

"Aye, sir."

By cutting the water that cooled the machinery Sontag had caused the propulsion plant to shut down, Lee summarized, listing all his options. It'll take hours to get the reactor and generator completely on line again, and we can't do another emergency blow because there isn't enough air in ballast to do a second EMBT.

Opening them again, Crane ran both hands through his dark hair, glancing at the worried Sharkey, who had finally been able to join him.

"Seaview's on the bottom," the captain said as they watched Ski help the conscious but disorientated Sparks out the aft hatch. "But at least she's not damaged," he added, trying to be encouraging.

"Yes, but how many men do we have left to keep the Lady moving?" the anxious Chief asked, scanning the room.

Reacting to the immediate crisis, Crane hadn't had time to take in the entire situation. Now studying the room, he was stunned by what he saw: only a third of the stations were manned, and those crewman present were either helping others who were sick and injured, or were falling ill themselves.

"You've got the Conn, Chief," Crane announced soberly. "I'm going to Sick Bay…."

# # # # # # # # # #

In the medical center, Crane found Doc leaning precariously at his desk. "Oh, no, not you too?" he groaned, his hope evaporating.

Pale and sweating, the ill man continued furiously scribbling in a notebook. "It hit me right after you left. I've written down everything I know which isn't much, but it's vital for you-for anybody-to find out what it is."

"All I need is a minimum of six men to maneuver her," Lee told him hopefully.

But Doc shook his head. "You're better off staying where you are."

"The closer we get home-"

"Men are dropping like flies, Captain! You lose those last few men at the wrong time, and you could find yourself going flank speed into the continental shelf, or worse, nose-diving five thousand feet below crash depth. Is that what you really want?"

A hard look came to Lee Crane's eyes. "If we do stay put, it'll take three days for a rescue ship to get here. We could all be dead by that time! I have to get her moving!"

"You have to find out-"

"Nobody's going to find out anything unless I can get enough men to move Seaview off the bottom!" Crane snapped more out of fear than frustration.

"You don't have enough! If they don't already have it, then they'll come down with it in a matter of hours!"

"Doc…" Crane pleaded.

"Captain, listen to me. There is something you can do."

"What? Anything!"

"Get Doctor Glacier to help you."

"What?"

"She's the closest thing to a doctor you have, and you'd better get her on it immediately. Nobody has died yet, but if we can't get a handle on this thing then nobody's leaving here!"

With dread, Lee knew it was the truth.

He hurried to the Control Room, and after rapidly scanning the deck, sprinted to Sharkey at plotting.

"Where's Doctor Glacier?"

"I don't know, sir," he said, trying to pinpoint their location a second time. "She left without saying a word."

"The lab…," Crane muttered as he took off again, calling to the man behind him: "You still have the Conn, Sharkey."

-/-/-

Stella, paler than usual, took a tray full of beakers from the sink area, her shaking hands causing the glassware to rattle loudly. Pausing to brush a stray hair from her mouth, a faint movement by the doorway drew her eye. Turning, she saw Brianna's image. Her heart jumping to her throat, Stella dropped the tray just as Crane came charging through the door, the man stopping short at her startled look.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," he said sincerely.

Embarrassed, afraid, and not wanting to deal with him, Stella instead, clenched her teeth and said nothing. Purposely ignoring him, she spun on her heel towards the counter. There, she snatched up a dustpan and brush, kneeled down and began sweeping up the shattered glass.

"Let me help," Lee offered, crouching beside her.

"I don't need your help," she snapped, pushing his hand away.

Crane's hazel eyes narrowed. Taken aback by her blatant animosity, Lee refused to be intimidated. Remaining where he was, he deliberately studied her with overt intensity as she stubbornly continued to pretend he didn't exist.

"Come to read me the riot act for being in the Control Room, Commander?" she finally demanded, her expression taut.

"No," he said, his voice dead calm as he straightened. "I came to ask for your help."

"My help?!" she sniggered, throwing the broken glass onto the tray with an agitated fling. "Tell me another joke."

"Haven't you seen what's going on around here?"

"Crane, outside of today I haven't been out of this lab in two days! Everything else was declared off-limits per your orders, remember?" Shooting to her feet, she dumped the glass in the trashcan, giving the tray a careless toss onto the counter.

"Ninety percent of my crew have come down with some illness."

"So?" she sneered, pulling slides out of a drawer.

"The doctor has it!" Vexed by her callousness, Crane seized her forearms, forcing her to face him. "The whole medical crew… Chip Morton, Riley, Patterson! They're all down with it!"

"So what's that got to do with me?"

"I need your help to find out what it is."

"Are you crazy?!" she snorted. "I'm not a doctor!"

"No, but you're the closest thing I have to one! You have to help me or else men could die!"

Swallowing, Stella's mind raced, going over what minute medical training she had had. But throwing a glance beyond Crane, confirmed what she feared. The small figure was still there, cooing happily at her. Feeling her knees weaken, Stella closed her eyes to block out her baby daughter.

"I can't," she choked out.

"Why not?!" he demanded, his eyes ablaze.

"I… just… can't…."

His cheeks flaring, Crane pushed her away. "Then we're all gonna die." Spinning on his heel, he was halfway to the door when shattering glass made him whip around. Stella, her face distraught, had swept one end of the counter clean of everything on it.

"I can't help you!" she yelled, "because I have it too!"

"What?" Crane hurried back to her.

"If this illness consists of hallucinations, then I've got it too," she repeated, looking towards the door where Brianna lay. "Damn it!" Whirling away, she clapped her hands on the counter, shutting her eyes tight. "I keep seeing my baby, but she's dead! I know she's dead! Yet I can still see her plain as day." Then raising her head, she turned to face Crane, her face full of regret and sorrow. "How can I help you when all I see is my dead child?"

Suddenly alarm broke out on Stella's face, her arms flaying wildly as down became up, up became down, and gravity pulled her towards Earth.

In that split second, Crane reached out, ensnaring her in his arms, her left cheek missing the floor by mere inches.

"Doctor?" Steadying her in his embrace, Lee's surprise and alarm mounted as Stella clung desperately to him. "Doctor Glacier?"

"Uncle Harry?" Her head lolling, Stella looked at him with disorientated eyes, then Lee felt her go limp.

-/-/-

His mind deep in thought, Lee Crane sat statue-still in the metal chair, waiting as minutes passed at a snail's pace and precious time evaporated. It was only ten minutes since he'd carried the unconscious Doctor Glacier to Nelson's bunk-the closest quarters to the laboratory-but it had seem like an hour ago, leaving him to wonder just how much time they had left.

On the bed, subtle movement caught his attention. Glacier's hand twitched, then raised and fell, followed by her eyes blinking erratically.

Forcing them to stay open, Stella, confused, unsure and finding herself in Harry's cabin with a cold washrag on her forehead, stared questioningly at Crane.

Without a word, Lee stood. Going to the desk, he pushed the intercom button. "Crane to Conn... Chief, are you there?" His composure was oddly placid.

"Conn, Sharkey here."

"Update, please."

"We've lost five more men, including Kowalski. Per your orders, I've contacted Admiral Nelson at the Institute and filled him in with what's going on. A rescue ship is on its way as we speak."

"Good. Thank you, Sharkey," he said solemnly.

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking, what's our next move?"

"I'm working on a long shot now," he said, eyeing the scientist, "but it's a very long shot. I'll be up in a few minutes to talk to you, until then, tell the men to relax and-"

"Ah, sir, there's only two of us here now."

Crane contemplated the information, then, mustering all the confidence he could, he took a deep breath, replying, "The two of you relax and do the best you can."

"We will, sir."

Feeling somewhat normal again, Stella forced herself to sit up, dropping her aching head into her hands.

"How do you feel?" asked Crane, approaching.

"I've got a piercing headache, and this whole thing feels like a bad dream."

"It's not, I assure you."

Biting back a retort, Stella, hearing the sharpness in Crane's voice, looked up at him, noticing the tight, worried look in his hazel eyes.

Feeling her eyes studying him, Lee took the washcloth from her hands. Going to the sink, he ran it under cold water, then returned it to her.

"There's, ah, aspirin in the cabinet over the sink, if you wouldn't mind," she asked, placing the damp rag back on her head.

Silently, Lee did as she asked. Handing her a glass of water, he opened the bottle, offering her two of the tablets.

Taking them, she downed them with the water. Lee took the bottle back to the cabinet. There, Stella observed him downing two for himself.

"Just how bad is it out there?" she asked as he came back.

"Ninety-eight percent of the crew is now ill, and Seaview is still sitting on the bottom. Doc gave me his notes, explaining what he could in the short time he had to do it in. Unfortunately, that's all we have to work with right now."

"Go on, I'm listening." Closing her eyes, the biologist pressed the cold cloth against them, the Commander's earlier comment still fresh on her mind.

"He suspects it's a foreign microorganism that was somehow brought onboard. He had preliminary tests done on Seaview and the men; Seaview so far is clean, so it's nothing she herself is carrying. He had just started testing the men when he too came down with it."

"Did he say what type of organism it is?"

"No, he never got the chance to finish the testing, but the symptoms don't belong to any known disease he's ever heard of, or seen before. That far he did get."

Dropping the cloth, Stella's eyes were large. "He's never seen before?"

"Yeah," Lee nodded, noting her intense reaction. "Why?"

Her thoughts spinning, Stella slid her legs off the bunk. "The other day when I went out in the mini-sub, I found a black coral I've never seen before. At least I thought it was black coral until the live tissue fell off, then it resembled a tube worm, but it isn't."

"What is it then?"

"I don't know I still haven't figured it out yet. Think maybe there's a connection?"

"Only one way to find out. Let's go take a look at it."

Her eyes meeting Crane's, Stella's face filled with concern. "My medical training is little better than yours, you know," she said softly. "I might not be able to help you at all."

His gaze locked on hers, Lee could see the doubt in her eyes, but he also saw something else-determination. "I know," he said, understanding her fears for he has felt it many times himself. "But it'll take days for the rescue ship to get here, let alone set up quarantine; in that time, this thing could kill us all. We have to give it a try, even if we can give the rescue ship nothing but leads."

Biting her lip, Stella nodded. "I agree, and that's why I'm gonna help you any which way I can." Standing, her knees buckled and again would have fallen had Crane not grabbed her.

Feeling her thin body tremble, Lee's alarm skyrocketed. Hesitant about releasing her, he had no choice as Stella, her cheeks turning pink, pushed away from him.

"I'll do it, Captain, but on one condition," she said, a quiver in her throat. "I want somebody with me at all times. If I start hallucinating, I want someone there to bring me out of it. I don't care who it is as long as there's someone. Is it a deal?"

His eyes again on hers, Crane gave her a single, grave nod. "It's a deal. Let's do it." Offering an arm for her to lean on, Stella ignored it, determined to make the short journey to the lab on her own power.

-/-/-

Entering the lab, Stella pointed to the white enamel tray on the left far counter. "There." Hurrying over, the woman's mouth fell to the floor-there was nothing left of the magenta tube but pink mush.

"No, no, NO!" she exclaimed. "Impossible!" Grabbing long handled tweezers, Stella searched the mush for something to salvage. "Damn it!!"

"What is it?" he asked baffled, observing her stabbing the flaccid contents that resembled mashed potatoes. "What's wrong?"

"This is the specimen."

Lee's jaw dropped to the floor. "That! What happened to it?"

"I don't know! Dendronepthya collapses when-"

"Soft coral…" Lee said, receiving a surprised look from Stella, to which he gave a slight shrug. "When you're around Admiral Nelson, you pick up some things."

"You're right, it's soft coral. Soft coral has no hard skeleton and will collapse when exposed to air and even attitude changes, but-"

"But you said you've never seen it before?" said Crane, confused.

"I haven't! Originally it resembled scleractinians-"

"… black coral…"

"Which is also known as hard coral. But once the live tissue fell off, it looked more like a tubeworm, only smaller. The casing, the worm's home, is directly related to hard coral, yet it totally dissolved, which is a characteristic of soft coral, but it had none-none-of the characteristics of soft coral!"

"Do you have any more of it?" Lee asked, his mind racing a mile a minute.

"Only a small branch and it's not big enough to do the massive testing we need to do on it."

Hurrying to the refrigerator, Stella brought out the smaller tray, showing him the five-inch piece within, raising a questioning eyebrow at his strange expression. "What is it?"

"Your symptoms," he explained, "they're gone."

Surprised, Stella's eyebrows folded in contemplation. She then held her hands out in front of her. They were steady as a rock. "You're right. So's my headache. I feel… quite normal at the moment, like I'm cured."

"Is it possible?" Lee suggested hopefully, but Stella adamantly shook her head. "No, this has to be only temporary. Whatever the reason, let's take advantage of it and get started with what research we can do."

"What do you want me to do?"

"If you have a camera onboard, take pictures of it, and then," she handed him the specimen tray. "Try to find 'it' in the marine journals. While you're doing that, I'm going to try an record as many of its vitals as I can before this piece turns to mush."

"Done, but we're going to need re-enforcements for this…." Already on his way to the P.A. system, the mike was in his hand a second later. "Crane to Control Room, Sharkey are you there…?"

-/-/-

Still seated at the laboratory's slate counter sometime later, Lee Crane flipped through a thick, hard-covered book, while beside him Stella Glacier was in rapt concentration over the microscope, peering up periodically to make a sketch on the notepad at her fingertips. After taking a square-inch slice, Stella, afraid of what the heat of the lights would do to the subject, had returned the rest to the refrigerator.

"Damn it!" Crane exclaimed, thrusting the hardback at the pile of books he and Sharkey had gathered earlier. "I've scoured every marine resource material we have onboard, and I haven't seen anything that even remotely comes close to that coral."

"Nothing comes close to this coral," Stella stated patiently, contemplating the object on the slide. "I'm thinking it could very well be an unknown variety. The more we're in the ocean, the more new life forms we discover every day." Looking up, Stella blinked her tired eyes several times. "Uncle Harry still might be able to track it down though."

"Have you discovered anything new so far?" he asked, massaging his neck muscles.

Stella frowned deeply while writing down her findings. "Only that I've never seen such an unstable specimen in all my life. The cells keep shifting out of focus making it hard for me to get a clear look at it, and what I do see, I have to be mistaken because it looks like Holobasidiomycetes, uh,…fungal spores. The cells resemble fungus."

"Unbelievable!" Lee didn't know a lot about marine biology but he knew enough to appreciate what she had just told him.

"I know," she said, excitement in her voice. "I don't know if this is a new hybrid species or-"

"Here's the personal records you asked for, Doctor," announced Sharkey, entering. In his arms was a foot-high stack of accordion folders. Going to the end of the counter, he dropped them next to the marine books.

"Thank you, Chief." Raising her head and arms, Stella flexed her stiff neck and fingers. How's the blood collecting going?"

Even with a casual look, both men could tell the woman was exhausted. Her face was drawn, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

"I'd gotten samples from the five severest cases when you asked for the records, Doc. I'm gonna go collect the rest now from those who are still standing. When you want them, let me know, I've got 'em in Sick Bay's refrigerator," he grinned shyly, "just so they wouldn't get contaminated by… it..."

"Good thinking, thank you Chief," she replied with an approving nod.

"Well, you know where to find me if you need me," he said, making for the door.

"We'll do, thanks, Sharkey," said Crane, pulling a new book towards him...

"Ah, Chief?" Stella then called out, swiveling around on the stool.

"Yes, Doctor?" Sharkey halted by the door.

There was apprehensive on her face. And fear. "How's it going out there? Truthfully?"

Unsure how to answer, Sharkey hesitated. He didn't really want to tell her the truth that Seaview sounded like a grave, but… Then remembering who and where he was, he squared his shoulders, giving her a haughty smile. "We're still hanging in there, ma'am. One of Cookie's assistant's is still on his feet and I've told him to do up a big pot of coffee, and keep it comin'."

A shadow of relief crossed her face. "Okay," she sighed, then: "Thank you," before returning to the microscope.

"Anything else, Skipper?"

"Yeah, hold up, Sharkey." Crane turned thoughtfully to Stella. "You look tired, why don't you go get some sleep."

But Stella O'Toole Glacier did what she had done consistently since they started working; shook her head, refusing to leave not even for coffee.

Impressed by her perseverance, at the same time with guilt surfacing over his prior misjudgment of her, Lee frowned deeply. Kowalski's statement about Glacier burying herself in her work when she was upset had also begun to dig at him. After her Crane-induced apology to Nelson, the woman had made it clear she was going to follow Crane's orders to the "T", and thereafter, confined herself to the lab, her cabin, and the missile room, going so far as to take her meals in her room. The crew confirmed to him later that she'd scarcely spoken to them since that day.

Lee hadn't approved of her behavior, considering it childish at the time, but now reluctantly recanted, acknowledging what he thought was rude stubbornness was, in truth, die-hard determination. When Stella O'Toole Glacier believed in something-right or wrong-she put everything she had into it. He had always admired that in a man, but it was a trait he had not found in any other woman before now.

Still, she was pushing herself too hard. Even if they did survive this, he was fearful of what effect this extreme behavior would have on her overall health.

"No one else has come down with it in the past two-three hours," Lee urged again. "I think we're safe for a while, and you need the break. Why don't you go back to Nelson's cabin and get some sleep."

"No," she flatly answered.

Behind her Sharkey raised an astonished eyebrow. No one said 'no' to Captain Crane.

"Excuse me?" Crane asked, his tone challenging.

"I beg your pardon," replied Stella, not looking up, "… no, sir,"

Behind her, Sharkey swallowed a chuckle as Crane cocked an incredulous eyebrow at her. "Okay," he said, firmly crossing his arms, "now I order you to your cabin."

Her head against the lens, Stella held up her left hand, singling out her ring finger. "Do you see your wedding ring on this finger, Commander? Nope… Sharkey?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, coming to full attention.

"Is a store near here?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Bring me several blankets, please?"

"Right away, ma'am." Giving Crane a dubious shrug, Chief started for the door.

"And what are you going to do with the blankets?"

"I'm going to bunk down in here, that way I'll be close by if you need me."

Crane gave a shallow nod. "That's what I thought. Compromise accepted."

"Well, it would be a lot easier than carrying me to and from the cabin each time, now wouldn't it?"

Not liking the sarcasm, Crane frowned, letting it go. But there was one thing he couldn't let go.

"Um, before I… forget," Lee started, wetting his throat. "I want to thank you for your help in the Control Room today. That was a nice maneuver, releasing Bushnell the way you did."

At the scope, Stella stiffened. "My ex-husband was a submariner," she said dryly. "When they had the Tiger Cruises, naturally I would go along. It was the only time my being Admiral O'Toole's daughter and John Glacier's wife was an advantage for me because the captain would let me do pretty much anything I wanted on his boat, and I loved the helm."

Lee heard a joy in her voice that made him grin. "I've never heard of anyone loving the helm before," he said. "Why?"

Cocking her head to look at him, Stella wore a mischievous expression. "The captain may give the commands, but the helm…" her smile got bigger, "we take her left, we take her right, we control the speed," Stella's eyes were sparkling, "All that power in my hands… even the most expensive sports car can't beat that! If a woman were allowed on a sub, that's the job I'd want!"

Seeing Stella joyful for the very first time since he's ever known her, Lee's own smile grew. He was pleased that there was actually something that could make the staunch scientist happy. Which reminded him of another thorn in his side.

"Harry really does love you like a daughter, you know," he ventured, trying to break the awkwardness he now felt.

"I love him, too," she said, returning her eyes to the lens, her voice warm and sincere, "and I have every intention of apologizing to him, a real, heart-felt apology, when we return to port."

"When, not if?"

"And leave this discovery for someone else to claim? Not on your life!"

The sound of footsteps in the hallway drew Lee's attention.

"It's Sharkey," said Lee.

On cue, Sharkey stepped through the door, his arms laden with pillows and blankets.

While Stella finished her notes, Sharkey and Crane set up an improvised bed. When it was done, Crane went to Stella's side, crossing his arms like a waiting parent.

Admittedly too tired to argue for once, the biologist allowed Seaview's captain to help her to the makeshift retreat.

"You okay?" Lee asked, worried.

The woman nodded, albeit looking paler than she was a minute ago.

Kneeling beside them, Sharkey held out to her a glass of water and two aspirin tablets.

Giving him a shaky grin, Stella gratefully took the water, quickly swallowing them both. "Thank you," she said with a slight quiver, handing him the glass. "Promise me you'll wake me at the slightest discovery," she insisted with some concern.

"I will," Lee promised. "Anything you'd like us to do while you're asleep?"

"Yes, find more aspirin," she jested, massaging her forehead. "Seriously, study the personnel records of the crew. Look for something they all have in common... vacation spot, favorite eatery, allergies, that sort of thing. And I don't suppose you know anything about blood?"

Lee chuckled. "Let's just say since joining Seaview I've gained a lot of knowledge in the medical field. Get some sleep, Sharkey and I can handle it from here."

By the time Crane and Sharkey returned with the rest of the medical files, the exhausted scientist was asleep.

# # # # # # # # # #

"Brianna!" Stella screamed out, causing both men to jump. She had been asleep for the past hour and hadn't made a sound till then. "Brianna… oh, honey…" she sobbed, her eyes still shut.

Crane was by the woman's side in a heartbeat. "Doctor Glacier, wake up," he said, gently shaking her shoulder. Receiving no reaction, he shook her harder, filling with alarm when she still wouldn't rouse. Glacier's slumber seemed closer to a coma, and if he couldn't wake her….

"Come on, Glacier, wake up!" he demanded, but there was no response. Pulling her into a sitting position, this time Lee shouted: "Stella, come ON, come back to us!" As if hearing his command, her eyes flashed open. "Oh, thank God," Lee gasped. "You're on Seaview in the laboratory. Are you aware of that?"

"I… ah…" Lifting her head, Stella peered at him as if through a daze. "What's wrong?" she muttered weakly. Feeling something on her cheeks, she reached up, touching her tears. "I was crying?" she peered at him, confused. "I was dreaming of my daughter…."

"I know you were that's why I woke you up. You were having a nightmare."

Sharkey appeared, bearing a glass of water and aspirin.

Thirsty, the woman downed both in one, swift gulp.

"Feel better?" asked Lee, still concerned.

"Yes, I do, thank you. Help me up? I want to get back to work."

Reaching down, the two men lifted her up to her feet. Leading her to the counter, Crane let Stella go only long enough to push the stool closer to the work station and help her get situated.

"You okay?" Still unnerved, Lee's voice held a touch of fear.

"Yes," she said, her thoughts returning to their mission. "I feel like I'm walking in a dream. Mentally everything is perfectly clear, yet my body doesn't feel like it's entirely attached to my head. It's annoying, but easy to deal with. Other than that, I feel fine. I have to admit though," she said garnishing a pleased smile, "my ex wasn't even this attentive when I was nine months pregnant."

"Yeah, well, I'm not your ex," Lee said indignantly as he pulled the second stool closer to hers. Picking up a notepad from the counter, Crane held it out to her. "Sharkey and I started doing some tests while you were asleep. My human biology is limited, but from what I could find from Doc's medical books, the blood from those standing are…well… healthy. They look the way they're supposed to look."

"What about the men that are ill?" she asked, scanning the first page of the notes.

"Haven't compared them yet. I thought if one of us was on the verge of becoming infected, it would be best to record those characteristics before they deteriorated, or it became a full-blown infection."

"Great job," she nodded, clearly impressed. "For a pretty face you do know more than just jockeying a sub."

"Thank you." Crane then raised an eyebrow. "I think."

"Yes, Commander," she said her tone light, "believe it or not, that was a compliment, and somewhere deep inside, on my better days, I actually do have a sense of humor." Flipping to the second page, she bit her lip, turning serious. "Have you compared your own blood sample yet?"

"We were just about to when you woke up."

"How far on the personal files did you get?" she asked, looking toward Sharkey.

"Ah, not too far, ma'am," Sharkey confessed. "With Doc's handwriting, and all the medical jargon, it's kind of hard to read."

"Please call me Stella, everyone else does," she said absently; then threw Crane an uneasy glance upon remembering his previous orders.

"I'll try to remember that, ma'am." He, too, glanced uncertain at Crane.

However, the Captain either hadn't heard her or was ignoring it for his gave no countermand.

Looking over page three, Stella's expression deepened. "Of those men still on their feet the cells do look quite healthy," she reconfirmed.

"Yes," Lee said.

But to Stella, his voice sounded different, more strained. Looking over, her heart skipped a beat. Crane was rubbing his temples.

"Headache?" she asked, eyebrows folded in concern.

"Yes, unfortunately."

"All right, let's take our blood." Abruptly she slid off the stool, going to the cabinet where the medical kit was kept. "I'll need those for comparison. In the meantime, Chief, keep reading."

"Aye, aye, ma'am," he replied, already scouring the latest crewman's record.

Rolling up his sleeve, Lee followed the woman's every move as she prepared the needles. All her thoughts were trained on that one, crucial task. Lee grinned at himself, realizing that he was, not only curious about this woman, but also genuinely intrigued. And with Stella's mind thoroughly preoccupied, he knew this was as safe a time as any to study her without-hopefully-any repercussions.

Right now she was all business and concentration. Remembering being surprised earlier by her resilience, Lee mulled over the many models and flight attendants he'd dated and could not imagine any of them handling this as optimistically as Glacier had.

Studying her from head to toe, he also wondered how much she weighed, for she was feather-light when he carried her to the cabin. It suddenly occurred to Lee that he had no idea what her figure even looked like because, to his memory, it had always been hidden under a lab coat, or obscured by the loose crew uniform.

Or I just never cared to look, he confessed to himself.

Approaching, Stella began washing Lee's arm with iodine, still oblivious to the fact that she was being studied; something Lee was enjoying very much since he'd never been this close to her without their getting into an argument. Wearing no make-up, her complexion was pale but smooth, complimenting her dirty blonde hair, which in all the turmoil, he had forgotten was quite long, and entwined in a braid ending near her waist. Nor did he know what color her eyes were because they were always too busy arguing for him to pay attention.

From the other side of the counter, Sharkey glanced up, doing a double-take. The skipper was staring at Doctor Glacier with a look he'd never seen on him before. Suddenly feeling like a third wheel, the serviceman conspicuously cleared his throat as he stood up. "I think I'll go get us all some more coffee."

"Thanks, Chief. I think we could use it," Crane said, watching as Glacier withdrew blood from his arm.

"Be back in a jiff." Sharkey spun to leave when Crane called out, halting the man in his tracks: "Oh, and Chief? Could you also bring Doc's comparison microscope from Sick Bay?"

"You mean that big monstrous contraption?"

"Exactly."

"Yes, sir," he replied over his shoulder, disappearing out the door.

"How are you at handling needles?" Stella then asked. Picking up a pen, she labeled Crane's vial as he held his arm up to stop the minute bleeding. "I'd like a sample from myself."

"I've been known to handle my share," joked Lee, lowering his arm so she could apply the Band-Aid, afterward rolling down his sleeve.

"Well, just so you know, I hate 'em." Frowning deeply, she rolled up her own sleeve, giving the designated area a quick sterilization. Handing Crane the needle, she held her arm out to him, already grimacing as she looked away.

Lee bit his lip to hide his laughter, finding it funny that with everything they'd been through so far, it was the needle that scared her the most. Taking Stella's wrist to steady it, he then thought how easy it would be to enact a small bit of revenge at this moment, but reminding himself he was an officer and a gentleman, he buried the idea. Within seconds, the vial was filled.

"It's done," he said, losing the grin so she wouldn't see it.

Disbelieving, she looked up in amazement as Lee covered the injection area with a cotton ball, then raised her arm. "Incredible. I felt no pain at all."

"Told you I had experience," Lee simpered. "What do you want me to do next?" he then asked, releasing her limb.

"You look tired, why don't you grab a few minutes of sleep?" she suggested, putting a bandage over the insertion area then turning her attention to the slides.

"No," said Lee casually, making himself comfortable at the counter, flipping open the next record in front of him. "Somebody has to be in charge, even if there's nobody left on the boat to be in charge of. Besides, as a sub jockey I'm used to going without sleep."

Stella grinned. "You could be in charge of a toy boat, Captain, and still do better than most officers I've met."

Lee himself broke into an amused smile. "Two compliments in twenty-four hours, I'd say this fiasco was worth that alone."

"Yeah, well, now you know how sick I really am," she retorted with a mischievous grin before burying her head into the scope.

Feeling the emotional tension drop between them, if only temporary, Crane mulled over a question in his mind. Wanting to ask it, yet afraid of the answer, moreover fearful he may never get another chance, Lee drew in a long, deep breath. "Is it true what you said?" he asked, choosing his words carefully. "That your father never listened to you after I talked him into sending you away?"

Raising her head, Stella's gaze fixed on the wall in front of her. "Yes," she said, her words measured, "it is. Dad loved you as the son he never had. After you joined his staff, all he could see in me was a silly little girl who didn't know what she wanted, or what she was talking about. So when you suggested I be sent away for my own good, he jumped at the chance. He said it would make a lady out of me," she said acidly, returning to the lens. "I guess the laughs on him."

But her bravado didn't fool Lee, not this time. He had seen the pain on her face. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, regretting what he'd done more than he ever thought possible. "I never realized…."

"It's not all your fault," she sighed. "Part of the blame belongs to me. I should have been born a boy."

"I'm sure your father doesn't feel that way."

"Yes, he does," she frowned.

"At least you had a child out of it. Doesn't that count for something?"

Stella raised her head as a pensive smile came to her face. "More than anyone will ever know."

"Since seeing you again, I've often wondered myself why your father had you sent so far away. I suggested banning you from the boat, not sending you all the way to Chicago, although," he said with a knowing glint, "I doubt if banning you would have done much good anyway. Nevertheless, there you were a willful little girl turning into an attractive teenager onboard a ship of wolves. Something could have happened to you and it was my job to make sure that it didn't."

Taken aback by his words, Stella cocked her head at him. "Had I known your reasons than maybe I wouldn't have hated you so much." A painful grimace shot across her face.

"Headache?" Lee's concern jumped. "Or are the symptoms coming back?"

"A little bit of both, I think. The specimen is beginning to look out of focus to me. Or maybe it's the lens," she shrugged, "I don't know."

Crane slide off his stool, coming beside her. "Here, let me have a look."

Leaning aside to give him room, Stella became uneasily aware of their proximity. No more than a foot from her, she could smell the remnants of his aftershave. Forget him, she ordered herself. There are more important things to worry about right now, like getting out of here alive.

Peering into the microscope, Crane, too, had a problem with focusing. No matter how he adjusted the sharpness knob, the article on the slide always looked blurry.

"It's not you, Doctor." Straightening up, he turned towards her. "Something else is going on with your wayward specimen. I think this sample's beginning to break down."

"If it is somehow related to fungi, it could have become airborne," she offered, biting her lip in thought.

Mulling over her theory, Lee solemnly nodded, his eyes on hers. "That would explain how it infected the boat so fast, through the air system. But why did it wipe out most of the crew, and not all the crew?"

"I don't know." She gave her head a thoughtful shake. "There could be a thousand reasons."

There was no anger or hatred on her face now, Lee observed, gazing at her features. Only the stark seriousness of a dedicated scientist.

"Such as…?" he asked. Intrigued, he took a step closer.

"Blood type…" Stella's eyes were still on his.

"What else?" Her eyes are hazel, he realized.

"Genetic make-up…" Stella replied, her voice soft.

So soft Lee had to lean closer to hear her.

"Go on." Her lips are chapped. Probably from all the time she's gnawed on them.

"Anger level…" Stella wondered if the warmth she felt was from the disease or if the room was getting stuffy. His eyes are just as beautiful as I remember them to be….

"That's a lot of factors to consider," he said drawing nearer to her. Maybe if she didn't worry so much…

A hair-breadth away, Lee closed the gap when the door suddenly slammed open. It was Sharkey. His eyes glued to the tray so as not to spill the drinks, he didn't see the couple jolt apart.

"It still remains, Doctor," feeling himself redden, Lee ran a hand over his chin, "why only a fraction of the crew and not all?"

The unsuspecting Sharkey set the tray on the counter, handing out the hot mugs to his companions.

"Again, Commander, it could be anything." There was clear regret in her voice. Regret that was replaced a second later by professionalism. "We need to start looking at the blood for answers. Chief, did you bring…"

"Doc's high-tech microscope?" he finished, frowning. "No, ma'am. Doc must have been using it when he fell sick. It hadn't been properly secured, and well, it's all over the floor now, Skip…," scrunching up his face, he gave a big sneeze, garnering concerned stares from the two.

"It's just a slight cold, Skipper," he fired off to Crane's reproachful look at disregarding a standing order. "I know what the Doc said, but-"

"A cold?" Stella's brow folded in thought, then her hazel eyes shot wide. "A cold!" Grabbing the first file on the counter, she flipped through its pages while the two baffled men watched on.

"What are you thinking?" Crane asked, encouraged by her excitement.

"Chip Morton hasn't been ill in months," she announced, holding up the XO's file, "and he was one of the first ones to go down. Commander, go through Kowalski's file and see if it mentions anything about a cold."

Pulling the file out, Crane quickly did so as Stella continued scanning the next file in the stack: "I just got over one two weeks ago. I may not be exactly healthy, but I'm still on my feet…" her voice trailed off.

"The Skipper just got over a severe cold not more than three weeks ago," Sharkey volunteered, his heart pounding with hope.

Crane shook his head, laying down the folder. "No mention of a cold in his file."

"Course not," Stella stated, "obviously because he didn't go to a physician about it-it was too mild for a doctor. But I know he was coming down with one because I heard it in his throat; and he was one of the last ones on his feet. Riley hasn't been ill in months either, he also went down early-gentlemen, pull any man's file whom you know had a cold recently, doesn't matter if he attended a physician or not."

Per her instructions, the two officers began sorting the medical records.

"What are you telling us?" Lee asked, praying she was onto a solution.

"What if 'it' has something to do with colds?" she said, putting another file on the 'no illness' stack. "Rather, something that's in the colds-or our bodies even-that's preventing the spread of this thing? Anti-bodies or the like?"

"A cold, ma'am?" said Sharkey, tilting his head at her.

"The common cold is one of our most complicated illnesses, Chief," Stella explained. 'It's made up of several viruses in hundreds of different combinations. That's why scientists have been unable to cure it so far. If physicians can't fight it, maybe this thing, for the most part, can't either. If nothing else, it's a lead," she ended hopefully.

"It's one hell of a lead," said Crane, feeling his spirits rise for the first time in days.

# # # # # # # # # #

For the next couple of hours the only sounds heard in the room was the gentle bubbling of the fish tanks, the subtle hum of Seaview's equipment, the turning of pages and the occasional comment as the diligent threesome delved into the records of all one-hundred and twenty-five men ship-board, including officers.

"Here's another one!" Sharkey shouted out. His grin couldn't have gotten any wider. "Lydecker was released from the hospital, cured of pneumonia, just two weeks before we sailed." His excitement and optimism was contagious. Everything that they had found over the last several hours had confirmed Stella's theory that only those who recently had colds remained, for the most part, unaffected.

On the wall behind them, the video screen flickered to life, revealing the figure of Admiral Nelson. "Lee, Sharkey?" he called. "Are you there?"

Jumping to his feet, Lee gave Stella an appraising glance. Reassured that she was okay for now, he hurried to the video screen.

Hearing Nelson's voice, Stella's throat tightened as guilt, shame, and regret flooded through her. Closing her eyes, she silently berated herself: she knew how Harry felt about her father. She had known it since she was a little girl that Harry, in fact, despised her father! Yet in her hurt and anger, she had somehow forgotten….

At the screen, Lee saw Nelson exhale with relief. "You're all right." But there was no missing the anxiety in his eyes. "As of today, your coral doesn't exist. Not anywhere in the known world. Have you made any progress since the last time we talked?"

"Yes! Stella may be onto a lead. She thinks antibodies produced while fighting the common cold might stop this affliction... We don't have any solid proof yet, but-"

"Hi," Stella greeted timidly. Thrilled to see him, she felt her eyes filling with water. "Uncle Harry, I want to apologize-"

But Nelson waved her off. "Now we'll have none of that, Stella, m' girl," mimicking his Irish brogue. "Anything you have to say can wait till I see you again-when I see all of you again!" A wet glint had come to his own eyes and a proud smile to his face.

"I love you, Uncle Harry," she said, her heart wishing she could hold him just one last time. "I mean that."

"I know you do, child. I love you, too. Now get back to your duties so you can come home sooner."

"Aye, aye, sir." Raising her hand, she blew him a kiss before disappearing out of sight line.

Lee's heart swelled at the affection between the two, but it couldn't match the ecstatic smile on Harriman Nelson's face. The Admiral had his niece back.

No sooner had Stella reached the counter when great waves of exhaustion washed over her and she felt her knees buckle.

"Captain!" she shouted, fear gripping her throat. The now-familiar symptoms had once again reared their ugly head. They'd also been getting worse, more realistic, with each reappearance.

Lee came running to her side.

Heavily leaning on the counter and swaying noticeably, Stella's face was covered in sweat.

Turning her towards him, Lee found her face blanch, her eyes dull. "All right, concentrate," he instructed sternly, hiding his own fear. "Look at me, follow my hand." Holding his hand up in front of her, he moved it side by side, but Stella's attention, no matter how hard she tried, kept meandering to the tiny child lying on the floor. "Come on, follow my hand!" he ordered.

"I'm trying," she said, her strength waning. "But you should see her, Lee, she's so beautiful-" Crane's slap came sharp and loud.

"Skipper!!" Sharkey barked, jumping to his feet, stopping when he discerned the fear and alarm on the Captain's face.

Having no choice, Lee still hated himself for it. Taking her chin in hand, he turned her head, examining the damage. He hoped the slap wasn't hard enough to leave a bruise. "You all right?" he asked, his worried eyes linking with hers.

Stunned-and not knowing whether to be angry or grateful-Stella blinked several times before nodding. "Yes," she said, massaging her reddening cheek. "The hallucination's gone, but I think you knocked my jaw out of place."

Crane's eyes went wide. "Does it hurt?"

"Captain-"

"I'm sorry, I was only-"

"Lee!" she snapped over his sputtering apology. "I was only kidding. But it did the trick. I'm fine. I can focus again. You'd better go talk to Uncle Harry before he gets the wrong idea." Sitting down, she once more studied the slide under the lens as Crane returned to the videophone.

"Hallucinations?" the older man asked.

"Yes. Anyway, that's all we have so far."

"Well, it's a lot better news than when you first called me. Has anyone died?" Harry asked, his expression grim.

"One man," Crane replied, matching Nelson's tone. "But according to his records, Doc had just diagnosed him with diabetes, and thinks that contributed to it more than anything else."

"The rescue ship should be there by tomorrow morning. If you can just hang on till then…" Nelson's thoughts trailed off.

"I know." Crane nodded, "And we will. I'll call you if anything new develops."

"See that you do," Nelson urged, flashing him a reassuring grin. "Nelson Institute out."

But Lee knew, deep down inside, Harriman Nelson was just as terrified as he was.

-/-/-

Hours later, the motley threesome could hardly keep their eyes open, but did so, nevertheless, pulling their strength from the importance of their success-or failure.

Soberly, Stella raised her head from the microscope, rubbing her tired eyes as she handed a beaker to Crane.

At the end of the counter, Sharkey stood up, stretching out the kinks in his back.

"Sharkey," said Lee, his thumbs massaging his neck, "you have any more of that aspirin? My head feels like its going to split." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stella wince.

"I'm fresh out, Skipper. We went through all I could find in the infirmary."

"Check my cabin desk. I think I have a bottle there."

"Aye, aye, sir," he said, disappearing out the door.

"Thanks, Chief," he called after him. Lee then turned to the scientist. "Stella, are you having hallucinations again?"

"No, but you should be soon," she said dully.

"What do you mean?"

"Your splitting headache, that's one of the symptoms."

"But I thought-"

"The cold acted as a temporary block, Commander, it wasn't a cure, and we've been breathing in massive quantities of the stuff."

"But a headache's all I hav-"

"In reading the medicals," she perused, "I've discovered each person who came down with it exhibited different symptoms. Some experienced hallucinations, others vertigo, others headaches… some experienced several symptoms while others nothing at all, they just dropped! I suspect as well that retardation depends on the severity of the cold; therefore, it was only a matter of time before you and Sharkey came down with it anyway."

Lee's heart was racing-the woman was paling by the second.

"However, and I sincerely apologize for this, I was… stupid and blind on one other obvious fact." Slowly, her shoulders began to droop.

Afraid Stella would fall over, Lee stood, taking her in his arms. "And what was that?" he asked, she felt even lighter than before.

"Aspirin and antibiotics… that's why we were able to last so long."

"Stella…." he said, his words catching in his throat. Not only was she paling, but sweating profusely. Feeling her head, Lee felt his knees go weak. "You're burning up! Why didn't you tell me?"

Seeing Crane's alarm, Stella gave him a faint, grateful grin. "I'm sorry, Lee, if I hadn't been so intent on finding out what it was… get yourself and Sharkey on antibiotics immediately."

"I'll get some for all of us," he said, "You'll be fine." Seeing her doubt, he gave her an encouraging smile. "At least you're calling me captain now. Or Lee. I'd say that's good progress."

"What was wrong with 'commander'?" she asked, in a near whisper, her strength waning.

"The way you said it, it sounded more like a curse."

"It was meant to," she said, flashing him a mischievous grin, replaced suddenly by a look of terror. "Lee, get us out of here, please? As much as I love the ocean, I really don't want to die down here."

"I promise you," he said, squeezing her hand, but she had already slipped away….

# # # # # # # # # #

T A G

Harriman Nelson and Lee Crane waited by Stella Glacier's hospital bedside, tension and fatigue etched on their faces as minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into days. The death-white Stella had yet to show signs of emerging from her catatonic state….

Haunting shadows of orange and yellow hues from the setting sun lay solemnly on the white walls when the still form emitted an unexpected groan, causing both men to jump.

In a heartbeat, the worried Nelson was beside her. "Stella?" the Admiral asked eagerly. "Can you hear me?"

Blinking her eyes open if only a brief second, Stella groggily nodded, her words coming out thick and hoarse. "Yes… I hear you, Uncle Harry."

Grinning relieved from ear to ear, Nelson threw a ecstatic glance at Crane, who's expression matched Nelson's own.

"The anti-biotics worked!" Harry announced, pulling her braided long hair from under her shoulder so she could turn her head easier. "You're in the hospital in Santa Barbara. You scared the hell out of us! The doctors weren't sure you were ever going to wake up," he explained, concern still evident in his voice. "And just so you know, everyone's going be fine."

Her eyes still closed, Stella managed a brief yet satisfied smile, while inside her heart was doing back-flips. "Great," she responded in little more than a whisper. Her eyes then shot open, wide with alarm. "Lee? Is Lee all right? He was beginning to-"

Stepping over, Lee took her hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm right here," he smiled, his eyes locking with hers. "Seaview's in port and almost everyone's on their feet again, thanks to you."

"Oh, thank God," she sighed, gazing fondly at him.

"They're all okay and enjoying extended shore leave," Harry went on.

"Good." Although deeply relieved and savoring her moment of endless pride, Stella could not fight the fatigue any longer. "What about the coral?" she asked, letting her eyelids drop. "There was just a little bit left, have you figured out what it is yet?"

"No." Nelson shook his head with disappointment. "We kept it in a pressurized, sea-water tank the whole time during transport to the surface, but the instant the sunlight hit it, it disintegrated, leaving not one trace. So, for now, I'm afraid your coral is going to remain one of life's little mysteries."

"Like hell," she muttered. "Just wait till I get out of here."

"Hey," said Lee, giving her hand a gentle shake to get her attention.

In addition, Stella, forcing her lids open, was more than happy to give it to him.

"Get better soon, and when you're out of here," he smiled, their eyes meeting once more, "I'll take you to the most expensive restaurant in town."

"It's a date," she grinned, her spirits already rising….

The End… Not Quite Yet. . . .

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