HOME

by KT Weltch

The headlines declared him a hero, again. His picture was in the center of the article; the four stars on his shoulders gleaming in the flash of the camera. But for the moment he sat at his desk, his head in leaning in one hand and the other tapping a pencil in an impatient rhythm on the desk. For forty-eight hours the world had held its breath, wondering if Admiral Harriman Nelson could pull it off again. Whether people perceived him as hero or enemy, it seemed that the only reaction that the earth's most famous military presence didn't create was indifference. When Nelson's face graced the front of the papers, the public always knew that the crisis was of global proportions.

This time it had been no less terrifying. A mad man had created a new energy source: an electromagnet that had been created to give the planet a nearly free source of energy; but instead had nearly destroyed it by affecting the orbit of the moon itself. After attempting to silence Nelson's objections by discrediting him with a false murder charge, he had activated his invention. The shift in gravitational pull, had caused massive tidal waves and earthquakes that destroyed the lives of thousands. Nelson's name had finally been cleared and his reputation had been restored. The crew of the Seaview had destroyed the magnet, but it would take years to repair the damage.

The tides were once again back in their place, the earth safe. And there was a crowd of reporters waiting for him now, outside the gates of Nelson's Institute of Marine Research, even as his pencil tapped it's irritated beat. He threw down the pencil, picked up the newspaper that his secretary had placed on his desk and tossed it into the wastebasket. Sometimes it seemed that the notoriety of the headlines overshadowed the true mission of Nelson's Institute. How often did the research and discoveries that the Seaview and her crew brought to the world make the front pages?

More personally, how often did they allow for Nelson and his crew to simply be human beings? The media's thirst for new headlines made it difficult to step away from the sensational and into the normal. It seemed that every time he stepped through the gates, there were bulbs flashing and questions being asked. He was sick of answering questions made by people that simply wanted him to place the blame on someone. The same way they had placed the blame on him only days before.

His intercom interrupted his thoughts as his secretary announced the arrival of his captain, Lee Crane. "Tell him to come in," he said, leaning back in his chair; his features lightening with pleasure. The Captain of Seaview was Nelson's best friend, a younger colleague that seemed more family than co-worker. "Lee, I thought you had left for vacation hours ago, what are you still doing here?"

Lee laughed, his dark eyes sparkled in his handsome face, and "I could say the same of you, Admiral. I thought maybe I needed to bring the bolt cutter for the chain that has you tied to this desk. Aren't you suppose to leave for two weeks, too?"

The admiral smoothed his hand over the side of his hair, a totally unconscious habit that always told Crane that he was upset about something. It was one of Nelson's many habits that were an indication to someone that knew him exactly what his mood was. He smiled a little ruefully, "I'm not quite sure where to go. My sister's away now and well...to tell you the truth, finding a place where I can get away right now might be a bit difficult."

The captain smiled and nodded, "It is a nice picture, Admiral."

"Right," his voice dripped with sarcasm.

Crane smiled again, "Well Admiral, I think that we have a solution to your problem."

Nelson looked at him with suspicion. "We?"

Lee nodded, "Chief Sharkey and I were discussing this situation after we docked. We tried to get Chip involved, but he wouldn't have a thing to do with it."

"He wouldn't, would he? I think I am beginning to sympathize with Chip's point of view; he's usually pretty levelheaded. Maybe I should listen to the voice of reason that is talking to me right now and run for the nearest gate." He leaned forward on the desk and rested his chin on his fist.

"Admiral, you can't mean you don't trust us..." Lee attempted a wounded look.

"With my life, Lee. But somehow, the words vacation, Sharkey, and trust don't stir up a lot of confidence in my mind."

"Actually I think that Sharkey has a decent idea. One of the problems you mentioned was finding a place to get away. You have to admit, Admiral, that your face has been well, er, visible lately." 

The admiral leaned back again and scowled, "I think that the less said about that the better."

"I agree, actually. The plan is to remove you so completely from the surroundings that the public is used to seeing you in, that they won't make the connection between Admiral Harriman Nelson and any Tom, Dick, or Harry."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

Lee beamed, "We're going fishing."

Nelson nodded and responded dryly, "Fishing. Not exactly an original idea, Lee."

Lee sat down in the edge of the desk and continued enthusiastically, "True, but the whole point is, to remove you from the background that the public is used to seeing you in. Sharkey has access to a pickup and camper..." 

Nelson's eyes narrowed, "What kind of access?"

Crane shrugged and studied his hands. "Well...actually it's his cousin's camper."

"Lee...Sharkey's cousin? Do you know how many and how unreliable some of Sharkey's cousins are?"

"Admiral, anonymity has it's drawbacks."

"So does discomfort."

Lee grinned, "We've known a little of that lately. So we rough it a bit. It will be just the three of us up in the high country, catching steelhead out of a cold stream, and eating the fruits of our labor. Not only do you get away from the hounding of the press; but also you get the peace and solitude that you need right now. What more could you ask?" 

The admiral rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, "Peace and solitude...I have to admit that does sound good. Where did you have in mind?"

The captain inwardly smiled; he knew he'd won. "The Cascades...they have streams and rivers that scream to be fished and lakes that can't wait to take a line. I think you'll be impressed, Admiral, I really think you will be impressed."

The sky was just turning a faint pink in the eastern sky as Nelson dropped his bag on the floor inside the front door. Lee and Sharkey were picking him up in less that five minutes from his bungalow at the Institute. Military training would insure that they would be on time, but the admiral had definite mixed feelings about this vacation.

Admittedly, it would be a relief to put the Institute out of his mind for a few days. The stress of being pursued for murder charges and in turn having to save the very people that had accused him had affected him more than he wanted to admit. Especially to Lee Crane. Lee tended to be a little over-protective. A fact that at one time was very reassuring to the older man and another time irritating; primarily when the captain placed himself in between his admiral and the current danger. There was no way that he would damn his friend for his loyalty.

On the other hand, he wondered if it were actually possible for him to relax. It seemed he was always wound tightly with a new idea, a current solution, or a final wrap-up. He hoped, for the sake of the two men that were trying so hard to get him out from under the load of responsibility, he didn't blow their expectations.

He heard the noisy sound of the sanitation truck outside in front of his home. He needed to make a note to the sanitation department to have those diesel trucks tuned up. The noise was irritating and had awakened him on the mornings when he had actually been home to hear them.

He leaned over and pulled back the drapes to look out into the street and froze. Parked in the street before his house, instead of the expected sanitation truck, was the ugliest pickup and camper he had ever had the misfortune to see. It rumbled like a diesel, putting out a hazy blue smoke from the back. It was a faded beige color from front to back. The camper was an overhead, in a dirty white with a matching beige stripe down the side.

Nelson's eyes widened as Lee Crane opened the passenger door and stepped out onto the curb, wiping off the front of his jeans and unconsciously tucking in the back of his red plaid shirt. Crane looked over his shoulder and shook his head in dismay. His expression equally reflected the same dismay as he walked toward the Admiral's front door.

As the admiral opened the front door, Lee's face froze in a comical combination of surprise and guilt. "Good morning, Sir. We...your...ah..."

"... chariot awaits?" Nelson finished for him, leaning against the doorframe with folded arms.

Lee glanced over his shoulder, "Well, it's almost that old. But it's not as bad as it looks. The inside is really pretty nice and you have to admit, no one will associate you with this sort of transportation."

Nelson pursed his lips and eyed the vehicle belching out the blue haze in front of his home. "That is true Lee, I wouldn't even associate myself with this kind of vehicle."

Lee's sigh drew his attention away from the vision of a few of his colleagues watching him drive away in this pickup. "It really isn't that bad inside, Admiral. Apparently, Sharkey's cousin is more concerned for his comfort than public opinion." Nelson felt himself beginning to relent at the look of entreaty on Lee's face. It was obvious that his captain knew him well as he began to smile. "Besides, we've stayed in worse."

Harry reached behind him, picked up his bag and tossed it toward Crane; before leaning his case that carried his fishing rods against the house and locking the door. "I've certainly been tied up in worse places." He eyed the camper suspiciously, "Speaking of tied up, is this thing secure?"

Lee grinned as he stowed the admiral's bag in the back, "Sharkey's cousin assured us that except for burning a little oil, it wouldn't give us a bit of trouble. It's not like we have to take it below crush depth, you know. Relax Admiral, this is a vacation and we can handle any little problems that could come up. Seaview's engines are a lot more complicated than this." Lee's voice of reason and the sight of Sharkey's face beaming at him from behind the steering wheel of the old pickup stilled any further protest that Nelson had. It was entirely possible that the sense of foreboding that hung over his head was due to the fact that he was in a situation that he had no control over. It wasn't easy for him to yield the reins, even for the short-term. As he settled into the surprisingly comfortable seat, he forced himself to relax and simply enjoy the companionship of his two friends. Lee was right, he did need rest; sometimes saving the world was extremely tiring.

They arrived at the small town of Pines just as the sun was lengthening the shadows of the foothills at the bottom of the Cascades. The mountains still wore their winter dressing, glistening white under a few lingering clouds on the horizon. The town of Pines was, indeed, a small community. A grocery store, two cafes and a service station made up the main businesses on the main street through town. But looking through the pines and aspens, one could see a few other establishments along some of the side roads. They parked the Beige Bombshell, as Lee had named the camper and pickup, outside of the first café they came to. They weren't the only pickups outside the eatery. A German Shepherd in the back of the vehicle closest to the passenger side came one link short of a launch attack as Nelson closed the pickup door. He could hear the dog in the back of the battered Ford on the other side making noises at Sharkey. Lee glanced over his shoulder and pointed to the sign taped to the back window under the hunting rifles, Protected By Smith and Wesson. Crane laughed uneasily as the dog lunged at him. "I wonder where it keeps the holster."

"Somewhere behind the canines, I think." Sharkey said from the front of the pickup. "The only thing that's keeping its friend in on the other side, is its good intentions."

"It's nice to know that their intentions are good." Lee responded as they moved around the front of the rigs and entered the café.

The inside of the café was paneled in knotty pine with dark red vinyl bench seats on each side of the tables along the white curtained windows. A blue haze of cigarette smoke drifted in the air above them as they slid into one of the booths. The waitress set three glasses of water before them and slapped menus on the table. She pinned each of the men to the table with a cool eye and told them the special. Five minutes later she was back with a pad and pencil. They each ordered the special and before she could turn to go, Lee caught her eye. "I'm told that there are some pretty big steelhead being taken from some of the rivers locally. Any good advice?"

She looked at him with raised brow and looked over his shoulder to the booth in the corner; where a group of four men sat drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. "John, where's the best fishin'?"

A tall red-faced man dressed in a Deputy Sheriff's uniform that had a definite 'end of the day' wrinkle, answered, "Who wants to know?"

"These fellas, up for the fishin'," she thawed enough to offer a slight smile, "John is the best fishin' guide this side of the Cascades. You follow his advice and you'll catch some fish." She moved aside and allowed the Deputy to take her place beside the table. He held out his hand to the Admiral, "Name's John Hopper."

The admiral took his hand and responded, "I'm Harry..." he hesitated for a brief second, "Smith. These are my friends, Lee and Francis. We've heard that this is the place for a vacation getaway and thought it would be nice to take home some fish stories." He glanced across the table at the two men sitting opposite, both watching him in stunned silence.

The deputy nodded thoughtfully, "You've come to the right place, boys." He pulled a napkin over to him and, pulling a pen from his pocket started to draw a map. "This is the way to some of the best fishing hereabouts, so you keep it to yourselves. Especially those yahoos in the corner. You do need to be careful though, with the heavy snow pack this year, the rivers are running high. In fact if it rains in the high country, they can rise pretty fast." He shoved the makeshift map toward Nelson.

"We'll be sure to be careful Deputy, thank you." 

"No problem, Mr. Smith. Welcome to Central Oregon."

Nelson kept waiting for him to add, 'And Drive carefully', but the man just smiled and rejoined his companions at the other table. Lee leaned forward, "Smith?"

The admiral grinned, "I thought you wanted to remove the Admiral from his background. I'm just trying to keep him buried."

"You sounded as guilty as an escaped convict, I'm surprised he didn't ask for ID. At least you didn't introduce one of us as Jones."

Nelson raised both brows and grinned, "Now why didn't I think of that? Would you pass the sugar, Sharkey? Lighten up Lee; we're here to have fun, remember? If he asks for ID, we'll simply give it to him and ask him to not say anything. To quote you, Relax." He folded the napkin map and placed it in his shirt pocket. There wasn't too much he enjoyed more than throwing Lee slightly off balance. Even in the control room there were times he'd left the Captain of Seaview and Chip Morton, her Exec, looking at each other in astonishment. A trick he'd never grown tired of over the years. For the first time, in a long time, Nelson realized that he was actually enjoying himself.

They made camp under tall and stately Ponderosas, within earshot of a fast-moving river. The sound of the gurgling water was a lot different than the ebb and flow of the ocean, but it was soothing and Nelson began to relax as they set up camp. If only this feeling could be bottled up and taken in regular doses aboard Seaview. On second thought, he'd probably forget to take it. There were times that it felt like he would break under the pressure, at times only one thought away from disaster. Lives would hang precariously by the thread of a single idea. He knew that the fact that the Admiral has an idea was like a gasp of relief throughout the entire submarine in times of uncertainty. The knowledge would become so great that he would run shaking hands over the sides of his hair, snap pencils, and flair in brief and turbulent rages that blew over those around him with stunning force; a necessary steam vent in a pressure cooker personality.

He glanced up at Lee Crane, working with Sharkey to set up camp. Lee understood. When he had chosen Lee to be his captain, he hadn't realized that he had found the one person that would understand him. Oh, the admiral knew that Sharkey loved him, they all cared about him. But Sharkey and all of them still held him in awe; they remembered gold braid and the stars. Lee respected him, but he didn't hold him in awe. Nelson smiled as he thought back to the times that Lee braved the storm of Nelson's anger with a storm of his own; and the times that he backed down, when he read his admiral's heart. Yes, Lee understood.

He pulled his tackle box from the back of the Beige Bombshell and pulled the cases out that held their poles. "You boys about finished? We might have time for a fish or two before dinner." He opened his tackle box and pulled out his wallet and put it in the bottom of the box. His sister had gotten him a new wallet for his birthday and it wasn't in the comfortable stage yet. He had known at the time that it would be an uncomfortable thing to get used to, but hadn't wanted to hurt her feelings by not using it. He had already left it in the office twice, absentmindedly leaving it on the desk where he'd tossed it. It was safer to stow it where he knew it was safe. For all the scientific problems that he was required to know the answers to, he could be incredibly absentminded. 

He didn't have any trouble convincing the other two that it was time for fishing. The had picked a level clearing for their camp, but the way down to the river was steep and covered with brush and occasional fallen timber. It didn't take long for them to spread out along the rocky bank and cast their lines in the rippling water. 

Nelson set his feet in the rock and secured his tackle box a short distance away; near enough to reach easily when he need it. He allowed his mind to drift along with the current, mentally reviewing the last few weeks and considering future plans. After a few minutes he noticed that the deputy had been right, the river was rising. Apparently the clouds that were hanging over the mountains when they had arrived in the tiny town of Pines had dumped some rain, melting more of the snow pack.  

After a moment he heard Lee yelling something at him, but the sound of the water over the rock streambed obscured the words. He cupped his ear to indicate that he couldn't hear him, when Lee frantically pointed at Nelson's feet. With a sinking feeling he looked around him. There was his tackle box, caught in the current of the fast moving water like a rectangular float, bobbing up the river. 

Nelson wedged his pole in the rocks and started after the box, running alongside the bank of the river. Bitterbrush and fallen branches caught at his ankles as he tried to keep the box in sight. His breath came in gasps as he leaped over fallen timbers and skirted tangled underbrush. Finally he came to a downed Ponderosa with a trunk that reached half way to his waist. He was attempting to throw his weight over when his foot slipped and he landed in the brittle branches on the other side. He heard the fabric on his shirt rip and felt the skin scrape on the thick bark of the old tree. 

He was pulling himself to his feet, when he heard the sound of Lee and Sharkey pushing their way through the brush. "Admiral," Crane pulled at a branch that had wrapped itself around Nelson's waist like the tentacle of a wooden octopus, "are you alright?" 

"Yes," the admiral hissed through clenched teeth, "I'm fine, just...just fine. I'm not sure when I've felt better. In fact, words fail me." 

Lee and Sharkey blinked back in astonishment. Nelson leaned forward on the gnarled trunk and observed Lee looking him over in concern. "Are you sure you're not hurt? That was a nasty fall."

"Except for leaving the skin on my arm on the side on the tree, I'm fine. No, let it be. It's not worth bothering about. What really infuriates me, is that my tackle box is on its way to the ocean and there's not a thing I can do about it!" 

"Admiral," Sharkey responded in soothing tones, "if you're concerned about fishing gear, we can share..." 

The admiral bent his head over the log and expelled a deep breath of exasperated laughter. "It's not the gear, Sharkey, it's the wallet that I put in the bottom of the box. My wallet, ID, money, everything. My sister bought me the blasted thing and it's so uncomfortable that I take it out of my pocket every chance I get. I thought it would be safe in the tackle box." 

"Maybe it will have caught up somewhere down stream, we'll find it." Lee's voice brought his head up to look his friend in the eye. 

He saw the concern in Lee's face and smiled at him, "Maybe. But, we'll have to look in the morning; we haven't much light left tonight. We'll follow the river tomorrow. Now, gentlemen if you will help me over this stinking tree, maybe we can make our way back and see how many of our poles this river ate in our absence. It looks like hot dogs tonight!" 

bbbbb 

Morning's light was just a glimmer on the horizon when the admiral awoke. He could hear the sounds of movement outside the camper. There wasn't any sound at all inside; obviously the other two intended to let him sleep for as long as possible. He slipped into his clothing quickly enough; the inside of the camper was like an icebox. The outside wasn't any better. Ice crystals swelled the damp soil around the old pickup, crunching under his feet as he moved over to stand beside the fire crackling in the middle of the camp. 

"Morning, Admiral," Sharkey's cheerful voice called to him from the supply tent they had set up to hold the camper's overflow. "There's coffee on the fire and cups on the table. We had a little wind last night. One of the tent pegs loosened up." He held up a long stick and pulled his knife from his pocket, as he walked over to join the admiral beside the fire. "Thought I would improvise." 

"Um huh," the admiral grunted in return as he poured his cup full of steaming coffee. 

"As soon as I finish this I'll start some breakfast. Nothing like a full stomach to start the day," Sharkey settled down on a camp chair and began to sharpen the stick. 

The Admiral glanced at him, "You know Chief, this is a vacation, you aren't required to do all the work. I think we are all able to fix ourselves something for breakfast." 

Sharkey paused and smiled a self-depreciating grin. "It's no problem, Sir. I didn't think I was brought along to do all the work." His grin widened. "We could have brought Kowalski along for that." He went back to pulling long pieces of wood off the stick in front of him.  

"Where's Lee?" 

Sharkey's knife caught in the stick and he frowned with the extra effort. "He's collecting some more wood. He'll be back..." He looked up at Nelson at the same moment that the knife broke through the stick in his hand. It slipped around in his fingers and buried itself in the top of his leg. His eyes met the Admiral's in shock as he pulled the knife out in quick reflex. Nelson dropped his cup as he watched the blood drain from Sharkey's face and caught him as he pitched forward. 

He laid him out on the icy ground, opened the rip his pant's leg and stuffed his handkerchief in the opening to apply pressure. "Chief...Sharkey!" Nelson shook his head; it was much too cold for Sharkey to stay where he was. 

Behind him he heard Lee drop the armload of wood he was carrying and asked in alarm, "What happened?" The icy ground crunched with the sound of the captain's hurried steps. 

"Lee...good. Sharkey cut himself. We need to get him off this ground, but I would much rather he do it under his own steam. See if you can bring him around, while I apply pressure to this. It looks like it went pretty deep."  

Sharkey was already beginning to stir when the captain knelt beside him. He helped him sit up. "Take it easy, Chief," he murmured, moving around behind him to give him support.  

"What happened?" Sharkey looked with a frown at the admiral. 

"You cut yourself Chief, then fainted. Not going to be sick on us, are you?" Nelson checked under the pad to see if the wound had slowed down it's bleeding. 

"I don't think so. But Sir, I don't faint!" 

The Admiral grinned, "You did this time, Francis." 

The color was beginning to come back into Sharkey's face, now glowing a faint pink, "Not over a little cut, Sir. I've done worse aboard Seaview cleaning the torpedo tubes." 

"Don't worry about it, Chief. It was the sudden shock. I've seen pretty strong men go down in the same circumstances before. Now, we need to get you in the pickup and into town. I think this will need some stitches." They eased the chief to his feet and steadied him for a moment before helping him limp toward the Bombshell. "Sir, I don't suppose we have to mention this back home, do we?" 

The Admiral glanced at him in amusement, "Chief, if you don't mention my wallet, I won't mention your leg. How about it, Lee? You be for us, or against us?" 

Lee smiled as they helped Sharkey slide into the middle of the front seat. "Mums the word, Admiral. No one would believe me anyway."  

bbbbb 

They found a local doctor's office on a side street, tucked in behind the veterinary clinic. Apparently bleeding customers had preference over the other bored patients glaring at them as they were ushered through the waiting room. The other two men settled down in the outer room. Their unshaved and tousled appearance caused a few side-glances among the others.  

Nelson tapped his foot in irritated monotony and scooped up a magazine on exotic locations. After a few minutes of reading he frowned. He'd been to most of these places and he couldn't remember these places as being anything like the descriptions on the pages before him. He could recognize some of the photos, but the natives weren't near as friendly as described. In fact, they were down right dangerous at times. Maybe exotic meant that the readers could never check up on it anyway. He threw the thing down in disgust.  

A little boy of about six was rolling in and out of the chair, which reminded him that he need to make a minor adjustment in the ballast system when they got back aboard Seaview. The main thing it reminded him of, was why he appreciated the fact that he very seldom needed to wait. One of the perks of his position.  

He looked over at Lee, who looked like he was in some deep inner contemplation. The admiral smiled in affection. He wondered if Lee even noticed the speculative looks that a couple of the younger patients had given him when they walked in. His captain was like a fine ship cutting through an ocean of female admiration. But then, there wasn't too much that couldn't be admired about Lee Crane. Nelson was proud of his choice for Captain of Seaview and for a friend. 

After about an hour, Sharkey came limping up to the desk. The doctor was behind him, a dour faced man with white hair and permanent frown lines. The admiral and captain joined him. Nelson looked at Sharkey and addressed the doctor. It was a habit that he'd picked up in SickBay from years of dealing with crewmembers that constantly down played their injuries.

"How is he, Doctor?" 

"Who are you?" the doctor asked abruptly. 

Nelson frowned, "A friend. I take it that he's fine." 

The old physician looked him up and down. "Yes, he is. He says he cut himself sharpening a piece of wood. I suggest if you're his friend, you keep him away from knives. I don't have a lot of patience with this kind of incompetence."

The admiral could feel his face begin to burn as he listened to this short speech. It was obvious this old man was the only doctor in this area and felt he ruled the roost. "Let me explain something to you, Doctor. This man IS competent. The knife caught on the wood and slipped in his hand." He leaned forward and rested an elbow on the counter. "If you don't like this, I suggest that you..." 

"Er Ad...I mean, its okay, Sir. I don't think that it's important enough to, you know, get upset about. I was pretty clumsy. The Doc here stitched me up and gave me some pills to take. Everything's okay." He glanced nervously at the doctor huffing beside him. He leaned toward the Admiral and whispered loudly, "Sir, if it all the same to you, I heard all of this in the back and I would just rather get out of here. The whole idea was for you to get away from every thing and well, I think we should just get away. From here...Sir." 

The admiral nodded slowly, glaring once more at the doctor. "Alright, if that's the way you want it, Francis." 

"That's the way." The chief smiled at the fascinated receptionist behind the counter. "If I could have my bill..." 

They left through a silent room full of interested patients. The Captain grinned, "I'll bet there will be some talk at the cafe tonight." 

The Admiral grunted his reply, still annoyed with the old doctor. Across the street he noted the location of the Sheriff's office. He wondered if it would be a good idea to stop and ask them if anyone had turned in his wallet, but at the moment he was too irritated to carry through with the thought. Maybe next time they were in the little town of Pines, he would so just that.  

bbbbb 

The sun was straight overhead by the time they made it back to camp. The wind had picked up again and the overflow tent was flapping in the breeze. Lee looked disgusted. "Just fix one leak and another one starts. I think this camp is below crush depth, Admiral. You want to pick up stakes and head for safer waters or stick it out?" 

The admiral chuckled, "I've never thought you were faint-hearted before, Lee. Let's batten down the hatches and stay for the duration. Sharkey! You leave that tent alone." 

The chief was limping in the direction of the tent. "Sir, it's my fault that the tent isn't secured." 

Nelson took hold of his arm and steered him toward a camp chair. "If you come right down to it, it's my fault that we're here at all. You were both trying to help me relax. So let's not place the blame anywhere. Now, you sit here and Lee can secure the tent and I'll get some soup. There's a camp stove in the camper isn't there? The chief nodded. "Well then, I'll get us some soup. I do fend for myself once in a while, you know."  

After lunch the admiral and captain hiked downstream to see if the errant fishing box had caught up anywhere. The chief stayed behind and rested. After a futile search, the two men returned to camp. They were both ready for coffee and a sandwich. It was no surprise to Nelson that Sharkey had lunch all laid out for them in covered containers on the camp table. A quick check inside the Bombshell revealed a snoring chief, finally resting from the morning's events. 

They were halfway through their meal when they were hailed from the underbrush. The owner of the voice was a tall, thin man with dark brown hair and one of the biggest mustaches that Nelson had ever seen. It looked like he might have been smiling; it was hard to tell with the thick growth above his upper lip.  

"Afternoon! Catch many fish?" His voice had a nasal quality that made Nelson mentally cringe. 

"Not yet, but we haven't been here too long. How about you?" 

"No, but I'm not here to catch fish. Name's Baker." He held out his hand and shook the Admiral's and then Lee's. 

"I'm Nelson," he nodded to the Captain, "and this is Mr. Crane. Is there something we can do for you?"  

"Probably not. Some of the fellows and I are helping the local law around here. Been a bank robbery in the city north of us. Doesn't happen too much around here, so its really big stuff. I was in the Sheriff's office when the call came through. 'Peers that the men were in our little town at least twice. Had lunch in our little restaurant, right with one of the Deputies there. Wouldn't be surprised if there were the ones responsible for the killin' to the south of us last year. Never got solved, you know." 

The Admiral shook his head, "You don't say." 

"Yup. This time they'll get caught, you mark my words." 

Lee cleared his throat and said, "You're the first person we've seen in here, so I don't think we can help you, Mr. Baker." 

"Didn't think so. Well, you be careful. If you see anything you let someone know." The other shook his head and twisted his lips in what might have been a smile under the mass of hair on his lip. "You have to hand it to these guys, they have a lot of guts. There's three of them, you know. Seems one of them got stabbed in the robbery, or maybe they was fighting, or something. Came into town to the Doc's place, right across from the Sheriff's Office in broad daylight. They was talking about get aways and insultin' Doc. Poor old man almost had a coronary right there. Not too smart though, one of them called himself Mr. Smith to the Deputy." Baker laughed out right. "Poor John will never live that one down! Three bank robbers in his hand and all he gives them is a map back here. That's why we're lookin'. Not that I really think they'll still be here. Probably wanted to throw every one off the trail." 

Nelson and Crane looked at each other on stunned silence. At that moment Sharkey exited the camper, yawning and looking distinctly cranky. He limped over to the table and looked at their guest. Baker's mustache was twitching in rapid activity. He began to back away slowly, the teeth he showed was an attempt at a smile. "In fact now that I think of it, they are probably long gone now. Not that you would know, of course. I don't know either. Nothin'...I don't know nothin'... you know? Haven't seen nothin, or heard nothin', don't know nothin'." He turned and sprinted toward the underbrush that he had come from earlier. 

Sharkey scratch his head in bewilderment, "What's his problem?" 

The admiral set his cup down on the table slowly, spilling a little over the side. "It seems that it makes him nervous to talk to bank robbers." 

Lee added, "And killers." 

The Chief sat down next to the Admiral at the table, looking back and forth at the other two. "What are you talking about?" 

Nelson ignored Sharkey looking directly across the table into Lee's troubled eyes. "This is ridiculous. We've come full circle. I seem to draw these accusations like Mason's magnet. This time its robbery as well." 

Sharkey leaned closer. "Robbery? What robbery?" 

Lee never took his eyes off the admiral. "Admiral, we'll head straight to the Sheriff's office and clear this up. As soon as he realizes exactly who you are..." 

Nelson interrupted his friend, "What shall I do Lee, show him my ID? Maybe we can call ahead and have Chip pick it up where the river meets the sea." He ran his fingers through his hair, loosening up the curls that the wind had already been picking at. Sighing, he said, "You're right, of course, we'll have to turn ourselves in. You and Sharkey can prove your identity. If all goes well, maybe they won't think that 'Mr. Smith' has been holding you hostage in the mountains, making you rob banks." 

Beside him, Sharkey ground out in exasperation, "Would someone please tell me what is going on?" 

The admiral picked up the cup from the table and tossed the contents out into the brush. "Francis," he shook his head, "I have come to the conclusion that we're rats in a laboratory. Someone has dropped us into a maze that is one big circle and all we can do is chase our tails." 

"What?" the chief was clearly puzzled. 

Nelson smiled at him in genuine affection, "Don't worry about it Chief. We'll explain it on the way. Lee," he pushed himself up from the table, "fire up the Bombshell. I don't think that it will be long until our friend with the extraordinary growth on his upper lip comes back with reinforcements. I would rather find the Sheriff ourselves. It might be safer than the local version of a fired-up posse."

The gears on the Beige Bombshell ground with irritable frustration at the inconvenience of Lee's down-shifting as they worked their way up a steep incline in the mountain road. The old machine worked like an elderly man, huffing and puffing up the hills, groaning in respite as they topped the peak and started down the other side. 

The admiral looked out of the window and listened to Sharkey's protests. "That's just plain stupid. How could they think that we've robbed a bank and killed someone? Do we look like bank robbers? Stupid!" 

Lee had a firm grip on the bombshell's steering wheel as it jerked over the ruts in the gravel road. He glanced at the chief, next to him in the seat, "It's a coincidence, Chief. There were three of them and we are three strangers in town." 

Nelson added, "Three strangers that have acted very suspicious. Mr. Smith," he snorted in disgust, "you're right, it is stupid. Of all the infantile..." 

"Admiral," Lee said, "you couldn't have known this would happen." He grinned, never taking his eyes off the winding road, "Besides, even admirals are allowed to have fun." 

Sharkey looked at him in misery, "And you aren't the one that had the knife wound." 

Nelson threw up his hands, "Alright, alright...it's nobody's fault. Let's just get into town and clear this mess up." 

They started up another incline and the Bombshell moaned again. Lee glanced into the side mirror. "We have company." 

Nelson leaned forward to look back in the passenger side mirror. He could see the rotating light of the Sheriff's vehicle rapidly closing the distance behind them. "Pull over, Lee. And gentlemen, when we get out of the pickup, make sure you keep your hands up. We don't want any unfortunate incidents." 

Lee pulled over to the side on a fairly level spot in the road. He and the admiral both opened their doors as the patrol car pulled to a stop several feet back. Lee's feet just barely touched the ground when they heard the sound of a weapon discharge from behind them. Both of the two men jumped back into the pickup as another bullet shattered the captain's side mirror. Lee slammed the old pickup into gear and gunned the motor. "They're shooting at us! The idiots are actually shooting at us! Don't they believe in surrender around here?" 

The admiral braced himself against the window frame as the pickup's motor labored under the strain of mounting the hill. The patrol car was right on their tail as they topped the rise and started down the other side. Lee kept to the middle of the road, Nelson couldn't actually tell if it was an effort to keep their pursuers from passing, or if Lee was having trouble controlling the lumbering old vehicle. "Lee, this is no use. We can't out race them in this. Pull over and we'll just wait in the cab until they come to us. Maybe they won't shoot first then." 

When Lee didn't answer, the admiral took his eyes off the mountain road and looked at his friend as he fought the wheel. He could see the tension in Lee's fingers as he gripped the wheel. "Lee..." 

"I can't pull over, there's no brakes." They rounded a curve in the road, throwing gravel into the small trees to the driver's side where the hill banked sharply upward.  

"What?" Nelson watched as the captain pumped the brakes. "Down-shift, Lee." 

The captain shifted into lower gear and they listened in growing horror as the old gears ground and clanged. "Doesn't work! Hold on, this is going to be rough!" 

They could see where the road flattened out and it seemed like a mirage in the distance. The Bombshell picked up speed in a sharp incline as they took another turn that hurled rocks into the pines. The admiral looked out the window on his side where the edge of the road ended in a drop that looked like the end of the world. Below he could see the sunlight glinting off of the river. He looked in to the side mirror and noticed that the Sheriff's car had dropped back, apparently deciding to let them kill themselves, rather than waste any more ammunition.  

The bombshell hit a rise in the road that launched them momentarily and rocked the camper on the back, confirming Nelson's earlier suspicions that the thing wasn't fastened on correctly. The old pickup rocked back and forth as Lee fought the wheel, his fingers white and sweat dripping into his eyes. "Lee, pull over onto the side of the road, into the brush. It will be rough, but it might help us slow down."  

Crane pulled over, inching closer to the brush and small trees at the side. The bitterbrush and new growth trees scraped under the pickup, making it buck like a live animal in Lee's hands. He jerked it back onto the road just in time to scrape past a larger tree, taking off the rest of the side mirror. He pulled over again into the brush. Nelson could see the determination in Lee's face and thought with pride that if anyone could drive this wild rig to the bottom, it would be his captain.  

The Bombshell was slowing, slightly. It seemed like they were going to make it as the incline lessened The scream of the brush scraping the under carriage continued as they headed into the last curve and started to slow. Nelson looked at the river again, this time to the side and not far from the road.  

The wheel jerked out of the captain's hand as the ditch deepened for a moment. Lee grabbed the wheel and pulled it sharply back to the road, too sharply. The camper on the back loosened completely throwing the pickup into a spin that threw them over the side of the bank. 

The sound of tearing metal filled the cab as the pick up rolled on its side in the dirt and rocks over the bank. Partway down the bank the camper tore the rest of the way off the back and was tossed off like a discarded shell. The pickup spewed around, heading top first into the river.  

In the silence, Nelson could feel the water beginning to fill up the cab, but he couldn't move. Sharkey was a dead weight, crushing down on him and pushing him into the water coming into the broken window in front of him. His arm was twisted behind him in an agony that spoke of broken bones and torn muscles. 

The pickup rocked and someone opened the door above Lee. A gruff voice shouted above the river's sounds, "Are you boys alright?" 

The weight bearing down on the admiral shifted, forcing a groan from him as his arm moved beneath him. Lee's voice sounded somewhere above him. "Admiral, Sharkey...are you alright?" 

Sharkey was lifted from him and pulled up through the open door. Nelson could feel the water coming up around his head as he felt Lee work his feet into the spaces next to him. "Admiral, we need to get you out of here, can you move?" He felt Lee's fingers on his upper arm tighten and pull at him. He turned his head and looked into Lee's frantic eyes. Blood dripped down his friend's forehead from a cut above his brow, smeared where he'd wiped it away when it dripped into his eyes. Nelson smiled weakly, "Lee...you made it. Only you..." He felt Lee's hand beneath his head, keeping it above the rising water as the world faded into darkness.  

When he came to, he was lying on the damp ground not far from the river. He could hear Lee's voice from above him. It sounded like Lee was shouting, but it took a few moments for the words to become clear. "... have your badges....Nelson, Admiral Nelson...THE Admiral Nelson. You have no idea what trouble is yet, mister...could have gotten us killed. Do you think that I could possible care that you have it all straightened out now? Do you think I give a bloody care that you're sorry? Get some help up here before I tear your throat out and feed it to the fish. Now!" The admiral felt tender hands cover him with a dry blanket and smooth the damp hair back from his forehead. "Lee?" 

"I'm here, Admiral. Don't move, your arm is broken and isn't splinted yet." His captain moved between him and the sun, his face tense and concerned. 

"Sharkey?" He felt someone touch him from the other side.  

"Right here, Admiral." He looked around to see the chief. "I'm okay. You're the only one that didn't have something soft to land on. Sorry about the arm, Admiral. And the Bombshell, I guess I'll have to have a talk with my cousin." 

Nelson nodded weakly, "I'll help." He looked back at Crane. "Are we under arrest?" 

Lee shook his head, "No, it seems that just after we started our trip down the mountain, they were called on their radio. They caught the real bank robbers in a county up north." He ended sarcastically, "They're very sorry." 

The admiral smiled slightly, remembering the tirade that he had heard above him when he came to. "If they aren't, I think they will be." 

"I think so too," Lee promised. "In fact, you can bet on that."  

bbbbb 

Admiral Harriman Nelson sat at his desk at The Institute, concentrating intently on the task at hand. There were actually quite a few tasks at hand, but the one facing him right now had priority over all. He had actually been thinking on this problem for awhile and had finally solved it at his sister's home last night.  

He extended his arm out as far as the cast on his arm permitted and reached back with the rounded head of the crochet hook to get at the itchy spot that had plagued him for days. He sighed with relief and mentally thanked his sister for having such a useful hobby.  

A knock at the door had him removing the hook and dropping it amongst his pencils. His secretary had gone home for the day, but he had been expecting his captain to stop by for the last few minutes. "Come in," He responded and pulled a paper full of figures toward him and picked up a pencil.  

Lee Crane smiled at him as he walked through the door. "Admiral, are you ready to go? I thought maybe I could persuade you to grab a bite to eat on the way home." He dropped a folder full of papers on Nelson's desk and pulled a chair over to sit in front of it. "Those are the figures on the ballast control refits. I pried them out of Sharkey this morning." 

"Good, I've been waiting for these." He glanced up at Lee, "How is Sharkey?" 

The captain sighed, "Still avoiding me. Every time he sees me his face gets red and he ducks out the other door." 

The admiral nodded, "I was afraid of that. Have him report to me in the morning, I'll have a talk with him. Wouldn't you know that Sharkey would try to take all the blame for our little...adventure." 

"Only the Beige Bombshell, may she rest in peace. It's nice that you could get back your ID; too bad you couldn't get the tackle box and money back as well." 

"Well, some people have a strange conscience. At least they dropped the wallet into a mailbox. Oh, by the way, I received this yesterday. I thought you would like to see it." He handed Lee an envelope post marked from Pines. "An official apology from the Sheriff, himself." 

Lee grinned and spread the letter out on the desk. "He's sorry, I'll bet he is. He hopes we'll come back to Pines and visit in more pleasant circumstances, I don't think so. Oh...they reprimanded the deputy that fired the warning shots. Warning shots... is that what they call them? Are you going to press this any further?" 

Nelson shook his head, "Not unless you really want me to. I personally would like this to die a quick death. The reporters have finally left the gates. I don't want to start something else for them to investigate." 

"I totally agree. But I sincerely doubt that we'll be forgotten in Pines too soon." 

Nelson laughed heartily. "I think you're right, Lee!" 

Crane put the letter back into the envelope and placed it next to the container of pencils on the desk. Something caught his eye and he did a double take. "What's this? Are you taking up crocheting, Admiral?" He pulled out the hook and looked at it with a speculative eye. 

"Oh...no, I, well, you know how Edith leaves her things here sometimes. Last week it was her coat." He took the hook from Lee's hand and dropped it back into the jar. 

"This week it's her crochet hook." 

"Uh huh, you know how she is." He looked down at the paper in front of him. "You know dinner sounds good. If you could give me a few minutes to clear this up." 

Lee smiled, "Sure. I'll have the car brought around." He walked to the door and paused. "You know Admiral, if Jamieson finds out that you are using that crochet hook to get under that cast, he'll have you thrown into the brig." He grinned and winked, "I just thought I'd remind you." 

"Thank you so much, Lee," he replied sarcastically to his captain as the door swung closed. He eyed the hook and picked it up and eased it under the cast for one last relief from the irritating itch. He looked up in frozen guilt as the door swung open again and Lee's smiling face peered around the edge. "It's nice to know after the last fishing trip, that you can still hook something, Admiral!" He disappeared around the door again, but his laughter trailed behind him. The admiral dropped the offending hook, picked up his jacket, and followed his captain; smiling as he shut the door.