Title: A Long Journey Back From Hell

Author/pseudonym: Jarren S. Mikiels

Fandom: Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea

Pairings: Admiral Nelson/Captain Crane, Kowalski/Patterson. Other pairings: Sharkey/Sparks, Chip Morton/Robert O'Brien, Riley/Malone, Doc/Pheerse (Original character)

Rating: NC-17

Status: New; complete

Archive: YES!

Series/Sequel: Is this story part of a series?

Other websites: CKOS

Disclaimers: All copyrights are the property of Twentieth Century-Fox and the Estate of Irwin Allen. No infringement of copyright is intended

(Summary: A contingent of Seaview's crew is assigned to monitor a recent increase in seismic activity on an island in the Far East. However, they are also on a top secret mission, the details of which are known only by Admiral Nelson and the President. An enemy unit attacks their encampment and tortures them. Although the men are rescued, tensions in the Far East escalate to the point where nuclear war is imminent.

EXTREMELY SUSPENSEFUL AND ANGSTY!

By J.S. Mikiels

Twon Gyek-0955 hours

Suddenly, the door to the instrumentation hut banged against the wall as a dozen men dressed in dark green fatigues stomped in, their automatic weapons at the ready. Patterson leaped to his feet as a man lunged at him and swung his weapon. He stepped aside, kicking the attacker in the midsection. The man grunted and lunged for him again. Then, he felt a sharp pain as something struck him between the shoulder blades. He spun around. Two more men converged on him. Something thudded against the side of his head. He fell into darkness.

When he regained consciousness, the sun was in his eyes. Its rays seemed like slivers of broken glass, cutting into his brain. He turned his head, fighting nausea. Finally, he sat up slowly, shaking his head to clear it.

"Stand up!" roared one of the men who had struck him, grabbing him by the collar of his red jumpsuit and hauling him to his feet.

A deafening BOOOOMM caused him to jump and whirl around. Through the large window, Patterson saw the microwave tower that was still under construction crash to the ground.

Patterson forced himself to focus on his surroundings through the red haze of pain. Looking into the eyes of his fellow crewmembers, he saw his own misery reflected there. Bledsoe, Riley, Bradford, and Delgados were definitely as scared and bruised as he; Malone bent forward at the waist periodically, gasping for breath. Malcolm, the new man, trembled so violently that he could barely stand. Tears streamed down his face. Small sobs forced their way from his throat.

What’s going to happen to us? Patterson wondered, barely fighting down the rising tide of panic. If these people are who I think they are, the only thing worse would be to die and go to Hell.

His own welfare was secondary at this point. Pat took a quick look at Admiral Nelson, who stood a few feet away. The Admiral’s blue eyes stared from swollen, purple sockets; his shoulders slumped. He dabbed at the blood that seeped from his lips, split and swollen due to being back handed across the mouth several times by their captors. Dried blood matted the Admiral’s light auburn hair and plastered it against his forehead. The deep bruises and blood stood out against the unusual paleness of his skin. Admiral Nelson swayed; his eyes closed for a moment.

Patterson reached out and took hold of the Admiral’s arm. A soldier, who was a couple of inches shorter than he, struck him on the upper arm with the butt of his automatic rifle. Gritting his teeth, he barely managed to stifle a moan. When the worst of the pain subsided, he tentatively flexed his arm. He could still move it, so it wasn’t broken.

If the attack had come an hour or so later, the Admiral would have been safe on Seaview, Patterson thought. It’ll go hard on the rest of us, but God only knows what they’ll do to him.

This mission had started out to be strictly scientific. A series of small seaquakes off the coast of Won Huang Phen had markedly raised the tides. Of course, whenever it concerned oceanic disturbances, the world’s foremost scientist, Admiral Harriman Nelson, was contacted. Several countries in the region had immediately sent NIMR the funds for his research.

The building engineers had constructed a fairly comfortable facility for them. Charting the ocean in the area and monitoring the newly developed seismic fault in the ocean floor had been a welcome change after the last hair-raising mission. The best part, thought Patterson, was that Ski and I shared quarters. Then, Ski got so sick and had to be taken back to Seaview. Thank God, he’s safe in Sickbay.

The NIMR group had been there three weeks when relations between Won Huang Phen and Than Ling Doh had suddenly deteriorated.

Patterson did not know the meaning of insignias their captors wore, but judging by their demeanor, he suspected they were officers. If they were all officers, this had to be a very special unit.

A tall man with broad shoulders and a narrow waist stood before them. In his hand was a leather strap. "I am Plingh Haitong, a member of the Won Huang Army’s Special Forces unit known as the Divine Dragon Corps. I am equivalent in rank to a Captain in your country’s army," he stated tersely, his dark eyes roaming over the group.

Several other armed men in similar uniforms paced around the captured men.

"Sniveling American trash!" snarled one of their captors, striking Malcolm in the back with the butt of his rifle. He groaned loudly as the air was forcefully expelled from his lungs.

"Who is in charge here?" demanded the Captain.

Patterson stepped forward. "I’m in charge now," he said. Until Ski had been evacuated, he had been the senior technician. Then, Pat had stepped in as the team’s leader.

Admiral Nelson straightened his shoulders. "These men answer to me," he declared. "It is getting hot. I’d like to move my men inside where it is cooler."

Captain Haitong drew back his hand and struck Admiral Nelson in the face with the leather strap. "I give the orders here," he spat, his tone containing the venom of a green viper snake. He faced the group. "You men will remain here until you are told to do otherwise."

Two men with AK-47s held at the ready stood behind him, sneering in their direction. The Captain gestured to Admiral Nelson. "Start with him."

The two men grabbed Admiral Nelson and shoved him toward the building where their office was located. Two men grabbed Riley. One twisted his arm behind his back while the other grabbed his hair and pulled his head back as they led him inside.

The enemy captain frowned. "Some of my men and I will be calling in each man and have a talk with him. If you cooperate, you will find us reasonable. If you do not, or if you lie, then I will make your worst nightmare look like Paradise."

**

Seaview-1030 hours

Seaview shuddered slightly more than the other times. The quakes are getting more intense, thought Captain Crane. For the last hour, he had felt increasingly uneasy. After checking each station briefly, he stood next to Mr. Morton at the plot table. "This mission started out to be almost a pleasure cruise. Then, the Far East has to turn into a time bomb on us."

Naval Intelligence had received word that Won Huang Phen was beefing up its military forces to attack its neighbor to the south, Than Ling Doh. The UN had refused to become involved. That could be a cataclysm waiting to happen. If war erupted between those two countries, the Yo Shingh Empire and the newly formed Slavic Democratic States could easily decide to enter the conflict on Won Huang Phen’s side. Both countries had nuclear capability. As a young Soviet Union Army officer, Cadimir Volokov had recommended launching ICBM’s at the United States. His beliefs had changed very little with time. As the Premier of the newly formed country, he had vowed a return to the separation of the Baltic countries and the "enemy" Western Capitalist countries. The president of the Yo Shingh Empire, Yun Chengdu, vowed emergence of his country as a world power. If hostilities erupted, neither of those countries would wait long to fire nuclear weapons. The United States and Than Ling Doh had been long-term allies, so that would compel the U. S. to enter the conflict on the side of Than Ling Doh. That could put the United States in a nuclear war.

At least one Naval Intelligence operative was reported to be in the area and would make contact with the NIMR unit if at all possible. His code phrase would be one of three. If the situation were tense, but not too much more than normal, the operative would say, "It’s not much fun around here." If the situation were becoming bad, the code phrase would be, "It may storm in a few days." If the situation were critical, the phrase would be, "Pan has turned to Mayday." The operative supposedly had vital information that could make the difference between continued peace or the beginning of World War Three.

Considering the grave consequences, the United States government leaders wanted no official involvement. Hence, NIMR was covertly contacted to monitor the situation and perhaps assist in making "satisfactory adjustments" if it was deemed necessary.

Mr. Morton shook his head, his blue eyes meeting the Captain’s. "Unless something changes, we could be in a nuclear war within a few hours. And Washington somehow expects us to stop it, but won’t say how or even give us any official authority. We might as well be running in the Olympics with leg manacles and a ball and chain."

Captain Crane nodded. "And if we do pull it off, the leaders in Washington get all the credit. If we can’t and this part of the world goes up in a mushroom cloud, Seaview will certainly get the blame. An unenviable position."

"I wonder what’s keeping the Admiral," said Mr. Morton, looking at his watch. "He usually doesn’t spend quite this long."

"He must be checking out the latest data readings," said Captain Crane. I hope that’s all that’s keeping him.

"And they did have radio trouble yesterday," Mr. Morton said. He frowned slightly. "Still, with things the way they are, I’ll feel a lot better when he’s back aboard."

"Me, too." Captain Crane inhaled deeply. "I’ve told him since the tensions in this area have escalated that he doesn’t need to go ashore, but does he listen to me?" He exhaled forcefully as he threw up his hands in exasperation. If he knew how much it tears me up when I think something might have happened to him. Some danger is going to be unavoidable in our work, but he doesn’t have to invite disaster.

Another pang of uneasiness rippled through Captain Crane. If only he had let me go with him, Crane thought. Then, I’d be there to look out for him if something did happen. Unable to merely wait for word, he knocked on the door to the radio shack.

When the Seaview had been refitted, the radio shack had been made into a separate cubicle. Captain Crane thought it a mixed blessing; Sparks sometimes indicated that he had less distraction, but that he felt isolated from everything.

"Come in," said Sparks, opening the door.

As Crane entered, he saw Sharkey sitting in the middle chair beside Sparks. He nodded at the Chief, then turned to the communications officer. "Sparks, see if you can raise the camp."

"Aye, sir." Sparks pressed some buttons and keyed his mike. "Seaview to Seagull. Come in. Over." He paused for a few seconds, then repeated the call.

Sparks looked at Captain Crane, his blue eyes calm. "There’s no response, sir."

"Have they had any trouble with their communication equipment?"

"No, sir," Sparks replied.

"Keep trying," said Captain Crane.

Sharkey stood and gave the radio operator a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Captain Crane stepped back into the control room, followed by Chief Sharkey. "Is anything the matter, Skipper?" asked the Chief."The Admiral doesn’t usually stay gone this long," Captain Crane said.

Sharkey smiled, shrugging. "Seismic activity’s picked up a little this morning. You know how he is when he thinks he’s onto something. Like a snapping turtle biting someone’s finger."

He and the Admiral had fused into an unbeatable team. A chill coursed along Crane’s spine. If anything happens to the Admiral--. He could not bear to complete the thought. He has to be all right, so I can make it.

"I hope you’re right," Crane told the Chief.

**

Twon Gyek-1545 hours

Captain Plingh Haitong stared out the window of what he assumed to be Admiral Nelson’s office. "This is getting us nowhere," he fumed. "I would have thought at least one man might tell us something useful."

"We still have one more man to talk to. That one that cries a lot," said his adjutant, Lieutenant Mamth Li Chu.

"Sergeant Ki is changing a tape in the camera. It should be interesting viewing back home."

"It would be more interesting if we could learn something useful," Haitong grumbled. "I know there is more to their mission than simply monitoring those quakes."

"If they don’t talk soon, we can have them taken back to our camp. As soon as possible, we’ll transport them to a prison camp. They may be useful as political pawns if nothing else."

Sergeant Ki entered the room and saluted. "We are ready for the last man," he said.

**

Twon Gyek-1605 hours

Two Oriental soldiers bound Malcolm’s feet to the legs of the chair and his hands behind his back. Captain Haitong squared off in front of the man. "What is your name?" he demanded.

His heart pounded so fiercely it ached. He suddenly felt as if he could not take in enough air as he attempted to back away. "A--Alan Malcolm," he stammered. Then, he gave his identification number.

"What is your real mission here?" he inquired.

"We’re here to monitor the seismic disturbances," Malcolm replied, praying that the answer would appease the enemy captain.

Captain Haitong gazed at him with undisguised scorn. "I know that is the story you are telling to conceal your real purpose for being here," the captain stated in a calm voice. Then, he leaned down until his face was only a few inches from Malcolm’s. "But I’m an intelligent man. All Americans have been ordered to leave the countries of Won Huang Phen and Than Ling Doh, yet you still remain in the area. There is more to your purpose than what you are telling me, and you will tell me what it is!" he ranted, striking Malcolm across the chest with the strap, cutting through his light blue coveralls. Immediately, welts rose and began to ooze blood.

Blood began dripping onto his chest and his torn clothes. His stomach churned, shooting bitter liquid into his mouth. He spat it onto the floor. My blood. My life! It’s leaking away! If it doesn’t stop, I’ll die! He suddenly felt very light-headed. "My God! No! No!" he gasped.

"Your friends are very stubborn. How unfortunate for them! However, I thought you might be smarter than they are," Captain Haitong said softly, raising his hand again and striking him once in the face and another time on the chest with the strap. Warm wetness began trickling down his face. He looked down. It was red! I’m bleeding even more! "I’m bleeding!" he shrieked, his breath coming in gulping sobs.

Captain Haitong grinned evilly. "You haven’t seen anything yet," he chortled. With that, he removed his bayonet from his belt and held the point to his throat. "If you don’t tell me something useful, I am going to carve you a second mouth. Let me tell you how I’m going to do it. I’ll cut the skin. That will bleed generously. Then, I will retrace that incision, cutting just deeply enough so that the larynx and trachea are cut. Those are made of cartilage, I think. I’m not sure. I’ll have to wiggle my blade to pry them enough so that they won’t try to seal back up. Then, I will go over the incision on each side again, just enough to nick the carotid arteries and the jugular veins." Captain Haitong smiled. "You will not breathe through your nose or your mouth. Air will rush in through the cut. Air-and-the last man took about five minutes to drown. On his own blood." The captain drew the bayonet across his throat.

Malcolm felt a slight sting.

"No, wait!" screamed Malcolm. "The others are telling the truth. They don’t know anything to tell you. There are only three men who had any access to the sensitive information."

"Admiral Nelson?" asked Captain Haitong. "That’s a given. But who else?"

"A man named Kowalski, and another one named Patterson. Kowalski got sick and had to be taken back to Seaview, but Patterson is here."

"Yes. I’ve already talked to the Admiral and Patterson. Really stubborn fellows."

"Admiral Nelson is very hard-boiled. You can do anything to him. He’d die before he’d talk."

Captain Haitong nodded in acknowledgement. "That remains to be seen. We’ve been able to get information from even the toughest men. Believe me when I tell you that we can get past the defenses of any man." He faced Malcolm. "If you help me, it will go much easier on you than it will on those who defy us. And you won’t be made to bleed any more."

"But how do I know you won’t go back on that and make it even harder for me? After all, then you will have what you want. I will have no value to you, then."

"First, I’m a man of my word," assured Captain Haitong. "And when we transport you to our base came and from there to a prison facility, you will be treated well. Your friends? That’s another matter."

Malcolm nodded. "All right. I can tell you one thing about Admiral Nelson. I don’t think you can break him directly. I think you could torture him til you killed him and you wouldn’t break him. But he does have a weakness."

"Every man does, no matter how strong he is. What do you think that weakness is?" asked Captain Haitong.

"He is very protective of his men, especially Captain Crane and some of the others who have served on Seaview for a long time. If he saw one or more of them tortured to death, that just might do it. And since it is a mission and equipment he helped designed and perfect, he would feel doubly responsible if his men were tortured."

"Have any of the men who are here been with him for a long time?"

"Yes. Riley, Malone, and Bledsoe. Delgados and a couple of others joined later. Patterson has been with him forever."

"Does he work closely with this Patterson?"

Malcolm hesitated. Captain Haitong wiped the edge of the bayonet with his finger. Blood stained his finger.

Malcolm felt light-headed once more. "Yes. Whenever there is something new, Patterson is one of the main ones he calls on. Sometimes, Riley and Malone work with him, too, but Patterson is the main one when there is something sensitive to work on."

"Tell me something about this Patterson fellow."

"He’s very smart, but he’s very shy and reserved." Malcolm swallowed and paused, drawing in a quivering breath. "He’s one who gets embarrassed if he has to strip down in front of a bunch of other guys. We had a solvent leak. He and two other guys got some solvent on them. The procedure calls for them to strip naked and spray down with water. When he did, he turned so red and tried to keep his back to everyone as much as possible. That’s how shy he is. I’ve heard he doesn’t party when we’re in port."

Captain Haitong put the bayonet to his throat again, but hesitated before drawing it across his neck. Then, he withdrew it and placed it back in the scabbard on his belt. "Yes, I believe your information will be useful," he admitted, smiling.

Captain Haitong motioned to his men. "Let him have food and drink." Two men stepped forward and untied him. As they hauled him to his feet, everything went black.

**

Seaview-1610 hours

Captain Crane studied all the instruments. Everything read as it should. The men seemed reasonably relaxed. With nothing to distract him, Captain Crane crossed to the plot table and stared at the map of Twong Gyek, as if it were an oracle that would suddenly disclose what had happened to the NIMR detachment. An icy knot twisted in his gut. "Something’s wrong. Bad wrong," he told Mr. Morton.

Mr. Morton nodded. "Do you want me to surface? We could send a recon patrol to see what’s going on."

The intercom crackled. Then, Sparks’ voice came through the control room speaker. "Captain Crane, I have a call for you from Naval Intelligence. Top priority,"

Such a communiqué could only mean bad news. He picked up the mike and keyed it. "Very well, Sparks. Put it through to my cabin." He replaced the mike in its bracket and strode from the control room.

In his cabin, he picked up the phone and hit the descramble button as he sank into his chair. "This is Captain Richards with ONI. We’ve just had word that your base has been invaded and your men taken prisoner."

The cabin spun around him for a moment. He pressed his lips together to stifle the moan that threatened to escape them. "We haven’t had word from them. I was going to send a recon team out to see what had happened to them."

Captain Richards paused a moment before speaking again. "I’ve just received word from COMSUBPAC. Seaview is to leave the area immediately. We will try to get the men back later when the situation cools off. Won Huang Phen is mobilizing an invasion force on the border of Than Ling Doh. Both the Yo Shingh Empire and the Slavic Democratic States are threatening to come to the aid of Won Huang Phen if we are involved in any way. With the situation so volatile, the President does not want to risk any discovery of American involvement with the situation. Also, as you know, many members of the Congress will be seeking reelection this year. It will bode badly in the polls for his party if their constituents learn that he authorized covert American involvement."

This is sheer insanity, Captain Crane fumed silently. The world is poised on the brink of nuclear war and he is worried about an election a year away! If something isn’t done very soon, there may not be enough of the United States left to hold an election.

"Are you suggesting that I leave my men, including Admiral Nelson, to rot in some god-awful, god-forsaken prison?" Captain Crane demanded. "You know those countries do not observe the rules of the Geneva Convention when it comes to the treatment of prisoners."

"The guerilla unit that captured them is comprised of Won Huang Special Forces and various mercenaries. They’re crack soldiers, but known for their depraved natures. They’ve broken a lot of good men. It’s unfortunate for your men, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You are officially ordered to leave the area and return to Santa Barbara."

"But, sir, you don’t have all the facts. It’s too sensitive a matter to discuss over the radio, even on SCRAMBLE. Even if we didn’t have men we wanted to rescue, we have to stay here. You have no idea how critical our mission is," Captain Crane stated. "Only the President knows the true importance of our mission."

"Who do you think gave the orders to COMSUBPAC in the first place?" snapped Captain Richards.

Captain Richards had to be lying, or the President had actually decided that an election was more important than their purpose. What a fucked-up mess! Crane thought as he gripped the handset so hard that his hand cramped. "Captain, you cannot officially order Seaview to leave because we aren’t officially here," he stated, slamming the handset into its cradle.

I’m getting my men out, he vowed. Thank God I took the steps I did to protect Operation Guardian. But even that wasn’t enough. If those men learn about Operation Guardian, it’ll be curtains for life as we know it.

Seaview is the only chance of avoiding a nuclear holocaust

**

Twon Gyek-1630 hours

Captain Haitong heard a commotion. Turning, he stared out the window. Three of his officers were struggling with a stocky red-haired man, the one with four stars on his collar.

What Alan Malcolm had told him had truthful ring to it. Admiral Nelson was known to be a genius, but the quality of all human life meant even more to him than money. It was said that he treated subordinates almost as equals? How did he maintain their awe of him? And those so-called ethics he was reported to unfailingly adhere to? What was he thinking of?

For a person to be so intelligent, Nelson really was a fool. But compassion and forgiveness were the weaknesses that enabled the special unit of the Won Huang Phen Army to so often defeat the Americans.

Captain Haitong bolted from the office and joined the men outside. "Wait!" he commanded.

Immediately, his men froze, but continued to hold Admiral Nelson so that he could not strike them.

"Captain, we understand you can have him first. But we want a turn with him. After, all--." The lieutenant paused, cupping Nelson’s crotch before squeezing it so hard the Admiral gasped. The redness left his cheeks as his legs gave way. If others had not been holding him securely, he would have slumped to the ground. "We’ve never sampled such an eminent man before. A scientist and an Admiral." The young officer licked his lips, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes.

The Captain backhanded the lieutenant in the mouth. The lieutenant fell back a step, wiping away blood. "All in good time, my young lieutenant," he growled. "Don’t be so impatient. The main purpose for this exercise is to show him who is in control here. Of him and of his men." He paused again; eyeing him up and down, picturing how it was going to feel to squeeze his testes til he cried out, then penetrate him. How would Nelson taste when he bit his nipples and skin, harder and harder each time, until the passion bites were steadily oozing blood. He felt the blood rush to his loins. His erection strained painfully against the front of his pants. Resolutely, he pushed the thoughts of pleasure back and returned to the primary concern. "We must have the information he possesses. Then, the Captain turned to Nelson and eyed him, smirking. Reaching for Nelson, he jabbed his thumbs into the Admiral’s nipples, digging his thumbnails into them.

Gasping, Nelson grimaced as he tried to pull away, then spat on him.

Captain Haitong struck Nelson in the midsection with his fist. Nelson doubled over, gagging. The enemy captain smiled. "Of course, it will be entertaining to see the Admiral and those other men squirm under our touch."

"Then what are you waiting for?" asked the lieutenant.

Captain Haitong glowered at Lieutenant Yu Quan. His subordinate’s eyes widened as he shrank back almost imperceptibly. This time, Haitong merely frowned, looking down his nose at the man as if he were mentally deficient. "For your information, Admiral Nelson is a strong-willed man-an eagle. He probably would not break, no matter what we did to him. But if he had to watch the suffering of one of his eaglets, that is another matter altogether."

Sometimes, aboard a sailing vessel that’s at sea for extended periods, certain strong attachments are formed between some men. Perhaps this is his yeoman, and the arrangement between them has crossed all traditional lines into something much more-intimate. If this is so, then watching these men have their way with him will cause him extreme torment. All the young man will have to do is to answer the questions he had repeatedly refused to answer.

If Nelson doesn’t cooperate and the men continue to do what they want with him, the young man will think his Admiral doesn’t care what happens to him. In order to save himself, he might talk. Perhaps he’ll do it to get back at the Admiral for letting such a thing happen to him.

Captain Haitong scrutinized the other men. All looked scared and haggard, but one young man with light brown hair and vivid light blue eyes was gazing at the Admiral from time to time. He appeared to be more concerned about him than the others.

What was that the cooperative crewman, Malcolm, had said about the young man? He was quiet and kept to himself; was very shy and reserved. Seemed to be uncomfortable undressing and such in front of everyone. Even on shore leave, he did not engage in revelry like most sailors. Perhaps that was because he already belonged to someone, such as Admiral Nelson. If such is the case, Admiral Nelson must be very possessive of him.

A man hauled out a thin cot mattress and laid it down in front of the flagpole while another man cut lengths of nylon rope. Another man carried tent pegs and a small sledgehammer.

"Take him instead," ordered Captain Haitong, pointing to Patterson. "But tie up the good Admiral. Let him be close enough so he can see everything."

As three men grabbed Nelson and tied him to the flagpole, the other two grabbed Patterson. He wriggled free and swung on the men. The others quickly finished tying Admiral Nelson’s hands behind his back and ran to aid the other two men.

The five of them wrestled Patterson to the ground. One struck him in the jaw; another in the midsection. He lay still, gasping. Grabbing him, they tossed him onto the mattress. While three men held him to make sure he did not break away, one man bound his ankles and another his wrists. Then, they hammered the tent pegs into the ground and tied the other ends of the ropes to them.

**

Twon Gyek-1640 hours

Patterson struggled with all his strength, but it was no use. The nylon ropes cut into his wrists. Although he could move his legs a few inches, he could not raise them enough to kick any of the men who squatted beside him, their teeth bared in grim, evil grins. Captain Haitong stood behind the two men on his right side. He said something in a language Pat did not understand. Grinning even more evilly, one man took a bayonet from his belt and began cutting away his jumpsuit. Then, he cut away his underwear and tee shirt.

Heat crept into Pat’s cheeks. Several pairs of hands roughly explored his body. One man pinched his nipples, seemingly trying to crush them while another man grabbed a strand of his pubic hair and pulled. A sharp, burning pain shot through his loins. Another hand grabbed his testicles and squeezed hard. Pat tried to bite back the cries of pain, but could not.

The man who had pulled out the hair held up the strand. "There’s more where this came from," he chortled, speaking in English.

Pat’s stomach churned. Before this moment, the only man who had ever touched him sexually was Nathan Richard Kowalski. Any time Ski touches me, it’s almost as if he regards me as sacred and fragile. When our passion gets so strong, sometimes we get a little carried away, but we never hurt each other.

Captain Haitong knelt between his legs and quickly unfastened his pants. With one swift motion, he jerked them down. "You will tell us your real purpose for being here. If you do, we will let you go free."

"Tell them nothing!" Admiral Nelson shouted.

When he had taken his oath to protect his country upon joining the Navy, and again when he joined Seaview, that had meant far more than mere words. It was a pledge to live by-and die for-if necessary. "My name is Steven Terrell Patterson, identification number--."

Grabbing Patterson’s hips, the Captain picked up his lower body and placed his erection at the entrance to Pat’s body. He thrust forward.

A burning, tearing agony filled Pat’s buttocks as the enemy officer buried his shaft in Pat’s body without using lubrication or any foreplay to stretch him. "No! Oh, God, nnnooo!" he sobbed in rage, humiliation, and agony as the officer continued to thrust into the most intimate recesses of his body, then quivered as he released. The captain stood. Another man immediately flung himself on top of Patterson, viciously biting his neck and nipples. Then, he picked his hips up and thrust into him

Another man pulled down his pants and straddled his chest. "Open your mouth, you worthless piece of filth." He nudged his erection against Pat’s lips. "You will open your mouth, and you will swallow what I put in there."

Pat clamped his jaws tightly shut. Someone else reached out and jammed the point of a bayonet into his jaw. "If you don’t do what he says, a monster will have a beautiful face compared to yours."

Reluctantly Pat opened his mouth. The man’s erection pushed in, striking the back of his throat. A salty-sweet taste mixed with that of rottenness filled his mouth, gagging him. When he pulled out, another man immediately took his place.

Tears streamed down his face. A bullet through my brain would be better than this.

** Seaview-1655 hours

All afternoon, Kowalski felt increasingly uneasy. A vague, nameless dread gnawed at this gut.

Maybe I’m just missing Pat, he thought. If Pat were here, he’d be sitting with me right now if he weren’t on watch.

Kowalski closed his eyes as Pheerse took his wrist and pressed gently with his fingers. I’ve had salmonella once before, but a couple of days in the hospital and I was up and around. But this time-well, I never thought I could get this sick just from food poisoning.

"Your fever is down to 101," Pheerse told him. "Do you need anything for pain?"

"Maybe a couple of Tylenol Three," Kowalski said weakly. He opened his eyes, then wished he hadn’t as the light turned the twinge in his head into a throb. At least my bones don’t hurt like they did. Abscesses between the bones and the coverings-the periosteum, Doc had called them? That’s a new thing to me. There’s no pain like it. All morphine can do is dull the pain just enough so your body doesn’t go into shock. Hope I never get this shit again!

Pheerse finished his routine check and disappeared briefly. He returned with tiny cup containing the pills and a cup of water.

Kowalski propped up on his left elbow. Taking the pills from the small cup, he popped them into his mouth, then washed them down with a drink of the cold water. "Thanks, Pheerse."

Admiral Nelson, Kowalski, Patterson, Riley, and several other NIMR personnel had set up the small encampment located on Twong-Gyek, an island off the coast of Won Huang Phen. They had immediately begun monitoring and charting the surrounding ocean for faults and seaquakes. Although none had been severe, Admiral Nelson had sternly ordered the team to closely watch the seismic activity and report any changes to him. Then, he had returned to Seaview. Often, the Admiral returned to the island to see if the team needed anything and to personally check on the seismic activity findings.

One day last week, around noon, some native vendors who often visited the island in a motorboat had come, bringing native foods for sale. After a couple of weeks of rations, most were anxious for a change of taste, so they had purchased them. Several men had developed nausea and diarrhea, accompanied by fever. Doc had administered antibiotics and other meds. The others had begun to improve.

Kowalski, however, had eaten more than the others at the time, plus had bought one for an afternoon snack. Perhaps that explained why the treatment had not worked for him. His diarrhea had become nonstop. His fever had shot up to 104.6 degrees. The only reason he had tried to drink anything was so that the dry heaves would not cramp him so much. That had not been the worst of it. Those excruciating body aches had set in, sending agony through him with every heartbeat. Resting had been out of the question.

"I’m calling Seaview," Pat had told him, his eyebrows drawn together over his troubled blue eyes.

"No, Pat. You know how Doc is. Just let the antibiotics have a few more hours to work."

"That’s just it. They aren’t working," he had said before leaving him in their quarters long enough to go to the radio room and contact Seaview.

In a very short time, Sharkey, accompanied by Doc’s two corpsmen, had come to the island by raft. They had immediately taken him back to Seaview.

He turned over and fluffed his pillow, then settled back down. Finally, he dozed off.

Everything was gray. "No!" yelled Pat, his voice on the verge of hysteria. "No! No!" Kowalski could hear Pat struggling. "Oh, God! Nnoooo!" he sobbed, sounding as if he were in terrible pain. Then, further cries were strangled off.

"Pat! What’s wrong, buddy? Pat!" Kowalski cried. He was bathed in a cold sweat. His heart pounded.

Kowalski felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him.

"Ski," someone called. Kowalski recognized the voice as Dr. Jamison’s.

Opening his eyes, he saw Dr. Jamison and Pheerse peering down at him. The two corpsmen stood behind them, heads turned in his direction. He swallowed hard. "Something’s wrong with Pat," he gasped.

Doc smiled, squeezing his shoulders briefly in an attempt to reassure him. "Hey, take it easy. You’ve just had a bad dream, that’s all. You’re still running fever. That can cause you to have bad dreams," he said, his voice gentle and comforting.

Ski lay back down. "Doc, has there been a problem at Seagull?"

Doc shook his head. He hesitated for a moment. "We haven’t heard anything to indicate a problem. Just try to rest, Ski."

"Are you sure nothing is wrong?"

Doc patted him on the shoulder. "If I hear anything, I’ll let you know," he said, then retreated to his office, followed by Pheerse. Frank and John looked at each other and walked away.

Kowalski lay still. Despite their reassurances, his dread did not diminish.

**

Twon Gyek-1855 hours

Lieutenant Mahmth Li Chu stared out the window, outraged at what he saw. Those piss-poor excuses for human beings were still going at him with no sign of letting him up. In all his years, he had never felt so helpless. He fingered the cuff of his sleeve. How was he going to make contact with Seaview’s officers now? With Admiral Nelson captured and bound he could not speak to him without being overheard. When they had interrogated the men, Captain Haitong had insisted on videotaping it for propaganda purposes, as well as training other men in effectively interrogating prisoners.

He studied the small black case that Captain Haitong had removed from his rucksack and placed on the desk. He knew very well what was in it. He had seen it used on many prisoners before. Only two had survived, if being turned into vegetables could be called surviving.

If he weren’t very careful, he could send years of painstaking groundwork down the drain. In his position, he had access to vital information. However, if he did not act quickly, those sons of bitches would kill Patterson!

He had stood by while others were tortured, maintaining his professional detachment. This time, however, the wall that separated his outrage from the acts he witnessed was rapidly eroding. Maybe I’m getting soft-or old, he thought ruefully. I know this culture is different-give no quarter, ask no quarter-but how can anyone have so little regard for human life and dignity?

He studied Admiral Nelson’s face, wincing inwardly at the tears that stained it. To someone who didn’t know the situation, you would think he was watching his own son being hurt so badly. God knows, the Communists have killed everything worthwhile in my life. First, they staged the car accident that killed my wife and two children. I barely survived that. Paul Dana comforted me and gave me the courage to face life again. He had been my best friend, but he became my strength, my love. Then, a unit such as this kidnapped him. Several months later, my superior finally told me what had happened to him.

I wish I didn’t feel anything. Then, I wouldn’t jeopardize my own life and my mission to help this man, he complained to himself as he picked up the black case and strode out the door toward where the men were still entertaining themselves.

Captain Haitong looked at him. "He’s a little the worse for wear now," he said, his tone a trifle sarcastic. "You should have come out when I did. Then you could have had him after I was finished."

"Sir, has he revealed any information yet?" he asked the captain.

"No, but he will."

"May I have a turn with him?"

"Of course. I see you have brought our little interest creator. I’m surprised. You usually leave that to me." Captain Haitong scrutinized him.

"I’m due for my turn," he said firmly, feeling his heart pound for a moment.

Captain Haitong hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I’ll be back in a few minutes. If you haven’t had any luck, the other men and I will take over again."

Lieutenant Chu motioned to two of the men to approach. "Let this man loose and clean him up. Wash him down. Gently, if you can figure out what that means. Get him something clean to lie on, too," he instructed. "And someone get this man some water to drink," he ordered.

The men sprang to carry out his orders.

They strung a hose out and turned on the water. Someone poured some industrial detergent on him. They scrubbed him, then sprayed away the soap suds. Patterson moaned and struggled, but his strength soon gave out. A trickle of blood appeared just under his buttocks and ran down the back of his right thigh. One of the men washing him dabbed at it.

One man returned with a tall glass of water, cold to the touch. Opening the black case, he took out a small bottle and unscrewed the cap. He squirted a few drops into the glass and swished it around. Then, he replaced the cap and put the small bottle back into the case.

Two men pushed Patterson down onto the new mattress.

"Drink this," he commanded gently. "You’re beginning to dehydrate, and swallowing all that semen is making it worse." He touched the glass to Patterson’s parched, bleeding lips.

Immediately, Patterson grabbed the glass and guzzled down the water, gasping as he drained the last drop.

"Get him some more," he told one of the men.

The man frowned, but took the glass and walked away. Shortly, he returned, handing the glass to him.

Lieutenant Li Chu let Patterson drink, then took the glass from him. "Tie him back down," he instructed. Opening the case again, he withdrew a hypodermic syringe and two ampules. One contained sterile water; the other a white powder. After filling the ampule with the water, he shook it. Then, he stuck the needle in and pulled back the plunger. He extracted several cc’s of it, then squirted a cc onto the ground. He injected Pat, then replaced the needle in the small case. He would clean it later.

"Lieutenant, what do you think you are doing? You have befriended him. We will get nothing from him now," Sergeant Kyprin protested. "He will think we are weakening."

Unfortunately, I’m actually going to hurt him far more than what you’ve done, Lieutenant Li Chu mourned silently. But if I don’t step in, this man is going to go into shock and die. He glared into the insolent sergeant’s eyes. "You fool!" he raged. "Get out of my way now!"

After a few minutes, he stroked Patterson’s face and hair, then his battered body, for several moments, paying close attention to his reddened penis and bruised testicles. The many scratches on his inner thighs and pubic mound still oozed blood. Whatever their ideology, whatever their purposes, these bastards are sick. Opening his fly, he began stroking himself to hardness, then began to jack off. "Now, I will properly anoint you," he said.

Doing this to an enemy is bad enough, but doing it to one of your own, even if in order to try to save him--. He could not bear to contemplate any further, or he would lose his erection. Maybe the end justifies the means, but the cure will be every bit as bad as the disease if he does live. Sometimes, you can hurt a man far worse with finesse than you can with brute force.

**

Twon Gyek-1905 hours

Suddenly, Patterson felt a jolt of energy hit him as the captain climaxed on him, then began to gently rub his semen into Pat’s skin with one hand and smear some on his penis with the other. His stomach churned in revulsion, but the gentle touch actually felt good! His loins began to tingle! The lieutenant bent and brushed Pat’s nipples with his lips.

"These bastards didn’t know how to fully appreciate a man." He ran his fingers over the tip of Pat’s penis, then began to explore between his buttocks. A moment later, the finger penetrated his anus, followed by a second finger. Then his fingers brushed rhythmically against his prostate as the captain jacked him off.

What the hell? Anger and absolute shame welled up within him. He tried to block out the feelings of arousal, but he was no match for the need his body was conveying to the enemy lieutenant.

The only man I’ve ever wanted to touch me like this is Ski. We vowed on the Bible to remain together and be faithful to each other. Sex with Ski is wonderful and gentle, not like being in the middle of my worst nightmare. It doesn’t make me feel defiled or filthy, like this does. So why in the hell am I getting horny?

Suddenly, the tingling ecstasy boiled forth, shooting his semen onto the lieutenant’s hand. Then, the lieutenant stretched out on top of him. He grabbed Pat’s hair and pulled it gently.

"Cry out, Patterson," he instructed, pressing his lips to Patterson’s ear. "I’m going to fuck you now. Cry out, so I won’t have to really hurt you. Understand?"

Numbly Pat nodded, then screamed.

Lieutenant Chu kissed his throbbing lips gently as he explored Pat’s body again.

Pat fought the feeling, but again, the gentle caresses caused his body to betray him. His penis soon throbbed, his loins aching with need. Lieutenant Chu’s brown eyes closed as he picked up his hips and positioned himself. Gently, he pushed inside, pausing several times. Pat yelled with each movement. Finally, the lieutenant’s penis pressed against his prostate, nudging back and forth gently. Soon Lieutenant Chu came in him. Then, he took Pat’s penis and manipulated him to climax again.

With what looked like a satisfied smile, Lieutenant Li Chu stood and walked away.

A terrible rage surged through him at the members of the enemy unit, at fate for placing him in this situation, but most of all at himself. A cry of utter fury formed at the center of his soul and exploded from his lips, further hurting his raw, bruised throat.

Pat struggled; the ropes abraded his already raw wrists and ankles. He concentrated on the pain, a meager atonement for betraying his vow to Ski.

**

Twon Gyek-1935 hours

Captain Haitong approached Patterson again and loomed over him, brandishing a metal rod attached to a handle. "I’ll ask you again. What is your mission here? Tell me now."

"We’re recording seismic readings on the ocean floor," Patterson told him.

"You aren’t telling me the whole truth!" Captain Haitong screamed, then leaned down and touched the rod against his testicles. Pain exploded in his loins and danced along every nerve of his body. He screamed, barely recognizing the voice as his own, as everything turned gray. Blood roared in his ears.

Someone broke a vial under his nose. The biting smell infiltrated his senses, forcing him toward consciousness again. His eyes focused on Captain Haitong. He turned his head from side to side, but the captain’s hand followed his movements.

"I’m asking you again." Captain Haitong repeated his questions. He sighed, frowning. "I was hoping you would be reasonable, but you leave me no choice but to step up my efforts to get this information." He paused. "There are men who haven’t had their turns yet. Believe me, some of them will make the ones who have had you seem very kind and tame."

"I’ll tell you nothing," he spat, trying vainly to keep his voice steady.

Captain Haitong smiled grimly, then shoved the rod up his rectum and jammed it hard into his prostate and depressed a black switch on the handle. A horrendous agony like none he had ever known shot through his entire body, hurling him into blackness.

He felt himself returning to consciousness. Vainly, he fought to remain in the blackness as the captain waved the smelling salts under his nose again. "It’s no use. We’ll keep doing it until you answer all our questions. If you pass out, we’ll revive you," a familiar voice threatened.

Captain Haitong paused several moments, rubbing his chin. "I’ll let you think about it for a while. While you are thinking, you can watch Admiral Nelson receive what I call The Shock to the Soul, like you just did." He gestured to Lieutenant Quan. "Cut him loose. Then, strip Admiral Nelson and tie him down."

Pat’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. He began trembling violently as sobs forced their way out. "No! My God, please don’t!" Admiral Nelson is a lot older than I am. It’ll kill him for sure if they put him through this. "Wait!"

Captain Haitong held up his hand. His men hesitated.

Patterson drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "T-The b-blueprints are for our equipment are hidden behind the panel where the picture of the front of NIMR is hung. The codebook is located in the cover of a paperback book called The Silent World. It’s located in the bottom right-hand drawer of the Admiral’s desk."

"You traitor! You spineless son of a bitch. Stinking yellow traitor slime through and through. You’ll hang for this. I’ll see you burn in Hell," bellowed Admiral Nelson.

This must be how Jesus felt when God turned His back on Him when He hung on the cross, Pat thought as everything blurred together. He was vaguely aware that someone was fondling him again, but he no longer cared what happened to him. After a few moments, they left him alone.

He was aware of the small whimpering noises his raw, bruised throat made, but he could not stop them any more than he could stop the tears that spilled onto his cheeks. Not only have I betrayed Ski, but I’ve betrayed Admiral Nelson and my country, too.

**

Admiral Nelson looked away, tears blurring his vision. Now, I know what Lee went through when he was held captive on that reprobate excuse for a submarine*. If there was ever a tin can full of human filth, that boat was it. And Lee wasn’t brutalized to near the extent Patterson has been! God, it’s a miracle he’s still alive after what all they’ve done to him.

Although Pat was resilient, there was a sensitive, even vulnerable, place under it. If he survived, could he ever put it behind him?

Pat wasn’t the first man to be mistreated sexually by an enemy unit. It had happened to countless other men who were taken prisoner, including Lee. However, such an experience had destroyed many good, otherwise strong men. Lee had been one of the very lucky ones. If I hadn’t been there, standing by him, nurturing him, the outcome might have been different.

At least the blueprints to the equipment for Operation Guardian won’t fall into their hands. When things started going to hell in a hand basket over here, I took the plans back to Seaview, just in case we were invaded. But the codebook is still here. If they send the information back to their home base and their cryptologists figure it out, there goes our ace in the hole. Without it, we’re as good as finished.

Even the plans for this other equipment falling into enemy hands is bad enough. It may prove to be disastrous yet.

Still, Pat’s giving in was the only thing that saved me from going through the same thing. Lately, I’ve had times when my heart pounds, then seems to skip some beats. If I had been shocked like Pat was, I might have had a major heart attack. There would have been no medical help available. That could have been all she wrote for me.

The next thought distressed him even more: If they had started on me, would I have capitulated, too?

If he had cracked and divulged all he knew, it would certainly have been the end of the United States; possibly the beginning of the end of the entire world.

**

Riley leaned forward, his head almost to his knees. The blood rushed back to his head. Perhaps he would not pass out after all. He straightened slowly, inching closer to Malone, whose large brown eyes were fixed on him.

"Let him loose," ordered Captain Haitong. "And Admiral Nelson, too."

Disappointment was etched on the faces of the enemy soldiers as they untied them.

Even though Patterson was now free, he continued to lie there, sobbing softly. Admiral Nelson swayed, then collapsed onto the ground.

Riley strode to the Admiral and knelt beside him. His eyes fluttered open, then closed again. "Admiral, can you stand up?"

"Never mind me. Take care of Patterson," rasped Admiral Nelson, waving him away.

"On your feet," ordered Captain Haitong.

Several men surrounded them, their fingers inside the trigger guards of their weapons. "Take them inside. Let them have a cup of water apiece, but don’t let them have food."

Riley walked to Patterson’s side and grasped both his wrists, then pulled him to his feet and whirled around, carrying him on his back. Malone and Bledsoe helped Admiral Nelson stand. Slowly, they made their way to the building.

As Riley and the others entered, the air conditioner provided much needed cooling to their heat-weakened bodies. He laid Patterson on the floor, then flopped down close to him and leaned against the wall. Malone helped the Admiral sit down, then joined him.

A lot of us have been roughed up before, but nothing like this. And we haven’t been given any kind of shot yet. What was in it? I can’t blame Pat for breaking. I don’t see how he held out as long as he did. And the Admiral has had tests run on his heart recently. He’s had some problems with it not beating right. Besides, he’s not as young as Pat, so he wouldn’t be as strong physically. If those goons had done him like they did Pat, it could’ve finished him.

When Ski finds out what happened to Pat, he’s going to be beside himself. I’ve seen the way he looks at Pat when he thinks no one is paying any attention. If Pat doesn’t pull through, it’s going to be like Batman without Robin or the Lone Ranger without Tonto.

Riley’s gaze met Malone’s and held. Reaching out, he laid his hand over Malone’s. "We’ll make it somehow. We’ve been in dangerous spots before."

Malone took his hand; their fingers entwined. The Skipper will get us out of this somehow. He’s got to!

**

Seaview-0210 hours

Captain Crane, Chief Sharkey, and the other members of the landing force assembled in the Armory Room. Silently, they donned their special camouflage uniforms that Admiral Nelson had designed and contracted only a year and a half ago. Although the pattern was similar to the obsolete Tiger Stripe pattern used in the jungle for years, it contained much more black and darker shades of green and brown. The pattern was also much more irregular. The nylon head net was almost solid black, negating the need to paint their faces. None of the uniforms had any identifying insignias.

The door opened. In stepped Kowalski, paler than usual. His lips were dry; his eyes febrile. "I’m here," he announced.

"Did Doc release you?" asked Sharkey, an edge in his voice.

"I’m just fine," Kowalski stated.

"I’ve heard that one before," Chief Sharkey said. He was about to call Sickbay when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," called Captain Crane as he buckled on his holster and cartridge belt.

Doc entered with a metal chart in his hand, his lips pulled back in a grim smile. "I thought I’d find you here," he said, his tone tight with suppressed anger.

"But, Doc, I’m--."

Doc cut Kowalski off in mid-sentence. "No, you’re not fine. You were still running a fever of 100.4 when I checked you a half hour ago. You’re pale and still weak. You’ve had three bouts of diarrhea today. You are in no shape to go tromping around in some jungle."

Kowalski’s gaze dropped to the deck, then met Doc’s again. "Doc, we’re got good men out there," he protested. "The Admiral, Pat, Riley, Malone, and the others."

"I know, but how much good will you be if you get sick again and can’t function? You will be a liability to the rescue party, not a help."

"Get back to Sickbay, Ski," ordered Captain Crane reluctantly. If he were fit for duty, he would be a good one to have along. Of all people, he knew how Kowalski was feeling right now. His beloved Admiral was in enemy hands, too.

Doc motioned him to precede him through the door, slapping him on the butt with the metal chart holder as he stepped through.

Although Kowalski and Patterson did not flaunt their relationship, Captain Crane had spotted the signs-standing closer than two men normally stand at times, a clap on the shoulder combined with prolonged eye contact and a slow, gentle smile; sometimes, a wink. Once, Captain Crane had walked through the boat before retiring for the night. He had heard muffled moans coming from a little-used storage locker on C Deck and had quietly opened it to see what was making the noise. Ski and Pat had been locked in a passionate embrace, their lips and bodies pressed close, oblivious to everything but each other. Captain Crane had backed out and closed the door softly before they had realized he was there.

Captain Crane fervently hoped none of the crew knew about the true nature of his relationship with the Admiral. Although he and Harry were strictly professional when in the presence of others, he realized that the crew were very perceptive men. Several of them had discreetly formed similar relationships. As long as they were not blatant with them or forcing themselves on other crewmen who were not interested in a same-sex relationship, he and the Admiral had thought it best to look at them through their fingers. If the men who were so inclined were allowed their own satisfying relationships, they would be less likely to cause them problems.

Captain Crane selected a Beretta and sound suppressor, and several fifteen-round clips and an M-16 and ammunition, as well as some grenades in case they got into some heavy firefighting. As the other men grabbed their weapons, the door opened slightly. Sparks stuck his head in for a moment, and then withdrew into the corridor.

"Sharkey, Sparks is out in the passageway. Go see what he wants," he told the Chief, unable to suppress a smile. He’s worried and wants to see Sharkey before he leaves. Until nine months ago, Sharkey was one of the main ones I would have been concerned about. Then, Sharkey had always kept a close watch on the men. If any of them seemed to spend too much time together off watch, he had checked on them periodically.

However, fourteen months ago, that had changed. Sharkey had become involved with Sparks. Five months later, Sparks had had to be hospitalized due to a severe psychological disturbance. At first, he had not been very supportive. Then, someone (perhaps Ski and Pat) had given Sharkey a real come-uppance in an anonymous letter. Reluctantly, he had stepped forward and supported his partner. The relationship was now a strong one. Since that time, Sharkey’s disapproval of same-sex relationships had ameliorated considerably.

Sharkey had not put on his head net. Crane could see a flush creep into his face and a pleased brightness enter his eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up in the barest smile.

Sharkey stepped into the corridor for a short time, then returned. Quickly, he slipped his head net on and secured it in his shirt and selected his weapons and ammunition.

Then, Captain Crane and the others picked up their IRTDETS and tested them. The Infrared-Thermal Detection Scanners were in proper working order. The devices would be invaluable in finding location of their men and detecting the enemy soldiers.

Captain Crane looked at his watch. It was 1745 hours. "Synchronize watches at 1746 hours," he instructed. "Mark."

The men immediately set their watches with the Captain’s.

They went to the supply locker, where they took out two rubber rafts with small engines in them. They strode to the emergency escape hatch, located between frames forty-seven and forty-eight on A Deck.

Captain Crane picked up the nearby hand mike. "Mr. Morton, surface."

"Surface. Surface," repeated Mr. Morton. Soon, the submarine rocked gently

It was time to move out. Captain Crane stood before the group. The tremendous tension seemed to congeal into a thick, transparent substance. "Men, I don’t have to tell you that we hold the lives of our fellow crewmen in our hands," he began. "However, we also hold the fate of our nation, maybe even that of the entire world."

Kenton climbed the ladder and opened the hatch. He and Lambkin took one of the small rafts topside. Dodson d Doss followed with the other one. Captain Crane, Chief Sharkey, and Lieutenant O’Brien followed them. Captain Crane secured the hatch.

Quickly, they inflated the rafts, and then inserted the motor packs into the brackets.

Captain Crane took half the group with him on one raft; the other half went with

Lieutenant O’Brien in the second raft. As the rafts raced at their top speed to Twon Gyek, the soft hum-drone of the motors and the slapping of the waves against the shore were the only noises. No one talked or smoked.

After what seemed a century, the rafts reached the shore. Quickly, the men climbed over the side and pulled them onto the beach. Captain Crane pointed to a thick patch of foliage. The men lost no time carrying them to it to hide them. A few yards away, Lieutenant O’Brien and the men with him were putting their raft in another clump of bushes. They quickly cut down some of the foliage and placed it over them for added cover.

All the men then silently hid in the shadows.

As Captain Crane adjusted the slide button of his Infra-Red DETection Scanner, he became aware of someone beside him. Turning, he saw it was Chief Sharkey. "They may be over there. "There is a lot of heat coming from that one building," he whispered to the COB. As they neared the building, he saw the wire cable attached to the door by an eyebolt on one end, then secured to a six-inch anchor, which was dropped through an eyebolt screwed into the doorframe. Two Oriental guards wearing unfamiliar uniforms stood about two meters in front of the door.

"Those enemy soldiers must have done that when they put our men in there," Sharkey said. "It wasn’t here when we had to come after Ski."

I wish Ski were here. This is his kind of operation, Captain Crane thought. His eyes met Sharkey’s as he pulled a long piece of thin wire from his pocket and looped it around his hands. Sharkey did the same.

Captain Crane nodded, his heart pounding. He and Sharkey fanned out so they could approach from opposite directions. With the suddenness of a pouncing cat, Crane wrapped his wire around the throat of the guard just in front of him and pulled it as tightly as he could; Sharkey did the same with the other guard an instant later. The unmistakable sound of the cracking of larynx cartilage told him that those two men would not be causing them any difficulty.

Captain Crane and Chief Sharkey hustled to the door, several of the men in their wake, their weapons drawn. Sharkey flattened himself against the outer wall on one side; Captain Crane did so on the other. Quietly and quickly, Captain Crane pulled the bolt out of the eye. Gripping the handle, he pulled the door open and bolted inside, his weapon pointed in front of him. Sharkey and the other men barged in behind him.

"Skipper, Chief! Man, are we glad to see you guys!" exclaimed several of the men, getting to their feet.

"Come on! We’ve got to get out of here!" ordered Captain Crane.

Without a word, Malcolm sprang up and ran toward them. Each of the other men helped a man up and pulled him along until he found his feet. If one of the captured men stumbled, the rescuing men helped him along.

Patterson lay unmoving, covered by a white bunk sheet, which contained large red splotches on the lower portions and some small ones on the upper areas. Blood matted his hair and stained his face, which was almost as white as the sheet. Admiral Nelson lay a few feet from him, staring straight ahead, his shirt torn. Dried blood showed where he had been badly scratched. Riley and Malone hovered over them.

His heart pounding, Captain Crane knelt beside the Admiral, while Sharkey went immediately to check on Patterson.

"Admiral! Admiral!" Captain Crane called softly to him. To his dismay, Admiral Nelson continued to stare unblinkingly in front of him. Although it was above eighty degrees, his teeth were chattering as if he were cold.

Riley and Malone were still hovering over Patterson. Captain Crane saw Sharkey raise the sheet and turn very pale. "My God!" whispered Sharkey as he turned away, gasping.

Patterson’s eyes sprang open. He grabbed the sheet and pulled it close to him. "Just leave me here. Let them kill me!" he pleaded, and then began crying softly.

"Y-You’re just hurt real bad, son. You don’t know what you’re saying. We’re going to get you out of here. Get you back to Sickbay. Doc’ll fix you up," Captain Crane heard Chief Sharkey assure Patterson. He gestured to Riley and Malone. "Get Pat and head for the beach. I’ll help the Skipper get the Admiral."

Captain Crane and Sharkey picked up Admiral Nelson. Draping one of his arms around their shoulders, they left the building and ran as quickly as they could toward the jungle.

The sound of automatic weapons reached their ears as bullets whizzed past them. The three men fell to the ground. Captain Crane covered Nelson’s body with his own in an attempt to shield him as he drew his pistol and fired at the enemy soldiers. Sharkey unslung his M-16 and lay prone, firing short bursts at the enemy soldiers. Three ran for the jungle, but several more crumpled to the ground, large scarlet stains blooming on their shirts.

"Come on! Let’s go!" ordered Captain Crane, scrambling to his feet. Sharkey followed suit. They picked up the Admiral and backed into the jungle.

"Hold it! Drop your weapons!" At least one voice barked behind him. Turning his head, Captain Crane saw a tall, slender Oriental man leveling an AK-47 at him. Another man, short and stocky, stood beside him, his weapon also at the ready. The third man was behind them, backing away and dropping to the ground. "I am Captain Haitong of the Divine Dragon Corps of the Won Huang Phen Army. You are my prisoners."

Bursts of weapons fire erupted nearby. It was immediately returned.

The enemy soldiers momentarily looked away.

Captain Crane and Sharkey fell to the ground, firing their weapons. The enemy captain and the man at his side dropped their weapons and fell, clutching their bloody chests.

As Captain Crane and Sharkey got to their feet and picked up the Admiral, a young man half a head shorter than he stepped forward. "I must speak to the officer in charge," he declared, his English containing a trace of an accent.

Captain Crane stepped forward. "I’m Commander Lee Crane. I’m in charge here," he replied.

The Oriental lieutenant advanced. "I must speak with you privately," he stated.

Immediately, several men stepped out of the foliage and leveled their weapons at him. Captain Crane held up his hand, signaling for them to hold their fire. "Hand your weapons over," he ordered the enemy officer.

Unslinging his AK-47, he extended it. Delgados rushed forward and took it. Then, he slowly handed over his sidearm holster containing his pistol.

Captain Crane and Lieutenant Chu inched toward each other until they were less than a foot apart. Lieutenant Li Chu leaned forward so that their heads were almost touching. "Pan has turned into Mayday!" he whispered. "You’re going to need a miracle."

As Captain Crane heard the words, he stared in astonishment at the man who had uttered them. He had expected an American. Thank God we’ve located our operative. However, the additional words sent a chill straight into his soul.

Lieutenant Li Chu backed up slightly. "We’ve got to move fast and get out of here. A detachment of about twenty-four men has been deployed from Won Huang Phen. It’s due to arrive very soon. We don’t want them to find us here."

Two men knelt beside the two enemy officers lying on the ground. "This one is dead," Bledsoe said, pointing to the shorter one. "But this one is still alive," he said, pointing to the taller one.

"He has brought information with him. Also, he has taped the interrogation of the American men. It was to be propaganda. If we could get him back to ONI headquarters alive, we would obtain a lot of information."

"Bledsoe, Delgados, take this man to the beach. We’re taking him with us," ordered Captain Crane. He gestured to two other men. Take the Admiral back to the beach and wait for us. The rest of you, come with this officer and me.

The men looked at each other, but said nothing as they followed the two men. "The information is in the main office area and the computer area," Lieutenant Li Chu stated as he led the way toward the building. Inside, he grabbed a field pack and stuffed several videotapes and a couple of audiotapes into it. Grabbing a Jacques Cousteau book called The Silent World, he put it into the pack. "That was not really a book. In it is a top secret code." He picked up some long tubes and thrust them at the two men. "These are blueprints. We’ve got to take them with us," Li Chu said.

When they had collected all pertinent data, they left the building. They started toward the comm. shack where the computers and the communications equipment were housed, when bullets began kicking up dirt and vegetation all around them. They hit the ground, returning the fire. Finally, all was still.

A man moaned. Crane turned to see who it was. Lambkin was twitching as he clawed at his blood-spattered upper chest. His eyes were fixed upon Crane’s face for a moment before rolling upward. A rattling gurgle escaped Lambkin’s throat. Then, he lay still. A few feet away, Dodson lay contorted in a spreading scarlet pool, a gaping hole in his neck.

"Skipper, Dodson got it, too. Never knew what hit him," Chief Sharkey said.

Captain Crane’s eyes stung with unshed tears. I never get used to seeing one of my men die.

"Come on, we’ve got to get to the comm. shack, " Crane ordered.

Inside, two enemy soldiers were staring intently at the monitor screen. Captain Crane fired his pistol. The first bullet caught the man between his shoulder blades. The other man turned halfway around, but a bullet through his neck dropped him before he had a chance to aim his weapon.

They retrieved the discs containing all data, then went into the main directory and, with one command, deleted everything. With the CD’s and floppy discs, they could reboot the computer later, if there was time to return to retrieve it.

As they exited the comm. shack, three enemy soldiers stepped out, firing their rifles.

Captain Crane, Sharkey, and the other men ran, firing at the enemy troops. The enemy soldiers collapsed and lay still.

Captain Crane, Sharkey, and Bledsoe ran to the beach. Thank goodness! Thought the Captain when he saw many of the men were already there.

With an intense feeling of relief, Captain Crane watched as Bledsoe and O’Brien grabbed the one of the rafts and pulled it toward the water. Three other men joined in helping to get the raft into the water.

Captain Crane grabbed the other raft. Riley, Malone, and several others helped him get it into the water. Men climbed into it, hauling Patterson and other dead and wounded aboard.

"Start your engine, O’Brien," commanded Captain Crane. Several pairs of men rushed forward, carrying wounded. Some were obviously already dead. "Get in! Hurry!" he snapped.

Almost immediately, the steady thrum of the craft’s small engine filled the air.

"Riley, start our engine," Captain Crane ordered. Riley attempted, but the engine only spluttered.

A powerful beacon began raking the water. A moment later, it pinned them in its beam.

"O’Brien, get the hell out of here!" shouted Crane, waving him away.

"But, sir, throw me a line. We can tow you in," he protested.

"Hurry! Get the Admiral back to Seaview! That’s an order, Mister!"

O’Brien took the tiller and sped away. Another spotlight began following them.Riley tried again to start the engine. This time, it spluttered, then roared into life. "Thank God!" Crane exclaimed. "Get moving!"

Rifle and machine-gun fire began churning up the water around them as the raft lurched forward. Crouching low, Captain Crane turned on his radio. "Seaview, this is Mother Hen. We successfully retrieved our men and are on our way back. Advise Sickbay we have several dead and injured."

**

Seaview-0440 hours

Lieutenant Peter Anthony Colton took a deep breath and tried to relax. He desperately needed to get some sleep. Instead, another chill of apprehension sent a shiver through him. He glanced at the empty bunk across from his. Hope O’Brien is all right, he thought.

Then, his mind returned to his main concern. Francis, you don’t know how it tears me up waiting for you to get back, wondering if you will return all right, or if you will get--. He could not bring himself to think of Sharkey not coming back alive.

He threw back the sheet and blanket and got out of his bunk. Slipping a pair of athletic shorts over his briefs, he left the cabin and walked down the passageway until he came to the closest wall mike. He keyed it for the radio shack. "Amps, this is Sparks. Have you received any word?"

Amps had the third watch; Static had the second. Since he was the senior communications officer, he was always on the first watch.

There was a long pause. "Captain Crane just radioed in. They’re on their way back." The jubilation that should be in his voice was missing.

Sparks’ heart pounded. His mouth was suddenly dry. "Were there any casualties?"

Amps paused several moments. "Yes. They’re bringing back wounded-and-and they lost some, too."

Sparks leaned against the bulkhead as his legs seemed to turn to rubber. He made his way back to his quarters and got a change of clothes. Forget trying to sleep now! He quickly showered and put on a clean uniform, then headed for Sickbay.

**

Seaview-0515 hours

Captain Crane waited until the last man had entered the rear hatch, then descended and dogged it. He turned to the young Oriental officer dressed in the Won Huang Phen uniform. "Lieutenant, you will be taken to the brig for the present. When there is time, the Admiral and I will speak with you," he told the young officer. Sometimes, people in a coma are more aware than they appear to be. If such is the case, having the other men believe you’re an enemy soldier will preserve your cover.

Grabbing the wall mike from its bracket, Crane keyed. "Master-At-Arms, report to the rear escape hatch."

The Master-At-Arms soon arrived with two armed men in his wake. "Take this man to the brig. If he needs anything, be sure he gets it," ordered Captain Crane. "I’ll be in Sickbay for a while if you need to reach me."

The Master-At-Arms looked at him quizzically. "Aye, sir."

"Please hurry. I have vital information," he whispered as one of the burly sailors grasped his arm. "Time is short."

**

In Sickbay, Kowalski lay on his bunk. The intercom crackled for a moment. "Doc, we have sick and injured men," came the unmistakable voice of Captain Crane through the speaker. "Our ETA is about ten minutes."

Dr. Jamison snatched up the hand mike. "Roger, Skipper, we’ll be ready."

Dr. Jamison and his staff hurried to prepare Sickbay for the arrival of their patients. In just over ten minutes, a crewman entered, Riley’s arm slung over his shoulder as he helped him walk. Several men hobbled in, supported by their comrades. Admiral Nelson, supported by two crewmen, followed them.

Then, Lieutenant O’Brien and Sharkey entered, carrying a very pale man wrapped in a bloodstained white sheet. His light brown hair was matted with blood and dirt. Shudders wracked his body as he sobbed and whimpered very softly. Either the poor fellow was totally ashamed of showing such weakness, or he was too weak to cry anymore.

As Frank and John took hold of the sheet, the man shrank away from them. "Don’t touch me!" he implored, his voice barely above a whisper as he grabbed the blanket and held tightly.

Kowalski stared in dismay as recognition dawned on him. Oh, my God! It’s Pat. What have they done to him? Tears welled up in his eyes, but he fought them back. Pat needed him to be strong. He leaped from his bunk and was instantly beside the gurney. "Pat! Pat, take it easy, buddy. You’re safe now," he said as he began stroking Pat’s hair. "What did those bastards do to you?"

Patterson only shrugged slightly as tears trickled down each cheek. Kowalski gently wiped them away with the backs of his fingers.

Doc and Pheerse soon joined them. With one smooth, quick motion, Dr. Jamison pulled a curtain around the gurney. "I’ll have to ask you to leave, Ski," he told him.

"No, Doc, I’m staying right here with Pat, until I know what all is wrong with him," Kowalski stated, glaring at the doctor.

"Why? When you find out, you’ll hate me as much as Admiral Nelson does, maybe even more," Pat moaned, averting his face.

"Ski, I can’t determine the full extent of his injuries without conducting a thorough examination," Doc said. "Right now, he’s very apprehensive, as you can see."

Pat stirred and moaned softly. "Don’t bother, Doc. Just do Admiral Nelson and Ski and me, and everybody else a big favor. Give me a shot and put me down."

Alarm washed over Kowalski. I’ve seen Patterson worried, angry, badly hurt, possessed, delirious, and everything in between, but this goes far deeper. How can he think I could ever hate him? There’s no way I could. And how could he ask to be put down like some injured animal? "Hey, buddy, you can’t mean that!" He laid his hand on Pat’s waist in an attempt to comfort him, but Pat pushed it away.

"Yeah, I do," Pat affirmed, his tone devoid of emotion.

Dr. Jamison’s eyes narrowed; he bit his lower lip. "Patterson, I can’t. That would be murder!" Dr. Jamison motioned for Kowalski to leave. Pheerse took his arm. Numbly, he allowed himself to be led to his bunk. He lay down. Pat, you can’t just quit on me! I know you’re hurt and upset, but nothing is that bad. You’re alive. That’s all that matters. I love you. Hang in there, buddy-mine, Kowalski’s mind cried silently as he blinked back tears.

**

His heart racing, Sparks arrived outside Sickbay as Lieutenant O’Brien and Sharkey were carrying a man wrapped in a bloody sheet. His eyes met Sharkey’s for a moment as he and Mr. O’Brien carried the man into Sickbay. Sharkey’s uniform was stained with blood, but he seemed to be moving around well. Is the blood Francis’s, or someone else’s? Sparks wondered.

It seemed to take forever, but Sharkey finally emerged and retreated a short distance down the passageway. Sparks joined him, shaken by Sharkey’s paleness and very grim expression. "You all right, Francis?" he asked, giving him a searching glance as he grasped his upper arms. "Are you wounded anywhere?"

Sharkey bit his lower lip, which had begun to tremble. He took several deep breaths. "It was a meat-grinder. We lost several men. Dodson, Lambkin, Doss, and Bradford," He told him, his voice shaking. "Patterson and the Admiral-they’re in rough shape. I-I don’t know if Pat--." He shuddered, his voice trailing off. He gripped Sparks’ upper arms; Sparks could feel the dampness of his palms.

If Francis is this shaken up, it must have been hell, Sparks thought. "Francis, it’s over now. You’re back safe and sound, thank God," he murmured, hoping his words would provide his lover some comfort.

Sharkey bowed his head, his forehead touching Sparks’ chest. "Patterson was raped. Don’t say anything to the rest of the men about it."

"I won’t, Francis." At the revelation, Sparks suddenly felt chilled. Sparks draped his arms loosely around Sharkey, barely fighting the urge to pull him close. "I know you don’t want us to attract any undue attention to our relationship, but I had to know if you were all right."

"’S’okay, Petey." Sharkey raised his head. Sparks stared into Sharkey’s brown eyes, noting a slight widening of the lids, indicating pleasure. "I-I’m glad you showed up. Knowing you’re back here waiting for me, pulling for me to come back-well, it makes a real difference."

You’ve come a long way, Francis. When we first got together, you would have worried that some of the men would notice something and what that might do to your masculine image. "I wish I could do something to help you." Sparks ached for the turmoil that he knew Sharkey was going through.

A trace of a smile parted Sharkey’s lips. "You have, Petey, believe me. Much more than you know."

Seaview shuddered, then rocked from side to side for a moment. They fell together against the bulkhead as they momentarily lost their footing. Sparks lost no time in embracing Sharkey before he stepped back.

Their eyes met. No doubt about it. That tremor lasted longer.

**

Dr. William Jamison waited for the shot of sedation to take effect. Pheerse inserted an IV into a vein in Patterson’s arm to help replenish his fluids and normalize his blood sugar. Then Doc began examining him. He was hardly recognizable as the technician he knew as Steven Patterson. Unfortunately, the many deep bruises and welts were the most minor of his injuries.

As Doc continued to examine Patterson, it took every bit of his professional training to remain calm. His testicles had obviously been handled so roughly that they were swollen and bruised. Palpation revealed, thankfully, they had not been ruptured. It would take time, but they would heal. His penis had three places where the membrane had been abraded, probably from fisting. He examined Pat’s rectum, unable to refrain from cringing at the raw, torn tissues. With utmost gentleness, he inserted a finger and examined him inside. There was a lot of swelling; the tissues were much warmer than normal, indicating fever and the setting in of infection. His prostate, normally the size of a walnut, was now the size of a large lemon, probably the result of tearing. He felt Pat’s abdomen, noting the distention of his bladder. The swelling would make urination impossible.

Doc took slides of the fluids found there to examine later. I pray to God none of them had AIDS. If they did, Pat will assuredly get it.

"Get a catheter kit," Doc instructed Pheerse. "Take a sample for urinalysis as soon as you get him catheterized."

When Pheerse had the catheter in place, he noted the redness and murkiness of the urine that drained into the bag. There had indeed been tearing; infection was rapidly setting in.

"Give him Keflex, IV, one thousand milligrams," Doc ordered. "When I get the cultures back on the samples, I’ll change his antibiotic if necessary."

Doc wished all Pat’s injuries would be as easily treatable. What really had him worried were the injuries that he couldn’t palpate or see. The mind is such a strange and complicated mechanism. Pat had undergone a terrible trauma, one that had destroyed many otherwise strong men. He had seen it several times before.

The only one who had seemed to bounce completely back from such an ordeal had been Lee Crane. Doc had done everything he could for him, but Admiral Nelson’s gentleness and love and understanding had done far more. Coupled with Crane’s determination, it had brought him back.

But Ski was another matter. Although not abusive, he was completely consumed by anger over what had happened to Patterson. That anger could quite possibly get in the way of his thinking and spill onto everything, including Patterson. That was the last thing Patterson needed. The obvious physical injuries were well within Ski’s understanding, but could he remain calm enough to give Patterson the compassion and concern he was going to need to recover mentally and emotionally?

For Patterson’s sake, Doc hoped so.

**

Behind the drawn privacy curtain, Captain Crane sat on Doc’s rolling stool beside the bunk where Admiral Nelson lay facing him, his head bandaged and an IV in his arm. His trembling hands were doubled into fists. He stared straight ahead, as if he did not see anything.

Captain Crane brushed a strand of auburn hair from his pasty white forehead, and then trailed a finger over his swollen lips. He wanted to tenderly kiss Harry’s bruised face. Although the other patients seemed to all be asleep, he was not going to take a chance on anyone peeking in.

Jesus, he looks so tired and drained. He’s on the razor’s edge of a nervous breakdown. Whatever happened back there had to be pure hell to do that to him. Taking the Admiral’s hand in his left one, he stroked the back of it with the fingertips of his right hand. His heart ached for the man who meant as much to him as his own life.

"Admiral, you’re aboard Seaview. You’re safe now," Crane told him, his tone extremely gentle. "We got the codebook back, as well as the bogus blueprints."

"Lee, now I know what you went through when those men aboard the NubarakD did what they did to you. And they injured Patterson a lot worse than those other men did you. Patterson gave them information to prevent them from doing it to me," he declared, gripping Captain Crane’s hand. "They took turns with him, one after the other, at both ends at once. And they tried their damndest to hurt him. He was lying in a pool of his own blood." A tear trickled down Nelson’s right cheek.

Crane quickly brushed it away with his thumb. "Try and get some sleep now, Harry," he coaxed.

"I don’t want to sleep," murmured Admiral Nelson, his rich voice thick with choked sobs. "I’m afraid it’ll all come back. What they were going to do to me. And what they did to Patterson. And it will make me think about what happened to you." Admiral Nelson licked his lips and swallowed, then continued.

"Then, that enemy captain stuck a cattle prod on Pat’s testicles and shocked him. He still refused to tell them anything. Then, they stuck the prod up his rectum and shocked him. He passed out cold. I thought they had killed him for a minute. When he still didn’t tell them anything, the captain ordered them to let Patterson go and strip me. He could watch me get the same treatment. Then, Patterson began to cry and told them where to find the things they were interested in. I told him I’d see him in hell; that he would hang for what he did. Something in him seemed to give way then."

Poor Patterson! Captain Crane thought. He has an extremely high sense of honor. He might have died before revealing anything to save himself, but he knows how important the Admiral and his contributions to the world and to our Armed Forces are. He always admired the Admiral, but his admiration grew exponentially after his father was killed three years ago. And no one could even begin to know how wretched he felt about being raped, especially in front of everybody.

"But I didn’t mean it, Lee. I had to make those Won Huang Phen soldiers think they had the real blueprints. Besides, if they transmitted the contents of the codebook to their facilities in Won Huang Phen, that they would change the codes."

I don’t know all of it, myself, Crane thought ruefully. "You did what you had to do," he soothed.

"I believe Patterson had almost reached the end of his endurance, but he would have tried to tough it out if they hadn’t planned on hurting me. That was what made him talk."

"Maybe I shouldn’t be glad Pat did what he did, but I am," Crane told him, sobs catching in his voice. "Granted, the fact he talked was unfortunate, but I hope you won’t be too hard on him." Yes, devotion to duty is the foundation of our lives, but it’s sometimes better to yield and live to serve another day. "I hope he pulls through."

Admiral Nelson’s eyes filled with tears. "So do I. I owe him a lot."

Captain Crane leaned closer and brushed Admiral Nelson’s forehead with his fingers. With the heart arrhythmias you’ve had, you’d have probably died if they had done that to you, he thought as a shiver ran through him. They might as well have killed me, too. Very quickly and softly, he brushed Admiral Nelson’s lips with his own. "And I owe him a lot more," he whispered.

**

Kowalski heard Admiral Nelson mention Patterson’s name. As he listened to the Admiral and the Skipper talk, he bit his lower lip to keep from crying. His thoughts churned as violently as his stomach. No! Not Pat! My God! Men have died from less! He’s a helluva a fighter to survive that!

Kowalski stood, striking his head on the bunk above him. Ignoring the pain from the bump on his head, he walked to where Captain Crane was talking to Admiral Nelson. "Skipper, Admiral, what happened to Pat on Twon Gyek?" he demanded, his voice rough with pent-up emotion. Although Kowalski had heard the details, his mind did not want to accept the revelation.

Admiral Nelson and Captain Crane looked at each other.

Captain Crane turned to Kowalski. "He-He was-raped, Ski. Repeatedly," said the Captain.

The next few moments blurred together in a red haze. A rage greater than any he had ever known flashed through him. He struck the bulkheads, only vaguely aware of the pain in his hands or the fact that they were bleeding. He whirled on the enemy captain, lying in a nearby bunk. He was unconscious and hooked up to IV’s containing blood and other fluids. "I’ll kill him! I’ll kill that son of a bitch with my bare hands!" raged Kowalski, ripping the IV’s out of his arms.

"Ski, no!" Crane shouted, grabbing him. Pheerse and the other corpsmen came running to Captain Crane’s aid. "If we can save him, we can turn him over to ONI headquarters. They have ways of getting information."

Then, Doc approached with a hypodermic needle. Quickly, he administered the injection. As the shot took effect, the rage ebbed. A feeling of helpless indignation took its place. Kowalski collapsed against Captain Crane as sobs forced their way out.

For several minutes, the Captain and Doc held him firmly. Then, Captain Crane and Pheerse eased him into his bunk and pulled the covers over him. He was vaguely aware of someone swabbing his hands. Soon, he was asleep.

**

As Captain Crane entered the Control Room, he could feel the tension. He scanned the ballast indicator panel, the attitude controls, and the knots indicators. They were at a dead stop at a hundred and twenty feet below the surface, one nautical mile south of the Than Ling Doh border.

"Sir, I’m picking up several surface vessels ranging in size from small gunboats to destroyers. There are possibly two battleships as well," announced Seaman Gaston from his position at the sonar screen. "They’re traveling south at approximately fifty knots."

Captain Crane immediately stepped to the console. The ominous blips on the screen were definitely surface ships. Considering their direction of origin, there could be only one possibility.

"Captain Crane, this is Sparks. There is a Top Priority message coming in from COMSUBPAC. Admiral Simpson has asked that it be put through the speaker system."

"Very well." Captain Crane consented. "Tell him to begin any time you’re ready," he told the young communications officer.

In a moment, Admiral Simpson’s voice came through the boat’s PA system. "Officers and enlisted personnel of all United States and Allied forces, I regret to inform you that Won Huang Phen has attacked Than Ling Doh with ground troops. Also, several ships of the Won Huang Phen navy are moving south toward Than Ling Doh. All United States Naval and Marine forces have been placed on Yellow Alert."

Soon after the announcement concluded, the control room intercom crackled again. "Captain, Admiral Simpson wants to speak with Admiral Nelson," Sparks said.

"I’ll talk to him," Captain Crane told Sparks, then replaced the hand mike in its holder and strode to the radio shack. As he entered, Sparks pulled off his headphones and handed them to him.

Captain Crane put them on. Sparks pushed the button to TRANSMIT. "Admiral Simpson, this is Captain Crane of the SSRN Seaview," he said. "Admiral Nelson is presently indisposed." He then pressed the button marked RECEIVE.

"It’s of paramount importance that I speak to him," Admiral Simpson insisted.

"I’m sorry, sir, but he is in Sickbay under the care of our physician," Captain Crane informed him.

"Captain Crane, we are in the middle of a-a situation that could deteriorate to the point of nuclear war. Won Huang Phen and the Slavic Democratic States are aware of your presence in the area. Watch out for attacks by enemy vessels. And I hope Admiral Nelson recovers very quickly. Without him-without Seaview-." There was a pause. "The whole world may be lost."

**

Sparks blinked, willing his eyes to stay open. My watch will end in fifteen more minutes. When it does, I’ll grab a glass of milk in the galley and go straight to my cabin. I think I could sleep through a depth charging right now.

A knock startled him. "Come in," he said.

Sharkey stepped through, carrying a plate with two sandwiches and a large covered cup with a straw sticking out of it. "Hey, Petey. I thought you might like something to eat," Sharkey said, his voice warm and affectionate. "They’re chicken salad. One of your favorites."

At the sight of the food, his stomach knotted with hunger, almost making him sick. "Thanks." He had not been out of the radio shack since his watch began except for one very quick trip to the head. As he monitored the military broadcasts coming from Asia, things were becoming tenser. Since this watch was his responsibility, he was not going to take a chance on something happening while he was gone.

Sparks took the paper plate containing the sandwiches and was about to remove the plastic wrap when the red lights indicating an INCOMING MESSAGE and TOP PRIORITY began to flash. Sparks pressed the RECEIVE button. "This is Seaview. Go ahead. Over."

"This is a message from the Office of the President of the United States of America. Stand by for authentication code."

Sparks stood and pulled the key to the cabinet with the authentication codes from his shirt. Hurriedly, he turned the key and pulled open the door. Selecting the proper envelope, he tore it open and unfolded the small sheet of paper.

As the familiar voice at the other end read the authentication code, Sparks prayed the code would turn out to be phony, or that he would announce that it had been a readiness drill. Neither happened.

Sparks began eating and drinking as the President’s voice came through the speakers. "This is the President of the United States. As you know, the Armed Forces of Won Huang Phen have attacked its neighbor to the South, Than Ling Doh. I have stated that the President of Won Huang Phen should order an immediate cease-fire of all Won Huang Phen’s armed forces, and to begin an immediate withdrawal. If the president of Won Huang Phen refuses to comply with our request to withdraw his invasion forces from Than Ling Doh, the United States will have no choice but to intervene on behalf of Than Ling Doh. We will keep you updated on this very serious situation."

Moments before, Sparks had been ravenous. Now, he had to force himself to eat.

**

Dr. Jamison sank into the chair behind his desk. He inhaled deeply, then blew it out. What a godawful day! he thought. He rubbed his burning eyes and reached for the cup of coffee that Pheerse placed in front of him.

"As soon as we finish this report, go and get some sleep," said Pheerse, laying a hand over his and squeezing it lightly. "I’ll hold down the fort for a while."

Doc’s stared into the worried greenish-gray eyes of his Pharmacist’s Mate, friend, and lover. The thought of sinking onto his mattress and letting sleep momentarily blot out everything was so tempting. If the men had been suffering from a bout of flu or other more common malady, he would probably have taken Pheerse up on it. However, he felt this particular situation required his presence.

All the men on the island, except one, had been suffering from dehydration and heat prostration, as well as various other bruises and wounds. Also, their blood sugar levels had dropped low enough to make them very weak, which indicated that they had not been allowed to eat since being taken prisoner.

Only Malcolm had somehow come through the ordeal without any symptoms of dehydration or not eating. Upon palpation, his stomach and intestines had been fairly full. The only injuries he had some bruises on his face and welts on his chest. A large bruise on his back indicated he had been struck by a blunt object. After completely examining Malcolm, Doc had released him. Something isn’t right about this, thought Doc. He would definitely mention it to the Skipper later.

The other men were not the problem. He was keeping them for observation for twenty-four hours as a precaution, but did not expect any problems from them. The man whom he had been told was the officer in charge of the attacking force, Captain Plingh Haitong, was in extremely guarded condition from several bullet wounds in the torso. Dr. Jamison had done everything medically possible for him. It was touch and go as to whether he would make it or not. More go than touch, he observed as he studied his medical chart. One of his men, who had been taken unharmed, was in the brig.

Admiral Nelson and Patterson were another matter. Not only was the Admiral suffering the effects of being without food or water for an extended period in a very hot, humid environment, as well as being beaten in the head and face, he also had scratches on his nipples. His physical injuries were not severe enough to cause concern. However, his mental state had him uneasy. Perhaps a sound sleep was all that the Admiral needed to correct his problems.

Kowalski was almost fully recovered from his bout of salmonella and its complications. Doc debated keeping him. He still ran fever and ached, but there were other factors to consider. The captain of the enemy unit who had captured and tortured Seaview’s men was lying in Sickbay. It was doubtful if he would make it, but if given a chance, Kowalski might assist him in leaving the world. He had been ready to rip the man apart earlier. Doc was not about to allow that to happen. If ONI could extract information from the man, it could prove invaluable. Above all, this was his Sickbay, not an execution chamber.

Doc was especially concerned about Patterson. Not only was Patterson suffering the effects of dehydration as well as his other injuries; he had lost a fair amount of blood.

His mental state was extremely precarious.

**

Thick gray fog-comforting emptiness-surrounded him, offering the peace and solitude he ached for. In the darkness, there was no humiliation, or shame. No one stared at him with contempt-filled eyes. No one hated him. Even the intense pain had almost gone entirely.

Then, someone turned on lights-floodlights, maybe. "Patterson, it’s Dr. Jamison. Can you hear me?"

He tried to ignore the voice, but it compelled his attention.

"Pat, I’ll have to recheck you now."

They’ll hurt me again! he thought. "No!" Patterson managed weakly.

"If you cooperate, it won’t take as long as it will if you fight me," Dr. Jamison stated. "Besides, I don’t want to hurt you. I might if you are fighting me when I try to examine you."

He felt the sheet being pulled away. Cooler air contacted his skin, chilling him momentarily. The doctor and someone else were handling him, probing him, causing him discomfort. Will they ever get tired of staring at me; of hurting me?

"Kowalski, you can see him now," said the doctor as he and the man who was with him departed.

Kowalski? He wants to see me? He wouldn’t have ever betrayed his country or the Admiral-or me. God, he must hate me! Hate me as much as I still love him, if not more!

Why? Is it duty to me and his memory of me as a friend? Maybe. More likely, he’s here to watch me suffer just like what I deserve to do. The Admiral will prefer charges against me. I’ll get a court-martial. If I’m convicted of treason, I’ll probably be executed. Ski will probably ask to be allowed on the firing squad. And I know he couldn’t love me if he’s heard about what happened, especially with that one fellow. In fact, Ski would kill me. I still can’t believe that bastard could make me get horny! Patterson thought as wave after wave of unmitigated shame washed over him.

A strong, yet gentle hand took his, gently squeezing it. "Pat, how are you feeling? You’re not quite as pale as you were," Ski told him, his tone very gentle. Pat felt Ski’s other hand rest on his shoulder.

No matter how hard he tried to sink back into the blackness, he was irresistibly drawn to Ski’s strong, reassuring voice and his magnetic, comforting touch.

Pat shook his head weakly. He could not bring himself to look at Ski.

"Pat, you’re strong. You’re brave! And-and you and I have had a lot of great times together. We’ve got a helluva thing going. Makes Conoco look like huge icicle."

Pat couldn’t help smiling at the comparison to "the hottest brand going". You can say that again! he thought.

He felt Ski’s grasp tighten slightly. "Believe me, Pat. You’re going to get through this!" Ski declared.

At the thought of living with the pain and the memories, a shudder ran through him as a terrible, gripping dread chilled him to the bone.

**

Admiral Nelson woke with a start. Sickbay! I’ve got to get out of here. Abruptly, he sat up in his bunk, then lay back down as a wave of nausea and weakness hit him.

Lee, my beloved, I knew what you went through aboard the Nubarak was bad, but I never realized what a living hell it was for you.

He forced his mind back to the present. Patterson is a bright, sensitive young man-little more than a boy. Can his coping mechanisms deal with a trauma of such magnitude? And I can’t stop feeling I’m responsible for it!

The map of the Yo Shingh Empire with all its nuclear missile silos appeared in his mind’s eye. Something about the location of two of nuclear installations troubled him. Dear God in heaven! A shiver coursed through him as he realized the implications. They’re right on the Zhai Dak fault line! For some unknown reason, the Asian Plate is fracturing, starting at Zhai Dak, then zigzagging Feng Jai and Thoh Ti and down to Shentak and into the South Yo Shingh Sea. But there is no reason for the Asian Plate to splinter like that!

It doesn’t matter what’s causing it. As unstable as that fault is, the forces exerted during a launch of the nuclear missiles could touch off a massive earthquake! If the launch didn’t, the retaliatory strike would. The damage to this part of the world would be beyond calculation. Tidal waves would inundate Than Ling Doh and Won Huang Phen, as well as many other countries. The extreme eastern portion of the Yo Shingh Empire could fall into the East Yo Shingh Sea.

"Admiral, lie back down," Doc ordered as he rushed from his office. "You’re still very weak. You have a mild concussion."

"I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to contact the President. I have to have him to tell President Yun Chengdu that if he launches the missiles from the silos located at Feng Jai and Thoh Ti, the vibrations may cause another earthquake. The Asian Plate may fracture and the eastern portion of the Yo Shingh Empire may fall into the East Yo Shingh Sea."

"Not right now, Admiral. You have to rest," Doc said firmly.

"I have to call the President and have him arrange for a team of seismologists to investigate why that section of the Asian Plate is breaking up!" protested Admiral Nelson.

Very carefully, Admiral Nelson sat up. The room spun around him. I’ve got to give Lee and Chip a full briefing about Operation Guardian. It has three parts. Operation Father, Operation Mother, and Operation Protector, he thought frantically. If any one of these phases isn’t executed properly, and in their proper sequence, and on time, the results will be earth destroying.

Suddenly, everything went black.

**

Captain Crane showered, shaved, and put on a clean uniform. He was leaving his cabin to go to Sickbay when the interphone deedled. He snatched it from its cradle, his heart pounding. "Captain Crane here," he said.

"Lee, this is Jamie. I thought you might want to know the Admiral woke up. He was very agitated. He said he had to contact the President and have him contact President Yun Chengdu of the Yo Shingh Empire. He said the Asian Plate was fracturing, starting at Zhai Dak, then zigzagging through Feng Jai and Thoh Ti and down to Shentak and into the South Yo Shingh Sea bed. He said he didn’t know why, but a team of seismologists needs to investigate. He says that he needs to contact our President and have him tell President Yun Chengdu that if the they launch nuclear missiles from the Feng Jai and Thoh Ti silos, it could trigger a massive earthquake and that the eastern part of the Yo Shingh Empire could fall into the East Yo Shingh Sea."

"Tell the Admiral I’ll contact our President and have him convey the message,"

Captain Crane told Doc, then hung up and asked Sparks to contact the President.

Several minutes later, Sparks notified him that he had the President on Line One. Captain Crane filled in the President on what the Admiral had told him.

"I will try, but it will probably be futile," said the President. "Right now, President Yun Chengdu and his advisors do not want to discuss the earthquakes with anyone. Than Ling Doh and Sheksung do. They are feeling the aftershocks from them. That is why NIMR became involved in the first place."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Captain Crane said, feeling much dispair and a little hope at the same time. The President had the respect of the world community. Perhaps the Yo Shingh Empire’s government would reconsider.

That is strange, Captain Crane murmured. If a fault line were running through my country and could topple part of it into the ocean, I’d be trying to find out why. Something’s not right somewhere.

**

From the doorway of the Aft Crew’s quarters, Chief Sharkey heard angry voices. He paused for a moment.

"Hey, Riley, you were there. You heard everything," Malcolm said.

"Stow it," Riley grumbled. "Give Patterson a break. After all, you weren’t--." Riley broke off. "What happened didn’t happen to you."

Malcolm snorted. "Patterson asked for what happened to him-asked for it-pure and simple!"

Suddenly, there was the sound of scuffling. I ought to leave and let those guys tear that son of a bitch apart! Sharkey thought. Years of discipline prevailed, however. He stepped into the room. "Hold it right there!" he barked.

Riley and Malone let go of Malcolm. "Riley, Malone, report to the Missile Room," he ordered. Delgados and Bledsoe glowered at Malcolm and walked out of the room. Sharkey made no move to stop them.

Malcolm started for the door, also. "Hold it right there," growled Sharkey.

Malcolm halted, his lips parted in a sneer. "Yes, Chief?" The insolence in his voice was impossible to miss. With the world on the brink of war, maybe even nuclear holocaust, I have to deal with this spineless piece of shit. If it would not have meant his stripes, he would have busted Malcolm’s chops himself. "If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your damn mouth shut. If you say that around the wrong person--,"

Snorting, Malcolm cut off the Chief in mid-sentence. "Go ahead and say it. You mean Kowalski," he said with a sneer.

Chief Sharkey refused to be baited by the insolent bastard. "I won’t be responsible for the results," he rasped through gritted teeth. "Now, report to the Ballast Tank Room."

**

Malcolm stomped toward the Ballast Tank Room. When he arrived, he flung open the door, then slammed it shut.

"What’s eating you?" his relief inquired, scowling.

After glaring at him for a moment, he finally turned and checked the readings. All were normal. The other man left, closing the door behind him.

Wonder what Kowalski would have said if he had seen his precious, fair-haired Patterson, coming all over that enemy captain’s hand. That would have been priceless!

The memory of the trouble Patterson had caused him to get into still stung. The diving team was setting out underwater monitoring units to record the tremors. Three of them malfunctioned, necessitating going back out. He, Kowalski, and Patterson, had gone out to check them out. While they were out there, Kowalski determined the units would have to be taken back aboard Seaview. Each man had taken a unit and headed back to Seaview. On the way back, two sharks had swum close to them. He had tossed the unit onto the ocean floor and swum for Seaview with all his strength. Patterson had turned around and gone back after the unit he had dropped. Granted, it had slowed him down to carry both units, but that had been his decision.

When Kowalski and Patterson had gotten back aboard, Patterson had glowered at him. "What the hell’s the matter with you?" he had demanded.

"You saw those sharks. They could’ve eaten us for lunch," he had replied.

Then, Kowalski had opened his big mouth. "Those sharks weren’t bothering anybody. Unless you are bleeding or are on the surface thrashing around, they generally won’t bother you. We had to pick up those units. Do you realize how important these readings are? These units cost a big bundle. We can’t just toss them down because we get scared of some big fish that aren’t a threat. Besides, if they had become aggressive, Patterson might not have been able to fend off both of them by himself!" he had ranted.

When Chief Sharkey heard what had happened, he had sided with Kowalski and Patterson. "Sailor, I’m putting you on report," he had declared, glaring at him.

Then, Captain Crane had called him in. Of course, he had officially reprimanded him.

Some of the others talked in whispers of several men who had become-to put it delicately-unusually close. Kowalski and Patterson had been two of the men named.

The very thought made him want to vomit. Any man who would even think of doing such a thing deserves worse than death!

When this mission is over, I’m leaving Seaview. If I’d gotten the job I wanted as a radio repairman aboard one of the new cruise ships of American Dream Lines, I never would have even looked at Seaview. But dear old Mom and Dad were at it again. I did two years in the Navy like my Old Man wanted; I stayed in the Naval Reserves, but was that enough? Hell, no! He wanted to make me career Navy man like he was, but it’ll be a snowy day in hell. When I leave this ship of fools, it’ll be goodbye and good riddance!

**

Almost two days later, Patterson’s condition still appeared to be essentially the same. Kowalski stared at Pat, watching the light rise and fall of his chest. Even though Pat had been heavily sedated; his face was still drawn and troubled. His boyish face suddenly looked much older. Instinctively, Kowalski reached out and stroked his face and hair, then took Pat’s hand in his.

Patterson stiffened, but Kowalski did not let go of his hand. "I’m here, Pat. Just hang in there, buddy-mine. There’s going to be a better day. I promise you. I’ve never lied to you before, and I won’t do it now."

Pat licked his lips and turned away. "I’d rather remember the way you looked at me when you loved me; the way it was even when we were good friends. But I couldn’t stand to see you despise me like Admiral Nelson does," he slurred drowsily.

"Admiral Nelson doesn’t hate you! Why would I hate you? That doesn’t make sense!" Kowalski said gently.

Pat’s body began to shudder. "Because I betrayed my oath and revealed secret information to the enemy. And I was-was-unfaithful to you," he said, his voice trembling.

Kowalski could see that his friend was still terribly upset. "Talk to me, buddy-mine," he urged him gently. "Tell me everything. It can’t be like what you think it is. I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere."

After a few uneasy moments, the sedation once more took effect. Patterson stopped trembling and closed his eyes once more. As Kowalski looked down at him, his heart broke.

So many feelings flooded him-relief at having Patterson return alive, rage at Patterson’s captors, guilt at not being there when it went down and unable to do anything to stop it, anger at Patterson for shutting him out, but most of all, anger at himself for not being able to get through to him. If he said the right thing, he could help Pat put the awful time behind him.

Kowalski felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Dr. Jamison. "He looks like a-a-battered angel," Kowalski whispered, his voice trembling. Suddenly embarrassed at his display of emotion, he laughed a trifle. "Don’t get me wrong, Doc. He’s no ivory tower kid, but he looks so innocent and vulnerable sometimes. Right now, especially."

"Your ‘angel’ is very bruised and sore, and very, very hurt," Doc told him. "Ski, I’d like to talk to you in my office."

Kowalski’s eyes met Doc’s. "Of course. I was hoping I could talk to you about him," he said as he followed Doc into his office, where Doc shut the door and motioned him to have a seat.

Kowalski sat down in the chair in front of Doc’s desk. "Patterson has been very badly injured, Ski," Doc declared. "His injuries are of a very personal and--." He hesitated a moment. "Sensitive nature."

Kowalski nodded. "I know he was assaulted sexually." He paused. "Will Pat pull through?" asked Kowalski, dreading the answer he might hear.

"He has tested negative for syphilis and gonorrhea, as well as other diseases. His HIV test will take several more days. His physical injuries will be healed in about a month." Doc worried at his lower lip with his upper teeth as he gave Kowalski an appraising look. "His mental and emotional damage--." Doc tapped the desktop with his pencil. "That’s another matter."

"What can I do to help him?" asked Kowalski. "I’ll do anything I can."

"Be there for him. Let him know you care. Right now, he feels absolutely worthless. That’s common after rape and sexual abuse. It’s also common for a victim to blame himself or herself for not being able to stop the attack."

"But that’s absurd! It-It was an act of cruelty; of violence. He didn’t go out to the wrong bar behind my back and have some kinky guys make him the center of attention. He didn’t have any control over what happened!"

"I’m glad you realize that. Sometimes, the one closest to a person may even blame the victim for the incident."

"The only thing I’m upset at him for is that he’s shutting me out," Kowalski confessed.

"Try not to feel that way," Doc admonished. "He’s furious at everything. At the enemy soldiers for what they did, even at himself because he couldn’t stop it from happening. And he blames himself for revealing information that he shouldn’t have, in order to stop it from happening to someone else. Rape is the ultimate act of degradation and debasement, anyway, but to top it all off, this happened in front of his fellow crewmen and his highest-ranking superior officer."

"I know that every man has his breaking point. I’m not sure I could have held out if I had been in his place, so I’m not going to condemn him. Besides, I heard he talked in order to save the Admiral from having the same thing done to him," Kowalski said. "And the Admiral said something to make Patterson think he hates him."

Doc’s eyes met his. "Right now, Pat is irrational. He won’t talk about what happened; he is holding it all in. Eventually, if he’s lucky, something will trigger a release of all the pent-up emotion. Then, he will really begin to heal."

"How long will it be before that happens?" asked Kowalski.

"There’s no way of knowing," Doc told him, then took a deep breath. "I realize I may be overstepping my boundaries here, but any significant other in Pat’s life had better be prepared to give him plenty of space for a while. Although the physical injuries will be healed enough to allow sexual intercourse to take place in about a month, his mental trauma probably will not. A sex partner may find him withdrawn and distant. He won’t want to be touched or to touch anyone else."

Kowalski flushed and looked down at the deck for a few seconds as Doc scrutinized him. Does Doc know about him and me? We’ve never told anyone. \Doc’s gaze bored into him. "Be very gentle with him, Ski. Don’t rush things. If his care isn’t carefully managed, he could retreat into himself and not come back."

An icy shiver coursed through Kowalski.

**

A red light on his radio panel began flashing. It was on the upper frequency band, used by military broadcasts. Sparks isolated the frequency and checked his sheet in the back of his Operations Manual. Its point of origin was the White House. He pressed the RECEIVE button. "This is a Top Priority message from the Office of the President of the United States. I have a Top Secret message for Admiral Harriman Nelson and the men of the Seaview."

"This is Seaview. Please stand by."

Sparks punched the interphone numbers of Admiral Nelson and Captain Crane. "I have a Presidential message coming in for Admiral Nelson and the men of the Seaview, sir."

"This is Captain Crane. Put it on the speaker system."

Sparks punched the button that would send the broadcast throughout the boat.

"Go ahead, sir."

"As of ten minutes ago, the Yo Shingh Empire and the Slavic Democratic States have threatened to enter the conflict on the side of Won Huang Phen if we take any action to defend Than Ling Doh. Great Britain, France, Germany, and our other Allies have taken a stand of noninvolvement at this time. Only Sheksung, a small island country off the coast of the Yo Shingh Empire, states that it will support the United States in this matter.

"Than Ling Doh President, Chun Ven Klai, has elicited our aid in repelling the forces of Won Huang Phen as they attack his country. As you know, we spent years in a conflict with them back in the early nineteen-fifties. Now, we must once again defend this smaller country from the forces of tyranny and Communism.

"Despite the statements made by Yo Shingh Empire’s president, Yun Chengdu, and the Premier of the Slavic Democratic States, Cadimir Volokov, we will act in support of our long-time ally, Than Ling Doh.

"Carrier-based planes are on their way to targets in Won Huang Phen, as you are hearing this message. Army installations and Air Force bases are being constructed in Than Ling Doh and Sheksung, as well as other nearby places. The National Guard and the Army Reserves at home are being immobilized. Personnel will be deployed to the Far-East theater of operations within forty-eight hours. Army airborne troops will be deployed within three hours. If forces of the Yo Shingh Empire and the Slavic Democratic States send opposing forces to intercept them, they will be dealt with immediately, with deadly force."

"The spirit of the United States fighting personnel is second to none. Our cause is right. May God protect us in the battles to come." A moment later, Captain Crane glanced at the Fail Safe panel just in time to see the status indicator change from PEACE to STANDBY. Mr. Morton, who was standing at the plot table, met his gaze, his blue eyes wide.

**

Doc was checking Patterson’s catheter when an insistent wail sounded from the bunk across from where the gurney was parked. Doc bounded to the man’s bed. A flat line crawled across the screen of the EEG.

Pheerse, who was checking Riley’s vital signs, quickly removed the BP cuff and joined him. Captain Plingh Haitong lay on his back with his mouth open. His chest was completely still. His unseeing eyes stared up at the bunk above him. Doc shone his penlight into the man’s eyes. The pupils were completely dilated and unreactive to light. Pheerse grabbed an Ambu-bag and began ventilating the captain as Doc began doing the compressions, counting the mnemonics.

"Stop compressions," Doc ordered at the end of four sets of compressions. He checked for a carotid pulse as Pheerse turned on the defibrillator and smeared gel on the paddles, then handed the paddles to Doc. He shocked the captain’s heart, then Pheerse began bagging him again.

For thirty more minutes, Doc and Pheerse did everything they could, but it was no use. "Stop resuscitation," Doc finally commanded. Considering his injuries, it’s a wonder he survived this long. He turned off the defibrillator. "Time of death: 0329 hours."

"I’ll go and get a body bag," Pheerse told Doc, then left Sickbay. In about ten minutes, he returned with the familiar, large triple-zippered black bag.

Doc and Pheerse deftly pushed the top sheet against the bulkhead, then pulled out the soiled bottom sheet and pushed it under the corpse as far as possible. Then, they rolled the body onto its side and pushed the sheet against the bulkhead, also.

Pheerse unzipped the body bag and rolled the front portion tightly. Then, they placed it behind the back of the corpse and rolled him onto his back once more. They partially rolled him away from them, then unrolled the bag and let the corpse flop back. They sealed all the layers.

Doc picked up the hand mike. "I need four men to report to Sickbay," he said.

Soon, four men appeared. "Take this to the reefer on C Deck where the other bodies are," Doc instructed.

As usual, bodies were stored in the huge food refrigeration units after being sealed in body bags. Final disposal would be up to Captain Crane.

Doc picked up the interphone and punched in the number of Captain Crane’s cabin. "This is the Captain," declared the Skipper.

"This is Jamie."

A sharp intake of breath came through the receiver. "Doc, what’s wrong? The Admiral seemed to be doing much better when I visited him just before you ran me off and ordered me to go to bed."

What was I thinking of? I must have scared Captain Crane to death! "The Admiral is resting comfortably," he assured him. "I thought you’d want to know. Captain Haitong is dead."

There was silence several moments. "I know you did all you could, Jamie." Doc could hear Captain Crane sigh heavily. "But if we could have learned how much Won Huang Phen knew about our defense systems and plans, it could make a big difference. Perhaps all the difference in the world."

**

A red light flashed, indicating an incoming message. Sparks leaned forward and flipped the switch to the RECEIVE position.

"This is an urgent broadcast from the office of the President of the United States to all United States Armed Forces operating around the world. The Slavic Democratic States have announced their support of Won Huang Phen. Premier Cadimir Volokov has stated that he and his government will take radical steps against the United States if there are any more air strikes against military targets in Won Huang Phen.

"However, we are pledged to protect our smaller Allies and fight for the cause of freedom anywhere it is threatened. We did not want this conflict, but we will see it through. We have no intention of letting our ally, Than Ling Doh, be invaded and conquered by those who would wish to take away their basic freedoms that we are pledged to protect and defend.

"The air strikes will continue. The air strikes will be escalated if Won Huang Phen does not immediately withdraw its forces from Than Ling Doh. We will notify you of any further developments as soon as they occur. This concludes our broadcast." The transmission ended.

Sparks took a deep breath and blew it out. Outside the cubicle, he heard the men become quiet, then began to murmur.

Francis has got his hands full. The crew will be very anxious. Right now, he’s got to see that they are on their toes and don’t show undue signs of stress. He’s so together, even when everything is falling apart! I don’t know how he does it.

A burst of static startled him. He looked at the communications console, waiting. The next message could be-the Big One.

**

Captain Crane picked up the hand mike and keyed it. "Master at Arms."

"Master-At-Arms, aye," replied the voice of Ryan McKendrick.

"Release Michael Li Chu from the brig. He’s actually one of ours."

"Did you say he’s really one of ours, Captain?" There was a long pause before the Master-At-Arms came on the speaker again. "Sir, he has been wanting to speak to you and Admiral Nelson."

"I’m in my cabin. Have Lieutenant Li Chu report to me on the double."

"Aye, aye, sir."

**

Lieutenant, JG Peter Anthony Colton wiped his sweating palms on his trousers. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the pen and logged in the message, his hand trembling as he did so. I was stressed big-time when I was challenging the final submariner qualifications test, but nothing like this. Even when I was meeting with the Bentons after I was released from the hospital, I don’t recall being this anxious.

The familiar red light came on again. Sparks pressed the RECEIVE button.

"This is the Office of the President of the United States of America," the well-known voice intoned. "I have a Top Priority message for the officers and men of the Seaview."

After the authentication code had been checked, Sparks flipped the switch so that the transmission would be broadcast throughout the boat.

"I have just been informed by the Premier of the Slavic Democratic States that if we are not withdrawing our forces from the Than Ling Doh conflict by the end of two hours, that they will launch their first wave of nuclear missiles at preselected targets in the United States and Than Ling Doh. At almost the same moment, the President of the Yo Shingh Empire contacted this office stating that at the same time the Slavic Democratic States launches their missiles, they will also launch their missiles against Than Ling Doh, Sheksung, as well as the United States."

The President paused a moment before continuing. "This is no war game. We have to win this one. May God give us victory."

The transmission ended.

**

The men near the Fail Safe panels in the Control Room and in the Missile Room saw the STANDBY light go off. Immediately, the ALERT sign replaced it. Those who saw it looked at one another and motioned for others to look. Throughout USSRN Seaview, no one spoke or moved. It was as if they had been ordered to rig for silent running.

**

Senior Corpsman Frank Lehrer removed his key from his right pocket and unlocked the door to the Medical Supply Room across from Sickbay. Picking up an empty tote pan, he pulled the list from his left breast pocket and scanned it. He selected the items on the list, then opened the Controlled Substances Cabinet and selected two bottles of mild tranquilizers. They were not on the list, but with the way things were and as edgy as everyone was getting, there would be a heavy demand for them at any moment. Then, he opened the Class II narcotics cabinet and took out several injectables.

He was securing the cabinets when the door to the room opened. In stepped John Warner, the Junior Corpsman. Here’s my chance I thought I wanted, Frank said to himself, as he looked his friend in the eyes.

"Hey, John. Thought you were still mopping the floor in Sickbay," he said with studied casualness.

"Nah. I finished about five minutes ago. It’s still drying." John’s eyes, a slightly darker taupe than his own, still met his as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. "I thought I might find you here," he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

"I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk, one on one," Frank told him, suddenly feeling awkward. If we don’t make it out, it won’t make a helluva lot of difference, but if we do, it could change things between us forever. Taking a deep breath, he inched closer to John. "We’ve been good friends for a long time."

John nodded. "Yeah, we have. We became real close, especially after Pheerse came aboard."

Doc and Frank used to spend much of their waking hours together, until the Pharmacist’s Mate joined the Seaview’s medical staff. At first, Doc had not wanted Pheerse and it was supposed to be a temporary assignment, anyway. When he had come aboard, Doc and Joseph R. Pheerse had almost immediately become inseparable.

Then, Frank and John had become much closer.

If it had not been for the lucrative pay and the fact that the Navy was a Lehrer family tradition, Frank would have taken a job as a paramedic in the local hospital. He had successfully challenged the National Registry exams, as well as the Senior Corpsman exams of the United States Navy. However, he had preferred that Charlene stay at home with their four children. Since the oldest two were in school, his wife decided to return to work part-time as a substitute teacher until a full-time slot became available at Santa Barbara Elementary School. He did not like the idea, but understood her need to get back into her chosen career. Sometimes, the separation became unbearable; the frustration level built up to the point where he thought he would die.

ohn’s wife, Anna, had a small novelty and health products shop in the local mall. She did well with it, but the Navy was also in his blood, particularly submarines. With his check from the Naval Reserve and his salary on Seaview, they could afford to live well and give their three children quite a few amenities. Still, being separated from Anna for weeks and months at a time was almost intolerable.

Being best friends probably had probably been a factor. One night, they were making a bunk in one of the guest cabins. Admiral Starke was being helicoptered out to Seaview for a top-priority meeting with Admiral Nelson. Frank had been suffering from a non-stop erection for the past few days.

In hurriedly moving around the small cabin, John’s hand had brushed against his groin. "Sorry," he had murmured. His face had become flushed. "You’ve got the same problem I do," he had laughed nervously.

They had stared into each other’s eyes for several moments. "I’ll take care of you if you’ll take care of me," Frank had said, trying to make a joke of the entire thing.

Instead of refusing, John had closed the distance between them and caressed his groin. Frank had reached out and gently rubbed John’s bulging crotch.

"I’ll be back. We need some lubricant," John had told him, then had left the cabin. In a few minutes, he had returned with a bottle of hand lotion.

They had unzipped each other’s clothes and taken hold of each other’s cocks in lotion-soaked hands. Soon, their mutual masturbation had ended in a mutual climax. There had been no kissing, or hugging. It had simply been a way to relieve the intolerable frustration.

Their friendship had deepened. Whenever the desire for release built up, they had turned to each other for relief. It had been strictly mutual masturbation-no blowjobs or anal sex, kissing, or other sexual gestures.

I wish we had explored each other more; maybe experimented some. "I wanted to tell you I wish we’d taken more time with each other. I-I’m not gay, or anything, and I know you’re not either. But I love you more than a brother and a super-close best friend," he told John. "I’m glad what happened between us happened."

John laughed, a sparkle replacing the troubled look in his eyes. "Same here, Frank. Same here. I wouldn’t have wanted any other man to touch me the way you have." They embraced, melting against each other in a way they never had before. Their lips met, softening as they opened to allow the other man’s tongue to enter.

The door opened. Frank and John sprang apart as Pheerse entered. "Sparks just announced there will be another broadcast by the President in a few minutes. This may be it," Pheerse told them.

**

Kowalski had been allowed to return to light duty, which meant half-shifts on sonar and returning to Sickbay for Doc to monitor him for any signs of relapse. The disease, Kowalski admitted, had taken a huge toll on his stamina. Will I ever be back to normal? he often wondered. However, it had a favorable consequence: He could be close to Pat.

It had taken some cajoling and good-natured threatening, but Kowalski and Pat were eating from their trays that Frank and John had brought them from the galley.

Kowalski quickly polished off his bacon and eggs and was about to eat his sausage links. However, he noticed that Pat dejectedly pushed his cereal around in the milk with his spoon.

"Come on, Pat, you’ve got to eat," Ski urged gently.

Finally, Pat took a few bites of his cereal and ate his piece of bacon. Then, he drank his juice.

After they handed their trays to Frank and John, who walked out of Sickbay toward the galley, an Oriental man of medium height and intense brown eyes stepped through, wearing an unfamiliar uniform. Kowalski felt Patterson grab his arm. "Th-That’s him! He-He’s one of them," Patterson whispered.

Looking at Patterson, Kowalski saw his face was drained of all color. Patterson’s hands clenched into fists. He leaned forward, shaking. Suddenly, Patterson sprang on the Oriental man. They struggled briefly before Patterson overpowered him, grabbing his head with one hand and flinging his other arm around his neck. In such a position, it would not take much to snap the man’s neck. "I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch! I’ll kill you!" he shouted, his face contorted in rage.

Pheerse grabbed the hand mike. "Captain Crane, report to Sickbay. Emergency!" He repeated the message once and replaced in its holder.

Doc rushed out of his office. Frank and John, who were making the bunks of the men who had been discharged, stopped what they were doing.

"Pat, take it easy," Doc said quietly. "You don’t want to hurt him."

Admiral Nelson rose from his bunk and got to his feet. "Easy, lad. Don’t do something you’ll be sorry for later."

"You don’t understand," Admiral Nelson said.

Pat’s grip tightened on Li Chu’s neck. "No, you don’t understand, but you almost found out the hard way. You don’t know what it’s like for someone to strip you and fuck you and tear you so bad you’re lying in your own blood. You don’t know what it’s like to be fucked in the mouth so hard and deep that it bruises your throat. You don’t know what it’s like to have someone squeeze your balls so hard you pass out. And that isn’t the half of it! Don’t tell me how I don’t understand!"

Frank and John inched toward Pat, but Ski stepped into their path, widening his stance. "Just stand back. He’s a hundred percent right. You weren’t there. You don’t know."

Doc moved close to Ski. "This is a major breakthrough for Patterson. This may very well make the difference in whether Pat really recovers or not."

Captain Crane rushed into Sickbay. "Patterson! Kowalski! Attenhut!" he barked.

Ski reluctantly snapped to, but Pat kept a tight hold of Li Chu.

"Patterson, I have information that will prevent World War Three. I will explain my part in what happened to you after all this is over. Please, Pat. There isn’t much time!" choked Li Chu.

Captain Crane drew himself to his full height. "Let him go, Pat. He and I will meet with you, just as he promised," he said, his voice quiet and unusually gentle, yet still firm.

Then, Pat began to cry. "And you guys don’t know what it’s like to be coerced into betraying the most important vow to the one you care about the most. You don’t know what it’s like to have control of your own body ebb away, and be manipulated and forced to feel things that you only wanted to feel for somebody you care deeply about. Things you don’t want to do with anybody else, especially with an enemy. And to top it all off, with your friends watching it! You don’t know what it is to be in so much pain it has soaked into every nerve ending that you have, but you still won’t betray anything to save yourself from the pain. You don’t know what it is to betray everything to save the same thing from happening to somebody you admire and respect and love only slightly less than God, and then have that person turn on you for it! You don’t know-anything!" Pat faltered, then collapsed onto the deck, gulping raggedly between the deep body-wracking sobs.

Kowalski knelt and wrapped his arms around Pat, pulling him close. He glared up at Lieutenant Li Chu. "I hope you’re real proud of yourself," he hissed through clenched teeth, tightening one arm around Patterson as he rubbed his back with the other hand. "And I want to hear that explanation, too. It had better be damn good!"

I don’t know all of what’s going on here, but I’ll find out. I’ll get you later, you bastard, Kowalski raged silently. He looked down as tears spilled down his own cheeks.

He turned his head so that his mouth was next to Pat’s ear. "I love you, buddy-mine. Always will," he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion.

Doc’s two corpsmen and Pheerse approached. Pheerse knelt beside him and reached out, but Kowalski pushed his hands back. Doc joined them, a hypodermic syringe ready.

Kowalski changed his position so that he was between Doc and Patterson. "Leave him alone," he growled. You guys just dope him up and put him to bed. He needs to get what happened out of his system. He needs to talk to someone that really wants to help."

Doc was not one to be deterred so easily. "Ski, I do want to help him," Doc stated gently but firmly. "I have a very mild sedative here. It will only calm him down; take the edge off his ragged feelings. He can still talk about it, but he’ll be calm and rational."

Frank leaned closer to Doc. "Sir, maybe you need to give Ski a shot, too," Kowalski heard the senior corpsman say.

Patterson was now shuddering so badly that it was almost as if he were having a seizure. He could barely breathe between sobs.

Something would have to be done. Kowalski moved to one side and nodded to Doc, who quickly gave Pat the shot.

"Pat," Doc said, "we’ll need to talk about what happened to you. It’s not going to be easy, but you can do it."

Gradually, Pat’s sobbing lessened. He laid his head on Ski’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

A few moments later, the medical team helped Pat to his bunk and covered him. Ski sat beside him.

Admiral Nelson joined Captain Crane and Lieutenant Li Chu. "Come on! We don’t have a moment to lose! Kowalski, you, too."

Doc stood in front of the Admiral, looking down at him from his full height. "Admiral, you and Kowalski aren’t going anywhere. You’re in no condition to--."

"And if I don’t leave, the world as we know it won’t be around much longer!" Admiral Nelson snapped, his azure blue eyes containing all the fury of a raging sea.

Then, the anger seemed to abate somewhat. "When we’re through, Captain Crane can bring us back here. Word of honor."

"How much time do we have?" asked Captain Crane.

"Not very damn long!" exclaimed Lieutenant Li Chu.

**

Mr. Morton scrutinized the readings from the instruments. The trim indicator showed the boat to be slightly bow-heavy. The last time they maneuvered the boat was far slower to respond than usual. Then the ballast vents had jammed; they could neither dive deeper nor surface. He snatched the hand mike from its bracket and keyed it. "Maneuvering, have you found the trouble yet?" he asked.

"All the internal structure is all right, sir," Chief Sharkey replied. "The trouble is outside, sir. Would you like me to send out a team of divers?"

Mr. Morton thought. With the quakes and maybe having to launch our missiles at any moment, or having to make a run for it at any second, it could be suicide for those divers. On the other hand, without full maneuverability, the boat is at risk.

"Yes. We’ve got to have full maneuverability. But ask for volunteers before you order anyone to go."

Chief Sharkey paused several moments before replying. Mr. Morton was well aware of the reason for the chief’s hesitation. "Yes, Mr. Morton."

Several moments later, Riley’s voice broke the almost-silence of the control room.

Mr. Morton turned in the direction of the sonar. The ominous blip glowed brightly. "I’m picking up a submarine off the port bow. Range: One-five-zero-zero yards!" All Navy submarines were deployed so that they would not encounter one another either going to and from their patrol areas or while actually patrolling their assigned sections of the oceans. When Seaview was on a mission, she was factored into the situation or the Navy notified the commander of the submarine whose "turf" she would be on. That way, Seaview would be doubly safe. Although she had a distinctive "ping", and many Navy sonar operators were familiar with what she sounded like, the possibility that someone would get trigger-happy was always present.

He pressed the Klaxon, sending the urgent AHOOOOGAH throughout the boat with his left hand and grabbed the mike with his right. "Battle Stations! Battle Stations!" he shouted. "Rig for red."

The lights immediately switched from the normal bright lighting to deep red. Only the eerie green glow from the sonar screen and some of the indicator lights provided the only contrast.

Then, he called Maneuvering. "Preston, are those divers outside yet?"

"They were just suiting up, sir," he replied.

"Have them stand by."

He called the Forward Torpedo Room. "Ready torpedoes and anti-torpedo missiles," he instructed.

"Sir, six torpedoes approaching from the port bow. Range: One-two-zero-zero yards and closing fast."

"Thirty degrees left rudder," Morton ordered. "Torpedo room, program anti-torpedo rockets. Fire our own torpedoes first, then our ATM’s five seconds later.

The helmsman echoed his order as he carried it out.

"ATR’s programmed and ready to fire on your order," responded Chief Sharkey.

"Fire!"

The torpedoes whished from their tubes. A high-pitched whine throughout the boat indicated that the ATR’s had left their launchers.

As the seconds crept by, Mr. Morton shivered as the air contacted the film of cold sweat that coated his entire body. He glanced at the hand that held the mike. Its palm contained glistening beads. His heart pounded; his chest hurt. Come on, boys! You’ve all got to score. These Typhoon Class boats carry heat-seeking torpedoes. You can’t dodge those bastards. If you can’t destroy them, you’d better be at peace with your Maker.

Suddenly, six horrific rumbles ran in quick succession through the entire submarine. She rocked violently, as if she had been slapped to and fro by a giant hand, causing the red lights to blink for a few moments. Charts, sheets of data, and cups of coffee fell to the deck. Men hung onto consoles or anything else for dear life. Several smaller explosions in rapid succession rocked them also.

"No bogeys on screen," said Riley.

The men cheered, hugging or playfully jostling the man next to him.

Thank God! Mr. Morton thought as he exhaled. Then, he realized he had been holding his breath. He picked up the mike. "Send out the divers to repair the rudder and planes," he ordered.

"Man, it’s on now," Riley said solemnly.

**

"Come on, Kowalski. We’ll need you," Captain Crane said as he led the way to the Control Room, followed by the Admiral, Li Chu, and Kowalski.

Upon arriving in the nearly silent Control Room, the Captain strode to the door of the Radio Shack and opened it. "Sparks, can you reconfigure your radio and transmitter to communicate directly with a satellite?" he asked.

"No, sir," Sparks replied immediately. "My equipment only broadcasts on the low, medium, and high frequency bands. That’s in the thirty kilohertz to thirty-megahertz range. To broadcast to a satellite, you would need a dish, but also a unit that can broadcast from eleven to thirty Gigahertz."

Captain Crane nodded. "How big of a dish would you need?" he asked.

"A small one would do. About eighteen inches in diameter," Sparks said.

Captain Crane looked from Sparks to Li Chu. "Do you think you could transmit from here?" he asked.

"No," Li Chu said. "Broadcasting underwater is out of the question. Water is far denser than air. Would cause too much interference. We have to be on the surface."

Captain Crane left the Radio Shack and went back to the Control Room. Mr. Morton was at the plot table. Mr. O’Brien was standing shoulder to shoulder as they bent over the navigation charts.

"Mr. Morton, has Damage Control repaired the steering controls and ballast vents?" demanded Captain Crane.

"No, sir. Divers are still outside," replied Mr. Morton.

Admiral Nelson and Lieutenant Li Chu stood a few feet away in intense conversation, grim expressions on their faces.

Admiral Nelson strode to the plot table. "We’ve got less than two hours to set our equipment up and disarm the enemy missiles. We’ve lost valuable minutes in Sickbay, and setting up takes time."

Captain Crane grabbed the hand mike and keyed it to the frequency of the divers. "Captain to Damage Control. What is taking so long? We have to surface now!" Captain Crane yelled.

"Sir, the steering controls are all right, but the ballast control vents are still jammed tighter than Dick’s hatband. Then, we will still have to repair them when we unjam them. It could take at least another forty-five minutes," Chief Sharkey’s familiar voice informed him. If there’s a man aboard that knows how to get the job done, it’s Sharkey, he thought, relieved that the COB was supervising the repairs.

Admiral Nelson glanced briefly at Lieutenant Li Chu, who shook his head. Sir, with all due respect, there’s no way they can wait that long. They are cutting it too close as it is. Any delay at all and it will be too late," he said.

"We will take the FS-1 to Twon Gyek," stated Admiral Nelson. "We have to be set up as soon as the satellite comes in position in another thirty minutes." He turned to Mr. O’Brien, who was still standing beside Mr. Morton. "Prepare the Flying Sub for launch."

**

Admiral Nelson circled Twon Gyek, looking for the best place to land and set up their equipment. Much of the place where they had set up their encampment was covered with variegated green netting, laced with assorted vegetation. They had not been back.

Kowalski, Sparks, and Lieutenant Li Chu sat directly behind the pilots’ seats. So far, they had said almost nothing.

"Look. I’ll bet those Won Huang Phen forces took over our base after we left," Captain Crane growled from the co-pilot’s seat.

"Admiral, I’m for blasting them to smithereens," Kowalski snapped.

"No, we didn’t come here for aerial combat," stated Admiral Nelson. "The area has too much vegetation to set up the dish."

Microwave signals traveled in a line-of-sight path. The satellite would have to face north. Unless the satellite dish was mounted on a tall tower, trees and other thick foliage would block the signal. That had been the reason for constructing the transmitting tower when they had first set up the camp.

Captain Crane leaned forward in the co-pilot’s seat and pointed out the Herculite panel. "Look, Admiral. There’s a clear spot. It looks like it’s higher than the rest of the terrain."

"We’ll go with that site. It’s the best we’re going to be able to find here," Admiral Nelson said, pushing the controls forward. The little craft rapidly descended. After making one more pass over the selected landing area, he landed and killed the power.

He did not like the place at all. If enemy aircraft flew over the island, the bright yellow Flying Sub would stand out against the verdant green like bloodstains on light-colored clothing. With no armament on the ground except M-16’s and nine-millimeter pistols, they would be sitting ducks if they came under attack from the air.

"Sparks, get that radio and set it up," Admiral Nelson instructed as he opened the rear hatch. "That will be our lifeline to Seaview." He turned to the others. "We’ll get to work putting that satellite dish together and setting it up."

Suddenly, several planes roared over from an easterly direction, their collective sonic booms reverberating in the ground, the air; even the equipment they were trying to set up. Admiral Nelson flinched as the unwelcome noise assailed his senses. Turning, he saw Kowalski, Sparks, and Li Chu had flung themselves onto the ground.

Captain Crane, who was standing beside him with his fingers jammed into his ears, leaned closer. "Are they ours, or theirs?" he asked.

"I couldn’t tell," Admiral Nelson replied. He looked at the sky for a few more seconds. "Let’s get back to work."

As they were setting up the tripod stand for the satellite dish, the roaring whine of a plane from the west rapidly grew louder as it descended. Then, a small cylinder arched away from the plane’s underside. "Take cover!" Admiral Nelson yelled, pushing Captain Crane to the ground at almost the instant as the air-to-surface struck the ground about a hundred yards away, hurling a huge ball of dirt, debris, and fire skyward. The ground shuddered. A second later, something arched toward the plane that had fired on them. It exploded in mid-air.

Admiral Nelson got to his feet. We lucked out this time. Next time-.

**

Admiral Nelson and Kowalski held the small satellite dish in place as Lieutenant Li Chu screwed the bolts into place. Then, Kowalski plugged in the cable to the transmitting unit. When everything was ready, he plugged in the power pack.

Lieutenant Li Chu turned on the monitor and the terminal. So far, no other enemy forces had attacked them from the air or on the ground. "Normally, the Dahlshan satellite broadcasts between fourteen point five nine two and fourteen point seven two zero Gigahertz. However, its top frequency is fourteen point seven five five. I will use that frequency to be sure I capture the signal," he stated as he began typing on the computer keyboard.

Lieutenant Li Chu’s eyes were riveted on the monitor as he talked. Suddenly, he inserted a CD into the drive and hit ENTER. "I am loading the program we’ll need to access the Yo Shingh Empire’s satellite. Then, I will upload the program that we will need to do the same to the Zolkov satellite that belongs to the Slavic Democratic States," he explained as he continued to work

"But I’ve heard that satellite can use another frequency when it downlinks to certain installations," Kowalski said, his tone wary. "Wouldn’t you want to use that frequency?"

"No. That special frequency of twenty point five zero zero Gigahertz will only be used to launch the missiles. They only got their Ku-band frequency operational less than a month ago. This satellite receives uplinks on one band, but it downlinks on another."

Kowalski eyed Li Chu, his expression cold. His arms were folded over his middle. "Isn’t it possible that the Yo Shinghis could have changed their codes?" he asked. "Or were suspicious of you and saw that you got false data?"

Li Chu’s eyes, a shade darker than his own and rounded at the inner corners, met his steadfastly as he frowned. "You’d better pray to God they didn’t," he stated tersely.

**

It was time for the satellite to come into position. Still eyeing each other like two panthers, they moved the dish and secured it. The Dahl Shan satellite was in a low polar orbit that circled every 105 minutes. If they missed it this time, they would not have another chance in the two-hour time frame.

"I’m ready," Lieutenant Li Chu stated.

Admiral Nelson nodded. Kowalski turned on the equipment; Sparks quickly double-checked the settings.

Li Chu began typing. Suddenly, the ground shuddered and bucked. The tripod wobbled. Kowalski and Admiral Nelson staggered forward to grab the leg nearest them.

Captain Crane grabbed the other leg and held on.

"Hold on!" yelled Admiral Nelson. "If this dish gets damaged, we’ve all had it!"

**

Deep inside Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado, Brigadier General Albert Raines gazed around NORAD’s command center. The huge room was dark except for the multi-colored lights from various radio units, consoles that showed satellite photos of everything from brewing storms to the troop movements of other nations, the green of radar screens, and the electronic map of the world, which covered much of an entire wall. Various pinpoints indicating the positioning of satellites to other countries’ nuclear missiles flashed on it. Several banks of consoles formed a labyrinth in the large room.

Over the years he had been in command of NORAD’s Cheyenne Mountain facility, he had seen nothing like this. Yes, he had participated in many operational readiness exercises, but nothing could totally prepare him for this moment.

During peacetime, they had their work cut out for them. Everyone carried on his duties of tracking the various satellites in a calm, alert manner. When Space Shuttles were in flight, they played a large part in helping track its movements.

Although high jinks had no place in this facility, people occasionally spoke to one another, exchanging pleasantries. Now that the United States was on the verge of World War Three, no one spoke unless it was in line of duty.

"Sir, the Yo Shingh missile silos have opened their doors!" exclaimed a young man from the second bank of consoles.

That was Lieutenant Randall’s position. He’s mistaken! thought General Raines as he strode to the console where satellite pictures of the various missile silos and their locations were flashing in rapid succession on his monitor. "They’re not supposed to launch their missiles until nineteen hundred hours!" he exclaimed.

"They must have decided to get an early start, General," said Lieutenant Randall.

As General Raines stared at the satellite photographs, his disbelief quickly changed to absolute horror. His heart pounded; his chest ached. He took several deep breaths. Although the temperature was kept at a comfortable temperature, he felt sweat trickle down his back and make a damp, cool spot on his shirt. A burning cramp shot through his stomach. For a moment, he thought he would vomit. He bolted for his command station, his legs trembling slightly, and snatched the handset from its bracket. "Get me the President."

There was silence for what seemed ages. Then, the electronic twittering, spluttering, and excited men’s voices blended into an urgent cacophony. "This is President Carson," announced a familiar voice.

Quickly, General Raines briefed the Commander-In-Chief. "We have to fire our missiles now!" he shouted as white vapors began billowing from the Yo Shingh Empires missile silos.

"I’m receiving the same transmission," stated President Carson.

The Fail-Safe panel still displayed ALERT status. Why in God’s holy name has he not upgraded the Fail-Safe system to WAR? He should have already authorized us to fire our missiles! President Carson was no coward. He had received the Congressional Medal of Honor during his first tour of duty in ‘Nam back in 1971. He had been a twenty-three year old first lieutenant then. Twenty years later, he had retired as a bird colonel. In all the years General Raines had known him, Michael Carson had always taken a stand and stuck by it, no matter what.

Michael Carson had taken lives before. Was he having a severe attack of conscience about taking millions of lives at one time? He knew that this moment could come before he took his Oath of Office.

Is it that he is reluctant to go down in history as the man who started World War Three? No one in his right mind wants such an ignoble status, but refusing to take action will only damn our own nation to destruction. He doesn’t want that that any more than I do! What the hell is he waiting for?

"With all due respect, Mr. President, the sooner we launch our missiles, the better chances we’ll have of deterring a second strike," General Raines ventured. Even with the world on the brink of destruction, the protocol was as automatic as breathing.

"We will hold off firing our own nuclear missiles," said President Carson. "However, you may order your commanders to launch their antiballistic missiles if it becomes necessary."

If it becomes necessary!? General Raines could not believe what he was hearing. We have the means of defeating this threat, or at least make those Yo Shinghis know they were in a hell of a fight, and my hands are tied simply because one man will not activate our Fail-Safe!

Helpless rage washed over him. "Mr. President, I-," he began.

President Carson cut him off. "You have your orders, General," he stated firmly, and then broke the connection

**

President Michael Carson bit his lower lip as he considered the options. Although surrounded by the Joint Chiefs of Staff and other high-ranking military officials, he felt totally alone. Now, I know how Harry Truman felt when he was deciding whether or not to drop the atomic bombs on Japan, he thought.

Actually, Mr. Truman had a much lighter burden. First of all, only two cities were destroyed by those primitive atomic bombs. If I let these missiles fly before I give Operation Guardian every opportunity, much of Europe and Asia will be in ruins; we’ll take a hell of a blow, ourselves. Right now, our ground forces are taking heavy casualties. We might have a chance in a conventional war against the Slavic Democratic States, but the only way we stand a chance against Yo Shingh in the next thirty years is with nuclear weapons.

But is Admiral Nelson’s plan going to work? wondered President Carson. From what I know of it, it is far-reaching plan and is dependent on many factors to insure its success. For many years, he had followed the work and career of Admiral Harriman Nelson. Next to God, he was the only one that President Carson trusted implicitly. Still, things could go wrong that the Admiral would have no control over.

He pulled out the key from under his shirt and inserted it into the Fail-Safe unit. Only a turn of a key, like unlocking a door, President Carson thought. A door to hell on earth. A shiver ran through him.

But if there’s any way to avoid a whole-scale nuclear holocaust, I have to try to do so. Admiral Nelson’s plan will enable us to avoid it-if he is successful. On the other hand, if Admiral Nelson’s plan fails, the United States will be destroyed because I have hesitated to activate the Fail-Safe system. But how can I face my Maker when my failure to act causes my own people to be killed-people I have sworn to protect?

Resolutely, the President pulled the key out of its slot and slipped the chain back over his head. What good will it do to survive and not be able to live with myself for ordering the slaughter of millions of people when a minute or two more would have made the difference?

Admiral Nelson had always come through when it really counted. He’ll find a way to turn this around. He’s got to!

**

Lieutenant Li Chu glanced at Kowalski out of the corner of his eye. Judging by the look on his face and the tautness in his body, Kowalski wanted to tear into him. Granted, he was upset about what had happened to his friend, Patterson, but Li Chu had not ordered the assault.

Obviously, Kowalski and Patterson were extremely close. Judging from Kowalski’s attitude and demeanor, his anger seems to stem from jealousy as much as indignation.

Suddenly, it clicked. Yes, the Navy condemned such relationships, but that did not stop them from forming, especially among men who were denied access to women for months at a time. Of course! That would explain it. If that’s the case, I’d better watch my back. Kowalski looks like he could be worse than a dragon and a demon at the same time.

"Seaview to Seagull Two," came the voice of Mr. Morton over the low-frequency radio.

Lieutenant Li Chu saw Sparks pick up the mike and press the TALK button. "This is Seagull. Go ahead, Seaview. Over," Sparks said into the mike.

"We’ve received a top priority message from NORAD Headquarters, Cheyenne Mountain facility. The Yo Shingh Empire has opened their silo doors and are preparing to launch their missiles," Mr. Morton informed them.

My God! Lieutenant Li Chu’s heart thudded in his chest as a film of sweat stuck his clothes to his body. I might have known something like this would happen! It’s how those Yo Shinghis operate.

Captain Crane stepped forward and took the mike from Sparks. "Seaview, this is the Captain at Seagull Two. Plot us a course for Wake Island. When repairs are completed, get the hell out of there at flank speed," he ordered.

"Aye, aye, Captain," acknowledged Mr. Morton. "Sharkey and the divers are coming back in now."

Sparks acknowledged the transmission and signed off.

"If there is a quake like what you think there will be, does Seaview have a chance of surviving it?" asked Sparks.

"It’s according to the distance between the point of origin of the P Waves and the Seaview. P waves travel through water. Not only that, they break off pieces of rock and kick up other debris. If Seaview is in the vicinity of the quake’s origin, she might as well be a car caught in a tornado," Admiral Nelson told them.

**

Resolutely, Lieutenant Li Chu pushed the thoughts of Kowalski’s antagonism from his mind and placed the keyboard on top of a packing crate. He began typing in the access codes. For several moments, there was no response. I believe we captured the signal. The power output was high enough.

Suddenly, the message, INCORRECT ENTRY DATA-ACCESS DENIED flashed across the monitor screen. Yes, they had captured the signal. Now, he was faced with a situation that might not be resolvable. That was what the primary codes which were given in the captured documents. With pounding heart, he frantically typed in a second code. A moment later, INCORRECT ENTRY DATA-ACCESS DENIED appeared on the screen again.

They didn’t give me the wrong information! I actually saw them use these codes! Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, focusing his mind as he had been taught to do as part of the Shoalin Kung Fu training he had received as a boy.

He typed in the last code on the list. INCORRECT ENTRY DATA-ACCESS DENIED proclaimed his failure. What is wrong? They aren’t supposed to change them for another nine days. Then, the code will be-. Of course! Then, he typed in the first word of the first code and the last word of the last code.

ACCESS GRANTED flashed across the monitor screen. "Yes!" He typed another series of characters understood by the computer. The entire directory listings appeared. He selected the relevant one. When he was in, he studied the source code and thought for a moment. The program I compiled was based on my accessing the satellite’s computers before the missiles were launched. Now, this changes everything!

"Have the Yo Shinghis launched their first wave?" asked Admiral Nelson.

"Yes, Admiral," replied Lieutenant Li Chu.

"Damn!" exploded Admiral Nelson. He massaged his forehead with the thumb and fingers of his right hand. "This is the very thing that I was hoping to avoid!" Then, he drew himself to his full height.

"Wait! We just might be able to stop those missiles after all!" Admiral Nelson shouted. Turning to Lieutenant Li Chu, he studied the monitor. "Can you reprogram the missiles for their warheads to explode just after they clear the earth’s atmosphere, just before they arc and begin their reentry?"

"Yes, it’s possible, if I can complete the reprogramming before the missiles go on internal guidance," Li Chu told the Admiral as he typed the new information into the system.

Any people who were in the areas where the explosions occurred would be blinded if they looked up when the warheads exploded. There would be fallout, but only a fraction of what it would have been if the warheads exploded in the atmosphere. As soon as he was finished, he hit the ENTER key.

The screen suddenly came alive with a flurry or words and messages. "The system is taking it. It should work!" said Li Chu. Then, the screen came alive with the numbers and locations of various missiles, then the words, SWITCHING TO INTERNAL GUIDANCE NOW.

"Just in time," Lieutenant Li Chu told Admiral Nelson.

"Can you reprogram the missiles of the second strike to abort the launch?" asked Admiral Nelson.

Li Chu nodded as he continued to type. When they try to launch their missiles for the second strike in fifteen minutes, they’ll get a very rude surprise, he thought grimly. Instead of blasting from their silos, they’ll rise about six feet, then drop back down. He smiled as the scenario ran through his mind. Talk about being shaken up! Those silos will be reeling.

**

"General, the Yo Shingh Empire has launched its first wave!" announced Lieutenant Randall.

The rage he felt turned to absolute hopelessness. He grabbed the handset. "Get me the President," he said into the mouthpiece.

Soon, a familiar voice interjected a feeling of bitterness into his gloom. "This is President Carson."

"Sir, Yo Shinghi missiles are headed this way," he stated.

For a moment, the President was silent. "I know," he finally said, his tone heavy.

General Raines glanced toward the Fail-Safe. It was still on ALERT.

"General Raines," the President began, his voice trembling slightly. "Order your commanders to prepare the ABMs for firing immediately after the missiles reenter the earth’s atmosphere. We can repel the first strike."

"But we can’t do anything about the second strike," said General Raines. With the budget cuts by former administrations, as well as your own, we did not build a sufficient amount of antiballistic missiles, he added silently. "When they launch the second strike, we’ll be sitting ducks! And we haven’t even mentioned the missiles of the Slavic Democratic States. Mr. President-."

"I know, General," said the President, cutting him off. "I know." He paused.

"When they open the doors to send over the second strike, I’ll activate the Fail-Safe system. There’s no other choice now." His tone conveyed the approaching debacle far more eloquently than any of his most evocative speeches.

**

General Raines stood beside Lieutenant Randall, watching the satellite pictures of the missiles heading toward them. They had almost reached their halfway point. Across the country, the antiballistic missiles were poised, awaiting the exact time to fire.

For a long moment, the missiles paused, then arced. Suddenly, Lieutenant Randall’s monitor, and several more as well, turned brilliant white. The entire room brightened for several seconds.

"What the hell?" exclaimed General Raines and several other men almost as one voice.

Then, the screen was blank. There was no trace of the incoming missiles!

"Sir, they’re gone," announced Lieutenant Randall in disbelief.

"I’ve lost all contact with the bogeys," said Captain Stinson from the radar monitors in the third bank of consoles.

"So have I," informed another radar operator.

"Do a systems check," General Raines ordered. His men hurriedly performed checks on their equipment.

"There’s no equipment malfunction," each man told him.

"We’ve got to locate them! We have to fire our ABMs now!" General Raines shouted as he fought down a wave of panic.

**

As President Carson watched the small blips bringing their cargoes of destruction and massive radiation toward the country he had sworn to protect, his hands tightened on the console so hard they began to cramp.

The Admiral has rarely let me down. The times he did, there was a very compelling reason. President Carson heaved a sigh. But whatever the reason, the end result is going to be the same.

Why didn’t I open the Fail-Safe? We would have stood a chance if we had fired first!

Is it my fault for not activating the Fail-safe? The Yo Shingh Empire for firing the missiles? Mine for taking a stand against the invasion of Than Ling Doh by Won Huang Phen? Mine for believing in Admiral Nelson’s program, Operation Guardian?

What difference does it make now? The end result will be the same.

**

General Raines continued to check the monitoring stations. He could not believe what had just happened. The line from Lewis Carroll’s story, Alice In Wonderland, came to mind. Curiouser and curiouser, he thought. "And curiouser."

"What, sir?" asked Lieutenant Randall.

"Nothing, Lieutenant," he said, feeling his face grow warm. He’ll probably think I’m losing my mind.

The greatly magnified picture from the satellite, which was monitoring the missile silos of the Yo Shingh Empire, showed the second silo doors open. Vapors began billowing from them almost immediately. Then, they began to emerge!

They were launching their second strike.

Suddenly, many of the missiles fell over. Huge red and orange blossoms spread over the immediate area where each one fell. At other silos, the pictures seemed to do a slow rewind as the missiles sank backwards.

At Feng Jai and Thoh Ti, the missiles dropped back into their silos as if one were designed to mimic the movement of the other. Suddenly, two yellow-white blooms rose upwards, forming mushroom-shaped clouds.

"My God," murmured Lieutenant Randall.

General Raines looked around the complex. "Do you have any bogeys headed this way?" he asked his radar operators.

"No, sir," was the response.

**

At the Seismological Department of the University of Sheksung at Kapon, Vaq Qai felt his knees get weak. Sinking onto the stool in front of the instrument panel, he suddenly felt light-headed. We’ve known it was coming. We just thought we would have at least two more years until the plate became stressed enough to trigger such a quake.

"What’s wrong, Professor?" asked Choh Wong, his senior graduate student.

"These readings are the worst I’ve ever seen. We’re going to have a massive earthquake within five hours-tsunamis a well. If the western coastal areas are not evacuated, the inhabitants will be killed," he said.

"Where is the epicenter?" asked Choh Wong.

"The Zhai Dak fault line," he replied.

**

Admiral Nelson studied the monitor screen, a smile of satisfaction parting his lips. Then, a harrowing thought came to him. They would soon have to change signals and programs to abort the launch of the missiles of the Slavic Democratic States. What would happen then? Will the Yo Shinghi command center simply reinstall the original programming and resume launching their missiles? Not if I can help it!

"We’re going to have to capture the signal of the Zolkov satellite in a few minutes," Admiral Nelson said. "I want that entire satellite out of commission before we break the uplink signal."

"That’s what I’m here for, Admiral," said Lieutenant Li Chu, the corners of his small, slightly full mouth turning up in a smile.

"Cocky little bastard," mumbled Kowalski.

Admiral Nelson glared at Kowalski, who looked away, contrite. I can’t blame Kowalski for feeling like he does, but he doesn’t know all the facts. There’s no time for petty bickering amongst ourselves now. In the light of a nuclear holocaust, nearly everything else seemed trifling.

"I’m impregnating the satellite’s computer with a hybrid virus. It will destroy all programs contained within the system. I mean all of them, from the ones which provide weather reports to those which provide their armed forces with their Global Positioning Systems, as well as those which tell the rockets when to fire to maintain orbital path and velocity. This virus rapidly replicates itself so that all files and programs are corrupted and all vacant space on all drives in operation is filled to capacity. In test computers, the virus goes dormant if deleted. However, the virus reactivates itself if new information is programmed onto a hard drive containing the virus. There is no antivirus program that can handle it. Also, the virus immediately transmits itself to any computers that are linked to it at the time. The second part of the virus destroys the dynamic link files and Sector Zero. When the last part of the virus is transmitted, the computer freezes. When they attempt to reboot their systems, Sector Zero is destroyed, rendering the system totally useless. I realize there is an element of overkill here, but to put it mildly, that satellite is so much space junk. In a matter of weeks or days, it will reenter the earth’s atmosphere. Hopefully, it will burn up before it strikes the ground." Lieutenant Li Chu hit the ENTER key with a flourish, heaving a deep sigh. Then, he turned toward Admiral Nelson. "We will need to tilt the dish back another fifteen degrees," he said.

Admiral Nelson motioned for Kowalski and Sparks to help him.

Lieutenant Li Chi opened the CD tray and removed one, then placed another one in it and hit the ENTER button.

Admiral Nelson glanced at his watch. They only had three minutes until the SDS would fire their missiles. There was absolutely no margin for error. He prayed they could get set up in time.

**

Lieutenant Li Chu took a deep breath. Although he could speak and write Russian fluently, it was not a language he was comfortable with. I hope the information was worth the price we had to pay for it. He had heard a rumor that three agents had died getting the information into his hands.

"Increase the frequency to fifteen point two five zero," he ordered.

Sparks and Kowalski immediately adjusted the transmitter and the power pack.

When it was right, Li Chu began typing the access code. UNAUTHORIZED DATA-ACCESS DENIED flashed across the monitor screen.

Why can’t I get in? This is the correct data! I translated it myself! Then, he realized what he had done. In his haste, he had transposed the words as they would have been written in English.

He tried again. This time, the phrase ACCESS GRANTED, proclaimed his success.

Suddenly, the ground trembled. Trees and branches fell around them. One struck the dish. The computer screen went blank for a second, then came back to normal.

"Have I still got power?" he asked Kowalski.

"Yes," the seaman replied.

"The signal strength is down a little. I can't get it to come back to full output," Sparks informed him.

They were out of time.

"All I can do is go for it. It’s now or never," he said as he began typing as fast as he could while still translating his notes. These Slavic source codes are cumbersome, to say the least, Li Chu thought. "I’m programming the Slavic satellite to instruct the launch sequence to abort at T plus ten seconds.

When he was through, he hit the ENTER key. By his watch, it was nineteen oh one hours, one minute past the time limit.

Time seemed to creep by. Then, LAUNCH ABORTED flashed in Russian across the monitor screen.

The ground shook once more.

"Come on, we’ve got to get out of here!" yelled Admiral Nelson.

Lieutenant Li Chu began typing again. While I’m at it, I might as well finish what I started, he thought. Add another satellite to the growing list of space junk.

Kowalski and Sparks glared at him as the ground shook again.

Li Chu finished his alterations to the satellite’s program and hit the ENTER key.

He shut the monitor off, but not the unit. He wanted to give the data sufficient time to upload. A minute later, he switched it off. An instant later, Kowalski pulled the plug out of the power pack.

As he secured the equipment in FS-1, Sparks secured the rear hatch. Admiral Nelson and Captain Crane were revving up the engine. They took their seats. As Li Chu was strapping in, the little craft shook from side-to-side as well as up and down.

"We’re wobbling!" shouted Captain Crane. "If we tip over, we’ve had it."

As the ground continued to buck and shudder beneath them, Admiral Nelson rammed something forward; he and Captain Crane frantically threw switches. Suddenly, the Flying Sub lifted off, pressing him back into his seat.

**

Admiral Nelson coaxed every millirad he could out of the tiny reactor as the yellow manta-shaped craft climbed skyward. When she was airborne, he began a slow, steady ascent to ten thousand feet.

As he glanced out the Herculite panel in front of him, a chill coursed through him.

Twon Gyek was no longer visible. The colossal waves had swallowed it. On their two o’clock, Admiral Nelson saw the tidal waves as they battered major portions of Won Huang Phen and some of the extreme eastern portions of Than Ling Doh. To their left, he saw two tall buildings disintegrate as the extreme eastern Yo Shingh Empire felt Nature’s full fury.

His eyes met those of his Captain’s. Excess moisture made them unusually bright.

"I hope Seaview is okay," Crane said, his voice more hoarse than usual.

**

Aboard Seaview, the instruments planted on the seabed near Twon Gyek no longer gave accurate readings. They simply were not meant to read that high.

Mr. Morton looked at Mr. O’Brien. The engines were giving everything they had. As a precaution, they were spraying the propeller shafts to keep them from overheating. Even at Flank Speed, they had put sufficient distance between them and the quake zone.

Mr. Morton picked up the hand mike. "Brace for shockwave!" he announced throughout the boat. "I repeat, brace for shockwave!"

Suddenly, there was a mighty shove forward; then the boat sank as if dropped. Men, charts, and other things that were not securely held in place were sent crashing into equipment and each other. The knots indicator began racing madly. Seaview was moving half again as fast as her flank speed!

"Sir, this is the Engine Room. The current is pushing us along. It’s causing the propellers to spin too fast. The gears of the shafts will strip out if we don’t find a way to slow them down," said the Engine Room rating.

Mr. Morton picked up the mike. "This is the Exec. Reduce engine speed to Ahead one third," he ordered.

"Couldn’t we tack into the current, like when you have the wind against you?" asked Bobby O’Brien. "When we were caught in that underwater current caused by that seaquake last year, it worked great."

Mr. Morton shook his head. "No. This current is too strong. If we don’t keep going with it, it will flip us over like a leaf in a gale."

All of a sudden, Seaview rose and rocked from side to side as if slapped about by an unseen hand. Mr. O’Brien lost his balance and careened into him. Mr. Morton grabbed him just as Mr. O’Brien reached for him. For several moments, they held onto each other as the boat rocked to and fro.

Out of the corners, of their eyes, they glanced at each other. At such close proximity to his lover, the tension in his body lessened.

Mr. Morton waited until the boat regained some stability. Then, he reached for the mike and keyed it. "Seaview to FS-1. Come in, FS-1. Over," he called.

He released the button and waited anxiously for a reply. There was none.

**

Holding onto anything that was bolted down, he made his way to the tiny Radio Shack. Knocking, he did not wait for a reply before he pulled the door open and stuck his head in. "Has there been any word from FS-1?" he asked. The Radio Shack’s equipment was far more powerful than the radio in the Control Room.

"No, Chief." Leaning forward, Static pressed the TRANSMIT button. "Seaview to Flying Sub. Come in. Over."

Static paused and repeated his call. As Sharkey waited, his stomach twisted. A film of cold sweat formed on his skin.

There was no reply.

Sharkey’s heart pounded violently for several beats. Well, the shoe is on my foot this time. Now, I know how he feels when I’m on a dangerous mission and stand a good chance of not coming back. "Check your radio for a malfunction," he barked. "Something has to be wrong!"

"Chief, the equipment is working properly," Static assured him.

"Let us know if you hear anything," he said, closing the door as his eyes blurred with unshed tears. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself before rejoining Mr. Morton and Mr. O’Brien in the Control Room.

**

Riley wiped one sweating palm on his blue jumpsuit, then the other. He held tightly to the sonar console as shock waves continued to rock Seaview. As much as this boat gets tossed around, they need to put seat belts on our console chairs, he thought. The currents are settling down. It’s about time!

Mr. Morton’s voice broke into his thoughts. "Control Room to Engine Room."

"Engine room here, sir."

"We’re slowing down. Give us Flank Speed again."

"Flank speed, aye aye, sir," responded the Engine Room rating.

I’ve been on some hairy missions, but this one beats all the rest of them put together. Between the massive earthquakes and the tidal waves they caused and the nuclear arsenals of two large nations aimed at the United States, it had been a toss-up which one would take them out. Once again, Admiral Nelson and Captain Crane had saved the day for them.

But where was the FS-1? Riley stared at the screen in a vain attempt to will them to appear.

Malone, who sat beside him at the neighboring console, looked at him with wide, frightened brown eyes. Riley’s eyes met his. His expression relaxed considerably.

The console made a loud SLAM-CRACK noise. The screen went blank. "Shit!" Riley shouted as he frantically adjusted the dials that controlled the strength and length of the signal. "Sonar’s out," he announced to Mr. Morton. He opened a small door under the unit and was pulling a screwdriver out of a tool packet to look behind the panel when the screen blinked back on.

Then, the distinctive ping that he had wanted so much to hear and see appeared on the screen at the same time as the loudspeaker crackled. "FS-1 to Seaview," said the orotund voice that was like a beacon of light cutting through the thick darkness that existed at a thousand feet under the ocean. "We will join you in fifteen minutes."

Riley heard the men next to him breathe a sigh of relief, but none could be more earnest than his. Everyone ventured a smile.

"Looks like we might make it, after all," Malone whispered to him.

"Yeah," he said, looking at his partner. "Thanks to God-and them." He nodded toward the sonar screen for emphasis.

As Admiral Nelson, followed by Captain Crane, Lieutenant Li Chu, Sparks, and Kowalski entered the Control Room, all heads turned in their direction. The men glanced at one another, then at them once more. The Admiral smiled and picked up the hand mike. "This is Admiral Nelson. Operation Guardian is a success. We have stopped the armed the forces of the Yo Shingh Empire and the Slavic Democratic States in their tracks."

A tumultuous cheer erupted. The men hugged one another and gave each other high fives and high tens. They slapped and jostled one another playfully as they shouted for joy.

"I have a call for Seaview," came Static’s voice over the loudspeaker, barely audible above the jubilance. "It is from the President of the United States."

Sharkey, who stood with his arm around Sparks, stepped forward. "All right, you jaybirds. Pipe down! Pipe down!" he shouted.

At first, the men grabbed him and continued to cheer as they hugged him or slapped him on the back.

Sharkey widened his stance and placed his hands on his hips, bending forward slightly at the waist. "If you yahoos don’t zip your lips, I’ll put all of you on report!" he yelled, scowling. "President Carson has an announcement to make."

The men grew quiet.

"This is the President. Admiral Nelson, I wish to extend to you and the men of the Seaview my highest praises. Thanks to you and your crew, the world is once again a safer place to live in. Without you, much of our planet would be a nuclear wasteland right now. You and your crew will receive the greatest honors, which this nation can bestow upon its defenders. Once again, my heartfelt well-done."

**

Admiral Nelson put the newly-lit cigarette between his lips, inhaling deeply. This meeting would be unpleasant at best. Lieutenant Li Chu says there is information that I will find very interesting and enlightening. I cannot see why watching tapes of our men being tortured will change the outcome of anything. However, pleasant or not, whatever the outcome, the matter would have to be officially investigated, whether or not I prefer charges against Patterson.

Granted, Patterson shouldn’t have talked, but the Won Huang Phen army gained no useful information in the long run. And he did it in order to save me!

Admiral Nelson, Captain Crane, Mr. Morton, Chief Sharkey, and Lieutenant Michael Li Chu gathered in the Observation Nose. Admiral Nelson took his customary seat at his worktable. To his left sat Captain Crane. Mr. Morton and Chief Sharkey took seats directly facing the Admiral and the Captain.

Lieutenant Li Chu sat close to the television and VCR equipment.

Pressing a button, Admiral Nelson closed the doors, sealing them off from the rest of the submarine. Another closed the collision screen that covered the large Herculite panels. "Gentlemen, are you ready to begin?" asked the Admiral.

Each man nodded. Lieutenant Li Chu picked up the remote control and turned on the television and VCR units. "These are the tapes of the interrogations of the Seaview’s men," the Oriental man stated, inserting a tape into the VCR. He backed up the tape, then pressed a button. The film showed Patterson staked out. Captain Haitong began having his way with him; then the others. Finally, it showed in detail how Captain Haitong jammed the cattle prod up his rectum.

Admiral Nelson had to look away. Glancing at Captain Crane, he saw the Captain’s semi-closed dark eyes stood out against the sudden paleness of his skin.

Lieutenant Li Chu fast-forwarded the tape to show where they were preparing to strip Admiral Nelson. It showed Patterson speaking up and giving the enemy Captain the information he had been seeking.

I wish I could recommend Patterson for a medal. God knows, he deserves one, thought Admiral Nelson. The nature of this could be argued among Navy lawyers until for the rest of Eternity and the issue still would not be settled. Some would call him a traitor for revealing anything at all, while others would say he acted in order to save the life of his superior officer, whom he had every reason to think would not survive such extreme torture, and that he had done nothing wrong.

One thing is certain: That "shock to the soul", as Captain Haitong had called it, could very easily have caused me to have a massive heart attack. If I had had one while in enemy hands, I would not have been alive to take the action needed to turn the cataclysm around.

Lieutenant Li Chu backed up the tapes to show all the men being interrogated. As Admiral Nelson watched the tapes, it took all his self-control not to snatch the tape from the machine and smash it.

Then, Lieutenant Li Chu paused the tape. Malcolm’s frightened face almost filled the screen. "This is where it gets interesting. If you wish to label one of your own men a traitor, this man is it," he told them as the tape began playing once more.

"Admiral Nelson, Captain Haitong was planning on-um-sexually attacking you until Malcolm told him this," Li Chu stated.

As Admiral Nelson listened to Malcolm’s revelations to the enemy, his hands balled into fists. "Turn it off!" he finally shouted, shaking with rage. Lieutenant Li Chu complied immediately.

Admiral Nelson picked up the interphone and punched the number to the radio shack. "Sparks, get me Calvin Braithwaite, at National Security Agency Headquarters."

Several minutes later, Sparks’ voice broke into their discussion. "I have Mr. Braithwaite for you, sir."

Admiral Nelson spoke with Mr. Braithwaite for several minutes, detailing the situation. "I want to prefer charges against Alan Malcolm for collaborating with the enemy."

"Do you have hard evidence? In this case, the charges will be difficult to substantiate. The court will argue that he simply broke under interrogation by the enemy forces."

"Sir, we have the interrogation on tape. Also, one of our ONI operatives was present at the time and can testify."

"That will definitely help," stated Mr. Braithwaite. "Was he in the Navy at one time?"

"Yes. He’s still in the Naval Reserves."

"That will definitely be a plus for your side," said Mr. Braithwaite. "Notify me when you reach the United States. We will have our agents waiting on the dock to place him under arrest."

Admiral Nelson ended the call and turned to the others. "When we reach port, Malcolm will be bound over to the agents of the National Security Agency," he told them, feeling a feeble satisfaction that there might be some justice after all.

"I never would have thought Malcolm was such a pussy," Mr. Morton grated through clenched teeth, icy fury in his blue eyes.

Chief Sharkey’s eyebrows drew together over angry brown eyes. "Ever since

Malcolm got back, he’s said that Patterson asked for what happened to him; that if he hadn’t been so hard-nosed, the enemy unit wouldn’t have been so hard on him. Some of the guys were going to beat the shit out him. I had to step in or they would have," Chief Sharkey said.

Captain Crane’s lips compressed into a thin, grim line. "Doc checked Malcolm over and released him. He had not suffered from dehydration and deprivation of food like all the others had. Now, we know why," he murmured, his tone low and ominous.

"Judging by his evaluations, his performance was marginal," said Admiral

Nelson. "I was planning on terminating his employment after this mission and forwarding a letter to the Naval Reserve that his skills and psychological profile should be reassessed should they choose to keep him. However, due to the fact that we have just learned, I am going to contact the National Security Agency and bind him over to them on charges of collaborating with the enemy."

Captain Crane reached for the interphone, but did not pick it up. "With your permission, Admiral," he said. Their gaze met and held.

"Permission granted, Captain," he told his Captain.

Captain Crane picked up the handset and punched the number for the Brig area. "Master-At-Arms, report to the Observation Nose." Then, he punched the number of the Ballast Control Room and instructed Malcolm to report to him.

Several moments later, someone knocked on the crash doors. Admiral Nelson opened them slightly. In stepped the Master-At-Arms. He immediately snapped to attention and reported.

A moment later, Malcolm stepped through. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"

"I am placing you under arrest for collaborating with the enemy. When we reach port, you will be bound over to agents of the NSA," declared Captain Crane. "Master-At-Arms, take him to the brig."

The MA quickly cuffed Malcolm’s hands behind his back and led him away.

**

The green-gray curtains were drawn, isolating Pat’s bunk from the rest of Sickbay. Dr. Jamison sat beside Pat’s bunk on his rolling stool. Kowalski stood nearby, ready to lend his moral support if it was needed. It had been a grueling session for him, as well as Pat. Even Doc looked unusually grim. Several times, Kowalski had spoken up, clearing up several misconceptions Pat had developed.

Kowalski heard the door to Sickbay open. There were muffled noises on the other side of the curtain. He wished Doc had locked the door until the session was concluded. He thought he heard Admiral Nelson’s and Captain Crane’s voices for a moment, but the talking stopped.

"Ski, y-you mean you don’t hate me because of what happened, even with that lieutenant?" asked Patterson, his voice saturated with doubt.

"Of course not," he reassured Pat. "It wasn’t your fault."

Pat took a deep breath. "But if I had been stronger, I wouldn’t have had those feelings, especially not for an enemy." His voice quavered; tears welled up in his eyes. "You would have kept control of your body. The Admiral would certainly have. The Captain, Riley-."

Doc held up his hand for silence. "Hold it, Pat. Believe me, you’re being way too hard on yourself. In the first place, it’s a known fact that if someone tries, he or she can stimulate a person enough to make him or her climax. It doesn’t matter if the person doing the stimulating is male or female, or even the orientation of the person being stimulated. If the stimulation keeps up long enough, the person’s body will respond to it, whether the person wants to respond or not. Even violence can be strangely erotic. Some people get off on that," Doc informed him.

"But I don’t like pain. And I just don’t understand how someone can make you feel something you don’t want to feel," protested Patterson.

Doc smiled a trifle. "Human sexuality is very complicated, to say the least," he said. "You’re a healthy, sexually active male. Your body responded to the stimulus, as it was meant to. Call it primal instinct. Without it, the human race would have died out long ago. Add to that the fact you were given drugs that caused sexual arousal, you were going to respond, no matter how much you resisted the idea mentally and emotionally. Admiral Nelson, or Captain Crane, Kowalski, or anyone else would have done the same thing. That includes me, too." Doc paused. "Think about it this way. What if, before your watch, I gave you a shot of Demerol, then Captain Crane ordered you to function at top proficiency?"

"That would be crazy. Give me a shot of Demerol, and I wouldn’t know I was in the world for a while," Patterson said. "No amount of trying to fight it would make a difference."

Doc smiled. "My point exactly."

"But I should have stopped it!" Pat said mournfully.

"Judging by the looks of you, I thought you did resist," said Doc.

"I did!" exclaimed Pat. "But there were five of them. They were strong and highly trained in hand-to-hand combat."

"Pat, you were outnumbered. You resisted. They could have killed you," Doc reminded him. "You’re alive. That’s the important thing. Lots of times, you have to cooperate in order to survive such an attack. That does not mean that you consented or that you wanted it."

"I tried to fight, but they tied me down. I just feel wretched, like there’s something different about me-that I’m damaged. Like I’m less than a man. I mean, what would everyone say if they knew?"

"You’re still Steven Terrell Patterson. Nothing has changed about you. You’re still every bit the man you were before. And anyone who knows anything at all about rape will know you were the victim of violence; he or she would not think less of you. The feelings you have are all a normal reaction to being raped," Doc assured him.

"They are?" Pat questioned, his tone surprised.

"Yes, indeed," Doc assured him.

"But I-I betrayed my country and the Seaview and the Admiral. I haven’t heard about any charges being preferred against me yet, but you can bet there will be. The Admiral said so." Patterson wiped his eyes with his fingertips. "I’d talk to Admiral Nelson and beg his forgiveness, but he’d probably spit in my face. He’s never been mad at me like that, but he never had any reason to be. There’s no way I could face the Admiral after what I did. No way on earth!"

The curtain parted. Admiral Nelson stepped through.

Patterson’s eyes widened and filled with tears. He turned away, his face twisting with emotion.

Admiral Nelson looked down at Pat, his expression far more gentle than usual. "Patterson, there’s nothing to forgive," he stated, his voice soft and rich.

"But you know what I did, sir, and you said-."

Admiral Nelson shook his head. "Forget everything I said back there." He paused a moment. "You see, when the region looked as if it would break into war at any time, Captain Crane substituted the old blueprints and changed the drawings to render them useless, if not dangerous. I knew it would be disastrous if the information fell into the wrong hands. I also knew the reputation of Won Huang Phen’s forces for extreme brutality toward any prisoners, especially American military personnel and the forces of Than Ling Doh. I took precautions just in case the torture was too much. I had to pretend to be angry to make the enemy officers believe you were actually revealing secret information."

Pat’s head snapped around. "Y-You m-mean I didn’t betray us?" Pat stammered, his eyes wide. "You mean you won’t have charges preferred?"

Admiral Nelson smiled, shaking his head. "Not against you, lad. Another man, Alan Malcolm, made statements that I was protective of my men, and that the surest way to break me was to make me watch my men suffer. He also said that I worked very closely with you and he also stated that the best way to break you was to strip you naked in front of everybody. They were going to have a go at me until Malcolm told them that." The Admiral’s expression clouded; his eyes gleamed with excess moisture. "When that bastard shoved that cattle prod up your--." His voice trailed off. "I thought that had killed you."

Pat’s eyes brimmed again. "There’s one thing that hurt worse. When I thought I had betrayed us all," he declared, his voice shaking.

Admiral Nelson laid a hand on Pat’s shoulder. "Pat, it’s over. Just concentrate on getting well and getting back to work. We miss you and we need you," said the Admiral."Thank you, sir!" Pat said softly, his voice trembling.

Kowalski saw Admiral Nelson’s hand tighten slightly. Then, he shook Pat’s hand before he stepped through the curtain and left. Doc turned and followed him.

Kowalski’s throat constricted with emotion. "And I’ve needed and missed you, too," he murmured. He laid a hand on Pat’s shoulder.

This time, Pat reached out with a trembling hand and laid it on Ski’s arm as his lips parted in a smile.

**

Pat looked up into Ski’s dark brown eyes that always reminded him of deep, rich chocolate. I wish I hadn’t had those thoughts about what it would be like to be with somebody else. I really wouldn’t have done it with anyone else-not even him!

As Patterson searched into his deepest mind for answers, he knew why Admiral Nelson’s opinion had meant so much to him. In the past weeks, I’ve wondered what he would be like. Even if I wouldn’t have really done it, it did make for some pleasant speculation.

Pat had sometimes seen a brightness in Ski’s eyes when the Skipper was nearby. Sometimes, Ski’s eyes were riveted on him as he walked through the Control Room. Well, I don’t suppose I can blame Ski for thinking! Captain Crane certainly has a dashing persona-almost as great as that of Admiral Nelson. Now, Admiral Nelson is definitely a sight for sore eyes; his brilliant mind is second to none in the world.

Ski’s lips brushed his eyes, the tip of his nose, then his lips. "Pat, I’ll be glad when we get home. When we’re away from the boat, we’ll be able to get back to normal," Ski said softly, breaking into his thoughts.

At that, a terrible sadness washed over him, followed by dread. Will we? Pat wondered. That’s going to take a bigger miracle than stopping World War Three. His physical injuries still produced enough pain to preclude any interest in sex. However, Doc said they would heal in a few weeks.

Before what happened on Twon Gyek, the sight of Ski-even just hearing his voice -sent my hormones into a rage. I couldn’t wait for us to be alone. As soon as we were, our passion exploded, white-hot and unstoppable, like twin stars having intersecting solar flares. But when I even think of being stripped and naked with someone, even Ski, I break out into a cold sweat. My heart starts pounding so hard it hurts. I can’t take in enough air. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I feel every muscle in my lower body tighten up, especially my rectal sphincter muscles.

Ski and I promised to be faithful to each other and stay together. We swore it on the Bible. But is it right for me to expect him to stay with me when I can’t be a real life- mate for him? Even if I ever start feeling any desire again, I don’t know if I could stand the thought of anyone touching me, not even Ski.

**

Admiral Nelson was taking a sip of coffee when the interphone deedle-deedled. A call from the outside, thought Admiral Nelson. One short deedle would have meant a call from within the boat. Admiral Nelson picked up the handset. "This is Admiral Nelson."

"I have a call from the President for you, sir," said Sparks

"Put him through." He paused to give Sparks time to establish the connection. "Mr. President, this is Admiral Nelson."

They briefly exchanged pleasantries. Then, the President cleared his throat. "As you know, the-ugh-events of the last week and a half are very sensitive. In an attempt to prevent any undue alarm, I have ordered all data of your mission sealed, along with the military reports in the interest of National Security. Other firms and agencies with pertinent data on the recent events will be ordered to turn their data over to the National Security Agency, where it will be sealed, also," the President stated.

"Sir, there is a problem. I am preferring charges against one man for collaborating with the enemy. He is to be bound over to authorities. We will need some of the information of the days preceding the events for his trial."

"What is the specific charge?" asked the President.

"Collaborating with the enemy." Admiral Nelson gave the President an account of the events. "We have our ONI operative who can testify, as well as captured videotape footage."

"Hold it, Harry. I need to know some things. First, did the incident take place after I activated the Reserves and placed the Armed Forces on STANDBY?"

"No, sir. It was before," Admiral Nelson told him.

"Most of the members of your crew have been in the Navy. Many are still in the Naval Reserves. Was this Malcolm a member of the Reserves?"

"Yes. However, he was originally on the Seaview because he was employed by NIMR." Some Naval Reserve men chose to serve on Seaview. Due to the nature of Seaview’s missions, the crewmen who were in the Reserves were exempt from monthly meetings and the two weeks’ active duty.

"It sounds as if he was technically a civilian at the time the incident occurred. Therefore, he will not fall under the UCMJ. The NSA will investigate the matter thoroughly. The investigating agents will determine who has jurisdiction."

"All I know is that he gave out information that helped the enemy form a plan against us and our mission. One man has serious physical and emotional traumas to overcome because of that man’s betrayal. If it had been successful, we probably would not be discussing it right now." Admiral Nelson took another sip of coffee. "I hope he is brought to justice. "It will be an example to others not to sell out their fellow countrymen."

"I see your point, but he did not divulge actual classified material. If he had, he could easily be charged with collaboration or even espionage. As it is, I don’t know if the charges will hold up in court."

When their conversation ended, Admiral Nelson broke the connection. Damn! The world hasn’t changed a bit. Makes me wonder why I fight so hard to make it a better place. Sometimes, it makes me feel as if I’m shoveling shit against the tide.

**

As Ski thought about Admiral Nelson’s revelation concerning Malcolm, the rage burned through him like El Dorado stripper did to a thin coat of paint. It was not the first time he wanted to kill somebody, but had to refrain from doing so and let the System handle things.

But how can I stand fast when everything that means the most to me is damaged, maybe beyond all repair? The look in Pat’s eyes when I tried to caress him? God, he looked terrified! And I’ve never once abused him. That’s how deep his torment goes!

Damn the System! It’s fucked up, big-time. Most of the time, a sharp lawyer will get the charges reduced. Then, if someone is convicted, they do well to serve half of their sentence. Kowalski lightly nibbled the inside of his jaw as he continued to think. If the System doesn’t make Malcolm pay for what he caused to happen to Pat, I will. I’ll make him pay if it’s the last thing I do!

Looking at his watch, Kowalski saw that he had more time before his watch than he thought, a good twenty minutes. Captain Crane would be pissed off if he ever found out, but he has so much to do that he hasn’t been walking around the boat as much as usual. I’ll take the chance!

He needed to talk to Ryan McKendrick. He and Patterson were the most knowledgeable computer technicians aboard. The MA had asked him what the best computer system was and to have it custom configured for his own use. With all the recent upset, Kowalski had not had time to get back with him. Now, he would make the time.

**

Ryan McKendrick shifted in his chair in his tiny cubicle. When Kendall got back, he would have to go to the head. He could not wait much longer.

He looked up as footsteps approached. Sighing with relief, he stood. Ugh oh! He thought as Kowalski strode into view. Here comes trouble! Captain Crane warned me that he might try something.

"Good morning," Kowalski said. "I thought I’d come down here and let you know that I’ll help you with your computer system."

"Thanks, Kowalski. I appreciate it," McKendrick said, still wary. He looked down the passageway. I hope Kendall gets back soon!

Kowalski smiled a trifle. "Have you had any trouble with your star boarder?" he asked, pointed toward the cell area.

"He’s sulled up, but so far, he hasn’t tried anything rash. Have you seen Kendall?"

"Yes, he was in the galley."

"That’s just great," murmured McKendrick.

"What’s the matter?"

"I’m about to die to take a piss, and I’m waiting for him to get back so I can leave."

"I’ll take over for a few minutes," volunteered Kowalski.

And if I do that, we could both be behind that cell door. But he was fast reaching his limit. He had to relieve himself. "I’ll have to pat you down."

"Okay." Kowalski placed his hands on the bulkhead and stepped back. McKendrick patted him down carefully. Hmm. No weapons! That’s surprising. Maybe the Captain was overreacting when he told me to watch for Kowalski to try something.

Kowalski stood up after McKendrick had finished.

If he can’t get to him, he can’t do anything. Not here, anyway.

"I’m keeping these with me." McKendrick picked up the keys and walked quickly toward the head.

**

Kowalski stared at Malcolm, feeling his lips curling back from his teeth in disgust.

"Everybody knows now that you were the one who sold out, not Pat. That’s why you made such a big deal out of Pat’s talking to those enemy soldiers. You were hoping to turn everyone against Pat so they wouldn’t suspect what you did. Pat never did anything to you."

Malcolm seemed to shrink toward the far wall slightly. He would not meet Kowalski’s gaze.

Kowalski’s hands doubled into fists; he widened his stance. "You look at me when I’m talking to you, you yellow shit bag!" he hissed through clenched teeth, and then resumed speaking slowly and deliberately. "Whatever your reasons, you made a veeeerrry bad mistake. A bad mistake. If you were glad about what those goons did to Pat, you’ll be in seventh heaven at what happens to a young man in a Federal prison. And you will be the guest of honor."

Malcolm flinched. He looked at Kowalski briefly, his eyes widening.I’ve got his attention for sure now, thought Kowalski. "Have you ever heard of the term, ‘bull queer’? Well there are gangs of them in prisons. They take a young man by brute force. The more he fights and the more pain they cause him, the better they like it. Oh, you might be able to avoid it by becoming a strong con’s ‘woman’. Notice I said might. You see, if your "man" wants to share you with somebody, or he wants you to do something and you don’t want to do it, that’s just tough shit. You got no say at all about it."

"You sick faggot!" Malcolm spat in his direction, his eyes wide.

Kowalski bristled, but ignored the insult. Taking a deep breath, he unzipped the left upper pocket of his jumpsuit and removed a four-inch pocketknife. "When we make port, you’re supposed to be bound over to the NSA. Admiral Nelson is going to do everything he can to see that you’re charged with collaborating with the enemy," he continued in a low, menacing voice.

With his thumbnail, he opened the blade and pushed up his left sleeve a few inches. "I know you can hire a hot-shot lawyer to get you off if the case comes to trial. I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’d plead guilty and ask for the maximum sentence."

Malcolm’s eyes widened; his lower lip began to tremble. "You’ve got to be kidding," he snorted in a feeble act of defiance.

"I’m as serious as death. You see, if the authorities don’t get you, I will." He slipped the ball of his thumb along the blade’s edge, feeling a sting as the blade cut through the skin. He held it up toward Malcolm as several drops oozed from the small cut. "It might be next week, or seven months from now, or five years from now. No matter where you go, I’ll find you. And you won’t know just when I decide to come for you until I step out from the darkness or the shadows. And that’s not a threat. It’s a promise.

"Then, I’ll take you way into the woods up in the mountains. You can scream all you want, and nobody will hear you. I’ll strip you naked and tie you up for about two days. I’ll have a long electric rod, like they use for cattle. First, I’ll put it on your nuts. I’ll revive you each time you pass out. But that’s just for sport. When I get tired of doing that, I’ll jam it up your ass and have even more fun."

Kowalski grinned. "After you’ve gone so long without eating, you should be hungry. Very hungry. I’ll take my knife--." He let his voice trail off as he held up the knife and his cut thumb for emphasis. "Then, I’ll castrate you." Kowalski paused a couple of moments. "Of course, I’ll spray the area with Blood Stop so you won’t bleed to death."

Malcolm cowered against the far wall, his eyes widening even more. He suddenly became ghastly pale.

"This knife is sharp." He scraped away a two-inch patch of hair on his left arm. "It will do the job quite well."

"While I’m harvesting your dinner, I’ll have a pan of grease heating over a camp- fire." Kowalski cocked his head to one side. "I’ll cleave them in two, just like a hog farmer’s wife does when she prepares mountain oysters. Then, dip them in seasoned flour and I’ll fry them until they are nicely done. Not raw; not overcooked. Then, I’ll cut them up in small pieces and feed them to you."

Malcolm bent double as he rushed to the head facility located on the far bulkhead. He vomited for several moments, then lay on his bunk, quivering violently as he sniveled and moaned.

Kowalski paused for a moment. "After you have eaten, I’ll take you back fairly close to civilization and dump you out. And if you think I won’t get away with it, I’ll have plenty of friends who will swear I was with them all that time. Of course, I’ll wear a protective coverall and latex gloves, so that there will be no trace of DNA to lead them back to me. I’ll burn it all, of course."

Kowalski folded the pocketknife and dropped it back into his pocket. For good measure, he licked the blood from the cut on his left thumb, grinning so broadly for a moment that the muscles of his jaws almost cramped.

**

The Master-At-Arms returned to the brig. He heard whimpering and sobbing. Kowalski’s wicked, snickering laugh could have chilled the heart of Satan or a psychopathic killer. "So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll go to jail where it’s safe," Kowalski was saying to Malcolm.

Kowalski turned as the Master-At-Arms walked in.

Ryan McKendrick started to ask Kowalski what had transpired in his absence, but thought better of it. There are some things I really don’t want to know, McKendrick decided.

**

Captain Crane entered the detention area. Ski was standing in front of the cell talking to the Master-At-Arms. Anger boiled within him. If one of Seaview’s personnel hurt Malcolm, then NIMR and the Admiral might be looking at a mega-bucks lawsuit if the charges of collaborating with the enemy were not upheld. Ski was high-strung in the first place, but under these particular circumstances, he might act and not think of the possible consequences. "Ski, what are you doing here?" he demanded.

In the cell, Malcolm was curled into a fetal position, crying and whimpering incoherently.

Captain Crane scrutinized him through the bars. "What happened to this prisoner?" he snapped. "Ski, what did you do to his man?"

Ski shrugged noncommittally, sucking a moment at his left thumb. "I just let him know he made a bad mistake when he sold out his fellow crewmembers, that’s all," Ski told Captain Crane. "But I never touched him. Scout’s honor," he said, giving the Boy Scout salute.

"That’s right, Captain. Ski never laid a hand on Malcolm. He didn’t even go inside his cell," the Master-At-Arms stated. "I had to make a quick run to the head, but I kept the keys with me."

Crane studied Malcolm. He wasn’t bleeding or bruised. Still, Ski could look very mean and intimidating when he wanted to. If Malcolm had put Ski through all that, Ski would probably beat the living hell out of him-beat him within an inch of his life-and that would be the end of it. But Malcolm caused it to happen to Patterson. There’s no telling what Ski will do if he gets half a chance.

"Get to the control room," Captain Crane ordered. "It’ll be time for you to go on watch when you get there. And I don’t want you to come in this area again."

"Yes, Captain," Kowalski said, his tone affable.

Captain Crane saw Kowalski’s gaze briefly meet that of the Master-At-Arms. The Master-At-Arms winked furtively at Kowalski, a trace of a smile on his face. Ski winked back, the corners of his lips turning up in a smile.

There’s more to this than meets the eye, Crane realized, but decided not to push it.

**

Admiral Nelson lay in his bunk, unable to sleep. The events of the past few days formed a dizzying maelstrom in his consciousness. In a private message, the President had stated that he and the Seaview’s crew would receive a ticker-tape parade and special medals that would be minted to commemorate their "heroic deeds". An ostentatious ceremony was waiting for "the men who saved the world" after a ten-day liberty in Santa Barbara to visit with their families.

At the ceremony, I’ll also receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom-for the fourth time. Too bad they don’t do like the Armed Forces and add a cluster to the medal if you receive it again. And it will make the third Nobel Peace Prize I’ve received. Once again, the cluster concept would be practical here.

Admiral Nelson’s thoughts returned to a few hours earlier, when he and Captain Crane were composing letters to the families of the dead men. I’d trade all the medals and banquets and adulation we’re going to receive if the men we lost could be returned, alive and unharmed, to their families.

I suppose I’m strange. Most men would give their lives to have half the honors I’ve received bestowed on them. Yes, the first time or two, it’s flattering and exciting, but it gets to be a lot of unwanted pressure when you’re in the spotlight all the time. And for what? Just doing what has to be done!

There was a soft knock on the door. Admiral Nelson sat up. "Who is it?" he asked.

"It’s Lee."

Admiral Nelson’s heart beat faster in anticipation. "Come in."

Lee stepped in quickly, then shut and locked the door.

"Harry! Oh, Harry!" breathed Lee, embracing him tightly just before their parted lips melted against each other’s. Frantically, Lee ran his hands over Harry’s back, caressing him as he backed him against his bunk.

When Lee finally broke the kiss, he unbuttoned Harry’s shirt and slipped it off, depositing it on the deck, then quickly peeled off his tee shirt. As Lee unfastened Harry’s belt, he kissed his throat and down to his right nipple. Lee sucked it ravenously, then nipped it before moving to the left one and slipping his pants and briefs down. Desire swelled within him as Lee fed on his nipples and took his penis in his hand.

"Slow down, Lee. Relax."

Instead, Lee knelt and took his penis into his mouth, moaning around it, sending small runnels of ecstasy through him. Harry sank onto his bunk, no longer able to stand. He lay back, the sensations holding him captive. Lee released his penis and licked his balls, then nibbled the root of his penis, bringing Harry right to the edge. "Harry!" Lee murmured over and over as he spread his legs wider and knelt between them.

"Stop, Lee!" He grabbed Lee’s black hair in an effort to hold him still, but Lee would not be denied. Harry knew that only consummation of their union would quell the fervor.

"I’ll need lubricant. Don’t want to hurt you," Lee murmured. "Need you! Need to taste your come! Need to come inside you!"

Harry stretched and opened the top drawer to the tiny stand beside his bunk. Reaching in, he withdrew the tube and popped up the snap-lid. Taking it, Lee squirted some of the clear liquid on the tips of his fingers and closed it.

Lee trailed his lips and tongue over Harry’s inner thighs as he brushed the outside of his rectum with one of his large, long fingers for several moments. Then, he slowly inserted one finger, twisting and wiggling it very slightly. After several moments of sliding gently in and out, Lee inserted another as his mouth claimed Harry’s penis and held it for a moment. Then, Lee’s fingers found his prostate as his mouth began to move up and down his penis, stopping long enough to lave his glans, then resumed his expert ministrations.

Suddenly, an intense tingling fire shot through Harry’s loins, threatening to send his soul into Lee’s mouth along with his semen. Lee continued to stimulate his prostate as he sucked him, moaning around his shooting hardness. Gasping, Harry vainly tried to stifle a groan as his body quivered in response.

Lee continued to hold Harry’s penis in his mouth as he rose to his knees. After another moment, Lee released his penis and positioned his erection against Harry’s opening. Harry pushed forward as Lee began easing into him, gasping as Lee’s hardness filled him.

As Lee thrust into him, his mouth claimed Harry’s. He tasted his own semen on Lee’s lips and frenziedly darting tongue, but he would have preferred Lee’s taste of saltiness, sweetness, and male musk.

Lee thrust deeply several more times, then gasped and shuddered violently, as he shot his load into Harry’s body. His arms encircled Lee, pulling him down. Lee sank onto him, laying his head on his shoulder.

For several minutes, both of them lay together, too overwhelmed to move. Then, Lee rose on his elbows, framing his face with his hands. As Lee stared into his eyes, Harry noticed that Lee’s eyes were brimming with excess moisture.

"Lee, what is it?" asked Harry, suddenly alarmed.

"I was thinking of what happened back there on the island. What happened to Patterson might have happened to you instead," Lee replied, his voice trembling with emotion. "If it had, you might have-might have-." Lee pressed his forehead against Harry’s chest. Harry felt a warm droplet fall on his skin.

"Lee, everything is all right now. It didn’t happen. Your rescue was successful. So was our mission. We have so much to be thankful for."Lee looked up, smiling gloriously through his tears. "I know, but when I think of something like that happening to you, I-." Lee’s voice faltered again.

"And you heard what Doc said after he had run more tests. The irregular heartbeats were due to stress. That’s all. A little R & R, and I’ll be just fine," Harry told them. "Now, don’t you worry about me anymore. That’s an order," he said, trying to assume his most stern expression.

Lee smiled as he curled up beside him, laying his leg over both of Harry’s. Lee lovingly gazed into his eyes. "That’s one order I won’t be able to carry out, Admiral. You know I’m going to worry about you."

Harry could not help smiling back. "No more worrying about me-for the rest of the night," he amended.

Lee nodded, kissing his lips lightly. "I’ll do my best."

Harry’s thoughts drifted back to Patterson and the ordeal he had undergone. "I was just thinking about what Patterson said about me. About how I was someone he loved and admired and respected only slightly less than God." Harry shook his head in amazement.

"Yeah, that just about sums it up. I thought the world of you when I first met you aboard the Nautilus. By the time I had served with you six months, I worshipped the deck you walked on."

"I never knew Pat’s feeling for me went that deep."

Lee pursed his lips for a moment. "Hmmm! Do I need to have a long, stern talk with a certain medium brown-haired, blue-eyed seaman?" he asked, the light tone in his voice and the warm, mischievous expression contradicting the seriousness of his words.

"Lee, you know me better than that." Admiral Nelson grinned, giggling. "And while we’re on that subject, maybe I’d better have a few choice words with a certain dark-haired, dark brown eyed man of Slavic descent."

Lee shook his head. "None of that is necessary." Lee grinned. "Let’s hope Pat or Ski doesn’t want to have a stern talk with either one of us."

Harry giggled. "They would definitely be wasting their breaths." Neither he nor the Captain would ever touch a member of the crew. Having sex with one of our crewmen would be like a father having sex with his own children. No man with a shred of self-respect or decency would do it. And we haven’t talked about breaking our commitment to each other.

The fact that Lee was his immediate subordinate had created quite a dilemma for him. For years, he had wrestled with his conscience. Was it right for him to broach the subject of a physical relationship? After all, he was Lee’s immediate superior and employer. But aside from that, Lee was also his most valued and trusted friend. Just thinking about Lee started a fire in his loins that burned through his heart, and into the center of his soul. No other person had ever aroused such overpowering feelings within him.

Finally, their intense love had won out, and had every time since.

**

In the Observation Nose, Kowalski and Patterson reported to Admiral Nelson and Captain Crane, as ordered.

Admiral Nelson sat behind his worktable, a pile of reports in front of him. Beside him, at his left, sat Captain Crane.

"At ease," Admiral Nelson told the two men. "Would you men like some coffee?"

After each man poured himself a cup, he took a seat in front of Admiral Nelson’s long worktable. "Patterson, Captain Crane promised you an explanation for the appearance of one of the Divine Dragon Corps members here on Seaview. Kowalski, you said you wanted to hear it, too. You and Patterson have been best buddies for years. I know you were outraged after what happened to him. We are here to keep that promise."

As if on cue, Li Chu descended the spiral stairway, wearing the immaculate uniform of a United States Navy officer. On his collar was the insignia of a lieutenant!

Kowalski and Patterson looked at each other, then at Captain Crane and Admiral Nelson.

"Ski, Pat, Lieutenant Michael Li Chu is an ONI agent. He was working as an operative when he was with the Dragon Force of the Won Huang Phen Army," Admiral Nelson explained.

Lieutenant Li Chu’s almond-shaped brown eyes turned unwaveringly in Patterson’s direction. "Seaman Patterson, I’m very sorry for the part I played in what happened to you. I know it was probably the worst moment of your life. However, if I had not stepped in, you would probably be dead."

"How could what you did help me or preserve my life?" demanded Patterson, an uncharacteristic edge to his voice.

Kowalski leaned forward, staring at the Oriental. "I’d like to know the answer to that one, myself."

Lieutenant Li Chu’s gaze turned from Patterson to Kowalski. "Usually, Captain Haitong or his second-in-command gave the injection and drops. The drugs are used to sexually stimulate oxen and yak and make them breed. They usually gave the dosage that they would have given a full-grown animal. The man would be insanely aroused and be ready to do anything or have anything done to him. However, those men are dead. Massive heart attacks and strokes. Two survived, but are vegetables due to strokes.

"I-I couldn’t let it happen to you, Seaman Patterson. I had to do something, but I had to be careful so that I wouldn’t blow my cover. I gave you water. Everyone was dehydrating, but when they made you swallow all that semen, it was going to be worse for you. I had to get some water into you. I put the drops in the water. Also, I gave you only three drops and a much lesser dosage of that injectable than the other prisoners had been given. The drugs given to arouse sexual desire also significantly raise heart rate and blood pressure. They can cause cardiac arrest, massive heart attack, and massive stroke." Lieutenant Li Chu folded his hands on the table in front of him and studied them. Redness crept into his face as he looked at Patterson.

"When I-um-manipulated you, I made it look as if I were hurting you. That’s why I told you to cry out so I wouldn’t have to really hurt you! I wanted to give you a respite from the torture and pain. If I didn’t, you were going to go into shock. The drugs, since they were administered in moderation, provided enough stimulation and helped to prevent you from going into shock."

Lieutenant Li Chu looked at the Admiral, Captain Crane, Patterson, and Kowalski, in turn. "God knows, those other men were really hurting him. If he had not given them that information, they would have kept at it til he was dead. They would have killed everyone from Seaview. Believe me, if there are demons walking the earth in human form, the men of that unit were definitely some of them." Michael Li Chu assured them.

For several moments, Ski said nothing. It isn’t every day that someone you think is your enemy turns out to really be helping you, thought Ski.

Then, a bolt of jealousy shot through Ski. Could that ONI officer have done it another way? He made my lover, my buddy shoot all over his hand. Will Pat eventually put the nightmare behind him and turn to that--officer? Pat has had plenty of women, but I’m the only man he’s ever had. Will he want to see what it’s like with somebody else, at least for a while? He looked away as unshed tears blurred his vision. He wiped his eyes with his thumb and the fingers of his right hand, as if he would if he were simply tired.

Part of Ski wanted to grab Michael Li Chu and smash his fists into him until he was a limp, broken red spot on the deck, then ask Pat what his intentions were concerning their relationship.

Ski took a deep breath. Wait. Pat was raped. Besides, he was drugged up, he reminded himself. And we’ve had a very deep caring and love for each other for a long time. It grew and grew until physical joining of our bodies was the only way we could express it. Pat’s not likely to throw that away for anyone, any more than I would. He suddenly felt guilty. Sometimes, I fantasize about the Skipper, but I don’t think I’d do anything about it even if I had the chance. Well, I hope I’d be strong enough not to, anyway.

"Ski? Ski?" called Captain Crane, a concerned look on his face. "Are you all right?"

Lieutenant Li Chu eyed him cautiously. "Again, I’m sorry about what happened to your friend, and my role in it," he stated.

Kowalski nodded. "I appreciate your doing what you could to spare Pat," he told the lieutenant. It wasn’t a statement giving the lieutenant his personal absolution, but it was the best he could do.

**

Dr. Jamison checked on Patterson and returned to his office. His injuries were healing well. Slowly, his mental equilibrium seemed to be returning to normal. Since Ski had been discharged, he was becoming increasingly restless.

His office door opened. Joseph Pheerse took his customary seat beside him. "Still at it?" he asked, his tone warm and affectionate as he laid his hand over Doc’s.

"Yeah." He turned toward Joe and took his hand for a moment, feeling the tension lessen. "It takes ten minutes to treat a minor injury, and at least an hour to do the paperwork. And if somebody dies, you’re swamped for a while."

"I’ll help you," Pheerse offered.

Doc nodded. When they worked together, it seemed they got three times more work done in half the time.

"You got any plans when we reach port?" asked Pheerse, flashing him that irresistible grin.

Doc’s heart skipped a beat. He felt the first stirrings of desire as he thought of the future. "Umm hmm. You."

As Doc leaned forward to kiss Pheerse, there was an insistent knock on the door.

**

Kowalski’s anxiety kept building, gnawing at his insides. Between the anger because of what had happened to Patterson and Lieutenant Li Chu’s turning out to be a United States Naval officer, Kowalski felt as if his mind were stretched tighter than a fiddle string. Add to that, his mounting physical desire was not lessening his stress, to say the least.

Something’s got to give somewhere, he thought as he knocked on the door to Doc’s office.

There was a long pause. "Come in," Doc called.

Kowalski entered, suddenly feeling sheepish. Doc motioned for him to sit in the chair in front of his desk. "What can I do for you, Kowalski?" he asked.

Pheerse, who had been sitting in a chair beside Doc, excused himself and left, closing the door behind him.

"I need to know about some things, and I believe you’ll have the answers. I-I don’t want to bother Pat with it all, not right now. He’s been through enough."

Doc smiled. "I’ll do my best, Ski. What’s on your mind?" V "I-I wonder if-if maybe Pat might like Li Chu. Maybe want to actually be with him again," Kowalski stammered. "I was wondering if he said anything to you about him."

"I don’t think he wants Lieutenant Li Chu," Doc assured him. "Has he sought out the man since he knows he’s here?"

Kowalski shrugged. "Not that I know about."

Doc smiled. "I can assure you, he hasn’t asked me to tell him to come by. He doesn’t say anything about him, one way or the other. Li Chu came by here for a check-up. They spoke to each other very briefly. Patterson seemed to be very uncomfortable with him in here. Li Chu isn’t hanging around Sickbay."

Kowalski leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. "Damn! I guess I’m losing my mind. It’s just that when I think of anyone else with him--." His voice trailed off.

"Anger and even jealousy are normal feelings in a case like this. Usually, in the case of rape by an enemy unit, he would never see the people who did it again. This is an unusual situation, where Pat has to face one of the men involved in it, not to mention the fact that the man did what he could to help him get through it."

"But is it possible that Pat will reconsider his feelings about Li Chu and want to be with him again. I’m the only man he’s ever had. Maybe he will decide he wants to experiment for a while."

Doc shook his head. "I doubt it. His main concern is that if you can feel the same about him as you did before it happened. And whether Admiral Nelson fully respects him again." Doc paused for a moment, and then smiled a trifle. "You and he go back a long way. A relationship like you have is a product of esprit de corps, a feeling for him like you have for a brother, and best friends. Male bonding plays a part in it, too. However, the physical relationship has come into the situation. I’m talking about a lot more than ordinary lust. I’m talking about pair bonding, as well. And yes, love."

"What would you suggest I do?" asked Kowalski.

Doc’s expression became very serious. "Ski, whatever you do, be gentle and loving to Pat. He needs you, no one else. You and he can come through this even closer than you have been. However, if you don’t handle him with love and concern; if you try to rush things; if you allow your own insecurities to spill over, you can damage your relationship, maybe to the point of destroying it altogether."

**

After the satellites of the two nations had been destroyed, the ground forces of the United States Army and the Marine Corps rapidly turned the tide. With the nuclear ICBM systems of the Yo Shingh Empire and the Slavic Democratic States destroyed, the United Nations held an emergency session and decided to deploy a peacekeeping force.

Captured documents in the Yo Shingh Empire told the awful truth that was confirmed by the team of seismologists and other scientists sent into the Yo Shingh Empire to study the new fault. Admiral Nelson had been among the contingent of scientists.

He sat in his cabin at his desk. Lee was perched on the left side, facing him. Mr. Morton and Mr. O’Brien and Chief Sharkey sat in chairs facing him. As he informed them of the earthquake’s cause, the indignation returned.

"The Yo Shingh Empire officials knew the crust in that area was thin, but they still conducted those underground nuclear tests," he fumed. "They signed a test ban treaty which forbade underground testing almost thirty years ago. They went thousands of feet deep to prevent any radiation from leaking out so their violation wouldn’t be detected."

"What is going to happen now?"

Admiral Nelson snorted in disgust. "Just a slap on the wrist. Economic sanctions. A year-long trade embargo. UN weapons inspectors will be stationed there for a year to check for any more violations. Red Cross workers will help with the earthquake and tidal wave victims."

"They need to take those officials who did those tests and make them live near that radiation. Or drown them," Sharkey growled. "Let them know first-hand just what they did."

Admiral Nelson pressed his lips together, shaking his head. "A few corrupt, power-hungry officials ruined a big part of the Eastern Hemisphere. My grandmother used to say that one bad apple could spoil a whole bunch. She was so right!"

"But we managed to stop them from wrecking our country. Sometimes, you can only do so much," said Mr. Morton.

Admiral Nelson smiled, taking comfort in the fact that the United States was unharmed. "We did more than our share." Only he, Captain Crane and the men who participated in Operation Guardian knew how great a part they had played.

**

Usually, every crewman was jubilant when Seaview reached her homeport. This time, jubilant would have been a colossal understatement. Amid friendly catcalls, backslapping, and horseplay, the crew prepared to disembark.

Admiral Nelson’s voice on the loudspeaker rose over the bedlam. "Now hear this!"

Suddenly, there was very tense silence.

Maybe we’ll have to put to sea again, he thought hopefully. Normally, Patterson would have been ready to toss his sea bag to the deck and see how high he could make it bounce. This time was a different matter.

"As you know, you will have a ten-day leave. Then, we will embark again. We will be honored by a ticker-tape parade through New York, as well as a banquet at theRockefeller Center. Afterward, we are invited to the White House, where a ceremony and a banquet will be held in our honor," Admiral Nelson told them.

"You will be pressured by reporters to make statements about the mission. A press conference will be held at 1600 hours tomorrow afternoon. You are not to make any statements to the press concerning specific details of the mission. Those questions are to be answered at the press conference by Captain Crane and me. The President has ordered the data concerning the mission sealed for reasons of national security, so watch what you say to your friends and family as well.

"When you leave, please do so in an orderly, dignified manner. The eyes of the world will be on you and our boat. You are dismissed."

Everyone grabbed his bags and left the boat. Patterson glanced back in time to see the Master at Arms escort Alan Malcolm, hands cuffed behind his back, to the dock. Three men in business suits met them. They pulled something out of their pockets and showed them to the Master at Arms. Then, they took Malcolm to a waiting car.

As Patterson walked beside Kowalski to his Z-28, tendrils of dread tightened around his heart. I wish we were still at sea. It’s been six weeks. Doc says I’m okay now, but-but-. He broke off the unbearable thought. I don’t want Ski to touch me! A film of cold sweat made his clothes stick to him.

If Ski would be content just to hold me, maybe kiss me just a little, I think I could deal with that, but he won’t want to stop there. He has a tremendous sex drive. When we used to date women, he always had several on the string. After we became a couple, all of his desire centered on me. That was fine-until now!

Kowalski and Patterson arrived at the car. Kowalski unlocked the trunk. After putting their sea bags and duffle bags in, they got in and drove to the apartment they had shared for years.

As Kowalski wheeled into his parking space, a familiar yearning stirred deep within Patterson. Before his body could react, the faces of Captain Haitong, Lieutenant Li Chu, and the others stared into his mind’s eye as they thrust into him, despite his body’s resistance to their invasions. Feelings of degradation and defilement filled him anew. Instinctively, he tightened the muscles of his lower body as he remembered the savage assaults. His stomach churned as his heart began to pound.

Kowalski reached up and brushed his cheek as he opened the car door. "We’re home, Pat," he said huskily.

Pat could only nod as he opened the car door.

Once inside the apartment, they set down their things. Ski embraced him and pulled him tightly against him. Patterson stiffened momentarily, but managed to give Ski a peck on the lips and drape his arms around his shoulders.

"Come on, Pat. Last one in the shower is a rotten egg!" Ski called, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the bathroom.

Patterson squeezed Ski’s hand before pulling his out of Ski’s grasp. "You go ahead. I’ll get in when you’re finished," he told Ski.

Kowalski’s happy expression drained away. Patterson winced inwardly at the wounded look in his eyes.

When Kowalski emerged from the shower, he was nude. He got into bed on his side and covered himself with the sheet. Patterson got a tee shirt and briefs from his drawer and went to the bathroom to take a quick shower. As he was drying off, Ski walked in and stood watching him. Now, I know how a huge chunk of meat feels when a hungry shark is looking at it, thought Patterson. But I usually look at Ski like that, too.

"You’re getting awful modest, all of a sudden," Kowalski said. There seemed to be an edge to his tone.

"It’s not that. I-I just feel better with something on," Patterson told him.

When they were in bed, Kowalski moved close to him and laid his arm over him. Gently, Ski nibbled his earlobe and neck as he laid a hand over his crotch.

Patterson gasped and moved away. "Not now, Ski."

Kowalski looked at Patterson, his eyes narrowing. "All right, Pat. Have it your way," he said, his expression one of disappointment as he moved to his side of the bed.

Does Ski really love me? He’s acting pretty normal. Does he think I don’t love him anymore? He’s disappointed as hell. "I-I still love you, Ski."

Ski heaved a long sigh as he switched off the light. "Love you, too, Pat. Go to sleep.

**

Ski lay in the semi-darkness. The night-light cast a pale glow over Patterson as he slept. Usually, they both slept nude. This time, Pat had donned tee shirt and briefs after taking his shower. He studied Pat’s face. Even asleep, his mouth was pulled down at the corners.

Ski’s eyes drank in Pat’s body, from his medium-brown hair, to his feet. Kissing his mouth makes me feel like I’m melting. He saw the twin dots of Pat’s nipples through his tee shirt. It was all he could do to refrain from brushing them with his lips and laving them through the material. His eyes were drawn to the white material, which covered the mound of Pat’s genitals.

Very gently, Ski brushed Pat’s nipples with his fingertips. Startled, Pat sat up, gasping. Ski froze, waiting to see what Pat would do next. Pat turned away from him and moved to the edge of his side of the bed, then lay back down.

Desire surged through Ski with the force of a major tsunami. His penis was rock-hard; his scrotum was rapidly tightening against his body. The tension spread from his loins to his solar plexus. From there, it traveled through his body and seemed to be sinking into his soul.

Part of Ski wanted to overpower Pat and kiss and fondle him until he submitted, while another wanted to cry for the inner anguish he knew Pat was going through. He wanted to hold Pat in his arms and comfort him, but he didn’t trust himself.

Ski got out of bed and trudged into the living room. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then walked to his chair and sat down, placing his feet on the matching ottoman. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. God, please don’t let me lose it and take Pat before he’s willing! I wouldn’t hurt him for anything, but right now, I need us to join our bodies together again; to feel the completeness of our love again! It’s been so long!

It isn’t that I just need to get my rocks off. I want to make it good for him again. I want to take away the memory that any other man has forced him. I want to make him forget all the pain and degradation. I want to remind him of what real love is!

Suddenly, Kowalski heard several loud bumps coming from the bedroom. "No! Oh, God! No! Let go of me, you son of a bitch!" Pat screamed, gasping for breath.

Ski sprang to his feet and rushed back into their bedroom. He flipped on the light. Pat was thrashing madly about. Gently, he shook Pat’s shoulder, trying to wake him. "Take it easy, Pat. It’s just a bad dream. It’s all right," he assured Pat.

Pat swung wildly, catching his jaw with a glancing blow before he could back away. Kowalski shook it off, then threw himself on top of Pat, grabbing and pinning Pat’s hands down on each side of his head. "Pat! Pat! Wake up!" he yelled.

Pat’s eyes flew open. Then, sobs shook his body.

Ski planted tiny kisses on Pat’s forehead, his tear-filled eyes, and his wet cheeks.

His body relaxed somewhat. "Pat, you’re home. You’re with me. You’re safe now. No one will hurt you," he murmured, briefly touching his lips to Pat’s.

Pat’s breathing began to slow down.

Ski relaxed his grip on Pat’s hands and entwined his fingers through Pat’s. Ski closed his eyes as the sensation of Pat’s body under his threatened to rip away his self-control. His erect penis was trapped between their bodies, shooting runnels of desire all through him.

Gently, Ski kissed Pat’s forehead and eyes again, then strayed to his ears, venturing tiny licks on his earlobes as he breathed gently on Pat’s outer ears. Then, he briefly pressed his open mouth against Pat’s. To his delight, Pat kissed him back.

"Pat! Oh, Pat," Kowalski murmured as he continued to kiss his lover very tenderly. His erection was now agonizing in its hardness. He slipped his hands under Pat’s tee shirt and gently ran his hands over Pat’s body. He found Pat’s nipples and grazed over them with his fingers before pinching them very slightly.

Pat smiled, shuddering under him.

Kowalski began thrusting and rubbing his groin against Pat’s. "I need you, buddy-mine," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire as shudders coursed through his entire body. If I keep this up much longer, I’m going to come!

Pat stiffened; his eyes widened. "Ski, I-I-." Pat stopped, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulped.

Kowalski flicked Pat’s earlobe and neck with his tongue, something that always stirred Pat. "Pat, why don’t you top me?"

"Ski, I-I can’t," he said.

Ski looked down at Pat’s genitals. His penis was still soft.

There was another possibility. "Pat, why don’t you impale yourself on me. That way, you can take your time and ease onto me as slowly as you need to. You’ll be in control," he said. "Would you be more comfortable with that? Would you be willing to try it for me?"

Ski felt Pat’s body relax against his almost immediately. Pat nodded, his lips slowly parting in a smile.

Kowalski opened his nightstand drawer and took out a tube of lubricant. Slowly, he took off Pat’s tee shirt and briefs. As Kowalski saw the scars Pat still carried from his ordeal, he touched his lips to them, one by one. Closing his eyes, he fought back the tears.

Ski rolled onto his back. Patterson lay on top of him. Placing one hand at the back of his neck, he guided Pat’s head down and claimed his lips in a thorough, loving kiss.

Then, Kowalski opened the tube and squirted some lubricant onto his fingers. He paused for a moment, letting it warm before rubbing it on the opening of Pat’s body. Carefully, he lubed the entrance, then slowly inserted his finger. It took Pat much longer than usual to relax. Eventually, he inserted a second finger; then a third. Finally, Pat took the lube and greased Ski’s shaft.

As the heaven of Pat’s hot, velvety channel slowly engulfed his penis, Ski shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on something besides the exquisite sensations his loins transmitted through his entire body. He wanted to grasp Pat’s hips and pull him down as he thrust upward, the way he usually did when they were in this position. Instead, he brushed Pat’s large brownish-pink nipples with his fingertips.

It seemed to take forever, but Pat’s buttocks finally rested on his lower body. As Pat leaned backward slightly, Ski thrust upward very gently. Suddenly, Pat flushed deeply and moaned softly; his nipples began hardening under his fingers. Ski pulled back, then repeated the gentle, upward thrust. Pat’s penis began to elongate and become heavier. Ski repeated the thrust several more times. Soon, Pat had a full erection. Ski stroked it very gently.

Ski felt it start in his testicles, then explode over his entire body. Grabbing Pat’s hips, Ski held him still as he writhed and moaned and shuddered. Everything became gray for several moments. "Oh, buddy-mine, I’ve needed you!" he gasped, closing his eyes as the relief flowed through him.

Pat gently, carefully eased himself onto Ski. Their lips met demandingly, seeking the same joining as their bodies. He gently caressed Pat’s back for several moments as they continued to kiss.

Finally, Ski pushed Pat up slightly so that he could look into his light blue eyes, which were now dark with passion. "Pat, let me take care of you."

"Do you really want to?" Pat’s husky voice broke. Tears welled up in his blue eyes.

"You bet I do, Pat," he breathed. Slowly, Ski rolled Pat over and lay on top of him, nipping his lips gently before molding his open mouth to Pat’s. Their tongues met, exploring each other’s mouths. Then, he moved down to Pat’s throat, nibbling his Adam’s apple, then the hollow just below it.

Pat’s arms wound around his shoulders as he quivered and gasped. Ski felt the wet tip of Pat’s erection nudge against his belly. Ski kissed a trail through the dark blonde down to Pat’s large nipples, taking the right one into his mouth and laving it with his tongue as he stroked the other one with his thumb. Quickly, he moved to lick the other one before gently sucking it. Pat moaned.

Ski kissed and licked as he made his way down Pat’s chest and past his navel. He touched them to the glistening tip of Pat’s erection. He closed his eyes as he smelled the sweet muskiness of Pat’s clean loins and tasted the salty-sweet, yet slightly bleachy flavor of Pat’s pre-come. He ran his tongue over Pat’s glans, savoring the taste he had craved for so long.

Pat moaned and trembled violently, thrusting upward and into his mouth.

Ski brushed the opening of Pat’s body with a finger, then eased it inside of him, sliding it in and out. Several moments later, he inserted two fingers. Ski took Pat’s glans in his mouth, sucking it gently as he probed Pat’s channel and caressed his perineum. Then, Ski could no longer resist taking Pat’s entire shaft into his mouth.

Moaning and panting, Pat ran his hands through Ski’s hair and over his shoulders. Ski began moving his lips up and down Pat’s shaft as his fingers found Pat’s prostate. He caressed the small gland in rhythm to the ministrations of his mouth.

Suddenly, Pat screamed as his body convulsed violently. Pat’s hot, rich semen gushed into Ski’s mouth. Ski swallowed, savoring the taste. For several moments, he continued to stimulate Pat’s gland as he ran his tongue around the rim of his shaft, prolonging his orgasm and coaxing every possible drop of fluid from him.

Finally, Ski stretched out on top of Pat and took him in his arms. As he touched his lips to Pat’s, Pat laved them, then bestowed on him an angelic smile as he reached up and stroked his hair. "I love you, Ski. And I’ve missed and needed you, too." He paused. His expression became serious. "I-I was afraid I could never feel like this again."

They kissed deeply and passionately once more. Ski rolled to the right side of Pat, and lay next to him, draping an arm protectively over Pat’s waist. Pat turned to face Ski, moving close to him and slipped an arm across Ski’s shoulders. As they continued to kiss, the sparks of their mutual desire burst into flame once more. This time, Pat rolled over, pulling Ski on top of him as he pulled his legs up to give him access to his channel. Ski entered him slowly and carefully. As Ski thrust into Pat, he watched Pat’s eyes for any sign of anxiety. Pat’s eyes, now dilated and dark blue with passion, shone only with the fervor of his love.

Although he would have liked to prolong their lovemaking, the ecstasy hit his loins like the tidal waves they had witnessed-powerful and unstoppable-and spread throughout his body. A second later, Pat moaned as his semen shot onto their bellies. Finally, they lay together, his softening penis still inside Pat’s channel, deliciously sated and exhausted.

Pat’s arms tightened around him. "I’ve got a confession to make. I’ve fantasized about being with someone else once in a while."

"Oh?"

"But there is one thing what happened to me has taught me. I could never want or need or love anyone but you."

Ski smiled. "A bit of fantasy is normal, Pat. Just as long as thinking is all you do."

"Don’t worry. It will be," Pat promised.

"Those bastards took you on a long journey through hell, but you’ve made it back now," Ski murmured, then paused, his throat constricting with emotion.

Ski felt ashamed for a moment. He had worried about Pat’s wanting to experiment with others. Instead, the experience had turned him totally off to the idea. And if he was fantasizing about whom I think it was and would turn him down-.

Ski lost his train of thought as Pat gazed into his eyes in that way that stirred such deep tenderness within him. "Knowing you really loved me and still wanted me gave me the strength to face what happened and get past it," Pat whispered huskily.

Making that final journey back is probably the hardest thing he has ever done, reflected Ski. And he did it so that we could be together again. A profound feeling of tender protectiveness surged through him as he realized that Pat was indeed his, and no one else’s.

**

After speaking with Angie, Admiral Nelson unlocked his office and entered. The NIMR banner hung in the middle of the wall immediately behind him. He walked slowly to his desk and sank into the dark maroon leather chair. On his right stood the American flag; an eagle ornament topped the flagpole. To his left was the Navy flag.

To think that it all could have been vaporized. The odds were against us being here, but we’re still around, nonetheless. Someone was definitely looking out for us.

A sudden chill ran along his spine.The telephone on his light oak desk startled him out of his reverie. Admiral Nelson put down his cigarette and snatched the handset from its cradle. "Admiral, Mr. Calvin Braithwaite wishes to speak with you," Angie Cartwright said.

"Put him through," he told his secretary.

"Admiral Nelson, this is Calvin Braithwaite. I’m calling in reference to the man, Alan Malcolm, whom we placed under arrest several days ago." Mr. Braithwaite paused. "I’ve got some good news and some bad news."

"Might as well let me have the bad news first," Admiral Nelson said.

"According to JAG, Malcolm was a civilian employee of NIMR at the time the incident occurred, not Navy or Naval Reserves. The military has no jurisdiction over him."

Admiral Nelson felt the rage race through him. "Damn!" he exploded. "What does the man have to do? Blow up a Federal Building and confess before a Federal agency can do anything to him?"

"We bound him over to the FBI. He was to have been charged with collaborating with the enemy and tried in a Federal court. If convicted, he could have served twenty to thirty years in a federal prison." Mr. Braithwaite fell silent again. "His parents and an uncle or two are very well-off. They put up his bail. One million dollars."

"Money talks-louder than everything else," Admiral Nelson growled. "Just like always."

"It gets weird. Real weird. You see, when our agents told him he was being released, he became very agitated. He insisted on staying in jail. Begged them to hold him! We told him he had to leave since his family had posted his bail. Then, he said it didn’t matter, anyway. He was screwed, no matter what he did."

"Sounds to me like he bit off more than he can chew and doesn’t know what to do about it," Admiral Nelson said. "But you can bet I’ll testify against him."

"You won’t have to. Listen to this. Less than twenty-four hours after he was released, the local police got a call from his parents’ maid. Seems the maid found him on the patio. He had hanged himself from one of the exposed beams."

Admiral Nelson grunted, taking a drag from his cigarette and slowly blowing out the smoke. "I suppose you could say he has paid for what he did," he conceded.

The agent grunted. "Weird fellow. Most people are wanting out of jail. He’s the first one I’ve ever seen that wanted to stay in. Beats all I’ve ever heard of!"

**

Epilogue

The officers and men of the USSRN Seaview were given a ticker-tape parade through the streets of New York. That night, they were wined and dined in Rockefeller Center, as the President promised they would be. The eyes and adoration of the United States and almost the entire world were heaped upon them.

Lieutenant Michael Li Chu returned to ONI Headquarters at Suitland, Maryland. His mission as Mahmth Li Chu was over.

In the Yo Shingh Empire, the citizenry was very uneasy. Thanks to the blunders by the government, the people were beginning to rebel against the Communist tyranny. Of course, the leaders blamed the United States for the debacle that had befallen their country.

The new Slavic Democratic States also blamed the United States, but especially Admiral Nelson, for his intervention. The Premier and his cabinet vowed that someday, they would defeat "the menace in the West". The new Cold War was on.

Thanks to Admiral Nelson’s program, Operation Guardian, the United States and her Allies would be able to fight against tyranny and keep the dream of freedom and human dignity alive in the world. If necessary, the men and women of the United States Armed Forces-and the officers and men of the Seaview, as well-would be ready.

END