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************************************************** From: patti keiper (pattik1@hotmail.com) Sent:
Mon 6/16/14 11:42 PM Subject: Bedside Manners
A faint occasional crackle roused Dr. Morton
from a maelstrom of nightmares. "Oh." he moaned softly once he identified the noise with the sound
of a geiger counter being swept over him from head to toe over the cocoon of blankets he felt wrapped
about him.
A trio of blurry faces a few inches away welcomed him to full consciousness.
"Dr.
Morton?" asked DeSoto's voice. "Are you in any pain right now?"
"Easy, doctor. You've had a rough
time." said an unfamiliar voice, which was immediately followed by a pair of fingers pressing down
on his carotid artery in a pulse quality check. "My name's Bron Reese. I'm the ship's medic. Don't
move your right arm. You've an I.V. in place." he warned.
Dr. Morton's unfocused vision sharpened
and took in Bron's curly hair and chistled features. "I'm a five, Roy." Mike mumbled about his pain
scale. Dr. Morton licked his dry lips, tasting his saliva inside of his mouth. To Medic Reese he replied.
" Sweet and salty. Ringer's Lactate, I'd guess. Antecubital?"
"Wide open. How do you feel?"
Gage grinned, checking the flow of Mike's oxygen through the mask placed tightly over his nose and
mouth.
"Like I jumped out of a plane.." rasped Morton, controlling some ragged breathing.
"Didn't quite make it that far." Roy reminded. "Do you remember?"
"No.." replied Morton, whispering
through the swollen places on his face.
Roy and Johnny exchanged unhappy glances with each other.
"Can it!" he snapped at the two. "I am oriented to now." challenged Morton. "Turn up the
audible on my EKG. I wanna hear it. Something's off... I'm... growing short of breath."
"We
think early cardiac tamponade, doc." said Reese, flipping a switch. "But you went off the bag twenty
minutes ago, regaining your respiratory reflexes once I began pushing your fluids."
"Rally
ho.. *cough* ". Mike grinned slightly, sweat sheening his forehead. "That was the lungs, now it's
time to work on the... old ticker." he said, concentrating on the warbling song of the cardiac monitor
to see how it was faring. "Alternans."
"1:2." DeSoto confirmed. "How's your sensation of pressure?"
"Rising.. But not... bad. Don't think I'm... ballooning pericardially yet. Let's hold off on that
tray tap, Vampire Gage. I'm not in high crisis yet." Morton said no nonsense.
Johnny Gage guiltily
dropped a sterile vacuum syringe fitted with an I.C. needle that he had been holding out of Morton's
sight, back onto the table. "Damn. I hate informed consent laws."
Morton chuckled weakily.
"Read it and weep. Learn the lesson now. Gotta love anyone alert and oriented times three. Always."
he said, flexing his fingers and toes, testing their grip and flexibility. He frowned when he felt
that his right hand was a little tardy in reacting to impulses. "I've detriment?" he asked.
Bron
just shrugged in his tan navy uniform. "Babinski's is negative."
"Could just be temporary swelling.
I didn't feel anything out of alignment." Roy added.
"We're setting up our Xray to take some films."
Reese promised.
"Good. Uh,... good. Did you get orders for mannitol?" Morton asked him.
"Yep.
Got it right here." said Reese, holding up a box. "A Dr. Welby's already told me to piggy back it
once we were sure you were fully awake enough to confirm or deny any medication allergies."
"I
don't have any, Mr. Reese. Pump away."
"Done." said the sailor, stringing up a second I.V. with
its orange warning label. He soon connected its needle flow into the injection chamber on the Ringer's
bag and began to run it in.
Morton closed his eyes, too tired to monitor the process. "If my
involvement's not a spinal compression, that steroid should do the trick to undo this lag." he said
waving shaky fingers on his effected hand. "How're my rads doing?"
"Uh, Dr. Morton.. I really..
uh,.. they're just a ...little teeny tiny bit ....more than ours." Gage said, seriously reluctant
to spill any numbers.
"That's understandable, Gage. I'm not stupid. I was in it far longer than
you." Then he turned to the sailor minding him. "Report, Lieutenant!" Morton ordered Reese. "These
two civilians are mincing their feet!"
"160 mSv. Before decontamination, sir!" snapped Bron
obediently.
Johnny fired off an irritated look at the sailor for betraying them. The consequences
were not long in coming.
Morton's face fell into surprise, stunned. Then he pursed his bruised
lips. " *Whew*. Ouch. Guess my afro's gonna be even curlier for a while. Uh,.." he blinked in concentration.
"Got that iodine water?"
"Sip it." Reese warned with a finger, despite his lesser rank to
Morton. "Choking on a P.O. is not better than a thyroid storm."
Morton raised the open silver
bottle handed to him in a mocking bright salute. "Cheers." he said, before he pushed up his oxygen
mask to the top of his head to drink from it carefully.
Roy and Johnny rose from their stools
next to Morton's patient bunk. "Well, looks like you're well handled, doc. We're... gonna go get some
chow. The ship's cap has invited us to grab some dinner..." Johnny preambled.
"...and a show.
Got it. Let me know what radiation is going to make me puke in an hour. I'd appreciate it." Morton
grimaced, drinking more of his vile tasting preventative.
"As soon as yesterday." Roy promised.
"Reese, can you send a man up with his vitals signs every five minutes?"
"Will do." Reese
grinned, neatly catching the iodine thermos when Morton finally succumbed back into grogginess and
it slipped out of his fingers. "I know how you land based rescue medics like to keep patients under
a close microscope. Consider it done." he replied, returning the oxygen mask to Morton's face quickly.
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Once out in the ship's main passageway next to sickbay, DeSoto and Gage let out their real feelings
about Morton.
"We're gonna have to knock him out." Johnny insisted, ansy with worry.
"We
can't. We don't have the orders. We can't force treatment on him until he's passed out again and
showing serious signs of circulatory decompensation, pericardial tapping or no." DeSoto reasoned.
"We can always pinch off his O2 flow's tubing."
"No." Roy said, holding up a no nonsense
firm finger with an iron stare. But then his resolve crumbled. "Although that'd be pretty sneaky,
I'll admit."
"So let's get back in there.." Gage said, turning on his heel to grab the hatch's
wheel that they had just sealed.
Roy grabbed his arm and stopped him with an iron grip. "Ah,
ah." he chided. "Chet's the funny one. Not you. Let's go eat before you land yourself in the brig."
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*************************************************** From: patti keiper pattik1@hotmail.com Subject:
The Glow Factor Sent: Thu 7/17/14 3:14 PM
Dawn was just rising when Dixie McCall snuck into
the nurse's lounge to take a well served break time cat nap. She was about to sit down wearily on
the couch in the dimly lit room, when a lump under a blanket announced itself there with a contented
masculine sigh. McCall checked herself from sitting sharply from a startled half crouch an instant
before she smiled. "Don't tell me, you gave up your bunk to an orderly who was the walking dead."
she addressed the lump.
Joe Early snuffled awake and hesitated as mental processes caught
up with what his ears had taken in a few seconds ago from dreamland. "Uhh. Yeah. Max was death
warmed over when he staggered into the doctor's lounge around nine o'clock last night. He was the
one assigned to Mrs. Burke as she came to in Recovery."
"Oh, boy." Dixie tempered into sympathy.
"I'll bet she was an armful."
"More than one from what I heard from Kel." Joe shared. "He said
the anesthesiologist got his consciousness baseline vitals set for his chart in record time after
he had her extubated. Then he lit out of Dodge." Early grinned, sitting up in his blanket sleepily.
He patted the cushion next to himself. "Come on. I've had my.." he broke off to look at his watch
"...twenty minutes of oblivion. And we both know the couch is all yours." He stood up and draped
the quilt over Dixie's shoulders. "I'll even prepare a new coffee pot for when you snap out of
it."
Dixie tumbled sideways into the body heat warmed spot, protesting. "Don't you dare.
The aroma of brewing java'll make the whole hospital come running. Then where would I be?"
"Without a couch?" Joe guessed.
"You said it." she murmured groggily from deep within the pillows.
"There's always the chapel. No one would dare barge in on you there." Early chuckled, glancing
down at the new lump. "Dixie?" There was no reply. Wisely, Joe slunk out as quietly as Dixie had
snuck in to avoid a deadly accurate pillow lobbed at his back for lingering. As he closed the lounge
door gingerly in front of him, Dr. Early almost leaped out of his skin when he backed into a waiting
Kel.
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"Watch!" Dr. Brackett grumbled as he danced back a few steps to avoid getting his toes stepped on.
"Oh, sorry, Kel." smiled Joe.
"Don't tell me, she's fled to in there." Kel motioned
with his eyes over Joe's rumpled shoulder.
"Yep. It's her break. Give her one." Joe said,
his face levelling instantly from friendly amusement into a firm dead pan challenge.
Brackett
was nonplussed. "Hmm. I guess. It's only going to get busier later on I suppose."
"Oh?" Early
asked.
"A new brush fire's popped up near Hancock Park on its own and its got anybody in a
white helmet all in a fuss."
"Oh, no." Joe said following Kel as he made his way back over to
Carol, manning the main E.R. desk and the county wide scanner that was activated there.
"I'm
afraid so. Nothing like a little fire near the La Brea tar pits."
"Has Fire rolled on it yet?"
Joe wondered.
Brackett noddded. "Just as fast as they heard about it. And for good reasons."
"How many companies? That might give us a heads up on future casualty numbers." Joe asked,
planning ahead.
"Two so far. Everybody else is still at the pier site."
Early's kind features
twisted into worry. "They still don't know?"
"Not yet. I can see Battalion not telling any of
us what kind of radiation's leaking to prevent the public from learning about it too soon through
the media." Brackett replied.
"They're not going to be able to hide it for long. People
are going to noticed folks running around in full hazardous materials gear on the beach." Joe added.
"Any new word on Mike?"
Kel nodded. "He's better. Vitals are holding as well as can be expected
considering that he came down in a plane that smashed into a naval ship. But yeah, I still wish I
could talk to him. Directly. And as soon as possible."
"I can probably arrange that." said a new
voice from behind them. Kel and Joe whirled around to see a very tall brawny bear of a man with dark
slicked back hair, in a doctor's coat, grinning at them. "Hi, I'm Dr. Steven Kiley. The state recruited
my boss's family practice to help handle things as long as this.." he hesitated, mindful of some
nearby public passing by, "... environmental emergency lasts." he held out a hand in greeting.
Drs. Brackett and Early shared handshakes with Dr. Kiley quickly.
Kel smiled back. "Just the
man I want to see. I heard from my best medic that your boss's handiwork is already in the mix for
our trapped intern. What's his name again? Dr. Marcus...."
"Welby." Steven replied.
"Good
name." Joe chuckled.
"He thinks so, too." Kiley laughed. "Works with the kids when they finally
get it. Now about reaching your patient. Uh,...can we talk a little more privately?"
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"Let's use my office." Kel offered, heading that way.
Once they were all seated with the door
closed, Steven Kiley spilled the beans. "It's grade three tritium escaping from the ship. It's just
been confirmed."
Brackett let out a deep sigh of relief. "From what I've read, tritium emits only
very low energy beta waves."
Joe nodded. "Won't even get through bare skin, even dusted on."
Kel eyed him up. "Yeah, but breathing it in or ingesting it's another story. Everyone on that
ship won't be able to eat or drink anything until they get out of there. Not without contaminating
themselves into health threatening levels."
"That's why I'm here." Kiley shared. "Can your three
get by living on injectibles for a few days? It's the only option Marcus and I can come up with that'll
maintain them comfortably in the interim."
Joe spoke up. "No diabetes on any of them if that's
what you mean. Neither our paramedics nor Mike is on any kind of regular medication for existing
conditions. They should be fine doing that."
"Do they know?" Kel asked Kiley.
"Not
yet. I just found out on my way here to talk to you."
"I'll tell them." Kel said, getting up to
go to the alcove station. "What's the big option for talking to Mike Morton? You said you had one."
"Television. Two way. Not the same as a radio frequency. That kind of signal will get through
the radiation cloud." Kiley replied.
"Brilliant idea." Kel smiled. "Who thought of that?"
"My wife. She was watching the news when I called her an hour ago. She was wondering why she could
see their footage so clearly on the air even with the ship's communications black out going on."
he replied ruefully.
Joe snapped his fingers. "They can run wires from the beach to and from the
ship!"
"Exactly. Shouldn't be too hard to set up. Frogmen could do it, using seawater to shield
themselves." Steven answered as he watched the door close behind Dr. Brackett. "Now I think we should
get started with treatment plans for when your three get out of there. You know their medical histories
better than I do."
Early nodded. "That's a truth. Come with me, we'll roust up their patient charts
from Records."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the mess hall of the Blue Ridge, Roy and Johnny sat down before a laden table full of food.
"I wish I could offer you better clothes, gentlemen." began U.S.N. Captain Ty Masterson, his
rugged fifties features dimpling his square chin underneath a long crew cut of blond hair. The ship's
C.O. rose from his chair, his plate still empty, showing respect to his arriving guests.
Roy
and Johnny shook his hand, hiding left over phlegm from their voices as they introduced themselves.
"These are fine, sir. A far sight better than our uniforms. Those are probably still glowing." Gage
quipped, taking a seat after the captain gestured to two chairs placed opposite his over the dining
table.
"They'll be decontaminated, dried, pressed, and returned to you shortly. Decorum's one
thing, but for identification's sake by eye for my crew who haven't met you yet, I have to ask that
you put your civvies back on as soon as possible so we can avoid any confusion."
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"Yes, sir." replied Roy, saluting in a proper way. Johnny just looked and felt out of place. "Uh,
I'm not Navy. Sorry for not knowing how to act." he confessed to Ty.
"This is an emergency situation.
I don't expect unnecessary formalities if it wastes time. Be yourselves, please. Mr. Gage, Mr. DeSoto,
a few of my men." Masterson indicated from those who were serving up their meal items into stainless
steel bowls and trays around them."Private Miguel Garcia, communications officer. Lieutenant
Commander Cole Stanger, my second C.O., you've already met Bron Reese, ship's medic. Here's Crewman
Rick Connelly, ship's executive information officer, he's our link to the outside press. I'm afraid
our ship's engineer is dead and therein lies our most immediate problem. He was one of the few who
knew the nuclear areas of the ship like the back of his hand. The rest of us are muddling through.
We're on our own fixing the radiation problem. At least, until the powers that be figure out a safe
way to get in an expert team to take over for us."
"Any active fire working, sir?" DeSoto asked,
unable to fall out of Navy form of talk.
"None. Just a little smoke, which we're venting. Anyone
with fire crew training's still sweeping the ship in protective gear looking for hot spots. Anyone
else freed up has a geiger counter in one hand and a respirator in the other, analyzing our situation
thoroughly." Ty replied.
Second-in-Command Cole Stanger, a rugged Italian, spoke up. "We were
docked when your friend's jet hit us. We have just a skeleton crew of twelve. It was only bad
luck that our engineer was in the cargo hold when it came down on top of him."
"We didn't see
him but we probably knew he was there." Johnny said reluctantly of the odor they had noticed while
getting Dr. Morton out of the plane.
"Body recovery is last priority." agreed a pudgy, brown eyed,
receding banged, short man. His name tag read Rick Connelly. "You three, became the first in the captain's
eyes. Eat up." he said tightly, trying to keep hold of his emotions of grief. "Sorry. Engineer Stevens
was a good friend."
Gage and DeSoto remained respectful as Connelly pushed the first steaming
plate full of roast beef before them after passing off a serving fork to them.
"Guests eat first."
Stanger replied, trying to smile at the paramedics.
"Thank you." Johnny said soberly, taking the
utensil.
Miguel suddenly leaned into the portable head set he was wearing plugged into a wall.
He pushed an attached microphone in front of his mouth. "Understood." he said suddenly. He ripped
them off to address Masterson. "Sir, a doctor from a local hospital's on the line. He says it's urgent."
"Pipe it speaker." Ty said calmly, rising to his feet to get rid of some nervous anticipation
as he readied himself for anything.
Garcia flipped a switch and turned up the volume.
##Do
not eat or drink anything. *static* Tritium's your culprit. You'll stay healthy if the contaminant
stays outside your bodily systems. Do you *crackle* read me?## came Dr. Brackett's voice.
Gage
dropped the bite of meat he had just been about to put into his mouth. Hastily, he shoved away his
meal in shocked horror. "Too close." he mumbled.
Roy spoke up. "We heard, Rampart. Any further
guidelines?"
##Absolutely nothing P.O. Initiate I.V.s and glucose if anybody weakens appreciably
in the next few days. A Steven Kiley beside me is still being sent advice from the Nuclear Board,
but what he knows now is critical about what this stuff is and how to handle it. Listen to *static*--m
carefully.## Brackett began, his voice full of concern.
"I know the word but not what it does
to the body, doctors." said Masterson to the air. "I do know where it might materialize on my ship
as a danger. It's made in our heavy water-moderated reactors whenever a deuterium nucleus captures
a neutron." Dr. Kiley's voice came over the air waves. ##Like ordinary water, water containing
tritium, tritiated water, is colorless and odorless. So avoid any standing water. You won't know
the difference between sea water and the HTO H20. On a side note, this tritium is the same stuff
that makes any diving watch numbers and hands glow.##
In distaste, every sailor in the room eyed
up theirs in a new light.
## It's safe enough, but try not to breathe in any dust or smoke if
you don't have to.## Kiley advised. ##My informant says if you do, it is quickly and uniformly distributed
throughout the body, going directly into soft tissues and organs. The associat--*static* dose to
these tissues is generally uniform and dependent on the tissues’ water content.##
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"But we can't drink to dilute anything." said Stanger.
"We'll run in I.V. solutions." Gage told
him. "We don't have to swallow."
##That's right, Mr. Gage. ## replied Kiley. ##*crackle* Anything
you have absorbed so far, will be excreted out into your urine along with the water. Easily. No special
treatments past the usual. HTO has a short biological half-life in the human body of 7 to 14
days. The only trick is to avoid accumulating levels high enough to jeopardize your lives until it
dies off.##
Connelly dipped his head. "Oh, thank G*d." he whispered.
"Glued to a geiger.
Got it. Thanks for the intel. We'll keep you two posted, doctors." said Masterson, gesturing for
Garcia to terminate their reception.
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A warm, partially pocket melted granola bar was slammed into the garbage from across the room
from Dr. Morton's beside.
Mike snickered at the unhappy, partially angry expression on Medic
Bron Reese's face. "So the rest of you joined my club of no food or water. It's not so bad. How good
are you at starting your own I.V.?"
Reese just rolled his eyes.
"I could start yours
for you. Only something wrong with one of my hands." Mike offered in amusement.
"Suck wind,
sir. Respectfully, I hate needles." Reese grinned after his tirade.
"But you use them all of the
time." Morton gestured in amazement.
"It's my own personal little secret."
Mike fell serious.
"I'll keep it confidential. So who's the one you picked to do it?"
"Not Gage. He's too twitchy
for me."
Morton giggled.
Medic Reese glared at him.
Morton held up a hand in surrender.
"Sorry, but Gage is a funny man to everybody."
"I pick DeSoto. He's Navy. He knows what he's doing.
He was practically dripping it from when first I laid eyes on him through the hatch before decontamination."
"You're right about that. DeSoto was Gage's mentor and main instructor." Morton winced suddenly
at a pain in his chest. "Ow.."
Bron's eyes shot up to the cardiac monitor. "Is that new?"
Morton panted a few breaths under his oxygen mask. "Yeah. Just now."
Reese rose from his stool
and leaned over Morton's bed. "I'm... going to get a double set of B.P.'s on both arms. If they're
different..."
Morton sighed, short and tight, the sweat returning to his brow. "It's tap time.
I can tell by inhaling. Call the calvary.." he grunted.
"On it." Bron promised.
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************************************************** From: patti keiper pattik1@hotmail.com Subject:
Escalation... Sent: Thu 8/14/14 2:27 PM
A large BOOM shot through the mess hall, its concussive
vibrations making the overhead beams rattle alarmingly.
"What was that?!" shouted Private
Miguel Garcia as he shot to his feet from his chair.
"Nothing good." said Ty Masterson. "All ears
on!" he ordered to the room at large.
Immediately, general quarters sounded and the intercom next
to the radio crackled to life. ##Deck B, Armory. Explosion. Possible fire. All fire grade are responding.
We're seeing structural damage!## came the duty officer's report from the bridge over the speakers.
Masterson slammed his fist against a talk button control. "Tell me more when I get there!" he
barked.
##Yes, sir.## replied the sailor on the air.
Ty started to rush out of the room
when Roy spoke softly enough to grab his attention. "We know confined space rescue. Can we help?"
Blue Ridge's captain pursed his lips tightly, considering. Then he shook his head. "Your responsibility
is to your patient first. You have my permission to do whatever you have to, to secure his welfare
and safety, according to the training you already know. My men and I will handle the ship and its
own personnel. That way, there are fewer ways for us to blunder into making any critical mistakes.
Stanger, you're with them. Keep in touch with me at all times."
"Thank you, sir." replied DeSoto.
"Understood." said Cole at the same time.
Soon, the dining table was empty except
for the steaming plates of served food left behind that would never get eaten. On the desk, the tritium
geiger counter's clicks continued to get stronger and more frequent in a steady rise of radioactivity.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As they ran
along the upper deck of the ship, headed for the hatchway stairs that led down to sickbay, Gage trailed
a bare hand along the metal hull of the ship. "Nothing's hot. And I'm not feeling any more sound
waves. Whatever it was is over." he gasped, thinking hard about what might be happening.
"We
hope." nodded Cole, running close behind. "Takes an awful lot to shake the ship as much as that concussion
did."
Finally, they were there. Stanger reached for the hatch wheel to open it. It sizzled in
his palms. "Ahh!" he yelled, letting go. "Stay back." he warned. "Why is this boiling?" he frowned,
wincing as he shook his hands in the air to cool them more quickly.
Roy stepped up. "Are you burned
bad?"
Cole shook his head, spitting on his hands to speed up their cooling in the tainted
wind and smoke surrounding them.
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Johnny carefully felt around the doorway. "It's just the hatch. It can't be active fire, Roy, or this
whole wall would be hot, too." he reasoned.
Cole agreed. He ran over to a deck side emergency
phone and picked it up. "Sickbay hatch top deck's in the red! Two men inside. We need a muster!"
he shouted to the communications officer on the bridge who answered his line. Then he hung up and
jogged back to Gage and DeSoto. "Help's on the way."
"Johnny, it's got to be a water pipe."
Roy pegged. "Something's heated and ruptured it."
"D@mn. I think you're right. Boy, do I hate
steam." Gage grimaced. "Maybe we can crawl in under it once we get this open." Grabbing a nearby
pry bar, Johnny pounded a few times on the hatch to alert Dr. Morton and Medic Bron Reese below that
they were there and understood the problem.
Then all three men threaded the bar into the hatch
wheel's spokes so they would be able to turn it safely without getting scalded by its superheated
metal.
"Get ready. That steam behind the door could be under a huge amount of pressure. Stay
low when this pops open!" Roy warned Stanger as he and Johnny strained on the bar to turn the wheel.
The hatch blew out and rebounded on its hinges as the door released into open mode. A monster
cloud of steam billowed out of sickbay. When it cleared, only a tangle of stairwell railing, twisted
pipes and a fallen deck beam were visible. But the way in was completely blocked by buckled bulkhead
and a continuous wall of incredible heat.
Gage yelled down into the darkness over the loud angry
hiss of steam coming from two ends of the violated pipe line near the top of the hole. "Dr. Morton!
Bron Reese! You guys okay down there?! Hey! Can anybody answer?!"
There was no reply.
Roy kept his gloves hovering over his face to protect it from wisps of shooting steam. "Maybe they
can't hear us over all the noise."
"Maybe Reese got him evacuated out into the maintenance lock."
Stanger countered.
"By himself?" DeSoto asked.
Cole shrugged. "Nothing like a little adrenaline
to get motivated."
"Lieutenant Commander, is there a phone down there in the medical bay itself?"
Roy asked.
"No, it's in the hallway. Under all of that." he gestured, pointing to the scalding
debris filling the sickbay stairwell.
"Where else can we try, sir? You know our time's critical
now." Gage asked, keeping a firm gaze of worry anchored onto the lieutenant's face.
"I've
got an idea." Stanger spun around in his tracks as full hazmat suited fire trained sailors began to
pour over to their location from every other port hatch of the ship. Cole grabbed DeSoto and Gage's
arms, dragging them out of the way so the crews could begin their assessment of the collapse above
sickbay. He ran to a ventilation stack, a monstrous horn shaped curve of apparatus that was across
the deck towards the outer railing of the ship. "There. An extrication crew can get through to at
least their outer hallway on the far side of the compromised stairwell. I used it for the last fire
drill we conducted a month ago. It's a tight fit in gear, but doable. You! Team Alpha!" he shouted
to a member of the suited fire team he knew to be the leader. "Use the stack! Remember?"
"I
do, sir." she replied through her air mask. She shouted fast orders to her bustling deck team. They
abandoned the blocked sickbay hatch and quickly disassembled the ventilation horn for the air shaft
it offered below decks. "Should you three be up here without a mask?" she said, waving a suited arm
in their direction. "The ship's mole reports our clicks are rising by the minute."
Stanger
nodded his head. "We're leaving. We were ordered to try sickbay ASAP. That civvie down below is a
friend of theirs."
"We'll get him out." she promised Roy and Johnny. "If we can't, we'll get one
or both of you in. Hang tight by a comm station, preferrably on the bridge, sirs." she warned Stanger.
Her rank now newly exceeded his for the duration of the sickbay emergency scene.
"We're gone."
Cole promised, recognizing her authority with a grin. "Let's go, boys. We'll bite our nails alongside
the captain."
Quickly ducking into air bottles that other sailor firemen offered to them, Stanger
and Squad 51's paramedics abandoned the main deck's wide expanse for the stairs leading up to the
bridge off in the distance.
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Ty Masterson had shuttered the glass around the elevated command deck and the room was bathed in a
bloody tinged red from emergency lighting. He was in a tight huddle with his braided crew, getting
reports rapid fire. "Armory's secure. No nuke heavy payload's been damaged. All torpedo tubes are
intact." "Cargo bay 3's interior ballast wall is torn and collapsed."
"How about the containment
room?" Masterson asked the acting engineer. "If those rods get exposed...."
The man was silent
for a moment. "The water level's falling, Captain. We don't know why."
"Did that cause the explosion
we suffered just now?" said the rugged ship's master.
"No, it's a direct result of it." said the
sailor with certainty. "We think it was lingering fuel fumes from the jet catching fire that did."
"Can we flood the jet's compartment? Snuff out the danger of further explosions?"
"That'll
tip us over, Cap." said Crewman Rick Connelly. "You know the ballast equations as well as I do. We're
pier side, but we've taken on water because of the jet crash. Only mooring chains are keeping us upright.
They will tear free and we'll roll to a thirty degree pitch before the sand bottom stops us if the
strain on them increases any more. Who knows what that'll do to the nuclear heart."
Masterson's
face flickered an array of powerful emotions and doubts. Then he spoke. "Launch all helicopters and
jets, emergency priority. Get them off our top deck. I'm declaring ship's status to full salvage mode
as of right now. No sense dumping perfectly good airplanes and birds into the sea if we can avoid
it."
"Are we abandoning ship, sir?" asked the second at the meeting table, as was his rightful
duty to ask.
"No." replied Ty, his heavy eyes watching the rescue efforts unfolding around
sickbay's vicinity on the top deck hundreds of yards away. "We've an atomic fire to put out, first,
mister. Our duty is to civilian lives. As it has always been. Return to your posts, gentlemen. Looks
like our long day is going to get even longer." he sighed.
Behind them, Private Miguel Garcia
piped the whistle to the ship's new sitcom status.
Only then did Stanger step up to his captain.
"Sir, the direct way is blocked down to sickbay."
"Are they still alive?" asked Masterson, reading
from copies of reports being placed in his hands from various damage control crewmen returning from
their emergency scouting runs throughout the ship.
"I'd say, yes." Gage spoke up. "It was only
a steam pipe that blew. And that's at the very top of the stairwell. A bulkhead's down, but it's very
localized."
Roy added more. "Your L.C. seems to think Medic Reese would evacuate sickbay as a
first choice."
"He would." said Ty evenly. "He's not a risk taker. He wouldn't endanger anybody
else's life knowingly. Cole, take our guests and be my eyes. Follow Team Alpha's progress and send
runners when they've reached our trapped men, but do not be involved. Observe only. Consider yourself
the onsite safety officer. You three are not the only ones wanting to know their current fate and
statuses. But I'll be damned if I'm going to risk any more casualties than we already have in the
sites. Suit yourselves up. Stanger, let me be absolutely clear. You'll be the last one out of there.
Whatever happens."
"Yes, sir." Cole saluted, in a way that made Roy's throat tighten in unbidden
emotion.
They left the bridge, chased by numerous nightmare scenarios spinning out of control,
inside their heads.
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******************************************** From: patti keiper (pattik1@hotmail.com) Sent: Sun
9/07/14 5:28 PM Subject: Beach Bound...
Captain Stanley was chafing at the bit. Everyone ashore
had heard the loud blast coming from the bowels of the ship. ::And only they know what's happened.::
he thought with angry worry. "Marco, Kelly, Stoker. Front and center." he ordered.
Soon, all
four were standing in front of him, their eyes equally glued to the sight of the newly listing naval
ship leaning away from the ravaged pier. They knew its hull was the only refuge that Gage and DeSoto
had available to them in the face of the rising tritium radiation level that was blooming out into
the atmosphere and into the surrounding seawater by leaps and bounds on their geiger counters. But
the ship did not appear to be sinking.
"I don't like it, Cap." Stoker said without preamble. "If
that wasn't a fuel line going up, it was a water pipe and both are critical to stabilizing the ship's
nuclear core." he hissed through his scba mask.
"I know, pal. But the chief says we're still
going to be kept from responding directly despite recent developments." Hank shared, holding up his
H.T.
"Why the hell--?!" Kelly sputtered. Cap cut him off sharply with a glare. "Chet.
Can it! That's why. We're too close to our men on the ship. If we go in there half cocked we'll either
end up maimed or dead for being emotionally distracted." Stanley told him. "It's a policy that's
as old as the department. It is binding especially on me. And I'm the one in charge."
Marco
was quiet, tense. "What can we do? We haven't been doing much as it is."
"That's why I called
you over. I've got an idea. We can't go to the ship but that doesn't mean we can't send somebody over
there from Staging in our stead."
Kelly snapped his fingers. "Fireboat 110."
"You're thinking
like a cap, Chet. Good man. And they're only 30 yards that way down the beach. You three go grab
a line and make like we're all busy anticipating future complications." Hank told him. "What a coincidence
that a fire hydrant is right next to their crew. Get them up to speed on the details and suggest
a few things. Go." Cap nodded, clearing his throat meaningfully.
Hank's firefighters ran,
snatching a token, uncharged hose from the back of the engine into their gloves to fool Battalion's
watchful eye from his vantage point on the cliff top above them.
A minute later, their hose
strung and connected to the hydrant, they returned. "The frogs are croaking." Chet promised, handing
Cap an H.T. radio that Station 110 had given him to provide a direct communications band scanner for
Hank to use.
Hank smiled fiercely. "How many divers are in the water?"
"Four. They said
they wanted to swim in a floating hose cannon to the ship anyway on a stand by. They're going to
look out for Roy and Johnny from the water."
"Hot d*mn!" Cap shouted, whirling to the sea with
a set of binoculars from his place standing on the engine's rear bumper. "Stoker, get a spot light
working. Light their way!"
From the ship, a bright yellow signal light began flashing in urgent
visual Morse to the shoreline. Mike Stoker noticed and grabbed up a signaler of his own to send any
necessary replies. "I got this." he promised Cap. "I'm fluent."
## .- .-.. .-.. / --- ..-.
..-. / ... .... .. .--. / -.-. --- -- -- ..- -. .. -.-. .- - .. --- -. ... / .- .-. . / -.. --- .--
-. .-.-.- / -... ..- .-. ... - / .-- .- - . .-. / -.-. --- --- .-.. .. -. --. / .--. .. .--. . .-.-.-
/ -. . .-- / -.. .- -- .- --. . / - --- / .--. --- .-. - / ... .. -.. . / -... --- .-- / .- -. -..
/ ... .. -.-. -.- -... .- -.-- .-.-.- / - .-- --- / - .-. .- .--. .--. . -.. / -... . .-.. --- .--
.-.-.- / -. --- / ..-. .. .-. . .-.-.- / ... - .- -. -.. / -... -.-- / ..-. --- .-. / -- --- .-.
. / .. -. - . .-.. .-.-.- ## ( All off ship communications are down. Burst water cooling pipe. New
damage to port side bow and sickbay. Two trapped below. No fire. Stand by for more intel.) said the
sailor manning his light in code.
Seconds later, heavy smoke and morning fog drifted in from
off shore and covered the ship in an inpenetrable blanket that obscured the signalling.
Chet
Kelly roared his frustration at the dawn sky, ripping up glovefuls of sand and throwing them as far
as he could over the water. The sound of his rage was muted by his air mask but not his demeanor.
That was evident to every firefighter within eyeshot.
Battalion's voice popped onto a loud speaker.
##It's clear up here. We can still see the messenger. He's climbing up into a crow's nest. Will relay.##
##So can we, 51.## promised a frogman through 110's H.T. in Cap's grip. ##The fog's full of holes
above us. Hang tight for the rest. Sharing as soon as we get it.##
Cap and the others began
to pace the sand in front of the trucks. On a thought, Stoker turned on all possible emergency red
lights on Engine and Squad 51 to offer encouragement to the frightened sailors on the ship. Then
he returned to aiming his spotlight just ahead of the swimming rescue team to show them the fastest
way to the ship.
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*************************************************** From: patti keiper (pattik1@hotmail.com) Sent:
Sun 9/07/14 10:22 PM Subject: Hot Water...
Cole Stanger, Roy DeSoto, and Johnny Gage had retreated
back to the bridge with the onset of the sea fog. It was an element of danger they had not considered,
and soon they were discussing the option of using lifelines as guides in the murk so they could turn
back and follow their path from any search pattern they started at will without getting lost on the
massive expanse of the main ship's deck in the thick fog.
Ty had already ordered folsum spots
to illuminate the bridge tower for use as a firm visual reference point beacon for the fire team working
below.
In a place where the fog thinned, the second in command of firefighter team Alpha toggled
his talk button through his hazmat suit. ##Alpha Team 2 to the Bridge. Respond!##
Captain
Ty Masterson replied back on the emergency band transmitting. "Alpha 2. Go."
##Sir, something's
changed with the reactor. We're reading heat with no smoke or flames evident, and we have rising rads
showing up on the deck of the ship..##
"From where?!" barked Masterson.
##Outside. Everywhere.##
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Rick Connelly, the information officer who was still struggling to reassert the television link they
had before with the Nuclear Board, gaped. "Oh, no, no, no. That's got to be a cooling fault, sir.
A very bad one. I've been hearing them tell me to watch out for that all night."
Ty nodded
tightly. "Alpha 2, understood. The nuke boys are saying that's broken cooling. Look for a way in
and find the breach. Don't get fried. This is your top priority over anything else. Last thing we
need is a melt down that we can't reverse. Split the team. You have my authority to do so. Dedicate
Alpha 1 to locating our personnel in sickbay. Have her stay in contact with me at every stage
of the operation."
## Yes, sir. I'll tell her in person.## replied the hazmat suited ship's fireman.
Ty turned to Rick Connelly. "I've already contacted the civvies on shore via flash. Your job now
is to see what they're doing for us visually. It's obvious that our video link has been lost."
"I'll circle the deck and glass the water." he promised. Connelly made tracks for a protection suit
and life preserver.
"Master of Communications!" yelled Masterson.
"Yes, sir!" replied Miguel
Garcia, saluting.
"Find me a portable radio that works!" Ty said, throwing his useless one onto
a navigation map. "This one won't cut through the dirty air."
"Five minutes. I've some hams charging
in reserve." The young sharp featured Hispanic man gulped and hurried out the door to ship's stores
with a firefighter on his heels to safeguard him from danger.
Roy and Johnny felt helpless where
they stood, out of the way. Then they heard Fireboat 110's sirens punch through to the bridge and
they buried their faces into the window glass, trying to see where they were in the waves. A nearby
navigator sailor gave Roy a set of binoculars to use.
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Far
below, on the main deck below the bridge, Alpha 1, a strong boned brunette Team Leader, gestured
for her masked team to begin to enter the zones where they had marked where steam was present. They
were still on their way along a second emergency route that led to sickbay that their C.O., Cole Stanger,
had pointed out to them soon after the pipes explosion had occurred.
"Lights!" she shouted, and
soon two beams flanked her own and cut through the hot vapor that they could feel even through their
thick, chemical proof fire gear. Her breath whistled painfully in her throat as they covered each
other with cold salt water hoses in fanning sprays as needed to keep cool as they advanced.
They
rounded the last turn in the corridor and located the hatch leading down to med storage, the compartment
adjacent to sickbay that was one bay away from the area of collapse and steaming ruptured pipes. They
forced the door open with a slam of solid metal and peered down below. "Bronson Reese! Mike Morton!
Rescue Team Alpha 1! Can you hear us?!" she shouted down the steps through the boiling wall of heat.
Soon, she had to turn away as scalding vapor from below billowed out. She scrambled out of the
way. "Pole scope. I want a 360 of the room ASAP!" she ordered her men. They hastily shoved the hand
held periscope probe down the stairs and into sickbay's main chamber. The man on the viewer's breath
hissed in his mask as he toggled the camera in a search, fighting the intense waves of heat rising
up through the hatchway. "Nothing at the 90. Turning... turning.. 180.... 270. Nobody on the floor.
360! Ah, they're not there, sir." he told Alpha 1. "Sickbay's empty. Just like the captain thought
it would be."
The lead female sailor angled her jaw. "They're still alive if they're not here.
All right. Next corridor over. Schematics say if we cut through the wall of the armory, we'll be
in the med supply. That's the only other place they could have gone." she told her team through her
air mask. "Let's go!"
They abandoned the scope pole and ran to the next ventilation stack
to begin dismantling it for the emergency stairwell beneath it. Once down, one by one, they thunked
to the wooden floor of the ship's corridor and hurried to the next floor hatch they needed. One man
pulled off his glove as they rushed over to it and landed on their knees in a rush to get hauling
on its wheel. He touched it. "It's cold. No steam!" he said excitedly.
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Connelly spotted something over the side of the ship on the port side, it was a frogman from Fire
Station 110. "Ahoy there!" he shouted down.
The diver shouted up to Rick up the great expanse
of the ship's hull. "Grab the rope! We've a radio for your captain! It's heavy shielded!"
From
the fireboat, a firefighter shot a rope gun thread trailing off the end of a small buoy that Connelly
and a member of Alpha 2 caught and began hauling up on board ship. It led to a net containing a bagged
H.T.
Rick no sooner had the plastic bagged radio turned on and to his ear when a sudden warning
crackled from the Fireboat Captain. ##Brace yourself! Rogue wave!##
A deafening wall of ocean
surf slammed onto and over the bow of the ship, flinging a fourteen foot high curl of froth spilling
onto the deck in a tremendous flooding wash. Connelly barely had time to use the fire department's
rope to tie himself and the ship's firefighter to the railing, when it hit.
Thousands of gallons
of water rushed by, sweeping them off their feet and snapping them to the ends of their tethers, underwater.
They began to drown, violently.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The wave passed as quickly as it had washed aboard. Connelly staggered to his feet, coughing."Let's
get out of here." he told the fireman sailor who offered him some air from his mask. "We have what
we came for." he hit the radio's talk button. "Fireboat 110. We're okay. Initiate a sweep for others!
There were twelve on deck a minute ago."
##10-4.## came the reply from out of sight, over the
railing.
"Bridge through the bow room." Rick said, letting the firefighter help him walk in his
sodden gear. "We'll be safer there."
They were half way through the space when Cole Stanger popped
out a hatch and met up with them on the run. "We saw that. Are you hurt?"
Both Connelly
and the firefighter shook their heads. The massive anchor chains at their feet groaned ominously
as the ship began to tip farther over a few more degrees to port.
"We're taking on that water.
Lord knows, but it may help us out a great deal." Cole grinned. Then he urged them over to his
side. "We had a report the Lookout was injured down here. Go to the bridge with that radio. I'll
find him on my own." Stanger ordered.
Soon Connelly and his firefighter escort disappeared back
through the safe hatch and into the safety of the ship's interior.
Cole soon found the Lookout.
The man had a head injury which Stanger began to attend. "Can you walk? A corpsman is on the way."
he said to the sailor.
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"I think I can. Man, what a wallop. Now I know why deep water's so fine." he quipped, groaning. "Wait
a minute, where's Sanchez?" he asked.
"Sanchez, the Anchorman?"
"Yeah, he was right here."
said the wounded man.
Cole turned around on his feet, eyeing up the whole forecastle chamber.
Then he spotted the broken porthole in front. "Oh, sh*t!" he remarked.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was Captain Masterson who spotted the sailor casting about on the water amid a cloud of debris
left over from the wave. "Man Overboard!" he shouted and immediately a klaxon sounded on the bridge.
"Muster a bird and a boat to one third port side from the bow. Forty feet out!"
"Is his face
up?" requested the Communications Officer, already on the horn to summon a rescue scramble.
"Yes.
He's on his back. And he's got his vest on, bless him blind!" Ty grinned. "All we have to do is go
get him."
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Soon, sailors ran to launch a helicopter with a winch basket. From the stern, a rescue raft with
a powerful outboard motor launched.
The bridge spotter reported from his position keeping an
eye on their victim through binoculars. "He's not moving, sir. Might be unconscious or--"
Ty's
face fell. "No firefighter suit. He's from below decks. Washed out through a porthole? Multi trauma
at the very least." the captain said quietly. "Won't be good if he survived that."
The bridge
crew watched gravely as the rescue happened, first a diver drop and then a physical hands on haul
up onto the skiff rescue raft. Ty watched his medical corpsman cluster around the limp sailor in
a tight ball. They did not look up.
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"D*mn." sighed Masterson. "A death, after we survived all of this craziness so far."
"I'm sorry,
sir." came Connelly's voice behind him. Ty turned and saw Rick, bedraggled, soggy, and still standing
in his dripping shoes. "This came too late." he said, holding out the plastic bagged fire department
radio from Station 110. "They were beneath the fog and saw the wave coming. They saved my life."
Ty took in a deep breath and forced strength back into his voice as he gently took the offering.
"I want a complete crew's head count in my ready room in two minutes. No one else is going to
die today. Mark my words." he grumbled.
His crew bustled into even swifter reaction around him.
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Commander Stanger met the raft on the ramp. He was not surprised that Roy DeSoto was at the head
of the tug of rope crew that helped the skiff gain topside on the splash deck.
DeSoto was about
to rush over with a med bag when the Hazmat suited helicopter crew waved him off from the limp sailor
they carried.
Startled, Roy saw that their victim was already garbed in a full covering suit
with gloves and a sealed helmet to contain radiation. He recognized a body recovery when he saw
it. It stopped him in his tracks.
The corpsman climbing out of the chopper said. "Hangman's fracture.
He was dead before he hit the water. Punching through the glass did it. Now he's too hot to handle
bare handed."
"What's he at?" DeSoto asked sadly.
"400 mSv. We're all headed for decontamination,
sir. Don't get too close."
Roy took many steps back evenly. "I'm sorry. Sirs, if you hurry, you'll
all be fine. You've only been a few minutes contaminated. It won't be fatal."
"Thank you for
trying." said the Corpsman. Then he was gone with the rest of his men.
Cole Stanger rejoined
Roy at his side. "Ah, the stupid risks we take. And we're not even at war."
"Aren't we?" DeSoto
asked. "Nature was our enemy today. I'm sorry we lost."
"Let's go win another battle." Cole smiled.
"It's not over yet."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alpha 1 toggled her suit radio that was tied to the captain's frequency. "Sir, route 3 is
green. We're going down. If those two civvies want in, they need to suit up to specs. But they're
going to have get in line." she said. "My people go in first with the med bags."
## Sending
Stanger with DeSoto and Gage in full ship's fire gear to your position. Keep working!## ordered Masterson.
Then he signed off to the fire team. He nodded at Miguel to keep monitoring their channel.
Captain
Ty turned to Roy and Johnny. "I promised you we'd get you to your man. Do you understand the risks
involved as you've seen and heard so far?" he asked formally.
"Yes, sir. We're firefighters.
We know steam burns hotter and far faster than fire." said Roy.
"And that any water may be
tritium contaminated in the areas where we're headed." added Gage.
"Okay. Considered yourselves
drafted into the Fire Corps along with Team Alpha 1. Follow their orders to the letter and listen
tight. This may be a metal ship but she still burns. Alpha 2 is seeking the extent of the pipe breach
and where it has to be repaired. We're losing serious water in the main reactor chamber. I don't
have to tell you gentlemen what will happen if we fail to keep water over those rods?" Masterson
said, lifting his head seriously.
"No, sir. You don't." said Gage. "We'll improvise a new cooling
system, using hoses and seawater siphons thrown over the side if we have to. Some fire technology's
still the same, for land or sea."
"Good man." said Masterson, stepping out of the way.
Johnny
and Roy hustled off the bridge with Cole Stanger rattling off advice and asking questioning on their
knowledge of firefighting procedures and what would be modified because of the tight confinement configuration
of the ship.
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Please Click Roy and Johnny to go to Page Four
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