She was supposed to have augmented Seaview as a smaller, more manuverable sub, but now was but a memory. Greed killed her. Sabotage. An untimly death. A brutal death.  We'd heard her death throes from the radio as the men succumbed to the fear inducing gas erupting in mass chaos and leaving their stations, the boat imploding as she fell below crush depth.

 

We had our own experience with the volitile gas, planted aboard Seaview as we investigated and as the gas permeated Seaview, even Lee chewed me out, wanting to abort the mission, saying there was no proof Polidor was deliberately sunk, blaming me for the deaths of 85 men  and that I was willing to die rather than admit I made a mistake but that he wasn't and neither were the men on his ship.  I almost fired him on the spot. In fact, I threatened him with it. The thing is, I doubt anyone aboard would have let me.

 

And Lee being Lee, well, he continued with the mission, humoring me I suppose, or had a shred of belief in me that there had to be another reason than the congressional committee's opinion that mankind couldn't work at such depths.

 

Now, of course, as we had finalized preparations for Polidor's memorial, we knew the truth.  Lee came to see me in my office. Sat on the edge of my desk and toyed with the pen and pencil set. Finally, he looked at me and apologised for letting himself get carried away.

 

Wasn't his fault, as I'd told him before, affected by the gas like everyone else, but I knew I'd have to convince him somehow. I don't remember now what I said. I'm not sure even now if he's really forgiven himself for his harsh words.