Axis of Evil: Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction (The Lone Star Series Book 1)

by Bobby Akart

  “Are they armed?” asked Abbey.

  “The helmsman thought he saw RPGs on each of the boats, sir.”

  “I did, sir,” interjected the helmsman. “I also saw a laser pass across our bow.”

  Abbey turned to the other members of the crew on the bridge. “Anyone else? Did anyone else see a targeting laser?”

  The crew shook their heads, leaving only the helmsman to have identified a potential weapons threat.

  “Sir,” the helmsman insisted, “I know what I saw.”

  “Understood, Helmsman, carry on.” Abbey turned to glance at Duncan, who shrugged slightly.

  The speakers on the bridge hissed to life. “Captain, this is the TAO.” The tactical action officer was responsible for weapons release, sensors, and overall defense of the ship. His crew was on the ready in the event of an imminent attack.

  Abbey pressed the comms button and responded, “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

  “We’ve got two sledgehammers rapidly approaching. Have you got them on the MMS? Shall we engage, sir?”

  Sledgehammers was NAVSpeak for rapidly approaching, armed suicide boats.

  The OOD immediately brought up video images of the approaching boats. Although the live stream was black-and-white, the picture contrast was excellent. Duncan could count the heads in each boat and clearly see that one man in each vessel was holding a tubelike device on his shoulder.

  “There!” shouted the helmsman as others on the bridge saw the images. He rose from his seat slightly and pointed at the monitors. “Right there, sir. One RPG visible per boat. Sledgehammers.”

  “They’re almost in range for most RPG variants, sir. Shall we engage?” asked an excited Lieutenant Doherty, who continued to maintain his duties as OOD despite the captain being on the bridge.

  “Negative. Give me a still shot of the interior of the boat.”

  As Abbey issued his instructions, the cigarette boats made an abrupt turn and sped off in opposite directions.

  “They’re turning again, just like before,” announced a member of the crew from the starboard side of the bridge. “Last time, they made a wide arc, bouncing across the water, and then moved side by side for another run.”

  “At what distance did they make their turn?” asked Abbey.

  “Roughly five hundred yards, sir,” responded Lieutenant Doherty.

  Duncan knew what Abbey was thinking. Washington had always made the mistake of publicly announcing its rules of engagement to the entire world. Their enemies knew how to push their buttons. The Iranians were notorious for attempting to create a situation in which a Navy captain fired upon a so-called defenseless vessel with the hope of creating an international incident.

  He leaned into Abbey’s ear and asked, “What’s your ROE?”

  Abbey nodded as he responded, “Five hundred yards.”

  “They’re trying you,” said Duncan.

  Abbey nodded and then asked the TAO to provide still images of each of the attack boats at five hundred yards.

  “Back in formation,” announced the helmsman. “Two thousand yards and closing at a high rate of speed. Sixty-five knots. Seventy knots. Seventy-five knots. They’re near their max, sir.”

  The monitors changed, and still images appeared on the screen. Abbey walked closer to get a better look.

  “Could be RPG-7s,” he mumbled.

  “Fifteen hundred yards, sir.”

  Another image appeared on the screen, which was generated by the TAO. He had magnified the image to show a grainy detail of one of the boats’ occupants. He was holding onto the windshield, his clothing being whipped by the wind. A cylindrical object was resting on his right shoulder.

  Abbey pressed the comms button and said, “Got it, Lieutenant.”

  The screens all changed to live feeds again as the helmsman announced, “One thousand yards.”

  The TAO’s voice returned to the speaker system. “Sir, we believe that to be a missile launcher. At one thousand yards, they are well in range. Those boats are depicting classic sledgehammer attack profiles. If we let them get to the ROE line, our defensive measures won’t be effective. Sir, we’ve got to take them out before they get a shot off at us.”

  Duncan studied the situation from an outsider’s perspective. Something didn’t feel right. If the cigarette boats were in fact attacking the Lucas, why were they waiting? Why would they telegraph their intentions when it meant possible failure and their certain death?

  Abbey continued to hesitate and assess.

  “Seven hundred yards, sir!” announced the helmsman.

  Abbey watched the boats through the binoculars even though the monitors provided a very clear live stream of their approach.

  “Six hundred yards, sir!”

  The TAO was shouting through the comms. “Sledgehammers are inbound. Say again, attack imminent. Request permission to engage, sir!”

  A flicker of red light bounced through the windows onto the bridge. They were being targeted.

  Duncan wasn’t in charge of the USS Lucas, but a chill ran down his spine nonetheless. It had nothing to do with the sweaty tee shirt he was wearing and the cold air being pumped into the bridge. It was anxiety, excitement, the feeling every soldier experiences when a split-second decision was upon them. Abbey faced a no-win situation. There was not a good choice. Both action and inaction would most likely lead to an international incident.

  Abbey gripped the rail next to the OOD and began to give the order when, suddenly, one of the boats swerved to avoid debris in the water. The passenger lost his balance and fell to the deck, allowing the cylindrical object on his shoulder to fall against his seat. Duncan instinctively moved forward toward the screen to get a better look.

  “That’s a PVC drainpipe,” said Duncan.

  “Stand down! Stand down!” shouted Abbey.

  “They’re turning, Captain,” announced the TAO.

  Unlike their previously orchestrated maneuvers, the two fast boats peeled off and scattered in different directions, quickly becoming specks on the Gulf of Oman.

  “They’re aborting, sir,” the OOD announced excitedly. The young lieutenant appeared pale as beads of sweat covered his forehead.

  Abbey followed the attackers with his binoculars and then nodded to himself, an imperceptible pat on the back for a job well done. He turned to the OOD. “Stand us down from general quarters. Take the conn, John.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The OOD issued his orders, and Abbey turned to Duncan, who was smiling in awe of his friend’s steely nerves.

  “How about a beer, Captain? I think you’ve earned it.”

  “Can’t disagree with that. Another lesson learned, right?”

  Duncan opened the door for Abbey and said, “There can be no regrets in life, just lessons learned.”

  “Roger that.”

  Chapter 6

  October 31

  The Oval Office

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  The Oval Office had been the sanctuary of seventeen U.S. presidents since it was constructed in 1909. The current occupant had dreamed of becoming the first female president of the United States, but she certainly didn’t expect it to happen under unusual circumstances.

  President Alani Harman had assumed the office after the unexpected death of the newly elected president just a year prior. At seventy-eight, President Joe Billings had been the oldest person elected to the presidency. During the campaign, his age was an issue, although his opponent was also in his mid-seventies.

  Health-wise, President Billings had been given high marks although it was later revealed that he’d had a history of heart palpitations, which had not been disclosed during the election campaign. His sudden heart attack stunned the nation but quietly pleased many activists, as President Harman was the first female president as well as the first occupant of the Oval Office of Jamaican and Indian descent.

  When she entered the Oval Office for the first time, she knew it was by
fate although she’d hoped to earn her spot behind the executive desk on her own. Her entire life—from the early years as an activist in Berkeley, California, through the period in Canada after her parents divorced—had steered her in the direction of the Oval Office.

  After law school, she took a position as a deputy district attorney and advanced through the ranks until she became the San Francisco district attorney. Her sudden thrust into the limelight caught the attention of many Californians, who encouraged her to run for the United States Senate, which she’d won handily in 2016.

  Her charisma and political positions were a perfect fit for President Billings, and she was tapped as the vice-presidential choice after only three years in the Senate. Now she was president and facing multiple international crises, which she had little experience in handling.

  The late President Billings, known as a consensus builder, had stocked his cabinet with loyalists, many of whom were moderates, and a few from the opposite side of the aisle. In the media, this was hailed as a positive approach for the country, which had been through decades of political rancor and open hostilities toward one another.

  The cabinet choices didn’t necessarily mesh with President Harman’s political views, but she was happy to be a part of the administration and immediately set her sights upon a likely run of her own in 2024.

  Her ascension to the presidency was welcomed by many, except some within the cabinet, especially on the defense and homeland security side. Her predecessor, whose sons served in the military, was strong on national defense and placed war hawks in position of authority in the Defense Department and the Department of Homeland Security.

  President Harman frequently clashed with these members of her cabinet, but she elected to stay the course due to her perceived inexperience in matters of national affairs. Besides, as she frequently told her chief of staff, I can always push back against the warmongers and say no.

  Her chief of staff entered the room and greeted her with a Microsoft tablet containing the day’s agenda. After some small talk, President Harman got down to business.

  “Charles, before we attend the cabinet meeting, let’s talk about this bill that passed the Senate regarding the power grid.”

  Her chief of staff, Charles Acton, was a long-time congressman and ally of President Billings. After the former president’s death, Acton immediately offered his advice and counsel on matters in Congress. President Harman saw the advantage a seasoned veteran of Capitol Hill would provide her and asked him to come on board as chief of staff. He readily accepted the offer and the two made a good fit.

  “Well, Madame President, the bill that was passed in the House has now cleared any Senate committee hurdles. I expect a floor vote before Thanksgiving but after the midterm elections on November eighth.”

  “Did the Senate materially alter the House bill?” she asked.

  “No, not really, other than the name.”

  “They changed the name?”

  “Yes, very petty if you ask me. The house version was called the Enhancing State Energy Security Planning and Emergency Preparedness Act of 2022.”

  President Harman laughed. “Good grief, that’s a mouthful.”

  “Yes, Madame President. The Senate agreed and changed the name to the Protect Our Power Act of 2022. POP, for short.”

  “Congress always has to put their mark on things, but the name is better,” added the president.

  “Much better. There were some grumblings and hurt feelings in the House, but they were pleased to see the bill clear committee without alterations.”

  “I read in the Washington Post this bill is rare in that it is truly single subject. Is that correct?” asked President Harman.

  “It is. As you know, the prior administration pushed Congress to adopt the single-subject rule on federal legislation, which limits the content of bills introduced in Congress to a single issue. Like a lot of the prior president’s suggestions, the proposals fell on deaf ears in the chambers of Capitol Hill.”

  “Indeed. They paid a hefty price in the election two years ago, which is why you and I are sitting in the Oval.”

  President Harman checked her watch and went to her desk to retrieve a bottle of water.

  “The problem with the bill is that it isn’t revenue neutral. The Congressional Budget Office released its analysis, which reveals it blows a hole in the deficit. The House aims to pay for the required upgrades to our infrastructure by cutting several domestic programs, which would be a blow to our constituency. They’re trying to keep their plans under wraps until after the upcoming midterms.”

  “Should we get it in the media?” she asked.

  “Our team is working on options,” replied Chief of Staff Acton. “After it passes, we’ll consider a veto based upon the deficit issue.”

  President Harman raised her wrist for Acton to see the time. She was anxious to address her cabinet and dress down a certain retired general who’d been a pain in her ass from the day he joined the new administration’s transition team.

  “I’ll say this. I think part of this whole thing might be a little overblown. As it relates to a solar flare, or whatever, I’m told we’d have at least 36 Hours to warn the public. I have confidence in our emergency responders to do what’s necessary. I’m certainly not willing to add to the deficit. Also, there’s no way I’m gonna take food out of the mouths of single mothers and their babies for this.”

  Acton stood and gathered his notes as the two made their way to the Roosevelt Room. “Well, worst case is we force them to retool the bill and punt it to the new Congress. We will have some new faces to help see it our way.”

  “I agree,” she added. “We need to focus on the threats that are real, like North Korea’s nuclear proliferation. I’m tired of a bull’s-eye being on the backs of my friends in California.”

  Chapter 7

  October 31

  The Roosevelt Room

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  Defense Secretary Montgomery Gregg was the first to arrive at the cabinet meeting that morning along with his closest aide-de-camp, former Assistant Secretary of Defense Jackson Waller. The two men had served together at Fort Hood in Texas and were trusted allies. Secretary Gregg never met with the president or her chief of staff without Waller being present. He was a strong believer in accountability, and he’d learned in the world of politics that every conversation required a witness.

  Secretary Gregg did not consider himself a political animal like the others who inhabited the Washington swamp. He was born a soldier. The son of a military family stationed at Fort Hood, the largest military installation in the world encompassing more than two hundred fifteen thousand acres, Secretary Gregg was destined to be one of the nation’s great military leaders.

  Every aspect of his childhood, from his education at military-based schools through his daily life, which involved basic-training activities, led him to his dream position within the United States Army—commanding general, III Corps and over Fort Hood. Commissioned as an armor officer following graduation from Texas A & M, he rose up the ranks and commanded troops at Armored Divisions based in Germany, Fort Riley, and ultimately, III Corps at Fort Hood.

  He first met now-deceased President Billings during his testimony following the deadly Fort Hood shooting in 2009 by a U.S. Army major and psychiatrist turned terrorist, resulting in the death of thirteen people on base. Under questioning by then-Senator Billings, Secretary Gregg refused to waver on his opinion that the shooter was a terrorist, despite the White House’s insistence the incident be labeled workplace violence.

  When President Billings took office, he didn’t hesitate in tapping Lieutenant General Montgomery Gregg to be his Secretary of Defense. The nomination and approval process was not an easy one. In order to serve in the cabinet, General Gregg was required to resign his post at Fort Hood, retire from the military, and gain a waiver from Congress of the five-year hiatus rule prohibiting former military personnel
from taking a cabinet-level position like Secretary of Defense.

  During the transition, many in President Billings’s party, including then-Vice President Harman, publicly grumbled about the choice and the manipulation of the process. This did not go unnoticed by General Gregg, and despite the fact his nomination was approved, he refused to let bygones be bygones, as they say. Instead, he began to compile a political enemies list.

  In the first two years of the Billings-Harman administration, Secretary Gregg became a rising star in Washington. His straight talk about the threats the nation faced and the matter-of-fact solutions he proposed might have been at odds with the administration’s official position, but they were wildly popular across the heartland and with like-minded people in government.

  After the death of President Billings, Secretary Gregg’s name was bantered about as a VP choice for newly sworn President Harman. The suggestions came from more than a positive endorsement of Secretary Gregg’s capabilities. The media roundly criticized President Harman’s lack of foreign policy experience and dovish approach to the nation’s defense. Many suggested her presidency would be doomed to failure without someone of Secretary Gregg’s mettle at her side.

  None of this sat well with loyalists to the president, and it most certainly doomed Secretary Gregg’s opportunity to advance to the VP slot. What it did, however, was further entrench the former general’s feet into the concrete of Washington. He was now considered by all to be indispensable, which made him a powerful player within the deep state.

  Today, Secretary Gregg wore a suit to do battle with the President of the United States, but he could feel the Distinguished Service Medal, the Legion of Merit bronze oak leaf clusters, and the Bronze Star on his chest as if they were on full display.

  As the other cabinet members arrived and the press got their photo ops, Secretary Gregg sat aloof at the end of the table. The seating arrangements for cabinet meetings were designated by the chief of staff, and Secretary Gregg was certain he had been positioned as far away from the president as possible for a reason. Not that it mattered. His booming voice from years of addressing soldiers commanded attention in any room, including this one.