by John O'Brien
Bringing the binoculars to his eyes, Leonard spots the long bridge connecting San Francisco and Oakland. It too has spans down. It looks like someone tried to isolate the Golden City from the rest. Leonard can only hazard a guess whether that was to fend off night runners coming into the city or to keep them from leaving. From all appearances, their endeavors failed as he can’t spot any movement or other indication of anyone surviving.
He hails on differing frequencies and has the fog horn blown several times, but nothing he tries elicits a response. Like Seattle, the city appears dead. He parks his boat for a couple of hours attempting all forms of communication and waiting for any reply while keeping a close eye on the fog bank behind him. As he well knows, that fog can sweep in quickly and he’s too close to the damaged bridge to make that a comfortable proposition.
After satisfying himself that he isn’t going to receive a response, Leonard directs the crew to turn the boat around and begin making headway to the south and San Diego. He’ll check Los Angeles on the way but feels that will be a moot foray as well. Looking at the receding city, he begins to think he won’t find anyone left in San Diego either.
As he descends, his comm officer approaches holding a piece of paper, “Sir, you’re going to want to take a look at this.”
* * * * * *
All eyes look toward the phone as its ring intrudes upon the meeting. One of the officers reaches over and picks up the receiver on the second ring. He listens a moment and hands the receiver toward Gav, “It’s for you, ma’am.”
She grasps the receiver thinking, What could possibly be wrong now?
“Yes,” she says into the handset.
“Nahmer, we’ve located the Santa Fe. You were right to keep a watch on approaches to San Francisco,” the control supervisor states.
“I’ll be right there,” she says and hangs up.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she says to the commanders leading the battalion under her supervision.
With anticipation, she leaves the meeting and marches down a wide hall. The plan to take out their command failed. With her shooter being taken captive, she can only assume that her group is known – if not now, then it’s only a matter of time. They took their shot – literally – in an attempt to assimilate the group with hers, but that idea now lies in ruins. She has no choice now save for eliminating the group identified as A-US-1 as a whole, or at least to a point where the remaining ones won’t be a threat. Gaining command of her emotions, she slows as she nears the control room. With a deep breath to calm and center herself, she swipes her card and enters.
The large central screen shows sunlight glimmering off a strait between two bodies of land. Just ahead of a large fog bank, a dark cylindrical object lies in the middle of the channel. Notations to the bottom right of the screen denote the satellite and that the video is coming to them in real time.
The supervisor looks up from where he is conversing with one of the operators and acknowledges her arrival before bending back down and pointing at the monitor. Finishing with his instructions, he hurries over to Gav.
“How long have they been there?” Gav asks.
“They just emerged from the fog bank,” the supervisor answers.
He speaks with one of the operators and the image on the large screen blurs. It then sharpens as it settles on a closer image. Gav can see three people on the conning tower. She watches as the sub creeps forward, drawing closer to the collapsed Golden Gate bridge.
Gazing at the sleek outline of the Santa Fe, she is amazed that so much firepower is contained in such a small vessel.
“Were we able to obtain their current loadout?” Gav asks, indicating the vessel on the screen.
“Unfortunately no. We weren’t able to affect a complete download of the DoD files, Nahmer. However, we can make some fairly accurate guesses based on their last mission to the Persian Gulf. Given their patrol location, it would seem likely that they had a full complement of twenty-five Tomahawk cruise missiles. Out best guess is a mix of the D version with submunitions and the block IV version of the C variant.”
Gav nods at the information given as she continues to watch the sub on the screen slowly maneuver and come to a halt. For nearly thirty minutes, all eyes watch the Santa Fe as it maintains a position near the broken bridge.
“What do you think they are doing for so long?” the supervisor asks.
“Looking for survivors,” Gav says as if there isn’t any other answer.
“Do you think they know about the infected?”
“I would have to assume so. I seriously doubt the group from Camp One would have withheld something like that,” Gav replies.
“What would you like to do, Nahmer?”
Taking her eyes off the screen, she begins writing quickly. Handing the paper to the supervisor, she says, “Format this appropriately and send it when they depart. Contact me the moment they head out.”
“Yes, Nahmer. What makes you think they’ll leave?”
“They don’t have a choice. No sub captain is going to risk his boat heading across that wreckage,” Gav says, rising to depart. “And, unless I miss my guess, they’re heading to San Diego.”
* * * * * *
Settled within the confines of the communications room, Leonard stares at the message in his hand. Studying the printed words for the fourth time, he still can’t believe what he is reading.
Turning to his communications officer, he asks, “Are you sure the codes are correct?”
“They’re old ones but they check out,” the officer answers.
“Have you sent a receipt verification?” Leonard asks.
“Not at this time, sir.”
“Okay. Send a verification that we’ve received the message. Make sure our return message indicates we are verifying receipt and not validating the contents. I need to think this one over before we proceed farther. And let’s keep this between us for the moment. We’ll brief the officers later,” Leonard states.
“Aye, sir,” the communications officer replies, starting to format the reply.
Leonard looks through the message once again. In and of itself, it doesn’t say much. It is merely a message stating that the Unites States government has begun to rebuild and that a chain of command has been instituted. It goes on to say that a safe zone has been created, but the reestablishment of the government has taken time due to various factors. Satellite control has been established and all units are to report in and wait for further instructions. The message itself seems legitimate, but Leonard isn’t entirely convinced of its authenticity considering the old codes. Someone could have found and hacked the old system and be trying to bring units still remaining under their control. He will hold off on a final consideration until he has met with his officers.
Making their way past the floating ghost ships, the sub readies to submerge when Leonard is handed another message. This one is in the same format as the others with the exception that this one is a mission order as opposed to a general bulletin. Leonard notes it is addressed specifically to them rather than a general broadcast.
“Was this sent with the same set of codes?” Leonard asks the officer.
“Aye, sir.”
Leonard rises and walks to the nav station with the message in hand. Tracing the location given, he receives his second shock of the day. Looking from the message to the map to verify the coordinates, he stares at the map with grim concentration.
The officer, looking over his shoulder, asks, “Would you like for us to send an acknowledgement of receipt?”
“What do you say we hold off on that for now. Gather the officers and let’s meet in the officer’s mess,” Leonard answers.
Clearing the approaches to San Francisco, the Santa Fe slinks quietly below the surface. Once assured that they are again on the southbound course and hidden from sight below the Pacific swell, Leonard makes his way to where his officers patiently wait.
Sitting in the enclosed space, he glances around the r
oom. All eyes return his gaze and he can see the tension in them. He has both messages gripped tightly between his fingers. For one of the first times in command, he isn’t honestly sure what to do. The boundaries and guidelines he spent his career with aren’t valid any longer. Or at least he assumed so until receiving the first message. He has maintained that the United States is still an operating entity as long as there was a command in place to do so. And that command, to the best of his knowledge so far, rested with him and his crew. And now this. Another entity stating they have restored the government and are proceeding with rebuilding the country. He is relieved, believing deep down that this had to be the case, but that relief is tinged with skepticism.
The code itself gives rise to suspicion. It’s a valid code, but an old one. That in and of itself isn’t enough to deny the validity of the message. From what he’s seen, Leonard doesn’t see how there could be any remnant of government left, but it could have been holed up and needed time to consolidate – having to rely on old data stored on backups. It’s the second message that triggers the biggest doubt. The order to launch a Tomahawk strike against Captain Walker’s compound just doesn’t make any sense. If anything, that group would be included in an attempt to gather resources and rebuild. The order just seems downright contradictory.
“Okay, gentlemen, it’s time to bring you up to speed. Today we received…” Leonard begins and informs them of the messages, reading them verbatim.
He notes more than one raised eyebrow when he informs them of the coordinate location given in the second message. He isn’t surprised by the blank stares as each officer takes the information in and folds into their thoughts. The room is silent.
“Well that just doesn’t make any sense,” the XO states, finally breaking the silence.
“I should also tell you that we haven’t acknowledged receipt of the second message,” Leonard says.
“I take it, sir, judging from our continued southern course, that we aren’t going to accept the mission and initiate action,” the XO comments.
“I have concerns regarding the legitimacy of the orders but want to get the opinion of everyone here,” Leonard responds.
Most of the officers give their concurrence with their captain’s concern, either nodding or vocalizing their thoughts.
“Can we message back asking for verification?” one of the officers asks.
“It’s my thought, that if we decide as a group to disregard the orders, we will act as if we didn’t receive the message and continue with our current mission. In my opinion, given what we’ve seen so far, we owe it to the crew to see about their families. If we don’t, we may have to deal with…other difficulties in the near future,” Leonard says.
A silent pause follows Leonard’s words.
“I think this needs to be said, and it doesn’t indicate my position on the matter, but if we decide to ignore the order and it turns out to be a legitimate one, we are, in effect, conducting a mutiny or, at the very least, disobeying a direct order,” the XO states.
“That’s an important point. Thank you, XO,” Leonard says.
The officers glance around the room at each other, trying to gauge the other’s reactions.
“It’s important that each and every one of us votes according to their own thoughts and beliefs. Don’t fold in with the rest if you believe otherwise deep down. Because of its importance and possible ramifications, this matter is open for free discussion,” Leonard says, looking at each officer.
More glances around the room but no one says anything.
“Okay, gentlemen, let’s take it around the table and vote. Aye for disregarding the message and continuing on to San Diego and nay for accepting the orders and proceeding north.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“I would like to see the message validated but understand the reason why we can’t. Aye,” the engineering officer states.
“Captain, what if the messages prove valid?” the XO asks.
“Then we’ll apologize,” Leonard answers.
“What will we do once we reach San Diego…with regards to the messages?”
“If we decide to proceed in that direction, we’ll have to base that on what we see,” Leonard replies.
“We’ve never disregarded an order before. This could cause some concern with the crew. They may see the reinstituted government as their best chance to see their families again,” the XO continues.
“I realize that. Do you believe the messages to be valid ones?”
“No. I think they’re bullshit, but I have to bring up how the others may see it and how we’re going to deal with it.”
“Agreed. And I’ll be briefing the crew on our decision regardless of what that happens to be,” Leonard says.
“Well, sir, you know how I feel. Aye.”
The vote continues around the room resulting in a unanimous ‘aye’ vote.
“Okay, gentlemen. We’ll continue to San Diego. I still want to check out the LA basin area, but we’ll remain submerged unless there is an absolute positive indication that survivors exist onshore. And we’ll maintain radio silence. No further morning and evening calls on the sat phones or messages directed inland. I’ll make a general announcement when we’re finished here. Is there anything else we need to talk about?”
“Repairs, sir. We could use some time. I realize we may not be able to use the dry dock, but we will need parts,” the engineering officer states.
“And resupply,” the XO says. “We are doing okay at the moment, but we’ll need to take on supplies…mainly food stores.”
Several faces pale at the thought of going ashore and perhaps needing to enter into a supply facility again. The memory surfaces of those they lost – and how they lost them – at Bangor.
“How far can we go if we can’t get ashore for whatever reason?” Leonard asks the engineering officer.
He’s met with a shrug. “It depends, sir. We could break down in a day or go for months. It’s hard to say. At a minimum, I suggest we replace our scrub filters.”
“And the food?” Leonard asks the XO.
“We have a few weeks if we ration. We can send Chief Krandle ashore and find some stores that don’t put them at too great a risk. That would stretch our supplies some,” the XO answers.
“Okay. Make a provision list and we’ll see what we can do once we arrive. I’ll speak with Chief Krandle. Right now, let’s check on the LA basin and proceed to San Diego. Let’s begin rationing, but without the crew having to go hungry. I don’t think we’re at that point yet and there’s no use putting them in any greater discomfort than they already are. This news is going to put a measure of stress on them, however, I think our decision to check on our home port and families will be seen by most to be the correct one.”
“Sir, if I may?” an officer utters.
“Go ahead.”
“What about those with families elsewhere? I mean, they’ll want us to check on their families. As the XO mentioned, some will see these orders as a way to check on their loved ones farther inland. What I’m saying is that we need to give them something as to what we’re thinking in this regard.”
Several officers nod their heads at the logic. It’s a question Leonard has thought about more than a few times. It’s the one thing that could break the crew apart…or it could unite them together – their new mission to search for loved ones. Of course, they are restricted as to where they could search. Thoughts of Captain Walker’s group and their capabilities surface regularly. Deep down, Leonard knew there would be a time when the two joined together, but now this message has the potential to change that.
“Meet with your departments and gather a list of where their families are located. For the moment, let them know we will look into the feasibility following our arrival at home. Inform them of our limitations to check beyond the coastal areas, but that we’ll look into ways to search farther inland. Make sure that each knows that this is something we are only look
ing into, but that we can’t make any promises,” Leonard says.
No other issues are brought forth so Leonard adjourns their meeting. With a nod, each officer rises and departs. Leonard then makes a general announcement giving a synopsis of messages and detailing their plans.
Although anxious to get to their homeport, Leonard takes his time maneuvering the Santa Fe down the coast from San Francisco to Los Angeles. The coastline is more populous than that of the Oregon and Northern California shores. They explore Monterey Bay and the various inlets without finding any sign of surviving remnants of humankind. Leonard expected further communications; reissuing the orders and asking for confirmation of receipt, but the comm center remains silent since receiving their last message. The lack of communications only increases Leonard’s uneasiness about the validity of the message and, although still nervous about ignoring the order, he feels better about the decision he and his officers made.
The distance between the two big cities isn’t far but, with the slow speed Leonard dictated and taking time to investigate, it takes two days before they reach the Channel Islands to the northwest of the Los Angeles area. His plan is to swing wide of the Channel Islands and approach Long Beach directly from the west.
“Captain to the comm room,” the loudspeaker blares.
And there’s the message asking for confirmation, Leonard thinks, rising from his chair. I wondered when that was going to come in.
The Santa Fe picked up speed to circumvent the islands and is approximately midway across the Santa Barbara Basin when Leonard pokes his head in the small room.
“What is it, chief?”
“Sir, I’m picking up a very faint signal coming in on UHF guard. I believe I heard our name a couple of times, but it’s hard to identify clearly. Whoever is transmitting is either pretty far away or the signal is weak on their end.”
“Our end is good?” Leonard asks.
“Aye, sir. I’ve checked our equipment and it’s good.”
