by John O'Brien
“How often are they transmitting?”
“That’s hard to say, sir. I’ve only picked up a couple of the transmissions and this last one is the clearest I’ve heard. However, it seems to be about every five minutes. Would you like for me to respond?”
“Let’s wait for the next one. If it’s getting clearer, then they are moving and getting closer. I doubt our speed makes much difference in five minutes. Put it on speaker but keep the volume low, please,” Leonard says.
A few minutes pass before the speaker crackles to life. “Santa F…alker on…guard…”
The message repeats but with the same clarity. However, it is enough to hear the sub mentioned and the chief verifies they are receiving the signal on UHF guard.
The basin over which they are sailing is relatively shallow and it will be another thirty minutes before they reach the deeper water on the other side of the islands. Although he has an idea who it may be considering the frequency used, he isn’t comfortable about coming into contact with an unknown entity without the safety of deep water below him. The thought of turning west and going to flank speed crosses his mind. However, they may miss contact should they do that.
With a sigh, Leonard calls his XO in the control room. “Slow to ten knots and be ready to take her to the bottom.”
Several minutes pass without the message being repeated. The five minute intervals they were coming through at passes. Nothing is in view visually and he orders the radar turned on with the crew ready to shut it down and conduct an emergency dive.
Radar reports back that they have negative contact. Tension mounts in the boat. They may have firepower and the ability to hide, but if they’re found, they become very vulnerable. Leonard is aware that they are very vulnerable this close to the surface with an unknown entity closing in. With the clear waters, it will be easy to identify the dark sub just beneath the waves. And if there is any magnetic anomaly gear being used, well, they might as well light up blinking neon signs.
The speaker crackles to life once again. “Santa Fe, this is Captain Walker on UHF Guard. Santa Fe, Captain Walker calling on UHF Guard. How do you copy? Over.”
Well, this is going to be downright interesting, Leonard thinks, reaching for the mic.
“Captain Walker, this is the Santa Fe. Read you loud and clear. This is not a secure channel. Over,” Leonard says.
“Copy that, standby,” Walker states.
“Santa Fe, it’s imperative that we have a conversation. Understand the unsecure channel. There’s an airfield next to a beach,” Walker says moments later, giving coordinates. “Can you meet us on the beach?”
This time it’s Leonard who has Walker standby while he walks to the nav station to look at the given coordinates. He feels like a flag tied to the rope in a tug-of-war; both teams wanting to pull the flag to their side. He calls the XO over and relates the radio call.
“What do you think, sir?” the XO asks.
“Well, frankly, I don’t like being in the middle of some game. We may not have hit it off right away, and this Walker did come across as being a little arrogant, but he didn’t seem like a bad guy. I find myself interested in what he has to say…but not at a risk to ourselves,” Leonard answers.
“Park the boat offshore and let Chief Krandle handle the discussion. He can relay the conversation,” the XO states.
“That will still be over the open airwaves. I’ll go in with the chief and his team. You’ll remain in charge and take the boat out deep if anything untoward occurs. If anything happens, continue the mission to home port.”
“Are you sure that your going in is a good idea? You’re needed here. I’ll go in your stead,” the XO says.
“I feel that there are some hard decisions that may arise and I need to be there to make them. Besides, how can I miss a chance to ride ashore with a SEAL team?” Leonard says with a smile.
“And that’s the real reason I wanted to go. It’s getting a little cramped in here.”
“I hear that, XO. Call the chief up and point us to the beach. Let’s not waste any time getting there.”
“Aye, sir,” the XO says.
Back in the comm center, Leonard takes the mic. “Captain Walker, this is the Santa Fe. We’ll be there in two hours.”
“Copy two hours. See you there.”
Leonard briefs Chief Krandle when he arrives, informing him of the radio contact and mission.
Two hours later, Leonard finds himself riding through choppy swells. The team around him is lying low over the gunwales as the rubber craft bounces across the wind-driven waves. He feels like he’s in the back end of a pickup traveling over a washboard road. They negotiate around several stands of rocks which absorb the inbound waves with surf splashing against their wet surfaces. The beach-lined cove which they’ve entered curves to their left and stretches away into the distance to the right.
As the breakers pass underneath, they lift the craft from the stern and toss it about. Leonard, while enjoying any time spent on or below the water, begins to regret taking this trip. The waves propel the team onward, and soon, the raft kisses the sand. As Chief Krandle and his team deploy to the sides, Leonard notes the top of a Stryker poking above a small rise across the beach. Near an adjacent parking lot, several figures are crouched in a small perimeter similar to the one the chief and his team have. One of the figures rises and separates from the rest, heading across the sand toward him. Leonard begins walking and they meet in the middle.
“Captain,” Captain Walker says, extending his hand.
“Walker,” Leonard replies, replying in kind.
“Sorry to stall your journey, but we’ve come across some information that you should be aware of,” Walker begins.
He then tells a story of being targeted by a sniper and their subsequent discovery of information relating to a group that may be responsible for the downfall of civilization. The tale goes into some detail with Walker handing him several pages with their findings on them. As the account goes on, Leonard feels a cold chill ride up his spine.
“We don’t have a hard tie-in that it’s the group who sent the shooter, but there’s enough to convince me that they are involved. It’s become obvious that we’re being targeted by a group with advanced capabilities, and I’m sure they’re the ones who are interfering with our communications,” Walker says, drawing his narrative to a close.
Leonard pauses, considering Walker’s story and his own recent experiences. He’s not sure what or how much to tell Walker and once again feels caught in the middle of two groups vying for his control. Every side has its story and, to each party, their reasons seem right. He didn’t hear anything that would cause Walker’s group to be targeted, but he may not be telling the whole story either. He lengthens his pause waiting for what Walker’s plan for him is.
He notes Walker watching him, waiting for him to reply. When nothing is forthcoming, Walker shrugs.
“If they know the details about us that they apparently do, then there’s a good chance that they might know about you. I just thought you should know as it could increase your danger as well. How is your expedition faring?” Walker asks.
This isn’t exactly where he thought Walker was heading with this conversation. There isn’t a talk to take sides, or really much mention of ‘sides’. So far, it’s just been imparting information without any leading statements or trying to guide the conversation in a certain direction. Leonard relaxes his stance slightly and tells of their travels down the seaboard.
“We sent a group your way two days ago,” Leonard says, relating to the small group they rescued.
“I hope they made it. I’ll check on them when I return,” Walker responds.
“What are your plans upon leaving here?” Leonard asks.
“We still have a group out. They should be somewhere between Peterson AFB and Luke AFB. We’re going to locate them and bring them home. The plan is to then conduct a flyby of the facility I mentioned to get a closer look. We’ll plan
based on what we see. Are you still thinking of Hawaii after San Diego?”
“I’m not sure what we’re planning after that. Like you, we’ll base our decision on what we find,” Leonard answers.
“We won’t have the sat comms, but we’ll make periodic forays out your way if possible and try to stay in touch that way. Is there anything you need?” Walker asks.
“Thanks, but I think we’re good for now,” Leonard replies, still cautious, waiting for Walker’s appeal for the sub to join his side.
“Okay, we’ll come down as much as possible and give you a jingle. That’s until Spring rolls around. Then we’ll be grounded. If there’s anything you need prior to then, let us know and we’ll assist if we can. Good luck to you, Leonard,” Walker says, reaching to shake his hand.
Leonard returns the shake and watches as Walker turns and begins heading back up the beach toward his team.
“Walker…Jack, wait,” Leonard calls out, having reached a decision.
Walker looks over his shoulder. Upon his return, Leonard tells him of the messages they received and the target they were given.
Walker pauses, staring intensely at Leonard. “Well, I can’t say that I like that news much. I’m glad you didn’t turn north.”
“It didn’t seem right. I concur that we’re dealing with a rogue group and it’s apparent they have DoD file access. We’re still heading to our home port and not sure where we’re going from there but, I’ll make the same offer to you. If you need anything, give us a call. If we have to go deep, we’ll make sure and come to periscope depth at dawn, noon, and sundown if possible,” Leonard states; the two groups are now working together.
He knows that there will still need to be a conversation about leadership but sees that Walker seems to understand this as well. Leonard is content with that for the moment.
“Thank you, Captain. That’s very much appreciated. And thanks for not lobbing missiles at us.”
“Jack, keep in mind that we won’t be able to arrive at a moment’s notice, nor do we carry armament capable of taking out a bunker of the magnitude you mentioned,” Leonard states.
“Duly noted. You and your crew are welcome north anytime. I know you mentioned that we need to have further conversations, and I welcome it. To be honest, between you and me, I’m tired and ready to throw a hammock up between two palm trees and call it good.”
“I’ll be fighting you for those palm trees. Good luck with picking up your team,” Leonard says.
“And you with your search,” Walker says.
Walker looks over Leonard’s shoulder in the direction of the chief’s team and nods. He then turns and begins marching through the sand towards his team. Leonard watches for a moment longer and then does the same.
* * * * * *
Gav watches the video replay the control room sent to her laptop. She had directed the personnel there to continue watching for the Santa Fe. She read their reply verifying receipt of their first message but nothing upon sending the second one…the one targeting Walker and his group. She knows they received it but chose not to reply. She had focused the satellite surveillance on both the northern coastlines of Oregon and Washington and the southern shores of California. She ordered both to be covered as she needed to know which avenue the Santa Fe would take regarding the target mission.
Looking at the screen, she has her answer. They chose to disregard the instructions sent. There is a small chance they never received the communication, but she doubts it. On the monitor, she watches as a C-130 from the camp A-US-1 flies down the coastline and lands. Fast forwarding to the location of the video given by the control room, she witnesses the Santa Fe surfacing near where the Hercules landed. Watching the events unfold, she is not happy. She knows that her game is up in that arena. She played her hand there and lost again.
A lifetime of successes and now this. This is the worst possible time for things to start going wrong, she thinks, reaching over to stop the video.
She isn’t used to failure and is doubly frustrated by the timing of having to deal with it.
* * * * * *
Returning to the sub, Leonard opts to travel inside of the Channel Islands. He is satisfied with his decision regarding Walker and that the two groups help each other. He is nervous over the technological advantage of the rogue group. The anxiety is alleviated to an extent considering the limited force Walker says they have. It doesn’t appear they can strike back quickly without traveling great distances and then all Leonard has to do is put out to sea.
That’s assuming Walker has told him everything. He’ll still operate on the cautious side just in case. He offered help to the northern group, but that doesn’t mean he wants to get caught up in a battle between the groups. It’s funny how quick humankind returns to that form of conduct when dealing with each other – might makes right.
Perhaps there’s only a small remnant of those types that made it through the downfall.
Leonard hopes this isn’t going to be the norm for the last traces of humanity. He doesn’t agree with the use of force as an initial tool, but has no hesitation whatsoever about using it to protect his crew. And, if it really came down to it, humankind. The story Walker told, if true, is a chilling one. Contingencies and theories are one thing, but actually putting something into practice like that…purposely bringing about the downfall of humanity…is downright evil. Leonard briefs his officers on the meeting and the decision he reached.
Oil derricks dot the open water as the Santa Fe makes its way south. Rugged hills hugging the shoreline give way to towns where the hills open up. Strands of pristine beach, miles long, front the large cities with beachfront houses and businesses running right up to the edge. Between the large settlements, bluffs rise abruptly out of the water with rough hills and deep valleys beyond.
Rounding the Malibu point, the metropolis of Los Angeles opens up – twenty miles of beach and waterfront property. The buildings of the past civilization stretching over twice that far inland and farther south past the cliffs of Palos Verdes. Most of that is lost from sight due to the curvature of the earth as Leonard looks through the periscope. He notes the lack of the brown haze that usually sits over the megalopolis.
Turning his view south, he can barely make out the bluffs of Palos Verdes and catches a glint from the vast residential areas that lie on top. Much farther to the south, he spies a barely visible dark smudge lying on the horizon.
Pulling as close to the shore as he dares, Leonard surfaces the Santa Fe. With Walker’s information, he isn’t feeling as exposed as he did previously. He’s cast his trust with that group and, if he’s been led astray, then so be it. If information surfaces that Walker has been less than honest with him, he’ll deal with it at that time. The northern group had several chances to take them out if they wanted to, and Leonard hasn’t seen any indication that they’re being led on. He’s rolled the dice and, for now, he’ll let them roll.
Water streams from the sleek hull as the dark shape rises from the depths, parking about midway and just offshore from the large waterway leading to Marina Del Rey. Standing atop the tower, Leonard isn’t able to see into the channel itself due to a tall, rocky breakwater shielding the entrance. The low, resonating sound of their foghorn rolls across the water and into the outskirts of city.
Sunlight sparkles off the rolling swells and bathes the land beyond, the calm broken only by occasional blasts of the horn. Leonard wants to give anyone who can hear the sound time to respond. In a city this large, there certainly has to be survivors. Although, it could be the just the opposite - that a place of this size would have an exorbitant number of night runners making survival next to impossible.
Raising the high-powered binoculars, Leonard traces the shoreline. Several dark figures stand out against the light-colored sand. At this distance, he can’t make out much definition but they haven’t moved from the time he first spotted them. He can definitely see that they are bodies and they are either sunbathing in the mid
dle of an apocalypse or dead. A closer inspection reveals the beach is strewn with dead bodies.
“Sir. We have activity around the breakwater,” one of the lookouts states.
Leonard looks to the area and focuses on the movement. The white hulls of several boats appear from behind the rocky breakwater. More follow and they all turn toward the Santa Fe.
“I count nine of them, sir,” the lookout reports.
“I see them,” Leonard says.
White sprays out from each of the boats as they plow through the swells – they are approaching quickly having sped up after clearing the seawall. The vessels themselves are large, sea-going pleasure boats. Not quite yachts, but not far from it. Focusing on the boats in front, Leonard sees several figures atop the decks and in the steering houses.
Contacting the control room, he has the sub turned toward the open water and preparations for an emergency dive initiated. Although they are adequately protected, he doesn’t know the intentions of the people rapidly closing in on their position. He doesn’t want to risk the chance of a stray round damaging his boat.
“Have Chief Krandle and his team standing ready,” he says, finishing.
As the boats approach, they spread out so that they are approaching line abreast. This configuration and the fact that they haven’t slowed doesn’t make Leonard feel any kinder toward their intentions. They have no outside armament with which to engage surface vessels, or anything else for that matter. He’ll let them approach to within hailing distance and tell them to halt. If they keep coming on, he’ll order full speed and slip beneath the waves, leaving the ones advancing to themselves.
The outlines of the vessels become distinct without the aid of binoculars. Bow waves splash out from the oncoming boats as their hulls pound into the face of the swells. Leonard feels the sub heel as it begins its turn to face the ocean and deeper water. He shifts positions to keep the approaching boats in sight.
Raising the bullhorn, his voice is amplified across the intervening space. “That’s close enough.”