Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

“You disobeyed a direct order, Captain Butler,” Moore says.

“No, sir, I managed the situation as I saw fit as the commander on the ground.”

“No, Captain, you disobeyed a direct order from the governor himself.”

“I guess we can agree to disagree, sir.”

“This isn’t a disagreement, Captain. Your fate will be determined at a later date.”

Butler’s cheeks redden with anger. “How about we decide my fate right now? I resign.”

“Resignation denied. I want a full written report on my desk by the end of the day.”

Butler blows out a breath, trying to keep his temper in check. “You’ll have it along with my written resignation letter. Is that all, sir?”

“No, that is not all, Captain Butler,” Moore says. “Do not waste your time drafting a resignation letter. It will not be accepted during a period of martial law.”

“Who declared martial law?”

“The governor did last night. A majority of the state is now without power.”

“We’ll resolve this issue later. I better get started on that report, sir.”

“I am not through with you, Captain.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I’m exhausted and hungry. My men and I have been at this all night.”

“I’m sorry the world doesn’t conform to your schedule, Captain Butler. We have multiple reports of looting in Buffalo. You and your men will return to Buffalo and you will patrol the streets and return the city to order.”

Butler pulls the phone away from his ear and mutters a string of curse words. He takes a deep breath and puts the phone back to his ear. “Is that all, sir?”

“That is all, Captain. Do not forget my report.”

When the general hangs up, Butler tosses the phone in the truck and mutters a long string of curses.

Norfolk, Virginia

Now three miles from Norfolk, Captain Bruce Hensley heads to his stateroom to shit, shower, and shave and to change into his dress uniform. Filled with apprehension, he has no idea what to expect upon their arrival. Downstairs, he ducks his head into the officers’ wardroom. “Admiral, we’ll be docking in a few minutes.”

Admiral Malloy nods. “I’ve made several calls on your behalf, Bruce. I believe things are going to work out just fine for you.” The admiral returns to staring at the table, as if studying the wood grain.

“Thank you, sir.” Hensley wants to ask Malloy about the outlook for the admiral’s situation, but decides against it. “You can use Lieutenant Commander Connelly’s quarters if you’d like to freshen up, sir.”

Malloy never looks up from the table when he says, “Thank you, Captain.”

Hensley ducks back out of the room and closes the door. After entering his stateroom, he flips on the shower and strips out of his sweaty clothes. Once he finishes up in the bathroom he puts on his dress uniform, grabs his phone, and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He pulls up his wife’s phone number and stares at the picture he’d snapped of her laughing. He liked the photo so much that he attached it to Maggie’s number so that it comes up every time she calls. Now, with his career likely over, he wonders where they’ll settle down. That is, if he doesn’t end up in the brig. Though, from what the admiral says, that’s probably not going to happen, but Hensley knows there are no guarantees. He touches Maggie’s photo and puts the phone to his ear.

Maggie answers on the second ring. “Bruce, what in the world’s going on? Somebody bombed the hell out of the base.”

“I know, babe. Believe me, I know.”

“Who did it? The Chinese? The Russians?”

“No, someone much closer to home.” Hensley sighs. “It was us.”

“What?” Maggie shouts over the phone. “What do you mean, ‘It was us’? Our own navy?”

“To be more specific, it was the USS Stark .”

“Oh Jesus. What happened?”

“Someone hacked the computers on board.”

“How and who?”

“We don’t know the answer to either of those questions.”

“Okay. I can understand that. It’s going to take a while. But how did the base get bombed not once, but twice? Didn’t your crew learn the lesson the first time?”

“It’s a long story, Mags. I had no control over the second bombing.”

“What in the Sam Hill are you talking about, Bruce? You’re the captain.”

“Admiral Malloy came out on a chopper. He’s—oh hell, I’ll explain everything when I get home. If they let me come home, that is.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll be in port in a few minutes.”

“I’m coming down there.”

“No. Stay home. I’ll let you—”

A gunshot echoes through the ship. Hensley jumps to his feet.

“Was that a gunshot?” Maggie asks.

“Yeah. I gotta go. I’ll call you back.” Hensley kills the call and slides the phone into his pocket as he hurries to the door. He opens it and hears footsteps hurrying down the stairs, then Kathleen Connelly comes charging down the hall. She pulls up short when she spots Hensley.

“Thank God. I thought you’d gone and done something stupid.”

“Not me. Where did the shot come from?”

“I don’t know.”

With a sinking feeling Hensley walks over to the officers’ wardroom and opens the door. Admiral Richard Malloy is slumped in the chair, his blood dripping down what’s left of his face and onto his shoulder. The pistol he used to shoot himself is lying on the table. Trying not to disturb the scene, Hensley steps carefully into the room to check if Malloy has a pulse and finds he doesn’t. Not that he expected to find one, based on the size of the exit wound and the blood and brain matter splattered on the wall. Hensley exits and closes and locks the door. He looks at his executive officer. “Kat, please post a guard on the door. No one is to enter the room until the military police arrive.”

“I’ll handle it, Bruce. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I knew he was despondent. I should have taken his service weapon.”

“He wouldn’t have let you take it even if you’d tried. He was a stubborn man.”

“He was that.” Hensley sighs. “A complicated situation just became far more complicated. I don’t know what’s going to happen when we dock, Kat. I assume I’ll be taken in for questioning and that means that you are now in command. You better get back to the bridge so you can help dock this piece of shit.”

“We were all a part of it, Bruce. And I’m sure we’re all going to get grilled. But the one thing you need to remember is there was nothing we could have done. No one knew the ship’s computers were compromised.”

“I know. But the navy will want someone to pay.”

Connelly points at the door to the wardroom and says, “I think someone just did.”

Thirty minutes later the ship is docked. Captain Bruce Hensley steps out on the deck and salutes the two military police officers awaiting him. They return the salute and take Hensley in for questioning. During the interrogation process Hensley is told the final tally. His shoulders sag and he begins to weep when the military police inform him that six ships have been sunk, several others have been damaged, and nearly eight hundred sailors have been killed.

It’s dark by the time the captain is released. He steps outside the headquarters building into the warm night, still unsure of his fate. That won’t be decided until a thorough investigation has been completed. He walks to his car and climbs in. When he arrives home, Maggie meets him at the door with a cold glass of his favorite bourbon and a warm hug.