J. Curtis - Calexit - The Anthology

To those who put their lives on the line every day, at every level, caring for and protecting their fellow man. Volunteer, paid, active or reserves, every one of them deserves all credit.

Thanks to the usual suspects.

Special thanks to my editor, Stephanie Martin.

Cover art by Tina Garceau.

This collection is from a number of different authors, based on discussions after I published my original novella, The Morning the Earth Shook. We created a very ‘loose’ working world, if you will, with few parameters that the authors had to adhere to. After that, it was up to the individual authors to write their stories, as they saw them happening.

Editor’s Note:

While I tried to keep things as consistent as possible, I deliberately left certain things alone. So we have the Republic of Cali, the State of Cali, the Nation of Cali. All of the names represent one thing: a broken and corrupt state. The stories, which all came in piecemeal, have, perhaps to no surprise, a consistent theme of a struggle for freedom, in whatever form the individual author chose to manifest it. Mr. Curtis did a masterful job in arranging these stories into a flow that create a coherent overall tale and it was my pleasure to be a very small part of this project.

This is the result of that collaboration- May I present Calexit- The Anthology .

October 2022 was off to a good start. Commander Mike James, the token SEAL on 7 thFleet’s staff, escorted his petite, still attractive wife Trisha, and son Mike Jr., or ‘Mikey’, as he was known, through the security gate. Taking them up the brow, and onboard the flagship sitting in Yokosuka harbor, he saluted the watch, asking permission to come aboard. The young Lieutenant JG returned the salute, welcoming them aboard. Turning toward the stern, Mike took them to the Seventh Fleet access, opening the wooden door inset in the watertight door frame, and warning, “Remember, Navy ship. Gotta step over the coaming.”

Trish glanced around and stuck her tongue out at him, “Yes, dear. You’d think I’ve never been aboard a ship before.” Mikey just shook his head, following his mother through the hatch and making sure it was closed behind him. At seventeen years old, he was as tall as his dad, and had the same wiry build. He was a starter on the basketball team, but knew his career in the sport would be over when he graduated.

Mike pointed up and Trish sighed, “I know, I know, this is why I don’t wear dresses on ships, or high heels.” Mike admired her still shapely rear end as she started up the steep ladder, noting she was careful to hold on to the handrails, and Mike motioned to Mikey to go next. He went last, and followed them to another watertight door, looking through the porthole before he opened it. Leading them down the passageway, he stopped in the Flag Aide’s office, “LT, how far behind is the admiral today?”

Lieutenant Angie Pierce looked up, “He’s actually on time. He’ll be ready for you as soon as he gets off this phone call,” glancing at the multi-timezone clock on the bulkhead, she continued, “It’s with Pac Fleet, and it’s scheduled for thirty minutes, so if you want to wait in the mess, I’ll come get you.”

“That works, thanks!” Leading them further down the passageway, he turned down a cross passage, and into the flag mess, automatically going for a cup of coffee, as he waved to the Chief in charge of the mess. Mikey went for a glass of fruit drink, more commonly known as bug juice, and Mike shook his head, ‘Really?”

Mikey shrugged, “I like it. It kinda tastes like Gatorade.”

Carrying two cups of coffee, he went back to where Trish had sat down, and passed one across to her. The Chief came over, “Need some milk or sugar, Mrs. J?”

Trish smiled up at him, “No thanks, Chief. I’ve been a Navy wife too many years. Hot, black, and nasty, or not at all. Is Lois going to make the PTA meeting tomorrow night?”

“Yes, ma’am. She’s a little worried about taking over as the president, but I keep telling her to just be herself.”

LT Pierce opened the door and stuck her head in, “Commander, he’s ready for y’all now.”

Mike went to pick up the cups, and the Chief said, “Go ahead sir, I got these. And congratulations.”

“Thanks, Chief, I think…”

Vice Admiral Larry Mann, Commander, Seventh Fleet, stood up and came around the desk as the lieutenant escorted Mike and his family in, “Mike, Trish, great to see you. Michael, that was a helluva catch and touchdown Thursday night. You saved the game with that one.”

Mikey blushed a little, stammering, “Uh, thank you, sir. I was just in the right place, I guess.”

The admiral smiled, “You did that with preparation, and keeping your head up and looking for the ball!” He was interrupted by the chief of staff coming in, “Bear, come on in. You remember Trish and Michael?”

Captain Williams smiled, “Of course. Welcome to our humble abode.”

The staff photographer’s mate came in, camera in hand, and said, “In front of your desk, or the map, Admiral?”

The admiral glanced at the map and said, “Um, let’s make it in front of the desk, with the flags in the background.” After the photographer’s mate got everyone where she wanted them, she stepped back and nodded, and the admiral said, “Lieutenant, if you would…”

LT Pierce handed the admiral two eagle insignia, and he handed one to Trish, as he nodded. The aide picked up the blue binder, “Attention to orders…” She read the promotion order. Then the admiral and Trish, then Trish and Michael mimed pinning on the captain’s insignia on Mike, as the photographer snapped pictures.

Over coffee and a piece of cake, delivered by the mess Chief, along with a glass of bug juice for Mikey, the admiral said, “I’m proud of you Mike, below zone, first increment. That’s pretty impressive.” Nodding at the ribbons and the Trident on his uniform, he continued, “But obviously well deserved. I was half expecting you to show up in BDUs today,” turning to Trish he said, “I’m assuming this is your doing?”

Trish laughed, “Khakis I could manage, I’m not sure Mike even has a set of whites here.” Everyone laughed, and she said, “I know where one set of choker whites are, I think…”

More laughter erupted, and Captain Williams said, “Figures. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen Mike in a set of whites, but I’ve only been here a year.”

Mike put his hand over his heart, “I’m wounded, wounded I tell you. The slings and arrows I endure. Bear, if you remember, I actually wore whites to your change of command. Now I know you boat drivers have some memory issues…”

The admiral interrupted, “Before you start slandering aviators, along with boat drivers, I do need to let you know you’re going to be on orders next month or so.”

All three of the James’ looked at the admiral, “You’re getting Naval Special Warfare Group One in San Diego. Change of command will be right after the first of the year.”

Mike and Trish exchanged glances, with Trish shaking her head slowly. The admiral cocked his head, and Mike finally said, “Captain Holt has some serious medical issues. He’s already undergone chemo, and he must have had a reoccurrence. I’ve known Lee for almost twenty years, and Trish and Beth…”

The aide stuck her head in the door, “Sorry Admiral, Comman… Captain James, there is a secure call for you in Ops. It’s from your Joint Task Force folks in the Philippines.”