John O'Brien - Conspiracy

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 room. 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.