"Sir, we have a small boat headed our way."
"Warn them off." Burk replied.
"Vessel heading 3-5-2, divert course. You are on a collision course." The boat didn't react. "It's a small boat, sir. Maybe they don't have a radio."
"Maybe not. Have the lookout signal them visually. If they get too close, we'll have to fire a warning shot." He paused before continuing grimly. "Then a real shot." They didn't dare trust an unknown boat in these waters, even one that small – it still had plenty of room for explosives on it.
"Sir!" Said lookout burst onto the bridge. "That's Captain Chandler!"
"You're shitting me." Captain Chandler was dead.
"No sir, look for yourself sir!"
Burk grabbed the captain's binoculars and looked out at the boat. Sure enough, there was a man standing on the prow waving both hands in the air. He focused the lenses to get a better look at the man's face.
"I'll be damned." He said quietly. "Let's bring them aboard. I really want to hear this story."
. . . .
"Damn glad to see you sir. What the hell happened?"
"Peng's an asshole, and someone on our side is a traitor."
"What!?"
"It's a long story – how about we take this inside?"
"Right, sorry sir. Let's get you some food and a change of clothes." He looked over the captain's rather bedraggled entourage and included them in the invite. "What size are you guys, anyway?"
Val and Sasha exchanged a look and laughed.
"Nice try, Burk." Val replied.
"Good to see you haven't changed, Val. Care to introduce us to your new friends?"
"Well, Wolf you know. Sasha here was our contact in China."
"Naval intelligence." Sasha clarified.
"And Michael here was the only one smart enough to bring a boat to the party."
"Thanks for helping us out, man. Whatever you need, let us know. The Navy is grateful. Maybe we could get you a new boat." He offered. The boat they'd arrived on was, to put it kindly, well-traveled. Michael was a little offended.
"That boat saved my life, man."
"…or fix yours up." Burk added diplomatically, glancing back at the small craft on the deck as the party went below.
. . . .
"So the president never got our message."
"If you gave it to the pilot, sir, no."
"How do we warn Michener? Without telling anyone we're alive?"
"Val, any ideas?"
"Well, I can probably encrypt a message. But we would still need to pick a key that only someone we trust would know – and somehow tell them that key in a way that others wouldn't guess."
"Who can we trust in the government?"
"Kara." Val replied. "But what excuse do we have to send her, specifically, a private message? Lt. Green's not even on board."
"What about Dr. Scott?" Sasha suggested.
"What about her?"
"We could send her a private message pretty easily."
"What, some new data file on why the virus isn't working?"
"I suppose that could work. But I was thinking of Michael."
Burk was confused.
"Boat guy? Why?"
"Apparently, before the Red Flu, he was in a relationship with Dr. Scott." Sasha explained. Val watched in amusement as Burk had trouble processing that information.
"What, women aren't allowed to have previous relationships?" she snarked.
"I mean, yeah. It's just before the flu hit, none of us knew her as anything other than that egghead scientist who liked to freeze her butt off in the snow. And drag us along for the trip."
Chandler chuckled. Apparently, his initial assessment of Rachel was fairly common.
"No offense, sir." Burk added quickly.
"None taken. I was just as annoyed with her and her damn birds."
"So we just need to talk Michael into talking with her."
"He doesn't want to talk to her?" The women at the table just looked at him with pity at his naivete until he thought about it for a minute. "Right."
"I'll talk to him." Sasha volunteered.
. . . .
She found Michael looking over the railing at nothing in particular.
"It'll get better, you know." She said quietly. His response was to raise a skeptical eyebrow at the newcomer. "No, really." He scoffed and looked for an exit.
"Hey, want to know a fun fact?" she said, neatly cornering him against the railing. His expression said otherwise, but she wasn't giving him much of a choice, so he nodded as he looked back out to sea. "I dated Tom Chandler in the academy." He froze, then slowly turned to face her. "Really."
"Okay…what happened?"
"Mutual break. We were good together, but a career in naval intelligence isn't exactly compatible with a command track, and we were both super into our careers at that point…so we broke it off. I cried for months."
"But you got over it." He said flatly.
"Eventually."
They stood in silence for a minute before he spoke again.
"So what do you want? I doubt you tracked me down solely to engage in a support group session of famous people's exes."
"Perceptive. I like you." She nodded approvingly. "We need you to talk to Rachel. Or at least let her know you're alive."
"I already told you, I don't want to talk to her."
"I know. But we need to send her a personal, eyes-only message – without letting anyone know that Tom and Val are alive. We need to write a message that is believably yours, so that it gets through the system to her, and then put a message to her inside it about what's going on."
"Do I actually have to talk with her?"
"Perhaps briefly. But we're already having video communication difficulties; it won't be hard to claim that voice coms are patchy too. Just enough to convince her it's really you and to read a letter. It will be encrypted, so only her and us will be able to read it."
He was silent for a moment, then nodded reluctantly.
"When do you need it?"
"As soon as possible."
"Alright. Let's get started."