Chapter 3: "Project Anzio"
21 October 2023
"You're sure they noticed your boat, Captain?" President Alexander Bourne asked across the vidlink. Some people might have called him a micromanager, but he knew better than to give his full trust to the people he had bought. If they were willing to sell themselves to him, there was always the potential that someone else could pay them more, a complicating factor he always kept an eye out for. After all, Alexander hadn't become the president of the Alliance of Macronesia by giving people the opportunity to stab him in the back.
"They certainly noticed when I blew their tug out of the water. And I made sure Atlantis caught my scent. I'll do it again if I have to—they've been a bit slow on the uptake."
"Don't get cocky. We want them to know we can do what we want in their waters, not have them blow you out of the water and dissect our technology," he warned sharply, finding the captain's smug look was infuriating.
"I won't get caught. Spectre is faster and more powerful than anything the UEO has, and I'm a better captain than any of the children they have in command of their boats. Give me four months, and Hawaii will be a Macronesian possession, Mr. President."
"Four months?" he echoed, trying not to sound dubious. Of course, he'd read the plans General Stassi forwarded to him, but hearing the captain say it so bluntly was enough to make even Alexander Bourne take a deep breath.
"Four months," was the steady response. "Johnston Atoll Naval Station will be ours no later than January, and by February, we'll move onto Pearl Harbor. And then you'll own the Pacific."
"Most of it, anyway," he replied wryly, then smiled. "As always, your ambition impresses me, Captain. Don't let me down."
After the last remark, he cut the vidlink, and then leaned back in his chair, contemplating the bigger picture.
In the year and a half since the Alliance of Macronesia had been formed, he had faced many challenges as a leader. The trade embargo that the UEO had imposed hadn't been unexpected, which was why Alexander had been sure to set aside a large budget for military funding. His plan was to make Macronesia the strongest power in the world, which meant having the best technology that money could buy.
The stealth subs were just one of many projects his scientists had been working on. He was pleased with the progress that he had seen. Since Spectre had been in the water, Macronesia had increased its holdings significantly. Even better, they had dealt several hard blows to the UEO, while only taking minimal losses in return.
And with all of his other players in the game, he was entirely certain that they would take Hawaii before the UEO could blunder its way through all of the red tape and put up some sort of resistance. Soon enough, his military would have almost one hundred Lysander-class sub fighters, and there was nothing in the UEO arsenal that could stand up to them in a mass attack. And once Chimera came on line… He resisted the urge to rub his hands together in glee. The time to celebrate had not yet arrived, though the day would come sooner than the UEO thought.
Eventually, the UEO might try to match them, but in their preoccupation with peace, they had neglected their own military, and would be years behind the Alliance, no matter what kind of massive armament program they launched.
And by then, it will be too little, too late, he thought smugly. 2024 will be the year of Macronesian dominance, and there's no one to stop us.
23 October 2023
"Hello, Oliver," a familiar voice said. "Mind if I join you?" Hudson looked up from the report he had been reading as a diminutive woman slid into the chair across from him.
"Hello, Marissa," he greeted the captain of Louisiana. "What brings you back to Pearl?"
The expression she made in response to his question was downright distasteful. "Offloading some rubbish and taking on fresh supplies. We're making a run to the Marshall Islands soon."
"Rubbish?" Marissa Clancy wasn't always the most subtle of women, something Hudson had learned in the disastrous two months they had dated when they were both young lieutenants. She was absolutely gorgeous in a no-nonsense kind of way, though, and seeing her had taught Oliver Hudson an important lesson about beautiful women who happened to also be strong—they didn't like men getting in their way, regardless of the circumstances. Now, however, Marissa's pale Irish face was twisted into a scowl.
"One of my officers decided to get drunk just before we were due to reach Sierra Colony. I had to hand him over to the MPs," she replied. She waved at the waiter to grab his attention. "I hope you don't mind if I order something to eat, I'm ravished."
"Of course not." He checked his wristwatch, realizing it was nearly lunchtime. "I should probably order something as well."
"How long have you been sitting here, Oliver?" Marissa asked in amusement, shoving short red hair out of her face.
"A couple of hours. I'm sick of sitting in that damn office at the SUBRON," he replied. "I can just as easily read reports here."
"They still haven't given you a new boat yet?"
She sounded surprised, but then again, someone had told her that commanding a supply hauler would enhance her career, although it kept Marissa out of the communications loop sometimes. She was due to rotate in less than a year, he knew, and fervently hoped that he wouldn't be competing with her for his next command. The brass loved women like Marissa Clancy; there was something about short, red-haired firebrands that made Admirals hand over the best jobs.
It helped that she was competent, of course. Damn competent. Oliver would not have been surprised if she wound up promoted to Captain soon—and she'd deserve it. But she'd asked a question, and he should answer it before Marissa decided he'd gone soft after losing a boat.
Oliver scowled. "No. They haven't decided where to send me yet. And while they sit there twiddling their thumbs, Macronesia is running around causing more trouble," he grumbled. "I should be out there doing something, damn it."
"That's the brass for you. Always slow to move on the things that need doing, and sticking their noses into things that aren't any of their business," she commiserated.
"Speaking from personal experience?" It was her turn to scowl now.
"I was this close to nailing Krieg's ass to the wall for drinking on my boat, and what happens? Nathan freakin' Bridger steps in and bails him out for some top secret project," she snarled angrily.
She must really hate this Krieg fellow, Hudson thought, amused. Better him than me. Marissa's a spitfire, that's for sure.
"I think he's back on with those dolphins of his," Hudson said. "That's what scuttlebutt says, at least. Don't worry, Marissa. They're leaving the fighting to those of us who are willing to shoot, and weeding out the bad apples. And the weak ones."
Marissa only looked slightly mollified, but when the waiter finally came over to take their orders, they let the subject go, catching up on old times instead of griping about new ones.
26 October 2023
Lucas' orders told him to report to "Project Anzio", something that would have ticked him off if Admiral Noyce hadn't told him what that meant ahead of time. He had just graduated from the last school that the Navy had decided, in its infinite wisdom, to send him to. Although why he really needed a course called Tactical Weapons Management was beyond Lucas. At least it had been more interesting than the one class which had essentially been a series of techniques he had developed when he was sixteen.
Now it was time to buck the system again, with permission this time.
With the long flight between Rhode Island and Hawaii, Lucas wished he was the type who was able to sleep on airplanes. But even if he was, he had too much from his conversation with the admiral to think about.
From what the admiral had been saying, Lucas wasn't so sure Captain Bridger would be taking command of seaQuest when she was finished. The UEO Senate was supposed to be going into session soon to vote whether war should be declared or not. If they voted in favor, Admiral Noyce had hinted that the captain might head back to his island and stay there.
Lucas didn't hold it against the captain for not wanting to go to war. He wasn't very fond of the idea, either. Most of his childhood had been spent with the world in one state of war or another, and Lucas' parents had always been pacifists. When his father finally had heard about Lucas joining the Navy, he had nearly given himself a heart attack with his shouting.
But Lucas couldn't just hide in some classroom while his friends from seaQuest were out there fighting a war, official or not. He didn't think the captain could, either, but he had been proven wrong once before when General Thomas had tried to make Captain Bridger hunt down Max Scully. For two weeks that seemed to last a lifetime, the captain had hidden, ignoring the rest of the world.
Sometimes, it was hard to tell what would set the captain off, but Lucas hoped that wouldn't happen again this time. Things hadn't been this bad in over ten years, not since the Treaty of Reykjavik had been signed in 2010, ending World War III. Surely the captain couldn't turn his back on the world this time.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Ground control just informed me that we'll have to divert to Dallas-Fort Worth," the voice over the PA said. The pilot sounded shaken, and Lucas' first thought was that something was wrong with the plane, but then the announcement continued. "There was a massive earthquake centered just outside of Los Angeles about an hour ago. The extent of damage isn't quite clear yet, but… most of California is gone. I'm sorry, folks."
There was a long moment of stunned silence before everyone in the plane started talking and shouting at once. Most of the people on board had been destined for California, whether they were returning home or visiting there. And now…
Lucas shivered. This wasn't because of Macronesia, and those people wouldn't have had time to prepare for something like this. Millions of people were probably dead in an instant, and thousands, if not more, would probably die in the coming days.
He pulled his laptop out from under the seat in front of him, turning it on and dialing into a satellite uplink to the Internex. Anything else would be too bogged down by people trying to find more information about what had happened.
"8.6," he whispered, the news splashed across every webpage he pulled up. His stomach twisted. He felt guilty, relieved that he didn't know anyone in California. At least he wasn't aware of anyone he knew who might have been there. Millions of people packed into such a small, seismically active area had been a recipe for disaster for years on end. But the "big one" had finally come, and the UEO would be scrambling to deal with this newest crisis.
And Macronesia would take the political back seat. Which meant things were about to get ten times worse, if the foreign confederation's past actions were anything to go by. There would be a war, whether the UEO, Captain Bridger, or Lucas wanted one.
27 October 2023
18:49
Damn. He'd been so caught up in walking spaces that he hadn't noticed what time it was—there was no way he'd make it to Chef Mavro on time for their dinner reservation. The walk back to his office from the shed took another ten minutes or so, by which time there was definitely no time to drive across the island from the base to the restaurant by seven-thirty. Although the drive from the Naval Shipyard to Chef Mavro was about eleven miles, evening traffic would make the drive take almost a half an hour, and that didn't allow any time for him to shower and change out of his grease-stained coveralls.
And none of that took into account the fact that he had, like an idiot, rescheduled a meeting with three of the shipyard's contractors for 19:15. There was no way in heaven that meeting would be over in fifteen minutes, either. It was more likely to take two hours than one—two hours of bureaucratic infighting and misery.
Punching up his vidlink, he dialed the number from memory. Moments later, the familiar British accent answered, along with a still photograph he knew far too well.
"You've reached Doctor Kristin Westphalen, director of Undersea Exploration at the Alvin Institute at the University of Hawaii. I'm unable to take your call right now, but if you leave me a message, I will return your call as soon as possible."
Nathan sighed, hoping she had not already left. Kristin would kill him if she wound up waiting at the restaurant alone.
"Hi, Kristin. It's Nathan. I'm afraid that I'm not going to be able to make dinner tonight—I've wound up scheduling a meeting to start in fifteen minutes that I can't miss. I'm going to have to make it up to you sometime next week—or this Saturday, if you can make the time."
He glanced at the clock again. 19:02. Hopefully, she would at least check her inbox before settling into wait for him for God-only-knew-how-long.
"Anyway, I've got to run, but drop me a line when you get the chance. Bye—"
He reached for the disconnect button, only to hear Kristin's voice suddenly interjecting.
"Nathan! Don't hang up!"
His finger stopped less than a half an inch away from the button, and Nathan felt a grin split his face. "Kristin. Hey."
"I'm so glad you called," she said hurriedly. "I'm at the airport, getting ready to fly to San Diego on a government flight—my flight boards in a few minutes, and I was worrying that I'd never get through to you. I've left you eight messages, Nathan."
Belatedly, he glanced at his inbox, and sure enough, it was flashing a notification that he had…eight waiting messages. "Sorry," he replied, abashed.
She gave him a hard look. "You haven't heard, have you?"
"Heard what?"
"You really are buried in your work, aren't you?" Kristin asked rhetorically, looking exasperated. "Last night there was a major earthquake along the coast of California. Most of the state has sunk, Nathan. San Diego's an island."
"San Diego is a what?" was all he could manage to say. Nathan stared at her in shock, trying to force the words to register.
"An island. Most of the state is gone. I'm flying out to help with disaster recovery with my entire medical staff. They're saying it was at least an 8.6 on the Richter scale. Millions are probably dead."
"Oh…damn." It was all he could think of saying. Nathan felt like his stomach had dropped out, and he just stared.
"You'd best get to that meeting, Nathan," she said softly. "I've got to go—my flight's boarding. I'll call you when I get there."
He nodded slowly. "Alright. Be safe, Kristin."
"I'll try," she replied, and cut the connection.
For several long moments, all Nathan could do was sit at the terminal and stare at the UEO logo filling the screen. He'd seen more than his share of battles and bloodshed, but never in his life had he experienced a disaster of this magnitude. The UEO was going to be stretched to the breaking points to deal with such an earthquake, he knew, and the next few months were going to be rough.
His comm chimed again. "Captain?" Donna's voice interrupted his thoughts. "The contractors from Lockheed Martin and General Dynamics are here, sir."
"Thanks, Donna," he said numbly. "I'll be right there."
Lucas' body was declaring that it was 1:30 in the morning, and not 2030, like the clock on the desk claimed. He'd been awake for almost twenty hours now, and while sleep sounded wonderful, there was still too much adrenaline and caffeine in his system. And after the last two days he'd had, Lucas really wanted a friend to talk to. So he treated himself to a short, hot shower before changing into a t-shirt and a beat up old pair of jeans.
He was originally going to visit the captain in uniform, but he was too tired for practical jokes right now. He had spent most of last night and early this morning trying to figure out who to talk to and where to go to get on a military flight from Texas to Hawaii, and nine hours on a plane with a mixed group of sailors, airmen, and soldiers all fretting and worrying about the aftermath of the earthquake had left him even more exhausted. Putting a uniform on would mean having to be Lieutenant Wolenczak, and right now he just wanted to be Lucas.
The roads were fairly quiet this time of night, so Lucas was able to make good time from the base officer's quarters where he was staying in to the apartment Captain Bridger had. Lucas had visited him there a few times, back before the second seaQuest had been destroyed, so he knew the way.
Part of him wished the captain lived farther away, so Lucas would have more time to calm himself, but part of him knew if he had to go any farther, he'd only end up more nervous than he already was. All too soon, he was pulling up in front of the complex. He took a deep breath to collect himself before going up to the captain's door, ringing the bell and waiting for a response.
A long moment passed before he heard the familiar voice yell distantly "Come in!"
The moment he opened the door, the smell of something cooking caught Lucas' attention. Although there was no one in the kitchen that he could see, something seemed to be frying on the stove.
Lucas went to the kitchen to investigate, his mouth watering at the smell. He hadn't had anything to eat in hours. He called into the apartment: "Do you always leave your front door unlocked, Captain?"
"Lucas!" Bridger came out, wearing a smile and a grungy-looking old jumpsuit. "When did you get to Pearl?"
"About an hour ago," Lucas said, returning the smile. "It's been a long day, but I figured I'd come surprise you."
"Well, it worked. I didn't even know you were coming out here. And with a haircut, no less!" the captain marveled. "It's a miracle—what finally brought that about?"
"Oh, trust me, Captain, I wouldn't have gotten the haircut, but it was required for my new job," Lucas replied. He couldn't help baiting the captain a little bit.
Bridger frowned slightly. "What new job? I thought you were still working on a third Ph.D. at MIT." Then the captain moved over to the stove to check on what he was cooking. "You want to stay for dinner?"
"Please. I haven't eaten since Dallas, and that was hours ago," Lucas replied. "And I finished the Ph.D. Now the UEO has me doing some top secret computer stuff. Now, what was it my orders said? Oh, right, Project Anzio. Maybe you've heard of it?"
He couldn't keep the grin off his face while waiting for the captain's reaction.
"Can't say I have," Bridger deadpanned, but Lucas could see a slight gleam in his eyes. "And since when do you listen to orders?"
"I always listened to your orders, sir. Besides, Admiral Noyce gave them to me personally," Lucas said. Two could play at this game. "He said you were in charge of Project Anzio. Funny that you haven't heard of it."
"Did he now?" the captain looked like he was trying hard not to roll his eyes. He shot Lucas a skeptical look. "Spit it out, kiddo. You've never been good at lying to me."
Lucas gave him his best wide-eyed and innocent look. "Lying to you? I haven't been lying to you. I'm going to be doing top secret computer stuff for Project Anzio."
"And?" Bridger prompted, clearly reading Lucas all too well. "You can tell me what a haircut has to do with that any time now."
"I'll be reporting for duty officially, tomorrow, of course," Lucas added. He wasn't sure if it was dragging the joke out or fear of the captain's reaction that kept him from cutting to the chase.
"Reporting for duty? I think you'd best start explaining, Lucas." There was an edge in Bridger's voice that Lucas was not sure he particularly liked, but he had no choice but to continue, now.
He had to swallow hard before he could finally get the words out. Lucas found himself straightening out of his customary slouch, almost to attention, as he spoke. "Well I can't very well be seaQuest's new Electronic Warfare Officer as a civilian, sir."
Lucas was not sure he'd ever seen Bridger this shocked.
"Come again?"
"I'll be reporting as seaQuest's new EWO tomorrow, sir," he repeated. He would have laughed at the captain's surprise, but he wasn't sure if he was upset at the news or not, and he'd already antagonized the captain enough tonight.
Bridger leaned back against the counter, taking a deep breath. "You've joined the Navy." His face was unreadable; Lucas still could not tell what the captain thought of this. "And seaQuest."
"Yes, sir." He couldn't think of anything else to say, not until he knew whether the captain approved or not. If he didn't...
"Well, I'll be damned." Bridger sounded somewhat winded, but not terribly surprised. "You did that to stay with seaQuest, didn't you?"
"Partly. seaQuest was home, Captain, but... I couldn't just sit around getting useless degrees while my friends—my family—were out there fighting a war."
Bridger's smile was suddenly sad. He spoke softly, "I can understand that feeling."
"So you're not upset?" Lucas asked, feeling suddenly like he was sixteen again. The captain's approval meant more to him than anyone else's.
"I can't be upset with you, Lucas." The captain stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, wearing a slight smile. "Your life is your own—I'm just proud of you for doing what you think is right."
"Even if you don't agree with it?"
"Says who?"
"Everyone knows how you feel about fighting wars, Captain," Lucas said wryly.
Bridger smiled sheepishly. "So they do. That doesn't mean that I don't think you should do what you think is right, or that I don't think that some things are worth fighting for."
"And is all this worth fighting for?" Lucas asked, gesturing vaguely around them. "Or is it back to your private island once seaQuest is done?"
"The thought's occurred to me," was the half-serious response.
Lucas frowned. "Is that a 'maybe'?"
"I'm here, aren't I? What's got you so worried, anyway?"
"Just some things the admiral was saying, I guess," Lucas said. "I probably should have known better than to listen to him."
"Yeah, you should. He's got a history of stretching the truth," Bridger replied lightly. "What exactly did the admiral say, anyway?"
With that, he turned back to the stove and pulled whatever it was he was cooking off the burner—to Lucas, it looked like stir fry of some sort. However, Lucas could not miss the fact that Bridger hadn't exactly answered his question. In fact, the captain had not answered it at all, and worries rose again. He swallowed hard.
"He said you were the Project Manager," Lucas said, trying to keep his voice steady. "In charge of the civilians," he added.
"So I am. Something wrong with that? It saves the Navy an awful lot of time and money to have the lead designer as the Project Manager—I get to argue with myself when something costs too much, instead of fighting with someone else."
"Designer, project manager... but will you be the captain?" Lucas asked, finally cutting to the heart of the matter.
Bridger started slightly, turning back to face him. "Noyce told you I wasn't?" His slightly confused expression morphed into a scowl. "He's really riding for a fall this time."
"He didn't tell me you weren't, but he didn't tell me you were, either. Are you?" Lucas asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
He failed, of course.
"Of course I am, Lucas. I may not like war, but we don't only get to do what we want in life," Bridger replied. "Preserving the UEO is worth fighting for. When seaQuest commissions, I'll be in command of her."
He let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. "Good. I don't think I could have worked for anyone else."
"I'm complimented, I think." Bridger smiled. "So, how many strings did you get Admiral Noyce to pull so that you could replace Schafer?"
"Well, the summer session of OCS was full when I talked to him in April," Lucas replied, eyeing the stir fry hungrily.
Catching his glance, the captain pulled two plates out of the cupboard and started dishing the meat and vegetables on top of some rice. "Sit down," he said, gesturing at the table and handing one plate to Lucas. A small section of it was clear; the rest of it was covered in papers and schematics. He put a plate down in front of Lucas. "Beer?"
"Is it alcoholic?" Lucas asked, grinning as he sat down, careful not to disrupt the papers.
"Last I checked." Bridger handed him a Coors Light and sat down across from him with his own plate. He swept the papers aside with hardly a glance at them. "So, Bill got you into OCS. What else?"
"He made me go to a couple of schools, after," Lucas said. "And he made sure I would get assigned to seaQuest, of course."
"Oh, of course," was the chuckling response. "So you're my EWO, huh? Hell of a first job for you. I'll work you hard, you know."
"Oh yes, sir. Iron Pants Bridger is legendary at OCS," Lucas said, unable to resist the jab as he opened the beer.
Bridger almost spat out his beer, choking just as he took his first sip. "What?"
"That is your nickname, isn't it? I mean, some of the case studies they gave us about you, I'd expect you to be... well... taller..." he added innocently.
"I tried to keep that one off of seaQuest," the captain muttered, half under his breath, then shot Lucas a suspicious look. "Are you sure Bill didn't tell you about that? I'm sure that they've found someone better to talk about at OCS by now."
"That was the only reason I got a demerit the entire time I was at OCS, sir. I couldn't stop laughing when the lieutenant was going on and on about Iron Pants Bridger," Lucas said, chuckling a little even now at the memory.
"Oh, Lord." The older man seemed to slump in his chair. "Maybe someday I'll tell you about how I got that nickname. It wasn't nearly as interesting as people seem to think it should be."
Lucas grinned, digging in to his food. "I'll make sure the rest of the crew is there."
Bridger wagged a finger at him. "Don't even think about it, you." But the captain was smiling. A little.
"Is that an order, sir?" Lucas asked.
"Does it have to be?" Bridger countered. A moment passed in companionable silence before the captain continued, his voice no longer joking. "Lucas… You do know that the seaQuest I'm building isn't a science and research vessel, right? We're not reusing the design from seaQuest II, either…when the UEO hesitated to build a third one, I went back to the drawing board. The seaQuest you'll be serving on is a warship."
Lucas put his fork down, meeting the captain's gaze steadily. "I know seaQuest isn't going to be a science vessel again, sir. If she was, I probably wouldn't have bothered with joining the Navy. But I also know that I'm good at what I do, and the UEO needs all the help it can get right now. I've been watching the newscasts. I heard about Captain Ford's boat, and I heard about the boat Commander Hitchcock was on. If what I do can help them, can help you... I have to do it. Regardless of how I feel about war."
"You and me both, kiddo. You and me both."
Lucas smiled, relieved that the captain understood, before they both turned back to their dinner and the companionable silence. After a while, the conversation turned to topics other than the (almost) war, and soon Bridger was telling him about the new boat, until Lucas yawned three times in two minutes, and Bridger sent him off to the spare bedroom to catch some sleep.
A/N: Thanks so much to those of you who have reviewed so far! Sol (the co-author) and I really do appreciate the feedback. Things continue to come together in this chapter, though we will finally bring you to the boat in the next one, in which many old friends appear and Captain Ford on Atlantis faces an interesting challenge. In the meantime, please review!