Chuck vs. the Seventh Day, Chapter 3
CAST (in order of appearance):
Chuck Bartowski - Zachary Levi
Sarah Walker Bartowski - Yvonne Strahovski
Lt. Colonel John Casey - Adam Baldwin
February 14th, 2012
Chuck and Sarah had ended up leaving Casey's not too long after the flash the night before. Chuck had claimed he had a headache, which really wasn't entirely untrue.
Casey had not been pleased with the fact that they were just up and leaving, insisting that the Powers That Be needed to be notified. Sarah and Chuck had both disagreed with this assessment, Chuck reminding Casey that it was after midnight on the East Coast, and Sarah saying that with a week to go till the plan was supposed to be executed, it could wait a few hours.
But then had come the real fun part. Devin's cousin Bethany clearly didn't know the first thing about children, because she had let Katie, John, and Lisa all have soda – REGULAR, fully caffeinated soda.
And so, for the entire drive home to Studio City, John and Lisa were practically bouncing off the walls in the back of the Dodge – or at least, they would've been if they hadn't been in carseats. Sarah was not amused, and Chuck's headache just seemed to be getting worse.
However, by the time they got home, Sarah was so cranky that Chuck, despite his headache, volunteered to stay up with the kids until they fell asleep. Sarah had given him a grateful smile, and warned him not to stay up too late – "I have the feeling the next few days are going to be very interesting," she said.
John and Lisa were up till almost midnight, watching the mind-numbing crap known as Bob the Builder. "How can they watch this garbage?" Chuck muttered to himself.
John overheard him and turned an accusing eye on his father. "Ba mu be ta!" he replied angrily.
"I'm sorry, I don't speak fifteen month old," Chuck sighed.
Lisa, annoyed at being interrupted, also turned to her father. "Ba mu be fee!" she snapped. "La doo bay fa bu!"
John looked over at her – and actually NODDED, as if he understood his sister. "Seriously, what are the two of you saying to each other?"
John just smiled, and turned back to the television. Lisa actually rolled her eyes, and turned back as well.
"You are JUST like your mother sometimes," Chuck muttered.
Finally, just after midnight, both of the twins dozed off. Chuck stood up, picked them both up, and took them down the hallway to their bedroom. He gently laid John down in his crib, and then laid Lisa in hers.
He had suddenly lost the desire to sleep himself, though. The ECOMCON memo kept running itself through his head.
Chuck decided that he was going to get the whole thing written out. He was going to make himself flash on it until he had it all.
He sat down at the computer and fired up Microsoft Word. Once it was up, he looked down at the keyboard, typed out "ECOMCON" and looked back up at the screen.
And there it was again – the memo, the pictures of President Bush, the nuclear detonation, the criss-crossed may of the U.S., the piece of apple pie.
As soon as the last image disappeared, Chuck shook his head and started typing.
To the President:
The purpose of the Emergency Communications Control protocol is to restrict the flow of information across the country. All signals – land telephone, cellular telephone, radio, and Internet – can be stopped if necessary.
This program can be initiated from a specially designated ECOMCON command center. The council has recommended Fort Bliss, Texas, due to its central location and abundant space.
This protocol should only be used in an extreme emergency, or in the event of the interruption of the chain of command. These… these… these…
Chuck's mind went blank, and he sat there, the blinking cursor mocking him.
"Shit," he muttered. Sighing, he typed ECOMCON again, and looked up at it.
The images flashed by again, and as soon as they disappeared, he started typing again.
These events may cause a national panic, and while interruption of communication may in and of itself cause panic, it is likely to be less of a panic than the widespread dissemination of information regarding such an event.
Respectfully submitted,
Brigadier General Diane Beckman, National Security Council
"Huh," Chuck said, when he typed out that last part. "So General Beckman came up with this idea originally? I bet she has no idea what it's being used for now."
Then he decided it might not be a bad idea to have that operations order typed out as well. Bracing himself, he typed ECOMCON yet again and looked at it.
The images flashed by again, but when it reached the operations order, rather than flashing and disappearing, it froze. He furrowed his brow. He could see the computer monitor, but the op order seemed to be superimposed on it.
Chuck stared at the op order for a moment, and then looked toward the bottom of it. The op order began to slowly scroll down.
"This is a little freaky," he whispered. The Intersect had never done anything like this before. Looking to the top of the op order, he scrolled it back to the top, and began typing.
5 March 2008
From: Naval Field Section, FULCRUM
To: Commander, FULCRUM
Re: Intersect Failure and Operation ECOMCON
We have now failed four times to bring the Intersect under FULCRUM control and custody. There is no question that the Intersect database resides in the brain of Charles Bartowski of Los Angeles, California. However, the doggedness and tenacity of his handlers, Sarah Walker and John Casey, was unexpected. They have been relentless in their defense of Mr. Bartowski.
Losses with regard to the Intersect project have reached an unacceptable level, and as the President has now taken a personal interest in Mr. Bartowski's well-being, the council recommends that we suspend any further attempts to bring the Intersect under our control. With the imminent launch of the Beta Intersect, Mr. Bartowski may not be necessary to us. Given the inordinate amount of attention focused on him by the administration, it may be in our best interest to simply forget about him.
Regarding Operation ECOMCON, extensive studies have shown that with the entire communications network disabled, it would be entirely possible to remove the administration from office and replace the President with the military general officer of our choice. With the entire civilian administration sequestered at Mount Weather, they would have no real choice but to do whatever we said. While it is unlikely that this will ever be necessary, given President Bush's stance on all things military, and given that the Democratic Party is currently self-destructing, it would be wise to have this plan ready to go at a moment's notice.
Our person on the National Security Council has recommended implementation of ECOMCON as a national emergency protocol. The NSC has agreed wholeheartedly with this recommendation; obviously, they are unaware of the ulterior purpose of the ECOMCON protocol.
However, given the sensitivity of the ECOMCON protocol… protocol… protocol…
The operations order faded from Chuck's view. His head was pounding, but that wasn't what concerned him. He had been astonished to read the first two paragraphs – they were almost completely about him!
But four attempts to get the Intersect? Chuck counted in his head. One – Bryce's infiltration of the Greenbelt facility. Two – Tommy's attempt to remove him from the Buy More, when Bryce had shown up. Three – Lizzie's attempt to kidnap him off the helipad in downtown L.A.
So what was four?
Chuck tried to think of any attempts that he just somehow hadn't noticed. Then he looked at the date on the op-order.
March 5th, 2008.
The day after he had been extracted from the facility in Moab, Utah.
Chuck's eyes widened as he realized the ramifications. "No way," he whispered. "It couldn't possibly be!"
But it was just too much of a coincidence. General Beckman's signature on the NSC memo. Project Moab. The date on the op-order.
"God," Chuck breathed. He looked over at the clock. It was just after 4:00 AM.
He had been sitting there, ever so slowly transcribing the Fulcrum op-order, for nearly four hours.
"Holy crap!" he muttered. But he had to finish the job.
He typed ECOMCON one last time, and glanced up at it.
The flash took longer this time, and it was painful. There were also weird images mixed in with it – images that didn't belong. An image of a black jet, tail ablaze, screaming toward the Australian desert. An image of an ice cream truck exploding in front of Chuck's house. An image of Sarah's Porsche burning.
He shook his head, trying to shake off those rather disturbing images, and get back to the op-order. Finally, it reappeared, just as it had the first time.
Quickly, Chuck scrolled down to where he had stopped.
However, given the sensitivity of the ECOMCON protocol, it must never be executed except in the event of its actual use. An exercise could prove disastrous, both in that FULCRUM members might mistake it for the real thing, and in that it could be uncovered by the administration, effectively bringing an end to FULCRUM.
In the unlikely event that this must forward, we must ensure that the plan has support from a minimum of one Cabinet-level secretary, one Supreme Court justice, and one ranking Senator, so that there is an apparent agreement between the three branches of the government in this effort. Without this support, the ECOMCON protocol will be doomed to failure.
To reiterate, it is extraordinarily unlikely that the ECOMCON protocol will ever be executed. That is why it must remain dormant, with no exercises, unless the day comes when the plan must go forward.
Respectfully submitted…
And that's where the document faded. It didn't disappear – Chuck just couldn't read the end of it. He blinked, trying to make it appear, but no luck.
Chuck shook his head to clear the image. He felt like his brain was throbbing within his skull. He looked at the clock again – 6:30.
Chuck sighed. He had been up all night with no sleep. His head was killing him, and he had the most damning document of all time sitting in a Microsoft Word document in front of him.
But he had something he needed to do – something that, as far as he was concerned, preempted everything else. Saving the memo and the op order as "", he closed Word, and headed out to the garage.
Opening the large refrigerator in the garage, he moved aside the case of Heineken on the lower shelf, reached in, and retrieved the dozen long stem roses and the box of Godiva chocolates he had stashed there yesterday. Coup d'état afoot or no, it was still Valentine's Day, dammit.
Setting the roses and chocolates on his workbench, he opened his toolbox. He figured this was as safe a hiding place as any – Sarah kept all of her "tools" separate, and quite frankly, he didn't want to know what most of those tools were used for.
Reaching in, he withdrew the small paper-wrapped package. Unwrapping the paper towel he had put on it for protection, he pulled out a small blue box. Grabbing the roses and the chocolates, he detoured to the kitchen to grab a vase and fill it with water, and then headed for the master bedroom.
Sarah was still asleep, on her side, facing her nightstand. Perfect. Chuck set the vase on the nightstand, then placed the roses in it. He set the box of chocolates next to it, and then set the blue box in front of that. He carefully opened it to reveal the ring inside – a platinum band, with a ½ carat diamond set in the middle, sapphires on either side of it.
Chuck crossed to the other side of the bed, and carefully leaned over. Perfect again. It would be right in Sarah's line-of-sight when she opened her eyes. And it was about time for her to open her eyes.
Crawling into the bed carefully, so as not to wake her quite yet, he slowly slid under the covers and curled himself up behind her. Then, gently placing his hand on hers, he kissed her on the shoulder, on the neck, behind her ear – spots that were sure to bring her slowly from the land of sleep.
And within a few seconds, a "Mmmmm," escaped from her mouth, and a smile played across her lips. Her hand twisted around, her fingers intertwining themselves with Chuck's.
"Good morning," he whispered into her ear. Slowly, Sarah's eyes cracked open, and she took in the view on her nightstand.
"Oooh, that's pretty," she murmured sleepily. "Is it for me?"
He smiled. "Well, it won't fit on my hand."
That drew a quiet laugh from Sarah. She reached over to the nightstand, and retrieved the box. "That is shiny," she said.
Chuck's smile got a little bigger. "Shiny as in Firefly shiny or as in sparkly and shiny?"
"Little of both, probably."
With a laugh, he reached over her. Plucking the ring from its box, he took her right hand and slid it on to her ring finger.
"I definitely like," she whispered, finally rolling over to face him.
"Happy Valentine's Day," Chuck replied.
Sarah smiled. "The world could be going to hell in six days, but you still take the time out to make sure the little details of life get taken care of."
She lifted a hand to his face, and slowly drew a finger along his cheekbone. "That's why I love you so much."
Chuck smiled, and then Sarah rolled back over, grabbing the remote control for the television. It was part of her morning ritual to watch CNN each day.
The television snapped on, showing a live shot of an aircraft carrier. USS Dwight D. Eisenhower, the caption said. "We're onboard the USS Eisenhower," the reporter was saying. "The new commander for Combined Task Force 77 is arriving shortly. A veteran of both Iraq Wars, Commodore Forrest Saxon has a long and distinguished service record..."
Chuck's eyes glazed over upon hearing the name "Forrest Saxon". The op order scrolled itself in front of his eyes one more time.
That is why it must remain dormant, with no exercises, until the day comes when the plan must go forward.
Respectfully submitted,
Captain Forrest Saxon, Naval Field Section, FULCRUM