Chapter Eleven;
Yes, Prime Minister

Pointedly ignoring the figure sitting beside him, Michael Flynn, commanding officer of the HMAS Canberra, looked back up at the Admiral standing before them all. But as usual, he couldn't really hear what was being said. His mind was elsewhere and had been since he'd been informed that he and his crew's best form of protection was down to a man that Mike wouldn't trust if it were only he, Price and Hitler trapped on a desert island. At least with Hitler you knew what you were dealing with. Price was a livewire, a man barely worth the oxygen he breathed in each day. But then, maybe Mike was biased; they had had an eventful history.

"In the wake of the recent attack on young Mister Packer, we have requested all celebrities move immediately from the conflict area and into holdings designed specifically for the use of the socially elit…"

Michael faded out again, not caring in the least whether celebrity homes were being torched. Everyone on the east side of Sydney were having their homes torched – what made a few 'socially elite' any different except the fact that people knew their names? But the PM and military cared, seemingly enough to design military-protected havens where the famous (and rich) could play away the hours Sydney crumbled into the ground. It was almost hilarious, save for the fact that it made the poor angrier and the rich bigger jerks. He'd had to deal already with one hack of a celebrity and didn't need to be burdened with any more. How Natalie Bassingthwaite had made her way into the military meeting was beyond Mike, but somehow she had. Now, bleating that her Sydney holiday home was burnt to the ground, she was amongst the other moneybags being helicoptered out of the danger zone and into paradise. Why she didn't just pack her bags and stiletto her way back to Melbourne amused Price when he'd seen her ushered away, but Mike just felt ill. So this was how society fell? In a mess of snobs, b-grade celebs, fire and military pandering to anyone with money…

Mike didn't notice the chairs scraping around him until Price shoved him in an effort to wake him up. He glanced up at the slightly older man. "What?"

"It's lunch you doosh. You been awake through all this?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe. But if I wasn't, did I miss anything important?"

Price liked that and laughed. "You're growing on me Mikey, you really are." Then, slapping Mike on the arm, he left. Mike sighed and followed him out.

***

Price shoved his hands into his pockets as he surveyed the 'buffet table' as it was known. If anyone could consider military rations and tinned coffee as a buffet, but maybe that was life in Sydney these days and they saved the fresh stuff for the sailors onboard? If that were true, he felt a little happier he'd be returning to his beloved Brisbane soon enough. He just had to deal with the two Army men walking towards him. He groaned softly. God he hated Army. One of the men stopped, caught up in a discussion with someone else, and Price smothered a smile but it still left him to deal with the Army man he now recognized to be Redgrave.

"Steven." Redgrave gave a big false smile and offered a hand. Price didn't remove his hands from his pockets, instead lowering his eyes to glare at Redgrave's hand until the man eventually gave up and dropped it. "Enjoying the buffet?"

"It's as thrilling as the meeting." Price returned with a badly acted impersonation of a happy person. Redgrave realised he wasn't dealing with your typical hard-nosed 'happy' person and gave up.

"Did you hear the new Prime Minister resigned? That's our fourth in 6 weeks. They need to do something about it. This country is a joke without a real leader and the voting system costs so much money."

Price dropped an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?" His façade gone, Price soon realised he didn't like the tone of Redgrave at all.

"Oh, nothing, you know. But I guess seeing as money is about as valuable as a deutschemark these days it doesn't really matter. In the grand scheme of things I think our real problem is our streets turning into a scene from 28 Days Later." He chuckled but stopped as Price gave him a cold, blank look. "28 Days Later? Danny Boyle? Zombies? You must know it, fantastic movie anyway, keep a look out for it."

Price saw past the act and lowered his voice. "Redgrave, why don't you stop trying to stick ten dollars worth of kangaroo shit into a five dollar bag and tell me what it is you meant."

Redgrave's eyes widened with surprise, but the Army man never faltered just giving Price a big smile for the sake of those around them and then dropping his voice too. "You know perfectly well what I meant Price. Look at this place," Redgrave waved a hand toward the door and Price followed with his eyes out to the city street. "Millions hiding, fighting or just generally burning shit down. A world that is this close to becoming major violence and the only thing keeping the lid on is the Army. And that's just here. You must know what it's like in the suburbs, up the coast. It's fucking shambles that is this close to going under. Do you honestly believe we can just sit around dealing with a political system fucked up to it's eyebrows – the whole fucking thing with Liberal and Labor, Greens, Democrats, fucking Inde-fucking-pendants. We are this close to going under." He held up two fingers, pinching them together.

"No," Price sighed. "You are this close to getting punched in the face." He turned away from Redgrave, unable to deal with anymore of his bullshit.

Redgrave called after him. "You know I'm right Captain."

"Oh please…" Price muttered.

"What did you do now?" A voice asked in front of Price and he looked up to find he'd made his way back to Mike.

Price just grinned. "Just making friends."

Mike frowned. "You don't know how to make friends."

Price laughed. "And yet I'm the one the Army man with a hellish plan wants to talk to." He walked away, but caught up in the gossip, Mike followed him from the hall and into the empty entranceway outside.

"What did he say?"

Price shrugged. "Just confirming the suspicions that the Army are borderline mad." His mocking tone fell. "Redgrave is hinting to the idea of martial law. Says that the voting system is flawed and the PM will only ever be an incompetent leader."

"So who does he want? His boss? Himself?"

"My bets are on himself. Either way we can be very thankful that the Army are tanking spectacularly and that people like Redgrave will soon be out of a job." Price glanced up through the doorway where he watched Redgrave begin a conversation with another very tired-looking Captain that Price didn't recognize. He was glancing everywhere; suggesting the nature of Redgrave's conversation was much like the one he had endured. Price shook his head and looked back at Mike to find he too was watching Redgrave with distrust. "Anyway, enough of him, let's get out of here. The food is horrible and the company is worse. You promised me a tour of the Canberra anyway."

Mike nodded slowly, seemingly too put out by the revelation by Redgrave to fight Price anymore. "Sure, let's roll." With one glance back at Redgrave, they left.