State of Alliance (12 page)

We turn left from a small, packed boulevard, heading downhill. There is a large building at the end of the block. Two white smokestacks tower into the air like giant matches, contrasting against the sky. Chris follows Devin’s vehicle around the corner, past a couple of shops, then we pull up to the curb and stop.

“Here we are,” Chris murmurs.

I wonder what we are in for now.

I open the passenger door and step outside. I look down a long street. There is a red cannery building on one side and what looks like a tourist shopping center on the other. A
Bubba Gump
restaurant sits on the left, abandoned, a smiling shrimp sitting there, waiting for customers that will never return.

“Tourist spot?” I say.

“Yep,” Chris adds.

I follow Chris to Devin’s Jeep. There is a strong United States Naval presence here. Patrols on the sidewalks, vehicles on the streets. Guards on top of every building, keeping the area secure.

“I think it’s safer now than it was before the EMP,” Chris comments.

“True story, bro,” Devin replies. “Come on, this way. The lookout’s in the aquarium.”

They follow the sidewalk, diving between two of the bigger buildings. I’m hit in the face with a burst of cold ocean air. It whips my hair in circles. It feels good, clean. We check in before entering through a couple of glass doors. It is dark here, and we bypass abandoned counters and ticket-kiosks.

“The aquarium, huh?” I say.

“The Monterey Bay Aquarium,” Devin replies. “World famous. Or at least it used to be. The people here…they’ve been able to keep a lot of the creatures alive, like the otters and the sardines…but some of the other stuff…after the EMP, a lot of things died. Couldn’t save everything.”

We enter a large room filled with benches. A giant, life-size sculpture of a whale hangs from the ceiling. To the right, a huge, triple-paned glass tank wraps
around the corner of the oversized hall. An otter happily floats on his back in the top of the tank, grasping a shellfish of some sort.

“How do they keep this place running?” I ask. “With all of the people that are dying, how can they spare water and food for animals?”

“Animals live in seawater,” Devin shrugs. “There’s no shortage of that. Most of the animals here have been released, anyway. There are a few that are kept alive because honestly, it keeps peoples’ hopes up. We can still do simple things like save otters, right?” Devin grins. “This place is run by the National Guard, and the animals are cared for by civilian volunteers, otherwise the animals left
would
be gone.”

I place my fingers on the glass and watch the otter from below. He’s very care-free. He looks like an aquatic teddy bear.

“Oh, to be an otter,” I mutter, only half-joking.

Devin and Chris share a knowing look and continue. The building is surprisingly crowded, brimming with militia and military activity. Soldiers are walking the halls. The aquarium gift shop has been stripped of all souvenirs. It is now a National Guard command post, manned by soldiers. The only things
that remain on the walls are the aquarium directories, indicating which levels contain sharks and which contain jellyfish.

I’m still confused as to why we’re here exactly, but I trust Devin and Chris, so I follow them through the first floor, climbing a long staircase, hitting the second level. This level is divided into several sectors, and I recognize officer’s uniforms and militia leaders. I spot Anita Vega, the representative from Mexico and the Commander of the militia group
Coyotes
. She is standing near a wide, open window that overlooks the bay. I see her talking to Uriah, Vera and Andrew.

“What are they doing here?” I ask, surprised.

“We’re all meeting here today,” Devin explains. “Omega ships aren’t something to be taken lightly. They could be carrying a cruise missile.”

I feel nauseated.

That’s all we need. Another bombing.

I approach the group and tap Uriah on the shoulder. He smiles warmly at me.

“We were worried about you,” he states.

“I was with Devin.”

“That was Chris’s guess.” Uriah looks at Chris, who nods once. “Did he tell you what’s going on?”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“We’re practically waiting for them to kick in the front door,” Vera spits, furious. “We should take out those ships
immediately
. That’s what my mother would do.”

“Your mother, Lieutenant Wright, is dead,” Anita replies, short and clipped. “And regardless of what she would have done, this is not a decision that will be made based on the memory of one woman. This is a decision that will be made in the Alliance, by an elected council of representatives.”

Vera flushes. She opens her mouth to say more, but Chris holds up a hand.

And, as always, Chris is the only person in the world Vera really listens to.

“What do we know about these ships?” Chris asks.

“They’re unidentified,” Anita replies. “They’re over the horizon and they haven’t penetrated the Naval ring around Monterey…
yet
. Air Force patrols found them. There are three. They seem to be waiting. Just sitting and waiting. It’s very frustrating.”

“They’re there for a reason,” Devin replies.

“Obviously,” Vera says. “They’re letting us know that they’re close.”

“But why?” Anita continues. “That, my friends, is the question. Up to this point, Omega hasn’t done anything that hasn’t been calculated. The EMP, the invasion. Everything has been planned so far in advance, we should know that there could be something behind these ships that’s a lot bigger than any of us think.”

I want to roll my eyes. Anita is merely stating the obvious.

We wouldn’t be meeting here today if we were underrating Omega.

Hope for the best, get ready for the crappy
.

That was my motto before the EMP, and it remains true today.

“There’s a Coast Guard Cutter that patrols the shoreline,” Devin says. “They’ve gone up the coast far enough north of Monterey that they’ve seen Omega troop movements on land. A couple of ships bringing new troops in.”

“Where is this happening?” I ask. “I thought the Alliance had secured the west coast.”

“Most of the west coast,” Anita corrects. “We don’t have the manpower to protect every square inch of territory. Besides, up until yesterday, California was
not a part of the Alliance’s responsibility. Today it is, and we will do what we can to push Omega out.”

There is a moment of silence. I look out the huge, picture windows facing the bay. I can see for miles, the blue of the ocean only slightly darker than the sky today. I don’t see the Omega ships, but the knowledge that they are out there, waiting, is disconcerting.

I spot Sophia out of the corner of my eye. She is smiling at Elle, who has Bravo in tow. Andrew is approaching them, and they are all talking, friendly.

I wish I could talk like that to Sophia again.

“What do we do in the meantime?” I ask, stating the obvious. “What’s the protocol? Do we take out the ships or wait to see what’s going to happen? To be completely honest, guys, I’d rather
not
wait for Omega to make the first move. When they do that, people die. Good people. We should be on offense, not defense.”

Anita slowly nods.

Chris tilts his head, the ghost of a smile on his face. I know he agrees with me.

“Come on, folks,” Devin announces. “The Coast Guard is calling.”

“Say hello to the Golden Shark,” Devin says, grinning.

We are standing at the end of a pier that juts into the water, bobbing with each swell of the sea. A Coast Guard cutter is here. It’s not very big – it’s built for speed and efficiency rather than size. It is slim and white. A cabin is perched up front. Windows surround the room, so that the captain can see in all directions.

“She’s pretty,” I comment.

There is a small crew aboard. The Coast Guard team wears bright orange jackets and dark blue pants with boots. They are mostly young men, with a couple of senior officers aboard.

Chris is here with me, as is Devin, Uriah, and Andrew.

Elle, Sophia, and Anita Vega are still in the aquarium.

“Can you take us out?” I ask, a thrill of excitement rushing through me. I have never been on a boat, and this seems like the perfect opportunity. “I’d like to see what’s going on out there.”

The Coast Guard probably has better things to do than take one Senator/Commander out in the bay. But
Chris shares a knowing glance with Devin, and the two nod at the same time.

“I think we can arrange that,” Devin replies.

“Really?”

“Really,” Chris replies. “You’ve got your security detachment and I think it would be good for you to see the bay and report your findings to the Alliance.”

I feel relieved. Chris is letting me go without him. Willingly.

He is trusting my instincts, trusting my ability to handle myself.

“Good,” I say. “Then let’s go out on the bay and see what we can see. I want to know where these Omega troop movements are happening.”

Devin steps onto the cutter. The Captain is a tall black man with a shaved head and glittering brown eyes. He is expressionless as Devin speaks to him, occasionally glancing at Chris and I.

“Cassidy,” Devin says. “This is Captain Adams. Captain, this is Commander Hart and Commander Young of the
Freedom Fighters
in the Central Valley.”

Adams salutes me.

“Welcome aboard, Commander Hart,” he says.

“Thank you, Captain,” I reply.

I look at Chris.

“Go back to the school,” I say. “I’ll take the cutter, tell you what I see on the coastline. Take Devin, Uriah and Andrew with you. I’ll just take the security detachment.”

He raises an eyebrow as if to argue the point, but thinks better of it.

“Okay,” he says at last, like the words are painful. “Be careful.”

I can tell by the expression on his face and the way that he is carrying his body that he wants to embrace me; kiss me, maybe. But he doesn’t because we are surrounded by people and now is definitely not the time.

“See you at base,” I tell Chris and Devin.

“See you, Commander,” Devin replies, winking.

Chris hesitates only a moment longer before leaving me, and that’s when I know that the suffocating tension between us has dissipated. We haven’t cleared up everything, but at least we are comfortable.

“Well, Captain,” I say. “Shall we?”

Captain Adams grins.

“We shall, Commander.”

Chapter Eleven

The salty ocean spray wets my hair and freezes my fingers, making it difficult to grasp the railing on the cutter. They call it a cutter for a reason, too. It slices through the water like a blade, bouncing and gliding and jarring all at once.

It is an entirely new sensation for me. I’ve been in planes, ridden horses in combat, gotten blown up inside of a Humvee on a battlefield…but being on a boat is different. It’s disorienting. The deck continually swells under my feet, making walking from one end of the vessel difficult when it is in motion.

A dramatic spray of water jets out behind us as we move through the cold bay, leaving a white, foamy trail of bubbles. There is a collection of rocks along the coastline up ahead, near the tip of the peninsula. Several sea lions are lounging, unconcerned with the war and everything around them. They just lie there, basking in the sunlight.

The coastline is a pencil-thin outline in the horizon. Monterey Bay is a crescent moon, and the buildings on the shoreline look like toy blocks from here.

“Commander Hart,” Captain Adams says. “Follow me.”

He is a tall, strapping man with broad shoulders. We climb the stairs to the cabin, a small compartment with a control panel and the ship’s wheel. There are windows on all sides of us, giving us a great view of the sea. I adjust the straps on my orange life jacket and assess my surroundings.

A young man with curly black hair is at the wheel, and there is another man here as well. They nod at us as we enter.

“The
Golden Shark
is capable of twenty-eight knots,” Captain Adams tells me, his voice loud and booming. “We’ve got a twenty-five millimeter machine gun
mount
and a fifty caliber machine gun. We’ve got the ability to survive on rough seas and loiter speed for eight hours.” Captain Adams folds his arms across his chest, seawater rolling down his jacket. “I’ve been up and down this coastline every day since the EMP, Commander. I wandered too far south one day and half of my crew were killed by enemy fire. Omega was coming in to Los Angeles at the time, and we barely made it out of there alive.” He shakes his head. “Since then, I haven’t seen any Omega activity this far north.
Until yesterday. Those ships off the coastline and the one ship I saw about forty miles up the shoreline here So, four ships total.”

“How many troops did you see?” I ask.

“Hard to say. Probably five hundred, at least on the shoreline.” He frowns. “They weren’t hiding their presence, either. They were being shipped onto the shoreline, dropped off like a special delivery. It was like they wanted us to know they were here.”

“How far out has Monterey been secured?” I say. “I know that the city itself is locked down pretty tight, but where does the ring of military defense stop?”

Captain Adams answers, “About twenty miles out. Past that, it’s still hostile territory, in my opinion. The Central Valley is pretty secure, but San Francisco and other cities up north on the Pacific Ocean are still having a hard time. Let’s hope California joining the Alliance changes that.”

“I hope so, too, Captain,” I say.

I really do.

We speed further up the coast, the cerulean blue of the sea spectacularly beautiful in the late morning sun.

“Did you live in Monterey?” I ask Captain Adams. “Before the EMP and the invasion, I mean?”

His eyes become sad, then.

“Yes,” he replies. “I did.”

And that’s it. I wonder how many people in his life have died.

I wonder if he was married, if he had children…

“This is where we saw them,” Captain Adams says, changing the conversation. “They moved inland. The thing that gets me, though, Commander…it’s like they removed all traces of their presence. They just showed up, then disappeared.”