Officer Of The Watch: Blackout Volume 1 (20 page)

You'd never be able to watch a DVD on the small tablet he was using now, but it was one of his most powerful tools.  He tapped another series of commands into the main operating system, and it began the process of factoring an enormously large fractal algorithm, displaying the graphed results as a screen saver of ever evolving geometric patterns.  He would lose two hours as the solution process could not be interrupted by any commands, and he would have to wait for it to complete, but in the meantime the system would be utterly secure against any attacks.

"Come in," Terry called.

The door opened and one of his senior team leaders stepped inside the room.  Terry recognized the man immediately as Marcus Attledge, an ambitious but principled manager.  He was dependable and got jobs done quickly and thoroughly.  Right now, though, his eyes were wide and his face a little pale.

"Sir," Marcus said as he came towards the desk, "the Chief Administrator of FEMA is on his way."

Terry nodded his head slowly, his face an unreadable mask.  "Well, Mr. Attledge, this facility is a key element in the nation's disaster response.  I suppose a visit from the Chief Administrator is to be expected.  When will he arrive?"

"Sir, he's landing now," Marcus said.  "The senior officer in the Tower radioed me to announce that the Chief Administrator's pilot had just radioed for clearance to land his helicopter.  All of the authentication codes checked out, so he had to give clearance."

Terry didn't curse, but he wanted to.

"Very well," he said after a moment, "tell Security that he is to be shown directly to my office.  You come inside and wait.  Leave the door open, but keep your mouth shut unless I tell you otherwise, got it?"

Marcus blinked and opened his mouth as if to say something, but Terry merely arched an eyebrow, so he closed it.  He swallowed hard and stepped over to the side of the office.  Terry closed all of the reference books but left them on the table.  He set his Colt pistol on top of them, the safety on and the barrel directed at the concrete wall to his left.  Marcus took one look at the pistol, swallowed hard, and looked like he wished he were elsewhere.  Terry didn't blame him; in fact, he wished the same thing.

Terry sat in his custom-made executive's chair and stared at the ceiling.  He idly twisted the thick, heavy Academy ring on his left ring finger.  He'd never married, other than the vows he took with the Navy, and so he wore the only wedding ring he had.  The style in '72 had been simple and elegant with a sky blue stone set in the antiqued gold.  Whenever he was deep in thought, he would twist that ring as his mind worked.  At the moment he was running through possible reactions and scenarios for how this meeting would proceed. 

He'd had this same reaction as a fighter pilot for the Navy just before a carrier launch.  He would sit for a few moments, twisting his ring as he ran through check lists and contingencies in his mind.  Then, the steam catapults would kick in, and he was slammed into the back of his seat.  The whole thing was over so fast, and he was in the air.  Once airborne, the world dropped away, and with it went all distractions.  In the sky, Terry was absolutely calm and focused on the mission; it was the waiting to launch that drove him nuts.

Terry caught the sound of footsteps echoing in the hall outside his office door.  He straightened his ring one last time and stood.  When the head of FEMA stepped through his door, he wanted them to be on equal footing, and standing as the Chief Administrator entered would have been too much a sign of subordination.  As the footsteps grew closer, Terry took a deep breath, and felt the nervousness and uncertainty fall away.  He clasped his hands easily in the front within easy reach of the pistol. 

Paul Jefferson, the Chief Administrator of FEMA, stepped into the office without being announced.  He wore an expertly tailored charcoal black suit with a pin-striped tie of red and blue.  He had perfectly combed black hair and a strong jaw line just shy of a dimpled chin.  His eyes took in the office as he walked slowly and confidently toward Terry.  He noticed the hand-carved cherry wood desk first and then the two espresso-colored leather chairs facing it.  There were no framed oil paintings, or delicate carpets, and the next thing he noticed was the pistol on the desk.  There was a momentary frown of his eyebrows, but Marcus drew a deeper reaction when he noticed the man standing against the wall. 

His smile never wavered.

"Senior Systems Administrator Price," Jefferson said, extending his right hand, "it is good to finally meet you."

Terry nodded and shook the hand.  "Thank you, Chief Administrator," he said, adopting the other's formality. 

The Chief Administrator sat, and so did Terry.  "Please, call me Paul," Jefferson said, and now his eyes went to the gun and stayed.  "Do you really think that's necessary?" he asked.

"Mr. Jefferson, if I'm not mistaken," Terry said, "just a few days ago, at least five nuclear weapons were detonated in an attack on the United States.  I don't know about you, but that .45 seems hardly enough, in my opinion."

"Fair enough," the other man's eyes narrowed slightly, but he let the matter drop.  "How have operations been proceeding here, Mr. Price?"

"Very well, Mr.  Jefferson," Terry said, "all things considered, of course.  Thanks to the report received by DHS, we were able to execute a full system dump and backup before the devices were detonated.  Our hardening and shielding were not penetrated in any way, and our power from the solar farm top-side was never even interrupted."

Jefferson nodded.  "It's good to hear some good news, finally," he said, adopting a somber expression.  "I understand from some of my own systems engineers, though, that they lost access to the database recently.  Is that normal?"

Terry smiled an easy smile.  "Yes sir," He replied instantly.  "Simply some unscheduled, but routine, maintenance."

Jefferson nodded slowly, a thoughtful frown just barely showing on his mouth and his eyebrows.  He steepled his fingers as he thought and was silent for a long moment before speaking.  "How can something be both unscheduled, and routine, Mr. Price?"

"Well, this is to address a direct issue with the system itself," Terry said easily, "but it is not a recurring issue, so it won't need to be executed again."

"I see," Jefferson said carefully.  "I'm afraid I need you to interrupt this maintenance.  My field directors need access to the information in those databases to perform their duties, Mr. Price.  I'm sure your security systems are adequate despite this
issue
that you are addressing."

"With all due respect, Mr. Jefferson," Terry said, "I don't take directives from you.  This is a Department of Defense facility operated by DOD staff and the military.  And while DOD assists and coordinates with your office during emergency response, we don't fall under your chain of command.  I am responsible to the DOD and the people, not you.  Sir."

There was a brief moment of stunned, icy silence.  Mr. Jefferson's smile was gone now and so were his other carefully crafted expressions.  His eyes were hard, and his jaw was set.  "I see," he said.

"Now that we have an understanding," Terry said calmly, "we can have a conversation, if you wish."

After a brief moment, Jefferson nodded.

"That will be all, Mr.  Attledge," Terry said.  "This is all classified and sealed, understand?"  Marcus indicated that it was, and Terry continued, "Very well.  You may go, and close the door on the way out."

Marcus left as quickly as he could without actually seeming to rush.  When the door had clicked closed, Terry turned his attention back to Jefferson.

"Mr. Price," the bureaucrat said in a stiff voice, "we really do need that information to do our job.  When can we expect to access it again?"

"Once the maintenance is complete," Terry said simply and truthfully.  "Until then, even I can't interrupt the process.  The system is designed to lock everyone and everything out while it repairs itself."

"I see," Mr. Jefferson said again, his frown deepening.

"Put yourself in my shoes, for a moment," Terry said, leaning forward slightly.  "You know the nation is under the most direct and devastating attack in our history, but you don't know who's doing it.  However, all of the nation's data...it's deepest and darkest secretes
...  everyone's
deepest and darkest secrets...  are all conveniently stored in four databases thanks to an early tip that we just happened to get in time to make the backups.  And then you discover a vulnerability in that system that threatens the whole thing.  What would
you
do?"

Mr. Jefferson’s expression was stony and dark.  "Protect the system," he replied.

Terry nodded.  "Precisely," he said, "and that's what I'm doing.  My duty to the people; protecting the system."

Jefferson frowned thoughtfully, but after a moment he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.  He looked as if he believed the two men were speaking about completely different things while using the same words.  Terry's replies were all too vague to be certain, though, and that hemmed Jefferson into a corner.  He couldn’t be the first to tip his hand, of that he was sure.

"Well, in any case," Jefferson said after the silence stretched uncomfortably, "as you said, when the maintenance is...complete...we will have access again."

"As you say," Terry replied, standing.  "Thank you for stopping by to check on us, Mr.  Jefferson.  But please, feel free to call next time so we can offer you a proper reception."

The dismissal was clear, and there was no way that Jefferson could ignore it without it being obvious that he was doing so.  After a brief hesitation, he stood and smiled in Terry’s direction.  Neither man extended his hand, so Jefferson turned to go.  When he reached the door and opened it, he paused and turned back, his smile back in place again.

"Thank you, Mr.  Price," Jefferson said, "for all of your hard work.  Keep up the good results.  I'm sure we'll be seeing much more of each other...soon."

"I look forward to it," Terry replied. 

Jefferson's smile never wavered, but his eyes bore holes across the space between them.  With a deep breath, though, the gaze softened, and the mask was complete again.  Jefferson turned, and was gone without another word.

Ch. 42

The Things I Seen

Joe stepped out onto the front porch.  The sun was low on the western horizon, and the shadow of the farmhouse stretched long and thin across the entire yard in front of him.  In the east, the sky was already turning the deep purple that is really the first sign of night creeping in on the last moments of the day. 

Beth stood against the railing, her back to him. 

"We're almost loaded," Joe said, "Look, I'm sorry, but—"

Beth shook her head and stuck one hand up without turning towards him. "I don't want to hear it, Joe.  Nothing you can say is going to make me understand, and I
don't
want to fight about it again."

Joe took a deep breath but didn't say anything for a long moment.  He wanted to go to her, yet experience had taught him better.  When her shoulders were set that stiffly, he was safer beyond arm's reach. 

"Don't you want to at least say goodbye?" Joe asked finally.

Beth swung around, her eyes narrow, and one finger leveled at him.  Joe barely contained a groan.

"
No
," Beth hissed.  "I want to yell at you some more.  I want to call you names.  I want to say a whole lot of nasty things to you, to be honest, but I most certainly do
not
want to say goodbye."

Joe stepped forward to wrap his arms around her.  "I love you," he whispered softly, "and I'll see you when I get back."

Beth sobbed into his shoulder, and squeezed hard.  "I love you too," she said. 

When the two separated, Beth's eyes were heavy with unshed tears.  She swallowed hard and stared into Joe's eyes for a moment.  Just when Joe was getting ready to say something, Beth squeezed his shoulders once, and before he could get any words out, she was gone.

Joe walked to the edge of the porch and gripped the cast iron railing hard.  This was the part he always had a problem with, walking out the door.  He knew it was part of the sacrifice that came with making certain commitments and putting on the uniform.  But there is a huge difference between knowing something and enduring it.

Joe was about to turn and go back into the house when Levy, Beth's father, stepped up to the railing.  Levy didn't say anything; he simply stood and gazed out at the darkening eastern horizon and the first few stars that were just beginning to show.  In all the years Joe had known him, he'd never known Levy to just come out and stare at the sky like that.

"I never told you about The War," Levy said suddenly, still looking up at the stars, "but then again, you never asked.  Most people do, you know.  Ask, I mean.  But not you."

Joe blinked but didn't know quite how to respond, so he simply nodded.

"I was nineteen when I signed the papers," Levy said.  "Wanted to go out and see the world...and kill some Nazis.  I reckon I got what I wanted, funny as that is to say.  I killed Nazis.  And boy, the things I seen."

Levy turned to face him in silence.  His brown Dickies were pressed with a sharp crease, and his blue and red flannel shirt was completely spotless and free of lint.  He'd spent all morning working in the garden before the baby arrived with Chris and Meg.  He’d spent almost all afternoon playing with Sam in the dirt, but you couldn't have guessed it by his appearance.

"There was this fella," Levy said.  "Big corn-fed boy from Nebraska.  Nice fella.  I met him when we were going through basic and he was in my unit all the way through.  Shipped over with us to England and wound up in my landing craft headed for Omaha Beach."

Levy shook his head, a far off look in his eyes.  "When we hit the shallows, you could hear the sand on the bottom of the boat.  That ramp went down, and all hell broke loose.  The boys in the front took it the worst.  Bullets flyin every way, and the floors all slick from guys getting sick on the way in, they just couldn't get away from it.  Me and one of the Sergeants, we started pushin the other fellas over the side into the surf.  Once we spread it out, it wasn't as bad, but it sure didn't get a whole lot better."