The End of the Beginning

William pressed the accelerator after the barriers lowered into the ground up the entry ramp of the garage. He slowed back down as he reached the main road, turning in the direction he was told by the cars GPS.

“Get that next distraction going again, Lewis,” he said.

“Already done, Captain.”

Hernandez was reviewing digital blueprints of the base hospital with a number of guardsmen on the hood of a patrol car outside the evacuating building when he heard a call come out over the cars radio.

“ISAF control room to Chief Hernandez, do you copy? ISAF control room to Chief Hernandez.”

Hernandez swung into the cars passenger seat and answered the call. “This is Hernandez, go ahead control room.” “Sir, we got another biohazard alarm going off. Anthrax again. This time in Umoja Tower.”

“Where exactly in the tower?”

“Seventh floor. Ten guardsmen units have been dispatched and two containment teams.”

“Begin evacuating the entire building. I’ll be over there in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have the guardsmen sent to obtain Captain Emerson called in yet?”

“No sir, but their patrol car did return to the garage briefly. It left seven minutes later. We have its ID code on file passing in and out of the gate.” “When was this?”

“Less than two minutes ago, sir.”

Hernandez squeezed the radio microphone so hard he cracked its plastic casing. He began biting his fingernails. “ID the drivers of that vehicle now! Send a unit to those guardsmen’s last identified location, immediately!” “A unit, sir? Now with these two alarms we’re kind of tight on - ”

“That’s an order Guardsman! And shutdown all base communications systems! I want this place silenced!” “All communications, sir? That’s not protocol - ”

“Do it!”

“I think it’s working, sir,” Nancy announced. “I haven’t seen an ISAF patrol for a while now.” “Yeah, me neither. We’re almost to the location Jake told us to go to.”

William turned onto a narrow two-lane access road plunging into the enormous field of shipping containers in the Port Section. No one was around as most of the Port Sections operations, especially container handling, were highly automated. The rows and rows of white and blue containers, stacked two, three, sometime four units high, seemed to stretch on forever. Most of the area wasn’t lit either. Robots and computers didn’t need visible light; instead most of the area was bathed in infrared emanating from inconspicuous poles every few hundred feet for security cameras.

“Uh-oh,” said Nancy.

“What?” William asked, anxiously.

“Hernandez… I think he is on to us with this whole distraction thing.”

“Why?”

“All communications are down.”

“Maybe it’s a technical glitch or something?”

“No. I should have been more specific with my words. Comms systems aren’t down sir they are off. Radio, internet, cell service. Someone shut them off. Base Tranquility has gone dark.” ...

“Colonel Morrison,” called a subgroup general from the front of the plane. “Colonel Morrison.” John stuck his head into the center isle and saw the subgroup general waving him down by the cockpit. The supersonic jet they were on wasn’t very large, accommodating thirty passengers at a time. All Base Tranquility brass and their aids were on it, meaning all subgroup generals, several colonels like John, and the absent Hammond. Each UNIRO base had one of these SAAC vehicles for quick administrative travel at speeds nearing Mach 2. Its design made almost no obnoxious sonic booms and traveled at just over 45,000 feet. John hated it.

“General,” said John, standing at attention.

“Colonel. At ease,” said the subgroup general standing next to the open cockpit door. “Colonel, when was the last time you were in contact with Base Tranquility?” “Umm, about an hour ago maybe. It was a spotty connection though. My call went dead almost immediately.” “Who was it with?” asked another subgroup general.

“Captain William Emerson, sir.”

“What did he say to you?”

“Honestly, I don’t know sirs. The connection was so bad I really couldn’t hear anything. I’m sorry.” “All nine UNIRO bases have entered Sequence Red due to the dam attack,” informed a colonel from Subgroup 4. “However, Base Tranquility went on a communications blackout for some reason several minutes ago. We don’t know why. No one can reach them. Chief Hernandez issued the blackout.” “Is that protocol?” asked John, confused.

“No. No such protocol for a full communications blackout exists,” said the colonel. “It’s as if the systems have literally been turned off.” “He must have good reason, sirs,” ensured John optimistically.

“Well, once we rendezvous with Base Commander Hammond in Anchorage we will try and find more answers,” said the subgroup general that had originally called John over.

“Speaking of the commander,” said the other subgroup general, “did she tell anyone why she ran off to Nome. That woman can be so damn cryptic sometimes. Did she tell you anything Colonel Morrison before she left?” John turned his head to avoid eye contact with the subgroup general. John was terrible at lying. He looked outside at the clouds racing by 10,000 feet below and at the lights of civilization 35,000 feet below that. He really hated flying.