Dr. Damico sighed. Whenever he issued a briefing, the civilian leadership aboard the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan was included. As was typical, they had neglected to read his last report. He wondered why he bothered wasting the paper — a resource which, like much else, was finite. “We have to evacuate San Onofre and shut the power plant down, Senator.”
“Won’t evacuating the San Onofre plant cut off power to the DDCs?” The senators asked. “Thousands of people in Southern California depend on that energy! We can’t just shut the plant down.”
The Admiral’s anger was impossible to hide. Behind clenched teeth, he spoke with quiet rage to the statesman. “Unfortunately, Sir, you are correct. The San Diego DDCs and anyone else within several hundred miles will have their power shut off when San Onofre goes offline. This is an eventuality that has been included in your briefings for weeks now. Any suggestion from the civilian leadership as to how to avoid the situation would be most welcome. If you’re going to make suggestions, however, could you please bother to read your goddamn reports, educate yourselves on the finer points of the goddamn situation, and provide commentary two or three weeks prior to the same goddamn day I’m going to be issuing an order?”
A congressman who clearly missed the Admiral’s point and emboldened by his colleague’s interruption, replied, “We could keep the plant running indefinitely and add additional personnel to complement defenses.” The other statesmen at the table nodded in agreement. “It’s a nuclear power plant. It can provide power basically forever.”
“Leaving the San Onofre plant running was a calculated risk to begin with.” Dr. Damico replied, sensing the Admiral’s rage boiling over. “I made the recommendation based on our mainland evacuation efforts. Originally, the danger of shutting it down outweighed the danger of keeping it running. Now that we’ve gotten as many survivors and supplies out of Southern California as possible, however, it’s become a liability. Outside the fact that we do not have the ability to safely manage nuclear waste material, there is a high likelihood — indeed a probability that San Onofre will eventually succumb to a rogue civilian attack or be overwhelmed by WDs.” Dr. Damico had taken to using the military acronym lately.
“If that happens…” the Admiral took over explanation of the situation, his rage diminishing somewhat and the flush fading from his face, “not only will we lose equipment and personnel vital to re-establishing a land-based infrastructure, but the unmanned plant could meltdown. A SCRAM emergency shutdown is the last thing on the minds of civilian engineers and technicians busy defending themselves against throngs of flesh-craving monsters. A systematic shutdown of a nuclear reactor during a security breach is also out of the question. We don’t have the military resources to defend the plant against the WDs indefinitely, and the very last thing San Diego needs is an unmanned nuclear power plant meltdown.
“But…” A congressman attempted to interject.
The Admiral continued over the politician. “If we do not shut San Onofre down now, while we have staff in place, every survivor in Southern California currently locked in a life and death struggle with the WDs, will experience a certain and painful death. They can either lose power, or die of radiation poisoning — we’ve chosen the lesser of two evils. However, if the civilian leadership wishes, we can leave the San Onofre personnel and equipment in place. I will have a helicopter pilot escort you to San Onofre personally, so you can explain to those men and women who volunteered to keep the plant running under extreme circumstances that they will be left behind. You can also tell them that despite their abandonment, they will still need to keep the plant running as long as possible. Upon your return… if you return…” the Admiral chuckled menacingly, “you can further explain to the civilian and military personnel within this strike group that vital resources needed to re-establish mainland civilization are being used to provide power to a scattered and derelict collection of failing DDCs. Excellent idea, sirs. If only we had had your guidance at the strategy meeting three weeks ago.” The sarcasm dripped like venom from the Admiral’s tongue. “We are all lucky to have your foresight and leadership.”
“But…” the senator protested, “why do we have to abandon the plant? Are we going somewhere?”
The Admiral snatched the senator’s brief and jabbed the corner of the folder at the senator as he barked. “I swear to fucking God! I’m keeping this… it’s going in my bathroom where it will see more use when we run out of toilet paper in a couple of months.”
Dr. Damico could understand McMillan’s frustration, and it was little wonder that the political establishment had led the country and the world to this point. “We’re running out of food, sirs. We can’t stay here. The fleet is already stretched thin trying to feed the battle group, let alone the civilian fleet, which is almost entirely devoid of long-term food stores. Even drinkable water is in short supply. Things are going to get a lot worse before they get better, and if they are going to get better at all… we have to reestablish a mainland base that has area enough to farm.”
The politicians stared blankly at Dr. Damico. The possibility of running out of food had clearly not occurred to any of them. Now that it had, their slow, dull minds were considering how best to address it. It was difficult to blame them on this point, however. Dr. Damico knew that the vast majority of Americans did not know what it was to miss a meal. The infrastructure that supplied food to every corner of the country had disintegrated months ago, and stockpiles had only just begun to diminish, but those stockpiles were finite. Conflicts over food within the civilian fleet would eventually be inevitable.
“Haven’t you been paying attention to anything that’s been going on here?” Admiral McMillan shouted. “The damn Mexicans are hitting us whenever they can, and that’s costing us. Rogue civilians are hitting our mainland, and that’s costing us. Hell, who knows what China’s game plan is? WDs are just one of a shit-stack of problems we’re facing, and if you dumb-asses can’t make yourself useful…” The Admiral stopped short. He did not want to tempt himself with power. The men and women under his command would follow him to hell and back. After months of listening to the politicians’ perpetual incompetence, not one would blink an eye if the Admiral simply abolished the entire civilian leadership.
On the eve of his promotion to Secretary of Health and Human Services, Henry and the Admiral shared a scotch and a cigar. Lips loosed by alcohol, the Admiral shared some of his internal struggle with Henry.
“It would be unbelievably easy simply to slip into a military dictatorship — we’re on the cusp of that already,” he had said, “but I don’t want that power…” He had paused for a long while, letting Henry contemplate his words. “More than that, we have a legacy here. If I succumb to the temptations of power and slip into the mindset of every military dictator in history… that will be the real end of humanity. I will have succeeded in obliterating America in a way that WDs never could. Every leader, civilian or military, who comes after me, would carry on my legacy. If that happened, the New America would be nothing more than another wicked regime. It’s not enough to survive… America must endure.” The Admiral then turned to Henry with a laugh and a smile and slapped him on the shoulder. “You think fighting the undead is hard… try dealing with congress!”
It was during that conversation that Henry truly realized how lucky the fleet was to have the Admiral in command.
“Sorry I’m late,” the short balding form of Senator Allan Nostrum waddled onto the bridge. “There was a situation aboard the Sapphire Cruise Ship and my helicopter was delayed…” He looked up at the gathering, and at the admiral posturing as if he was about to smack someone. Henry Damico was visibly frustrated, the senators and congressmen sitting dumb-faced and confused. “San Onofre?” the Senator asked.