24/07/2024
Rose&Quail: Prelude to Invasion
Chapter 12
Hawaii’s North Shore - 2010
May 7th, 0600 hours. Admiral Leslie Chung turns on a lamp near his bed. His wife rolls over in bed as he prepares to enter the long, arduous day. The Hawaiian sun is still hiding behind the cover of night, far in the distance but still present awaiting to reveal itself when the clouds part. Leslie Chung is Chinese-American, second generation. If you look far back in time, you’d find that the Chung family worked on the vast network of railroads in the west. All of the hardships from the generations before him sit on his brow, which is perpetually furrowed. Admiral Chung pinches the bridge of his nose as he braces to stand up from bed, letting the morning begin.
Admiral Chung stands and takes a few groggy steps into the bathroom. He’s just above six feet tall with a tough, bulky chest on top of his dense torso. His steps feel graceful as he enters the marble and glass accented bathroom. The lights stay off. It’s not long after the sounds of a shower can be heard through the walls. Their four-bedroom house is on top of a hill with rich Koa wood stretching into all the rooms. His wife is still asleep, curled up in a bundle of white bedsheets. Aro, their only son, is awake in his room. Aro’s flourishing teenage values are represented in his room by posters of skateboarders, musicians and kaiju films. Aro is lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Uro wakes up instinctively around the time Leslie’s shower ends. Uro and Leslie have been married for thirty years and have their morning routine locked in telepathically. Uro reaches to her left to grab a prosthetic leg near their bed. She attaches it and begins her day like clockwork, Leslie begins to get dressed as Uro’s shower begins. He turns the light on for her as she steps into the deluxe looking shower, still heavy with steam and residual water from Leslie’s shower. Everyone in the Chung household speaks Mandarin.
Admiral Chung, “Do you want some espresso?”
Uro turns to him as she sets her metal prosthetic near the outside of the shower. The matte black metal prosthetic is removed just below her knee and makes no sound as Uro gently sets it on the glass of the shower. Half-asleep, she replies, “Sure.”
“Aro has practice this morning, so don’t give him any coffee.”
“I know. Please, don’t lecture me yet. I haven’t woken up. I’m still in dreamland.”
“Dreamland sounds nice.” He leans against the doorframe as he watches her shower, admiring her without letting his presence overflow beyond the border of their room and this room. “I had a very strange and interesting dream again. I’ve been seeing it for a while now. You know that writing your dreams down is a good way to remember them. That’s what all of my friends did during bootcamp. Our nightmares on base were so bad. Luckily one of our buddies had a way to get us hashish and that helped cool us over. Once I met you, I was able to dream again normally. But sometimes I see the same thing I saw back then.”
Uro doesn’t turn around, “And what was that?”
“Nothing. It’s usually nothing. Emptiness. There were rumors of soldiers going crazy back then. We never had it that bad like them though. At least my friends didn’t have any trouble like that. We had these dark visions of nothing. Just empty nothing. You can’t run or walk. You can’t change the scene. However, one thing in common we all experienced was that we could feel something there. That’s what happened last night. I felt that same thing. I wonder what it could be? What did you dream of last night?”
Uro pours shampoo into her sleek black hair, “I was in a beautiful place.”
“Lucky you.”
“There were purple hills and many beautiful streams. We should take Aro camping.”
“I don’t think he likes camping.”
“Ah, you’re right.”
Admiral Chung drifts away from the conversation casually. As he arrives in the kitchen, he passes Aro holding a steaming hot cup of coffee.
Aro nods to his dad nonchalantly, but Admiral Chung stops him. Aro’s third generation sensibilities flow out of him in a way that his father would call reckless.
Admiral Chung, “Hey. Why are you drinking that?”
Aro, around thirteen, speaks slightly rugged Mandarin. He smiles, “I need to wake up. I’m tired from studying all night. I didn’t get any sleep.”
“You didn’t get any sleep?”
“No.”
That won’t help you on the field. That won’t make you strong.”
Aro rolls his eyes and switches to English, “Dad, chill out. Please.”
Admiral Chung stiffens up but can’t get the words to reply. His strong, heavy stature is brought to a halt in the face of his rebellious son. Leslie is left looking disappointed, rather than angry. He’s no fool to this process. The bridge between him and his parents, and their generation, was wide as well. He drops his head sadly as he witnesses a glimpse of the divide growing once again. Despite growing up in paradise, Aro has absorbed many of the venomous characteristics of his peers and his father is struggling to digest what this will mean for their relationship as it grows. Leslie’s consciousness was as cloudy as the scene outside.
Aro, after a sip, “I don’t even finish the cup half the time. I’ll be fine, alright. It’s just soccer practice.” He steps into his room and the conversation comes to a halt. Admiral Chung takes a second for himself before he begins to make breakfast for him and Uro.
Their breakfast is a luscious blend of granola, yogurt, fruits and some light bites of poke on the side. From the stretch of windows in their living room, he can see the Pacific Ocean dancing all the way to the horizon. After preparing the meal for him and his wife, he begins to eat his portion, making his way to the window. Uro enters sometime later, fully dressed and prepared for her day at the ESF Administration building in Ewa Beach. The drive is a little long from their North Shore house, but the Chung’s have all elected privacy over convenience. Her fitted gray suit is a nice contrast to Leslie’s pressed and creased forest green military uniform. They enjoy eating across from each other as the sun rises to their side. The orange and red beams of light and warmth seep into the house a second at a time. The Earth turns and their day barrels forward in time.
Admiral Chung takes his last bite just as Uro takes hers. Although they got on this road at different points in time, they’ve arrived at the same destination at the very same time. For this small slice of time in the morning, their routines perfectly align. Then, Aro steps into the kitchen and takes a few small bites to eat, he’s dressed in a purple soccer uniform.
Admiral Chung smiles to Uro, “Was that the kind of purple you saw?”
Uro gives him a kiss on the cheek after collecting their plates and walking into the kitchen area, “Almost. I think the purple I saw was much lighter. It was much softer.”
Admiral Chung looks at the clock on the wall, it reads 0645 Hours. He grabs his keys and heads for the door, “I’m off to work. I’ll see you later today.”
0710 HOURS. Admiral Chung rounds a corner of a steep series of mountains near the water. His pristine black SUV slides through the morning fog like a stealth vehicle. Each move is calculated and perfect. Admiral Chung nears the exterior of Earth Space Force Mission Control, Unit 109. After a few security checkpoints, nods and badge swipes, he drives into a cavernous parking garage. The brisk North Shore air attempts to rattle his skin, but he shakes it off as he makes the walk from his car, through an underground garage into an elevator.
Inside, the elevator silently shuttles him up to the 20th floor. Admiral Chung steps out to a silver hallway. After passing another checkpoint, he enters the executive chambers of ESF Mission Control. This room is an effective and spacious hybrid of a café, meeting space, lounge and bar. Uro always jokes that it has a very forced secret agent atmosphere. Leslie only frequents the 20th floor to maintain his bonds with his taciturn colleagues that populate the leadership division of the ESF.
Admiral Chung enters the room and nods to a group of four white men seated in a semicircle. Near a window four times the size of his one at home, the group of men look out onto the Pacific Ocean as morning grows in front of them. The sun is shining, but a dark layer of clouds has been woven above everything. Even the ocean looks dark, which is the first of several things that Admiral Chung clocks while stepping to an instant coffee machine. He puts a cup near it and a small robotic barista whips him up a perfect coffee. Vice Admiral Richard Gibb, a mixed-race man in his thirties is inside an office space on the same floor. He’s talking to someone on the phone, but he makes an effort to wave and say hello to Admiral Chung through the glass.
Admiral Chung waves to Richard as he nears the table of four men. Three of them are all in their sixties and seventies. These are military officials; well-connected professionals who were around during the early days of the Earth Space Force. While they aren’t the founders, they have enough security clearance to have unlimited access to the 20th floor lounge, which is little more than a boy’s club or playhouse to them. One man among them is half their age. His long hair is draped over some of his face, obscuring a scar near his forehead. This is Parker Mathwood, now thirty-three, doing his best to rub shoulders with these gentlemen.
Parker acknowledges Admiral Chung as he approaches, just a few feet away. None of them stand. The man sitting across from Parker is facing away from Leslie. He turns to say hello with a modest nod. This is Chief Staff Captain Arnold Willis. He extends his right hand like a hook to shake Leslie’s, and he does. Chief Willis is a chubby looking man from Colorado. His puffy face is set atop a wide framed body. His jolly demeanor has kept his looks the youngest out of the older men present. It’s not uncommon to see Staff Captain Willis playing Santa at the annual ESF Employee Christmas party.
Staff Captain Willis, “Good to see ya, Chung.”
Parker, “Good morning, Admiral.”
Admiral Chung notices a bottle of Japanese whiskey sitting on the coffee table in the middle of their plush blue and white chairs.
The man on Parker’s right nods as he takes a ship of whiskey. This is Treasury Chief David Lure. He’s rail thin inside his green uniform. Chief Lure is rapidly aging, but doing his best to conceal it. This half-German, half-Irish swimmer was and is still considered one of the brightest minds in his field. His budgeting kept the ESF afloat during the earlier years when the US Government wasn’t so supportive and spending was rampant. His skin is drooping from years of stress and now, years of alcoholism. Sitting to his right is Doctor Allen McFayden. Dr. McFayden, unlike the other three men, is not an ESF employee, but nearly everyone in these circles knows or has heard of him.
Dr. McFadyen, in fact, has gained a legendary reputation as being one of the best doctors on the planet. This is attributed to the fact that, although he’s a well accomplished brain surgeon, researcher and author; he found a way to refine Sulnat into liquid form and reverse-engineer the compound to destroy many of the cells that cause mental corruption and Sulnat sickness. Dr. McFayden is not only the inventor of Refined Sulnat, he’s the unofficial father of S-crystal, the illicit drug version of the powerful compound. He’s worshiped in medical books and alleyways all the same. His reputation is incredibly controversial, and thus he tends to stay in small, exclusive circles like this.
Chief Lure, “Morning.”
Dr. McFayden, “Good morning, Admiral.”
Admiral Chung smirks, “So, I wasn’t mistaken. It is still morning.”
Parker offers him an empty glass, “They’re celebrating.”
Admiral Chung, “Celebrating what?”
Chief Willis smiles, “Numbers. Good numbers.”
Chief Lure smiles, “Recruit numbers are up. Profits are good.”
Admiral Chung looks to his Vice Admiral, who is finishing up his phone call and making his way out of the office, “And are those recruit numbers retaining? Are they advancing in our acceleration programs? How are the veterans doing?”
Chief Lure gets sour from the questions, “I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Admiral. I’d focus on your tower budget. With the rate that your engineers burn through Sulnat Cores, I’d say your sector was in trouble, but that’s just stating the obvious. It would be wise to switch titles now while you still can, before your career sinks along with the Turret Division as a whole.”
Admiral Chung replies, “Those turrets are why you can drink so freely this early in the morning. Keep that in mind while you search for the sunset, Chief.”
Vice Admiral Gibb walks up and greets Admiral Chung again, “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Gibb.”
“I need to speak with you, now.”
Moments later, Admiral Chung and Vice Admiral Gibb are heading down the elevator. Admiral Chung shakes off the Chief’s comments.
Vice Admiral Gibb, “Don’t let them get to you, sir.”
Admiral Chung smiles, “I won’t.” The elevator doors open. “Those old bastards will be dead soon enough. What’s on your mind?”
“Young Jong-dae has been calling all morning. He’s asking for permission to send out a distress signal to all the Nexus Towers in the Pacific.”
They enter basement level four. Inside is a series of computers, workstations and desks, all covered with young ESF soldiers making calculations and surveying data from the ocean. All of the cameras and monitors in this room feature one common entity: images, graphs, screens and readouts all relay information from the ocean.
Vice Admiral Gibb ushers Admiral Chung into the main office of this subterranean floor. This is Vice Admiral Gibb’s secondary office. He’s in charge of relaying all top secret, ocean-related data to Admiral Chung, who is in charge of defending the Pacific region. He isn’t in charge of the Turret Division himself, but he oversees the people that run it.
Vice Admiral Gibb closes the large steel door behind him, “He should be on the call waiting for you.”
Admiral Chung is still grasping the situation, “Young Jong-dae?”
“Yes. He says it’s important.”
Admiral Chung sits at the desk as Vice Admiral Gibb turns his computer monitor so both men can see the caller on the other side.
On the video call is Young Jong-dae. Young Jong-dae is a thirty-year-old Korean man. He’s of average size with a long tuft of black hair. He’s making the call from an office inside his Busan apartment. The space behind him is modest. Everything behind him looks neat and well organized. He adjusts his glasses as he waves to them through the screen. Admiral Chung and Richard speak to Young Jong-dae in Korean.
Young Jong-dae, “Hello!”
The two men respond in unison, “Hello.”
“Admiral, this is urgent. Have you been in touch with the Research and Development Division?”
Admiral Chung, “No, but we can get them on the line right away. What’s going on?”
“I’ve been getting several concerning readings over the last three hours. There’s a high level of Sulnat output appearing in the atmosphere above the Pacific Ocean. One of the sensors of a nearby Nexus Tower caught it around 0300 hours.”
Admiral Chung looks to Richard, “Call Saito, now.”
Richard nods as he ducks into a corner of the room to call head of the ESF Research and Development Division, Saito Wantantabe.
Admiral Chung continues his video call, “We’re on it. What’s happening?”
Young Jong-dae, “Honestly, I don’t know. I have no idea what this could mean, but I haven’t seen anything like this. It’s two unknowns on top of each other. The result is a very strange feeling.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you been having any strange dreams recently?”
“Yes. Actually, me and my wife both have.”
“And I’m sure you know that overexposure to even Refined Sulnat is toxic and can lead to hallucinations and distorted dreams. You know this, correct?”
“Yes.”
“These levels are concerning, but the best we can do is prepare a proper response so the public doesn’t panic. As long as the Nexus Towers are working, we should be ok.”
“I understand.”
“The biggest part of that might come down to upping the energy outputs on the Nexus Towers we have active. The ones near you are top priority now. How many are in your sector?”
“I’ll double check, but I’m pretty sure we have five Nexus Towers here. There’s probably around a hundred on the mainland.”
“Good.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
“I was thinking you could tell me. I’m just the scientist. I could easily activate the MESH Protocol now. Even as a test run it could be interesting to see how it works on full output.”
“How ready is the tech?”
“I’d estimate about ninety percent. Maybe more. It’s very powerful.”
“That’s good.”
“I do need to make some readjustments, though. The energy output is almost too high for certain vessels. Only specific Nexus Towers were designed with the proper titanium. Some of the lower-grade towers were manufactured really cheaply.”
“That’s my fault. I wasn’t aware Chief Lure has cut our budget without us knowing. That was an unacceptable oversight on my part. I apologize.”
“It’s fine, Admiral. As long as we have the Nexus Towers connected to the grid I designed, we’ll be able to handle whatever happens.”
“What do you think will happen? If you had to speculate.”
“If I had to make a guess, I don’t think I could come up with an answer. I need a filmmaker or someone creative. All I see are numbers. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do.”
“What do you think these readings could mean? If we’re speculating, of course.”
“I’m not sure, either. The answer could be in our dreams, possibly.”
“Dreams about what?”
Richard interrupts them in English, “Saito is heading up the elevator. He just so happened to be on his way here. Some of his equipment had abnormal readings as well. What do you think is going on?”
Admiral Chung replies in English, “I don’t know, but whatever it is, we need to be prepared.” Then, in Korean to Jong-dae, “Hold off on activating the MESH. It creates a security perimeter, correct?”
Young Jong-dae nods, “Yes. It creates an impenetrable dome around a thousand-mile radius of the Nexus Tower that activates it. Only one can be activated at a time, but it will keep anyone inside safe from anything.
Admiral Chung nods, “Let’s save that as a last resort. For now, just keep the network on standby just in case. We don’t want to cause a panic over nothing. Thank you, I’ll be in touch.”
“Got it. Stay safe you two. Goodbye!”
The video feed ends and Admiral Chung makes his way to the door. Admiral Chung looks like he’s in a rush now. He’s still unsure of the situation, but without a doubt, a clock is now ticking.
Admiral Chung walks out of the room and is followed by Vice Admiral Gibb, who looks more nervous as the heat raises in his body, “Do you think it could be a terrorist attack?”
Admiral Chung replies, “I haven’t ruled that out yet.”
They round the corner out of the area and get to the elevator. Out steps a thirty-year-old Saito Wantanabe, now head of R&D. Saito nods to both of them. His hair is now trimmed very low to his scalp, which has retained its oblong shape over the years. Saito looks weary and vigilant.
Saito, “Admiral, good to see you.”
Admiral Chung replies, “Yes. Let’s hope so. I’ve got some concerning news from Young Jong-dae, who is collaborating with the TD to make a new security measure.”
Saito thinks for a moment, then replies, “Are you going to activate the MESH?”
“No, it’s too early to tell what we’d be sheltering from. We could be locking ourselves in a dome with a terrorist faction, or a nuclear warhead. We must be patient and make the correct move.”
Vice Admiral Gibb chimes in as they walk down the hallway to another chamber, “Do you think this has anything to do with the data leaks?” This hallway leads to an access tunnel and private elevator.
Admiral Chung taps himself on the forehead, “Ah! How could I forget about that? Damn. Can you head back to my office? I left the latest report on the attack there.”
Saito is out of the loop, “The Vicelord breach?”
Admiral Chung replies, “Yes.”
“I knew that would snowball. R&D got hit the hardest and nobody listened.”
“He should have been terminated a long time ago. Are you aware that the ESF tried to hire him after the first two incidents? They let him look at our systems, which is why this attack was so in-depth. The ESF created this monster.”
Saito processes this as they near the private elevator. There is an ESF soldier there to do a security check. Admiral Chung and Saito both present badges and then get let in. Saito replies with a deadpan expression, “Well, let’s go hunt a monster.”
Inside, this freight elevator runs sideways through the massive ESF compound, instead of up and down the metallic tower that protrudes out of the mountain like a metal arm. This elevator opens up to a large bay where construction of various EFS Towers is taking place. On this floor are hundreds of ESF workers welding and preparing countless towering behemoths of security.
The average Earth Space Force Turret is about two stories tall and contains a rotating chamber at the top where an AI-directed sensor attacks incoming threats. The base of the turret is octagonal, with four massive support shafts going from the iron foundation up to the top. Along-side the sensor is a small chair for an operator. The machine operates on its own with the option for a human to enter and pilot it as well if the machinery malfunctions. The rotating chamber has two mounted guns armed with rockets.
The entire space is alive with the sounds of metal pounding and forming metal. A chorus of welding, yelling and alchemy echoes through the room. Admiral Chung and Saito walk up to the man running the floor. He’s a tall bald man in a greasy looking ESF jumpsuit. This is Turret Division Lead Leon Kent. He shakes both of their hands heavily. The time is 0740 hours.
Admiral Chung speaks to Leon very directly and loudly over the noise, “It’s looking good down here!”
Leon smiles back, “Thank you, Admiral. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve gotten some concerning readings from our friends in Korea. Something is going on with the ocean and we need you to mobilize for us. Just as a precaution. How soon can you get to Unit 213? That’s the location closest to the readings we’re worried about.”
Leon adjusts his posture, “213? That’s a quick bird away.”
Admiral Chung salutes him, “Head out, soldier! You’ll get further instruction upon arrival.”
Leon salutes them back and makes his way over to an ESF soldier in a golf cart. Leon barks an order at him and within minutes he’s being escorted to a helicopter pad at a nearby section. After about ten minutes, the rain begins to pick up on his right. The helicopter pilot manages to land safely just as the storm picks up. Leon walks into the ESF Outpost Unit 213 a few minutes shy of 0800 hours. As the doors close, the waters in the ocean begin to stir. As the storm brews heavier, a colorful Seam opens over the Pacific Ocean.
