Chapter Six

Author's Note: This fic takes a long time and I have to be "in the mood" to write this particular fic. Surprisingly my mood has been in just such a dark place as to be able to make some progress on this.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Tunnel 7, 21 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Danny did not seem to be getting any better. After the operation to repair his shattered skull and the hematoma, Danny still hadn't regained consciousness. They were lucky that they had gotten to him quickly that he hadn't had a hemorrhagic stroke. However, the pressure on the brain had caused atrophy of some blood vessels and the aftermath of the release of the pressure still hadn't caused his brain to fully correct the damage. For now, Danny Zhou was still in a coma and they were no further to finding out who did it.

"Tosh, we have no idea when Danny will come out of the coma or if he will come out." Dr. Raoul Mendez, head of the shelter trauma team said. "It all depends on how well he fights off the neurological damage and whether his brain reroutes the relays so that he can regain consciousness."

"So he may not ever come out of his coma?" Animal asked looking down at an ashen Danny who lay motionless in his bed. Dr. Raoul Mendez shook his head, his expression sorrowful.

"It may come to that." Was his only response.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Tom Boone's Quarters, 21 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"I want you to find out who the goddamned hell did this to Danny!" Boone snapped, his countenance ferocious. "I don't care if you have to take every damned occupant and line them up against a wall with a fucking Tucker Telephone attached to their privates. I wanna know who the hell did this and I wanted to know who…yesterday!"

"Goddamn it. Tom!" Animal exploded. "We do that, we're going to have a bloody insurrection! I'm just as fucking pissed off as you, but I'm not going to turn around and torture someone to get the information out of them. What we need is a person who will feed us information cunningly; maybe one of the cooks in the galley, who the hell knows…but we need to do this resourcefully so that they don't get the idea that we're on to them."

"OK, smart-guy, what do you suggest?" Tom retorted sarcastically as he looked around at Harm and Animal. "You have an idea how we can manage to get a mole into the population?"

"They'll talk; it's just that they won't if we're around. We need to keep those of us away from the rest of the population so that they have the space to start chattering amongst themselves and we've done that by taking over the armory. What we need is a mole and we need several to keep feeding us information so that we can eventually smoke the guy who did this to Danny out." Harm's eyes narrowed as he thought for a long moment. "And who less obvious than a cook? Most guys talk while they're shoveling food in their mouths. And cooks are always in the galley cooking food while the rotations come in and out. If we swing a few extra perks their way, then they might be likely to give up information and we'll find out what we need."

"So who's going to approach them? We're too obvious." Boone said. "We're the ones that the rest of the populace doesn't like."

"Bait and switch." Animal suggested, with an evil grin. "Haul a cook up here on the pretext that he's getting called on the carpet for something with regards to the food and then lay it out on the line for him that we want him to be a mole."

"In other words, make him a deal that he can't refuse?" Boone asked. Animal nodded smugly. "So you think you can manage to get him to deal cards?" Boone looked doubtful as he looked over at Harm. "What do you think about the whole thing?" he asked Harm.

"It's worth a shot. Tom. Otherwise we'll never smoke out the guy who did this to Danny."

"OK…so who is the likely candidate in the galley to approach?"

Ballistic Missile Submarine October Revolution; McMurdo Station, 22 weeks Post-Apocalypse.

"Captain Van Buren, you are welcome to McMurdo Station, comrade. What a mess we have found ourselves in." Captain Semyanov smiled. "I wonder if there is anyone else who has survived this exercise in stupidity."

"So far, Captain, we've found nobody else. And our communications array is still being affected by the radiation drifting in both hemispheres." Captain Van Buren replied to the Russian officer. "So far we have no idea whether anyone in either hemisphere other than ourselves have survived this nuclear exchange."

Captain Semyanov snorted. "Curse war…" he uttered a Soviet quote. "Leonid Brezhnev once said… Detente is a readiness to resolve differences and conflicts not by force, not by threats and sabre-rattling, but by peaceful means, at the conference table. It is a pity for the world that we did not listen to his recommendation."

Captain Van Buren had no ready response for that, only that he agreed entirely with Captain Semyanov's assessment of the situation.

"Sir!" Commander Turner approached Captain Van Buren. "There's a temperature drop coming courtesy of a polar jet stream headed our way. We're going to have to get our men under cover."

"Alright. Commander Turner. Do so quickly…inform the Russian crew as well that they need to get under cover. Captain Semyanov, I will have to return to my sub with my crew for the duration of this windstorm."

"Very well, Captain."

Freedom Bunker, Somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains, 22 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Saul is coughing up blood now." Rachel told Billy Joe. "He's dyin'; he can't keep anything down and everything's breakin' down inside him." Saul looked ashen, and Rachel had to clean him up several times because he couldn't keep anything inside him, not food, not water, not even waste.

"Ain't nothin' I can do…Rachel, I gotta keep the rest of us alive." Billy Joe replied as he looked at the rest of the group in the bunker. "How much food do we have left?"

"Enough to keep us for about another three months." Timmy replied looking over at Chet and Shorty. Lisa and Riley were cooking up some chicken soup from a can. "Don't tell Mel Saul's dyin'. She won't be able to take it."

"Radiation levels are still too high to go out safely. Dad." Patrick told Timmy. "When are we gonna be able to get out of here."

"We'll get outta here, son, when we get outta here, not a minute sooner." Timmy rounded on Patrick, his eyes flashing. "You understand. Out there is death and you step outta here, you step right into its jaws. Now's not the time to be going cabin feverish." Grabbing his son by the shoulders, Timmy shook him hard. "Don't you be thinkin' about makin' a break for it. Cause you'll contaminate the rest of us."

"Yeah, Dad. I'm stayin' right here. I don't wanna die." Patrick looked fearful, looking at the very edge of sanity in his father's eyes.

"We stay here till we run out of food, then we have to go out and start lookin'." Billy Joe replied as he looked over at Timmy. "We've got three months of food excluding Saul." He said coldly as he looked for any dissent. "Saul's dyin'. There ain't nothing I can do about that. It means one less mouth to feed and more food for the rest of us. We stay for two more months until we run down to one month of our supplies left then we start migrating west." Billy decided as he looked over at the group. "We stay here we perish."

"So where do we find more food that isn't contaminated by radiation?" Rachel asked doubtfully.

"I'm sure the forest and mountains have shielded the majority of the small towns from a lot of the fallout. We'll hunt through their convenience stores and see what they have…to add to our supplies and then we'll head southwest and then due west; avoidin' the big cities." Billy Joe pulled out a map and pointed to the Kanawha State Forest. "Here's where we are…here's the route we're going. We're going to stay clear of Lexington. It's big enough that it's gotten hit."

Australian High Command Nuclear Bunker, Alice Springs, Australia – 22 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Captain Brumby." Formerly Commander Mic Brumby still hadn't got used to his new rank. As a Navy Captain, he now wore four stripes– the one nearest the neck looping in a circle, promoted after he learned that the majority of RAAN High Command was now vaporized It differentiated the rank from the Seppos who wore straight stripes and an upside down star. "We've established communications with Cheyenne Mountain. Evidently they've survived. The Chinese landed quite a few good hard hits on us before we hit them back. Watson got pummeled. The Chinks saved a Dong Feng for us; bloody slant-eyes knew where to hit us. So our maritime warfare training school is radioactive rubble." Lieutenant Commander Colin Jones informed Brumby.

"Bloody hell…" swore Brumby as he looked over at the report. "Get them on the line. I want to know if the Seppos have managed to link up with any of their survivors. If they haven't got anything new to update, I don't wanna be pushing shit uphill with a rubber fork on a hot day." When the connection was made, Brumby asked. "Alice Springs, Cheyenne Mountain, have you got an update?"

"Alice Springs, Cheyenne Mountain, We know most of our bunkers survived. We're in communication with Mt. Storm and Crow Rock. Mt. Storm decided to go on their own." The response came soon enough. "Crow Rock is encased in radiation due to multiple nuke hits but they haven't been breached.

"Any chance we'll have trouble with Mount Storm?" Brumby asked.

"Negative…they just want to be left on their own for a while until they come to grips with the situation. So that's what we're doing."

"So what happens now?"

The reply from Cheyenne was sobering. "We wait out the radiation..."

"Did we wipe out all the nuclear weapons?" Brumby inquired, hoping the answer was 'yes' and hoping that the Americans had used up all their weapons as well as any other nuclear power.

"Negative. Mt. Storm has 36 special weapons still left in their armory. But they're all aircraft delivered, gravity, no MIRVs; no ICBMs."

"So they have control and bargaining power. That's just fucking great. Any left in your bunker?"

"Negative. We are command and control, no special weapons."

"God, Cheyenne, you got a rogue bunker that has nuclear weapons?" Brumby slapped his own forehead. "I sure hope this doesn't come back to bite ya in the ass."

"We're monitoring the situation, Alice Springs."

Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. Office Commanding Officer,

North American Aerospace Defense Command, 22 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Have we heard any thing as to how Mt. Storm intends to go?" General Stafford asked.

"Well, sir, we heard from RADM Boone, he intends to remain neutral for the time being. Right now they are in the control seat as they have thirty-six special weapons still remaining in their nuclear armory. Since we are command and control, we have nothing of the sort with which to retaliate if they launch an attack."

"What about Crow Rock."

"They only have SADMs which they would have to expose themselves to lethal radiation to egress from their shelter." Colonel Mitscher replied. "Of concern is the fact that Mt Storm has access to six Mod 11s in their arsenal of B-61s air-drop weapons; the rest being mod 4s." General Stafford's eyebrows went up in consternation. "Yes, sir. 340kt warhead yields on the six Mod 11 B-61s – it can do a lot of damage, sir even though they wouldn't be able to penetrate our blast doors."

"And Mt. Storm also has a subterranean air-base from which to conduct airborne operations." General Stafford said. "This is a dangerous situation, but you don't prod the bear if you don't have a means of reprisal." He wiped his brow with a handkerchief. "Right now, we wait to see how it goes."

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Armory; 22 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Harm looked worriedly at Animal when Animal sighed. "Tomorrow we call in Mike Hughes. According to Bud, that's one of the guys who can feed us information."

"He's a cook?"

"Yeah, one of the ones that we have in the galley." Animal replied as he reached for the file on the desk and handed it to Harm. "Here's his dossier."

"OK…I'll take a look." Harm replied as he looked over at the file looking for a hope that they would be able to find the person that had perpetrated the assault on Danny Zhou.

National Audiovisual Conservation Center, Culpeper, VA 22 weeks, Post-Apocalypse

The National Audiovisual Conservation Center in Culpeper, Virginia was not prepared for the nuclear holocaust. The conservation center was designed with storage of either monies or artwork and music in mind. Security cameras trained in on the workers in the vault and on the atrium. If anyone was alive to view the security cam footage that looped endlessly taping over what had been taped previously in eight- hour increments, they would have seen the security guards were found dead of radiation exposure out in the atrium. Even worse yet, would have been the sight of the few grisly remains of those in the vault, the survivors cannibalizing the bodies of those who had died and who had, in turn, died when that gruesome form of nourishment ran out. The vault had become a necropolis.

The radiation had yellow and withered the grass outside the reflecting pond, the trees suffering radiation burns causing the chlorophyll to dry up and in turn, destroying the tree from the inside out, leaving nothing but skeletal remains of what used to be an icon of nature. The wooden trellises remained intact from the radiation, a malignant reminder of formerly living architecture in the face of death. Culpeper, VA had been too far away from population centers to have received the full wrath of nuclear weapon bursts but had been subjected to radiation and fallout which had wreaked their damage upon whatever had been alive. Large regional airports were targets, subjected to near one megaton airbursts, low enough in altitude to do serious damage to runways and infrastructure, putting them out of commission.

In fact, the Russian and Chinese target strategy had been to eliminate all large runways that could support jet aircraft, thus the United States had been carpet-bombed with nuclear weapons to eliminate such eventualities as jet operable runways and functional energy centers such as electrical power stations, atomic reactors, and oil, natural gas and propane refineries. Trade centers such as seaports were also targeted by tactical nuclear weapons from submarines.

Likewise, the United States had responded in kind, targeting population centers to erode morale and military centers. All in all, this had resulted in the complete and utter annihilation of the Northern and much of the Southern Hemispheres which were now covered in lethal radiation, despite eroding exponentially, was still hazardous to life. Much of earth's species were eliminated; the only ones remaining were radiation resistant bacterium. Earth was a sterile, radioactive wasteland. Repopulation was a myth and would remain so for many tens of thousands of years on the surface of the earth. In the bunkers however, humanity struggled to survive.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Armory; 22 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Mike Hughes' view on the situation was frank and honest. He gave his viewpoint as he saw it. He agreed with Harm that they wouldn't survive if the situation with the Malcontents was allowed to continue and decided that he was willing to take steps to bring any suspicious activity to the attention of the Privileged. He was brought there on the pretext that something was wrong with the food that was being prepared and was ready to defend himself against false accusations but his defensiveness was defused when he was approached by Harm to ask him if he was willing to notify the Privileged of any attempts to sabotage and/or hurt those in charge. An insurrection was the last thing Mount Storm needed.

"I'll do it." Mike replied extending his hand to shake Harm's. "I'll keep a quiet eye out and let you know if there's anything going on. I'll report to Bud Roberts and he'll let you know."

"Good. We want everyone to survive and if everyone is to stay alive, we have to all be on the same page."

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Corridor 7, Unit 16, 22 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Are you stupid?!" Sarah Mackenzie held her K-Bar at the throat of Andrew Simone as she gave him a glare that she wished were lethal. "You now have the Privileged paranoid. They're already armed with side-arms, now they venture from their hidey-hole with submachine guns. Do you really want a confrontation with them that badly?"

Simone spat, "Better than hiding under rocks like a cockroach or letting the Privileged do with us as they will…"

"One of these days, you'll bring the wrath of the Privileged down on us and end our lives." Mackenzie uttered; her voice guttural and ominous, "And when you do…I hope I'm still around to see it when you're cut down like a rabid dog."

Simone smirked. "Are you frightened? Mackenzie? Do you really think they've caught on as to who cracked that chink's head like a watermelon? Right now the Privileged can't find their way out of a water-tank with a gaping hole; they're too busy fucking each other to care."

"Don't think so…" John Hambly, the Malcontents' leader replied…as he stepped into Unit 16. "We've heard scuttlebutt that the Privileged are looking for those responsible for the injury to their own. You were told to keep this on the down-low, and you fucked up." He snarled at Simone. "You fuck up one more time; I'll find a way to make you suck rads."

Simone shook off the hand holding him to the wall and batted the K-Bar aside. "That sounds like a threat." He squared his shoulders, muscles rippling and leaned forward to Hambly as he took a threatening step forward. "I don't give a shit about what the Privileged are doing…"

"Well, you'd better care about what attention you're bringing down on us." Mackenzie snapped back at Simone. "…because what you're doing will get us dead quicker than you can blink. Right now you're nothing but a rabid dog snapping at anything that moves."

John spun around and smashed a fist into Simone's face, sending the former Marine crashing to the ground. "…and you'd better hope and pray that your actions don't bring the Privileged's attention on us or I will slit your throat." Pulling his own combat knife, he held it in his hand, silently daring Simone to get up and challenge him.

"One of these days, I'm going to make you regret that…" Simone's face twisted into a feral smirk. Hambly's response was a grim stare as Simone gathered himself up and slunk out the door of the unit.

After the door closed behind Simone, Mackenzie said. "We're going to have trouble keeping him under leash. He's a ticking time-bomb and it's only a matter of time before he blows up and takes us all with him."

"So what do you suggest we do to defuse him?"

"Set him up for a fall…" Mackenzie replied. "It's going to mean that I'm going to have to talk to one of the Privileged to remove him, but that'll take the heat off the rest of us."

Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. Office Commanding Officer,

North American Aerospace Defense Command, 22 weeks Post-Apocalypse

General Stafford stood at the head of the conference table as he looked over at his staff. "What info have we got from the Russians and do they have any second strike capability?"

"Not from what we can see, sir." Deputy Commander, Lieutenant General Michel Parenteau, Royal Canadian Air Force, replied, "But we have a complete communications blackout, radiation storm arriving in sixty minutes." The prevailing jet stream was sending radiation around the globe interrupting any surviving communications and microwaving any living organism standing outside the bunker if there were any still alive.

"So the only way we know if the Russians still have active nuclear weapons is if one lands on our doorstep? Hell of a way to get intel." Stafford quipped.

Colonel Hanson looked at his commander, the deputy commander of NORAD/NORTHCOM, "Sir, the only stockpile that we believe is still active is the research that the Soviets did in the fifties. Everything else was used in the all or nothing strike – the bomb casings for the bomb known as Tsar Bomba or Kuz'kina Mat' are in museums that may or may not have been destroyed. Unfortunately, we don't know if they still have useable uranium. The Kuz'kina Mat' was a U-235 core with a lithium trigger with a suspected yield of over fifty megatons. They were considering testing one that was almost a hundred megatons in yield, but opted to go with the lower yield for the actual test in sixty-one." He paused for a long moment. "If they drag out the secondary weapon, it will more than likely be set for full yield of one hundred megatons and that would crack any of our bunkers like an egg."

Sharp indrawn breaths were audible around the table at the grim news. General Horner replied. "So Colonel, what do you suggest we do to prevent our demise from a hundred megaton yield weapon like that?"

"The only hope is that they haven't got any more pilots to man any surviving nuclear-capable bombers such as the Bear, because that's the only way that they'll get it over to us. It's a gravity bomb and is dropped from an aircraft. There's no way the Russians can fix it to a missile and launch it at us, if there are even any missiles left for them to fire at us."

"So, we don't know anything about any threats from overseas…" General Stafford commented. "We're blind to any threat that's still out there, other than rogue bunkers."

"Sir, all we know is that we've irradiated the entire Northern and Southern Hemispheres to the point where there isn't a single damned thing on this earth. I don't think the Russians will be retaliating any time soon. With any luck, they've gone back to living underground like moles…" Colonel Hanson replied. "…just like we are."

"How many of us are in this bunker?" General Stafford asked.

"We have at last count over twelve hundred people, sir."

"Do we have enough rations to feed all of them for an extended period of time?"

"Sir…our water supply is replenishable, our foodstocks are not. The farms that were supposed to be implemented so that we could grow food were axed in the the 1996 budget cuts. We will have to venture out to the surface in a year or risk starvation."

---

It goes without saying that when survival is threatened, struggles erupt between peoples, and unfortunate wars between nations result. ~Hideki Tojo

---

USS Birmingham SSBN-588, McMurdo Station, Antarctica, 23 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Captain Van Buren looked over at Commander Turner. "What are the readings on the Geiger Counter?"

"We're still holding steady at 400 millirems considering that the background radiation level is significantly higher with regards to UV-B radiation." Commander Turner replied as he assessed the gauge. "Our medical officer should be able to inform us as to what the health ramifications of the increased exposure to UV-B." Luckily the USS Birmingham's medical officer was on an onboard rotation when the war started, so she ended up staying on board.

Lieutenant Sandra Leighton was the onboard undersea medical officer who ended up in charge of health onboard the US Navy ballistic missile sub. When they had debarked at McMurdo, she also assisted Captain-Lieutenant Aleksey Golubev, the Chief Medical Officer on board the October Revolution to help the Russian sailors as well as did Golubev in return for the American sailors.

Every so often spikes of radiation from the north caused the sailors to have to retreat into the cover of their ships, but the good news was that the radiation was starting to lessen 23 weeks post-nuclear war. Perhaps the Antarctic would create an oasis from the wastelands that were the Northern and upper Southern hemispheres.

"Are there any signs that the radiation is receding?" Captain Van Buren asked.

"We've noticed a lessening in the radiation counts." Commander Turner responded pointing to the radiation reading charts. "It's a good sign, but I'm wary still…"

"How are the rations over at the greenhouses at the station?"

"We're doing alright, there was a good supply of seeds from the greenhouses that weren't contaminated by excessive amounts of radiation so we've started them growing. The greenhouses are warm so that the growing time isn't excessive. The UV-B radiation is a concern though, at least that's the impression that I got from the officer in charge of greenhouses. The main concern is the two and a half degree rise in temperature. That could start melting the polar ice-cap and cause significant ice sheet melting." Turner looked at his commanding officer – the concern in his tone of voice alerting the captain to a potential danger.

"If there are any structures currently built on the ice-sheet we will have to look at alternatives. There is no current topographical map indicating where dry land is on the Antarctic continent, is there?"

"Not readily available, sir."

"So I guess we're just like Hillary, having to rely by the seat of our pants to figure out the safest locations on this continent." Van Buren stated scratching his chin in a gesture of contemplation.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Armory; 23 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Bud walked over to Harm. "I got something. A note passed along to me from Mackenzie." He said shortly. "I wasn't sure if this was legit, but she said it was before she slipped back into the hallway. "She said something about some guy doing in Danny…and that she knew the name of the guy who did it."

Harm looked sceptical. Mac had been suspiciously absent for the past four months since they had gotten to the shelter and had ostracized them. Vicious scuttlebutt had put her with the Malcontents and as much as he didn't want to believe it, he also didn't trust her. Too many lives were at stake. "Is this legitimate?"

Bud still held out a sense of optimism – he wanted to believe that Mac hadn't gone to the dark side and thrown her lot in with the Malcontents however, the opinion of the rest of the Privileged was that Mac was a traitor and not to be trusted. But the information and the name was too important to be disregarded. "She said it was…"

"We'll check it out…" Harm nodded at Bud. "Go see Harriet and see how she's holding out."

"Sure thing, sir. I'll do that, nothing better to do in this hole." Harm hoped that his friend would keep his optimistic outlook no matter what the situation devolved to in this bunker.

He notified Animal and took the note to Tom Boone.

"Can you trust her?" Tom asked when the three of them were together. "She cracked like a bad egg when the bombs went off." His tone expressed just exactly what sort of person he thought Mac was.

"Right now…" Harm replied. "I don't see that we have much choice in the matter. If we don't find this guy now, it could be any one of us that gets it next. Danny doesn't look like he's going to come out of his coma any time soon; his catatonic state could be permanent and if this is the guy that did it, he needs to pay for it."

"The guy's a psychopath, Tom." Animal interjected. "You remove psychopaths from the gene pool."

"I got no problems with removing them from the gene-pool, Animal. I just want to remove the right guy. If we get the wrong guy, the same problems continue. If we get the instigator, then the problems stop."

"I say we take him into custody…" Harm insisted.

"I agree." Animal agreed with Harm's assessment of the situation.

"Concur." Tom assented.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Unit 68, 23 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Hold yer damned horses, I'm comin' to the door…Who the hell is it?" Simone snarled as he got to the door. "You'd better be coming to tell me something important." He was hurled back three feet knocked to the floor as the door imploded inwards from a heavy kick. "What the fu-"

"Andrew Simone, you are under arrest…for the attempted murder of Danny Zhou." Animal uttered, holding a MP5, it's muzzle trained on the prone torso of Simone.

"What the fu-" Simone didn't get more than two complete words out as Harm leaned forward and smashed a sizeable fist into Simone's face knocking him unconscious. Between Harm, Animal and three others they dragged the unconscious ex-Marine back to what passed for the brig – which wasn't too far from the armory.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Brig Unit, 24 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Have you anything to say for yourself?" Harm asked the burly ex-Marine.

"Nope, haven't got any regrets. It would have been nice to take each and every one of you smug bastards down."

"Who are your conspirators." Harm asked. "We know there's more than just you."

"I ain't talkin'. Navy."

"You know the penalty for attempted murder in this situation is death?" Harm glowered at the ex-Marine ominously. "You think Boone is going to shy away from imposing the death penalty on you after what you did to Danny?"

"Like I care…" Simone's response was flippant but his mind reeled; the punishment could be a slow death from starvation, radiation exposure from banishment out of the shelter or whatever sort of punishment could Boone improvise; and his legs trembled.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Cafeteria, 24 weeks Post-Apocalypse

The judgement was held in the cafeteria because Boone wanted to make a statement out of the judgement. He wanted to ensure that every single person in the bunker knew what would happen to them if they committed such a heinous act again.

Simone was dragged into the room chained and bound.

"This is a summary judgement." Boone said, his demeanor dark and forbidding, he was separated from the cafeteria by means of a video camera and a large-screen TV mounted in the cafeteria. "I have read the evidence provided and hereby make this judgement. You, Andrew Simone, for the crime of attempted murder of Daniel Zhou by means of bludgeoning, will be sentenced to death by exposure. You will undergo the same bludgeoning that you inflicted on Daniel Zhou and you will be cast out into the elements to fend for yourself for the remainder of your days on this planet. Whether you live or die will be by your own hands. But you will no longer be our problem. May God have mercy on your soul!"

Simone paled visibly and nearly crumpled but was held upright by two armed guards. Shackled, he could not resist when he was struck hard by a pipe in the head. Bleeding from his nostrils he was guided to the main blast door, by two rifle-armed men in radiation suits and cast out, screaming in protest, into the elements. The blast door was swiftly shut before Simone could rush back in. The silence was ominous and the judgement was clear. Boone would not be defied.

Chapter Five

Author's Note: Let me just say that the research in this fic - Radiation decay, Geiger Counters (counts per minute - what makes a lethal radiation dose) etc etc. etc... is driving me slowly INSANE! Psychological trauma after a traumatic event such as this nuclear holocaust: How much background radiation can you get from the reactor core of a nuclear ballistic missile submarine; how much radiation seepage can you get from a nuclear warhead - you name it. I'm researching it.

Just for your information: The real USS Birmingham is designated SSN-695 and is a Los Angeles class SSN (attack sub not a boomer) and the Ohio class boomers are designated SSBN-7## as opposed to 5##. The SSBN Birmingham is fictitious – much like the Seahawk…so any real Navy personnel, bear with me. As you know, I'm a civvie puke.

Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Cheyenne Mountain, Wyoming. Office Commanding Officer,

North American Aerospace Defense Command, 18 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Mr. Secretary, it appears that Mt. Storm has declared independence; we haven't heard anything out of them since our last communiqué almost six weeks ago." General Stafford stated to the waiting SECNAV. "I do not know what their plans are. Nor am I aware of their intent, whether they plan to ally with us; to be hostile to the North American Alliance, or if they plan to be neutral. Sir, are you the ranking member of the leadership? Sir?" Stafford wanted clarification.

"It appears that I am." Former Secretary of the Navy, Edward Sheffield assured, his voice still a bit shaky after the stress of the preceding weeks. "My Chief of Staff. Commander Tracy Manetti is here as well. The Joint Chiefs were relocated here and are still alive. But there are no ranking politicians. Most were caught unawares. Can you tell me exactly what the leadership is at Cheyenne?"

"Well, sir, it is three generals and a number of O-6 and O-5s, these are a combination of the services: Air Force, Navy, Marine Corps and Army. We will give you the exact number when we are able to make a breakdown of the chain of command." Stafford replied looking over at his staff who realized this was a task that the general had just given them.

"Very well. I await the information when you are able to." the radio crackled; the communication from Crow Rock was breaking up due to fluctuations in the radiation and weather. As far as they were concerned, the radio comms interference was a major sign that all was still not ripe for their departure from Cheyenne Mountain. General Stafford nodded as he gave the signal for the radio tech to cut comms before there was a complete breakdown in communications.

"Alright, people. Looks like the radiation is affecting comms. We're stuck in here for the foreseeable future. We'll have to start making some hard decisions on food stocks." Stafford indicated to his staff. "I want to know what is crucial. Get the medical staff doing psychological profiles and physical evaluations. We are going to have to switch to survival mode to get through the next few years. Radiological. I want accurate rad-counts every three hours on the hour. Let's get on it, people."

"Yes sir!" was his staff's response.

General Stafford looked over at General Horner. "It appears that our former SecNAV is our de facto leader of the North American Alliance." The sense of relief was palpable amongst those in the room. At least they had someone whom they could take orders from. "He's the only surviving political leader that we have at the very moment. Others could pop up from other vaults, but unfortunately, at the moment. Crow Rock is all that we have communications with. BMDCOM is currently down at the moment so all our ballistic missile subs are essentially without comms. Gentlemen, Ladies…we are essentially cut off from the rest of our people. We are going it alone and we have no assistance from anyone else at least conceivably until such time as radiation levels go down to a point where egress from the shelter is possible."

General Horner continued as Stafford paused. "Colonel Mitscher, do you have any thoughts?" he asked.

Colonel Mitscher, their radiological expert stated. "Technically, scientists have stated that it is possible for people to work outdoors 2 weeks post-Apocalypse without too much problem for a few hours a day. As quoted in the report: Within two weeks after an attack the occupants of most shelters could safely stop using them, or could work outside the shelters for an increasing number of hours each day. Exceptions would be in areas of extremely heavy fallout such as might occur downwind from important targets attacked with many weapons, especially missile sites and very large cities. To know when to come out safely, occupants either would need a reliable fallout meter to measure the changing radiation dangers, or must receive information based on measurements made nearby with a reliable instrument. We were attacked by several large nuclear weapons measuring in the low mega tonnage yield, so thus we are playing it safe and staying in-doors in shelter for at least a full year until the surrounding radiation is such that we do not mistakenly take a lethal dosage of radiation while outdoors. This will not help our situation if we incapacitate large numbers of our people with radiation sickness. We have enough supplies to last out the radiation in the shelter for at least a year."

"Colonel Murdoch…" General Horner asked. "What sort of psychological traumas should we be aware of in the shelter population?" The unsaid question was what sort of nut jobs could we expect to have crack in the face of this nuclear war?

Colonel Joanna Murdoch, Air Force medical officer and clinical physician, as well as psychological specialist, stated. "Well, The primary psychological abnormality which develops in severe stress or disaster situations is a transient, fluid state of emotional disruption. This occurs when individuals cannot cope with the danger presented to them by their environment. Its major features are fear and the results therefrom. The fear develops largely from the individual's inability to make meaningful decisions or initiate purposeful actions; and, as a result, even minor decisions become difficult to make. A vicious circle of fear-inaction-fear may ensue, and the individual involved may become ineffective. This may vary in degree all the way from very mild impairment of effectiveness to complete helplessness. Panic, defined as frantic, irrational behavior associated with real or supposed trapping, probably would be rare, since it has been found to be rare in other disaster situations. Precipitous flight with direction and purpose is not panic and should be considered a psychologically useful and practical response to the situation." She paused for a long moment while that information took the time to sink in to the people in the briefing room. "The characteristic disturbances which would occur include: stunned mute behavior, uncontrolled flight, tearful helplessness, apathetic depression, inappropriate activity, increased tension, or preoccupation with somatic representations. These disturbances can last for minutes, hours, days, or sometimes weeks. Longer term reactions may include phobias, survivor guilt, and psychosomatic symptoms. Fortunately, patients with the milder and shorter disturbances are in the majority. The survivor's guilt can be allayed by sympathetic responses. Phobias and psychosomatic symptoms may take more time and actual psychological therapy to counter. Inappropriate activity could be a combination of psychoses related mental illnesses or inappropriate sexual activity or others along the DSMIV spectrum (that is the Psychiatric Disorders. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorder, Fourth Edition) classification."

"Would you classify that certain individuals could be a danger to their shelter-mates?" Lieutenant Commander Beth Hawkes inquired cautiously.

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander. The potential psychoses that could result from this traumatic event can range from schizophrenia all the way to psychopathic behavior. In those cases strict removal from the rest of the shelter occupants is an absolute necessity." Col. Murdoch indicated.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Corridor 7, Unit 16, 19 weeks Post-Apocalypse

She quietly read a book as she awaited Hambly and Mauch. They had been planning a raid on the water reclamation facility for a few days. But it would be a few weeks still before they put the plan into action. Tossing a few liters of soap into the water should cause upset stomachs but not poison the entire crew…and it would cause enough people to sicken to throw the leadership into chaos. Killing people would provoke a lethal response from the leadership; however a non-lethal attack would cause disarray and a lessening of faith in the current people leading the group, which was their objective all-along.

So if that was their objective, why were they waiting?

They were gauging the reaction of the people right now. Right now the shelter occupants not Privileged were disgruntled, but wouldn't tie the attack of their water supply to the vulnerability of their leadership. Whereas, given a few weeks for discontent to ferment, the reaction would be that much more volatile. But how could they throw in a few kinks of their own to make the discontent more virulent?

Possibly a few skeptical words here and their on the ability of their current leadership to effectively manage things? Sow discontent and sabotage the reputation of their leadership – that was the handbook on anarchy. She smiled to herself. Now she had a plan.

USS Birmingham SSBN-588, Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, 19 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Commander Turner. What's the radiation readings?"

"According to the meter, it's at a steady two hundred fifty counts per minute. It's elevated but we need to take directional readings. But certainly a better count than it was last week," Sturgis replied as he double-checked the Geiger counter readings.

"Five more minutes maximum at periscope depth, Commander, and then we dive for safer waters." Captain Van Buren replied. They were still headed directly south and their estimated time of arrival at the base would be within the following week. They were a nuclear sub, but still nursing their energy levels, was a matter of safety precaution. Their rations in less than four weeks would be precipitously low, so they had to get to McMurdo if they were going to survive.

But the crew had faith in the direction of Captain Van Buren and they would move heaven and earth to do what they had to do to get to Antarctica and the possibility of safety there.

"If it drops below 70 counts per minute, Commander." Captain Van Buren stated. "Then we know we're safe. So when we reach McMurdo Station, we take a radiation count before we set foot on the continent."

"Agreed, sir." Commander Turner stated.

Freedom Bunker, Somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains, 19 weeks Post-Apocalypse.

Rachel was looking through the map that Billy Joe had brought in the bunker before the bombs dropped. Their personal radiation counter was showing that the levels of radiation that they were going through were less than they were before. Saul was showing a few signs of radiation sickness though the signs were mild – at 19 weeks, he was showing signs of weakness and fatigue, coupled with nausea and vomiting. This was combated by his drinking lots of water to rehydrate him. This wasn't a government bunker and the radiation seepage was more than what it would have been in a military grade bunker which could potentially be cut right down to zero with their four foot thick blast-doors.

Their rations were getting low with the numbers of people in their shelter and it was only a matter of time before they had to take their chances outside of the shelter. By this time, since they were in the mountains, they could conceivably exit the shelter for short periods of time, though watching the radiation Geiger counter they had. There had been two nuclear detonations at Harrisburg: one taking out the regional airport, one taking out the municipal airport. In fact anything with a runway was a nuclear target and the resultant radiation from those two blasts were what made Saul ill. But they considered themselves lucky – it could have been much worse. They could have been near a high-value target such as a large city. Then they would have been dead. Their shelter would not have been of any value if a five-megaton nuclear weapon such as the ones that hit Washington DC had landed near them.

Ballistic Missile Submarine October Revolution; McMurdo Station 19 Weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Comrade Captain" the helmsman said. "All engines full-stop." The big ballistic missile submarine tied up at the deserted dock.

"Radiation count." Captain Semyanov barked out.

"It is 73 counts per minute." One of the seamen stated as he held a geiger counter to measure the count on the doc itself. "Slightly elevated from background radiation, but livable, Comrade Captain."

Captain Semyanov sighed in relief. At least there was hope in this new life. Eventually, the planet would recover, but until then, the Antarctic would be a lifeboat for human existence. It would be a harsh existence but one where they would have to live in for the foreseeable future and then perhaps their descendants would be able to return to the Southern Hemisphere to live eventually and mankind would make a foothold again on the planet.

Russian nuclear missile crews were mostly all male, however the last few years in the Rodina, the amalgamation of the sexes in crews was starting to take place. Semyanov's crew actually had a sprinkling of women officers. There were First Lieutenant Olga Alexeyeva; blonde haired, blue-eyed, and a consummate navigator, Sub-Lieutenant Nadya Limonova; a sonar officer and several others. Their mixed crew was viewed with some trepidation, however, the crew worked well contrary to the belief from older officers that women were a disruptive influence in the fleet. And the rationale that the ballistic missile subs should be crewed by mixed crews made sense. How would humanity regenerate itself after such a war if there were no women left to procreate with…if there were even any survivors afterwards?

"We shall retain our position in the submarine…however we will make exploratory treks out to the main buildings of McMurdo Station in order to see if there is any way to replenish our foodstocks. Maintain radiation count." Captain Semyanov indicated. "Also check and see if there were any survivors at McMurdo Station. Petty Officer Second Class Goremykin, you are in charge of the first scouting party. Seaman Delov, Yozhin, Kedrov and Pokrovsky; you will accompany them. Arm yourselves accordingly. If you encounter Americans, indicate your friendliness. We are allies…in this post-war world. The politicians were the ones making us enemies. Thank goodness they are all dead. Keep in constant radio contact. And return quickly if there are any spikes in radiation. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Comrade Captain." The search party chorused in unison, like well-trained sailors of the Rodina.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Armory – 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Victor was looking very apprehensive as he looked over at Animal. "The rumblings of discontent are getting more ominous. I hear it in the cafeteria when I make some food runs. It seems like things are starting to get bad, sir. And I don't know if we can head it off if they try something."

"Have we got an idea of who the ringleaders are?" Animal asked. This wasn't looking good at all. All they needed was for some disgruntled shelter occupant to sabotage supplies. "Who else can we recruit to our cause to keep Boone as leader?"

"The shelter guards, they're the ones feeding me the information of who has approached them as agitators and troublemakers." Victor replied looking at his list of people. "Problem is, sir, we crack down too hard and the troublemakers gain strength. People get bitter and think they have nothing left to lose with open rebellion."

Animal snorted sarcastically. "So, it's the old carrot and stick method, right?" Animal wondered just how the late Chegwidden knew that Gunny Galindez would be the eyes and ears of their group, but he had to thank that old crusty SEAL's memory that the late admiral had the ability to think things through in advance and set them up with one of the best damned non-coms in the business of intelligence-gathering. Galindez knew how to get info out of people and work them over to his side.

"Yes, sir, it looks that way." The former Gunny stated. "And. Sir, I'd keep an eye on Mackenzie too, it appears she's thrown her lot in with the troublemakers."

Animal sighed. He knew it would have come down to this after seeing Mac's reaction when the bombs went off. She had lost control of her rigidly tight world and everything was coming apart at the seams for her. She made a major mistake when she threw her lot in with Simone and his trouble-making bunch. The punishments were harsh for troublemaking that threatened the security of the installation and the sentence for that would be death; by exposure – in other words excommunication from the shelter to take their chances with the elements and radiation. But in order to excommunicate her from the shelter would have to be the result of overt action on the troublemakers' part, not a preemptive arrest. A preemptive arrest would make more trouble for Boone. He noted that to Victor and said. "Let's keep a watch on her, a watch on the targets that they will most likely hit, and then arrest them if they make an overt move on those targets. Then we will have a fulcrum to sway public opinion of the effectiveness of the leadership."

"That sounds good, sir." Victor could not get out of referring to his former superiors as sir and included Animal in that bunch as he was the highest ranking of the bunch with the exception of Tom Boone himself but the former rear admiral upper half had proven himself a worthy man and Victor respected him implicitly. Though Mackenzie had brought him into JAG, Victor had seen just how much the trauma of seeing nuclear devastation had wrought on the former Marine Lieutenant Colonel and that she had psychologically fragmented into psychosis and that respect had melted away into suspicion of her actions. In fact, Victor wouldn't put it past her to pull off an attack on the water supply. Not immediately fatal, but it would bring the shelter to its knees. Humans needed water to survive even more than food. And she could put something in the water that would cause illness. He needed to tell the admiral that the likely first target would be the water supply. "Sir, my suspicion is that the water supply is the first likely target the troublemakers will go after. Not to kill anyone, but to make people ill to the point where they can't maintain the shelter." Animal looked at him…this Boone needed to know.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Tunnel 7, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Danny Zhou was making his way down the tunnel measuring doing his inspection of the facility. Routine checks of the facility needed to be done in order to keep up the facility during the period of occupation. It was a lonely job but someone had to do it. When he was doing these checks, he wasn't armed; it was only within the installation. All he had was his knowledge of martial arts to protect him.

Tunnel Seven had to rank as one of the eeriest corridors in the facility. Constantly foggy with condensation dripping off the rock covered walls, it was just like in that movie. "Aliens", Danny thought. He wondered about what he would see in that corridor – hell if that Xenomorph came out of the mist, he'd shit himself.

The maintenance inspection involved checking each and every valve, and electrical connection to make sure that there wasn't any tampering done. And each corridor was done – one a day by each individual maintenance worker. As Danny was one of the military facility techs, he was the one slated to oversee each inspection by the civilian techs. And this was one of the oversight checks that he was assigned to do. It wasn't a pleasant task by any means considering the corridors needing to be checked but it was a necessary task. And the one thing on his mind was the fact that the shelter was insuring his survival. That's why he had to make absolutely certain that everything was as it should be. It made him focus his concentration on making sure that all the bolts were tight, all the valves were in the positions that they needed to be in and all the connections were tight. It was that concentration that prevented him from seeing the approach of a dark figure dressed in black, who brought up a small piece of rebar pried from the framework and filed into a club-like object, covered with cloth to prevent it from killing him and smashed him in the side of the head, causing him to collapse to the ground, blood leaking from his nose.

The retreating footsteps of that figure were unheard as Danny was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Armory – 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse 5 hrs later

"Where's Danny?" Katrina O'Grady asked the rest of the armory occupants. "Wasn't he supposed to be back from the oversight inspection by now?"

Animal looked over at the young weapons tech… "Wasn't he inspecting one of the Tunnels?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." Katrina stated. "But he was supposed to be back an hour ago."

Animal looked over at Harm. Nothing further had to be said. "You two keep guard on the armory." Walking over to the Armory locker, he grabbed MP5-A5s and several magazines loaded with 9x19 Luger (Parabellum). These MP5s were the original 9x19 chambered MP5s, not the piddly-ass .22LR chambered ones that the civilians got to plink with, the Luger 9x19 hit hard. Handed one to Victor, one to Harm and another to Gerry, a former Green Beret special forces type who nodded. They needed to go retrieve him and make sure that he was alright.

But it didn't sound good at all. Normally if anyone missed their check-in time, they would be considered either deserted or severely injured. And of the two, the latter seemed that it could potentially be the case. So, Harm, Victor, Gerry and Animal nodded to each other. They would check all the tunnels as a group.

Crow Rock, Blue Mountain Ridge, Pennsylvania, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Commander Tracy Manetti sighed looking at the computer readouts. The entire facility was Faraday-caged so that the computers were still functional even after the EMP blast. However the readouts still were sobering. The fallout pattern from the 5 MT surface blasts that obliterated Dulles did encompass Crow Rock, and thus the sobering realization that the area surrounding their shelter was now considered a hot-zone. That meant that they wouldn't be able to come out for the next thirty years with the Cesium-137 contamination ever-present. The shelter was smaller than the facility that should have housed them, which was Mt. Storm, however the shelter still had enough food to last them for that duration of time as well as stores to create more food.

Considering the Joint Chiefs of Staff were in the bunker, it was a rather untenable situation with the radiation belt surrounding them. If Dulles hadn't been in the target equation, which the belief of such miracle was a fallacy, the simple fact was that two surface impact Dong Feng missiles had blown such a major crater in the international airport that if any precipitation fell, it would create a new radioactive lake where the airport once stood.

Of all the places where she could be stuck in, Crow Rock had to be one of the most miserable to live in. She was surrounded by senior officers, the lowest ranking of which was a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Army, but equivalent to her O-5 rank. The military was an obsolete institution in this post nuclear apocalyptic landscape but Crow Rock and Cheyenne Mountain were sticking to it and it was fine where people who were non-friends were able to work together with that sort of structure. However it was times like this where she wished that she were able to be at Mount Storm with people she knew and cared about. There was a loneliness in Crow Rock that couldn't be allayed because every officer around her was either higher rank than her with the exception of Lieutenant Colonel Shirelle McNeely, United States Army, Communications-Electronics Command. The flipside of the benefits of tying one's life to her godfather's career was that she was stuck in this hell-hole without her friends that she had made at JAG.

The fact that the Russians had hit Camp David with an 800kT SS-21 warhead had put another crimp in the escape vector of Crow Rock. That put them in the middle-pattern of fallout and any movement in that sort of radiation would result in lethal doses being sustained inside of minutes. Of course, four months after the fact, the radiation probably would have gone down far enough that they could conceivably escape, but the long-lasting Iodine 131 and Cesium 137 would probably take root and do their damage. In that regard, it probably would be much safer to stay ensconced in their shelter for the foreseeable future.

If that wasn't bad enough, Crow Rock itself got socked with an 800kT SS-21, which caused their lights to flicker and probably blew out all the transmission towers at the surface and melted them into a molten pile of hardened steel. At least that one appeared to be an air-burst for maximum damage, which didn't add much to the fall-out pattern except for whatever was destroyed in the fireball which did happen to touch the earth. The only benefit of being stuck in Crow Rock was that it was just as hardened as the shelters like Cheyenne Mountain and Mount Storm. They were hardened to plus-5MT range and were radiation sealed so that there was no rise in radiation dosage. As long as they stayed in the shelter, they would be safe. The secondary exit from Crow Rock was also blast and radiation-hardened and was in a section on the mountain facing away from the blast.

Like her counterparts at the other locations, she wondered just how long their stay was and whether they would be sane by the end of it all.

Ballistic Missile Submarine October Revolution; McMurdo Station 20 Weeks Post-Apocalypse

"You were right, Comrade." Captain Gruschev indicated to Captain Semyanov. "We have found many foodstuffs in the buildings. But the Americans deserted this place many months before hand. Perhaps they found their way back to the mainland before the missiles hit or chose to die with the rest of their countrymen. But for all that, I am glad that we are alive and that there are no more politicians to continue their feuds."

Captain Semyanov looked at his friend and comrade-in-arms. "Viktor Ivanovich, my friend. It is fortuitous that we have no more politicians. In the Rodina the politicians, corrupt as they were, were all out for money. When the rich make war it's the poor that die." He stated quoting an old Russian proverb. "Those of us who survive are the lucky ones or unlucky, whatever the case may be."

"Comrade Captain, we have a sonar contact. We are tied up at the surface…and unable to respond." The sonarman interrupted Captain Semyanov's contemplation.

Freedom Bunker, Somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Wind was 25 degrees north-east when the fallout had come less than 6 hours from the blast. The fallout had been from a 5MT bomb that had hit Yeager Airport in West Virginia. Normally something like that wouldn't have been hit considering it was a regional airport; however the WVANG had stationed their C-130s there – named Yeager Airport something like Charlestown Air National Guard Base.

"Saul ain't gettin' any better." Rachel muttered at Billy Joe. "He's vomiting up his stomach, can't keep a thing down and he's weak as a kitten."

Billy Joe replied caustically. "It's that damn bomb, that's what it is. It's the fallout. The Chinee hit Yeager and we got it thanks to the wind-drift. We need to find out if any hospitals are still workin'. Or Saul's just gonna get sicker."

"But that means we gotta go out in this stuff." Rachel objected, her eyes wild with fear. "Billy Joe…what if the rest of us get sick from this stuff Saul's got."

"Naw, Rachel, Fight fire with fire. We gotta go. If Saul gets sicker he just becomes a handicap." Billy Joe replied trading glances with the rest of the people in the shelter. "…'sides, I'm sure the fallout's gotten less. Ain't never could do nothin'!"

Timmy spoke up…fingering his rifle, "Billy Joe. I'm a God-fearin' man, but this fallout stuff is evil as evil does. It's made Saul sicker'n a dog n' it could do the same fer us." He shook his head. "I ain't comin'. Yer gonna have to git someone else to do it this time."

Billy Joe looked over at the rest of the group. "Any volunteers?"

USS Birmingham SSBN-588, Somewhere in the Southern Ocean, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Periscope Depth". Captain Van Buren called out. "Radiation counts!"

"Aye aye, sir!" came a chorus of replies from the sailors in the Birmingham as they scrambled to do his bidding. They wouldn't break surface except for the periscope, but take a reading to point their way to McMurdo Station.

Sturgis had walked up to Captain Van Buren. "How much longer, sir, till we reach McMurdo Sound?"

Captain Van Buren looked at Sturgis. "Getting a bit claustrophobic? Commander?" he chuckled wryly.

Sturgis gave him an amused look. "You might say that, sir."

"Well, we still have a day's sailing yet. We need to know just how much ice we have to trek between where we full-stop at ice edge and the station." Captain Van Buren said. I don't think they have a port per se." What he didn't say was what they might possibly find there. If the Russians had managed to get to McMurdo before they did, then there could potentially be hostilities. However Captain Van Buren was a pragmatic man. He wouldn't exhibit hostilities until the enemy tipped off their hand. The worst case scenario would be a Russian ship with a hostile commander and a ship's magazine of weapons. Considering the only complement of weapons that the Birmingham carried were it's Mk. 48 torpedoes, the Birmingham would get one shot in before the Russians obliterated it. CAPT Van Buren just hoped it didn't come to that. He hoped that most Russians believed that their government was no longer functional and any orders that came were thought through before implemented.

As far as McMurdo Sound was concerned, with the current drop in temperature of over 8 degrees, Captain Van Buren knew that there was a long trek overland from where the ships tied up to get to McMurdo Station. As in most SSBNs that had to station themselves in inhospitable locations, the Birmingham had a lot of cold-weather gear stocked up. This way they would be able to make certain that all sailors were protected in the hostile environment of the Antarctic. CAPT Van Buren noted with the ocean topographical maps that there was a shallow continental shelf near McMurdo Station. Before they proceeded onto that shelf, they needed to do a radiation check to make sure that there wasn't any radiation at McMurdo and that was a necessity to ensure that the area was habitable for the foreseeable future.

Ballistic Missile Submarine October Revolution; McMurdo Station 20 Weeks Post-Apocalypse

Captain Gruschev asked "Arkady Timosevich, The sonar contact, do you perhaps think that it could be American?"

"Viktor Ivanovich. Anyone who is on the surface in the northern hemisphere is either dead or dying. It is either an American contact or a Russian one. All we can do is wait and see and hope that whoever it is, is not an American cowboy." Captain Semyanov replied as he scratched his chin, "It would be the ultimate of ironies if we were to be sunk by an American torpedo after we have come all this way to the Antarctic to survive."

"Comrade, I'm not sure I find your humor in this." Captain Gruschev replied wryly. "However, we shall wait and see. No hail!" he returned to the sonarman who promptly replied.

"Yes, Comrade Captain."

USS Birmingham SSBN-588, Somewhere in the Southern Ocean, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Sir, we were just pinged." A sonarman indicated to Captain Van Buren. "It was a passive sonar ping, not active. What should we do."

CAPT Van Buren was silent for a long moment.

"Sir. Would it be best if we armed Mk. 48s?" Commander Turner asked.

"WEPS, load one into Tube 2, passively determine where the sub is. If it's at the surface we know the contact isn't hostile. It's probably docked at McMurdo." Van Buren replied.

"Load one Mark 48, Tube 2, passively locate sub, aye!" WEPS replied.

"Sturgis, you know as well as I do that a passive sonar ping is not a sub actively looking for us. We just popped up in their contacts, but they're not doing anything about it." Captain Van Buren looked over at Turner and raised an eyebrow. "What does that tell you?"

"They're not being hostile?"

"Correct, Commander. It's more than likely either an American or a Russian survivor and at this point they're not about to be actively hostile because they don't know what we're carrying." Captain Van Buren was reassured that Turner was not a gung-ho…damn the torpedoes type of officer. He didn't need that on his boat.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Tunnel 4, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

The hostile looks that pervaded the shelter didn't lessen as the men toted their HK5-A5s in ready position as they made their search down the tunnels. Animal and Harm kept a sharp look-out as they looked down each tunnel, looking for Danny. The looks didn't concern Animal, nor Harm, their only goal was to find Danny .

Bud looked over at Gerry and Gunny as the both of them hefted their weapons. They looked worried as they didn't see any sign of Danny anywhere in the tunnels they had searched so far.

"Did you know which one Danny was supposed to inspect this time around?" Animal asked.

"No…he didn't give any indication." Gerry replied.

Animal sighed softly. "We'll just have to search every single one then. How many have we searched so far?"

"Three, sir." Bud replied. The longer they searched, the more vulnerable they were. But they weren't going to leave without Danny; of that much Bud was certain. They'd hunt for him until they were exhausted and dead on their feet. They weren't going to leave him behind. He knew that Harm and Animal would search until they had spent their last bit of energy and then some.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Armory – 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Katrina looked over at Meg, Jen and Amy. Lisa and Lia were in the maternity ward and were unable to be there, but Kat looked worried. "They've been gone for an awfully long time." She said.

Meg nodded, looking worried as she gazed at the clock on the wall. "They'll be back. We just have to hold down the fort while they're gone."

Jen agreed, "They'll find Danny and be back." The women had weapons within easy reach as they waited for the men to return. Certainly, they were capable military, but they still didn't feel comfortable in this new situation they found themselves in. At least as a group, they could defend themselves with the men guarding the door to the armory and the women backing themselves in the armory however, with the men gone on an urgent search, they were tense.

Amy was silent, but her thoughts were that she hoped they came back soon.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Tunnel 7, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

It had been a long time later, when the men finally reached the Tunnel 7 entrance. They hadn't gone far when they saw a slumped form on the ground. Bud ran over to the slumped form. "It's Danny!" he yelled when he made the identification. Danny's face was ashen, blood had dried on upper lip from the trickle of blood coming from his nose, there was a small pool of it on the ground…and his breathing was shallow and his pulse faint. Gerry joined Bud kneeling beside him. Animal, Harm and Gunny set up a perimeter watching the tunnel passageway.

"Shit…we need a medic." Gerry said. "We can't move him from this area without a stretcher. We don't know if he's got a spinal cord injury."

Animal looked around the tunnel for a loose board or something that they could lay Danny on top of to hold him steady, then Harm shouted. "Hey…we can use the door, take his screwdriver and remove the hinges. We just need to find something to hold his head steady. Animal took off his jacket. "We can use this. Just shape it to his head and two of you can use the door as a stretcher; we'll have to take him to medical." Harm nodded. It was either that or the swelling in his brain would cause brain damage to Danny.

Animal nodded, "Get it done." He continued to watch the corridor as Bud and Gerry removed the door to the maintenance room. It normally was kept shut and locked, but this was an emergency. They'd replace the door later. It was an arduous return to the medical wing of the shelter as they brought Danny in for medical attention. From the doctor's cursory examination, it wasn't looking too good for Danny, however, the fact that they had kept his head steady helped prevent the damage from becoming worse when they had transported him. There was a fully equipped ER in the shelter and the medical staff, small though as it was, was highly trained for trauma injuries such as this one. Hope was all that Danny had, considering he had brain swelling and blunt trauma to the cranial area. The medical staff hustled Danny into op and hopefully they could do something for him to bring the swelling down.

Animal and Harm looked at each other – their rage was growing exponentially and this was the final straw. A brief look at Gunny showed the same thing. Somebody was going to pay for this and those who were the instigators of the dissent were going to feel heat like they never felt it before.

Chapter Four

Author's Note: Most nuclear survivors in bunkers will subsist on grains; which means a facility where they can grow wheat needs to be available (no doubt via hydroponics and UV lighting). Mt. Storm has stated that they had food for 10 years for 1000 people however it will mostly be a diet of fish (that will be meat) and vegetables/grains (seeds which need to be grown 24/7 by means of ultraviolet light). Actual meat or cows will be at a premium and the cows will mostly be providing milk for the benefit of the children. Chickens will provide protein with eggs. All survivors must realize that killing livestock just shortens the amount of food that they have and they need to resort to replenishable means of food production (eggs (some eggs can be incubated for more chickens), milk).

As in canon, we realize in traumatic situations, Mac is emotionally fragile – PTSD (in this case Chaco Boreal never happened – the nuclear war did instead), so Mac is disassociating and probably going schizoid after a traumatic event coupled with an even more traumatic dictum issued by Boone.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, 15 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Tom…" the doctor said. "I do have some idea of how radiological particles can affect the human body." Doctor Ellen Parkman looked over at Tom Boone. "The main element that we have to watch for is cesium 137. It has a radioactive half-life of 30 years. That means that any child born in here will be in the mid-twenties to early forties before it is safe to venture out. And should we venture out, there is no telling where concentrations of cesium 137 are located so standing in an area could render a lethal dose without anyone being aware of it. It is a major source of radiation in nuclear fallout, and since it parallels potassium chemistry, it is readily taken into the blood of animals and men and may be incorporated into tissue making it the most serious threat that we face out there."

Boone rubbed his forehead. He was getting a major league headache from this. Even after two decades of having to deal with the idea of destruction and almost

"The other is strontium-90. It has a radioactive half-life of 28 years. Strontium-90 follows calcium chemistry, so that it is readily incorporated into the bones and teeth, particularly of young children who have received milk from cows consuming the grass that could be contaminated with it. Also of note are Iodine 131 because it attacks the thyroid and plutonium 239 which attacks the bones causing cancers. If we set out now, we will have to deal with three types of radiation damage: primarily bodily damage, meaning that you will have diseases like leukemia, and cancers of the thyroid, lung, breast, bone, and gastrointestinal tract. The secondary type of damage is genetic damage, that being birth defects and constitutional and degenerative diseases due to gonodal damage suffered by parents; and tertiary damage is development and growth damage, primarily growth and mental retardation of unborn infants and young children." Dr. Parkman explained. "The safest bet is to stay put and hope that we will be able to foster enough genetic diversity in this shelter that we are safe from having to set out for a few generations. Our best bet is to make sure that we have enough food growing here to support the increase in shelter population." Boone looked over at Parkman as she pointed these things out on the whiteboard. "We're pretty much in a situation where our best option is to stay sealed in this shelter for the foreseeable future or the radiation will kill us."

"Understood, Doctor." Boone said as he looked over at Harm and Animal. "Any input here?"

"I concur." Harm stated, turning to look at Animal.

"Agreed." Was Animal's response. "But what about the people who are getting restless? I've heard rumblings about a rebellion."

Just then a knock on the door prompted Harm to get up and go to get it. "Harm!" the look on Danny's face was stark relief. "We've got another situation in the chow hall."

"Shit." Harm swore and the three: Animal, Harm and Danny headed for the cafeteria. Yelling and sounds of fist on flesh could be heard down the hallway as Animal and the other two men made it to the cafeteria in time to see a chair hurtle through the air. Animal stepped through the cafeteria door, Beretta drawn, lethal intent apparent on his face.

"STAND DOWN!" Animal's bellow and his pointed weapon stopped the scuffle dead in its tracks. Antagonistic glares turned to face the two officers and one Navy Chief. They knew that the Privileged wouldn't hesitate to shoot and they were gauging if it would be worth it to charge three men with side-arms.

"Why don't we have enough food? All we've been getting are grains. When are we going to have meat. We have chickens, we have cows. When are we going to have some meat?!"

"We need to keep the animals to replenish the food that we have. It's been stated before. The cows are for milk (for the children), the chickens are for eggs. If we start killing them off, we starve." Harm stated.

"Bullshit!" That was Simone. "You're just hoarding them for yourselves."

Danny said quietly to Animal. "That's Simone, he's trouble."

"Who'da guessed?" Animal's tone was sarcastic.

"He tried to recruit me. That was before you guys came and gave me an offer. I didn't like his tone." Danny replied.

"If you don't clear this cafeteria, you will be put on restricted rations and confined to quarters!" Harm stated clearly, his voice snapping like a whip in the now silent cafeteria. Hostile looks permeated the room, but slowly, all too inexorably slowly the room started to clear. Simone passed by with a deadly look at the two officers and a cold expression at Danny – Animal took it to read reprisal and was stopped by Harm and Danny from stepping forward and confronting Simone. Simone just responded with a challenging look. When he had left; Harm turned to Danny. "We need to keep an eye on him."

All the way back to their quarters, the three watched each other's back. It wasn't until they were back in the armory, that they felt safe.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – AgriFarm

"A modulated irradiance system was used to maintain UV-B radiation at 30% above the ambient level and was applied daily between the elongation and silking stages of the corn that we planted." The agricultural officer maintained gesturing at the rows of corn in the massive room. "But as you can see here, the UV-B radiation has adversely affected the growth and the yield. There are fewer kernels on the corn and the mass of the kernel is affected adversely too. However inversely, the protein content of the kernels increased with the reduction in kernels." Animal looked at Harm who looked just as confused as Animal did. "This means that when we grind the corn into flour, we can make corn bread as a source of protein for those who are hungry."

"What about other vegetables?" Animal asked.

"We've had luck with lettuce, and other leafy vegetables. However things like potatoes are tough to grow with the lack of actual light, as UV light creates solanine which is poison to living creatures."

"So I guess french-fries are out." Harm quipped dryly. "Mac is going to hate that. She lives on the stuff. Eating healthy just might kill her."

"I miss Beltway Burgers just as much as she does, but you don't hear me whining about it." Animal retorted with a snort of disgust. Turning back to the agricultural officer, Dr. David Brooke, he asked. "Do you have a report for Tom? Something in plain English?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly as Dr. David Brooke, Doctorate of Agriculture handed him a rather long ten page report.

"I've been meaning to give him this the past meeting, however I needed to make a few more assessments of our botanical and agricultural setups. We are looking at pharmacological botany, so that we have medicines that will help the shelter heal any infections. An influenza could wipe us out right now." The doctor looked meaningfully at Animal and at Harm. "It could be potentially disastrous."

"Understood." Medicine had gone back to the dark ages; the chemical pharmacological companies were all ashes with the nuclear devastation wreaked on the surface of the planet.

"I'll be consulting with Dr. Parkman on what she will be needing and finding substitutions organically for the medicines that we have been creating chemically in the past."

"Good…Keep me informed." Animal said as the two headed for the door. "I'll see you next week." Dr. Brooke sighed as he watched the two officers step out of his AgriFarm, their side-arms strapped against the side of their belts in a tactical thigh holster.

USS Birmingham SSBN-588, Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, 16 weeks Post-Apocalypse

The empty missile tubes of the USS Birmingham echoed eerily as the subtle changes of the pressure caused the tubes to ring. Captain Samuel Van Buren felt yet another chill crawl up his spine as he conducted yet another inspection. The ballistic missile submarine's depth in the ocean cut down the radiation to almost negligible, but constant patrols of the sub's interior had to be done to make sure that radiation levels were gauged to the minute to be aware of any sudden rise. "So much for returning from that JAG investigation…Commander." Captain Sam Van Buren commented, wryly as he used the PRM 9000. "The only place that has any hope for us is the Antarctic. We might as well head that way."

Commander Sturgis Turner looked over at the ship's captain, nodding. "It was the Russians who launched first?" he queried.

"According to what we know." Sam stated as he checked yet another ballistic missile tube. "We got a BMDCOM Launch order and we let them fly. Evidently the events at Sakhalin spiraled out of hand." He snorted sarcastically. "And now we're stuck for our lifetime in a metal tube. Stinks…doesn't it?"

Sturgis had no choice but to agree that things were absolutely crazy and the survivors were the ones that had to reap the noxious benefits of the idiotic politicians who brought the world to this very point. At least the politicians were dead or Sturgis would have been helpful enough to help the mobs hang the bloody bastards.

The USS Birmingham would have to head for McMurdo Station. At least down there, the extreme cold weather would keep the radiation levels down. So when the radiation inspection was finished. Captain Van Buren would point the nose of the Birmingham south and head for the Antarctic. The Northern Hemisphere was finished for civilization for the foreseeable future. "So any news of any survivors? Any other submarines that survived the attack?" Sturgis thought to ask.

"We've been held to strict radio silence. But I'm sure if there are any other survivors with subs, you can be pretty sure that they're all at McMurdo." The intensity of the radiation from 14000 nuclear weapons being exploded would have more than likely turned any surface ship into floating tombs no matter how shielded they were from the radiation; it would have eventually seeped through to levels that would be lethal.

The crews had been trained to compartmentalize, but the simple knowledge that their loved ones were gone, vaporized and that they were now the survivors in a new hellish existence on a planet whose atmosphere was lethal to human life, was causing crew members to psychologically fragment.

Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Cheyenne Mountain, Wyoming. Office Commanding Officer,

North American Aerospace Defense Command

Beth watched the flickering screens showing absolutely nothing. Cheyenne Mountain had been hardened against nuclear missiles but the CCTV sets were vaporized in the ensuing missile hits sixteen weeks ago. The shelter was equipped with enough food to last those who were in the shelter over 10 years. But eventually, the radiation would lessen to the point where they would be able to clear out of the shelter and head for someplace where they would be able to be safe.

Their hope was to amalgamate their position with Mount Storm, but Mount Storm had been radio-silent since their only communiqué in which they related the stance that they were going independent. General Stafford was sympathetic to Boone's position however they felt that the best position for survival was to form the two shelters into an North American Alliance. But that all depended on the stance that Mt. Storm was going to take. The High Council for Cheyenne had maintained its military structure, but Mt. Storm was no longer military though its two highest ranking officers were Rear Admirals.

Colonel Mitscher, their resident CBRN specialist was always figuring things and trying to determine the best time they could vacate the shelter and head for Mount Storm. BMDCOM was still up enabling them to communicate with their missile submarines and attack subs which were all heading for McMurdo Station and that would consolidate their position in the Arctic.

Russian Missile Command, Somewhere in the Urals, 16 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Marshal Goprov looked at the flickering lights. The darkened shelter was rapidly becoming claustrophobic as the length of time in the shelter increased. Up at the surface was a swirling radioactive mess of death so Marshal Goprov considered himself lucky that he was locked in a subterranean bunker.

Lieutenant Senior Rank Yosif Druganin snapped to attention in front of him. "Comrade Marshal, the radiation inspection is complete."

"Very Well, Comrade Lieutenant. How are the rations?" Marshal Goprov nodded to the Lieutenant.

"The rations are protected and we have plenty for the staff to eat. We should be good for at least one year." His countenance was earnest. "Has Mother Russia survived?"

"I doubt it. The October Revolution is finished, my friend. We must make peace or suffer utter devastation and death. As distasteful as it is we must make friends with the Americans; what survivors there may be." The Marshal paused a long moment and then squared his shoulders. "We will have a meeting…that we can discuss what we do next."

"Yes, Comrade. I will assemble the people."

Ballistic Missile Submarine October Revolution; Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean

Captain Senior Rank Arkady Semyanov gazed balefully at the readouts on the radiation counts. The ballistic missile submarine October Revolution was well sealed, but they needed to get out of the Northern Hemisphere or they would be running into problems. "Helmsman Boris Bogdanovich… Make heading one four seven degrees due south. We will go to McMurdo Station and ask the Americans to take pity on us." Like the other Russian missile submarines, their missile tubes were empty and posed no threat to anyone else. Of course there were American hunter-killer submarines, however those would also be considering the situation and not shooting unless there were hostile acts. Their transit south should be without incident, the Captain thought.

Helmsman Boris Bogdanovich Kamov did as asked without question as was the rule in the Russian Navy, the Voyenno-morskoy Flot Rossiyskoy Federatsii. If the Captain wanted to go to McMurdo Station, McMurdo Station was the destination he would get.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Armory – 18 weeks.

Animal slowly ate some fried fish and eggs, the arrangement was rather gross, but the taste of the fish and the eggs were flavorsome; it kept people's strength up so that tasks around the vast expanse of the shelter were done. The fish farms were thriving at least and the corn-bread was delicious. This diet of vegetarian with a little fish thrown in was something Harm could tolerate. Animal on the other hand wanted to sink his teeth into a juicy burger but with cattle stocks limited to milk, it would be foolish to kill a cow for meat. Two or three bulls were being kept for breeding the cattle, so that eventually they would have enough cattle to start a farm on the surface when conditions were right.

After Animal had shown in the cafeteria that he wouldn't hesitate to draw on those who would seek to become anarchists, the cafeteria had quieted down, but he knew that there was an undercurrent of tension in the shelter and it was only a matter of time before it erupted yet again into violence. The stress of the situation had resulted in psychosomatic symptoms of phantom pain in his shoulders and Lia took the opportunities she had to slip from the maternity ward to massage his back, which resulted in some lovemaking between the two of them. As far as Animal was concerned, Lia was his wife, no matter what the hell had happened to their certificate of marriage in the now radiated remains of their home and nothing Boone could say would strip that from them.

The only way that they could stay sane was the fact that the partners they had were fixed between the group that they were in. Lia only was intimate with Harm or Animal, Jen took only the three: Harm, Animal or Victor to her bed and Meg only spent time with Animal or Harm as she was unfamiliar with Victor. Lisa on the other hand, like Jen, was fine with all three but only those three. The other two, Danny and Gerald were intimate with Amy and Katrina and that was it.

Meg had spoken to Lia about the fact that the two of them could only stand Harm or Animal's hands on them or intercourse with only those two. Lia wasn't thrilled with the fact that Animal was able to be intimate with all four women, but the Boone Rule was that the women had to have the equal chance of getting pregnant. The men not being able to pair off with the woman of their choice in a single monogamous relationship was wearing on the men as well though some men really didn't give a shit and welcomed the chance to play around. Lia and Meg had come to an agreement that the two of them understood that they were the primary ones in Harm and Animal's lives with Lia taking precedence in Animal's life and Meg taking precedence in Harm's. Lisa and Jen were fine with that too and thus intimate life didn't become fractious. And there was good news in that Lisa found out that she was in the family way and genetic testing proved that it was Victor's. The genetic testing came about after Sandra in the general maternity ward complained about the fact that women were unable to find out who the father was.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Tunnel 5

Simone looked over to see someone stepping out of the fog. He recognized her as one of the ones who had come with the JAG staff, but he paused a moment. "So…what do you want?" he asked the woman.

The woman gave him a bitter smile. "Nothing that YOU can give me, but I hear you're planning on starting an insurrection." She snorted as she walked around him. "You think you can make that happen all on your own? Even your friends are starting to desert you."

"What makes you think I'm going to tell you anything? For all I know you're a mole looking for inside information." Simone said, his hand going to his pocket.

The woman's eyes followed his motion like a hawk. "I wouldn't if I were you." She gave him a cold stare; a challenge to a guy like Simone who feared nothing.

"So what you going to do if…" his body tensed up as he brought the knife out in a snake-like S-strike; whereas the woman sidestepped the stabbing motion, grabbed his wrist in one motion, twisted his arm painfully behind his back causing him to drop the knife with a cry of pain and snapped his wrist causing him to scream and picked up the knife with one motion.

"That wasn't smart." She said coldly. "Now you're at a disadvantage until your wrist heals." Footsteps coming in at a run punctuated the backup for Simone. "I could kill you right now and leave your carcass to rot here. I know you've been making rebellious threats. So I can do one of two things, I can join your group and help you defeat Boone, or I can hand you into Boone…" She brandished the knife "…your choice really. But really, you have all to gain and everything to lose. Because what's going to happen if I turn you into Boone? You'll either get turned out into the radiation or they'll kill you and you think Nakamura is going to hesitate to pull the trigger?"

"What's in it…for you…" Simone said, gritting his teeth. The wrist was definitely broken and the edges of the bones were grating against each other, sending shooting pains through his entire arm.

"You get rid of a few people that I want gotten rid of…"

Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Cheyenne Mountain, Wyoming. Office Commanding Officer,

North American Aerospace Defense Command

Lieutenant Commander Beth Hawkes lay down on her bed wondering what the future entailed for herself. After the nuclear exchange, the surface was unlivable and they were stuck here for the next few years until the radiation levels had dissipated enough to make venturing out an action in the realm of possibility. They had made communication with Crow Rock. The SECNAV and his aide were there in command of the bunker. His aide was some woman named Manotti or something like that.

But the one person she wanted to make contact with was her former aviator with her on the Seahawk. They had gone through hell together…and frankly she missed him.

"Lieutenant Commander Hawkes. General Stafford would like to speak with you." The soft voice of the Air Force Master Sergeant interrupted her rest. There were no knocks on the doors any longer. Things were too urgent to wait for military protocol. "Crow Rock is back on and General Stafford wishes for you to be there when the communication takes place. He needs to talk with the SECNAV as he is the ranking civilian leadership".

"Got it." Beth said as she got up out of her bed and scrambled into some semblance of uniform and headed out to check in with Gen. Stafford. Evidently sleep could wait.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Maternity Ward, 18 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Lia was showing; that much she was sure of. "I'm getting fat." She said miserably at Animal as she stood in front of the mirror and turned around "…and it's your entire fault." And it was early in the pregnancy too. Animal knew that it was the hormones and not the actual fact that he had made her pregnant that was causing her severe mood swings. The only thing he could do was hold her while she cried and he wrapped his arms around her. "Damn you…" she said softly. "You make me pregnant…and I have to be the one bearing our child. I wish you could be swollen like a medicine ball for nine months. Dammit!" There wasn't any answer to that rhetorical statement.

Animal looked over at Dr. Parkman who replied. "Tosh. She's under a lot of stress. That's probably why she's lashing out."

"Do you mind? I'm in the room." Lia snapped irritated at the fact that the two seemed to be engaged in a conversation about her with her in the room. The doctor and her husband seemed good sense to be embarrassed or she would have exploded. Then she melted. "I don't want to be laid up for forty weeks. I don't want to be in a situation like this…" her tears made Animal reach out for her again. "I don't like feeling helpless…" she wailed. "And I'm stuck in this damned facility for the rest of my life with my only damned job being a glorified fucking breeder."

Again…there wasn't an answer for that, because the unpleasant truth was that it was the absolute truth of their situation.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Tunnel 5

The woman looked coldly at the retreating backs of the men whom she conversed with. She had certainly given them something to think about. So it was going to be every man for himself, was it? Well, it was certainly time for her to think about herself. If the rest of the people she used to consider her friends were going to betray her and get some gratification, she'd make them pay for it.

Tunnel 5, ever since she had overheard a group of the men whisper something about Tunnel 5 she had spent every spare moment of time that she could down there waiting to meet up with one of them. She had almost given up on them but she was in luck today and managed to corral Simone and talk some sense into the little vicious bastard or he would get himself killed before he did any good. The good thing about puppets was that they did what they were told if she yanked their strings with the appropriate deftness.

She hated Tom Boone with a seething hatred that went back to her first encounter with him. She thought he was absolutely soul-less, inordinately harsh on his subordinates and now that they were in a life-death situation; she thought he was inhuman expecting everyone to fulfill the roles of breeders for the new human race. She was not going to toe Boone's line; not willingly, and there was no way that she was going to go to the jail or suffer Boone's punishment for sedition/treason against the leadership, she was sure that the bastard would think up of the most degrading, de-humanizing torture that he could think of.

USS Birmingham SSBN-588, Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, 18 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Lieutenant Commander Will Drescher came up to Captain Van Buren. "Sir, we're headed in the right direction." With the EMP blowing out the satellite for navigation, they had to manually feel out their directional heading by actively pinging the surrounding area and trying to ascertain their location on a subsurface topographical map. "But how do we know when we get there? We're essentially travelling blind." The helm officer had a point. The sub was headed in the right direction. The hull sensors of the boat were reading a steady decrease in water temperature. But if they didn't surface, they'd run the risk of running into the Antarctic continent and sinking.

Sam looked at the crew who watched him intently awaiting his decision. Did they risk surfacing and throwing up the periscope to see if they could find out where they were directionally, or did they continue to travel blind. He took a deep breath. "Surface…periscope depth" was the command.

Commander Sturgis Turner watched Sam and the crew. The crew believed in him and would go through hell for Captain Van Buren. And he realized…that the right choice that he had made was to go to JAG. He wouldn't cut it as a submarine commander; he was just too rigid an officer who played by the book. He knew that he had alienated his friends at JAG and that he had been too harsh with Bud. But all that didn't matter now. He was stuck on a ballistic missile submarine with nothing to do other than to watch everyone do their job while he had no job left as an officer. He had to make a decision one way or the other. Was he a part of the Birmingham or not? Coming to a decision he walked up to Sam and snapped to attention. Sam awaited his statement. Sturgis stated calmly and succinctly "Sir." He said. "Permission to join the crew permanently."

"Welcome aboard, Sturgis." Sam smiled. "You're home now."

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Armory – 18 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Meg shuddered, her left leg up against the back of the bed as Harm thrust into her over and over again as they brought themselves to completion. The warmth of his seed rushing into her womb punctuated the climax as she heard Harm groan softly. "Oh…yes…fill me." She softly said as she kissed him on the lips.

Harm collapsed onto her body as he reached around her and enfolded her in his arms as he looked at her with affection. "That was fun." He grinned at her and then returned the kiss, nibbling on her lower lip causing Meg to moan.

Meg looked at him archly. "Yeah…breeding was never so fun." The light sarcasm in her tone caused Harm to look at her with concern.

"Are you OK with this?" He asked cautiously.

"Not really, but this is life after the Apocalypse." Meg said, her tone indicating that she was resigned to their existence and resultant love-life. "We have to do a lot of things that we didn't think we'd have to do before. At least it's with people we love." It was an unwritten rule of thumb that Harm didn't ask what Meg did with Animal, nor did Animal ask Lia what she had done with Harm before Lia was out of the rotation with Animal's child in her womb. "I don't think I'd be sane if I was shared out amongst the entire male population of the shelter." She admitted softly. "It's different with only two partners. At least I know you both love me and will protect me and likewise in return."

The harsh truth of the matter was that things had to change in this manner to ensure the survival of humanity. It would be like this for generations and Harm wondered if monogamy would ever return. Would the generations post-Apocalypse be so used to the idea of sharing partners that marriage would become an extinct performance of the past? She started stroking him and he responded and their conversation was placed on the shelf as they resumed making love.

Ballistic Missile Submarine October Revolution; Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, 18 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Captain Semyanov looked at his first officer. "Surface to periscope depth, we must take a reading of where we are. Fifteen minutes maximum at periscope depth, then we dive again regardless of whether we have the reading or not. Count timers at periscope depth." The October Revolution like the American counterpart was reliant on satellite navigation and had post-EMP had to manually find their direction in this post-nuclear holocaust world. Their destination much like their American counterpart was McMurdo Station. At least there, they would be much less radiation and they could start a whole new civilization based on mutual cooperation and peace. Maybe Captain Semyanov mused, it would be a whole new epoch in the course of humanity. Perhaps they would make inroads into a joint society where everyone would work together and actually become the human race instead of fragmented countries that had nothing in common other than war.

"Comrade Captain. You look so pensive, my friend." His first officer Captain Second Rank Viktor Ivanovich Gruschev.

"We have no weapons. We are nothing but a peasant's boat at this moment. Our only hope of survival is the American base at Antarctica. We wish nothing but peace. I am glad this war is over, Viktor Ivanovich. We must make a new life at the bottom of the world." Captain Semyanov replied as he sighed looking up at the ceiling of the sub.

"Fifteen minutes. Mark time!" yelled a sailor as he noted the depth gauge. "We have fifteen minutes from now! Start calculations!"

"Start calculations aye!"

At the fifteen minute count, Captain Semyanov said. "Dive! Dive!" And the helmsman pointed the sub's nose down. "Radiation inspection!"

"Radiation inspection, aye!" was the response from the radiological team that Captain Gruschev had set up. The calculations were brought up to the Captain and checked then the Captain ordered a direction bearing course change.

"We are good. The radiation levels are going down at the surface, but it is still dangerous to linger there for long." Captain Gruschev informed Captain Semyanov as the latter nodded. "We humans have done major damage to our world. A pity we were so short-sighted."

"How are our rations?" Captain Semyanov asked.

"We are good for another six months, however we need to hope that the rations and hydroponic gardens are extensive at the South Pole or we will suffer starvation." Gruschev indicated to his superior and friend.

Semyanov pulled at his beard contemplatively as he watched the crew guide their missile sub through the depths of the ocean. "I pity those who are in the middle of the irradiated continents. Comrade. They will be running a gauntlet unless they are in the bunkers. Helmsman, level off at 900 feet." The creaking of the hull indicated the pressure against the hollow tube that they were all travelling in.

"900 feet, Aye, Comrade Captain!"

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Armory – 18 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Jen looked over at Animal with deeply-lidded languid brown eyes. Despite the age-difference, Jen thought the admiral looked distinguished, though sweat-beaded and hair tousled, the admiral probably thought that he didn't look very distinguished at the very moment. "So…how was that?" Jen asked when she could catch her breath, teasing him with her trademark impish grin.

Animal, when he could reply, looked at her in return with a shy smile. "You know how to give this old man a workout."

"Hush, you're not old. You're not much older than Harm." She said, running her hand along Animal's bare back.

Animal looked sadly at her letting out a deep breath. "You could have someone much younger than myself."

"Shhh…the only people I can tolerate touching me are you, Victor and Harm and if monogamy is supposed to go out the window in this post-nuke devastation, then you three are the only ones I want to make love to." Jen replied, her mood starting to match her partner's. "At least this way, I still feel like I'm in a committed relationship. And you're not a bad catch, neither is Harm nor Victor." She paused, then gave him another impish grin. "Besides…Lia has informed me that you know how to satisfy a woman." She smirked and laughed as she saw a crimson blush flush his skin. Humor was what they had to use to tolerate a polygamous sexual relationship after this nuclear war. If Boone wanted polygamy to be used to further the human race, then so be it, but it would be on her terms. She crawled up his body again and whispered huskily. "Now…admiral…" she said softly. "Love me again…"

Animal swore that he would get her good for that bit of information that Lia had given her. And Jen smiled satiatedly as he did just that, nestling into his arms.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia

The JAG crew didn't know where she was. She had managed to locate quarters far enough away from the people she had come with and they were too busy screwing around that they didn't notice her absence from their quarters. Since they had moved into the armory, she had stayed away from that location. Her routine was meeting up with Simone and the rest of his crew and cultivating plans for open rebellion. All they needed was to get some more committed people. She had seen the JAG crew around and every time she had felt that stab of betrayal even more. It twisted the knife in a little deeper and it made her hate them even more. Just who did they think they were. She would have been a Privileged if she had acceded to Boone's request. But she felt that was nothing more than whoring.

The other admiral was no better than Boone. Despite his high and mighty Medal which was nothing more than a bauble now because the entire honor that went with it was now ashes at the surface of the planet. There was nothing for people to adulate him about. Who were they defending? Who would venerate who in this new reality? And now he was just as culpable as the rest. He was fucking Meg and Jen and Lisa…now. If he had any honor he'd have abstained from sex with anyone but his wife. They were all equal but the Privileged were behaving as though they were still operating under a military structure with a few major alterations. If the world were still normal, they'd be all under charges of conduct unbecoming.

And the commander she used to work with? He was doing the same to the same three women. How honorable was that? Ever since that Meg-bitch had run into his arms, his eyes weren't on her, but on Meg. And now they were copulating every chance they got with Boone's assent. That fact twisted her innards in a bitter stew. And then that bitch from the zoomies was promoted to the Privileged by Boone himself. Though that Air Force bitch-in-heat, Lisa something or the other, was now pregnant with Gunny's child and was moved to the maternity ward, just as Lia was.

She smiled coldly to herself; to think that one time, she was constrained by the laws, rules and regulations of the United States military - not now. If they were going to turn against her, she would make certain that she came out on top.