Chapter 6 - Flash Traffic
The glowing blue text on my phone screen felt like a physical weight pressing down into my palm. PRIORITY ONE RECALL. ALL LEAVE CANCELLED EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.
Ryan’s eyes scanned the reflection of the display in my glasses, his professional detachment snapping back into place with the precision of a cocked hammer. The wreckage of his cancelled wedding inside the country club ballroom ceased to matter. In the face of a military crisis, civilian drama evaporated into thin air.
“South China Sea telemetry,” Ryan murmured, his voice tight. “That’s not a routine glitch. If a carrier strike group goes blind in that sector, we’re looking at a hostile naval blackout.”
“Which means every senior logistics officer on the East Coast is about to be dragged out of their beds,” I said, my mind already racing, calculating flight times, encrypted comms channels, and the chaotic state of my travel bag sitting in the trunk of a rental car. I looked up at him. “We need to move. Now.”
Ryan didn't hesitate. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, his thumb flying across the screen. “I’m calling a staff car from the Norfolk base. Forget your rental; it’ll never make it through the flash traffic blockades once the Pentagon orders regional mobilization.”
“What about Lily and your family?” I asked, glancing toward the glowing double doors of the ballroom.
“My family is currently figuring out how to explain to three hundred guests why the groom walked out over a seating chart,” Ryan said flatly, his jaw set like granite. “They don't need me right now. You do.”
Before I could answer, a black government-issue Ford Explorer screeched to a halt right in front of the country club canopy, its tires hissing against the rain-soaked asphalt. The rear door swung open immediately, revealing a young master-at-arms in full uniform holding a secure tablet.
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“Commander Hayes?” the sailor called out, blinking through the downpour.
“That’s me,” I said, stepping forward.
