Chapter 10 - Red Alert on the Bay
The red emergency strobe lights overhead instantly flooded the briefing room in a pulsing, hypnotic crimson glow.
“Report!” I snapped, spinning around as Marcus tapped his wrist-mounted comms link, connecting directly to the bridge tactical display.
“Admiral, we’ve got multiple hostile radar tracks vectoring in low from the Point Loma ridge,” Marcus reported, his voice cutting through the blaring klaxon with razor-sharp urgency. “Electronic warfare suite reports active targeting locks on our fire-control radar. They aren't local police, and they aren't base security.”
“Who is it?” Brandon cried out, scrambling away from the table in sheer terror.
“Apex,” I said, pulling my service sidearm from its holster and checking the magazine with a practiced, fluid click. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow: my father hadn't just been a willing partner in their syndicate; he had become a liability the moment the federal oversight commission started digging into the Tahoe villa. And now the syndicate was tying up loose ends—starting with my family, and ending with the warship anchored in their harbor.
“Marcus, lock down all external access hatches and spool up the close-in weapon systems,” I ordered, striding toward the heavy steel hatch of the briefing room. “Brandon, you stay right here under guard. If you move an inch, you won't live long enough to face a court-martial.”
“Sandra, wait!” Brandon shouted, his voice breaking as he reached out a desperate hand. “They have Dad! What are we going to do?”
I paused at the threshold, looking back at my terrified brother under the pulsing red emergency lights. The past, with all its grievances, favoritism, and broken family dinners, vanished in the harsh glare of the present.
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“We’re going to fight them,” I said coldly. “Because nobody comes into my harbor and touches an American officer on my watch.”
I stepped out into the crimson-lit passageway just as a dull, concussive explosion rocked the forward hull, shaking the deck plates beneath our boots and sending a shower of sparks cascading down from the overhead wiring conduits.
