Chapter 5:

“Well, I will give Discord some credit, he certainly has helped the defense budget.”

“Given the repair costs, I'd say we're worse off than before.”

“General, I'm speaking of the long term effects.”

“HAH! With the politicians, nothing ever last long.”

“Have a little faith in humanity. After all, look at how far we've come since Discord first appeared.”

Three Days after the Attack:

“Alright, try it again.” The sound of grinding metal filled the air as a crane on the USS Ronald Reagan's deck lifted a damaged F-18 off one of the starboard elevators. Slowly but surely, the plane was lifted clear of the deck and placed to one side. Almost immediately, a team of engineers swarmed the elevator and began to cut off the jagged pieces of metal that held it in place.

“All hands.” A loudspeaker cut through the noise. “The tide has reached its peak, we're going to try and move the ship. Brace.”

Duframe was in the middle of rebuilding the tail rotor for a Seahawk when the announcement blared. Quickly, he gathered up anything loose and set it inside the bucket he had been standing on.

“Here we go again.” He muttered as he held on to the helicopter.

The ship began to vibrate as the four propellers began to pull against the shoreline. Additionally, the Shiloh, having been freed two days earlier, lent her aid in pulling at the beached carrier. The Reagan had been unable to free herself before, but today was an unusually high tide and the ship's previous efforts had loosened the ground around the bow.

With a massive groan and shrieking of metal, the giant ship slowly slipped away from her earthen confinement and floated out into the middle of the bay. A massive cheer from those onshore was met by the cheer of the sailors and workers onboard.

“All hands, return to your stations. Prepare to exit the harbor.” The speakers blared again. Duframe stared out the open elevator doors for a moment more, feeling the ship gently bob as it slowly made its way to the harbor. Then he returned to the business at hand, repairing the helicopter. Fishing a few pieces out of the bucket, he carefully began to grease and replace them.

The arrival of several civilian workers distracted him for a moment and he watched as they gathered around a foreman.

“Okay!” The foreman yelled. “We have to redo the wiring from sub-sectors three through seven, I want every person in full protective gear, and heads on the swivel. Work from the top down and disconnect as you go. Also, do not cross these two wires, or this will happen!”

Captain Anderson had just retrieved her morning coffee and was looking forward to a relaxing trip down to San Diego when a massive explosion rocked the ship.

“Oh f- What was that?” She shrieked as she tried to wipe the scalding coffee off of her freshly pressed uniform.

“Detonation in the hangar deck, damage control is responding now.” Came the reply.

Anderson picked up the phone as it buzzed. “This is Anderson.”

“Cap, this is McNally, explosion in the hangar deck.” A tired voice said. “Not much damage, got a few injured but no dead.”

Anderson growled in frustration, then spoke. “Need a full damage report. Any idea who caused it?”

There was a moment of silence, then McNally came back on. “Uh, yeah. Seamen Duframe says it was one of the civilian contractors. He touched two wires together and it must've shorted somewhere where we had fuel. Luckily, a helo took the fireball and forced most of it out the portside elevator.”

“Put that contractor in the brig and set his workers under guard.” Anderson barked. “Last thing this ship is some nut near the weapons.”

With that, she slammed the phone back in the cradle. Letting out a frustrated groan, she picked up the coffee cup. The day had started off so promising.

Duframe helped lift the man into the stretcher, the man's arm was heavily burnt. Two corpsmen picked up the stretcher and trotted off toward the med bay. He turned and surveyed the damage. The helicopter he had been working on was now even more damaged, several pieces of debris had punctured the thin metal and scorch marks covered the side nearest the explosion. Beyond the helicopter, the small fuel tank on the starboard side now was now missing its upper half, and anything near the fuel tank had been blown away or burnt.

With a sigh, Duframe began to pick up his tools and make a thorough inspection of the helicopter.

“Seaman Duframe!” Someone behind him barked.

Duframe turned around to see Lieutenant Sanders, his division officer, standing near him. “Sir?”

“Report to Lieutenant Commander Stone in CIC. She's got some questions for you.” Sanders said before turning and leaving Duframe standing clueless.

Upon reaching the CIC room, Duframe found Commander Stone overlooking several pieces of paper attached to a clipboard.

“Ma'am.” Duframe snapped to attention. “Seaman Duframe reporting as ordered.”

Stone looked up at him and set the clipboard down. “At ease, Duframe. Are you aware of the reason that I have called you here?”

“Negative Ma'am.” Duframe said as he relaxed slightly.

Stone picked up an electronic tablet and turned it on. “Let's see, D-U-F-R, ah, here were are. Seaman Duframe, it is my understanding that you were part of the expeditionary force that liberated Seattle.”

“Yes Ma'am.” Duframe affirmed, worried that he might have caused a problem.

“During that battle, you found and reported two civilians that had been exposed to a mutation. Am I correct?” Stone asked.

“Yes Ma'am.” Duframe answered.

“Upon encountering these two civilians, why did you refrain from shooting them?”

“Ma'am?” Duframe asked uncertainly.

“It would make perfect sense, that in the battle, there was a lot of chaos that occurred. How did you know not to open fire on these two civilians even though they resembled the enemy?” Stone asked in a monotone voice.

“Well,” Duframe said, “ 'cause they asked me not to.”

Stone's eyes bored into Duframe for a long minute, then she smiled. “Duframe, did you know that because of your actions, an estimated two hundred civilians were saved from friendly fire?”

Duframe's silence answered her, so she continued. “I also understand that, according to Petty Officer O'Hara and Guardsman Jacobs, you were among the first troopers to make contact with the creature known as Discord, and even in the face of death, you remained resilient.”

“Um, I told him to have intercourse with himself.” Duframe stated.

Stone smile grew for a moment. “Well, in light of recent actions, I see no other option but to approve your transfer to helicopter gunnery training.”

Duframe took a moment to register what Stone had just said. Stone offered her hand and he took it in a firm handshake.

“Congratulations.” Stone smile was reflected by Duframe's broad grin.

Lieutenant Butters's hands were raw from the digging, and his muscles burned from exhaustion. Behind him, practically an army of engineers were doing the same thing he was, digging a tunnel down to the trapped men. They had established contact with Admiral Bogart, and he had informed them that Colonel Granger and two fellow Marines had survived the cave in, but all three were in critical condition.

The tunnel was dug by a portable digging machine about the size of a small car, but the men still had to do excavate the leftover dirt and transport it out by hand. Additionally, they had to wear breathing equipment because of sheer amount of dust that filled the air. This made for less than ideal work conditions, but so far not one of them had complained about the work. If anything, the closer they got to the trapped men, the harder the rescuers worked.

“Lieutenant.” A muffled voice called. He looked over and saw one of the engineers approaching him.

As Butters looked up, the engineer began to explain the situation. “I'm sorry Sir, but we're going to have to slow down.”

“Why?” Butters hated wearing the mask, but it was better than the alternative.

“We're passing under corridor seven.” The engineer said as he pointed up. “My boys need to shore this area extra, or else we run the risk of another cave in. Don't worry, we'll still reach the Admiral in plenty of time.”

“How long?” Butters asked.

“Six, maybe seven hours.”

Butters nodded and thanked the engineer, then picked up the shovel and started to work again.