Free SEAL Team 13 (SEAL Team 13 series) by Evan Currie Page A

that much without stepping on any toes.” The general paused for a moment, then frowned. “How big?”
    “I was wondering the same thing, so I put in a request for some recon photos,” the sergeant admitted, looking a little guilty.
    The general just chuckled—he wasn’t going to make a fuss about whether all the forms had been filled out right or the request had been cleared through the proper channels. He wanted the information too, after all. “And?”
    “It’s a big riot, sir.”
    The general stiffened at his sergeant’s tone. He’d never known the man to exaggerate, and he didn’t like how serious he sounded. Wordlessly he accepted the paper that the other man handed him, noting the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) symbol in the corner. He held it in front of him, taking in the satellite image of Barrow.
    There were plumes of smoke rising from some of the buildings, clear fires burning in others, and ample evidence of destruction everywhere he looked.
    “That’s not where it stops, sir,” the sergeant said, handing him another photograph.
    Alphonse accepted this one with trepidation. Something told him it wasn’t going to be any better than the first.
    He was right.
    “Sweet Jesus, son. Tell me this isn’t—”
    “Those are burning oil wells southwest of Barrow.”
    “Tell the troopers to get their people together, and we’ll send some of ours up with them,” the general said, looking up. “And get me the governor on the line—we may need to declare a state of emergency.”
    “Yes, sir.”

    Within hours, a motley group of state troopers and National Guard reservists were thrown together out on one of the runways, a C-130 warming up its engines just for them.
    The briefing, such as it was, went quickly, as no one knew much of anything…and those who did know something were more concerned with getting in the air than talking on the ground. In all, about sixty men were shoved into the belly of the bird and sent on their way practically before they knew what was going on.
    They were given more details once they were in the air, as much as anyone knew, anyway, and they grimly settled themselves in for a long ride with an unpleasant task ahead of them on the other side.
    Elsewhere the oil companies were rushing firefighters into planes of their own, screaming for security escorts from the military, while ALCOM started to put together a long-term relief package and waited for a response team from the Federal Emergency Management Administration.
    It was an unwelcome break from the routine, but by late evening of that night, General Alphonse was confident they had it all well in hand.

CHAPTER

    CORONADO, CALIFORNIA
    “What the hell is this?” Captain Andrews growled, tossing a sheaf of papers across Masters’s desk.
    He barely glanced at it, and didn’t look at her. “Requisition forms.”
    “I know that!”
    He could resist neither the wry smirk that cracked his face nor the words that came to his lips. “Then why did you ask?”
    His sense of humor apparently didn’t hold much water with Andrews—her glare would have turned him to stone in another place, another time.
    “Beowulf assault rifles, Auto Assault–12s, Smith and Wesson 500 revolvers?” she growled, eyes rolling. “Compensating for something, are we?”
    That caught his attention, and he matched her eye roll. “You aren’t in on the mission brief, Captain. You’re not cleared for it, and you don’t know what we’ll be doing. You are here to help manage the administration of the team. So go administrate.”
    “You’re treading close to insubordination, Commander, as always.”
    “That’s a weak threat, Captain.” He shrugged. “I’m here on the admiral’s request and authority. He may have reactivated my commission, but I didn’t ask for it. You want to bring me up on charges, go ahead. You can’t burn my reputation any more that the government already has.”
    She glowered at him for a long moment, then shook