Fiction Week

By Jay Turner

The ocean was calm off the coast of Virginia as Jake settled into his captain’s chair on the bridge wing of his Navy destroyer. The morning breeze was fresh and chilly, and he tucked his exposed neck deeper into the collar of his foul-weather jacket. It was springtime, the sun glimmered on the wavy sea surface and the boaters were out, but the temperatures were still dropping into the 50s at night. Overall, it was a beautiful day at sea.

He received a strange email from his wife this morning that the FBI raided a house in their neighborhood and taken away their neighbors, Rick and Susan. The neighborhood Facebook page was alight with discussion centering on the rumor that they had been flagged as “ANTIFA” activists after attending a rally in Virginia Beach to support an electoral candidate. At the rally, some people had brought fruit to throw and lit firecrackers, several were arrested. The raid on their neighbors’ house was executed in a SWAT fashion, in the middle of the night. There were photos posted on Facebook of the black trucks cruising through the neighborhood and their neighbors lying handcuffed on their manicured lawn.

Although the ship was underway for a short training mission, it was carrying a full complement of weapons and had been through the normal training cycle in preparation for an upcoming Middle East deployment. Jake was sipping on his second cup of coffee as the day began to warm up when he received a call from the Combat Information Center (CIC). The Tactical Action Officer (TAO) was requesting his presence. He hustled the three decks down, navigating the steep ladders easily after years of practice. The TAO showed him a chat from the Strike Group Commander, the first Admiral in his chain of command, with an odd tactical order. He was to launch a helicopter and proceed 30 miles to the east, locate a privately owned motorboat, and once a positive ID was established, his direction was to “engage with 5-inch guns until destroyed.” 

He paled at the order. It was something he had never seen before. Was this a terrorist threat? The TAO was noticeably shaken and pale as he pointed to the name of the boat, Telluride. “Sir,” he said, with a shaky voice, “I know the owner of that boat – he lives in my neighborhood – what’s going on?”

Jake took the ship to battle stations and ordered the Officer of the Deck to start the ship moving in the direction given by the chat from his Commander. He launched the helicopter and ordered it to fly off to the east, toward the motor vessel Telluride. The helicopter crew was able to determine that the boat did have the correct name, and there were four people on board. This information was relayed back to the Strike Group Commander, and they were told to reach out for a final positive identification. The Bridge-to-Bridge radio they used to hail the boat could be heard in CIC. The TAO ripped the headphones from his head when he heard the voice of his friend and neighbor answer the call over the radio. He turned to Jake and said, “Captain, I will not be part of this. I do not believe the extrajudicial killing of U.S. citizens in territorial waters is a lawful order. I request to be relieved from watch, and you can impose whatever sanctions or consequences you please, but I will not execute this order.”

Jake called down the Combat Systems Officer to take the TAO watch and called a meeting with his Department Heads and Command Master Chief. They discussed the order and its implications, but at the end of the discussion, Jake knew that he alone had to decide how to proceed.

At this point, he had been in the Navy for 22 years, starting at the United States Naval Academy, and working his way up through the ranks to command a Navy destroyer. He loved the Navy and his country. He had been imbued with a sense of duty to follow orders and carry out the nation’s business since he was 18. He had been to war, defending merchant vessels against drones shot at them from the Houthis during his deployment as Executive Officer on the same ship last year. He considered himself a good leader and a solid tactician, but he had never come up against something like this.

Politics aside, he thought back to his leadership and ethics courses, including such topics as rules of engagement and the law of the sea. The idea of attacking a vessel that presented no physical threat, and then making no effort to pick up survivors, seemed abhorrent to him. And yet the order implied exactly that.

He realized that he did not have much time to act. He thought about his mentors and his father, his family, and his neighbors, all individuals that he could normally lean on for advice, but suddenly he felt very alone.

He sat with his thoughts for about five minutes, which seemed like an eternity. With more resolve than he expected, he picked up the red confidential telephone and reached out to his direct superior, the Commodore. He had been underway for several days and had not seen the local or national news in detail, but the Commodore explained that the group of individuals at the rally had been declared to be part of ANTIFA and declared members of a “domestic terrorist organization” under the new executive order issued in September 2025. This put them in essentially the same category as the suspected Venezuelan drug boat crews who had been attacked and destroyed in the Caribbean by U.S. forces earlier this year. Apparently, the individuals on the motorboat Telluride, like his neighbors, had been at the rally and had been declared hostile to the United States as members of this domestic terrorist group.

There was a desire to make a bold statement via a show of force – hence the order to attack instead of making an arrest. “And,” added the Commodore, “make sure you get good video.”

Jake took a deep breath, aware of the implications of what he was about to say. His heart was racing as he said, “Commodore, I have received the order to destroy a civilian commercial boat, and I understand the direction given and the reasoning behind it. I do not intend to carry out what I consider an unlawful order and will not give batteries release for the destruction of motor vessel Telluride.”

There was silence on the line, and then the Commodore told him to stand by. Several minutes passed before coming back on the line: “Jake, listen to me carefully. Either you execute the order as given or turn over command of your vessel to the Executive Officer. Do you understand?” Jake stared straight ahead as he replied, “Yes, sir, I understand. I will turn command over to the XO.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and put down the receiver.

Before heading to the bridge, he called up to the Officer of the Deck and gave the order to break off the engagement, recover the helicopter, and turn the ship west towards Norfolk. He quietly sipped his coffee, sent a note to his wife on the computer that he loved her, and opened the desk drawer where he kept his 9 mm pistol. He stared at the gun for a full minute, then shut the drawer.

As soon as the helicopter landed and the motorboat was over 15 miles away on the horizon, he walked up to the bridge and reported himself to the Executive Officer. He said simply, in a loud voice, “Attention in the pilothouse, this is the Commanding Officer. I relinquish command to Commander Smith. I will be in my cabin until we return to port.” There was a stunned silence on the bridge, and many of the crew hung their heads. Some breathed a sigh of relief, some rolled their eyes. One clapped but was quickly silenced by a glare from the XO.

As he prepared to leave the bridge, Jake heard a noise in the sky. He and the Executive Officer both looked up to see a small drone pass overhead with a low humming noise, traveling at an altitude of 500 feet as it disappeared to the east. About a minute later, a small puff of black smoke appeared on the horizon. Jake closed his eyes for a moment, then heard the muffled boom of a distant explosion.

Slowly, he descended the ladder towards his cabin. His life, like that of many others, would never be the same.

Jay Turner is a pen name for a retired naval officer.

Featured Image: Art created with Midjourney AI.