Battleship

USS SAMPSON

The stinger turned its attentions to the Sampson. This time, though, they were firing the cylinders much faster, but one at a time instead of a barrage, as if whoever was shooting them at the destroyer was testing his marksmanship.

The Sampson’s Gatling guns roared to life, but the speed of the cylinders made targeting them more problematic. Several were picked off in midair, but one landed on the foredeck, transformed from white to red, and detonated. The explosion ripped through the ship. The windows on the bridge, made from reinforced glass that should have held together, blew apart. It was specially treated so as to shatter into dull pieces should breakage occur, and it performed as it had been designed to do. As a result, no one had to worry about getting shards of glass in their eyes. Still, the officers dropped to the floor to avoid the large chunks that were flying every which way.

“We’re hit!” shouted Sinclair.

“Signal all ships!” Stone shouted over the wailing klaxon. “Full reverse! We need battle space!”

The engine room responded immediately. The Sampson started to pull back. It wasn’t much; a ship as large as the Sampson wasn’t designed for quick maneuvers. But it was just barely enough to allow another cylinder to go screaming past them and land harmlessly in the water.

“Miss!” Sinclair called out.

The running narrative was beginning to annoy the crap out of Stone. “Save the play-by-play. Are we targeting this thing or not? Sling some MK 41s their way!”

His executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Leong, looked up from her instruments. “Sir, comm’s down again,” said the XO. “That thing that hit us… it scrambled everything that we had just gotten back online. Computers are down, radar’s down. All we’ve got are the close-in weapon systems.”

“All this hardware and we’re down to throwing rocks?” said Stone. He grit his teeth, seeing that the John Paul Jones was still under assault. “We’ve got to get in there. They need cover.”

“Five-inch was knocked off-line, but now is moments away,” said the XO.

“We’re not waiting,” said Stone. “Rudder hard right, engines full. We’ve got to get in there and give them some shade. Don’t tell me the gun’s not up.” Through his binoculars, he stared at the launcher on the opposing ship that had been firing those strange white cylinders at them. It had paused in its assault. They were probably reloading. He had no intention of sitting around waiting for them to finish the process. “Take that launcher out.”

With that order, the Sampson reversed course and hurtled forward, straight into the teeth of the enemy.