Battleship

USS JOHN PAUL JONES

“Dammit,” muttered Hopper as he watched the seemingly random, unpredictable movements of the remaining target.

He was still having trouble processing that somehow Sam had managed to get in touch with him. He’d always known she was resourceful, but this was beyond anything he would have thought she could have cooked up. There had to be someone there with her, out on Saddle Ridge. Maybe someone military. He hoped so. It made him feel a little better knowing that perhaps there was an experienced soldier or Navy man by her side, working to get her the hell out of there…

I wonder who it is? Should I be jealous?

Then he pushed such dead-end thoughts out of his mind. This sure as hell wasn’t the time for them.

Nagata was right next to him, seeing the same thing that Hopper was when it came to the alien vessel. “They’re learning from their mistakes.”

Hopper nodded. “We can’t hit him. Can’t lock a missile on his movement.”

“They’re smart.”

“Yeah, well we’re not exactly a bunch of dummies ourselves. If nothing else, we bloodied them up pretty good, so that bought us some time. They’re not going to come right after us.”

“Too bad,” said Nagata. “Recklessness on their part could have worked in our favor.”

Hopper hated to admit it, but Nagata was right. Can’t be helped now, though. No sense dwelling on it. We need to focus on what’s next, not what was. “We know a few things,” said Hopper. He ticked them off on his fingers. “If you hit them, they come after you. They value their own. So if you kill them, they seem to resent that. Agree?”

“Agree,” said Nagata.

“We also know they don’t handle light very well, and their ships are not bulletproof. They are hittable.”

“Yes, agree.”

Hopper considered all of it a moment and then picked up the radio. “CIC to engineering. Beast, give me good news.”

“We’ve shored up the port engine,” Beast’s voice came back. That alone was enough to prompt a sigh of relief from Hopper. Beast continued, “I can give you 10 knots now and 20 in ten minutes.” Then Beast’s voice suddenly became fainter and Hopper realized Beast was facing away from the radio on his end, speaking to someone else softly, thinking his voice wasn’t being heard. He was saying, “Hiroki, can you give me twenty in ten?” A second later he came back on and said, “Yeah. Definitely twenty in ten.”

Hopper smiled at that, but he didn’t let his amusement sound in his voice as he said, “I’m holding you to that.”

He clicked off the radio and glanced at the monitor. The stinger was showing no sign of slowing its movements.

“I don’t think this one is going to make the same mistakes.”

“No,” said Nagata.

His gaze drifted to the island of Oahu. His mind racing, he said, “Let’s see if we can take him somewhere he doesn’t want to go, and hit him somewhere he doesn’t want to be hit.” He looked to Nagata for approval, but Nagata just appeared puzzled. This actually pleased Hopper—he was one step ahead of Nagata. This was shaping up to be a good day after all. “Miss Raikes.”

“Sir?”

“What time is sunrise?” He exchanged looks with Nagata, and this time it was clear that he was now on Hopper’s wavelength. Nagata didn’t smile—that would have been too much—but the edges of his mouth actually seemed to twitch ever so slightly.

Raikes, not sure why it was of that much relevance, checked her chronometer. “At 0553,” she said briskly.

“Okay.” He clicked back on the radio. “CIC to engineering. Beast, you said twenty minutes?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine. Meet me on the bridge in twenty-one minutes.”

“Aye, sir,” came Beast’s voice, but he sounded as confused as Raikes.

Moments later Hopper and Nagata were heading up to the bridge at a brisk pace. As they did so, Nagata startled Hopper by saying, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You are all that your brother was and more. So why do you act as if you were so much less? Why such self-destructive behavior?”

He glanced at Nagata as they walked and then laughed softly. “Do you have any idea how many people have asked me that?”

“Not really, no.”

“It was rhetorical.” He paused and then said, as they continued to move, “When Stone and I were kids, I was better than he was at… well, lots of things. School. Athletics. Strategic thinking. Everything. And I loved rubbing it in his face, because I was a typically obnoxious kid brother. And one day we were in the woods near our house, playing some game… I don’t even remember what it was… and he just got fed up. He stalked off and I ran after him, shouting and being snide. Suddenly the ground went right out from under me and I fell straight down a hill, which sent me tumbling into a river. Got knocked cold by a branch and the water just started carrying me downstream. I’d’ve drowned, no question. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital. Stone had jumped in and swam after me and pulled me out. And what woke me up was my father shouting at Stone. Telling him it was all his fault. That it was his job to watch out for me. And I thought, Son of a bitch, he saved my stupid life and he’s the one getting his ass chewed. And that was it.”

Nagata looked at him, confused. “What was it? That was what?”

“I swore I would never do anything to make Stone look bad again. That he’d be the hero of the family. Because I might have been better at all this stuff that, in the end, doesn’t matter… but he was the better person. And he deserved to have the world recognize that.”

“That is… very noble of you.”

“Thanks.”

“But I would point out that it doesn’t explain your obvious rage issues. Your tendency to solve problems with your fists. Your knack for self-destructive behavior.”

“What are you getting at?” said Hopper suspiciously.

“Simply that, at some level, you hated the decision you made. That you likely resented your brother for that decision, even though you’re the one who made it. You’re suffering from misplaced aggression. You really wanted to lash out at your brother or your father, but since you didn’t dare, you lashed out at others… including me.”

“Yeah, well… you had it coming.”

“Fortunately, you hit like a girl.”

Hopper stopped in his tracks and stared at Nagata, who simply stood there with one eyebrow raised.

Then Hopper laughed. Nagata’s face never moved a muscle.

Hopper started walking again, Nagata falling in step behind him. “Whatever, man. Hell, the only reason I told you any of this was because we’ll probably both be dead by noon anyway.”

“That’s very comforting.”

“‘Rage issues.’ ‘Misplaced aggression.’ Jeez. What were you, a psychiatrist before you joined the Navy?”

“No. But my mother’s one.”

“She is?”

“Don’t get me started on my mother,” said Nagata.

Hopper didn’t.

Once on the bridge, Hopper spread out navigation charts on the wide table and started tracing a line from their present location toward the island that was the target of his developing strategy. Nagata stood to one side of the table, Beast on the other.

“When we round this point can you hold her here tight? Just off Diamond Head?” Hopper said to Beast.

Beast studied it and was obviously running calculations through his head. “It ain’t gonna be easy. There’s an ass crack of a current in there. We get on its bad side, we’re gonna need a proctologist to pull us out.”

“Then it’s elbows and assholes all around.” Hopper tapped the link and called up the CIC. “How close is the stinger to us?” he said as soon as he raised Raikes.

“Seven miles and closing fast,” her voice came back. She was trying to sound unconcerned, as if an oncoming, swiftly approaching and seriously pissed-off alien vessel was just another day at the office.

Hopper shifted his attention back to Beast. “No kidding around. Can you do it?” asked Hopper.

“I can try,” said Beast. “Sir, I don’t get it…”

I can try wasn’t good enough. “Can you do it?”

Beast wasn’t going to promise something he couldn’t deliver. He stared at the map, at the area of the current, and he started to mutter a string of numbers. Hopper realized Beast was running engine revolutions through his head, making calculations. Finally he nodded. “I can do it.”

Hopper wanted to sigh in relief, but he kept it to himself. Instead, he turned to Nagata. “Captain Nagata, how’s your aim?”

Nagata nodded slowly. “Excellent.”

Hopper looked back at Beast, who appeared somewhat dubious for some reason. “Problem, Beast?”

“Permission not to be the one who has to tell Raikes that Captain Nagata will be handling guns… no offense,” he added quickly to Nagata.

“We’re going to need her behind the 5-inch,” Hopper said. “I have something else planned for Captain Nagata. Now get down to CIC and get us heading in the right direction. Leave the rest to me.”

“Yes sir,” said Beast.

Nagata watched as Beast headed off. “He is not sure what you have in mind. But he does not question.”

“Of course not. That’s not his job.”

“Yes. His job is to obey you. And your job is to issue those orders.”

“Are you telling me my job, Captain Nagata?”

“No,” said Nagata mildly. “It is simply a pity that your brother is not able to see you do it.”

“Yeah,” said Hopper. “Just think. If I hadn’t made the decision I did, it might well have been me on the Sampson. And Stone would still be alive.”

Nagata studied him and then said, “You are blaming yourself for your brother’s death.” When Hopper didn’t respond, Nagata continued, “That is foolishness. You did not kill your brother.” His voice hardened. “They killed him. And yes, I will tell you your job now. Your job is to make them all pay. Do not lose sight of that.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. As for your survival… I suspect, Alex Hopper, that you would have managed to survive the Great Flood.”

“We may yet have the chance to find out.”

The human vessel is fleeing.

They are under the impression that they can forestall the inevitable.

They believe that succor is possible elsewhere. They think that the Regents will allow them to flee the field of combat. They are under the impression that they have a say in when, and how, the testing will be ended.

Foolish humans. Only the decisions of the Regents commanders—the Land Commander and the Sea Commander—matter. The test is not over until the Regents say it is over.

How wrong they are. How greatly they will pay for their underestimation of the Regents’ resolve.

How utterly they will be destroyed.

The Regent ship is in pursuit. The end for them will come soon.

Diamond Head was a volcanic tuff cone, known to the natives as Le’Ahi, since the shape of its ridgeline was similar to the dorsal fin of an ahi tuna. British sailors had come upon it in the 19th century and, mistaking the calcite in its rocks for diamond, had dubbed it with the name it retained to this day.

The John Paul Jones was now making for it with such speed that one might think actual diamonds were waiting for those who could get to it the fastest.

The stinger was in pursuit and closing in as Hopper and Nagata hurriedly assembled a .50 caliber sniper rifle on the ship’s bow. Nagata glanced over his shoulder at the alien vessel as it drew nearer. “It’s not attempting to close the distance by jumping,” he observed.

“Don’t you get it?” Hopper said. “They’re testing us. Pushing our limits, seeing what we can do. They figure they have us cold, so why not see how fast we can go and how long we can sustain it?”

“Testing us because…?”

“Because they’re sending more, like Sam said. That’s got to be it. They want to see how much of a challenge we present so that they can be sure to be prepared for it.”

“And if we blow them all to hell?”

“Then maybe they’ll figure they’re overmatched and look for easier pickings, like… I don’t know, whatever planet the tribbles come from.”

Nagata’s eyebrows furrowed. “Trib… bulls?”

“Never mind. Not important.” He adjusted the sights of the sniper scope. “If I’m right, their bridge window is three feet wide. It’s inlayed a couple of feet. A 5-inch can’t take it out. Still, that doesn’t mean Raikes isn’t ready to rock.”

Nagata nodded and then glanced up at the bridge. Beast was behind the wheel, handling the John Paul Jones, as the point of the island loomed closer. “And your engineer is steering… why?”

“Because the best man for the job got blown to hell, and Beast’s stepping in.”

“Ah. Of course. I am… sorry.”

Hopper’s eyes glazed over for a moment. The faces of all the men who had been killed by these creatures so far floated in front of him. The creatures would pay. They’d pay for all of it. He forcibly shook himself back to the here and now. “Beast and I go back a ways. He always gets me. It’s like we share a mind. When you’re in this kind of pinpoint situation, that’s who you need. Someone with whom you’re on the same wavelength.”

Beast was grateful that the sea was relatively calm at the moment, considering the slightest surge of the ocean might be something that he couldn’t adjust for quickly enough. Tucking the John Paul Jones close to the shore behind Diamond Head, he glanced down at Hopper on the foredeck, setting up a second sniper gun.

He looked toward Hiroki, who was standing nearby and watching events unfold with clear apprehension. Hiroki was accustomed to rooting around in the depths of the ship; being up top didn’t seem to be wearing well on him.

Beast nodded toward Hopper and said, “Usually I get him. This time… not a clue. Is it the same way with you and your CO?”

Hiroki stared at him and shrugged. Not a word.

“Glad we could have this talk,” said Beast. “I feel like we’ve really bonded over it.” He glanced toward the horizon and frowned. Light was filtering over the ocean.

The sun had risen.

Beast noticed that the John Paul Jones was beginning to drift uncomfortably close to the rocks. If they were lying in wait here for the stinger to show, they couldn’t wind up losing their maneuverability—what little they had—by running aground.

Judging by Hiroki’s reaction, he was seeing it as well.

“Let’s do this,” said Beast briskly, and he handled the wheel with the finesse of a concert pianist.

On the foredeck, Hopper and Nagata were side by side, eyes on scopes, waiting for the stinger to show its ugly face. Without taking his eye off the impending target, Hopper said out the side of his mouth, “How good of a shot?”

“Pardon?”

“Back in CIC. You said your aim was excellent. How good of a shot are you?”

“Ah.” Nagata allowed a touch of pride in his normally dispassionate voice. “Champion rifle competition, Natsu Campu.”

“Natsu Campu?”

“Correct.”

“Natsu Campu?”

“Correct.” Clearly Nagata wasn’t accustomed to having to repeat himself.

“What is…?” Hopper tried to say it but was having trouble with the enunciation.

“I’m not sure how you say it in English.”

“Nutso… campus—?”

“Nat… su… Cam… pu.”

“You are the champion of…” He paused, working on getting it right so that he wouldn’t piss off Nagata. “… Natsu Campu?”

“Yes.” Nagata seemed relieved not to have to say it again. “In Hakone.”

He waited for Nagata to further clarify, but the officer said nothing. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore and, taking his eye off the scope, said in irritation, “What the hell is Natsu Campu?”

“Natsu Campu! Natsu…” He struggled to remember the English equivalent and then his face cleared as it partly came to him. “Summer campu!”

“Summer campu?”

“Hai. Yes. Correct,” said Nagata.

“Summer camp?”

“Yes. The 1991 Champion Summer Camp. Long Rifle.” He said it with such pride that it was as if he were telling Hopper about the Olympic gold medal he’d picked up during the biathalon in 2004.

Hopper became aware that he was staring openmouthed at Nagata, and then suddenly he realized from Nagata’s reaction that their target had just come into sight. “Remember,” he said quickly, the words all in a rush, “we’ll have to be both accurate and quick. The first shots will be for punching through the shields. Once that’s done, we’ll carve them to pieces.” He took aim, and his finger tightened on the trigger. “Let’s get her done,” he said, and he opened fire.

His .50 caliber gun cut loose, as did Nagata’s. The rounds ripped into the shields on the stinger’s command deck. As expected, he saw the shields flare up, and at first they were able to hold back the weapons fire. But then they began to crack and, within seconds, blew out.

He had a clear view of several of the aliens in the bridge, none of whom were wearing helmets. They threw their arms in front of their faces, their mouths open in what he was sure were screams of pain. They tried to escape the glare of the newly rising sun, like vampires seeking shadow, but there was none to be had. It was flooding every inch of their bridge, blinding them, sending them scrambling for helmets.

Along Waikiki Beach, Hopper noticed that tourists and locals, up and around to watch the sun rise and maybe even catch some waves, were getting way more than they bargained for as they watched a once-in-a-lifetime battle unfolding in front of them, courtesy of the U.S. Navy. Your tax dollars at work, he thought with grim amusement as he flashed a quick thumbs-up to Beast.

It wasn’t merely a congratulatory gesture. Instead it was the signal Beast had been waiting for. Immediately he radioed down to CIC. “Raikes! Cover target point, alpha with guns and birds.”

“Hello, there,” Raikes’s voice came over the radio, and Beast knew what that meant: She had the stinger in her crosshairs.

Hiroki, with a pair of binoculars, watched one of the aliens fumbling blindly for its helmet. “Hit him!” said Hiroki.

Raikes’s gun started firing. So did the guns of the other officers. Every available weapon on the ship was hammering away at the stinger.

The alien vessel tried to come about, but was hit by a broadside of 5-inch shells. It was clear that systems were failing all over the ship. Shields flared once again, trying to keep the ship impervious to attack, but after numerous shots the ordnance was getting through, punching into the ship’s shell, ripping the stinger apart. A blast tore apart the supports of one of the stinger’s starboard pontoons, ripping out the entire leg. The mortally wounded ship toppled sideways into the water. It started to slide beneath the surface.

“Oh no you don’t, you bastard,” said Raikes, moving to the missile station. “No quarter asked or given. You don’t get away that easy.” She targeted the sinking vessel faster than she’d ever targeted anything in her life. “Been saving one for ya,” said Raikes, and she fired.

The missile flew straight and true and struck the stinger just before it could disappear beneath the water. It was possible that the ship offered no further threat. It was also possible that it was trying to get away so it could regroup, quickly repair itself somehow and come at them again. Either way it didn’t matter, as the missile struck home, blowing the stinger to pieces. The explosion was massive, a gigantic spout of water leaping skyward.

Some of the spray fell upon the bridge, where Beast endeavored to fist bump Hiroki. But the diminutive Japanese officer was so convulsed with joy and excitement that he returned the bump with force that seemed insanely out of proportion to his size. So much so, in fact, that he wound up slamming Beast’s fist back into his face, causing the much larger man to stagger and almost fall over.

The civilians on the beach screamed in joy as the ocean water rained down on them, dancing around, shouting, “U.S.A! U.S.A!” It was likely they didn’t fully understand everything that was happening. But as far as they were concerned, if a Navy destroyer was blowing some other ship to smithereens, then the other guys were up to no good and were enemies of the United States.

Hopper watched from the foredeck as the stinger burned furiously. Then he turned to Nagata. “What was it again? Mitsubishi?”

“Natsu… cam—”

“Right, right. Natsu campu. Are you kidding me?” He stuck out a hand. “That’s some damn fine shooting, my friend. I give it up to you, Nagata, I really do. I—”

Nagata didn’t take his hand. Stirrings of the old animosity began to awaken in Hopper. Are we back to this? Are we back to dissing each other and—? Then he realized that Nagata wasn’t even looking at him, but instead past him. “Captain,” Nagata said slowly, “we have a problem. Something’s coming our way.”

The time of testing is over, and the Sea Commander is deeply furious. The pilot of the guardian vessel is his hatchling mate… was his hatchling mate. He is the best of the best, and now he is gone, thanks to the test subjects.

The Sea Commander will not tolerate this insult. Nor does he see any reason to prolong the encounter. He orders the top bay doors opened and the spheres launched.

That should attend to them.

Hopper stared at four whirring globes hovering in the distance nearby that strange alien structure, as if determining where to go. “Those things again?”

Ord’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

The globes were heading their way. Whirling blades had extended all over them, spinning away, and they were heading straight toward the John Paul Jones.

“Can… can the hull withstand those?” Hopper asked Beast.

“Captain, I don’t know what those things are, or what the blades are composed of, but if I had to guess, I’d say they’re going to shred us.”

“Not to mention,” Nagata added with his customary sangfroid, “even if the hulls were capable of withstanding the assault—which I suspect they aren’t—the crewmen…”

Oh my God. “Beast! Get below on damage control! Keep us afloat for as long as you can! Ord… just get the hell out of here!” As the two men scrambled to obey, Hopper hit the shipwide PA system and shouted, “Brace! Brace for…” He groped for a word and, remembering what Beast had said, shouted, “…for shredders!”

Using the defense systems was simply not an option. The shredders were too fast and too small.

The shredders fanned out, two of them coming in from the port side, the other looping around to the starboard. Fore and aft, a coordinated attack, leaving the ship nowhere to move and with no means of defending itself. They tore into the John Paul Jones, sliding down the length of her, tearing deep furrows in the metal.

Within the ship, crewmen who had moments earlier heard the captain’s warning and said to one another, “What the hell is a shredder?” cried out and jumped back as glistening blades tore through the bulkheads, slicing through the ship like a laser beam. The shredders dug into the John Paul Jones, jackals ripping into a crippled lion, tearing up everything they could get near.

On Waikiki Beach, the jubilation from mere moments earlier now seemed nothing but a distant memory. Tourists and natives alike stood there in horror, many of them screaming, but their screams were drowned out by the shrieking of the metal as the shredders tore through it.

The shredders crisscrossed the ship with such elegance that it almost seemed choreographed. Once each of them reached the far end of the vessel, they simply doubled back, creating more gigantic gashes in the hull. The John Paul Jones trembled and shuddered under the assault, helpless to return or slow the attack, helpless to do anything except take it for as long as it could. And that wasn’t going to be much longer at all.

The Sea Commander watches with silent approval, but also belatedly with just the faintest tinge of regret.

The spheres are not his preferred weapons. Missiles at least provide the prey a sporting chance. An opportunity to use their resourcefulness, to display signs of personal mettle.

Not that they do not deserve death for what they did to the Sea Commander’s hatchling mate. No, they most certainly do. But the Sea Commander would far prefer to attend to it himself. To pound the vessel into submission, then have a shuttle bring him over to the boat, have the ship’s commander brought before him, whereupon the Sea Commander would crush the life out of the creature himself. He would enjoy looking into its eyes as darkness claimed it.

However, that is an indulgence, and the Sea Commander—much like his other surviving hatchling mate, the Land Commander—does not believe in indulgences. Tests are for results, and wars are to be won. There is no room in that narrow formulation for personal vendettas, no matter how much satisfaction they may bring with them.

Let the spheres take them, then.

It’s a more merciful end than they deserve.

Two X-shaped gashes now festooned both sides of the ship. Explosions rocked her, making it look as if the John Paul Jones was trembling with fear over her impending demise. She began to list, water pouring in through the tears in the hull the shredders had ripped into it. The shredders promptly came back together in midair as if having a quick conference—baseball players converging on an invisible mound to decide how to handle the next batter—and then they descended upon the ship in four different directions, seeking to wreak havoc upon the crew itself.

One of the shredders came straight for the bridge. Nagata and Hopper were the only ones remaining upon it, and they hit the deck as the shredder tore through. The glass may have been gone from the windows, but the supports were all there, and the shredder ripped them apart, sending the upper part of the bridge crashing down upon the lower. Debris landed all around Hopper. He twisted and turned, trying to avoid it, and a jagged piece hit the ground not more than an inch away from his head. Had he been a half second slower or a fraction less lucky, the thing would have bisected his skull. Then again, with debris raining down upon him, it was hard for him to think of himself as lucky.

Nagata was as buried under debris as Hopper was. He was struggling to push it off himself, and then Hopper said in a low, taut voice, barely above a whisper, “Don’t move! Don’t even breathe!”

Having torn the bridge apart, the shredder was now hovering above it, slowly drifting right and left. Hopper was certain it was looking for signs of life and if it found him and Nagata, it would tear through them with as much ease as it was destroying the ship.

The shredder descended slowly toward him, blades whirring, coming closer and closer. Sweat beaded his forehead and his eyes were fixed on the edges of the blades approaching him. It doesn’t know I’m here… it’s not sure, he thought furiously. If it knew, it would come right at me, finish me off. As long as I don’t make any move against it, maybe it can’t distinguish me from the rest of the crap around me. Playing dead is the only chance we have, because we’re sitting ducks right now. This thing has us cold. So the only shot we’ve got is to hope it doesn’t know we’re alive.

Inch by inch it drew nearer, the steady breeze from the blades wafting in Hopper’s face. It came to within less than three inches of him, and he felt sheer, stark terror building inside, seeking release. He kept his teeth clenched against it, suppressing it, and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see the blades descend.

And then, just like that, the shredder was gone.

For a moment he thought it might be some sort of trick. That perhaps it was pulling back to see if anything moved, and once found, it would then attack again. But no. Through the demolished remains of the bridge, he could see it angling down toward his ship. It struck the foredeck and sliced right through it, sounding like a buzz saw, penetrating with ease and heading belowdecks.

Desperately he started trying to work the debris off him. He was at a bad angle, though, with no leverage, and couldn’t shove it away. Then he heard a sudden crash to his immediate right and inwardly jumped, afraid the shredders had returned.

Instead he saw Nagata, rising up from the dust and debris, taking only a second to brush at his uniform. Then he moved quickly to Hopper and yanked upward.

With Hopper pushing from underneath, the last of the wreckage was shoved aside.

Quickly Hopper flexed his arms and legs to make sure everything was still functioning properly. Nagata put out a hand and Hopper took it, and Nagata yanked him to his feet. Hopper staggered, coughing, over to the 1MC and punched the button, activating it. It was just about the only thing in the bridge that was still functional.

His heart died within his chest as his voice rang out through the ship: “This is the captain. All hands, abandon ship. Repeat, all hands abandon ship.”

Hopper’s voice sounded in the bowels of the ship, but it was making little difference to Ord at that moment. He was busy running for his life.

He sprinted down a hallway and the high-pitched whine of the shredder pursuing him was drawing closer and closer. Every second that passed he was sure he could feel the blades about to slice through his spine. He screamed at the top of his lungs as the shredder closed in on him.

And suddenly, as he passed an open hatch, a hand reached out and yanked him through it. It was Raikes. There was desperation etched on her face, but also determination. She was a survivor, and she clearly had no intention of letting the flying puree machines put paid to her or anyone near her.

The shredder reached the end of the corridor, whipped around, and was about to head right back after Ord. Suddenly a massive cascade of water crashed in through the hold. It immediately enveloped the shredder, which was helpless in the grip of the water’s crushing force.

Side by side, Raikes and Ord pushed the hatch door forward. Water came roaring up, pounding against it, nearly knocking the two sailors off their feet. But they maintained their footing, shoving with all their strength against the hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of water that were trying to shove the hatch door open. On the verge of being overwhelmed, they pulled desperate strength from somewhere at the last second and managed to slam home the door. Raikes spun the locking mechanism for good measure.

“It’s gonna flood all the holds!” shouted Ord.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock! What do you think ‘abandon ship’ means? Come on!”

They ran as fast as they could, trying to find corridors that hadn’t been rendered impassable by water or that didn’t have shredders maneuvering through them looking for new victims.

Their actions were being mirrored throughout the ship. Sailors were desperately struggling to close hatches against the increasing flooding, yanking their fellows out of danger whenever and wherever they could.

But there were the screams as well. The screams of men and women who were lost to the shredders, or their bodies broken by sheets of water hitting them with the force of jackhammers. The survivors knew that the howls of their lost shipmates would stay with them for the rest of their lives… assuming they managed to survive.

Hopper and Nagata were moving through the corridors and passageways, helping the evacuation wherever they could. Everywhere they turned they saw the devastation the shredders had inflicted upon the vessel. The air was slowly becoming thick with smoke from distant fires as explosions rocked the ship. You’d think the water would put out the damned fires, Hopper thought grimly.

The worst were the bodies they discovered. Men, women—shipmates—who were destined for a watery grave because there were too many to do anything about.

Hopper’s face and uniform were smeared with ashes and blood. Nagata was much the same.

Soon they were up to their ankles in water, and then their shins, and it was rising steadily. They sprinted up the gangways, having done everything they could, seeking higher ground, which wasn’t going to remain high for much longer.

More explosions rocked the vessel, and Hopper was thrown against Nagata, who caught and steadied him. The destroyer was shifting under their feet, angling sharply. It was easy to tell which direction by the tilt of the water that was rising below them. “Head to the stern! The stern!” shouted Hopper as the ship began to tip on its bow.

They raced toward the non-existent safety of the upper levels, hauling with them anyone they found.

And suddenly a blast of water roared in from a cross corridor. It knocked Hopper completely off his feet, sweeping him away from Nagata. He had a brief glimpse of Nagata’s eyes widening in dismay, his hand reaching for Hopper—not coming close—and then Nagata rapidly receding as the water bore him quickly and furiously down the passageway. Hopper tried to get his feet under him but the swirl of the water knocked him right off them again. He went under, splashing his arms wildly, and suddenly something hauled him upward. His head broke the surface and he looked around wildly.

It was Beast. He’d come in directly behind him, and although the water came up to Hopper’s chest, that was less of an issue for Beast, for whom it was barely waist high. “To hell with this whole ‘captain goes down with his ship’ thing,” Beast bellowed over the thunder of the water. “Come on!”

Propelled forward by Beast, Hopper was quickly able to get his feet under him. Seconds later they were clambering to the deck. Crewmen were diving off the rails, plummeting to the water. And it wasn’t all that far below, because the ship was going down fast. There was an ear-splitting roar of metal that evoked the noises that dinosaurs must have made when sinking into tarpits. Seconds later the super-structure of the ship collapsed.

“Go! Go!” Hopper shouted, and Beast leaped clear. Hopper had lost track of Nagata, and hoped the Japanese officer was already out of harm’s away, or as much out of it as he could be under the circumstances. Hopper was about to jump clear as well, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, despite Beast’s admonition. Instead he stared up, and he saw, in the distance, the alien tower sitting far off in the water. The thing that must have launched the shredders and was now watching Hopper’s first command disappear beneath the waves.

And as the John Paul Jones fell out from under his feet, he screamed up at the structure, shaking his fists in impotent fury. “You… you son of a bitch! You sunk my—!”

He didn’t have time to complete the sentence as Nagata came to him out of nowhere and shoved him clear of the ship. Hopper’s arms pinwheeled as he fell and then he hit the water. He went under, then kicked his feet, fighting his way to the surface. Seconds later Nagata was by his side, and he was shouting, “We need to get clear of the propellers or—”

“I know! I know!” If they weren’t clear of the ship when it went down, either the vortex created by its sinking could pull them down, or the massive wave caused by the water displacement could swamp them.

They swam as hard as they could, cutting through the water furiously. The John Paul Jones bobbed a few more seconds, as if trying to buy them time with its last moments and then slowly—as was inevitable—the destroyer descended beneath the surface of the water.

Alex Hopper’s first command ended the way it had started: with death, tragedy and violence. And there was no guarantee any of that was going to abate anytime soon.

The Sea Commander monitors the transmissions that are coming in from all over the globe. The humans, of course, do not have the instrumentation to penetrate the watery dome that seals them in, but that does not present a problem for the Regents. What does present a problem, however, is the human’s language. It is painful for the commander to have to listen to. So, as he scans the transmissions, he kills the volume and listens solely to the translation provided by his instruments.

There is someone whose primary job seems to be imparting information: “Scientists have confirmed that there was a UFO landing in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Hawaii. We still have no communication with anyone in Hawaii. The aliens have set up a barrier around the islands, which is preventing anyone or anything from getting in or out.”

There is someone who purports to be a man of science, or at least as close to science as these primitive creatures can command: “For years we have been sending out radio signals in the hopes of making contact with intelligent life.”

There is someone who appears to be some manner of leader. “Today I want to update the American people on what we know about the situation in Hawaii. First, we are bringing all available resources to bear to closely monitor the situation, and to protect American citizens who may be in harm’s way…”

There are more and more of the talking heads, an endless array of them, it seems. Why there cannot simply be one talking head, the Sea Commander cannot begin to understand.

“International efforts continue as the crisis in Hawaii grips the world.”

“Governments search for solutions as time appears to be running out.”

“Scientists now believe that invading forces are attempting to use the satellite transmission capabilities on Oahu, and with less than one hour before transmission becomes possible, all hope remains with the three Navy warships on the inside.”

The Sea Commander finds this quite entertaining since he is aware that the three Navy warships are, in fact, now zero Navy warships.