Carnifex

PTF Santisima Trinidad

Clavell and Guptillo worked their gun furiously, sheltering behind the mantlet at the heavy return machine gun fire from the ship. The Trinidad's own machine guns returned fire, of course, but seemed to be having absolutely no effect.

"Shit," cursed Clavell. He keyed his microphone and told Pedraz, "Skipper, we're hitting the thing, easily, and penetrating it, too. I can see the shells going off inside. But they're having no effect that I can see."

Pedraz was about to respond when a sudden flurry of fire burst from the Dos Lindas. He followed the tracers to where they impacted on the bow of the Hoogaboom. It was being chewed apart; that much was clear from the pieces of hull sloughing off under the fire. But beyond that? Nothing.

Machine gun fire raked out from the Hoogaboom, sweeping Trinidad's deck. Most of the crew was under reasonable cover. Not so, the machine gunners, and notably Santiona who was the target. With a scream, he went down, minus his legs and with the stumps gushing blood.

Without being told to, the ship's corpsman raced out from under cover and began tourniqueting off the wounded Santiona's stumps.

Hmmm . . . even the forty isn't doing shit to the ship. Hmmm . . .

"Clavell, target that ship's machine gunners."

God, why the fuck didn't we mount torpedoes on this thing? We're a fucking Patrol Torpedo Fast and we don't have torpedoes? Shit.