Battleship

“…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.