Battleship

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.

SADDLE RIDGE

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t how it all turns out.

Sam had conjured the final scenario in her head, the way the world was going to be saved. In the movie that was unspooling in her mind, of which she was now a part, she was convinced that she and her valiant companions were going to find themselves in a position to put an end to the alien invaders’ plan… and they’d do so with the help of—and in a perfectly coordinated attack with—Hopper and the intrepid crew of the John Paul Jones.

Now, as she, Mick and Cal stood on a ridge with a clear view down to Waikiki, she watched in mute horror as—far in the distance—the last remains of the destroyer sank beneath the waves. She saw men, small as dots from her vantage point, bobbing in the water, trying to get to shore.

She was suddenly aware that Mick was pressing up against her, and for a moment thought it was presumptuous of him to try to take advantage of the situation—right up until she realized that in fact her legs had given way and Mick had stepped in to keep her upright. Cal was coming in on the other side, also lending