by David Peters
The captain called out, “What’s the situation underneath us?”
A voice answered from the back of the small control room, “Bottom is coming up fast. Sand and a few rocks. Currently in four-hundred fathoms but that is half what we had at the top of the hour. The bottom is coming up damn fast. We are going to beach here soon, sir.”
“I want an all-ship alarm to sound at thirty fathoms, this old girl is going to rock and roll when we pound sand and I want people to have a heads up so they can prepare. Start spreading the word to be ready. Make sure they aren’t hiding in their huts, those things could fall over. I want them in the fore and aft hangar compartments.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Let’s hope we find sand anyway, at least something soft to land on. The thought of trying to get the life boats to the shore in this crap is not appealing to me and there is no way we can get these people in over a bunch of rocks and breakers. The surf would turn the lifeboats into pulp.”
“Right there with you, sir,” he said as he prepared the depth alarms.
The more shallow the water became the rougher the swells they had to ride over. Looking out the window through the pouring rain and wind he could see occasional glimpses of the distant shore. Waves pounded the beach and cliffs. Cliffs! It was the first time he thought about the fact that the ship could get pounded against a towering cliffside and not actually land on a beach. He made his way over to the navigational chart and looked at the course.
“When was the last time this was updated? Why don’t I see a damn log note on this?” the captain nearly yelled. “Who isn’t marking the damn updates?”
The crewman looked at his watch, “Four minutes ago, sir. Sorry, my fault. I’ll do better.” The young man quickly scratched the time with a grease pencil next to the last update.
Charles wondered if they would ever need to do it again then pushed the thought away, “What’s your best guess on where we are going to make landfall?”
“The bottom is pretty steady through this entire area,” he said as he pointed at the estimated course. “A few big rocks but I think we should be clear of everything until about here,” He grabbed several other higher scale charts. “The current gets a little unsteady here but the tide and current should keep us on a predictable course.” He pointed to a non-descript location about eight miles south of Newport. “That’s about the place we are going to start hitting bottom. It’s too shallow for us to drift much further north.”
“How accurate is this guess?”
“Best I can do, sir. I haven’t ever had to factor in wind this crazy though, with the current and the storm we are moving at nearly six knots.”
“What about rocks?”
“These charts just aren’t small enough scale. The big stuff is on there but nothing smaller than six meters. I won’t stake my rep on it but I would bet a nice tuna steak dinner.”
Charles smiled, “That’s a hefty bet, I’ll take your numbers.” He followed the depth lines on the chart, “It gets deep again here.”
“If we don’t ground out three miles before that, we will enter that channel and most likely pound into this jetty. It won’t be pretty. The water is deep there and rough as hell.”
He ran his hands though his fading hairline and rolled the tension out of his neck. Six knots into anything but sand would shred his ship. One hundred and fifteen thousand tons of steel had more momentum than he could figure out in his head, “I’m confident with your estimate. What kind of time does that give us?”
“Two hours, give or take. We could hit something big and stop earlier or drag sand for a mile or two.”
He turned back to the radio console, “You get Dylan back on the radio yet?”
“Negative, sir. Nothing but static and dead air out there right now but they may still be too far away.”
“I need to find Neil. James, you have the bridge.”
James looked around in confusion, “Sir?”
“Just look important and yell at someone every now and again. It’s not like anyone can do anything about it.”
“Okay, sir.”
Charles took one more look out the window and watched as another tree covered cliff side move in and out of view. At this distance they almost felt stationary but his experience told him different. Every ounce of his training screamed at him to turn the ship out to deeper water but there was nothing he could do. Without the engines, they were nothing but an overpriced barge. He was beginning to wish he didn’t look the other way when it came to who was running the stills on the hangar deck. He really needed a drink.
~6~
Dylan sat on a rock eating a thick-cut turkey sandwich with Caperson. Jokester and Travis were one-hundred yards further west, toward the hive doing the same thing.
As he took another bite, Caperson nudged him with his elbow, “Lettuce didn’t keep very well.”
“I noticed that,” Dylan said with a sour face, “It’s a few days past wilted.”
“Bread is good though.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“That new grinding wheel is finally paying off. No more bread with gravel bits.”
Dylan smiled then pointed toward the end of the long, straight highway, “Jen and Niccole just rounded the bend.”
Dylan put his lunch back in his bag and waved at the women a half-mile away. He called back over his shoulder to the other two members of the attack team sitting at the bottom of the hillside, “Wagons are in sight. Be here in another five minutes.”
Caperson, Jokester and Travis started gathering what they salvaged from the wagon and made their way out to the middle of the road. They had sat and watched over the now dead hive looking for movement and patrols for nearly six hours. One patrol pair had returned and they put it down before either Hunter ever made a noise.
Jokester began to take down the cannon while Travis loaded what remained of their Dustbombs back into the travel crates.
Caperson looked at the hive below through the sheets of rain, “I think that thing is dead, my friend.”
“It’s new. I don’t think it was more than five or six months old.”
“Good news for us, don’t you think?”
“It means they are still building, still expanding. I don’t see how that is good news.”
“Or it could mean they are trying to replace hives that have been lost. We had already smoked two of them before we whacked this one. There might be others out there that have managed to do the same thing.”
“I guess it’s possible.”
“Fancy meeting you gentlemen here,” Jen called out.
“You picked a fine day for a picnic,” Niccole added. “Any problems?”
Dylan smiled, “Text-book operation. One dead hive, no dead humans.”
Jen acted as if she were trying to look behind the men standing on the road, “I see your wagon team eating down by that fence line but I don’t see anything that they would pull. What happened to your wagon of doom? You decide it was too heavy to get back up the hill?”
“Okay, so we had a minor issue with that aspect of the battle plan.”
Niccole furrowed her brow, “And why does Travis look like you tried to barbecue him? Where are his eyebrows?”
“Okay, maybe more than one issue.”
“But the hive is dead?”
“Hive is dead.”
“No bites, scratches, or bleeding wounds?”
Dylan shook his head.
“I count the right number of horses.”
“Everyone is present and accounted for. We could use a little water though. The big container was in the wagon and it is a melted pile of plastic now.”
Niccole tossed her canteen down to him, “We are going to need full details on this little battle of yours.”
“Of course. It will give us something to talk about on our ride out to the coast.”
“Then let’s go rescue a boat load of kids and old people,” Niccole said with a smile.
~7~
“We can see you to the south of us now,” Niccole said into the CB hand microphone. “You are about seven miles away from us and what looks to be a few miles off shore. Damn, that’s a lot of boat.”
“Roger that,” a voice replied back. “Any sign of our friends?”
“Not in the last hour. We have seen one patrol moving south along the beach and another patrol moving south on the highway about a half of a mile behind us but both of those were several hours ago.”
“Don’t hesitate to break cycle if you see anything. They have to see us out here and be wondering what is up. Stennis out.”
Niccole slid the radio back into the plastic bag, “Now we wait. At least it looks like the worst of this crap is passed over us now.”
Dylan watched the ship through his binoculars, “Man, that is one hell of a lot of ship. How big is that thing, Caperson?”
“I seem to recall it being somewhere in the neighborhood of three-hundred meters long but my expertise was Army, not the Navy.”
Travis shook his head, “Do you have any idea what I could do with all that steel?”
Caperson laughed, “Tell you what, bud. When it beaches, you grab one side and I’ll grab the other and we’ll carry it home.”
Travis shook his head, “Don’t give me any ideas. I may just build something if you aren’t careful. I’m thinking something with rollers, you know like old pyramid building stuff. We could float it in Lake Sumter when we get it home.”
Caperson ignored the banter and continued to stare through his binoculars. After several moments he tapped Dylan on the shoulder.
He handed the binoculars to Dylan, “Check out that bluff about two miles south. See where it juts out into the water? That dead tree that kind of hangs out over the edge? Look at the base of the tree and tell me what you see.”
Dylan followed the coast with the powerful binoculars until he found the long spit of rock sticking out into the surf. At the end of it he could see two black rocks. Or at least he thought they were rocks until one stood and smelled the air.
“Looks like someone else is keeping an eye on our new found friends,” Caperson said.
“Ever seen them do that before?”
“Can’t say that I have but it makes sense. I would do it. Keep my normal patrols running and monitor anything strange like this directly.”
Travis added, “They watched Folkesburg prior to their attack.”
“Think we should report it to the ship?” Niccole asked.
Dylan shook his head, “If they leave we should but right now let’s just keep an eye on him. We still have a lot of daylight ahead of us and they have to know the ‘Rupts have been watching them.”
“The rain is beginning to die out so let’s keep movement to a minimum. If Hunters are cruising around on these bluffs, I don’t want them to see us before we see them. We aren’t silhouetted with the trees behind us and the wind is in our favor so we can take advantage of that.”
Niccole picked up the small walkie-talkie, “Wagon Lead, this is Niccole.”
The radio crackled, “Go for Wagon Lead.”
“We have watchers in the wood line over here. Keep your eyes open for random Hunters, not just patrols. They may want to look around a bit if they get bored. We don’t need any surprises.”
“Roger that, Niccole. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll report anything out of the ordinary or report nothing at half-passed.”
“Thanks, Wagon Lead. Be safe, out.”
The wagon team was currently holding tight nearly a mile behind them at a large rest area just off the coastal highway. They had a clear view of the surrounding area and excellent fields of fire for defense but the coastline was hidden behind thick forest and the bluff they were currently standing on.
Dylan turned the binoculars back toward the carrier. It didn’t even look like it was moving but he knew that it was coming toward them and would beach somewhere in the stretch below them. As soon as the Hunters figured out where and when the boat would stop, they would return with friends.
~8~
“Copy that, Niccole. How long ago did they leave the bluff?”
She looked at her watch, “Ten minutes. We waited to see if he was coming back but nothing yet.”
“Safe bet it is heading back to the hive to report.”
“It seems pretty obvious that you are going to beach here. They are going to return with friends. Probably more than a few.”
“This old girl still has a few tricks left in her. Don’t count us out yet. We have been planning for a beach assault since the engines went quiet.”
“I hope so. Without a wall and another few hundred guns, we aren’t going to be able to stop them in the open. We aren’t going to be able to fight them off if they locate us either.”
“Just stay off the beach until you see soldiers getting out of boats. Way off the beach.”
“Okay. Beach is off limits until we see you on dry land.” Niccole put the radio away and looked at the others, “You heard the man, we’re just spectators for the time being. I hope they know what they are up against.”
“I’m more concerned about them not hitting early and waiting until everyone is mucking around on the beach loading the wagons,” Dylan said absently.
“Do you ever not think about the worst case scenario?” Caperson asked.
“I’m alive aren’t I?”
~9~
“Is everything shut off below the water line?” the captain asked again.
“Yes, sir. Double and triple checked. Everything is secure and anything we want to take with us is on the hangar deck. All water-tight doors have been secured and verified. I posted watch-monitors to make sure no one heads below decks unnoticed.”
Charles nodded and continued to scan the shoreline for movement. He called over his shoulder, “What’s the sounding?”
“Three fathoms under the keel, sir. Coming up nice and steady-like. Bottom looks smooth as a bathtub. Crap, hold on!”
With a loud screeching and a sudden jolt, several people fell to the floor as they found their first rock. It continued to tear down the side of the hull as the momentum of the ship pushed them forward. Steel peeled away like butter as the ship continued past the boulder.
“Report?”
“Still floating, sir. Not sure if it got all the way through the hull. I’m not seeing any flood indicators.”
Charles looked around the control room to see if anyone was injured. Those sitting in their seats were fine, the sailors that had been standing were on the floor nursing new bruises.
He continued to scan the beach, “I have two groups of Hunters following us from the beach. I make the count at least thirty in each group. They look pissed.”
The Hunters would sprint forward several hundred feet then stop and smell the air before continuing to run down the beach. Their growls and screeches of anger growing louder as they came down the beach and the ship loomed closer to the sand.
The ship slammed into another rock and Charles decided it was time to belt himself in like the rest of those in the Combat Information Center.
“Just lost the forward depth sensor, sir. That last rock must have crushed it. We are in the dark for depth on the bow.”
The ship was running parallel to the shore and still moving at a little more than five knots.
“Depth at the stern?”
“Less than ten feet but the bottom is so stirred up from the storm and the bow hitting crap, it’s hard to say. It’s guesswork from here on.”
The ship jolted again as they ground against another outcropping.
“Her underside is getting shredded, Captain. I show flooding in compartments from stem to stern. We are six feet above the high water line now.”
There was a massive jolt as the ship struck the bottom hard. The submerged portion of the bow folded like aluminum foil as the weight of the ship drove the mass forward. At the keel, nearly thirty feet under the water line, a twelve foot wide section was torn away, reac
hing another ten feet into the heart of the ship. Water flooded one compartment after another as the side was peeled away by the tremendous forward energy of the ship. As more of the siding was torn away, it weakened the hull that much more.
The Stennis continued forward, barely slowing down as the outcropping was finally torn free. They continued another two-hundred yards before the mangled bow began to dig into the sand as if it were a poorly designed bulldozer. Tons of sand was pushed out of the way as the immense mass pushed the ship forward.
“Hang on!” Charles yelled as the shaking reached near earthquake level.
Panels of one inch thick steel peeled away like paper as the ship continued to drive itself into the sand. After several moments, the shaking stopped and the unnatural feel of solid ground filled the ship. Creaks and pops moved through the ship as the weight distribution added stress where it hadn’t been designed to be.
“I think that’s it, sir. All forward movement has stopped and flooding has equalized on all outer births. We are listing to port by three degrees and the bow is sitting six feet higher than the aft end of the ship.”
Charles stood and looked at the deck below them. Anything that was standing before the storm was now laying on the deck. He grabbed the binoculars, “Pretty sure I just lost my command.”
“Sir?”
“I beached one of the most expensive ships ever built.”
James laughed, “But, sir, you did it with style.”
Charles laughed, “I don’t recall that ever being brought up before. I like it, go ahead and make that the last note in the logbook if you would be so kind.”
He lifted the binoculars and scanned the beach several times. The Hunters were still there, staring at an entire ship of humans.
“Start getting all the life rafts lashed to the elevator decks. When it’s time to go, we will need to go fast. Make sure the civilians stay off the elevators until the deck crew finishes, I don’t want them getting in the way. Keep them the hell off the upper deck and waiting in the forward hangar.”
