by Lars Teeney
“Hello, Friar Valentine. I never expected to see you again, least of all here in La Chorrera,” Friar Francis said coldly.
“Friar Francis. It’s been a while,” Angel said dryly.
“Speaking of unfinished business: the last time we met, you left me with a parting gift to last a lifetime. I never got to pay you back.” Friar Francis reached up to her veil and unfastened it. As it fell away from her face Angel couldn’t help but shirk slightly. The face it revealed had a gaping hole on the side of the cheek, which exposed teeth and spaces where teeth had once been. A trickle of saliva ran down her neck, originating from the hole. On the opposite side of the face from the hole were prominent scars that ran the length of cheek; deep fissures in the flesh. Angel locked eyes with Friar Francis, in an exchange that seemed to last a lifetime. The tension rose in the room, and both sides waited for the other to act first: a classic standoff. Then suddenly and violently the silence was broken,
“¿Hola a todos. Es lista la cena? (Hello everyone! Is dinner ready?)” Friar Benedict rushed into the hall, excited at the sight of the pile of food in the middle of the room. He did not pay attention to the armed standoff and his sudden action spooked Pale-Silence, who quite by instinct, threw a well-placed tomahawk directly into the portly Friar’s sternum. Blood streamed down from the wound and stained his white cloak. Friar Benedict fell to the ground, lifeless.
“Kill them! Kill them all! Fire on the fleet! Open fire!” Monsignor Carafa grew furious at the site of his fallen comrade. He drew from under his cloak, the shaft of his spear which he extended and ignited its plasma blade. Friar Francis refastened her veil and drew her saber. Friars’ Leo and Pius drew their weapons and advanced slowly. Likewise, the Apostates brandished their weapons. Pale retrieved his tomahawk from the corpse of Friar Benedict.
“It appears that you were right, Angel,” Hades conceded to her. Hades sent a hail to the Iowa for the battleships to open fire on the fortress. Captain Eldridge did not respond, nor did anyone on the bridge of the Iowa.
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Gale-Whirlwind ascended the rope ladder leading up to the weather deck of the Iowa. She did not see anything out of the ordinary on the deck; no sign of attack. She advanced forward with her assault rifle at the ready. Gale decided she would head to the bridge. She slowly made her way forward as she cleared every angle. She reached the hatchway to the bridge, opened the door and cleared the corridor, then entered weapon first. The scene that greeted her was mass carnage. The Captain and the entire bridge crew lay dead, violently slaughtered by some unknown assailant. Blood was spattered throughout the space, and there were signs of a major struggle. Gale checked the vitals of Captain Eldridge; it was too late.
At that moment, Gale received a hail from Hades who ordered Captain Eldridge to have the battleships of the Apostate fleet open fire on the fortress. Gale panicked for a moment: someone had assassinated the bridge crew and the Captain who commanded all the battleships in the fleet, they were about to engage in a naval battle and suddenly had no leadership. What could she do? Then, she remembered that Ravine had upgraded the fire control and targeting systems to interface with neural implants. But, she had no idea how to initiate control of the system. Gale hailed Ravine through the [Apostate-net], and waited for his reply, all the while cursing him for his drug use. After a moment, Ravine answered the communiqué.
“Hey, Gale. What is going on? It sounds like all hell is breaking loose,” Ravine excitedly asked.
“Listen, damn it! The entire bridge crew of the Iowa is dead, including the Captain! Hades gave the order to fire on the fortress! How the fuck do I take control of the firing system on the bridge?” Gale yelled with panicked fury.
“Your retinal H.U.D.: select the network, [Iowa]! You’re on the list of authorized operators! It’ll verify you biometric data and give you access!” Ravine tried to walk her through the process as best he could. He was not in the best frame of mind because of the side effects of the ‘Database’.
“Okay, I’m in! Now, what?” Gale asked with urgency.
“Now, you have to practice using the system!” Ravine responded. He had barely even tested out the system himself. It used various long-range sensors, SONAR, and advanced RADAR to compile data and render a three-dimensional representation of the immediate surrounding area; land, and sea. The user was presented with the rendering on their retinal H.U.D. They would then need to select a target and compensate for range, elevation, and wind. The targeting computer assisted slightly with calculating the range, but the user still had to aim. There was so much territory to cover; he didn’t know where to start.
“God damn you, Ravine! There’s no time! I have to do it now!” Gale was livid and panicky. She tried to feel her way around the interface.
“Okay, Jesus! You have to set the target. Select the fortress. It should display the approximate range. It’s a matter of trial and error for setting the altitude of turrets. You’ll have to give it your best guess and enter an angle! It’s the only way. Hold on! I’ll join you on the Iowa!” Ravine informed her and he signed off. Gale examined the range to target and set an arbitrary angle of fire. There was still crew that was required to load the turrets manually, so she communicated with them and instructed them to prepare to fire. Shells were being loaded into the turrets.
Gale was keeping an eye on the fortress while she waited for the “ready to fire” from gunnery crews. She saw activity on the top level of the fortress; she zoomed in the view. Howitzers prepared to fire. She saw the muzzle flash and recoil from one cannon. Outside the ship, the shell went screaming overhead in a wide arc. The round impacted in the water between the Iowa and the New Jersey.
“All Captains! This is Gale-Whirlwind, I have assumed control of the Iowa as the bridge crew has been incapacitated! All battleships are ordered to fire upon that fortress! We are receiving hostile fire!” Gale relayed the message. At last, she received the all clear to fire and willed all three, triple-barreled turrets to fire. Thunderous blasts rang out, as a full broadside was let loose against the fortress. The shells screamed across the water but did not hit shore. They fell short; creating massive spouts of water that soared high in the air.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” She was panicking again. She would have to recalculate and readjust. Meanwhile, another shell released from the fortress impacted just feet away from the battleship New Jersey.
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Captain O’Leary held the Conn of the New Jersey. She liked to do things the old-fashioned way. No fancy neural implant interface with her ship’s targeting systems; just good, old spotting techniques. The gunnery spotters on the bridge reported back with the correct angle of fire and the turret crews had finished loading shells. They were ready to send a broadside down range.
“All batteries, fire at your leisure!” Captain O’Leary barked the order with a voice of gravel.
A terrible barrage was let loose from all three batteries. One set of shells impacted in the soil at the base of the fortress, which absorbed the explosive energy of the blasts and did not damage the fort. Another set of shells missed the fortress entirely, hurdled passed, to blow up half a block of abandoned warehouse space. Shrapnel and debris were tossed into the sky and rained down on a crowded market, which sent a few stubborn patrons scattering in all directions for cover. The last shots struck the fortress in a one of the gunnery ports that dotted the side of the fortress. The explosion had torn through an artillery piece and its munitions caused a chain of explosions, which hollowed out a good portion of the wall at that point.
“Fuck yes) That is what I’m talking about! Okay, all gunnery crews are advised to aim at that weak point in the wall of the fortress. Prepare the next salvo!” Captain O’Leary commanded. She was proud of the damage that she inflicted on the fortress. She watched as the artillery within the fortress struggled to reposition their guns to score a hit on an Apostate ship. Captain O’Leary felt confident she could knock out a significant amount of the
enemy artillery pieces with her next salvo. She was informed that the turrets were ready.
“All batteries, you are clear to fire at the breach in the wa—” Suddenly a blast rang out on the New Jersey, and a massive breach had formed in the hull of the ship and seawater rushed in and flooded a compartment, which was promptly sealed off by a damage control crew. Captain O’ Leary demanded to know the source of the blast because it had not been the result of a shot from the fort. She wondered if they could have been struck by a torpedo. In an instant, a woman appeared on the bridge. She was wearing armor blazoned with crosses and she was bald, with a cross-shaped scar on her forehead. The woman was one handed. Something hovered next to her shoulder in the air.
“Hear me: Apostate scum. You have all have been sentenced to death. My mission is to eliminate all enemies of the faith,” Prelate Inoguchi recited to the confused bridge crew.
“So, you’re the individual responsible for damaging my ship. You’re gonna fucking pay for that,” Captain O’Leary warned her, as she rolled up her sleeves and slowly approached. Other crewmembers jumped out of their stations and rushed Prelate Inoguchi. The Prelate willed her disk-shaped drone to fly at her assailants. It plowed into one man’s head, fracturing his skull. It made a second man duck, then, the drone flew back to her side and hovered static.
“All personnel: the bridge of the New Jersey is under attack! Assistance is needed!” Captain O’Leary sent the distress call over the [Apostate-net]. Security crews from all around the New Jersey were mobilized into action, and personnel rushed for the bridge from below decks. Captain O’ Leary rushed the Prelate and raised a fist for a monumental strike. In that instant, a howitzer fired a shot that tore across the sky and pierced the stern of the New Jersey, which rocked the ship. This knocked the Captain off balance. The Prelate took advantage of this, fired up her plasma knife, and with a stabbing motion brought it down on the Captain’s chest. But, O’ Leary acted fast grabbing the Prelate’s wrist before she could penetrate the sternum. The Captain gritted her teeth in pain and let out a beastly growl. The Prelate attempted to drive the knife into the Captain’s chest with brute force, but she could not match the Captain’s strength. The Captain wound up her free right hand and landed a crushing hook across the Prelate’s face, which stunned the Prelate. The Captain grabbed the Prelate’s other handless arm and attempted to break both. The Prelate pulled her head backward and landed a thunderous headbutt to the Captain’s mouth. The audible cracking of teeth could be heard. The impact forced the Captain to relinquish her grip on the Prelate’s arms. The Prelate was free. The Captain spat broken teeth from her mouth, then, slowly, rage filled her soul. Her stout face took on an expression of a demon possessed, and she worked up a large, guttural fury that manifested itself as she charged the Prelate, like a raging bull. She caught the Prelate square in the midsection and the two women were sent hurtling through the reinforced glass of the observation screen. The two fell to the weather deck, after taking a tumble; both dazed and exhausted.
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Gale-Whirlwind recalculated, and ordered the batteries of the Iowa to fire. Another broadside was fired, blazing through the sky. This time the shooting arc was too high, and the rounds overshot the fort, impacting at three different points in La Chorrera. One round slammed into a row shanties, flinging sheet metal and particle board scraps high into the air, another round plowed into and urban agricultural field, digging deep into the soil and sending bits of melon, cabbage, and tomato all across the town, and the third round was a direct hit on the town hall building which blew a gaping hole in the cinder block wall of the second floor, collapsing part of the building. Gale cursed to herself because the “sight in” of the turrets was incorrect. She had heard from Captain O’Leary that the New Jersey had been boarded and was under attack, but she did not know who could have launched the attack. Gale had not seen any ships approach. Could it be the Aqua’s assassin finally appearing at the most opportune moment? As she was readjusting and recalculating, a howitzer from the fortress opened up and sent a round straight for the Iowa. The shot was off the mark and so it resulted in a glancing blow off the side of the ship’s hull that ricocheted into the water. Gale was rattled by the near hit; she knew the next shot would be right down the middle of the ship. Gale set the new values to aim the guns; the crew loaded the turrets and informed her of readiness. She ordered all batteries to fire, and a cannonade was let loose. This time, the guns were aimed right on target. The shells careened into the weakened wall of the fortress and added their destructive energy into collapsing an entire face of the fortress, exposing a cross-section of the ant-farm interior.
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The fight had barely begun when the town hall seemed to fall in on itself. The shoddy construction of the building was apparent when the front facade caved-in and portions of the high ceiling of the gala hall collapsed, sending woodwork, plaster, insulation, and wires falling down among the combatants within. Order members and Apostates alike dove for cover. Monsignor Carafa had been buried by a portion of collapsed ceiling. He had found a niche that shielded him from the full weight of the collapse. Aside from cuts and bruises, he was unhurt. The same could not be said for Friar Leo, whose right arm had been crushed by rubble. Friar Leo managed to free himself. He caught sight of Angel-Seraphim, who was lying there among the debris. It was not known to him if she was dead or alive, but, he did not care. Friar Leo picked up a section of steel re-bar that had snapped off during the explosion. He stumbled over to Angel and raised the re-bar like a spear to impale her. A tomahawk thrown from behind him found its mark: embedded into the back of his skull before Friar Leo could perform the “coup de grace”. He collapsed; giving up the ghost. Monsignor Carafa had dug himself out from the rubble when he witnessed the demise of Friar Leo. The fury of the Lord entered the man, and he was intent on avenging his fallen Friar. He brandished his spear threateningly. Pale-Silence anticipated the Monsignor’s advance. He wrenched the tomahawk from the skull of Friar Leo. He kissed the blade, and flipped it in the air once, catching it, then, Pale took several paces forward and chucked the tomahawk, end-over-end. Carafa took a horizontal swipe with his spear and cut through the tomahawk like butter: splitting it into two pieces. Carafa approached Pale, who attempted to fight back, but the attack was overwhelming and he took the butt end of the spear to the jaw, and the plasma blade to the gut.
Hades-Perdition, who by now freed himself from the rubble, rammed into the side of Carafa right after stabbed Pale-Silence. Carafa tumbled and regained his footing, whipping the spear around to present the point to Hades. Hades brandished his claymore and assumed a defensive stance. Another explosion shook the building. Carafa took the opportunity of the confusion to launch an attack. He lunged forward thrusting the spear at Hades, who managed to barely evade the spear point. He felt the flesh searing on his arm as the blade passed closely. Using a “half-swording” technique, Hades grabbed the blade of his sword and placed his other hand on the hilt. He used the sword like a crowbar, and was able parry the shaft of the spear to one side, then, he slid his sword blade up the spear shaft and pushed the spear to one side of the Monsignor. He performed a draw cut that opened that side of the Monsignor’s neck, but it did not hit an artery. It was, however, messy and he stumbled back; in shock. He composed himself, with his cloak soiled in blood.
“You die now, Apostate! May you never know the warmth of the Lord!” Carafa exclaimed.
He launched a clumsy attack that was easily parried by Hades, who then slashed back with his sword, resulting in a blow that grazed the Monsignor’s chest armor, but failed to wound. A bayonet dagger was brought down from behind, between Carafa’s collarbone and shoulder blade. Angel had executed a surprise attack. Carafa countered by driving the butt end of the spear into her ribs, knocking the wind out of her. She fell to the ground gasping for air. Carafa turned to defend against the threat that Hades posed but by that time it was too late: before he knew what happened
, Carafa had been impaled by Hades claymore and lifted high off the ground. He gurgled and hacked as his lungs filled with blood. Carafa dropped his spear, struggled for a moment more, then went limp. Hades retracted his sword and dumped Carafa’s body to the rubble-strewn floor.
“Are you okay, Angel?” Hades asked her, wiping the blood from his sword on the dead man’s cloak.
“Yes, I’m good,” she confirmed.
“Pale is wounded badly. We need to get the hell out of here!” Hades yelled. He picked up Pale-Silence with one arm and slung him over his shoulder. He worried about Pale's gut wound, but he had no time to do anything about it. Angel composed herself and picked up the spear, Hades’s claymore, and the one tomahawk she could find. She did not know the fate of Friar Francis or Manuela Noriega. At worst they would live to propagate the suffering of the people of Central America, at best they were dead under the rubble. Angel could hear nearby impacts and explosions from the barrage of battleships. What was left of the town hall building shook and loose pieces of plaster and splinters fell from above. The three Apostates headed for the town hall entrance, which was partially caved in. They found the pile of their automatic weapons they had left previously. Hades picked up his M82 sniper rifle, but Angel left her gun behind because she carried too much. They rushed out of the building among the burning wreckage and strewn bodies. They kept low, and moved steadily. There were large numbers of bodies right around the town hall, which, had not been there when the Apostates entered. Hades surmised that the Order was preparing an ambush when the shell landed.
They started back toward the fortress and its marina, through the shantytown streets. Up ahead at the end of the street was a barricade attended by three armed men. Hades ducked behind an upturned dumpster and set Pale aside as he rested his sniper rifle on the top of the dumpster. He sighted-in on the range, and then let off three successive shots, milliseconds apart. The rounds found their marks and the heads of each man crumbled like cookies.