The Apostates

by Lars Teeney

  Immediately the other destroyer escort and the battleship Reverend Wilhelm maneuvered evasively and scrambled to present a broadside to the Apostate fleet. The Reverend Wilhelm, with its six massive turrets, acquired independent targets with each one. The Regime destroyer trained its guns on the Iowa. When Gail observed this action she ordered the Iowa to brace for impact from the salvo. The barrage let loose from the destroyer tore over the open water, and shells began to drop all around. Three rounds impacted short. Another round from the destroyer smashed into the bulwark at the stern, damaging the weather deck, then skimmed off the other side of the ship. A fire broke out at the stern, but the damage done had mainly been cosmetic. The remaining rounds overshot, but one struck a sealift cargo ship, opening the hull to the elements.

  The Reverend Wilhelm lumbered into position, and it took its time to aim massive guns. Nervous crewmembers on the bridge sat in anticipation of a terrbile barrage. At last the six turrets fired their payloads. The recoil from the huge batteries caused the ship to rock back from port to starboard. The guns were so thunderous that the sound was heard like it had been fired from the decks of the Iowa. The screeching of high-velocity shells could be heard shredding air molecules as they traveled at supersonic speeds toward their targets. First to be struck was the Massachusetts: its forward gun battery exploded into a fiery wreckage. The powder magazine below deck was ignited and secondary explosions ripped through the front of the vessel. She was left a flaming hulk as damage crews aboard raced to put out the fires in the front of the ship.

  Next struck were the battleships Illinois and Kentucky. The Reverend was working its way systematically down the battle line. One shell struck the Illinois below the water line at its port-side; she immediately began to take on water below deck. The Kentucky took two glancing blows: one severed its forward anchor chains, and the other shell struck the angled-plane on the top of its forward turret, sending the round ricocheting into the sky. The Wisconsin was struck by all three shots fired from the number four turret on the Reverend Wilhelm. They were all well-grouped: scoring a direct hit on the bridge, then on the ships turret number two. The last shell barreled into the superstructure, coring it out and causing it to collapse. The Wisconsin was cut in two and started to sink immediately.

  “Shit! All battleships concentrate fire on the Reverend Wilhelm! Aim all guns at the forward battery! We can’t keep taking salvos like that!” Gale recognized the need to switch tactics, fast. Immediately the order was relayed throughout the fleet to all the captains. Ravine-Gulch and Hades-Perdition reached the bridge of the Iowa, after hunkering down for impact from the previous volley. Both had a look of worry on their faces and were about to deliver their advice for strategy how they saw it.

  “Don’t worry. I got this shit under control.” Gale had a look of determination on her face and judging by her eyes darting about she was busy analyzing data from the battle via here retinal H.U.D.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  “Doctor! Doctor!” Pale-Silence called out to Blaze. He had been jarred awake by the sounds of the raging naval battle.

  “What is it Pale? Are you hurt?” Blaze came rushing over to his bedside.

  “No, I’m stable. But, what is transpiring outside the ship? I feared that the minions of the Dark Prince had returned to this realm to reclaim my person,” the demon-man confessed.

  “Oh no! It’s nothing like that. I’m afraid Regime forces have caught us off guard!” Blaze informed him.

  “Oh, drat! I am quite useless in a naval engagement. I do not possess much knowledge in nautical matters,” Pale jested as lay there. He then coughed several times.

  “No need to worry yourself. Just rest up. I am sure Gale has the situation under control,” Blaze reassured him.

  Just then the Hermes rocked violently. The patients shuddered and panic set in. Cries of fear erupted across the ward. Blaze steadied herself. She sent a message to the captain via her neural implant and asked what had happened. The captain of the Hermes replied that the ship had been hit by a shell below the water line. Lower decks were taking on water and that damage control teams were sealing off compartments to stem the flooding.

  This worried Blaze: there were many critically wounded on board. She wouldn’t be able to move them all by herself if the ship began to sink. She coordinated with the captain to have the crew to evacuate the patients that could move on their own feet to the upper decks. Before long, orderlies and other staff rushed into the hospital ward to audit the patient list to determine which could be transported first. The most lightly wounded were roused from their beds and were helped up the metal stairwells toward the upper decks.

  Pale-Silence caught sight of this event. He tried to sit upright as best he could. He observed as all the lightly-wounded were evacuated. Why were they leaving the rest behind? Surely Blaze would not leave him there? The helplessness of his state was too much for Pale to bear. He was used to being on the other end: dealing the damage as opposed to laying, helpless. There was nothing else he could do. Pale-Silence would just have to trust in Blaze’s abilities to take care of her patients.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  “Goddamnit! I want that fleet sunk! Every last ship sent to the bottom!” Keir Schrubb was raging on the bridge of the Reverend Wilhelm. His anger was amplified by copious amounts of bourbon that he had ingested. The crew, already under pressure from the battle, were further rattled by his incessant shouts and tirades. The crew was experienced but unorganized, mainly because their captain was a drunk, who instead of directing the battle, spouted-off obscenities.

  “You fucking, useless cowards! The firepower of this vessel is awesome, use it!” Keir Schrubb paced back and fourth at the Conn, shaking his fist and kicking his command chair. Ensigns on the bridge were busy coordinating with fire directors on which ships to target next when the concentrated barrage was let loose from the Apostate fleet.

  “Brace for impact!” an ensign yelled over the tantrum of their ineffectual Captain. The officers on the bridge hunkered down and awaited impact.

  “What the fuck do you think you little shits are doing? Get back to you stations! Finish them—” Keir’s orders were interrupted by the first impact of the salvo from the opposing fleet. Shells flew into the stern of the Reverend Wilhelm, some glanced off the armor and were deflected into the water, other’s bit into the hull, prying open gaps with explosive force. Another shell ricocheted off the forward turret and was directed upward to hit the superstructure above the flag bridge. Keir was knocked to the ground as an explosion caved-in a portion of the ceiling; showering the crew with metal shards, sparks, and bits of wiring. A metal splinter grazed Keir on his left side, which tore flesh and fracturing a rib. The experience sobered him up quickly. He curled up in pain. Smoke filled the air in the bridge, and coughing and hacking were the dominant sounds. An ensign regained his bearings and looked over to his left. The radioman, who, sat beside him was dead, having caught shrapnel to the neck. Ventilation fans kicked in to clear the smoke from the bridge. Keir pulled himself to his feet; coughing.

  ‘Damage report! Now!” Keir shouted as he winced in pain.

  “Sir, the forward number one turret is completely destroyed. Secondary explosions confirmed. Multiple internal fires are burning. Our Superstructure was hit. RADAR and targeting systems are down!” the ensign reported.

  “What the fuck are you waiting for? Acquire targets manually, then!” Keir spouted at the ensign, who was startled by the outburst. He scrambled back to his post to relay the orders. The remaining turrets of the Reverend Wilhelm rotated to acquire new targets, but this time estimation and calculating angles was done manually, which took longer, giving the Apostate fleet time to also reload and acquire its own targets. The gunnery crews aboard the Reverend Wilhelm prepared the turrets to fire, and soon the order was given.

  The five turrets of the Reverend all fired independently and their gifts were sent off through the air to their recipients. The Massachusetts, whose d
amage control crew already attempted to contain a fire, was directly hit by all shots from the Reverend’s forward turret. The superstructure of the Massachusetts exploded, throwing a fireball high above the ship. The flaming ruin of a ship slowly began to take on water and started to sink. Next to succumb was the Illinois, which had been damaged in the previous volley. The entire port side of the Illinois was raked by shells; blowing open gaping wounds in its hull. This caused the Illinois to capsize to the starboard side. It wasn’t long before she went under the waves.

  The last three turret’s shells were not as well-placed, but some still struck their targets. The Kentucky took another glancing blow off its stern that caused negligible damage, and two other shells were complete misses. The aft number five turret on the Reverend fired way off-mark. Its shells were sent screaming high over the Indiana and North Carolina. One shell found a target, however: the Hermes, was hit on its starboard side below the waterline again, which caused the hospital ship to take on yet more water and list to starboard. This complicated the already frantic evacuation effort aboard the ship.

  With the Reverend’s second salvo spent, the surviving battleships of the Apostate fleet reloaded and trained their gun sights on the Regime’s super battleship. The guns of the Iowa, Kentucky, Indiana, North Carolina, Alabama, and Missouri blazed away, sending hell to meet the Reverend Wilhelm. The shells began to impact against the ship, and opened up modest holes in the port side armor. The number six aft turret was struck by multiple shells and blew sky-high, ripping the top off and sending its gun barrels into the sea. A round struck the Reverend Wilhelm on the port side adjacent to its bridge.

  Keir Schrubb, despite his wound, had resumed his rants and raves, “How dare you incompetent fucks let the Apostate fleet out-gun you! You’re letting this ship go to hell! Kill them, kill them al—” When the shell struck, it sent white-hot fragments through the observation screen into the bridge to embed in the walls, furniture and bodies aboard the bridge. Keir Schrubb’s rant was interrupted by one of these shell fragments. By the time he had realized what had happened, his lower intestines had been removed, and firmly implanted into his leather command chair. Keir felt around his core but only found an empty chasm where his internal organs were once situated. He collapsed to the floor due to lack of muscular support; so much had been ripped away. He expired shortly thereafter.

  A number of the bridge crew had been killed or wounded. The bridge was a twisted ruin, and blood coated most surfaces. The remaining officers that could still function looked to one another.

  “What the fuck? The captain is dead. We aren’t going win this one. Let’s surrender!” one officer exclaimed.

  “We are officers of the New Megiddo Navy! We can’t hand over the flagship to Apostates!” one portly ensign argued.

  “Nonsense! We have no chance here. If we surrender they may let us return home in time for the B.A.G.!” another ensign argued. After some back and forth, it was agreed that they would surrender the ship. So, a radioman set to raising the Apostate fleet to offer a surrender message.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  Gale-Whirlwind had given the order to reload the Iowa’s turrets. The remaining battleships of the picket line were doing the same: queuing up for another salvo. Gale felt victory was at hand. The Reverend was a large battleship, but it had been outnumbered and outgunned from the start of the battle. She had surmised it would be a matter of time before the Apostate fleet gained the upper hand. She prepared to give the order for another volley, but an ensign announced they had received a message from the Wilhelm. He handed her the printout.

  “ATTN: Apostate fleet. Flagship Iowa. The N.M.N. Reverend Wilhelm’s captain, dead. Surviving officers wish to surrender. Require assurances of safety for the surviving crew. Please respond,” the printout read.

  “What does it say?” Hades-Perdition asked Gale with anticipation.

  “It says their captain is dead and they wish to surrender. They want assurances that they will be treated well when in our custody,” Gale told them.

  “Do you think it’s trustworthy? It could be a trick,” Hades theorized.

  “I doubt it. Their vessel is in ruin. They can’t fight much longer,” Gale surmised. At that moment, an ensign announced another incoming message. This one was from the Hermes hospital ship. It required urgent assistance in evacuating the patients because the ship was taking on too much water and was slowly sinking.

  “I’m heading to the Hermes, to help with the evacuation!” Ravine rushed off the bridge to organize an assistance effort.

  “I’m going to accept their surrender offer. I don’t want any more killing today,” Gale resolved.

  “Okay, I support your decision then, Gale,” Hades deferred to her leadership.

  “Ensign! Please send a message to the Reverend Wilhelm. We accept their surrender offer. They are to disarm and scuttle the vessel immediately. We will pick up their men when they abandon ship. They will receive respectful treatment while prisoner aboard our ships,” Gale ordered.

  “Very good Ma’am, right away!” the ensign rushed off to relay the message to their defeated opponents.

  On the weather deck of the Iowa, Ravine-Gulch hastily collected volunteers together to go help with the Hermes evacuation effort. The men descended a rope ladder draped down the starboard side to an awaiting motorboat. Before Ravine could climb down, Angel-Seraphim came running after him.

  “Ravine! I want to help as well!” Angel shouted after him.

  “Fair enough, we need the help!” He welcomed her along and the two descended to the motorboat. The boat shoved-off and made a course toward the sinking Hermes.

  “Pale-Silence saved me when I was dying in the desert. I owe him, and, Blaze is my friend! I want to help.” Angel was overcome with worry, and tears formed in her eyes.

  “Hey! Don’t fret! That’s what we’re going to do. We’re going get them off that ship!” Ravine placed an arm on her back, trying to reassure her. The motorboat shredded the water as it traveled onward.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  “What a shameful day this has become for the New Megiddo Navy. Our last battle before the Second Coming—lost to a group of Apostates,” one ensign lamented. They had read the surrender acceptance message and were preparing to destroy sensitive material on the bridge, and to relay the order to disarm the remaining turrets.

  “Yes, it is shameful, but I will be relieved when the fighting is done. I only desire to be with my Lord now,” another officer added.

  “Here, here. The only thing that matters now is being swept into Paradise by Jesus Christ,” an officer mentioned. The men removed themselves from their stations and piled the dead off to one side of the bridge.

  “Subjects of the Church of New Megiddo! This is truly a sorrowful day for the forces of the Righteous! You presume you can just give in to the enemies of the Faith!” a female’s voice cried out.

  “What? W-who are you? You aren’t part of this crew!” I do—” Prelate Inoguchi interrupted his questioning.

  “I am an ordained Prelate of the Church of New Megiddo! I am on a holy mission for the Reverend Wilhelm Wainwright himself! How I got here does not matter. The only thing that matters is what I have found in front of me: officers of the flagship, the Reverend’s namesake about to surrender it to the Apostates! Shame on you!” the Prelate lashed out at them.

  “What would you have us do? We’re beat,” one ensign complained.

  “I expect you to fight to the last! I expect you to sink the Apostate fleet! By the authority of the Church of New Megiddo I command you back to your action stations!” the Prelate ordered with a thunderous voice. The officers looked at each other and felt courage flooding back into their bodies.

  “For Jesus Christ our Savior! Let’s kill those infidel bastards!” The officers rushed back to their stations and relayed orders to renew the fight. Crews all over the ship reloaded the remaining turrets and set about repairing damaged systems. The hydraulic engines
in the gun batteries began to hum with activity and the turrets rotated to acquire new targets; the preparations to fire almost complete.

  “Gunnery officer! I want their flagship targeted: the Iowa! Do not bother with those other piles of junk. That is the nerve center of their fleet!” the Prelate ordered.

  “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” the gunnery officer relayed the orders to the turret operating crews, who readjusted their aim.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  Gale-Whirlwind waited intently for the crew of the Reverend to disembark their vessel and scuttle it. She worked to obtain any intelligence she could on the situation in the surrounding waters about the Iowa. She observed the crew of the Hermes setting out lifeboats and loading the more mobile patients into them, and she observed the motorboat containing Ravine and Angel racing toward the scene. In her retinal H.U.D., she witnessed the flaming wreckage of several battleships in the Apostate picket line. She mourned the loss of so many lives: hundreds of personnel gone within less than an hour of fighting.

  “Ma’am! The Reverend is repositioning its remaining turrets! I think they are aiming at us!” an ensign shouted to Gale.

  “What?” She tapped into the forward visual sensor and trained it upon the Reverend to gather more information about the situation. They had just enough time to witness the guns of the Reverend open fire.

  “Everyone down! Brace for impact!” Gale shouted to the bridge crew. She threw herself upon the floor. Some bridge crew got to the ground before some unlucky members were caught in a blast that riddled their bodies with shards of glass. The mid-ship, number two turret had taken a direct hit, and the ensuing explosion had damaged the bridge. The second round that had hit the ship was near the waterline at the bow, and the Iowa was now taking on water.