Rule The Sea

Chiron's hooves clopped around nervously on the wooden floor paneling of the big house. Prophecies were never good, but this latest one had been especially disturbing. A child of Zeus or perhaps Poseidon was sure to make waves (both literal and figurative) for the demigod world, but a child of Ares...

The Oracle of Delphi had stated that this child wielded tremendous power, and yet it was somehow different from the kind of power wielded by any demigod before him. What this power was, Chiron could not even begin to guess.

~o~

Rain rolled off the tarmac in glistening sheets. The full moon cast dancing shadows across the scrapyard as the 10-story tall masts of derelict war machines danced with the waves. The groan of rusting steel punctuated the silence of the night. Droplets of water slid off his slick hair as he walked around in a trance-like state, his right hand extended in front of him as if he was searching for something that he had been trying to find for a long time. He wandered for hours, the bitter cold and wet soaking him to his core. Yet he did not falter, for his meandering path along the docks was slowly but surely taking him towards his goal.

For years the monsters had tormented him, chasing him through the dark city streets and lush evergreen forests of the North. Tonight that would change, he knew it in his heart. It had called out to him weeks ago, and he had responded by crossing the vast expanses of wilderness on foot. Now, he was almost upon it, the warmth of it's essence drawing him close like a moth to flame. He stopped and opened his eyes.

Looming above him was a giant steel mass. Lightening flashed, and he could see the distinct outline of cannons pointed towards the sky to fire at enemy aircraft that no longer existed. He squinted, and the faded print on the side of the ship's hull became clear: CA-141, a nearly complete but cancelled Des Moines class heavy cruiser left to rot in this ship graveyard for decades. He reached out to touch it.

Images of war flashed through his mind as his body fell limp on the dock. He felt the ship's spirit intertwine with his own. Anger coursed through his veins as he became one with the ship. It had wanted nothing more but to fulfill the purpose for what it was built: to fight. And yet it never got a chance, forced to watch itself rust into obsolescence as the years rolled on. However, it would be given a new life by him, a chance to finally fire its guns in anger and obliterate its enemies into nothingness. He felt part of his soul rip away from him and imbue itself into the cold metal. Then, darkness.

He awoke to an unfamiliar scene. Giant panes of thick armored glass let the golden light of the morning sun stream into room. Control consoles of various types were scattered about, but only one thing caught his eye. In the middle of the room mounted upon a pyramid of solid metal lay a majestic wheel of stainless steel. Then it hit him: he was on the bridge. He took a moment to admire the beauty of his surroundings. There was a certain aspect of military neatness about the room that triggered an emotion that he had not felt for many years. It felt like he was at home.

Fueled by the very spirit of war itself, the engines hummed to life with spectral power. The boilers hissed and cranked out an sea-splitting 120,000 shaft horsepower. The heavy cruiser inched away from its mooring, the shackles that had held it prisoner there for nearly half a century mysteriously gone. A series of whirs and clicks echoed through the ship as the formidable 8-inch primary battery of the Des Moines loaded itself and returned to firing position of its own accord, as if serviced and crewed by apparitions of those who had died fighting many years ago.

He was scared at first, but as the rusted brown hulks of the scrapyard gave way to the magnificent blue of the open ocean, he realized that the ship had become a vessel for his soul.

It would do his bidding.

~o~

Next chapter: Rule The Sky