Ch. 45: Death of a Titan

A.N.:

About time, right? Sorry about the wait. I've had tests the past two weeks and I have another one in a few hours so I hope it was worth the wait.

Read and review if you want.

As I hit the water logged deck planking, every piece of knowledge that I knew about the Iowa-class battleships came forth from the farthest reaches of my mind. Before me loomed the giant steel mountain of the aft 16-inch main gun. With my combat shotgun at the ready, I began to move forward towards the entry hatch at the rear of the superstructure.

A ship this size required an enormous crew that numbered in the thousands. We only had a dozen or so marines. However, I was certain that our mission would succeed. It had to or our home would be in peril. Moments later, I was joined by the Marines, Alpha 1, Foxtrot, Juggernaut, Point Man, and Holiday. Looking back, I noticed that the waves had forced Athena to retreat away from the side of the New Jersey. As requests for fire support came from our escorts, she trained her guns towards the enemy fleet and began to open up with her massive main battery.

As I neared the turret, I noticed the CIWS located near the destroyed gunnery director. Quickly, ducking behind the cover of the main turret, I yelled, "CIWS! Take cover!" The marines took cover behind one of the moored Blackhawk helicopters on the ship's helipad along with F.E.A.R. Meanwhile, my team regrouped beside me.

The Vulcan of the CIWS could shred us to pieces if we did not take it out first. With Bravo 2 on-board Athena to provide additional gunnery assistance, we would have to take it out blindly. We would only get one shot to neutralize it. If we failed, the high velocity cannon fire from the Vulcan would easily prove fatal.

I looked at Alpha 1 and asked, "Think your launcher can knock out that turret?"

Bringing out his Andra SR5 Missile Launcher, he replied, "Fifty-five percent chance."

Motioning at the CIWS, I replied, "I'll take that five percent!" He moved to crouch just behind me to my left as he inched his way around the protective cover of the main turret's armored hide. For a few anxious moments, he aimed at the turret in silence. Suddenly, before he could fire his rocket-powered warhead, Alma materialized in her child form as she placed her tiny left hand on his armored right shoulder.

As he looked away from his launcher's scope, she smiled gently before she said, "Wait, my son, let me help you see." Whatever she did must have allowed him to see the weak points in the turret's armor because, moments later, after he aimed through his scope, he fired a warhead into the turret. The rocket-powered explosive exploded against the exterior of the CIWS. A fireball engulfed the turret as metal shrapnel flew through the air.

When it became clear that the CIWS had been neutralized, I motioned "all clear" to my men and we began to advance towards the entry hatch on the portside of the battleship's aft section of the superstructure. As we moved forward, my com link activated as it picked up a communication from our Russian battlecruiser.

The first part was most likely the First Mate, "Captain, the ship is lost! We cannot hold back the flooding any longer."

Alarmed, I looked towards our fleet. Sure enough, a huge column of jet black smoke was billowing up from the listing battlecruiser. The earlier damage inflicted upon her by the cruise missiles had probably caused significant damage and the subsequent damage inflicted by the enemy escorts had sealed her fate. However, knowing the Russians like I did, they were not going to take that lying down.

Sure enough, the ship's captain replied, "Then it's time to get a new one." As I watched, the crippled ex-Soviet battlecruiser used the last ounce of her strength to bring herself alongside the elderly three-smokestack Russian cruiser Aurora. Meanwhile, Athena provided covering fire by neutralizing the enemy escorts in their path with her 20.1-inch main guns. In total, by the time that I had reached the entry hatch, Athena had neutralized three Arleigh Burke-class destroyers and one Oliver Hazard Perry-class frigate to clear the way for the sinking cruiser. The Iowa and the forward main guns of New Jersey attempted to inflict similar carnage upon our vessels but the fast and maneuverable ships among our escorts were easily capable of dodging the massive shells of the battleships.

Upon reaching the hatch, we found that it was sealed. However, as my body was enveloped by a red aura, I used my psionic abilities to force the hatch open. Taking point, I entered the superstructure with my combat shotgun at the ready. I was met by a large, almost dining hall-looking space that surprised me with how furnished it was. I would even go so far as to describe it as old-school luxury ocean-liner type furnishings in terms of how fancy the wooden furniture appeared. Then, I remembered that the New Jersey, like her sisters, was a museum ship that had likely been hastily thrown into action. That would explain the model of the ship that was inside a glass case located in the center of the large room.

The realization caused me to reflect on what kind of mindset people had to be in in order to build a weapon like a battleship. To be able to be turned back into a weapon of shock and awe after being a museum ship at the drop of a hat was nothing to be proud of. People did not understand their true capacity of survivability. Even after they were "sunk", battleships were not truly destroyed. This was demonstrated by the American battleships in Pearl Harbor. True, the Japanese aviators caused catastrophic damage among the warships moored along Battleship Row. However, what people rarely remembered was that, in less than two years with the exception of the Arizona and Oklahoma, all the battleships had been repaired and then marched across the Pacific like bats out of Hell.

As I made it to the center of the room, five hell soldiers entered from the opposite side through the open hatchway. I instinctively activated my reflexes and began to hip fire my shotgun at them. My first spread of buckshot peppered the point man of their team, which was noticeably bigger and had heavier armor similar to Armacham's Black Ops Heavy Soldiers, but the only result was for green blood to gush out of the areas where the buckshot impacted the creature's form. Quickly pumping my shotgun, I aimed down my shotgun's glowing sights and, once I had finished cycling my weapon, I fired my second shot straight into the creature's gas mask-covered head. This time, my spread managed to shred the hell spawn's head and he dissolved into ash.

With my reflexes still active, I switched my aim to the other four soldiers. The rounds from their assault rifles were clearly visible to me as they left telltale trails behind them. Firing two rounds in quick succession, I neutralized two of them. At least five rounds impacted my chest but, aside from the agonizing burning sensations, my chest plate absorbed them and I was left unscathed. By then, my reflex meter had been reduced to nearly a quarter. I deactivated them to prevent being caught in an unforeseen and dangerous situation without them. Meanwhile, Alpha 1 had charged forward and neutralized the last two soldiers.

As I reloaded my shotgun, I taunted my brother, "I'm up on kills. Three to two."

He mockingly examined himself before retorting, "Hmm…odd…I can't seem to find any bullet holes in my armor."

I laughed sarcastically in response before I said, "Please, bullets fucking bounce off your armor."

"What's the bet this time?" We both looked to see Alma in her child form before us with an amused look on her beautiful partially hair-shrouded face.

I started, "The bet is whoever gets the most kills wins."

My brother continued, "Loser has to clean up after Amara's pet."

I continued, "Rules are that only firearm kills count."

Alpha 1 finished, "Psionic kills that lead to firearm kills do count but only by half."

She raised her left eyebrow as she asked, "Psionic kills that lead to firearm kills?"

I explained, "You know, like if killing one with a psychic blast knocks the rest of them to their feet and thus allows you to kill them easily…something like that."

She replied, "Ah…"

"Daddy, he doesn't leave that big of a mess." Amara appeared in her older child form before us.

Alma smiled at her daughter before she addressed her in a loving, motherly tone, "Good morning, sweetie. Did you sleep well?"

Our daughter flashed a slight smile that stood out more than it would have if it were on a human child due to her snow white complexion before she replied with a somewhat distant tone that made it clear that she was still rousing herself from sleep, "Good morning Mommy. Yes, I did, thank you." She then looked at me and pouted before she said, "Daddy, you promised to teach me how to catch a baseball today."

An icy, nauseous sensation swept through me as I realized that she was right. I had promised to teach her how to catch a baseball today. She stared up at me with her innocent, childish eyes that were beginning to shine. I cringed as I remembered wanting my father to teach me such things only to be stuck harshly in the abdomen or the face. With a falling heart, I said, "Amara…I…Daddy really, really wants to teach you how to catch a baseball, but…"

"You're busy saving the world." She finished for me. There was no ill intention in her voice but it still felt like a molten knife in my heart.

Swallowing, I replied, "Sweetie, you know that I would love nothing more than to play with you, but…I…I'm sorry. Please understand…I'm doing it for you."

To my surprise, she giggled before she asked, "Are all humans funny like you Daddy?"

Unsure about how to respond, I replied, "What do you mean?"

Her steel grey eyes were ablaze with amusement as she explained, "So sensitive…it's funny how sensitive you are Daddy. Silly, we are immortal. You can teach me about…what did you call it?"

I replied, "Baseball."

She smiled and then continued, "Ah, yes that's right. Baseball…same as the name of the ball...which is lazy in my opinion...whenever you are finished being a hero. Don't worry Daddy…life happens sometimes and even the best fathers get caught up in stuff that prevents them from fulfilling promises. It's okay. In fact, it is better than if you were perfect all the time, Daddy. Perfection is impossible for a human and you are definitely human…granted you are at the maximum psionic power level that a human body could handle without falling apart…but you are still human, Daddy. I would love you regardless but I like you more as a human."

I smiled slightly before I said, "Daddy loves you too, Amara."

She dissolved into a cloud of ash as she returned to Sparta. I turned back to look at my men. Using my right hand, I motioned for the marines to take point and secure the lower level of the superstructure. Their Heavy Trooper commander nodded and then motioned at his men. As they moved forward, I looked back at the F.E.A.R. Operatives and their marine escorts. I addressed them, "Holiday, get those bombs defused. You don't…everyone is a ghost."

Forgoing his usual cocky, humorous attitude, the Delta soldier replied, "Roger that, Sergeant." As they proceeded below decks to locate and defuse the nuclear threat, I led Dark Signal as we proceeded to the upper decks of the nerve center of the gigantic armored warship. We had to clear out the hellspawn in order to gain control of her. Fierce, heavy resistance was encountered as we cleared out the armored compartments that reeked of the scents of the ship's vintage and decades of prowling the world's oceans.

The enemy units we encountered were comparable in skill and variety to our own. As I had observed before, while Akira's Forces certainly fielded equipment that they had captured, they certainly were not lacking in skill. Moreover, despite the fact that they would burst into ash upon defeat, they were inhumanly durable as even the standard rifleman was able to remain combat-ready after sustaining point blank hits from my shotgun, prompting me to switch my ammunition to the cruelly devastating hollow point slug rounds.

As we turned back to proceed to the battleship's bridge after we had neutralized the crew manning the fore fire directory, it occurred to me that we would need a substantial number of individuals in order to properly operate the ship. The turrets alone would require approximately one hundred people to operate. To fully operate the old girl, we would need nearly two-thousand people. Where were we going to get that number of individuals? We were scrapping the bottom of the barrel already. Then, a thought occurred to me: the Spartans on standby for the invasion of the Asian Continent. If we could get them here, their programming would allow them to operate the warship. How could we get them here?

"Does it never occur to you that your wife is the Alma Wade, my love?"

Reloading my shotgun as I pressed myself up against a cold, steel bulkhead to avoid the volley of enemy gunfire erupting from an entrenched position down the main corridor, I replied with my mind, "Does it never occur to you that listening in on my every thought is annoying?" As I finished, I guided my shotgun through the open hatchway while remaining just to the side of the opening and began to blindly return fire my slug rounds in the general direction of the hellsoldiers.

She pouted from where she was absentmindedly leaning against the bulkhead beside me for a moment before she replied, "But I like your thoughts, my love. Don't you think it is only natural for us to share everything?"

Bringing my shotgun back inside the compartment so that I could reload once more, I said, "No, actually I don't. Also, you are getting fat. I might leave you for Keira if you don't start working on that body of yours. Be grateful I am letting you tag along instead of making you go back to the kitchen."

She giggled in delight and I could not keep a straight face for more than a second. When she had finished giggling, she suggested, "If I created a space rift, they could basically walk onto her."

I replied in agreement, "I think that is our only option here. Get ready, Mother." She smirked as she nodded in response. As I stormed into the corridor with my reflexes activated after Alpha 1 had tossed in a fragmentation grenade, I telepathically contacted the commanders of two of the battalions that were standing by, "Hotel 1 and Jericho 1, have your troops ready to board a naval vessel in less than thirty minutes."

They replied, "Affirmative, Commander."

Meanwhile, I had neutralized the four hell soldiers and deactivated my reflexes. As I reloaded, Foxtrot 813 questioned, "Why was a museum ship carrying live ammunition, sir? I know that they don't make 16-inch shells anymore."

I replied sarcastically, "Probably just to annoy you 813." By then, we had reached the entrance to the bridge. To my surprise, as I had been expecting it to be sealed, it was open. Having exhausted my ammunition reserves, armor, and my medkits, I steeled myself and then stormed into the room. Inside I found a compartmented room. There was a sacrificial outer ring that ran along the outside of the circular "inner" room where the sensitive parts were located. Athena had had a sacrificial outer ring in her bridge during her days as the Yamato, but she had removed it during her self-appointed refit and had, in turn, relocated the raw material to her bridge's exterior armor bulkhead.

I led the way as we slowly moved along the outer ring. With her big guns silenced when we eliminated the crew manning the fire director, our bootfalls were easily detectable in the cavernous-like metal box of the bridge. Whatever was lying in wait for us had ample time to prepare for our arrival. With my HUD flashing warnings about my low health and with red-hot stabs of pain in my chest from the four rifle rounds that had penetrated the last bastion of my ballistic plate arcing inside my mind, I forced myself forward while maintaining focus.

Upon reaching the open hatch that led into the interior room, I pressed myself against the bulkhead next to the open entrance. Alpha 1 rushed past the opening and then pressed himself against the bulkhead on the opposite side of the hatchway. Foxtrot 813 lined up behind me. Juggernaut was too big to move through the hatchway so he would remain outside. Using my gloved left hand, I retrieved one of my shock grenades. After cooking it for two seconds, I tossed it through the entrance.

Hearing it detonate and assault the area with electrical arcs, I activated my reflexes and stormed into the room while yelling, "Breaching! Breaching!" With my shotgun at the ready, I rushed through the hatchway.

Behind me, Alpha 1 yelled with his distorted voice, "Go! Go! Go!"

Scanning the room in less than a second, I was shocked to find it empty except for one occupant. Moving towards her, I lowered my weapon and deactivated my reflexes. From where she was steering the giant ship at the helm in a cute little sailor outfit, she smiled brightly at me before she said, "Hi Father! I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't make it to me."

My mind drew a blank, but, luckily, Alma materialized next to me and addressed Akira, "Akira, sweetie, you're the one steering the New Jersey?"

She smiled brightly before she replied, "Of course, Mother. It is just like steering a car…except bigger and more…floaty."

My mind finally caught up to the situation and I asked, "Any particular reason that you tried to nuke my carriers?"

She frowned sadly before replied with a down heartened tone, "I thought it was clever."

I moved forward and hugged her around her small shoulders as I said, "No, no, it's clever…just a little underhanded."

She leaned her head against my right arm as she remarked, "Like you boarding my ship and being about to hijack it?"

I smiled slightly before I said, "Well, technically, you did it first so…I am not at fault."

Akira pouted and then replied, "But she is so pretty, Father."

I asked in agreement, "Yeah, she is a pretty ship isn't she?" She gazed up at me and nodded happily. I hugged her tighter as I said, "I would like to have her now."

Akira sighed before she asked, "Why do you keep taking away my toys, Father? You killed my dollies and now you are taking my boatie."

I assured her, "I don't like to take them away, Akira. I don't have a choice."

She smiled and then remarked, "No, you don't…do you?" Before I could reply, she continued, "Fair is fair, I guess. You won her from me, Father. Congratulations. See you landside. Don't expect me to be as easy going on you as I have been so far." She moved away from the helm as she began to dissolve into ash. Looking at Alpha 1, she winked at him before she said, "I'll see you landside too, my love." Before he could respond, she was gone.

I shouldered my shotgun and spoke into my com link, "Attention all friendly units, the battleship New Jersey is now under Spartan control. New callsign is Black Dragon. Standby for fire support." Black Dragon had been the U.S.S. New Jersey's nickname during her career in the United States Navy. Her motto was "Firepower for Freedom", which, as I reflected, was an appropriate motto for the mighty warship, especially now that I needed the massive firepower of her "obsolete" main battery to help us win back the freedom of the world.

My HUD displayed the image of Holiday as he contacted me through my com link. He reported, "Bombs defused, super soldier."

I replied, "Outstanding work, Holiday. Get topside, I need someone to operate the forward fire director."

He questioned, "What makes you think I know how to operate one of those?"

I replied, "It can't be that hard. Besides, you are the most qualified with things that go boom here so get your ass to the director and be quick about it."

The Delta Operative said, "Roger that, Becket."

His image left my HUD as my com link deactivated. I breathed a sigh of relief. All we needed now was a crew. I turned to look at Alma and then said, "Alma, do it." Her body was briefly surrounded by a black aura as portals that resembled a ripple pattern on the surface of a liquid appeared against the back wall.

Replica soldiers began to enter through the portals. Hotel 1 and Jericho 1 approached me and asked, "What are you orders, sir?"

I replied, "Have your men man their stations. We need to get her online so we can assist Athena and our escorts."

They both replied with their distorted voices, "Roger that, sir." As our soldiers repopulated the warship, we went to the observation deck. Easily the most iconic room in the battleship with its large glass windows that allowed an observer to look out over the exterior of the front of the massive warship, the observation deck allotted a perfect vantage point for me to assess how the battle was proceeding.

The situation was dire. Though courageous, our escorts were succumbing to the overwhelming firepower of the enemy fleet. I had little doubt that they were running low on ammunition as well. Meanwhile, our aircraft were also struggling against the enemy vessels. Athena was breaking them down to size but she needed assistance as her massive and heavy guns were having difficulty in following the fast, agile escorts of the enemy fleet. With the bridge populated, we slowed our speed so that we pulled even with her.

Meanwhile, the Iowa hammered away at our warships with her forward guns. Her aft turret appeared to be jammed because it could not aim in our direction. Moments prior, I had observed it swiveling to aim back towards us only to emit a loud clanging noise as its gears finally gave out from their age as the turret reached one-hundred degrees. Several more loud clanging sounds could be heard over the thunder of the growing squall that Alma had cooked up as the turret attempted to rotate in both directions only to be unable to do so.

It appeared that time had finally caught up to the "advanced" construction of the battleship's turret. In her defense, she was nearly one-hundred years old. Not very many machines of her kind could boast the same record. Even the mighty New Jersey, the paragon of the American Battleships; the most decorated of all the American warships in the history of their navy aside from non-warships like aircraft carriers and the submarine U.S.S. Parche, was no match for time.

Our Replica continued to report malfunctioning equipment and leaking seams along her hull. Both warships were mere shadows of their former selves; leaking hulks turned tourist traps as if that somehow "honored" them and the sailors that sacrificed their lives aboard them. I reflected upon the satire that despite all of our species' advances, the outcome of the war to determine the future of our kind had fallen onto the shoulders of the forgotten derelicts like Yamato, Iowa, Wisconsin, New Jersey, Dmitry Donskoy, Aurora,and Missouri.

All of our talk about how mighty we were as a generation and yet, when the wolves came for us, all of our eyes turned to the neglected, old weapons that our forefathers had used with either hope of salvation or, in the case of the American battleships save for the New Jersey, with fear of annihilation. We had seen fit to cast them aside like old toys by rotten children that were given a new toy. They had rotted to the point of being heartbreaking shells but as soon as we realized that we needed them once more, we expected even more for them than what they could have managed in their prime, the only exception being Athena due to her condition.

The Dmitry Donskoy had been in the process of being decommissioned at the time of the evacuation of Russia. When it became apparent that the new modern Borei-class ballistic submarines, outside the territorial waters of Russia at the time, could not get to the port in time to save the High Command, all eyes had fallen upon the rusting, ice encrusted Cold War juggernaut. By some miracle, the old girl's nuclear reactor was still operational and the ship roared to life even as the half-sunken, rusted remains of her siblings around her attested to the ravages of the Russian winter that she had endured for many years. With her infamous twin props churning and slicing their way through the ice covered harbor surface, and with Akira's Forces firing upon her as they stormed through the last line of the Russian defenses, she turned ice breaker as she bulldozed her way out of the harbor.

According to Morales, who had been updating me about the raging battle beneath the surface of the broiling ocean, the old girl was putting up one hell of a fight. She had been designed as a ballistic submarine, meaning that she was not intended to fight "hunter-killer" submarines in a dogfight. It would be like a semi-truck drag racing against a muscle car. Yet, that is what she was doing. According to Morales, she had already destroyed four attack submarines with her torpedoes, and had even pitched in with the surface battle by sinking a frigate that was closing in on one of our crippled destroyers that had received a torpedo hit from one of Akira's destroyers before diving back down to engage Akira's submarines once more.

The minutes ticked by as I watched our escorts fall one by one until only a small group remained. The Russians had reclaimed Aurora and were now engaging the enemy ships with everything that the one hundred plus year old protected cruiser had left in her. I vaguely wondered if her new crew were aware that she was the ship whose guns had literally signaled, via a blank shot fired from her forward gun, the start of the 1917 October Revolution, which had eventually led to the rise of the Soviet Union in 1922.

Finally, nearly fifteen minutes later, my com link activated and Hotel 1 reported, "Sir, forward 16-inch guns are online."

I replied, "Copy, standby."

He said, "Roger that, sir."

I contacted Holiday, "Holiday…"

He interrupted me as he said, "'bout damn time. Who do I shoot first?"

I smirked before I said, "You'll know. Train the main guns ninety degrees to port and standby for a broadside."

Though there was confusion in his tone, he replied, "Roger that, Becket."

As their images left my HUD, I contacted our old friend, "Athena, the time has come. You know what to do." The mighty battleship blasted her foghorn in response. Then, as her 20.1-inch main guns swiveled to aim 90 degrees to her starboard, she took aim at the Iowa with her fore 6.1-inch main gun. As the American battleship began to descend the crest of an enormous wave, for several seconds, her propellers and rudder were visible and vulnerable.

Athena fired her rounds. The rounds impacted against the bottom of the stern section of the battleship's hull exactly where her propellers and rudder were. The three high explosive shells annihilated the objects. The Iowa was dead in the water; no longer could she escape her fate. We began to pull alongside her on both sides with our main guns aimed at her. Our aft main gun was manually aimed in the general direction by the crew inside the turret.

As we did, I quietly continued the song. "The fog broke on the seventh day and they saw the mornin' sun. Ten hours away from homeland, the Iowa made her run. The admiral of the Spartan fleet said, 'Turn those bows around, we found that American battleship and we're gonna cut her down.'"

Time seemed to move as slow as it did when my reflexes were activated as we came alongside her. The Earth itself seemed to become strangely quiet as we closed in on the crippled titan. As our bows passed her stern, I said to Holiday via com link and Athena telepathically, "Open fire."

As the deafening thunder temporarily robbed me off my hearing, I watched the ensuing destruction of the mighty warship as the world was in total silence while I mentally sang the rest of the song. The first round from Anton penetrated the ship's stern and exploded internally beneath the back of her helipad. 'The Spartan guns were aimed and the shells were coming fast. The first shell hit the Iowa, they knew that she couldn't last.' The first round from the New Jersey's first main gun penetrated the ship's stern and exploded internally beneath the helipad. The structure and the Sea Knight helicopters collapsed through the compromised deck. Vertical cracks appeared on the side of the warship's hull just forward of the collapsed helipad.

The second round from Anton penetrated her armor and exploded internally on the starboard side cracks. The second round from New Jersey's first main gun penetrated the cracked hull on the port side and exploded internally. Deck planks silently flew through the air as a small explosion erupted through the deck above the cracks. The compromised stern section broke away from the rest of the hull and began to rapidly sink beneath the red wine colored ocean surface.

'That mighty American battleship is just a memory.' The third round from Anton penetrated the battleships hull and exploded internally just before the warship's aft main 16-inch turret. The jarring unjammed the turret and it began to swivel to aim at Athena to return fire. However, seconds later, the third round from New Jersey's first main turret exploded internally just before the turret. A ring of fire erupted out of the deck around the turret as it and the barbette that it was mounted in collapsed forward. Deck planks snapped and flew upwards into the air as the turret ejected from the barbette, it was only held in by gravity, and tumbled over the starboard side of the ship and into the ocean.

'Sink the Iowa was the battle cry that shook the seven seas.' The first round from Bruno exploded internally beneath the aft section of the Iowa's superstructure. The first round from New Jersey exploded internally only a few decks below the anti-ship missile launchers mounted where one of the 5-inch dual turrets had once been. The impact somehow caused the missiles to launch and they zoomed aimlessly up through the dark, rolling blood red clouds above us. Small explosions silently began to erupt out of the aft section of the superstructure.

'We found that American battleship that was makin' such a fuss. We had to sink the Iowa 'cause the world depends on us. We hit the decks a-runnin' and we spun those guns around.' Bruno's second round exploded inside the superstructure below the area of the aft smokestack. The smokestack collapsed and violently ripped away from the superstructure as it tumbled over the port side of the warship. A jagged vertical crack appeared in the hull in the general area of the now stack-less section of the superstructure. The second round from our second main turret penetrated the cracked armor and exploded internally beneath the superstructure. The resulting structural collapse broke the dying warship's back and her two hull sections were now only held together by her keel.

'Yeah, we found the mighty Iowa and then we cut her down.' The third round from Bruno penetrated through her mounted 5-inch dual turret before it could fire at Athena and then continued into the superstructure and exploded internally beneath her tower, which was located directly behind and above the warship's iconic observation deck. The tall structure, which included the fore smokestack as well, began to lean forward as it came dangerously close to collapsing.

Seconds later, the third round from our second main turret penetrated through the opposite 5-inch dual turret and continued on to detonate beneath the tower. The structure finally submitted and collapsed onto the roof of the observation deck. The glass panels silently shattered and ejected out of their square housings in tiny, sparkling pieces as the roof of the deck completely collapsed from the weight of the tower. Meanwhile, the deck and superstructure located beneath the tower peeled up from the hull like the top of a soup can.

'We found that American battleship was makin' such a fuss.' The battleship's two forward main guns swiveled to return fire at her killers, the second aiming at us and the first aiming at Athena. As our superstructures became visible to the gunners inside the turrets, as the forward fire director were now flattened they were the operators, she opened fire upon us. To me, it looked like three jets of flame that silently ejected out of the ends of the mighty warship's main guns.

I was thrown up against the side of the wall as the impacts rocked our battleship to its core. As I stood back up, the image of Jericho 1 appeared in my HUD but I could not hear what he was saying. His image left my HUD soon afterwards. The New Jersey's condition must have still been combat-ready because he did not attempt to contact me telepathically through our link. Peering through the windows, I saw that several fires had broken out onboard our battleship and the resulting smoke wafted through the air. However, I could easily see the Iowa and Athena despite the smoke.

I noticed that the exterior of Athena's superstructure was heavily dented in two spots and a penetration hole was located in the center of her protruding fire director, which was mounted on top of a pedestal-like structure that was attached to the side of her towering forward superstructure, for the first half of her starboard side secondary anti-aircraft batteries. Meanwhile, the gunners inside Iowa's forward main turrets were undoubtedly reloading as quickly as they could.

'We had to sink the Iowa 'cause the world depends on us.' As our aft main turrets reached the forward deck of the dying titan, they fired the final six rounds that ended her life. The first round from Caesar exploded beneath the second main turret and was followed shortly by the first round from our aft main turret. While the magazine was not ignited, the area around the turret collapsed as a ring of fire erupted around the barbette before the gun turret fell backwards. The side of the heavy gun turret, as it had been aiming at us, smashed into what remained of the observation deck. Portions of the barbette were visible beneath the collapsed structure and the area of the deck located beneath the first main turret was bowed upwards as the thin armor plate strained to hold the second turret's barbette inside the ship. The second turret was mounted a little higher than the first so the top of its barbette crumpled the deck between it and the observation deck while the bottom of it had attempted to push its way out of the top of the deck that was beneath the first turret.

'We hit the decks a-runnin' and we spun those guns around.' Caesar's second round exploded inside the first main turret. The barrels remained inside their housings but only just barely. The center of the turret was peeled open like a tin can. The second round from our aft turret completely split the turret in half and the two sections fell to the deck on either side of its mount. The twisted remains of the internal workings of the guns were visible as they protruded from the inside of the barbette.

'We found the mighty Iowa and then we cut her down.' The final round from Athena exploded internally between the split first turret and the corpse's bow. A final vertical crack appeared in the side of her hull. Our final round penetrated the cracked armor and exploded internally. The resulting structural collapse separated the bow from the rest of the rapidly sinking hull. The bow, the white large bold print identification number "61" still proudly emblazoned on opposite sides of its exterior, sank beneath the wine colored ocean surface.

Seconds after we had moved past the corpse, the remaining section slipped beneath the surface of the ocean. In total, the entire broadside lasted approximately two minutes. Somewhere, the gods of war wept for the death of one of their sisters. The Earth seemed to stand still as if it was in mourning. She was gone. The mighty Iowa was gone.