A woman with short blonde hair, dressed like an office worker in a dark green jacket, awoke abruptly on the bridge of a futuristic-looking ship. Her breathing was heavy as she sat back in a comfortable chair, scanning her surroundings with wide, confused eyes.
"Huh... Strange... I feel like I was at the harbor earlier... Wait, why am I talking? Why is my voice so feminine?!" She exclaimed, panic creeping into her tone.
She attempted to stand, but her legs gave out beneath her. The result was a loud thud as her head struck the edge of a table—one used by high-ranking officers for planning. Groaning in pain, she used the same table for support, steadying herself as she rose shakily to her feet.
"Okay... Somehow I became human, and none of my crew is here. Where is Captain Jamie? Where is Executive Officer Horatio Cortez?!" Her voice was frantic, bordering on disbelief.
Her sharp eyes darted around the bridge. "This makes no sense! Is this a follow-up attack from the Directorate? Old Man Mike was right—we should've just bombed Beijing back to the Stone Age," she muttered irritably, clenching her fists.
This blonde-haired woman was none other than the USS Zumwalt herself, now mysteriously transformed into human form.
Still trying to piece together her situation, Zumwalt decided to investigate. She left the bridge—her original "body"—and emerged onto the deck. The sight of the open ocean greeted her, stretching endlessly under a clear sky. The salty air carried the typical humidity of the Pacific, likely the southern region.
Zumwalt's eyes fell on the sleek, battle-ready state of the ship. She instinctively thought about checking the Vertical Launch System and Advanced Gun System. To her surprise, she didn't need to move; her consciousness seemed linked to the ship's internal systems. Cameras within the VLS and AGS came alive, feeding her real-time visuals.
"I still have full control of my ship." Zumwalt realized. A small smile tugged at her lips. She tested her theory further, thinking about moving forward. The ship trembled slightly beneath her feet before gliding smoothly through the water.
The gentle hum of the engines filled her with a strange comfort. "Still music to my ears." She mused, a grin breaking across her face. Memories of her upgrades by Dr. Vernalise Li—a brilliant University of Wisconsin professor recruited by the FBI—briefly surfaced.
Her smile faded as she turned her thoughts to the tactical situation. "Satellite access is down. That'll limit the range of some weapons. I'll have to recalibrate for radar targeting only… significantly reducing range. I'll need to rely on the AGS for now. Thankfully, the ammunition stock is sufficient. But where will I replenish it when I run out?"
As she spoke aloud, her thoughts were interrupted by a faint tap in her mind. A repeated "ping" echoed softly, signaling something entering her radar range.
"Well, let's see who our guest is…" Zumwalt muttered, her expression turning serious. Her voice lowered as she commanded herself, "Entering stealth mode."
Zumwalt increased her ship's speed to 15 knots, feeling an unfamiliar yet instinctive sensation of movement through the water. A faint alert in her consciousness drew her attention to the rear deck.
"Oh? Still have some MQ-8 Fire Scouts, do I? Let's give them a spin, equipped with APKWS."
Without any manual intervention, Zumwalt accessed the hangar's CCTV. She watched as the door slid open, revealing one of her MQ-8 Fire Scout drones, its sleek frame coming to life.
"I'd question the logic of all this, but I'm a human-ship hybrid myself... might as well roll with it," she muttered.
As the drone lifted off, Zumwalt observed the nearby objects her radar had flagged. Judging by their relatively slow speed, they were likely ships. The lack of immediate hostility allowed her a brief moment of calm. But that calm quickly soured as memories of past battles resurfaced.
She thought of the USS Port Royal and USS America, both lost during the disastrous operation to liberate Hawaii from the Directorate. Their sacrifice weighed heavily on her mind.
"If only I weren't riddled with design flaws, if only I'd been better... Maybe Port Royal, maybe America, maybe they'd still be here." Her voice grew bitter. "And our government? Thinking the status quo ante bellum would fix everything? Naive fools."
Her musings were interrupted by a new alert. The objects on her radar were now 70 kilometers away, and smaller, faster-moving contacts had launched from one of the larger ones. Aircraft, undoubtedly. She designated the suspected aircraft carrier as her primary target.
Moments later, missiles streaked toward her. Reacting instantly, she initiated evasive maneuvers and deployed her advanced defenses.
"Metal Storm, ready. LaWS, engage," she commanded.
The LaWS laser defense system on her starboard side locked onto the incoming missiles, firing precise beams that destroyed one after another. Two missiles, however, slipped past. Metal Storm—a monstrous evolution of the CIWS Phalanx—roared to life, spewing an unimaginable barrage of bullets that detonated the remaining threats mid-air.
"Launch multiple ESSMs at the locked targets. Clear the airspace. And send five Tomahawks at that carrier. Make its runways unusable," she ordered.
From her VLS, seven ESSM missiles surged into the sky, chasing the hostile aircraft. Five found their marks, downing as many planes. The remaining two malfunctioned, but Zumwalt wasn't deterred. Using her MQ-8 drone for recon, she observed the enemy fleet. The aircraft, painted black with red accents, didn't match any Directorate designs she'd encountered before.
"Unidentified, but that's a problem for later. Focus on neutralizing them now."
The five Tomahawk missiles streaked toward the enemy carrier. One was intercepted, but the others reached their target. The first slammed into the starboard side, creating a massive breach. The second and third hit the main deck, while the fourth penetrated an elevator, triggering an internal explosion that rendered the carrier's starboard runway completely unusable.
"Stop the ship. Entering bombardment mode."
The 155mm Railgun emerged from the ship's bow, its sleek, futuristic design a testament to its devastating power. Zumwalt anchored herself, stabilizing her position for maximum accuracy.
A thunderous shot echoed across the ocean, followed by another, and another. Within a minute, she had fired ten rounds, her strength waning slightly with each shot but quickly recovering.
"Looks like about 80% of my shots hit. That's... 24 rounds on target. Time to investigate."
Zumwalt considered using her drone but ultimately decided otherwise.
"Old man Mike would call me a coward. Set a course for the enemy fleet. Time for some adventure."
With engines roaring to life, Zumwalt surged forward at 30 knots, closing in on the battered enemy fleet. Adrenaline—or something akin to it—coursed through her as she prepared for whatever lay ahead.
Unbeknownst to her, she was being watched.
A pale woman with flowing white hair and burning gold eyes observed Zumwalt intently from afar. A predatory scowl played across her lips as she whispered. "Bloody hell, we're cooked."
To Be Continued.