Re-write

Spruance, the lead ship of the destroyer class of the same name, was getting to be an old ship. Launched back in 1973, the sturdy old ‘tin can’, as destroyers were nicknamed, was nearing the end of her lifespan. Having spent most of her life in the Atlantic, she was transferred to the Pacific fleet early in the previous year to serve out the last of her long service. Despite her 27 years of service to the Navy, she was simply too old, and was unlikely to hold her own should she come under concentrated attack by a more modern unit.

The same applied to the rest of the Spruance class. With the newer ships coming out with more advanced weapons systems, the older destroyers were rapidly becoming obsolete. Even when a few were selected to receive upgrades and extend their lifespans, the leader included, it was only a delaying move. It was only a matter of time before they were all decommissioned and scrapped, but this mission of exploration would be a suitable way to top off the boat's career.

“It’ll be a nice spot in the history books,” the destroyer’s Captain commented to his subordinate next to him, as the two stood on the bridge, “‘The U.S.S. Spruance: first ship to discover a new land, and meet new life.’ Doesn’t that sound interesting, Commander Blake?”

“That would be nice, Captain, but there is the chance we won’t meet any new life,” the Commander replied, “Nor do we know if we are the first ship. Ships from pretty much everywhere are converging; not just American, but every nation in the area. So it’s possible we won’t be the first.”

Captain Keith sighed a bit in disappointment. The first piece was implausible at best, considering how big they hypothesized the landmass to be.

“You really need to drown my hopes that quickly?”

“No sir, just stating the facts,” Blake replied.

“I know the facts,” the Captain stated. “I just want to dream a bit. This is a big day for us, for everyone.”

“Sorry, sir,” Blake apologized. “But I’d be a little more concerned with how anyone is still here. With something of that size hitting us… we should have been wiped out before we knew what was going on.”

“You’ve got a point, Commander, but I don’t exactly have the answer for it.”

“I know sir; I’m just saying we should take that into account.”

“We are taking that into account,” the Captain replied in an annoyed tone. “That’s why we’re going there, to try and find out.”

Blake did not seem to have much of a response to this, and kept quiet following his agreement of ‘yes sir’. He was not content at all with that answer, but he knew he was not going to find it in the Captain. He kept his discomfort to himself, allowing the Captain to return to his own interests.

Standing on the Spruance’s bridge, Keith watched the horizon in anticipation, as he had done for the past few hours. He had grown up reading in awe about the brave explorers like Columbus and Magellan; it was what made him take an interest to the seas. Though he never thought that he would actually become an explorer like they had, journeying to discover new lands. Perhaps history would remember him as that, if anything; he would certainly enjoy such a reputation.

But if this was to be the New World, what did it hold for him to discover? What kind of plants and animals and other resources would it hold? And most importantly, what were the native inhabitants of the land, and how would they receive him? All these thoughts and possibilities kept his mind busy with thinking and planning for most of the journey.

'I’ll find out soon enough what you hold for me,' he thought, looking at the horizon, 'and I bet I’ll blow your mind clear out of its skull with what I have to show you.'

Another thought entered his head after that: what other units were in the area that command knew about? He had been told to expect all kinds of contacts, as each branch was scrambling what they had to investigate, but what about foreign vessels? What about civilian shipping? The prior planning showed none along the route, but that may have changed over the past several hours they had been away. It would be best to find out.

“Commander!” he called suddenly.

“Yes sir?” Blake responded, jumping a tad.

“Get me an up-to-date report on all vessels and aircraft in our area of operations; we need to know who else is out here.”

“Aye, sir.”

Blake turned around and moved across the bridge and out of the room as the Captain turned back to stare in anticipation at the ocean. There should not be any kind of civilian shipping in the area, as much of it had been restricted and the Navy had sent out a message warning others not to get close, but it was important to check. No doubt some wild-eyed adventurer would be going regardless, one that did not have the protection of a destroyer. His concentrated stare only lasted about a minute more before it was interrupted, this time by another crew member.

“Captain, surface contact, bearing two-zero-two, right ahead of us,” one of the radar operators reported over the radio from his position inside the ship’s Command and Control center. “Moderate size, but unable to identify yet.”

Keith quickly shuffled over to the radio to respond. He was becoming impatient with the waiting, and a little anxious, too. But how could he not be, considering what was going to happen? In only a matter of time before they would be entering a real first contact scenario. That only happened once.

“Copy, that’s great to hear! Anything else you can tell me?” he asked, betraying his excitement.

“Not picking up any radar, or any kind of sensor onboard,” the radar man continued.

“Is it moving?” the Captain continued, trying to gather the details.

“Yes sir, they’re moving in our direction. Speed is ten knots.”

“Keep watching; let me know if they do anything odd,” Keith ordered.

“Aye sir,” the radar man replied, closing the radio continuing to focus on the dot on his screen.

The Captain stood up from his lean over the radio and stretched a bit before noticing Blake had returned from the CIC. He must have also noticed the contact, as he looked to be more on-edge than when he left. Still, he kept his composure, giving a greeting and salute and waiting for Keith’s response.

“Commander, do you have the update yet?”

“Yes sir, right here” he confirmed.

“Well, what does it say? What are we dealing with?”

“Command reports no known civilian aircraft or shipping in the area. A submarine was in the area earlier, an Ohio that was already out on deployment, but it hasn’t reported back yet. They want us to… keep a lookout for them, just in case,” Blake said with a touch of worry in the last piece. “Units from other nations are likely operating in the area, but it is unknown if any are really there. No one has reported anything yet. ”

The Captain walked over to look over the report himself. If ships from the navies of other nations were in the area, then things could become a bit more complicated, depending on whom it was. That also meant the contact that was on the radar could be a vessel from another navy, as much as from the new land. But if the CIC had reported correctly, and the contact had no sensors, it was unlikely to be a modern warship.

The submarine, on the other hand, was not at the top of the list; it was possible they were not even here anymore and had simply moved on, or were trying to return to base. It was also possible they had been in the path of the landfall and were lost altogether. All they could do was keep an eye on the sonar for any contacts. If the sub was found, they could try to contact them, to see if they could cooperate in the investigation, or offer assist if needed.

“Sir, do we have any orders concerning how we should react to… new life?” Blake asked.

“Non-violent, for now,” the Captain answered, deciding on the most sensible choice. “Of course that could change if they start acting aggressive. And we need to report back as soon as contact is made. Other than that, nothing particular. We use our own judgment.”

“How do you think they will act?” the Commander wondered, a bit jittery over the ideas of what could go wrong when contact was made.

“Peacefully, I think. They’ve got no reason to attack us,” Keith responded optimistically.

“And what if they do?”

Keith stopped for a minute, trying to think of an appropriate answer, but could not find one.

“Well… I’m not sure. Fight back I suppose,” he said simply. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, if we come to it.”

Blake shook his head a bit in a mixture of worry and disappointment, as Keith returned his attention to the horizon.

“I’m sorry sir, but I think you’re rushing into this a bit… haphazardly,” he claimed, attempting to remain respectful to his superior.

“I’ll note your worrying, Commander, but I’m afraid that I don’t see why such a thing is bothering you,” the Captain replied, focusing again on the water. “Unless you’ve been watching a bunch of alien invasion films lately.”

“There’s a fifty-fifty chance we could be sailing into a battle.”

“A fifty-fifty chance? Based on what, Commander?” Keith asked with a critical tone, turning back to him. “You worry too much about the improbable; we’ve had no indication that there has been any kind of hostile action towards the United States. Besides, we can’t just stop because of the chance of a fight. That’s what this ship was built for.”

“I understand that sir, but I still believe-”

The conversation was interrupted as one of the lookouts on the bridge excitedly reported a finding.

“Ship sighted, sir! Directly ahead!”

The Captain immediately broke off the conversation and ran over to the watcher’s position on the bridge. He tried looking in the direction he stated with his own set of binoculars, but only saw the dot coming closer and not much more. The lookout was using a much more powerful pair, and could see much farther compared to regular ones.

“Can you identify the nationality and make?” Keith asked.

“I can’t see any recognizable symbols or flags, sir. But, it does appear to be a sail ship of some kind,” the lookout replied.

“Alright, keep watching it,” the Captain ordered before turning to the man behind the ship’s wheel. “Helm, keep this course and speed.”

Before he could reply, and before Keith could give any further orders, the radar operator spoke up with another report of his own.

“Two more surface contacts, Captain. They’re a ways behind the first one, but they’re closing in quick.”

Again, the Keith had to shuffle over to another side of the bridge, where he felt he should just stay at, but could not help trying to catch a glimpse of the ship to find out something else about it. If it was wooden, then it had to be from some other world; no modern navy used wooden vessels anymore. And if civilians had stayed clear, as ordered, there was no other possibility.

“Can either be identified?” Keith asked, wondering if they were similar and possible allies to the first.

“Only one of them,” the man reported back. “The farthest is confirmed to be a ship of the People’s Liberation Army Navy.”

Keith’s eyebrows went up and his eyes opened wide, surprised by the new arrival.

“The Chinese? The hell are they doing this far out?” he replied.

“Not sure, sir. We can’t contact them for some reason; no one seems to be able to radio them.”

That did worry Keith a bit. Was there some reason specific reason the Chinese had come out this far? Had they already made contact with the newcomers and investigated their world? And if so, what did they tell them, and what did they share? That one inclusion added a whole new pile of questions and problems that needed to be solved.

And then why could they not contact the Chinese vessel? Surely it had a radio, so were they just ignoring the Spruance's hails? It could be jamming, but what reason was there for that action? It could be a precursor to a more offensive move, but what reason did China have for that? Then again, it could be coming from the wooden ship.

“Are we being jammed?” Keith asked.

“Not that I can tell sir, at least I don’t think so. I’m not receiving interference, but I don’t think we’re sending out any messages. Or if we are, they aren’t receiving, or just not answering. It may be a maintenance problem.”

“Get working on it and get back to me if you find anything,” the Captain ordered, leaving the radio before the sailor on the other end could respond.

“Lookout, anything new?” Keith asked, before noticing the wooden ship had moved closer to the Spruance.

“Plenty sir. The vessel does seemed to be armed; looks like some type of frigate,” he reported, still observing the ship through his binoculars. “You might want to take a look at the crew, sir.”

Once again, Keith pressed his own set of binoculars up against his eyes and was given a much different sight than before. The crew of the frigate did not look even remotely human.  Many of them looked more like small horses, or dogs even, and each seemed to be a different color, with the tone ranging anywhere from very bright to dim and dark. By the way they moved about, they seemed to be rather intelligent, of course they would have to be in order build and operate such a large ship.

“I’ll be damned,” he said to himself before chuckling a bit at the seemingly impossible. “Have they tried to contact us yet?”

“Yes sir. Looks like they’re using flag signals,” the lookout confirmed. “I think they’re just spelling out ‘Hello’ right now. They're waiting for our response.”

“And we need to respond,” Keith stated quickly before turning again to his Commander. “Blake, get a man down there with flags and respond immediately!”

“What should we tell them?” he replied, asking the obvious.

“Just say ‘hello’ back and take it from there,” Keith ordered immediately. "And make sure he doesn't say anything dumb."

“Aye, Captain.”

As soon as Blake had left, his spot was taken by Lieutenant Commander Bailey, the head of the ship's fire control team based in the CIC.

"Evening, Sir," he said with a salute, gaining the Captain's attention.

Keith returned it quickly, allowing his subordinate to relax. Bailey’s timing irritated him a bit, though he did not show it. He wanted nothing more than to examine the alien vessel thoroughly, and keep track of what was happening on the deck; partially to ensure things went smoothly, and partially to indulge in his curiosity. Regardless, he had to deal with what Bailey had first.

“Sir, I wanted to come up personally to see how things are coming, and to ask for instructions,” the Lieutenant Commander said, getting straight to the point. “Is there any kind of procedure you would like me to follow? Do you want me to set up a fire plan?”

The Captain was taken aback by the question. He saw no need to, and tried to think of a quick response to emphasize this. However, he could not, and had to admit in the back of his head that fighting was a possibility. But it was still a very small one, one he did not wish to build on. And his prior discussion with Commander Blake sapped most of his will to debate his reasoning.

“Do you think that will be necessary?” he queried, wanting Bailey’s view on the situation.

“I’m not too sure, sir. I hope it won’t, but we should be safe,” he stated. “But it’s up to you, sir. So what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t think the actual contact is going to see any bloodshed, so don’t worry about that,” Keith decided, not fully sure on his decision. “But… be prepared for things. Make sure your team runs smoothly, and everything operates as it should.”

“Something else I should mention about that, sir,” he added, having been reminded of it from the Captain’s last sentence. “Some of our computers have been acting a bit… glitchy lately. But we don’t think it’s anything too concerning. We’re already working on it.”

That did worry Keith a bit. Having the radios malfunction was one thing, but the computers that controlled the weapons and kept track of the battle area was another level. That could lead to a fatal error that could cost someone their life. But he trusted his subordinate; if it was minor, then it was minor. He had to remember to request a technical overhaul when they returned to port. The number of errors was unacceptable.

“Very well, Lieutenant. Just make sure they get fixed.”

“Aye, sir,” he responded, heading off the bridge back to his post.

With that, Keith was finally able indulge in his curiosity and began examining the frigate with his binoculars. He noticed that, every now and then, one of the horses would show some extra feature, either a set of wings or what looked to be a horn on their head. At first, Keith wanted to guess they were some kind of evolution from the horses on Earth, but the inclusion of what seemed to be pegasi and unicorns added another element to the mix, at least if they did the same things the fairy tales said they could do.

The ship itself did not look to different from an old human sail ship. It was interesting to see that their technological level seemed to be rather behind, but on a seemingly parallel course with humanity’s. The ship’s armament consisted of cannons, but he did not see a single firearm amongst the crew, mostly just swords or spears. They must be close, if they had the gunpowder to use cannons; maybe they just had not thought of it yet.

“Captain, I’ve got an invitation from the ship’s crew,” Blake said, breaking his concentration.

Keith jumped a bit, as he had not noticed the sailor return to the bridge, but quickly regained his composure.

“They’re asking to meet us, including our Captain, and are willing to come aboard our vessel if we accept their invitation,” he reported.

“Is that all, Commander?”

“Yes sir, that’s all they’ve told us for now.”

“Alright, tell them the there’s no need; we’ll be heading over to theirs,” Keith replied confidently before looking over to another sailor and giving an order. “Get a RHIB and a guard team ready to go.”

“You’re going over there!?” Blake said, a bit shocked by this move.

“Yes I am, Commander, now go signal the other ship,” Keith ordered.

Blake continued to stare at Keith for a time, shocked.

“Sir, this seems like a terrible idea. We don’t know what could-”

“Christ, enough,” Keith groaned, turning to another sailor. “Swanson, go down there and tell the Seaman with the flags to respond with my message that we’re going to pay them a visit.”

“Aye sir,” the sailor said, walking off the bridge as Blake watched in concern.

“At the very least we could-”

Before Blake could finish, the lookout on the bridge called out again, this time a bit more urgent.

“Two new vessels; one’s another frigate coming from the same direction as the first, and it looks like the crew is different from the first,” he reported quickly. “The Chinese vessel is also in visual range to starboard.”

“Aggressive moves from either?” Keith asked first.

“Not that I can tell sir. The frigate seems to be moving in our direction, but the Chinese are keeping their distance. I don’t think they want to get involved.” the man answered, turning his gaze from one to the other before settling on the Chinese ship. “PLAN vessel identified as Luda class destroyer.”

“Any type specifics?”

“I can make out the pennant number… One-Six-Six.”

“Someone find out which ship that is,” the Captain ordered, not caring who did it and keeping his eyes on the Luda “So just what are you up to?”

It was odd that the Chinese destroyer had not been spotted and reported ahead of time. More than likely their mission was the same as the Spruance, to explore the new land. Perhaps it had already been in the area before the continent fell, and was just moving there because it was closest. That made the most sense, as any Chinese ships would have probably ran into it sooner than the Spruance; from what they knew already, the Luda would have had to sail around the continent to get to where it was now if it had come from China.

“Sir, destroyer number One-Six-Six  is named the Zhuhai; she’s one of the newer types to come out in the last decade. More advanced than the original makes,” a sailor answered from the other side of the bridge.

'She’s probably a good match for us, then,' Keith sighed, imagining briefly what a fight with that ship would be like.

“Sir… I believe the other vessel is a different nationality than the first,” the lookout said. “It’s a frigate, but the crew is different.”

“How so?” Keith asked.

“You… may want to see for yourself, sir,” the lookout said, offering his powerful binoculars to the Captain.

Keith took them and looked out towards the vessel. He could tell how easily the lookout had noticed the difference in nationality, and in the crew. As he said, the sailors on the new ship were quite different, as none of them looked even remotely like horses. It was an odd sort of race that he had never seen before, nor anything quite like it. He had trouble describing it, but it looked as though God had taken a lion and merged it with a hawk. It was very bizarre sight.

“It’s an entirely different race from the first,” Keith said in a state of awe. “What are those things?”

“I think they’re called Griffons, sir,” the lookout said. “They’re supposed to be fictional, though; I only heard about them in stories like the Greek myths. I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“I don't see much of a choice since I'm staring right at them,” Keith replied in a mumble, studying the other frigate.

“Sir, should I cancel the meeting?” Blake interrupted, staring at the Griffon-run vessel over the Captain’s shoulder.

Keith turned away from the window and began to move across the bridge.

“I don’t see why we should,” he retorted. “We’ve got no beef with any of these new species, and they have none with us. They shouldn’t do anything.”

Blake continued to stare at the Captain, his anxiety growing ever so steadily.

“I need to get going; there’s a meeting to attend,” Keith continued. “Commander, you’ve got the bridge while I’m away. Just keep everything in working order until I get back.”

“What about our Rules of Engagement?”

The Captain figured that Blake would ask such a thing from the way he had been acting, but he kept it simple, hoping he had more common sense than to do anything too foolish, and that nothing would go wrong during the contact.

“Nothing specific for right now Commander, just the basics,” Keith replied putting emphasis on the last three words. “Don’t shoot anything. If the Spruance comes under attack, or the RHIB, then you can return fire; but only at the aggressor.”

“Is that it, sir? We haven’t even contacted this new frigate and their race yet. What if they’re hostile?” Blake asked, continuing to think of the worst possible outcomes he could create in his mind.

“Then we’ll find out soon enough, and I trust the Spruance can take care of a wooden frigate without any trouble,” Keith responded. “Like I said before, just keep everything in order until I get back. Keep trying to contact that Chinese vessel and ask them what they’ve seen so far; they may be able to help us a bit. But under no circumstances are you allowed to shoot at that new frigate in anger, understood?”

Blake stood there for a while, dumbfounded, before he finally replied.

“Yes… sir.”

“Good. You have the bridge, Commander; take care of the ship,” Keith ordered.

With that, the Captain stepped off the bridge and made his way down to the deck, where the RHIB and a team of guards were waiting. That left Blake to deal with the Spruance and what little had to be done. A quick check with the radio confirmed that there was still no contact. The lookout reported the Zhuhai was sitting comfortably where she was, not doing anything suspicious, while the Griffon frigate was continuing to close with the horse frigate.

Blake continued focus mainly on the new boat run by Griffons. The appearance of a Chinese boat could be written off as coincidence, but something about the other new vessel struck him as odd. Something just was not right about the way it acted, trying to close the distance so hurriedly with the frigate run by the horses. To him, that was an aggressive move.

“Commander?”

Blake recognized the voice as belonging to the fire control officer.

“Lieutenant Commander Bailey, is there something wrong?” he asked, not bothering to turn and recognize him.

“No sir; just came to report to the Captain on some repair updates. Do you know where he is?”

“He left to attend a meeting with our new friends,” Blake replied, using the term lightly. “I’ve been left in charge until then.”

“That’s a good sign,” Bailey commented. “Maybe things will turn out better than expected. Assuming the negotiation doesn’t turn sour.”

“Maybe,” Blake repeated, thinking of other situations. “Until then, I’m keeping things alert.”

“Speaking of which, did the Captain have any orders for the R.O.E.?” Bailey asked, remembering his job on the vessel.

“We can only return fire if fired upon; nothing else,” Blake answered in an uneasy tone. “But like I said, we need to be attentive, or else things could get bad.”

Something about that did not settle well with Bailey. There was a feeling of distrust hanging with the last part of Blake’s statement. Yet at the same time, the actual choice seemed more like a move of caution, rather than one of paranoia. It worried him, but not enough to actually speak against it directly; instead, he chose an indirect version of asking why.

“Sir, you mind if I ask you something a little personal?”

“Go ahead, Commander,” Blake agreed.

“Have you ever been in a combat situation?”

Blake took his time to put his response together before answering.

“I assume you’re curious about my decision?” he guessed correctly, continuing on before Bailey could answer. “No, Lieutenant Commander, I haven’t. But I have heard many a story from my Army friends of them waiting to be fired upon, and the first shot taking someone out. Some of those guys weren’t the same; they felt like they could’ve done something. I don’t want to be in that position.”

“Ah… I see,” Bailey said, not knowing where to go after the Commander saw through his question. “Thank you, sir.”

“And I assume you haven’t either?”

It took a few seconds before Bailey realized he was talking about experience, an answer he assumed was obvious.

“No, sir, I haven’t seen any. I just want to be thorough in case we do, so we don’t screw up.”

“Sounds like we’re on the same page then.”

Bailey begged to differ; he did not enjoy such a comparison. It was true that he was attempting to prepare for the worst, but he could do so without turning into the aggressor himself, as Blake seemed to be doing. There had to be a limit to such things, one that, he felt, the Commander was walking the edge of.

“So, let’s act on that to make sure we don’t screw up,” the higher ranked sailor enigmatically ordered.

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“Lieutenant Commander, sound battlestations,” Blake instructed  the third-in-command, not looking away from the Griffons.

“What? Commander, Captain Keith ordered you not to-”

“I know what he ordered, Bailey! This is just a precaution,” Blake shot back, still keeping to himself. “The Captain told me not to shoot first, and I don’t plan to. I’m just being careful. Now go!”

The Lieutenant Commander, and most on the bridge, looked at Blake for a bit before returning to their jobs as Bailey ordered the crew to their battlestations and returned to the C.I.C. Blake did not count this as disobeying an order; no order was given stay at this alert level. And if either of those new aliens tried anything, he would be ready for them. This was the right thing to do; he just knew it had to be.

“Sonar contact,” the radio ringed from their position below the bridge. “It’s the friendly submarine we were told about. Ohio class from what I can tell, but I don’t know what an SSBN is doing out here.”

“Can we contact them?” Blake asked. "Do they have a buoy up?"

“Yes sir, patching us through now,” one of the radiomen answered.

The radio went silent for a minute before a new voice came from the other end.

“U.S. Navy destroyer, do you copy? This is the missile sub U.S.S. Louisiana. I.D. Foxtrot-Uniform-Two-Three. Do you copy?”

“This is the U.S.S. Spruance, we hear you,” Blake answered. “What are you guys doing here, over?”

“We were on a regular patrol cruise last night when some cataclysm must’ve happened. Some big waves hit us pretty hard, but we’re ok. We’ve been moving around trying to find their source. All we found so far were you, that Chinese Luda nearby, and a couple other ships that we can’t identify. Why are those other guys here anyways? Who are they?”

It was at this untimely moment that Blake realized the radios were operating fine once more, and that it was an American naval ship they were talking with. The radio had reported no updates in fixing the communication equipment; it seemed as if it had just started working again on its own. After malfunctioning for most of the day such a resolution did not seem likely. That meant there was a source of direct, intentional interference. Why it stopped was another question, and more importantly, where it was coming from.

Blake was about to respond when something hit him hard. A cold feeling went down his spine, and his body seemed to freeze up. He spent 10 seconds simply staring at the radio in his hand, not really thinking, staring into space. When he finally snapped out of the random attack of the chills, the first thing to enter his head was one single question.

'Why are the Chinese here?' he thought. 'What do they have that’s this far out?'

The logical part of his brain tried to say it was only a coincidence, but evidence seemed to pile up against that. Why had they appeared closer to the Griffon ship than the horse’s ship? That pointed to some kind of secret alliance; though it seemed a bit ridiculous, it could not be impossible. And it seemed like the only ship with sophisticated equipment capable of jamming radios. That could only mean they were responsible, as they did not seem to make any attempts at contacting Spruance on their own. They were acting as if they’d come here to fight, and if the Chinese were looking to fight, he would sink them, too.

“Louisiana, it’s hard to explain, but for now I need you to listen closely,” he said. “Position yourself close to that Luda, as close as you can, and stand by for updates.”

“Come again, Spruance? Do you want us to attack the Chinese destroyer!? What the hell is going on!?”

“No, no! Don’t attack yet!” Blake replied quickly. “Just stand by, we’ll let you know what to do and explain the situation afterwards. We may have come across some hostiles, but we’re not sure if China’s got anything to do with it. Just keep your eye on her; if she starts attacking us, sink her. Don’t wait for us. Copy?”

“Alright, Spruance; I’ll take your word on this,” the sub’s commander agreed. “Louisiana out.”

Blake went back to watching the water. He noticed the tiny RHIB speeding across the water towards the first frigate. He quickly checked on the other two boats, both of which were doing the same thing they had been doing. Nothing seemed to be changing at all; perhaps he was going a bit too far with such wild accusations.

As he sat there watching everything unfold slowly, he could not remove the thoughts from his mind, which continued to enhance his anxiety. Why had the radios on the Spruance been unable to contact the Chinese destroyer, yet they could contact the submarine just fine? Was it just a malfunction that had just been solved in time to contact the sub? Jamming would not have allowed that. But if it was a malfunction, it would probably be best to contact the Zhuhai and talk to them.

Before he could call the radio operators back, his eyes focused on the Griffon frigate, which had made a sharp turn to the Spruance’s port. Almost as soon as they were parallel with the horse’s frigate, tiny puffs of white smoke began to pop up along the width of the Griffon frigate, signaling that they had, indeed, opened fire; from the direction it was facing, they seemed to be targeting the horses. Many of the cannonballs splashed into the water, but at least two hit the first frigate, sending shattered wood into the air and ocean.

'They’re shooting at the ship the Captain’s going to!' he thought to himself.

The RHIB stopped and sat in the water for a moment as the second salvo sailed out from the Griffon’s guns. A few more cannonballs hit their target this time, and a few more flew past. One of these came down hard in the water, unnervingly close to the Captain’s boat. The impact rocked the RHIB, and the water spout shot up high over them. Other than being thoroughly soaked from the seawater, none were injured; it was the final push Blake needed.

'That’s close enough for me! One of them could hit his RHIB, and I sure as hell won’t let that happen!'

“Target that frigate!” Blake shouted into his radio, speaking to the CIC room. “Prepare to fire Harpoons!”

On the other end, Bailey, who had been keeping track of the situation through the room’s displays and computers, was a bit stunned by this. Not so much that they would have to start shooting, but at the order of using the Harpoons. Their deck gun was within range, and could easily deal with a wooden frigate; using missiles seemed like a waste. To add to that was the problem of not directly targeting the Captain or the Spruance.

“Sir, does that count as being fired upon?” the weapons operator near him questioned.

“I’m not sure, but that’s not the only problem,” Bailey replied, instead choosing to question the Commander through the radio. “Sir, why do you want us to fire missiles? Our guns can easily deal with-”

“We’ve only got one gun, and it’s going to take a few shells to kill that thing,” Blake angrily interrupted, not happy about the minor interrogation. “I’d rather waste ammo than waste time; if we waste time, we risk losing the Captain.”

“But if our shots are accurate it may cease-”

“I am not risking this! I want that thing dead! Not crippled; blown out of the water!” Blake yelled as more shots were heard, and splashes were seen. “Damn it, they’re shooting near the Captain! Bailey, you fire that missile now! Before he gets killed!”

Not wishing to argue any longer, and guessing there was no ground for a moral refusal, the Lieutenant Commander agreed.

“Yes sir,” he complied in a somber, somewhat irritated voice, before turning to one of the men of his team, seated at his computer. “Fire one!”

“A-aye sir! Weapon away!” the operator stuttered, a bit unsure of the situation himself but not enough to stop him.

Even as the RHIB, only being about halfway to the horse’s frigate, turned back towards its home, a Harpoon anti-ship missile flew out of the destroyer’s launcher. There was a roar as the rockets ignited and shot the missile out over the sea, towards its target, leaving a cloud of smoke and an eerie calm. Blake became a bit frustrated by the quiet and contacted the CIC again.

“Why did you just shoot one missile?” he asked.

“Commander, one should be enough to deal with a wooden ship,” Bailey answered in a matter-of-fact tone, a bit sick of Blake’s insanity.

“On our world maybe; but we don’t know how tough these guys are,” Blake responded. “Fire a second missile, now!”

‘Jesus, this man’s lost it,' the Lieutenant Commander thought, briefly considering disobeying Blake. ‘Some will already die from this, how much worse is he trying to make it?’

In the end, he saw the futility in arguing; if he did not do it, Blake would march down a deck to CIC and do it himself. But as the ship shuddered from the second launch, Blake watched another volley fly from the Griffon frigate. One of the cannonballs shot over the targeted deck and splashed almost directly in front of Keith’s RHIB, with the boat almost going through the spout had its driver not quickly swerved out of the way. As with before, the water was the only thing to hit the individuals. But it scared Blake enough to lose his common sense, what little was left; he was not taking chances with these aliens.

“Fire another two!” he commanded without thinking.

‘I swear, I’m talking with the Captain about this later,’ Bailey planned. ‘I’m not serving under a guy who can’t even control himself.’

Bailey did not respond to him, as he had nothing but protests, but two more Harpoons flew out towards the targeted frigate all the same. It was at this time one of the lookouts announced the Chinese vessel was moving at a faster speed, and closing on the Griffon frigate. Blake looked over and noticed the Zhuhai racing across the water towards the Griffon vessel.

“Moving to help your new friend?” he whispered to himself. “Well I’ve got a little friend of my own. You try anything and they’ll send you to the bottom.”

Blake clenched his hands into fists as he watched the Zhuhai move. As it came closer and closer to the frigate, one of its guns rose, taking aim at something. Suddenly it fired, and Blake was about to call the CIC to open fire on it before he noticed something. A small explosion hit the Griffon frigate, followed by another and another each time the gun fired.

“They’re not attacking us?” he said to himself before sighing heavily in relief and setting the radio back down. “Oh… oh thank God.”

The first Harpoon had moved close to its target by now. Flying over the sea, the missile shrieked in and crashed onto the targeted warship, near the stern. This was followed shortly by a large explosion that ripped the back of the ship clean off, while the bow almost immediately began to rise into the air as the ship began to sink.

“Enemy frigate destroyed,” the C.I.C. reported.

The Zhuhai stopped firing and continued to move closer, presumably to rescue survivors. Blake felt relieved at this point. The fighting had stopped, and they had killed the aggressor without any problem. No doubt he would be in some trouble, but the Griffons had shot first. And they had put the Captain in a dangerous spot. That should be enough to justify a response.

The same feeling was shared by everyone in the C.I.C., particularly Bailey. The Chinese were not hostile, and that meant the radio problems were just that, radio problems; there was no intended interference. Everything seemed like it would end well, until a shout from one of the nearby operators turned the situation into a nightmare.

“The other birds are still going!” the CIC suddenly yelled. “The second is targeting the Luda!”

"What!? How!?” Bailey asked, shocked by the sudden, seemingly impossible development.

“I don’t know sir! I don’t know! They were flying and their targeting system just locked them onto the Chinese! I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with them!”

“Then stop them!”

“I-I can’t sir! The self-destruct’s not working!” he replied, repeatedly jamming his finger into a button.

“What do you mean it’s not working!?”

“I mean it’s not fucking working sir!”

This could not be happening. It was not at all common for a Harpoon to stray off course and find the wrong target; its guidance computer was one of the best. And now not only had it malfunctioned, but the computers in the C.I.C.  were, as well.  It all seemed so impossible, that they were totally helpless to prevent disaster.

Bailey ran over to the radio to inform Blake, but before anything else could be done the second Harpoon missile changed its direction, locking onto the Zhuhai. It received no kind of obstruction or return fire as it flew into the unsuspecting Chinese vessel, hitting in front of the second smokestack. The Zhuhai shook from the explosion as smoke began to rise from the destroyer.

Blake had been keeping track of things from the bridge, watched as his mood changed from relaxation to horror in an instant. This had gone into a terror scenario in a heartbeat. He had not meant to attack the Chinese ship, it had not shot at them. But how could the missile lock onto the Chinese? Had they gotten too close to the frigate that they merged on the missile’s guidance? Was it just plain terrible luck? How in the world could something like this happen?

Down below, Bailey had just gotten in contact with the bridge when the missile hit.

“Sir, the remaining two Harpoons are still going!” the operator yelled to him.

“Commander, the Harpoons and fire control systems aren’t working!” Bailey yelled through the radio.

Blake reacted quicker this time, but not quick enough.

“Stop them!” he shouted desperately, not knowing how they could do anything.

But once again, it was all in vain. There was nothing Blake, Bailey, or the sailors in the CIC, could do. Both missiles hit the destroyer again. The first struck near the aft, breaking through the armor and being followed by a rush of water. The second hit the turret on the front of the ship, knocking it out of the mount and leaving it resting on the deck, a large fire starting to brew in its place.

“No… damn it!” Blake cringed, unable to tear his eyes away from the tragedy. “Why?... How?”

This was nothing less of a horrible tragedy at best, and a total catastrophe at worst. The Zhuhai had stopped moving, and was listing to its port stern. The fire up front was starting to gain strength, dashing any attempts to put it out. Clouds of smoke began to obscure the ship from site, barely floating at this point.

“Commander!”

Blake turned to see Bailey, who had run up from the CIC to meet with him.

“What happened!? Why didn’t you stop the missiles!?” Blake yelled, angering his subordinate.

“We tried! The computers wouldn’t respond!” the Lieutenant Commander shot back. “Why did you want to fire four missiles!? One would have been fine! Why four!?”

Blake was going to respond before the radio from the CIC called again, forcing him to ignore the statement.

“What?”

“Sonar contact! Fish in the water!” the sonar technician reported from the CIC room.

Blake was even more lost; where in the world had torpedoes come from?

“Who shot them?” Blake asked.

“It was the Zhuhai, sir!”

“Well, tell us what direction are they coming and we’ll set helm on an evasion course,” Blake said simply, seemingly resigned to fate.

“They’re not aimed at us, sir!” the sonarman yelled back, trying to make the Commander realize the situation.

Blake stopped for a minute, trying to find out what they were targeted at, before coming to a horrifying conclusion.

“Christ, the sub!” he cried to himself before yelling into the radio again. “Get the Louisiana on the horn! Warn them now!”

“We can’t! Their buoy is down!”

“What the hell!?” Blake yelled.

Blake shoved his face into his hands in a pitiful attempt to hide. It was possible for the submarine to dodge the torpedoes. Her crew was well trained, and she was equipped to evade such attacks. If they were ready, then they stood a chance of maneuvering out of the way.

Unfortunately, hopes for that virtually vanished when the crew heard a muffled, unseen explosion.

“Commander… they got her… she’s gone,” the sonar reported solemnly. “They were too close to the destroyer to evade in time.”

“Damn it… just… damn it!” Blake whined, shutting his eyes and burying his face in his hands. “How… damn it how!? I don’t… no…”

“Blake!”

The Commander turned fearfully to see the Captain, back from his short boat ride, standing at the doorway to the bridge, his uniform drenched. Before Blake could speak a word in defense, Keith charged across the bridge right into him. Grabbing Blake by his uniform, Keith threw him against one of the bridge consoles, pinning him there.

“What the fuck did you do!?” Keith snarled, shaking him as he did so. “Why did you shoot at them!?”

“They were… they shot first… no, I didn’t!” Blake babbled, unable to gain a good grasp of his speech.

“You sank a Chinese naval ship! Why the hell did you do that!?” Keith went on, getting angry as the crew on the bridge watched. “What is wrong with you, you son of a bitch!?”

“I didn’t… I… there can’t be… it can’t happen.”

“Captain Keith,” the Lieutenant Commander spoke up.

“What?” Keith interrupted angrily, obviously not happy with Bailey either.

“I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that,” he explained, not losing his composure as his higher-up had. “The Commander did order the weapons fired against the vessel that initially opened fire, but the remaining three seemed to have their guidance systems… go wrong, and target the Chinese vessel. We attempted to terminate them, but our computers crashed, as well. We could not do anything.”

Despite still being angry, Keith was bewildered by this. The idea that three missiles locked onto the wrong target, with the fire control computers breaking simultaneously, seemed to be impossible. But even though he could not comprehend it himself, he trusted Bailey; he looked to be telling the truth.

“Do you know how this happened? Things like this don’t just happen, not to this degree.”

“We’re not sure, sir. The Harpoons themselves were in operational condition last time we checked. And the computer problems we had were not this severe,” he explained, unsure himself. “I would like to think there’s something else at work, but I couldn’t tell you what.”

“Hm… well even if it is, that’s not going to save the Commander,” he said, looking back at Blake, who was still stunned from the affair. “His place in this Navy is finished.”

“I’m afraid there’s something else, sir.”

“And what’s that?” Keith groaned, anticipating more bad news.

“I feel that it’s my duty to inform you that after you left, we made contact with the submarine we were told about, the Louisiana,” Bailey explained, still keeping his cool demeanor.

“And?” the Captain asked impatiently.

“Commander Blake ordered it to trail the Chinese vessel, in case it attacked. It was following close behind the Zhuhai when our missiles hit it,” Bailey explained. “The PLAN vessel launched torpedoes at them… they were to close and had too little warning to get away in time. We… know at least two torpedoes struck them… and our sonar tracked it going to the bottom.”

Keith stared at the third in charge for a minute, his rage temporarily suppressed by astonishment. It was bad enough that they had killed a Chinese boat, but they had lost one of their own in the process. Keith looked up at the Chinese destroyer; it was listing badly now, and on the verge of capsizing. He then looked down at Blake who had his eyes shut and was mumbling incoherent words to himself. The Captain’s anger returned, heavier than it had before.

“You bastard!” Keith growled, staring at Blake in his fury. “Over one-hundred men are dead now because of you!”

“No! It couldn’t have happened! It didn’t happen!” Blake cried, squirming on the ground.

A piece of Keith had the urge to drive his foot into Blake, but he repulsed the urge. Still, this was a total disaster, and the Commander was at fault more than anyone. Part of the first problem was not Blake’s fault, but the loss of the Louisiana was in its entirety; that was far worse than the former.

“I think he’s starting to lose it,” Bailey observed.

“I don’t care if he is! He’s not getting out of this without a court martial!” Keith replied. “Bailey, get someone to lock this idiot up!”

“Aye, Captain,” he complied, calling for a pair of the ship’s Marine guards.

Keith tried to calm down, and looked back at the water. The Zhuhai was starting to sink, with the stern already underwater and the rest of the ship’s body turning steadily. Nothing remained of the Griffon frigate from before, but the horse’s frigate was still there. He wondered what they thought of the whole event.  Either way, this was certainly going to be an incident to change the world.

'Where the hell do we go from here?' Keith wondered, watching the destroyer slip beneath the waves. 'God knows what this’ll change.'