One of the shredders came straight for the bridge. Nagata and Hopper were the only ones remaining upon it, and they hit the deck as the shredder tore through. The glass may have been gone from the windows, but the supports were all there, and the shredder ripped them apart, sending the upper part of the bridge crashing down upon the lower. Debris landed all around Hopper. He twisted and turned, trying to avoid it, and a jagged piece hit the ground not more than an inch away from his head. Had he been a half second slower or a fraction less lucky, the thing would have bisected his skull. Then again, with debris raining down upon him, it was hard for him to think of himself as lucky.
Nagata was as buried under debris as Hopper was. He was struggling to push it off himself, and then Hopper said in a low, taut voice, barely above a whisper, “Don’t move! Don’t even breathe!”
Having torn the bridge apart, the shredder was now hovering above it, slowly drifting right and left. Hopper was certain it was looking for signs of life and if it found him and Nagata, it would tear through them with as much ease as it was destroying the ship.
The shredder descended slowly toward him, blades whirring, coming closer and closer. Sweat beaded his forehead and his eyes were fixed on the edges of the blades approaching him. It doesn’t know I’m here… it’s not sure, he thought furiously. If it knew, it would come right at me, finish me off. As long as I don’t make any move against it, maybe it can’t distinguish me from the rest of the crap around me. Playing dead is the only chance we have, because we’re sitting ducks right now. This thing has us cold. So the only shot we’ve got is to hope it doesn’t know we’re alive.
Inch by inch it drew nearer, the steady breeze from the blades wafting in Hopper’s face. It came to within less than three inches of him, and he felt sheer, stark terror building inside, seeking release. He kept his teeth clenched against it, suppressing it, and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see the blades descend.
And then, just like that, the shredder was gone.
For a moment he thought it might be some sort of trick. That perhaps it was pulling back to see if anything moved, and once found, it would then attack again. But no. Through the demolished remains of the bridge, he could see it angling down toward his ship. It struck the foredeck and sliced right through it, sounding like a buzz saw, penetrating with ease and heading belowdecks.
Desperately he started trying to work the debris off him. He was at a bad angle, though, with no leverage, and couldn’t shove it away. Then he heard a sudden crash to his immediate right and inwardly jumped, afraid the shredders had returned.
Instead he saw Nagata, rising up from the dust and debris, taking only a second to brush at his uniform. Then he moved quickly to Hopper and yanked upward.
With Hopper pushing from underneath, the last of the wreckage was shoved aside.
Quickly Hopper flexed his arms and legs to make sure everything was still functioning properly. Nagata put out a hand and Hopper took it, and Nagata yanked him to his feet. Hopper staggered, coughing, over to the 1MC and punched the button, activating it. It was just about the only thing in the bridge that was still functional.
His heart died within his chest as his voice rang out through the ship: “This is the captain. All hands, abandon ship. Repeat, all hands abandon ship.”
Hopper’s voice sounded in the bowels of the ship, but it was making little difference to Ord at that moment. He was busy running for his life.
He sprinted down a hallway and the high-pitched whine of the shredder pursuing him was drawing closer and closer. Every second that passed he was sure he could feel the blades about to slice through his spine. He screamed at the top of his lungs as the shredder closed in on him.
And suddenly, as he passed an open hatch, a hand reached out and yanked him through it. It was Raikes. There was desperation etched on her face, but also determination. She was a survivor, and she clearly had no intention of letting the flying puree machines put paid to her or anyone near her.
The shredder reached the end of the corridor, whipped around, and was about to head right back after Ord. Suddenly a massive cascade of water crashed in through the hold. It immediately enveloped the shredder, which was helpless in the grip of the water’s crushing force.
Side by side, Raikes and Ord pushed the hatch door forward. Water came roaring up, pounding against it, nearly knocking the two sailors off their feet. But they maintained their footing, shoving with all their strength against the hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of water that were trying to shove the hatch door open. On the verge of being overwhelmed, they pulled desperate strength from somewhere at the last second and managed to slam home the door. Raikes spun the locking mechanism for good measure.
“It’s gonna flood all the holds!” shouted Ord.
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock! What do you think ‘abandon ship’ means? Come on!”
They ran as fast as they could, trying to find corridors that hadn’t been rendered impassable by water or that didn’t have shredders maneuvering through them looking for new victims.
Their actions were being mirrored throughout the ship. Sailors were desperately struggling to close hatches against the increasing flooding, yanking their fellows out of danger whenever and wherever they could.
But there were the screams as well. The screams of men and women who were lost to the shredders, or their bodies broken by sheets of water hitting them with the force of jackhammers. The survivors knew that the howls of their lost shipmates would stay with them for the rest of their lives… assuming they managed to survive.
Hopper and Nagata were moving through the corridors and passageways, helping the evacuation wherever they could. Everywhere they turned they saw the devastation the shredders had inflicted upon the vessel. The air was slowly becoming thick with smoke from distant fires as explosions rocked the ship. You’d think the water would put out the damned fires, Hopper thought grimly.
The worst were the bodies they discovered. Men, women—shipmates—who were destined for a watery grave because there were too many to do anything about.
Hopper’s face and uniform were smeared with ashes and blood. Nagata was much the same.
Soon they were up to their ankles in water, and then their shins, and it was rising steadily. They sprinted up the gangways, having done everything they could, seeking higher ground, which wasn’t going to remain high for much longer.
More explosions rocked the vessel, and Hopper was thrown against Nagata, who caught and steadied him. The destroyer was shifting under their feet, angling sharply. It was easy to tell which direction by the tilt of the water that was rising below them. “Head to the stern! The stern!” shouted Hopper as the ship began to tip on its bow.
They raced toward the non-existent safety of the upper levels, hauling with them anyone they found.
And suddenly a blast of water roared in from a cross corridor. It knocked Hopper completely off his feet, sweeping him away from Nagata. He had a brief glimpse of Nagata’s eyes widening in dismay, his hand reaching for Hopper—not coming close—and then Nagata rapidly receding as the water bore him quickly and furiously down the passageway. Hopper tried to get his feet under him but the swirl of the water knocked him right off them again. He went under, splashing his arms wildly, and suddenly something hauled him upward. His head broke the surface and he looked around wildly.