Unknown Rider

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Damn the torpedoes.

The immortal phrase inscribed on the warship’s superstructure was nearly impossible to read through the inky darkness as it rose with a cresting wave. The Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruiser shuddered as her bow plunged into a trough, showering her five-inch gun and forward vertical launching system with frigid seawater. Had the ship’s bell not been secured, even its clanging would have fallen silent under the tempest of the sea.

In her stateroom, Captain Bethany Lewis smoothed her hair back, then perched the dark blue baseball cap on her head and pulled its brim low to shield her tired eyes. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, unable to keep her gaze from wandering to the gold embroidered scrambled eggs on the bill of her hat. This wasn’t her first command, but not moving up from executive officer brought its own unique challenges.

Taking command of a warship on its final voyage even more so.

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