The Last Ship~ Season 1

Chapter 2~ Welcome to Gitmo

I was steaming just off the coast of France and once again I was running on vapors. I had maybe six hours of fuel left with maximum conserve. There was a French port where I could go in a refuel, I just hoped there wouldn't be any trouble. But my hopes were in vain, as usual! My radar went crazy as I detected an inbound missile but if its target was me, then the coordinates and trajectory made no sense. It was going to fly right over me and it did do just that. I recognized the signature as a tomahawk cruise missile so there had to be another ship out here somewhere, out of radar range. As soon as the missile flew overhead past me, I knew. "It's headed for France!" I cried. Whoever it was out there had a bone to pick with me, the nuke was going to hit the port and prevent me from refueling. "All hands, brace for nuclear blast!" Captain Chandler shouted. The bridge crew ducked down and averted their eyes. I turned my head away as the explosion rocked me slightly. The shock wave hit and I gasped as the EMP burst knocked out my electrical systems. "Da-damn that hurts!" I groaned. "What happened?" Captain Chandler demanded. "The generators are offline." I groaned. The chief engineer and several others tried several times to get it to restart but the fuses wouldn't hold. A sailor approached the captain with the last one. "It won't hold!" he said. "It will hold." Chandler replied and locked it in place. "Get your hand out of there!" cried one man. Chandler shook his head. "Just fire it up!" He cried. Sparks flew and Chandler was thrown backwards. "Captain, are you alright?!" I cried. "I'm fine." Chandler replied. "But I'll be sticking to the walls for a while." I chuckled. His plan had worked, the generators were back online and I was running on my own power again but the issue of fuel still remained and with no port nearby to take on fuel, I was likely to be adrift by morning.

Then my radar detected another ship, couldn't be more than 5 miles away. I doubted it was the ship that fired the missile but just to be cautious I approached with weapons locked and loaded. I relaxed though when I saw it was a cruise liner, Italian by the looks of her. All her lights were on and her bridge appeared functional but she was drifting. The first thing I noticed about her was that she was covered in sores and blisters. Blood ran down her sides and the only way I could tell she was alive was the occasional cough she'd give, spitting blood on the water. She must've heard me for she raised her head and snapped "No, stay back!" I paused. "What happened to you?" I asked. "Stay back, please. I don't want you to catch it." She begged. Now I understood. I hated it but I drifted on a parallel course to her at a distance of 300 yards. "Dr. Scott, would her fuel be contaminated?" I asked. "It's unlikely. The fuel tanks are closed off from the rest of her, and the virus attacks the bloodsteam and fuel lines but the gas in the tank should be okay." She replied. I nodded. The ship looked at me. "Take my fuel, I'm a gonner anyway." She groaned. Moving as close as I could without getting too close, I hooked up the fuel lines and began the transfer. About halfway through she groaned. Her sides heaved with each breath and I knew she would die soon. She fixed me with an intense stare. "You and Dr. Scott must find that vaccine." She hissed. "But be careful, there's another ship on your tail. A Russian renegade." I nodded. "I'll be careful." I promised. "I-I don't even know your name." I whispered. She moaned. "Rex." She replied. "My name is Rex." I nodded and though I was risking being exposed I moved in close to nuzzle her. A weak purr escaped her. "Fare thee well, Nathan." She didn't speak again. Wordlessly, I closed her eyes and gave her a gentle kiss atop her head. "I'm sorry...." I whispered. I backed off and once the refueling was complete, I sailed off, setting a course for Gutamo Bay on Cuba for provisions.

It was a few hours into the trip that I began to feel nauseous. I was having a hard time sailing straight. My mind was foggy, and my head and stomach hurt like hell. I moaned and slowed to a halt. God I just felt so sick. Then, stiffening, I lunged forward, retching. Again and again I did this. Dr. Scott took a blood sample to see if I had caught the virus but all turned out clean. She took my temperature and it turned out I had a bit of a fever. I shivered as the last of the sun disappeared. The chief engineer soon found the problem. "The fuel from the cruise ship is just awful! It keeps degrading." She said. Bad fuel, no wonder I was ill. Dr. Scott gave me a pat. "Don't worry, in a few days you'll be just fine." She said. I nodded. "I sure hope so, I feel awful." I moaned, retching again. She rubbed my side with a cool rag. "Easy now, just rest. You'll be fine." She said. I nodded, closing my eyes as I dropped anchor.

It was another 2 days before I reached Cuba and pulling into port I was met with a welcoming party. "Terrorists." I hissed. There was nothing more I hated than terrorists. My family had a storied history with them. My brother, Cole, was nearly sunk by them in 2000 and my mate, New York was born from 9/11, built with WTC steel. I snarled. "Let me at 'em! Let me at 'em!" "Revenge is a dish best served cold." I heard Captain Chandler say over the radio. He was leading one of three teams to the warehouse. Another team was handling the fuel lines and another was in the hospital getting medical supplies. My captain's team though as soon surrounded and captured by the escaped terrorists. Hearing the garbled conversation over the radio I knew that he was giving a distraction, enough for me to locate his position and open fire. I soon had a lock on the exact coordinates. "But you know there's one thing that still lingers from the old world." Captain Chandler said. "Oh and what is that captain?" the lead terrorist asked. Unable to resist, I patched myself in and replied "We don't make deals with terrorists." The five inch gun was spot on and the terrorists were thrown forward by the blast. "Who are you?!" The man cried. "I'm your worst nightmare." I snarled as Chandler took it from there, pumping the terrorists guts full of lead. "Alright boys, that's good enough. Let's get out of here!" I said as I began to cast off. As I did though, I came across another ship. I recognized it as an old Kirov-class destroyer. "Weren't those things mothballed in the '90s?" I asked. "They may be ugly but they'll get the job done." Chandler replied. "Do not underestimate them. They were built to challenge the Iowa-class battleships." "Humph, some challenge they are." I muttered as the ship snarled. "Well, well, well. Nathan James, not the ship I'd expected to see." She said in a heavy Russian accent. I shrugged. "Looks are deceiving." I replied. She snarled. "Now, give me the vaccine and Dr. Scott." She said. "Those are my captain's demands." I shrugged. "No can do." I replied as our captains went ashore to discuss this face to face. In the end, what was resolved was a stalemate. I was stuck in port with a Russian destroyer whose only expression seemed to be a sneer. Just how long would this stalemate last before someone got hurt or worse killed? All that I knew was that I had to find a way to sneak past her, no matter what.