Point Zero: Junk Battleship

Point Zero: Junk Battleship.

…

Commissioned by Ichypa

Wordcount: 2500

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Battleships are a show of force. A means to project power. They’re big, honking signals to everyone else that a group has the wealth, knowledge, and ability to create a giant weapon of war and send it somewhere else, if they wanted to.

While aircraft carriers replaced them, even when ships began to take flight, the battleship had its place in the skies as a flying brick strapped with guns that could dish out damage and take it. They had other ships running interference, piles of armor with thrusters attached to them piloted by smart software, but they were the frontline’s sword and shield while the carriers brought firepower to the party.

You build a battleship first, because it held the front, and built a carrier when you know you could keep it safe.

Never counting your chickens before they hatch and all the jazz.

I bet whatever gang we’re dealing with would’ve taken Point Zero by storm, if it weren’t for Elliot.

The battleship they built was obviously focused on a big, spinal cannon meant to ward off anything that came close and enough missile batteries and point defense to weather any aerial attacks from a carrier until it could take cover. The gang obviously put a lot wealth behind it, because even though it was on a refurbished hull, most of its weapons systems looked new or from the greater galaxy.

By all means, it was a behemoth of a thing that could lay claim to the city out of sheer audacity and hold it hostage until the UN was brought to the bargaining table. They could kill it, but they’d have to use bigger guns than they’d like on Point Zero, which could lead to a gang owning Point Zero in the eyes of the Intrepid until someone brought them down.

Yeah.

The whole battleship business was a massive stroke of genius and audacity on behalf of the criminal organization that we were facing.

They reached for the stars and had it in their grasp.

It was too bad that Elliot grabbed them by the pantaloons and was ready to administer justice.

And, there was nothing they could do to stop him.

…

“Surrender your vehicle. It will be impounded until you provide the proper permits and registration for it in accordance to the law. The vehicle’s type and bearing will be decided by the Point Zero DMV, which operates from Monday to Friday 8 AM to 8PM.” Elliot landed with the grace of an armored vehicle on the ship's prow. Meaning that he created the thin armor plating on the ship’s surface. The nearest deck gun turned his way. “It is illegal to arm and modify vehicles for the purpose of combat, unless you have the proper licenses provided by a workplace. Warning: I will be dismantling your property, if you do not deactivate your vehicle.”

“Elliot, I don’t think that they’re going to deactivate them!” I landed just behind Elliot. He was wearing light armor and a large, furred jacket as usual. Nothing he wore could hope to withstand automatic rotary cannon fire mounted on a ship. They were meant to rip through missile barrages and flying Bioweapons. But that didn’t matter, because Elliot had something else up his sleeves. “They’re going to attack!”

Most human beings, even those with ridiculously tough powers, would be shredded by the munitions. The rotary cannons of the current generation fired specialized munitions that created fields of penetrative darts with nano-explosives laced throughout their structure. If someone had a tough enough shell, they’ll smash themselves against armor and dig through it with concentrated explosives. If someone didn’t have enough toughness to handle it, they’ll either be perforated and turned to chunks, or find themselves with explosives laced throughout their body as they explode.

If Elliot was only tough, there was no way he’d survive the attack, but he was more than that.

He was bullshit.

“We are on duty and on the field, Agent O’Hara. You must refer to me as Commander.” Elliot admonished me while bullets smushed against some sort of invisible shield that erupted in front him. Seconds later tendrils from his biological drones surged forward and skewered the weapon system. Hypersonic muscle tendrils tipped with piercing bone tips harder than diamond and with monomolecular edges. “It is dangerous, so I will overlook your mistake, but keep it in mind. I don’t wish to dock your pay.”

Elliot didn’t even have to deal with the issue of having monomolecular edges being bullshit, because he could just program them to heal and reform that way… but eating tons of ice cream.

The man was a circus show of freakish, horrifying powers and he was powered by ice cream.

Still, no matter how utterly crazed he was, I was glad that I was on his side as he tore through the defenses of the vehicle with utmost ease.

“Please take note that you are resisting the impounding of your unclassified, weaponized vehicle and not surrendering. You have also fired a military grade weapon upon me. That warrants immediate arrest and your property is now forfeit. Any damage incurred upon your vehicle during this arrest is not the fault of myself or my Agent.” Several gangsters popped out of a nearby exit only to find themselves beset by the large, flying eyes that Elliot called his drones. They wrapped their tendrils around their faces and ripped their heads straight off their bodies, before choosing one amongst them to carry off the heads to a containment unit. “Rest assured that you will be arrested. Even if you resist, you will not die. It is my personal policy to only incapacitate criminals. After your arrest you will be subjected to a trial in a UN court.”

With those words said, Elliot gave me the thumbs up, which was clearly a signal to me about the fact that I could now attack and operate upon the battleship.

I took the wisest course of action available to me.

“Right behind you commander. Just lead the way to the next terminal. I’ll hack my way into this battleship.” Hacking through this thing was going to be a massive pain. They were probably using their own OS and I’d have to deal with a lot of malicious code. However, I was a rational and sane individual who had no interest in invading a battleship on my own. Therefore, I was going to stay right behind the living blender known as Verdict Commander Elliot. “Let’s do this!”

“Got it. Let’s head straight for the bridge, then.”

Oh.

Of course.

Since Elliot had willing support, then he’d naturally choose the most dangerous and riskiest path available

I am an absolute, bumbling moron.

…

We fought through the deck of the entire battleship.

Dozens of weapons emplacements, using everything from missiles to rotary cannons, were aimed and fired upon us while gangsters came froth from the bowels of the ship.

I understood the reasoning behind our charge. It was better to walk through an open area than an enclosed space filled with enemies. We’d otherwise have to spend a lot of time going through hallways and clearing rooms, but on the deck we just advanced while the enemy did their best to provide resistance.

For me, it was a harrowing experience.

Bullets, shells, and missiles rushed towards. Goons in power armor and using powerful weapons came my way and fired at me. My rifle punched through their armor, but a lot of them were hopped up on something and that made anything less than a headshot kill. Even if Elliot didn’t approve of the fact I was going for headshots, I wasn’t managing to get much, because the enemy was mobile, the battleship was mobile, and the winds were increasing as the battleship decided to go higher and introduce low oxygen and a bone-numbing frost to its defense.

I was getting shelled, beset by the weather, and being forced to fight on a hostile mobile platform.

I was not having a good time… but Elliot was walking through it all without a care in the damn world.

“Point out foes to me that you must kill. I will switch targets with you.” Elliot admonished me for my latest attempt to put down a roided out monster with bigger pecs than a brain. The man had been wielding an autocannon ripped out of an APC in one hand, while the other carried the ripped off turret top as a shield. My shot had missed, he’d readied to attack, and then his head was ripped off his shoulders and thrown over the railings to an awaiting bio-drone. “Verdict policy states to only kill when necessary. It is not when I am with you.”

“G-got it, commander.” My teeth chattered and the very depths of my being told me to scream and tell my commander to toss his policies out. However, my commander was also ripping through armored weapons systems without blinking and casually dispatching squads of monstrous infantry on a quickly-ascending battleship like he was out for a Sunday stroll. “I’ll do my best.”

My best was barely getting a shot on target, because my fingers were freezing beneath my gloves, and my ammunition was running low.

However, I didn’t need to tell Elliot that, because when I agreed the junk battleship suddenly came to a stop.

And the ship’s bridge’s windows suddenly exploded, before armored shutters sealed it off.

A rapidly-transforming woman hit the ground running, transforming rapidly from a human to a Bioweapon, and for the first time Elliot treated the situation as more than a stroll.

He actually considered the woman as a threat, drew his weapon, and started shooting at her while leveraging his powers.

Hypersonic projectiles with incredible armor penetrative ability that could home in on targets.

A military-grade rifle that shot superheated bolts of plasma.

Some sort of esoteric bullshit that allowed him all sorts or ridiculous feats.

All three hit the rapidly mutating woman and I decided to be a moron and fire at her too when she didn’t instantly turn into a red mist.

Thankfully, my commander was still looking out for me and I found myself rocketing back as one of his massive, eyeball-familiars dragged me out of the way of a newly-sprouted, chitin-covered limb.

An insect-type bioweapon.

One of the worst to fight.

Insect-types were fearsome one-on-one fighters with tough carapaces, vastly improved strength and speed, and incredible esoteric abilities.

Judging from the yellow chitin of the woman, I could tell she was one of the worst types too.

A wasp.

They were known to have claws that could cleave through modern military armor with ease. Their speed was ridiculous and allowed them to dogfight with fighter jets and terrorize the ground. Their esoteric abilities granted them a shield that they could manipulate into weapons, as well as a powerful regenerative ability that let them regain limbs in seconds. Nests of them were hit with orbital satellites and shelled, even if those nests happened to be in a former city. The entire UN treated them with care, respect, and kept their infantry and tanks away from them as possible, while using only specialists against them if needed.

By all means, Elliot pulling me back should’ve been a masterful sacrifice on his end that should’ve driven me back to the drink, but it wasn’t.

He caught the tank-bisecting claw coming his way with a bare hand, converted his gun into a plasma blade, and stabbed it through the Wasp Bioweapon while it stabbed him in the stomach… only for the Wasp’s claws to come out clean as he moved his entire abdomen, spine and stomach included out of the way by turning his midriff into just a serious of separate strands.

In short, I fiercely underestimated just how fucking terrifying Elliot was as he lopped off the arm in his stomach and approached his opponent that was now lacking a limb.

That lack of an arm shouldn’t have mattered, since the Wasp was already regrowing the limb, but it did.

Because Elliot was just that fast, and he brought the creature’s own claw against its head.

It had withstood his own hypersonic, antimaterial attack, but it couldn’t withstand its own and pierced through its own brain.

Elliot threw off the creature and reformed his stomach into something resembling human without missing a step.

The little bio-drone keeping watch over me brought me over to him and joined its brothers in hunting down the enemy while we both approached the bridge.

Well.

I approached the bridge, while Elliot claimed sovereign territory over wherever he stood.

The man was a monster and UN was lucky to have him on their side.

…

We took the bridge, and after a few headaches and assaults from the crew, we got the junkyard battleship under our control just as fighters from the nearest airbase reached us.

Elliot was thankfully able to flag them down and have them escort us to the nearest place that could handle the thing, instead of letting them blow us up.

A normal commander would’ve preened and strutted around like a peacock upon our landing.

Taking control of an entire battleship and hundreds of captives with just one Agent as support was something beyond expectations.

But Elliot’s shift was over by the time we landed, so he was off-duty and decided that he didn’t care.

So, after dropping off the strategic weapon, I sat across from him on a military transport speeding back to the office.

While he did paperwork and signed my cheque.

“I have taken note of all your achievement aboard the battleship. You followed all my orders and headed all my warnings, while achieving all objectives given. You went above and beyond, O’Hara. That means a large bonus and a commendation.”

I was too tired to make a snarky comment, but not too tired to spit out the drink I was sipping on after seeing my pay.

There were three more zeroes than I expected on my cheque and it was in Credits and not in Pounds.

I did some rough calculations in my head and realized that I was now in the 1%.

Not the 0.01 Percent, but the 1 Percent.

“Holy crap.”

“You’re officially on overtime, so I’ll let the profanity and lack of proper address pass.” I must’ve been more tired than I thought, because I suddenly thought that Elliot was making a joke. However, when I looked up at him, I found only his mask and goggles facing me as usual. “Is there something you want to say, O’Hara?”

A lot of things crossed my mind.

Many of them gripes about having a terrifying boss that led me into danger without a second thought.

But, surprisingly, I managed to tamp down my ire and give my boss a smile.

“Say, boss… you doing anything later?”

If I was going to yell out all the words I wanted, then I was going to get plastered first.

He was crazy.

He was terrifying.

He was freakish.

But he was a good boss that looked out for me.

It was the least I could do.