Leviathan

Heirthall broke. Far too much had his mind and heart absorbed the past three years. The betrayal, the long separation from his children and his wife, the killing of innocent and guilty alike upon the seas, were too much for his once great mind. He threw his black Bible toward the cordon of marines and then turned for the riverboat's railing. As his hands touched the damp wood and rope, several shots rang out. Two minie balls pierced his back. One bullet hit his liver and one his upper back. He staggered, but managed to catch himself. He pulled with all of his strength until he could fall over the railing and into the river.

"You fools, what have you done?" Stanton cried out. "You men." He pointed at the four marines that had just missed taking Heirthall before he jumped. "Into the river. Bring the captain to me. He cannot have gone far!"

The marines dropped their rifles and started to climb the railing, but they never made it. Loud popping sounded through the thick fog and a hundred bullets cut the men down. A speed of fire no man had ever heard in the long history of firearms punctured holes in the large riverboat. Wood flew as even more bullets zinged through the fog. Stanton realized as he dove behind stacked barrels that he was witnessing something akin to the Gatling gun, but this was far faster, far deadlier. The remaining marines never had a chance to reload their weapons before large-caliber rounds sliced them to pieces.

They were facing another of Octavian Heirthall's miracle weapons.

The captain's wounds were mortal. He struggled to keep his head above water as he kicked with his legs. The fog and Leviathan's automatic weapons were keeping the riverboat's marines at bay, but Heirthall knew the secretary would not have been satisfied with just the one surprise treachery.

Suddenly arms were pulling him up and out of the cold river. The captain felt the cold iron of Leviathanagainst his wet clothing as he was hauled aboard. The voices were jumbled and he sensed fear and anger in his crew. He fought to gain his feet and finally cleared his vision enough to see his first officer, Mr. Meriwether, standing at his side.

"Take her down, Thomas, we have been betrayed."

"Captain, your wounds, they are--"

"Down, take Leviathandown, set course upriver." He struggled to the giant tower where he collapsed against the thick iron hatch. He slowly but angrily stood, leaning against the frame, and then entered the vessel.

"All hands stand by to dive!" Meriwether called out as he saw the thick swath of blood that covered the deck and hatch combing. He then followed Heirthall inside.

"Two ships approaching from the far shore. Our echo-sound report says they are ironclads!" he heard as he half-stumbled down the ladder into the control center.

As the announcement came, an explosion rocked Leviathanfrom beneath the bow, and then in quick rapidity another rocked her from the stern.

"That was not shot from an ironclad, those were placed charges. Get me a damage report."

Meriwether then eased his captain into the large chair placed on a raised platform at the center of the control room. As he removed his hands, he saw they were covered in blood, thick and dark red.

"Report depth under the keel!" Meriwether called out while still looking at his hands.

"We have only thirty feet under the keel!" the helmsman called from the front of the control room.

"Come about, all ahead full!" Heirthall said in a pain-filled voice.

Meriwether turned to Heirthall. "Captain, we must make for the sea before we find our way blocked."

"My son is dead, my family hostages, and ... and the president ... is dead," Heirthall said as his eyes clenched closed in pain.

Meriwether saw his despair. His own anger could have been that of the man that he loved more than a father.

"What are your orders, sir?"

Heirthall struggled and used the chair to stand. He quickly waved Meriwether away when he lunged to assist him.

"Lieutenant Wallace--I need him."

A young man, no more than twenty, stepped from his post at the ship's ballast control.

"Diving Officer Wallace, here, sir!"

Heirthall waved him over without ever opening his eyes to see him. He reached out and felt for the young man, finally feeling him underneath his hand.

"I ... have a mission ... for you, boy," he said, trying to keep the pain out of his voice.

A solid shot rang off Leviathan'shull. The echo was almost deafening. It was the first time her crew had ever heard their vessel's hull struck solidly at point-blank range by another warship.

"Ironclads are opening fire, Captain."

Heirthall's eyes fluttered open and fixed on Wallace. The captain knew the boy had been sweet on his youngest daughter, Olivia. It was reported to him that the two spent never-ending hours together, talking and reading. Heirthall would not sacrifice this boy--instead he would use the young man's feelings for his daughter's sake.