White-capped swells slapped against the hull, rocking the ship from side to side on its keel, its nose arching upwards, almost vertical before suddenly dropping down into the cold spray. In the distance a storm approached. Lightning flashed through the sky, seen but not heard, not yet. The crew grimaced, knowing that the rough waters were only a preface. Flanked by two Zumwalt class destroyers, a super-cruise-liner sat hulking in the water, its massive size unaffected by the roll of the ocean waves. The name across the side of the ship read, Crown of the Pacific. The smaller ship powered right up to the stern of the super-liner. It flashed the correct IFF signal, the meeting prearranged. The Phalanx cannons retrofitted onto the civilian cruise ship remained silent as they scanned the horizons. Chad slammed a quarter ton of weights onto the ground. The steel plates crashed loudly, the bar flexing in the middle before rebounding back into the air for a moment.
