(This story contains xenophobia. Reader discresion is advised.)

Five attack submarines glided through the waters beneath the ocean waves, while five cruisers and twenty destroyers sailed above them under a blood red sky. Within the center of their naval formation was a large tanker ship transporting liquefied natural gas. On its bridge, in command of both the fleet and the vessel itself, was Admiral Patrick Z. Elliott. He is leading the mission to chase down and eliminate Aspido, and he intends to make it his finest hour.

The admiral was called to the White House, where the President of the United States and the executives of the Department of Defense, assigned him with the task of destroying Aspido. It was revealed that the sea monster’s body had the ability to regenerate its organs, sparking fears that it could strike another coastal city once it fully recovered. However, tissues that suffer enough burn damage and are separated from healthy cells, will not recover. There was supposedly more research the scientists wanted to perform, but it was considered superfluous by those who demanded immediate action. Elliott was given incendiary munitions, a choice selection of his most trusted personnel, and command over up to thirty non-nuclear capable vessels of his choice, but no control over strategic planning. One peculiar demand he requested was to be on one of the ships to personally supervise the mission. Admirals usually don’t personally run a ship, but that condition was granted. Elliott figured this was all an apology for how he was treated not too long ago.

Once out to sea with his fleet, the first thing the admiral did was ignore the agreed-upon plan, and instead intercept a large tanker ship hailing from a foreign power. Upon boarding the vessel and apprehending the crew, Elliott forced them to help load the incendiaries from the naval ships onto the tanker. Once finished loading, he then ordered the crew’s immediate execution, not caring that it would spark an international incident, since according to him, “That’s what politicians are for. Let them sort it out. Besides, they owe me.”

Contacted and asked by officials back at the capital monitoring his progress, on why he commandeered a foreign commercial vessel, the admiral only said, “It’s part of the mission, so we’re doing things my way.” The admiral then ordered his fleet to switch to radio silence until they got close to Aspido’s last known location. He knew the officers he placed in charge of each vessel would obey without question, and those under them would do the same. To him, it was what made a good sailor, a good soldier, or citizen as well. Elliott too knew he was good. He was a good man who went to church, got married to an honest, God-fearing woman, and had kids with her. He was a good patriot who fought for purity and shouted down anyone that didn’t believe they lived in the best country in the world. He was a good admiral who followed orders and kept quiet about what had to be done. This was no different. This time however, he knew his orders came from a higher authority.

Closing in on Aspido’s last reported location, Admiral Elliott was reviewing his new “modified” plan with Vice Admiral Richard Ducey. “Once the other ships keep the target in place,” Elliott was concluding, “we drive this tanker straight into it, preferably down its big ugly throat.”

“Excellent strategy, sir!” flattered the vice admiral.

“Thank you, Admiral Ducey.”

“Your brilliance is why I would follow you anywhere, sir!”

The comment caused Elliott’s spite to slightly bubble up into an unremarkable sneer. It was enough to creep onto his face, but not enough to be noticed by anyone around him, before pushing the expression back down inside. He continued, “Just think of it: this fleet is the first in all of history to face off against a sea monster that threatens the future of the planet. What we do today will prove once again the might of the greatest nation in the world is still unbeatable.”

“Admiral, sir! We’re nearing the last known location of the enemy, sir!” a subordinate officer announced.

“Have all fleet vessels cease radio silence and keep a look out for the target!” Elliott ordered, moving closer to the navigational bridge’s windshield, and viewing the horizon through binoculars.

On the leading submarine, Captain Oliver Hunley’s crew kept their focus on their instruments, intensely waiting for whatever would happen next. A sonar technician calls out to the sonar chief, “Contact! There’s something big dead ahead of us!”

“Classify.” ordered the sonar chief.

“Copy! Biologic!”

“How big is it?”

“About a half square mile sir!”

The sonar chief turns to another sonar technician, “Plotter, what’s its estimated speed?”

“Copy! Bearing zero knots sir!” answered the plotter.

The sonar chief then faced Hunley, “Captain, we may have located the target sir!”

“Begin slowing us down!” the captain ordered his executive officer.

“Yes, sir!” the officer replied.

Hunley calls in to report to Admiral Elliott’s vessel, “We’ve detected something massive ahead of us!”

The admiral knew it was Aspido. It hadn’t moved from the last location.

“All naval units, initiate the battle plan!” Elliott announced to his fleet over the comms before commanding his own crew, “General Quarters! All hands man your battle stations!”