[Funngunner]

So, I gave this prologue thing a whirl, but I'm afraid I didn't hook anyone with it. Maybe I need an epilogue to my prologue... sheesh... Anyway, thoughts? criticisms? Complaints?

STORY BEGINS HERE:

Prologue:


The Abukuma screamed.

Her hull crumpled, and metal shrieked in violent agony as volley after volley of incoming fire bracketed the warship. The antimatter-packed shells slammed against the light cruiser’s faltering shields in a seemingly endless wash of angry electric-blue explosions.

The ship staggered under the heavy blows. Precious oxygen, the penultimate life-blood of the ship and her 300-man crew, flowed from her savaged hull in crystalline fountains. The lights inside the ship flickered as circuits failed. Both the living, breathing crew, and the mechanical embodiment of the ship were slowly bleeding to death.

The flagship of Destroyer Squadron Seven, the Abukuma was never designed for fighting her current foe. She was classified as a light cruiser more because of someone’s idea of a joke in the Bureau of Ships then because of any degree of combat capability. Compared to others of her ilk, she was under-armed, under-protected, and under-powered. The sleek lines, slender hull and battery of five-centimeter antimatter cannons of Abukuma were more fitting of a destroyer than any cruiser-type warship.

Which made her perfectly suited for her current role leading a small pack of destroyers. Against similarly-armed ships, she was a formidable force to be reckoned with. However, the ships in the distance were far from the similarly-armed foes that the Abukuma, and the tattered remnants of Destroyer Squadron Seven were accustomed to facing.
* * *
Captain Isoruku Nagumo, commanding officer of the light cruiser Abukuma, stood patiently. Above him, circling gaily, seagulls climbed and dove, calling out to their winged brethren. The sun was hot, but yet, not unbearably so. Inhaling deeply, he let the sea breeze fill his nostrils, the sound of the waves crashing upon the shore engulfed him.

Onjuku beach, nestled in Chiba province.
He was home.
At last.
And content.

Out in the frothing surf of the Pacific Ocean, waist deep in the blue-green sea, Akina and Jiro frolicked, their high-pitched shrieks of delight as the waves rushed by towards the shore drowned out even the calling of the gulls. They were laughing, jumping and waving anxiously for ‘Chichi’ to come join them in their play.

As he had promised.

Closer in, her eyes focused upon her young like a watchful mother bear, Kohana watched the children. Now and again, she admonished the children. "Don’t go out to far," or "Jiro, come back towards me."

She was resplendant. A beauty out of a Hiroshige painting. She was a specter of romantic set against the beautiful rising hills, a sentimental landscape. The setting sun cast shadows in odd angles and shapes and silhouetted Kohana in an exquisite outlines. As she always had, the beauty of her feminie form had a profound impact on Isorku.

"Isoruku," she said, diverting her attention ever so briefly from the children towards her husband. "Come and join us. Please."

She gazed upon the solitary man standing on the beach. He was not’t the same as when they had married. The ravages of time had not been pleasant with him. Long since gone was the youthful exuberance he had demonstrated during their courtship.

The lean chiseled edges of the fresh-faced academy graduate were replaced by jowls and sunken-in eyes. The meddlesome gleam in his eye was still there to be sure, but years of orders and rations had taken their toll upon him.
Isoruku knew this.

He knew she would leave him.

A week later, after returning from the beach, they had fought. Another combat deployment, the third in a row, and for her, another year as a ‘Navy widow.’ She left, with their young children. Beautiful Akina, nearing her first year of primary school, and the rambunctious Jiro. He was so much like his father.

And yet, here they were.
With him.

He could feel the warmth of the sun upon his face, the warm wetness of the ocean, the salt spray on the tip of his tongue. They were real, and this was so much more tangible than the dreams. The dreams he had every night. And then the screams came from across the vast blue of the ocean.

Eyes wide, struck mute in shock and terror, he watched as the ocean bubbled and frothed. Jiro and Akina, caught too far out from shore by the sea’s nightmarish transformation, cried out in agony. The ocean rolled as it boiled hotter and hotter. The heat consumed the children. He stared, transfixed on the sight of Akina’s raven-black hair bursting into the flames as the waters consumed them.

He tried to run to them, to rescue them or to die with them, he knew not which, but his feet would not move. He stood mesmerized, frozen stiff as they disappeared beneath the searing surf. The heat of the ocean spread rapidly, turning the sand ablaze.

His wife, his little flower, stomped her feet in desperation as flames burst along the seams of her linen gown. She looked out at Nagumo, arms reaching out as she screamed. The terrible sound reverberated in his ears, and yet he could only idly watch as the inferno engulfed her as well. He felt the wall of flames that had engulfed all that he had wash over him, the searing heat stung his eyes, scorched his throat and scorched his skin.

Despite the pain, the mind-numbing shriek of his nerve endings, he remained unable to move.His last thought, as the flames consumed his body, was a solitary thought:

"It wasn’t supposed to end like this."