The gun rocked again. Another Mongolian vessel was blown clean out of the water, and it's shrapnel blew one of it's mates to bits.
Gus Waber laughed and clapped the gunner on the back.
"Good job! Not too bad for our maiden voyage. Chalk another Mongolian ship up. How many is that, commander?"
The commander of the Leviathan checked one of his charts.
"Seventy-nine!" he yelled back.
"We're shit-hot!" exclaimed Waber.
Waber had never seen a fleet routed before, but he saw one now. The ships that weren't sunk were fleeing. A lot of the fleeing ships were crashing into the wrecks of their compatriots.
"Keep firing, don't let any get away!" said Waber.
The guns continued firing their massive shells and the decks continued rocking from the force of the guns.
"Navigator, plot us a course for the Mongolian coast," Waber said to the navigator.
The Leviathan slowly began to inch along towards Mongolia. They'd been cutting a route from Australia to the Asian mainland through Mongolian infested waters. The Leviathan had been having nothing but great luck. The Mongolian fleet was a lot larger than Waber had expected. He supposed it was a direct result of having such a large populations, what with the relocated Chinese and all.
Waber had discovered an interesting little fact. The Leviathan was so large that it wreaked hell with observation systems like sonar or radar. They were practically undetectable, and even if they were detected, what kind of a radarman worth his salt would believe a screen that said something the size of Jupiter was bearing down on them?
Waber looked around. The blue water was clouding red with blood.
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