Maiden of the USS Indianapolis

Day 2

Leyte:
———- Hours.
Scheduled arrival time for the USS Indianapolis.
"Hey Danny boy! Did you get much sleep last night?"
"Nah. I was at the bar most of the night."
"Really? The bar?"
"Knock it off George."
Conversations swirled around the air, clogging it up. Some drifted through the air, lazy and slow, while others flew roughly around, fire bombing passerby's heads.
The Maiden of the USS Idaho strolled down the  pier and sat down on the end of the planks. She dangled her feet in the water, giggling as the fish nibbled on her toes. But the fish weren't the reason for her visit to the end of the pier. One of her sister Maidens was scheduled to arrive today, and they were supposed to hang out for the next 12 hours. Swapping stories and comparing battles was one of the highlights of shore leave for the Maidens. If this part didn't exist, eternal life on a ship where no one could see or hear you would get tiring very quick.
She sat on the end of the pier for the rest of the day and never saw her sister's ship pull into the Leyte harbor. Standing up, the Maiden anxiously scanned the horizon for the silhouette of the USS Indianapolis. But it wasn't on the horizon.
Maybe they were a day late.
But the Indianapolis Maiden was very proud of her ship and took great pride in being punctual. That was one of the things the Idaho Maiden wished to learn from her sister.
Maybe they had to make an emergency stop somewhere; rescue someone or get orders to go save the day somewhere else.
Idaho shrugged. Her pinafore ruffled in the tropical breeze as she turned and went back into the command center. If anything had changed, a notice would be up on the board instead of an arrival sheet.
When Idaho arrived, she was shocked. In the slated spot for the Indianapolis, there was no papers. No change of plans, no notice of delay, no arrival papers, nothing.
And that was worrisome indeed.
                                        *  *  *
Her men were dying, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Indianapolis stirred as the sun peeked over the horizon. She surveyed her crew. Most were fine, although exhausted from floating all the previous day. Some of the men were severely burned however, and oil coated them and the top of the water. Sunburns were starting to appear as well, and cuts, bruises, and scrapes that stung because of the salt water.
The Maiden could feel how angry her crew was and their fear of the unknown days ahead.
Her gaze landed on Mark and Gabe. Gabe was waking up, blinking in the early morning sun. Mark was still.
"Hey! Hey, Mark! Wake up man." Gabe swam towards Mark and shook the boy. Mark's head lolled around on his shoulders. His hair was wet and plastered to his head. Gabe choked back a sob as he turned Mark.
"No, no, nonono. Mark, come on man, wake up!"
With a thump, Mark's head flopped forward, revealing a large gash that stretched from his neck to his shoulder and seemed to continue on past his torn uniform shirt.
Gabe released Mark and leaned back on his life jacket as he cried.
The Maiden sullenly watched these events unfold. She closed her eyes, the waves around crashing through her incorporeal body.
The Maiden screamed into the morning air. Her crew were dying. It was only the second day, and they were slowly being picked off from their wounds, the sun, and the waves.
And it didn't look like any help was on the horizon.
She steeled her resolve. Captain McVay was alive somewhere, rallying men around him. But without a ship, he was no longer the Indianapolis.
She was.
The name was now hers, it belonged to the wind and the sky and the waves. It belonged in the history books and in the hearts of the survivors.
But most of all, it belonged to every single one of her men floating around in the waves.
Indianapolis.
She let the name ring out.
INDIANAPOLIS.
She claimed the name as her own, as her new name for the rest of eternity. She would not travel with another ship after this. She would get these men to safety and then come back to live with her ship, just like the Arizona.