In practice, these machines were much more like a tank. A tank that could successfully navigate across the ever-shifting waves of the Kiln. Every ship in the Kiln at one point had been an actual watercraft, or that is how the rumor is told. The Kiln is a beacon which attracts such rumors.
Even if it were true, I doubt the ships in front of us looked like they did before the sea dried up. To survive down here, all have been heavily modified with an assortment of metal plates and makeshift towers. Guns were removed and replaced with the modern weaponry of today. The treads. Oh my, the treads. To the side of each ship were added gargantuan treads that allowed the machines to grip into the sandy ground and propel themselves forward.
Eventually I see her. The tall, jagged towers of cobbled-together steel peeking just above her neighbors. The Howling Dark. It’s a shame we can’t stay here during leave. Ever since I was assigned to this ship a decade ago, I have put my blood and sweat into making it the fiercest ship among the carriers. Looking at her is how I imagine a proud man feels after making a home for his family. I have no delusions of such a thing, so this… is my home.
The ship’s wide stern is facing the docks. Behind it is a large steel crane, meticulously lifting a series of gigantic steel boxes right into the center of the vessel.
The Howling Dark casts a wide presence. For just one moment, I want to take in this full view of her majesty—one I rarely get out in the desert. Her elaborate stern reaches high into the desert air. Banners of red, gold, and silver drape over the side, each woven in with a swastika of the Reich.
Engraved into the metal work is the depiction of an eagle, its wings outstretched as it clutches onto a large broadsword. Wrapped around the sword is a long winding piece of parchment bearing the words: For without the sacrifices of those before, I could not stand before you.
Pieces of the engravement were missing, however, covered up in a patchwork of various metals that speckled her rusting shell. A testament of the numerous battles she has persevered. Even with the patchy metalwork, the intricate sculpting of Aryan heroes and legends on the back still filled me with a sense of awe. It’s one of the few things that can do that to me anymore.
I lead Ulric to a makeshift contraption hanging at the back of the vessel. We clamber inside, and with a press of a button we are lifted up across the side of the boat. Noise from its bustling machinery begins to fade away as we are taken further and further up the ship’s hull. The wind reveals itself as my helmet protects me from a blast of hot sand.
The lift ends its journey with a loud clang and we stop, having reached the deck. I’m met with the sight of a busy crew, fifty or so men, all dressed in armor like Ulric and I. Their capes are flowing in the desert wind; some have them tied around their waste so they aren’t a nuisance. Each body goes about their small duty to make sure we are prepared to sail. Guns must be properly loaded. Flags must be unfurled. Engines must start.
As I slowly clamber off the lift the crew pauses their activities and turns their attention to me. My metal boots meet the steel of the ship in a loud clang. Every eye on the deck is on me as I straighten myself out and raise my voice.
“Hello, men.” I boom. “This… is my brother, S.S. Knight Ulric Manafort. He is new to the Kiln, and will accompany us on our journey. It is his job to protect us on our journey, if need be, and for that you are to treat him with the utmost respect.”
I turn to my brother, clasp my feet together, puff out my chest and salute him with one arm raised high.
“Sieg Heil,” I bellow, followed by fifty other voices yelling in unison: “Sieg Heil!”
“Carry on,” I order, waving them off to their own work, and the dock complies.
“Protection, huh?” Ulric comments in a curious voice lined with hopeful optimism.
“I’m required to say that,” I mutter in a deadpan manner.
If the two large towers sprouting from the deck were trees, then their leaves would be the numerous banners that were strung atop them. Wire and cable dangling between the two appeared like vines in a jungle. Between the two trees was a series of arches, each pointed at the top. They had just recently closed to encompass the steel boxes housed in the center of the ship.
“The closest tower to the bow houses the main bridge, while the second near the rear houses the defenses. Of course most of the ship is covered in some form of weaponry for protection, but that tower is just, extra defenses,” I explain to Ulric.
We navigate to the center of the ship, where the crates are being loaded in. As the crew hurries past us, my attention narrows in on one man with a small metal frame donned in a cloth of dark yellow. He is hunched over, analyzing a slab of metal in his hand. I don’t think he has spotted us through the crowd. I wait and wait. Eventually, I clear my throat and he turns around, startled, apparently not noticing my presence.
“By the fucking Führer, don’t scare me like that!” he exclaims. “When did you get here? Sneaking up behind me.”
“This is the sixth time I’ve been able to do that, Volker,” I say through spats of laughter, “You need to have more spatial awareness. I was yelling to the rest of the crew.”
“Well somebody has to account for all the crates. Guns, food, water, can’t forget anything. Not to mention resources for ourselves,” Volker defends himself in a high-pitched, grating voice. “Who is that?” he asks me, devoid of breath, pointing a gloved finger toward a puzzled Ulric.
“Volker, this is Ulric, my brother. He’ll be the Knight on our trip,” I explain in a light-hearted demeanor, still chuckling from the image of Volker’s jumping body, “Ulric, this is First Officer Wilhelm Volker.”
“Ah. The brother,” Volker remarks in a reminiscent tone, extending his pointing hand toward Ulrich and offering him an open handshake. “He’s told me a lot about you.”
“Really?” Ulric says, shaking Volker’s hand.
“Probably, I don’t know, the words jumble together over time,” Volker jokes, “But it’s nice to meet you. Hopefully you’re not too much like your brother.” He nudges me a few times with his elbow, and I laugh in return.
“So what is the status on departure?” I ask him. Volker hands me the metal slab and I analyze through its data.
“It seems we have accounted for all of the shipments,” Volker replies in a more logistical tone. “Most of these supplies are weapons, a few boxes are for food. We’ll be ready for departure in a few hours.”
“That works,” I reply, looking down at the slab. “I’ll just go around the ship and inspect everything, make sure it’s all in working order.”
“Sounds good,” Volker replies, taking the slab back from me.
“What should I do?” Ulric asks in an uncertain voice.
“Come with me,” I say. “If you’re going to spend some time on this ship, you might as well get acquainted.”
For the next few hours, Ulric and I wander around, inspecting every operation to make sure everything is in working order. The flags have been set. The weapons have been loaded. The treads have been cleaned. The crates have been secured. Even the engine room is now running, after I had checked to see whether Keller had finished drinking. By all accords, we are ready to set sail.
I stand on the tower closest to the bow, on a balcony right outside the main bridge. I can see everything, but for now I face the boundless sea before me. In the distance I spot an orange cloud floating over the horizon, stirred up by another ship. Out there, that will only be an ominous sign. The high winds shaping the grand dunes out there brush against my armor. I cling onto metal bars that have been stripped bare by the years of abuse from these conditions.