//------------------------------// // The Battle of Stormwater Cove Part 2 // Story: The Red Sun Rises: Voyages // by The Atlantean //------------------------------// Robinson stared at the radar view on the screen in front of him with great concern. The Russian military was in the pastel-colored world, ramping up the difficulty tenfold. Gone were the days of smooth sailing and uneventful trips. Worse yet, the Russians and Chinese had already destroyed the rest of the Pacific Fleet. And with depleting supplies, Reagan and her escort had virtually no chance at bringing Celestia to the Dominion. The Equestrian stood next to him with the same concerns on her face. Unless she could do something really insane in the next few days, they were all probably going to Davy Jones. Their attention shifted back to the tactical displays. Nothing had appeared representing surface-to-surface missiles, but they'd keep a close watch just in case. Each second without retaliation was a second of high adrenaline and nervous crew. Also, they would be relying a lot more on Pennsylvania, as her outdated combat systems weren't hooked up to Aegis. That meant she couldn't be hacked to launch at friendlies, like Klakring moments ago. Also, the battleship was less likely to be as much a target as the more advanced Nimitz-class carrier. The more Robinson could take advantage of his arsenal, the better off the fleet would be. Aboard Pennsylvania, Captain Ross had his repair teams working around the clock to outfit the ship with equipment necessary to become a reserve flagship. Computers were updated with as much tactical data as could be stuffed into their hard drives, hull plating was reinforced with bulkhead parts, and a beyond-repair Super Hornet had been taken apart to provide its higher-tech Gatling gun at her bow. The battleship’s superstructure was going under major modification on a scale normally done in drydock. Even so, she had to stay operational, so the Bridge and other necessary systems and rooms were left untouched. Slag flew off the ship as her crew kept at a high rate of construction despite the current situation. In Reagan’s Combat Information Center, Robinson directed the others for a briefing as Amber walked in, the final officer to arrive. She sat in an empty seat typically reserved for the official CAG, but she had taken that role when the Bridge was several days before. The admiral kicked off the briefing. “As all of us know, we are what’s left of the Pacific Fleet. This means that we want to preserve the ships and lives aboard, not to mention trying to get back home anyway. But I will not retreat after something like this. We cannot let this world believe America weak, and therefore ripe for invasion. “Our aircraft were targeted about four hundred miles west of Stormwater Cove. The second cycle landed back here safely, and the two pilots left in the first cycle were picked up by USS Omaha. All surviving pilots are now in the Hangar Deck, awaiting further orders. However, there are no orders they can really be given unless we’re okay with losing all of them.” The others nodded agreement, and he continued. “So the plan is to sneak at night with Pennsylvania’s lifeboats. They are the most experienced people we have at an assault like this, so I’m willing to let them do this. The only problem is that they have to be two hundred miles offshore to do that. In order to get the lifeboats past waters possibly infested with enemy submarines that can dud all our torpedoes, as relayed by a makeshift communications system put in place by the Pentagon.” Amber asked, “And how the hell are we supposed to do it without functioning torpedoes, hacked Aegis Warfare Systems, and not even half a carrier escort with the main supply being rations?” “That’s the question I like to hear. However, you are out of line, Commander.” he replied. “Sorry, sir.” “No, that’s okay. We are going to do it by…” he explained the plan to the senior officers step by step. Two hours later, a Russian Severodvinsk-class nuclear submarine was detected by radar coming from the island. It obviously had a full Torpedo Room, otherwise its captain wouldn’t have departed to knock out Reagan. Without anti-submarine software that wasn’t disabled, the fleet could do nothing but wait. K-329 Severodvinsk. Modern Russian Nuclear Submarine. Nazarov Vsevolod Olegovich, known as Captain Vova by his crew, was pleased to see that the American carrier would soon be in range of his heavyweight torpedoes. The few surface ships were not turning to intercept him, and that made his job so much easier. Turning clockwise while looking through the periscope, he saw the WWII battleship, its crew making some kind of modifications to her superstructure. But no matter, as the massive ship was the next target after the carrier. Letting his mind wander, he remembered first receiving the orders three hours ago. Anti-carrier missile launchers had not been moved to the former pirate base, so he was tasked with sinking the fleet that so eagerly launched its aircraft and lost the ensuing engagement. Another point for him was that he had sunk USS Nimitz in the Taiwan Strait with no mercy shown. Experience outranks everything, even in the Russian Navy. Bringing his mind back to present, he looked at the carrier through the periscope. The gray warship wasn’t even doing anything. Her speed was only five knots, and with a ninety-degree angle off Captain Vova’s bow, he couldn’t miss if he aimed right. Still looking through the periscope, he suddenly fell to the deck as the entire submarine shook and ground to a halt. Vova quickly stood back up and looked through the periscope again, and saw the carrier moving… down? He turned to the other ships and saw the same thing. “Helm, what the hell is going on? I didn’t order us to surface!” “Captain, we didn’t do anything!” the Helm cried with a thick Russian accent. “Sonar, confirm that we’re going up!” “Sir, depth is negative! I have no clue as to what to do!” “Send a sonar ping!” The sonar operator complied, and a loud sound was sent through the air. Whatever the hell had the submarine in a telekinetic grip released, and the large underwater craft fell to the surface. Everyone inside flew for a second, then slammed into the deck as Severodvinsk stopped at the ocean surface. Many groans of pain could be heard, from even Captain Vova. they all recovered and Vova ordered a torpedo launch to distract the carrier group long enough for them to escape. It was done, and they sped away at ahead flank. USS Ronald Reagan. Celestia stood on the Flight Deck, just in front of the Island. Her eyes were closed in concentration as she tried to find the enemy submarine sneaking towards the carrier. It wasn’t too hard; she just had to keep a grip on it. She found the submarine and held out both hands in its direction in relation to her. Holding them out palms-up, she raised her arms slowly, steadily. Sweat rolled down her face from the mental exertion. It didn’t take long for her entire body to be shaking and soaked in sweat. Her hair blew in the wind generated from the magic usage, thankfully not getting in her face. The water parted about five miles off to starboard as Celestia’s target rose into the sky. Its bow faced the carrier, and its periscope stuck out way more than normal, as the thing was picked up at periscope depth. The conning tower swayed with the unexpected wind, causing Celestia to use even more magic to keep the submarine upright. Everyone in the fleet watched in awe. A flying submarine was the most insane thing they had ever seen since Celestia’s arrival and the sailing into Equestrian world. A loud, sharp ping blasted by her ears and she covered them, squeezing her eyes shut in pain. She crouched to try to lessen it, but it didn’t work. She lost her grip on her target, and the Russian sub fell to the surface. It hit with a splash many times the size of a belly-flopping whale, sending up huge plumes of seawater. Its crew was no doubt shaken by the experience. “Ahh…” she groaned. That sound really did a number on her. Her head was spinning, her body felt like it had been both squeezed and released in less than a second, and - was that blood coming from her ears? Unbeknownst to the princess, the enemy had launched a torpedo, and she would’ve detected it and tried to stop it in its tracks if she could just stand up again. She had just stood up again when the entire carrier shook from an explosion sending water flying up to the Flight Deck. The rock knocked her back down, and this time, she didn’t dare stand up. In the Bridge, Robinson dealt with flooding on some of the lower decks. A Russian heavyweight torpedo had just impacted Reagan dead center, directly below the Island superstructure. He seriously hoped it hadn’t been damaged by the hit. The lights flickered out, and Robinson heard the forward emergency diesel engine rumble to life, signaling that both reactors had SCRAMed. With no operable reactors, the carrier had no propulsion, which meant her greatest asset, speed, was no longer available for use. Flooding meant that the ship could already be doomed, but it was possible that the compartments could be sealed before Reagan was pulled under the surface. And without propulsion and working defenses, Reagan was a sitting duck for anyone who wanted to make the kill.