Nearing the Edge

by Eagle

Blockade

April 22nd, 2006
0600 Hours
Bostrot, Eastern Equestria

Source

“Okay, listen up. We’ve assembled you all here for an important mission, and because your ships are some of the few that are not damaged and are battle-ready,” the briefing officer announced.

The commanding officers of a number of ships, including Harrison’s, had been assembled in the intel center of the Enterprise. It was clear a major operation was being planned, but everything was still kept secret until now. Still, each man realized that this would be a counteroffensive operation, with the Navy finally striking back rather than running and trying to survive.

“Things have been pretty crazy for the last few days, but we’re getting a better picture of the enemy’s naval strategy,” the officer briefed. “Their attempts to bypass the main resistance line failed, but they still have the upper hand. They’ve been pushing a number of their surface ships out. It looks as though they’re in the process of starting a thin blockade of Equestria to halt our naval resupply operations. The Army has been constantly skirmishing with Bloc ground forces all along the front, and we’re expecting major attacks against the MLR sometime soon. We cannot allow their supplies to be cut so drastically, or they’ll be worn out within days. The N3 is going to breakdown how Operation Checkerboard is going to go, so pay attention.”

“Well as he said we need to stop this blockade from strengthening. We already have other ships with convoys ready to move from Hawaii and the mainland, but we need to punch the enemy down first. We’re going to organize a SAG to carry out Operation Checkerboard and break the blockade. The SAG’s formation leader will be the Bastogne, and will consist of the cruisers Santa Cruz, Cape Esperance, and the destroyers Alvin York and Donovan. We’ll have a flight of Hornets on call for ASM if needed but the Tomcats are going to stick with the harbor in case we get attacked by enemy aircraft again. However we contacted the Air Force and they’re going to lend us a local AWACS and a Raptor to help.”

“Sir if we’re looking at surface action can we at least get the Colorado to come with us?” the USS Donovan’s Commander queried.

“Negative. She’s still undergoing repairs and we need her to guard the carriers,” the N3 said. “We think you’ll have the upper hand regardless. Especially with our cruisers. Speaking of which there’s a secondary mission we have for you; we think it will be a good opportunity to battle-test their torpedo system.”

“The Scythe, Sir?” Harrison asked. “It should be a hell of a punch if they get within range.”

“Yes but the battle test is strictly secondary. Don’t divert from the mission and don’t endanger your ship or the others to carry it out. A couple of guys from China Lake happen to be in town; torpedoes aren’t really their forte but they should be able to write up a report for it, so they’ll be on board with you if the weapon is used. But the traditional tactics take priority for this. We can’t screw this operation,” the N3 stressed. “Now if there’s no questions we’ll start working out the details.”

“I think we ought to split up duties. Have some ships more focused on one job than the rest,” Harrison suggested. “Mike, can you work air-defense? We’ll load up the Esperance with more AA missiles than the rest of us.”

“Sounds good.”

“We’ll need to keep an eye open for subs, too,” the Alvin York’s commander added. “We can do that. Shouldn’t be too tough to multitask surf and sub-surf.”

These were just the initial specifics the warship commanders and operations staff had to tackle. Many others had to be worked out as well, from time and synchronization to the weather’s status, and all had to be done as quickly as possible. Regardless of any were missed or not, Operation Checkerboard would begin as five US Navy ships sailed from the harbor.

---

“Radar track Captain, it may be a picket.”

The battlegroup was arranged in a line formation, with the three cruisers leading the way. There was no doubt the enemy had spotted them too, but that was desired. The navy had not concentrated this power to slip through the thin blockade without action, it was assembled to draw the enemy’s ships out and destroy them, crushing the surface blockade before it could strengthen and fill in.

“Got another contact, a small one, moving towards us at high speed around... twenty-nine knots; I think it’s some Nanchuka knockoff.”

“I say we let him get closer,” Harrison said to his XO. “Let them know we’re planning to get through.”

“It will also increase the danger if that investigating ship decides to fire. There’s less distance and time to react.”

“I know, but it’ll be worth sending the bait out for them.”

“Sir, it looks like the enemy may have a greater reach than we thought,” Thomas observed. “Little boats like that can only last out here a few days, hardly choice for an extended blockade. They must have a resupply somewhere nearby.”

The Shadow naval vessel edged closer cautiously, keeping track of the American line. Already well within missile range, its crew lingered for a bit, observing the more powerful warships. Suddenly, the corvette began to move again and the Bastogne’s radio team sent a notification to the bridge.

“Radio intercept, the enemy ship is calling for help. It’s sending out a distress signal.”

“Good, that’s what we needed it to do,” Harrison said. “Let’s smoke her before they get away.”

The Nanuchka was the first to fire, launching it’s six Termit missiles at the Americans before turning around. Despite the relatively close range, the few missiles stood little chance of inflicting damage with the large number of US ships. Seconds after launch, all were targeted and destroyed by a flurry of SAMs from the larger warships, with most not even reaching the halfway point to their target.

The small corvette turned and attempted to flee, but there was little hope against such a large force. Within minutes she was struck by three missiles which obliterated everything above the waterline. With the picket destroyed, the seas became calm once again, though the sailors understood that it would only last an hour or two.

“Alright they know we’re here. Now we just need to wait for the bastards to show up,” Harrison said to his XO.

“With any luck the enemy forces will arrive piecemeal and we can deal with them one at a time,” Thomas observed.

“I don’t think they’re that dumb. Maybe they’ll do it if they panic,” Harrison replied. “Doesn’t matter. The SAG is superior to their local forces anyways.”

“The last sightings we had of some enemy battlecruisers were in this area. We should be careful if they’re still present. If the local blockade forces rally around one it could be trouble.”

“I’ll take my chances with the recent recon, now let’s just keep our eyes open. Their air should arrive first if intel is accurate.”

Just as predicted, the Griffon naval forces in the surrounding area quickly began to react. However, being so far from their bases and with their few numbers already stretched out for the blockade, there was little realistic hope of stopping such a powerful SAG. The naval quick response force was centered around a single cruiser, as compared to the three the Americans had. Still something had to be done, and many ships began to rally as others were sent to watch the humans and calls for assistance went out.

As the American intelligence team suggested the first enemies to respond were aircraft, with a local Bear F bomber closing and orbiting outside the range of the ship’s SAMs. Another patrolling Bear arrived and closed in, firing four cruise missiles at the Alvin York before retreating. It was little more than a lukewarm attack, with the missiles being shot down far off with little difficulty.

Throughout this time, the American AWACS kept watch, passing on long-range data to the ships. Despite the paltry air attacks, the aircraft from the Enterprise, as well as the Air Force Raptor, remained back and out of sight of the enemy. They were to be called on by the AWACS once a more serious enemy attack materialized; the SAG alone would break the blockade but some heavy damage had to be done to be sure it would not reform once they passed.

Twenty more minutes passed before another contact was picked up, this time another surface vessel coming up from the south. It was much larger than the corvette from before, being near destroyer size. Nor did it attempt to close in as its deceased colleague had, moving close enough only to observe the Americans while remaining outside of missile range. The American ships kept an eye on it as well with their own radar, sharing the data between them and the E-3 Sentry.

“AWACS and radio intercept is picking up a lot of traffic from that destroyer,” one of the crew informed.

“Good, they can keep calling for help.”

This destroyer was not foolish enough to venture in range of the SAG’s missiles, only watching them cautiously from the south as they steamed along their set course. Its mission for the time was to pass on up-to-date information on the advancing Americans to the other Griffon ships in the area, just as the orbiting Bear bomber was doing for their bomber aircraft. The Griffon naval vessels were already rallying to block them while trying to coordinate with their maritime bombers. Once they arrived, and everything was in position, then the lone destroyer could move in to assist.

“Sky Eye here, we’re tracking heavy surface vessel movement to the northeast. The enemy naval forces have grouped and they’re heading in your direction.”

The Sentry passed on the information to each ship, as well as the allied aircraft. Minutes later it called out another spotting, detecting a larger formation of bombers closing in to attack the navy ships. It was much more sizable, but this was good news for the AWACS. The mission was still centered around destroying a sizable amount of enemy forces. As the bombers closed in, expecting to coordinate a strike with the Griffon Navy, the single-ship anti-air ambush was launched.

“This is Sky Eye, second bomber wave confirmed passing Waypoint Grace at bearing zero-five-zero, altitude thirty-thousand,” the AWACS announced. “Mobius One, you are cleared to engage. Gain altitude and shoot them all down.”

Far below, close to the water, a solitary F-22 hovered under a cloud and waited for them to pass, hidden from their radar with its stealth. The Raptor pitched its nose up and gained altitude rapidly, targeting the unsuspecting bombers. A volley of missiles shot out and four of the six fell in seconds, leaving the last two to cry out for help before they were also killed. This left two escorting Fulcrums to battle him, engaging in a dogfight they were not expecting, sending out a warning to their own command that they were battling a Raptor with a ribbon painted on its tail.

“Sky Eye to Bastogne, Mobius has engaged and destroyed the enemy bomber formation. We see no other aerial contacts moving in your direction.”

“Perfect!” Harrison jumped. “Now we just have to kill their ships.”

The Griffon SAG, made up of the cruiser and four other destroyers, continued to move closer to intercept the Americans. Even with the destruction of their air support, they steamed ahead to engage their opponents. Though their speed was reduced as they closed in, they showed no signs of backing down.

The group entered the range of the anti-surface missiles, but none were fired. Initially both sides waited and held their fire as both held their courses. The range was reduced further as a tense standoff developed. Only the solitary southern Griffon destroyer closed aggressively with a higher speed for the offense.

Finally the opening shots between the two flotillas were fired, but it was not in mass saturation attacks. Only a few missiles were fired from designated ships, and then only two or three at a time, not enough to breach the SAM barrier. Neither side was willing to fully commit yet. The Griffons wanted to test the Americans defenses at first, giving some resistance while a new plan was developed or fresh air support arrived. The Americans on the other hand wanted only to keep their focus, keeping them occupied while leading them closer and closer; with their targets sailing into the trap, the American aircraft launched their second ambush of the battle.

“Alright, we’ve got their attention. Send in the Hornets,” Harrison ordered the CIC worker.

“Aye Skipper,” the radio operator replied, contacting the AWACS again. “Bastogne to Sky Eye. Hammer, hammer, hammer!”

“Understood, we’ll relay the message, out,” the AWACS confirmed, switching to contact the waiting F-18 squadrons. “Sky Eye to Wildcat and Kestrel. Hammer.”

“Copy that, we’re gaining altitude and moving to strike,” Commander Greenberg acknowledged.

“Be advised your target is the enemy cruiser at the center of the SAG.”

The Hornet squadrons of the Enterprise has been waiting patiently since their launch after the initial contact. The eight of them, each with four Harpoons under their wings, served as a single, powerful strike that could overwhelm a sizable vessel. With an acceptable target now moving to block the Americans, they in turn increased their speed and flew towards their firing point.

The Griffon SAG was already exchanging missile shots with their American counterparts at long range, with each side’s anti-ship ordinance being intercepted by the other’s SAMs. It was a half-hearted effort on their part, as the sudden destruction of the bomber formation had badly curtailed their planned countermoves. They soon picked up the Hornets on radar, though there was little they could do to stop them, only watch and prepare as they closed in.

The F-18 pilots selected the Kara-esque cruiser, the Caracal, as recommended, picking it out amongst the escort ships. The range steadily dropped between them and their target, with each plane ensuring to retain their place in the formation as they closed in. As soon as they were in range, Commander Greenberg sent out the call and the American jets launched. With crisp response and in near perfect unison, each Hornet fired their Harpoons towards the Griffon ships before breaking off.

The mass of ASMs shot towards the Griffon SAG, while the American ships also suddenly increased their fire, each launching a barrage of of Harpoons and Tomahawks at their enemy. Most would be shot down, but the sheer number in the single wave coming from two different directions ensured a degree of success. Some, surely, would get through to strike their target.

Defensive measures were taken amongst the Griffon fleet. SAMs were fired, jamming increased, countermeasures launches, and guns fired in a frenzy as they tried to save themselves. About half of all the missiles were shot down before they merged, but the results were devastating. The Caracal was hit by five of the Hornet’s missiles, leaving most of the upper deck and superstructure in flames.

“She’s going down for sure. Shit, that went better than I thought it would,” Harrison observed. “Okay let’s deal with the rest of them. Delegate each ship to a target but leave that lonely - down to the south alone. She gets to be our test subject.”

“The torpedo Skipper?”

“Yeah, she was dumb enough to close the range on us when her friends showed up. Get a fish in the water before they decide to turn around. The rest of our missiles are going to be needed to mop up the rest of that SAG.”

“Aye Captain. I’ve been waiting to run this thing,” the officer confirmed. “We’ll get a Scythe in the water and keep you notified of the progress.”

While most of the American group focused on killing off the survivors to the northeast, the Bastogne silently began a malignant experiment. A long, powerful torpedo launched silently from a single tube below the waterline. This new weapon was still in an empirical phase for battle, designed to strike extreme damage to any enemy ship close enough to be reached by it. With massive range and speed, along with a very destructive warhead and a nose designed to pierce surface ship’s hulls, the weapon was still easily detectable and distracted, nor could it maneuver tightly or well at all. It seemed like it could be easily dodged, but this was what the battlefield testing was for.

In the meantime, the Griffon warships to the north quickly realized their vulnerability with the loss of the cruiser and turned to escape. Having been lead in by the Americans, they were now subjected to a deluge of fire. It was a horrid nightmare that many of them would not live to see the end of.

Two of the four destroyers were sunk a minute apart from each-other, having eventually exhausted their SAM reserves. One was hit by a pair of Tomahawks from the Santa Cruz that tore off most of the stern, immobilizing it and causing it to take on water rapidly. The other was hit by a single Harpoon from the Donovan that pierced the hull and detonated the ship’s shell magazine, causing a massive explosion that tore the destroyer apart.

Neither of the surviving Griffon destroyers slowed to rescue survivors, maintaining flank speed to retreat from the battle zone. One of them, the Raven, was hit in the superstructure by one of Bastogne’s missiles but maintained speed and was able to escape. Her colleague, the Parrot, was the luckiest of the day and barely escaped without heavy damage.

Seeing the destruction of the Griffon ships on her radar, the southern destroyer quickly realized the situation had changed. The battle had gone from winnable to certain defeat. Her commander also then realized how exposed the ship was, now at the mercy of five more powerful enemies with no allies to distract or help. To make matters worse, as she began the process of turning to retreat, a warning came in from the sonar operators that a torpedo was closing at a remarkably frightening speed.

Other American ships were already opening fire on her, though her SAMs were intercepting with little trouble. Suddenly, she turned sharply to port before slowing down. Before she could complete the turn, there was a huge explosion in the center of the vessel, with a tall column of water mixing with the fire from the eruption. She stopped and began to settle, breaking in two right in the middle and sinking straight downwards.

“Fuck, I didn’t think it’d do that,” Harrison swore. “Lieutenant, let’s note that down as a success.”

“Yes Sir!” The officer responded proudly.

With this engagement over, the operation was a clear success. The enemy surface blockade had not just been broken, but the local forces enacting it had been weakened to the point where it could not be reformed. Still, it was not a decisive victory. Much of the Pacific remained a grey no-man’s land, and Bloc forces would still hunt warships and transports with submarines, aircraft, and raiders. They could not completely cut Equestrian off, but it could still be slowly choked.

With the mission resolved, the SAG was ordered to continue on to the west coast of the United States. The hardest part was over, but now they had to cover a large swathe of water filled with various hostiles. It was unlikely they would encounter another major force like today, but the ships were running low on anti-air and anti-surface missiles. Any further contact with the enemy could be considered poor luck, and as the American jets returned to their bases the warships settled into a comfortable speed to undertake their anxious trek towards California, hoping they were not assaulted again. For every sailor aboard, it was a very long way to San Francisco.

---

The sun shone against the dark tarmac and grey concrete that made up the airbase. Sitting comfortably behind the lines in occupied territory, in the former Duchy, it served as home for a number of Griffon Air Force squadrons. Of all of the ones at the base, and in the branch in general, the best was the 21st Fighter-Bomber Squadron, the 'Boreas Team', of which Gene belonged to.

The young Griffon was proud to be a part of it. The war had only just started, but the various pilots of the squadron had undertaken twenty-four sorties so far, fifteen of them air-focused, and each one had been a success. Altogether the 21st had claimed eighteen airborne enemy aircraft without a single loss among them.

Gene reflected on the war’s progress as he walked past the noses of the planes, clutching a paper bag of pastries he had acquired. There had been some setbacks, more than the generals or anyone would like, but the war was undeniably going well. If the momentum was kept up it would end quickly, and then the Griffon Empire could begin working out its proper place in this new world.

“Senior Bright Hook? Afternoon Sir,” he said as he approached an older Griffon, resting behind his fighter on a hammock tied between some trees. “The base commander came across a bunch of eclairs and he gave some of them to us.”

The Senior Lieutenant grinned as he sat up, taking one of the long sweets that Gene handed over.

“It’s nice to finally have someone appreciate all the work we’ve been doing. Have you offered the Captain one yet?”

“Of course! She was the first one I went to!”

“I’m sure she was.”

“I-again with this? I get you like to tease young guys for fun but don’t you think this is getting old?”

“Not really, because I think it’s true,” the senior pilot answered, eating half his eclair in one bite. “You had a unique kind of drive to join this squadron. I could tell what it was.”

“Sir I’ve told you before it’s not the case. I hold nothing but respect for Miss Gilda.”

“I know you do,” Hook assured him.

He could tell Gene always told the truth, but he also thought the young Griffon did not realize it himself, more out of young naïveté than outright refusal of acceptance. It seemed to be a subconscious feeling, one Gene probably did not notice. For one, in relaxed and unofficial atmospheres, he still often referred to her as ‘miss’ rather than her rank of Captain.

She was the commander of the Boreals, holding the official full Air Force title of Flit-Captain that was rarely used in full, with the second half usually sufficing. Aggressive and sure, if a bit arrogant at times, she fit the role of a fighter naturally. Though her appointment to the commanding role of the Griffon Empire’s top flying unit probably had to do with something more than just that.

“Have you been using my wings like I told you?” Hook questioned.

“Of course, I still prefer flying naturally.”

“Good. We’ve only had jets for a few years and yet it still feels like some Griffons are forgetting that they’re born with wings.”

“I never understood why some of them want to abandon their own flight for the mechanics of an aircraft. It’s ridiculous,” Gene agreed. “They should just be like us and enjoy both.”

“You’re a good pilot, and a good Griffon,” the Senior complemented. “Some just don’t know that you can be both.”

“Flying with wings and flying a jet are two different arts, but they’re both beautiful to me. Most of the ones that don’t like one or the other just end up in the Army anyways.”

“You’ve never heard of one in the Navy?”

“The Navy’s got fine pilots too, but no… not really.”

“You heard the Navy lost a few good pilots trying to kill the last American carrier?”

“Yeah, but they rushed into that fight. They didn’t coordinate and they weren’t ready.”

“We’ll just have to set a better example then,” said Bright Hook as he finished the treat and rolled back onto his hammock. “You will have to set a better example.”

“I always will when I’m with this squadron, Sir.”

Author's Note:

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

Other American ships were already opening fire on her, though her SAMs were intercepting with little trouble. Suddenly, she turned sharply to port before slowing down. Before she could complete the turn, there was a hire explosion in the center of the vessel, with a huge column of water mixing with the fire from the eruption. She stopped and began to settle, breaking in two right in the middle and sinking straight downwards.

What's a "hire explosion"?

[Eagle]

9471416
An inaccurate autocorrect. I do a lot of writing on gdocs on my phone these days and it’ll often autofinish or autocorrect to the wrong word. I meant it to be ‘huge’ and it must have changed it to ‘hire’ for some reason.