The Red Sun Rises: Homefront

by The Atlantean

24. The Battle of the North Celestial Sea

A certain pale-white human stood on Vulture’s Row overlooking the Flight Deck on the American aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan. Her flowing multicolored hair was held to aft by a thirty-knot wind blowing from dead ahead. The simple T-shirt she wore was soaked in sweat, but she didn’t seem to mind the oppressive heat. Being the Princess of the Sun, she had no concern for the amount of heat delivered. As she watched, the first fighters of Reagan’s remaining air wing, led by the excellent pilots with the callsigns Railgun and Artemis, took to the sky. Out of the original ninety F/A-18 Super Hornets aboard the massive vessel, only three had survived the long voyage to the Dominion and back.

Only a few hundred miles from Manehattan, the weary Reagan Task Force, augmented with a few Atlantic Fleet ships, were getting the blips through static that meant the long-lost Ticonderoga and her small fleet was close. They just had to know where, giving the Super Hornets the mission that was probably their last. Loaded with as much fuel as they could, the jets were armed with air-to-air missiles, just in case, and the fuel storage aboard Reagan was out. The fighters were to fly over Manehattan, receive messages from Ticonderoga, then come home.

Admiral James Robinson of the United States Navy walked out to her, carrying an umbrella. He’d had it on the Bridge so he could go outside in the rain, but the sun gave him reason enough to use it. “It’s kinda sad to see them go. Railgun, Artemis, and everyone else - they saved us more times than we can count. Everyone in the original strike group deserves a promotion at minimum. And even though you showed up like a stowaway, you deserve one too.”

“Thanks, James. But I can’t go to your world. My place is here in Equestria.” Celestia replied.

Amber Hamilton, the carrier’s Air Boss and CAG, relayed a message from the fighters to the talker, who called Robinson back in. Celestia followed.

“Sir, Four-Alpha-One reports many sailing ships bearing two five zero, range twenty miles. Neither the Atlantean nor Dominion flag is present. It’s a dark grey with a solid black in the shape of a crystal, surrounded by a purplish aura.”

Celestia perked up. “I’ve seen something like that before. That aura is shadow magic.” She turned to Robinson. “This is the navy of King Sombra’s Crystal Empire.”

Robinson looked back at her. She nodded grimly, and he turned to look out to the horizon, where the wooden ships supposedly were sailing. “Sound general quarters. Prepare for surface action starboard. Give Captain Ross aboard Pennsylvania authorization to fire as soon as the enemy is in range. And we should recall the fighters. I have the Conn and the Deck.”

“Aye, sir. You have the Conn. I retain the Deck.”

Amber already knew what he had in mind. If the fighters were lost, they would lose a full third of their remaining airpower. She recalled the jets and assumed her position as Air Boss when the Super Hornets glided in, their glowing exhaust trimmed down to minimum. Within five minutes, Reagan’s three fighters landed and were stowed on the Flight Deck.

The WWII battleship USS Pennsylvania, normally the slowest ship because of her tall masts used for primary propulsion, surged ahead. The old ship’s fuel had dropped to nearly nothing over the course of the long voyage, but couldn’t be refueled at her typical pier in Nautinia because a rift tore the storage tanks wide open. Since then, she relied on the wind, tacking when necessary to keep up.

Her wooden masts had been installed when she first arrived in Equestria six years ago. They were a marvel of engineering merges, putting secure places for rigging on slick steel surfaces. She also had a contingent of Marines aboard that could be deployed using “Amphib dinghies” that were stowed in the ship’s bow. During the Battle of Stormwater Cove, the Atlantean addition to the battleship allowed her bow to swing down and deploy the troops, capturing the island and preventing more loss than already sustained.

The old battleship had proven her worth many times over. But she continued to amaze the modern U.S. Navy with her four massive fourteen-inch three-barrel turrets. With a secondary complement of fourteen five-inch turrets and twelve five-inch anti-aircraft guns, she was practically unstoppable by the ships she normally took on.

Currently, her two forward fourteens rotated to a 45-degree angle off the starboard bow. Her spinning radar array and tripod communications mast tilted to starboard as Captain Ross ordered “hard to port.” Then it came. With a massive booooom, the two turrets opened fire. Six high-explosive shells shot from her flaming guns and disappeared over the horizon.

Huge geysers of seawater rose over the tall masts of the Crystal Empire’s ships of the line. One ship was unlucky enough to be hit, and its magazine erupted in a roar and shower of debris no cannon could hope to match. The ship quickly slipped beneath the choppy waves, never to be seen again. After a lengthy reload, Pennsylvania sent three more to a watery grave in rapid succession.

Ross switched to five-inch rounds to conserve his fourteens’ ammunition. With a shorter range, he had to wait for the Crystal Empire to come to him. But they instead changed course to Manehattan. Robinson saw a chance to hit them and took it.

“All ships, go to ahead flank, bearing two eight five! Ready weapons and prepare to repel possible boarders!” Turning to Celestia, he said, “Go ahead. Celestia has the Helm. I retain the Conn and the Deck.”

The XO nodded. “Aye, sir. Princess Celestia has the Helm. You retain the Conn. I retain the Deck.”

The tired American ships lept forward from their comfortable “ahead one-third.” In the center of the group, shadowed by Reagan, the fuel tankers struggled to keep up, as did the rest of the fleet. The carrier was leaving everyone else in the dust as her screws bit into the water.

“Sir, Sonar reports submarines bearing zero zero zero! Correlates to Yuan class!”

“All engines full astern! Get us in the escort!”

The massive carrier shuddered as her screws stopped and spun in the opposite direction, slowly bringing Reagan to a halt. As soon as the escort ships were around the carrier again, she returned to “ahead two-thirds,” sending her wide wake through the water again. The escort fired torpedoes at the unforeseen submarine.

“Sir, Klakring reports torpedoes in the water! Is evading!”

Of course there’s torpe - Oh SHIT! “All engines ahead flank! Send, ‘Am evading!’ Helm, set course three six zero!”

The American fleet went into instant disarray. Some ships turned to avoid the Chinese torpedoes going directly at them. Others turned away, while others still held their course, placing themselves between the enemy and the tankers.

Klakring was nearly hit by a Chinese Yu-6 heavyweight torpedo zipping straight for the bow. Her captain’s quick thinking prevented the bow from being snapped off by slowing the frigate a tad, then continuing at “ahead flank.”

Reagan switched to her original course, going right by another Yu-6, her anxious crew looking over the side. It missed by less than three hundred yards. Robinson breathed a sigh of relief, then remembered something. The Yu-6 is a wake homer when fired in surface mode!

“Engineering, give me the RO!”

A few precious seconds passed. “RO.”

“Override reactor protection and increase to one hundred twenty percent power. I need all the speed I can get!”

“Yes, Captain!”

Below Robinson’s feet, the carrier sped up, knot by knot. Looking aft from the starboard bridge wing, he saw that the Yu-6 had indeed changed course to follow Reagan in her wake.

“Sir, impact in two minutes!”

“Helm, hard to starboard!”

Celestia spun the wheel. Below the waves, Reagan’s rudder shifted as far to the right as it could. The ship heeled to port by at least thirty degrees as she turned hard at a speed never before even considered remotely sane. As she wheeled around, Robinson saw the chaos his proud fleet now was. Ships evaded torpedoes, fired their own, and tried to focus their topside weapons on the approaching Crystal Empire ships. The only one capable of doing so, however, seemed to be Pennsylvania, every gun she had trained on the enemy fleet, oblivious to a Yu-6 coming up on her wake.

“Send to Pennsylvania: Evade torpedo! It’s right behind you!”

The Radioman nodded and spoke into the other end. On the battleship, his counterpart asked what the hell he meant.

“It’s a wake homer! Turn the ship on its own wake and try to confuse it!”

Captain Ross received the message and broke off his attack. “I have the Conn and Deck! Hard to port!”

Slowly, the old ship turned and crossed its own wake. At the same time, Robinson went back to saving his own ship. The Yu-6 hadn’t been fooled by his trick. It must still be wire-guided. Damn! He looked for an opportunity.

“There! Has Briscoe’s captain abandoned ship?”

“Yes, sir. She’s a sitting duck.”

“Make for her! I have the Helm!”

Celestia stood aside for Robinson. He took the wheel and angled the carrier towards the ancient, disabled Atlantic Fleet destroyer. He mentally ran the angles in his head and picked just the perfect course. “Everybody hold on!”

“Impact in one minute!”

Celestia saw his plan. “Are you insane?”

“Not if you like staying high and dry!”

Reagan came closer to the destroyer. The two ships collided, the carrier’s port side screeching along Briscoe’s bow. Celestia was nearly thrown to the bulkhead when a slight angle knocked her off balance. Luckily, she grabbed on to Robinson’s uniform. Then the screech of steel on steel ended, Briscoe being swallowed in Reagan’s wake. The Yu-6 locked onto the closer ship, sending a plume of water higher than Briscoe’s tallest mast. She rocked from the impact, her stern being completely ripped from the rest of her hull. She sunk in a matter of minutes.

The submarines USS Omaha and USS Scorpion sailed to the rescue. Once they had a lock on the Chinese subs, they launched their beautiful modified MK 48 torpedoes and sunk them.

With the danger gone for now, Robinson looked at his fleet. Most of the ships had survived, surprisingly. Most of the Chinese torpedoes had been targeted by the destroyers and cruisers, taking them out before they did much damage. The main exception was Briscoe, of course, but she’d merely been scraped by a Chinese submarine and her ancient hull popped open. Her captain ordered the “abandon ship,” and Robinson used her wallowing hull as a redirect, therefore saving Reagan.

“Sir, Pennsylvania reports heavy damage! They were hit by the torp. It wasn’t fooled by their fancy sailing,” the talker said.

“Understood. Ask if they can still sail. We need her!”

“Captain Ross says he can sail. The flooding is under control, but the torp took a big damn chunk outta his ship.”

“Good. Order all ships to make for Manehattan. We’ll have to slow down for Pennsylvania. All she has now is those ridiculous sails.”

“Yes, sir.”

Robinson walked out onto Vulture’s Row, where Celestia stood again. The two looked out to the west, watching the horizon for more ships. The five-inch guns spread throughout the fleet pounded the Crystal Empire’s forces, sinking the enemy ships one by one. Rescue helicopters were coming in to land with a load of survivors from Briscoe.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. Celestia raised her hands to the sky, and lowered the sun. Once she got it moving, she stopped and watched it set ahead of her. The two took the other’s hand as the sun went down over the horizon, its warm, orange rays turning pink, then red, then blue as the world came to night. It was a beautiful sight.

Amber, above them, looked down. About damn time, she thought.

Author's Note:

USS Briscoe was decommisioned in 2003 (in our world). The reason I chose her is because my mother was the Gunno (gun officer) aboard her for a time. Briscoe's valiant service will not be forgotten.

I'm not sure if this story has earned the "Sad" tag. Tell me if it does! But I don't think so... yet.

While writing this chapter, I looked at Voyages to find what ships were still in the task force. I realized that I had two Captain Reynolds"es": the one on Ticonderoga, and another in charge of the submarine USS Annapolis. Annapolis, along with two other Atlantic Fleet submarines, are currently with Reagan. I believe they were screening to port and ahead, therefore not participating in the battle.

If there's any grammatical errors, PM me about them. Even though I'm a Grammar Nazi, I still find ones that I missed every so often.

If you so desire to know, a prequel story is being worked on.

Feedback appreciated!

Comments

[Fireheart 1945]

I still find ones that I missed every so often.

I find this annoyingly often (and sometimes got told by readers) when I go to edit previous chapters for mistakes

I wouldn't worry about it... too much. It happens to everyone. Not a bad chapter

[The Atlantean]

7862634 You won't believe how tempted I was to sink the carrier and kill Celestia. That close.