The Red Sun Rises: Homefront

by The Atlantean

33. The Second Battle of the North Celestial Sea

The American Nimitz-class aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan sailed into a brisk six-knot wind blowing from the north. Sailing alongside as an escort were the cruisers USS Lake Erie and USS Ticonderoga, the partially repaired destroyer USS John Paul Jones, and every other American surface ship still combat-capable. The nuclear-powered Virginia-class submarine USS Texas was their only underwater escort. Admiral Robinson would've preferred bringing the battleship Pennsylvania as well, but she was too heavily damaged to be anything more than target practice right now.

Robinson walked out of the bridge and onto the port wing overlooking the Flight Deck. Princess Celestia was there on her own volition, not really wanting to file taxes and deal with politics. She sighed and he knew why. The entire deck below them was bristling with Atlantean one-hundred-pound cannons recovered from sunken ships of the line in Manehattan harbor, crewed by the professionals. The elevators down to the Hangar Deck and as many portholes as possible were as well. Reagan had transformed from a carrier to a flat-topped battleship. She still retained some of her original technological edge; the ESSM and Rolling Airframe missiles and the “Sea Whiz” Gatling guns (CIWS) stayed operable. But her main armament now consisted of over five hundred hundred-pounders instead of the three remaining F/A-18 Super Hornets.

“Are you sure it’ll work?” Celestia asked as he approached. “My magic may not hold her together if we do this. After all, it's been mathematically proven: either the chain breaks, or the bow rips off. The stress is too great in the short time force is applied.”

“It worked in Pirates of the Caribbean,” he replied. “Besides, we need the broadside in order to clear a path upriver.”

“You showed me that, so I know what you’re talking about. But this isn’t a brig going six miles per hour. This will be a carrier. Going fifty. We’ll be a sitting duck as soon as it happens. You've said yourself that enemy submarines may still lurk. Turning the ship won't solve everything.”

“No, it won't. But we'll look badass doing it.”

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The escorts were being left in the dust as Reagan surged at ‘ahead flank’ speed. The only one keeping pace was Texas, but only barely. Sailing directly westward now after a northeast direction, Reagan had stayed outside any possible radar nets until she could slip in at top speed, getting in close before the enemy knew they were there.

Robinson saw the mouth of the Crystal Mountains River, clogged with ship after ship, all made of wood and anchored in the bay. He smiled. The vast majority of Sombra’s navy had yet to be cast into the cauldron of battle. “Celestia, cast your spell. XO, sound GQ.”

The Princess of the Sun, in her human form, sat in a chair and closed her eyes. A bright yellow glow came over the carrier for a split second before its color morphed to hide Celestia’s integrity spell. Meanwhile, the XO sounded “General Quarters.” Crewmembers raced to their battle stations and checked in. Robinson heard it over a two-knot wind.

“Bridge, Eng. Ready to answer all bells.” “Ammo checking in. Hauling powder.” “Bridge, CDC. Coordinating with submarine Texas.” And so on.

“I have the Deck and Conn. RO, violate reactor safety and increase shafts to one-twenty percent power. Hard to port.” Robinson called.

“Sir, I’m not sure this is safe in any way,” the RO replied over the comm.

“We did it that one day Celestia showed up. We can do it again.”

“Yes, sir. Reactor shafts spinning one-twenty percent, aye!”

“Hard to port, aye, sir!”

The massive carrier listed by at least thirty degrees to starboard as her rudders dug into the water. Her wake churned when the port screw lashed the surface lightly, then dipped back below. The speed built up as well, bringing Reagan to more than forty knots.

“Rudder amidships,” the admiral called. The list came back down to a perpendicular angle to the water and Robinson walked to the shipwide circuit and talked into it. “All starboard gun crews will fire in volley on my command.” Seeing their angle to the Crystal fleet and their speed, he mentally ran the calculations again. He moved to the starboard bridge wing and stared out to forward, holding a megaphone. “Drop port anchor.”

His bridge crew, surprised as it was with the order, complied immediately. The splash couldn’t be heard over the wind, but Robinson knew the heavy metal was on its way to the bottom, several hundred feet below. A loud thunk reverberated through the ship moments later, signifying that the anchor had indeed hit bottom. Now it had to catch.

Robinson looked at the enemy fleet again. It was much closer now, almost in range of his Flight Deck cannons. Is everyone holding on? Will Celestia’s magic hold? Will this actually work? Hopefully we don’t hit Texas ahead of us, with her crew recording our ship with their cell phones. All these thoughts raced through his head.

He was shaken when the entire carrier suddenly jerked to port and the entire starboard side came above the waves down to the waterline. Then a huge wall of water built up along the raised starboard side, cresting onto the elevators and sloshing into the Hangar Deck. Robinson could feel that he was going sideways instead of forward. Looking to the enemy fleet, he saw that they were almost perpendicular to his ship.

The bow creaked and groaned louder than seventy snoring motorcycles. He feared it would rip right off, but Celestia’s sun-like magic grew in density and held. Cracks appeared in it, the Flight Deck practically ruptured like a volcano, and the stress on the anchor chain came close to simply overcoming the princess’ power, but the ship didn’t tear itself apart. But the emergency diesel engine forward rumbled to life, telling everyone that the reactors had SCRAMed. Robinson took one more look at the Crystal Empire. Holding up his microphone, he noticed that the ship’s motion had practically stopped.

The Gunnery Officer stared through his binoculars. “Let’s drop some lead on those mother-”

“FIRE!” Robinson yelled into the microphone. “Release the anchor chain!”

Reagan shook with the simultaneous firing of two hundred fifty-seven hundred-pound cannons. White smoke obscured their vision, but the Atlantean gunners knew the range and reloaded. Then came another order: “Independent fire!” They fired again whenever they could see the enemy, concentrating multiple guns on a single ship. Meanwhile, the port anchor chain rumbled out and splashed into the sea.

“Gunno, fire the RAM!”

The Gunnery Officer hit a couple buttons on the console in front of him. The Rolling Airframe activated and began launching missiles. They found their targets quickly, sinking ten Crystal Imperial brigs and “battlewagons” in less than five minutes.

Aboard the Crystal Imperial Navy ships, it was a terror of the seven seas unleashed upon them. A massive gray ship drifted and sent hundreds of round metal balls into their helpless vessels. Even now it sent more ponies into the sea with its “flying fire tubes” and “fire-spitters.” The great Navy, built over the last couple years, could do nothing as the ship with a white “76” painted on its single tower lay waste. Moreover, a black tube emerged from the water and bipeds stood on top, watching the spectacle. An occasional flash, green trail, and subsequent exploding Crystal Imperial ship of the line showed that this too was hostile and had plenty of teeth.

Crystal ponies dove overboard and abandoned ship rather quickly. They got the idea after everypony who jumped off before a ship of the line exploded survived and began swimming ashore. The officers tried to stop them, but to no avail. Those who stayed lost their lives in a sudden fire that engulfed the entire ship.

“All engines ahead flank! Hard to starboard!” Robinson ordered. “Sail into those wrecks and get us upriver!”

“Sir, Reactor One has a meltdown! The core shielding ruptured in the maneuver! We’ve lost all power from Reactor Two as well! RO says Two SCRAMed but didn’t initially break. Until Engineering checks over the shielding, we’re on emergency power,” the talker called.

“Tell the RO to fire up Two if there’s no damage. And get Damage Control on One! Let’s refrain from becoming a mushroom cloud, if you don’t mind!”

“Sir, DCA says he’s already on it. He also reports that we have several fires in the Hangar Deck, along with extreme heat and water in the engine room. Steam lines must’ve ruptured.”

“Keep me informed.” Robinson crossed his arms and strode to Celestia, who was sitting the Captain’s chair. “You okay?”

She nodded. Having just released her magic from the carrier, she looked even more worn out than ever. Even swapping the Sun and Moon didn’t do this to her. He helped her gain her feet again.

“We’ll live, right?” she asked. “I heard that about the reactors."

“I got the best DCA and RO in the world. We’ll be fine.” He wrapped his arms around her slim body and held her close. She did the same to his and they stared at the carnage through the dissipating smoke. “I hope, Celestia. I hope.”

Author's Note:

I couldn't help it. Please forgive me. I said I'd take a break.

Also, Pirates of the Caribbean used a brig (or whatever the hell that ship was). Battleship used, well, a battleship: USS Missouri. I felt like topping them both by using a motherfucking carrier armed with cannons.

1 knot = 1.15 mph. I'm pretty sure I did the math right.

Feedback appreciated.

Comments

[Fireheart 1945]

Okay, Sombra's navy lies in ruins. Not looking good for him.