"Confirmed, seventy two bandits, main threat axis zero nine zero, designating Raid one." The Radar officer said as the bomber sized blips appeared on his radar screen.

Jamesson tore his eyes away from the battle plot where all contacts were displayed, the US forces were labeled blue. Hostiles painted in red closed in at all sides in a wide circle. Blue tagged US fighters closed the distance quickly, stealthed F-19s would spearhead the assault and hold off as many as they could while the rest of the planes could scramble, but it wouldn't be enough, if those Tigers were equipped with the newest French air to surface missile-

"Vampire vampire!" the radar officer on the bridge screamed. "Incoming missiles, threat axis confirmed type EXORSET -100."

The Tigers volleyed off their missiles from over a hundred miles out, then turned and hit their after burners to hightail it out of there, Bobcats in hot pursuit. The first Lightnings were scrambling into the air now, but there were far too many planes on the deck. The ships of the US fleet began maneuvering wildly to try to throw off missile locks and not collide with each other at the same time.

"Right full rudder, all ahead flank!" Captain Dale snapped, "Bring us zero nine zero starboard. Mr Tomson," he turned to the man on the weapons console "Unmask missiles and illuminate counterbattery radar, weapons are free!" the ship turned sharply to starboard, it made it impossible for the remaining fighters to launch especially since now they were sailing with the wind but those fighters wouldn't be able to launch with an EXORSET warhead penetrating the hull and snapping the carrier in two either. He wasn't sure what an EXORSET could actually do to his ship but he sure as hell didn't want to find out.

"Numbers Mr. Hoshi, I want numbers on incoming vampires." He snapped at the radar officer .

"Sir, count one hundred forty six incoming missiles, six-" his response was drowned out by the roaring hiss of the carrier's interceptor missiles being fired off. At a hundred and fifty miles, Tomson had triggered off his radar interceptor missile launchers and fired them off. Capable of firing six missiles a minute, each of Lincoln's two launchers selected targets and fired at the incoming missiles. There was a huge problem however.

Abraham Lincoln had a total of twelve missiles on the deck, prioritized to hit the nearest target first. But the system had not been battle tested, and previous tests had only been done against twelve missiles fired from one direction. All twelve had been splashed in the test. But now there were a hundred and forty six incomings coming from all around the ship. And after all twelve missiles were spent it would be at least ten minutes to reload all twelve tubes. One by one incoming missile were shot down as the rest of the fleet activated their countermeasures but there were too many and there were too spread out for every missile to engage them. The F/A 35s were doing their best but they would have at best a second to acquire a target passing around them at Mach 6, they would be lucky to even snap a missile off. Plus they had to deal with the fighters.

At twenty five miles, ships began shooting off their countermeasures,R-BOC canister flares and chaff tubes rocketed high in the air attempting to divert the target as radar officers on all ships shut off their search radars. Ten miles, frigates and destroyers opened up with their five inch guns loaded with flak, missiles were falling off the display but too slowly, far too slowly there were at least sixty missiles streaking towards the fleet. The last line of defense activated five miles out, anti-air twenty millimeter rotary cannons burped to life red tracers streaking out in the distance.

"Hard to port!" Dale shouted at the helmsmen "Left full rudder, all ahead one third."

"Negative Negative!" the flight controller shouted, Dale turned "you do not have permission to launch, say again you do not have permission to launch!"

Two F-35s fully loaded attempted a vertical takeoff to clear up the deck. The ship lurched and the vertical liftoff caused the fighters to drift dangerously close to the bridge tower but they managed to turn away and avoid a collision. The pair of fighters jetted off searching for targets.

This European attack had thrown the US fleet off balance, surprise and speed were with them. Dale was in command of one of the biggest most well protected ships in the fleet, how were the other ships doing? How were the defenseless merchantmen ferrying the landing troops coping?

Colonel Alicia Diaz scrambled her troops of the 12th tactical Joint Strike Force battalion onto the deck. All hell was breaking loose in the fleet, and here she was on the most vulnerable ship in the entire damn thing!

"Get those eagles into the air!" she barked over the command channel as her Blackfoot gunship squadrons began spooling up their blades. The Valkyrie's, VTOL aircraft descendant from the old Osprey were much slower and took longer to spool up. Her Ghosts and Pioneers were suiting up now, many of them without helmets as they hurried to be loaded onto their craft.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, usually there would be JSF Amphibious unit task force carriers at her disposal, but they were being used to ferry the other six JSF battalions, leaving another three spread out across nine defenseless merchantmen.

"What's going on here?" she shouted at her Major who was similarly suited up minus helmet, her sharp eyes "sniper eyes" were old, she suddenly noticed that none of the pioneers had their computers or Javelin missile launchers either. "Why aren't you all suited up?"

"Shits broken Ma'am!" the Major Hikowa her second in command shouted back. "They've got water damage and some of the stuff fused. Circuitry's ruined, it'll take a couple hours to dry if they even can!"

"That doesn't make sense!" Diaz screamed over the roar of the ocean and her first gunships lifting off. "Our equipment is waterproofed, surely they've tested that properly!"

"They didn't expect our shit to get wet with salt water!" Hikowa retorted "we have one WIA below deck, his helmet sparked when he put it on!"

Goddamn. Nothing was working right, the merchant ship that crewed her battalion was lurching violently left and right to shake a missile lock, the thing hadn't any chaff or countermeasures and her battalion was left up to the mercy of a captain who couldn't defend himself against a new EXORSET. Worse come to worse, most of her men and women would be able to get off alive, secured on Valkyries but her Schwartzkopf tanks and Fastback IFVs were still stuck below deck, the hovercraft that was supposed to deploy them hadn't had enough time to spool up and warm its engines and before it would even be ready those missiles would hit. She had to do something, she was used to taking action.

A former sniper on Ghost Recon's Team Alpha she'd pounded it out with Captain Scott Mitchell (now general) and then managed to elevate her career to a Lt. Colonel in charge of her own battalion of three hundred proud soldiers.

Her aggressive combat tactics earned her the praise of her former and current commanding officer Mitchell and the 12th was one of the finest the JSF could call on. But now she was helpless, and she wasn't used to being helpless. Her mind raced for an option, her Javelin's were out of commission, fantasy would have it that maybe enterprising snipers (the finest in the JSF she was sure, though that was probably her former sniper's ego speaking) would be able to shoot down the missiles with their high powered rifles before they hit? No that was for the movies.

She watched a passing frigate, the USS Davy Crockett, unleash another missile off into the blue. If only her Javelin's were working she might be able to hit, but something nagged her in the back of her mind, something she had forgotten. It was back in her days as a Ghost Recon operative, where her squadmates often preferred the newer toys the US military could offer, she was used to older weapons.

Her comrades in Ghost Recon loved using the MR-C gun camera mount to shoot around corners. She had handcrafted her SRC-2100, widening the barrel to fire a .50 caliber Remington at such a velocity she could hit targets up to a mile off and have the bullet pass through without considerably slowing down. She remembered that weapon well, it was old fashioned but she loved it, from its ugly black Kevlar finish she polished till she could see her own reflection in it , to the 6x/12x zoom night vision hunting scope she would snap onto the rail integration attatchment, to the two and a half pound trigger which would send her messenger of death with but a twitch. That rifle was still stowed away in her house in Norfolk Virginia. That was how she had fought wars back then, a traditionalist in the world of growing technology and electronics.

Old? this merchant vessel had deployed during the Iran-Saudi crisis less than ten years ago and the captain still kept some of the wars toys below decks just by the bridge tower, he'd taken it on himself to show Diaz earlier. The "armory" he called it as he showed her the arsenal of AT-4 TOW missiles and HK416s, and M40 sniper rifles and Stinger AA missile launchers-

Stingers?

"Major!" she gestured thrusted her finger in the direction of the ships armory "Remember the armory? Its got old stinger missile launchers and ammunition, grab what you can and get every man on the deck, we're going to shoot those missiles down!"

"Sir!" Hikowa nodded and signaled for the mustering ghosts to go and grab the missiles. The problem would be actually getting a lock on the missiles. They'd be coming in low, and fast crossing mile length areas in less than a second, would the stingers be able to acquire?

Diaz's ghosts rushed onto the deck with over a dozen stinger missiles and enough spare ammunition for one more volley. She hefted one herself feeling her old bones give way slightly under the weight. It had been a long time since she had personally participated in any action. It brought back the years that she thought had wasted away while she was chained to the desk of command. Something shined in the distance, just over the horizon.

"There!" Hikowa shouted and pointed at the sparkling star. There were at least six of them. Diaz flipped down the glass sights for the missile launcher and reverted to her training. She steadied her aim by slowing her breath down. She had to compensate for the way the deck leaned with every turn of the ship and the rocking of the waves. Her stinger began piping a lock tone which soon became constant. She triggered off her missile, the force of the jet nearly knocking her backwards. Twelve missiles sped off into the blue, targeting the not so far off incomings. The Davy Crockett crossed Diaz's line of sight again, its five inch gun blazing as it pumped out its flak rounds.

It had been going so smoothly until those Sentinels had appeared, and they were too close to the fleet. The combat flight patrol had missed them, or they hadn't reported back in. Who fucked up? Captain Brown slipped his hands over the edges of the viewports of the bridge as if he could reach out and control the chaos that had consumed the fleet. The steady retort of the his frigates 5 inch cannon mixed with the firing of yet another R-BOC canister throwing metallic foil into the air where it sailed like confetti pitifully into the water.

USS Davy Crockett had a 40 year history of service in the Fleet, and Brown had been captaining her for a good six years now. The frigate had one of the most important jobs, defending the carriers against incoming threats like the hundred and forty six missiles coming towards them right now. The radio bands were filled with panicked chatter as captains reported their movements to the flag, USS Abraham Lincoln. It was absolute chaos on the orderly bridge too. Although he had been captaining the ship for six years, all of his veterans had been transferred to other commands, some of them even promoted. These seamen were new, fresh out of training and their greenness was getting to him. They didn't respond as smoothly to his commands, just lacked that…emphasis that a veteran crew had.

"How many missiles are locked onto us Mr. Garcia?"

"Sir I count six incoming missiles locked on and homing! Prioritizing fire sir but they're too close to hit with flak!"

Brown winced, it only took one EXORSET to ruin your entire day. And his maneuvering didn't have much chance of shaking 6 missiles. Almost as soon as he was about to give another order Garcia gave a shout.

"Splash one splash two! Two missiles down!"

"Good shooting!" agreed Lieutenant Raken, Brown's executive officer.

There were still four incoming. And they were now within distance so Brown could see the missiles, bright specks in the distance.

"Sound the collision." Brown said which was repeated by Raken to the radio officer who then sounded the signal over the ship's intercom.

"Brace Brace Brace!", the crew scrambled to latch themselves onto any part of the ship to prevent themselves from being thrown against metal bolts during the violence of an explosion.

"Way to go Joint Strike Force!" Garcia suddenly shouted, Brown turned to see the trails of six missiles tear off to leave the merchant ship they had just past alongside, in a staggered salvo six more were volleyed off. Two flashes in the distance.

"Splash two more!"

Two missiles left. "Time to impact?"

"thirty seconds and counting!" Garcia said, it was a tense fifteen seconds of only the distant pounding of guns and shriek of missiles before Brown gave his order.

"Hard to starboard, Right full rudder, all engines reverse! Fire an R-BOC!"

The bridge crew raced to command, the helmsman hit the reverse on his throttle throwing the switch as far back as it would go, Garcia on weapons control fired their sixth and final R-BOC countermeasure canister and the Davy Crocket turned into the missiles and began churning back in her baffles. Brown whispered a quick prayer for this to work.

The roaring wail of two EXORSETs flying low over the bridge was soon drowned out as one turned high and spun out, diverted by the canister, the second collided into the water throwing five hundred gallons high into the air with the resulting explosion.

Five seconds of silence in the bridge crew, then one by one cheers rang out all across the Davy Crockett. They'd survived their first attack without a scratch and the relief and adrenaline rush was flooding back to them. Brown wiped sweat off his brow and smiled easily, he could get through this, the US could win the war.

"Damage reports on the fleet, Mr. Raken?"

"Sir, it looks like-

Another shipmate interrupted and cried out an incoming warning. She was the antisubmarine warfare officer.