Execution

Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean; Friday, July 4th, 2008, 7:27 A.M.…

Time had become all but nonexistent for the crew and passengers of the aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan. The trip had been long and demanding, the occupants all fully aware that this was a trip with no clear destination in sight. No destination…only an objective.

There were several significant leads every now and then, but never an indication that the machine was nearby. They knew that they were taking a great risk. A risk that quite literally had the two most vastly opposite ends any possible risk could offer: They succeeded, and the world would be saved from the terror that had been ravaging it relentlessly for 6 months. They failed…and certain death would envelop all of them, and the machine would continue rampaging across the free world unopposed.

It was a very solemn trip indeed. Often very quiet. No conversations. No music. Just pondering among themselves. Other than the necessary commands and communications between the captain and the crew, there was nothing.

Thus, it took a few moments for the knock on his cabin door to register, snapping the President of the United States out of his trance. He slowly stood up and strode over to the door, opening it slowly.

The sailor stood at attention and rendered the salute, but the exhausted Bush waved it away with an "As you were."

"Sir, the captain requests your presence in the bridge immediately, sir."

"Alright, alright."

Pulling on his heavy jacket, Bush followed the sailor down the hall, turning corners and ascending stairs until, finally, they had arrived in the bridge, where the familiar figure of the captain was waiting.

"Yes, Captain Norton?" Bush asked after the usual salute.

"Sir. It's upon us."

The seriousness with which the four words were conveyed, coupled with the almost dead gaze in the captain's eyes, were enough to instantly snap the President back into the present, with the long-dreaded and long-awaited feeling of this news finally being correct after several false alarms.

"You're quite certain?"

"Please follow me, sir."

Captain Norton then walked out of the bridge onto the balcony just outside, the President and the sailor who escorted him following close behind.

The Captain gestured to a telescope that was perched on the ledge, aiming directly behind and to the right of the carrier, pointing almost directly to the north.

"Please be careful not to adjust it, or you just might lose sight of it."

The President knelt down ever so slightly and peered through the telescope.

After a moment of adjusting his eyes, he could just barely see it. The small dot hovering high up in the air at a significant distance behind them, but undoubtedly pursuing them. After a few more seconds of focusing, he could clearly make out the two large, horrifying yellow eyes. It was a sight that he was fairly familiar with, through the various blurry photographs and video stills taken by survivors or witnesses, but in this moment, seeing the monstrosity in person…was a completely different experience altogether. Knowing that it was there, physically, approaching, and knowing…that it was coming straight for him.

With a solemn stare, he slowly straightened up behind the telescope.

"They've found us." He muttered.

"And with the best of timing." The captain added. "The equator is approximately 7 ½ nautical miles away at this speed."

It seems to be working…all the pieces fitting into place. He thought. God, please let it work.

"Sir?" The captain asked from behind. "Your orders?"

After another long, dreadful pause, he slowly turned to face the captain.

"Tell the pilots to get to their aircraft."

"Proceed at full speed." The Colonel ordered.

"Yes, sir." The two other technicians responded simultaneously.

"Colonel, I must remind you that we are taking an awful risk." Johansen added. "We may have finally managed to track them, but it is just as I feared; they are nearing the equator. It's approximately 10 miles away from our current position, and they have the lead. If we do manage to get within range, it will be very, very close…"

"But attempting to cut them off in a straight south-then-eastern direction will take even longer. Isn't that what you just said?" Carr replied.

"Yes, sir, but…"

"NO BUTS!" Carr suddenly cut off. "We MUST destroy them. Just tell me that you can get us in range before they cross the equator."

"I believe so…and even then, if they do cross the equator…we still have a chance to get within range and fire on them before we cross it."

"Good. Then do it." Carr ordered once more. "I shall retreat to my quarters once more. Call me back in here if there is an update worthy of my attention."

"Yes, sir." Johansen replied, ending the conversation.

As Carr left the control room and headed towards his newly-designated quarters, a wry smile spread across his face. True, they were taking a very dire risk indeed. But it was a risk well worth taking. Not only would they destroy the last remaining, organized leaders of the free world, but he would finally start to prove himself to the Commander and the Master. He had to prove that he was a worthy commanding officer. After all, he was the only one left aboard the entire Death Ray.

Perhaps there was a reason for that?

Although the 10 pilots had been well-trained to handle almost any kind of aerial situation imaginable, they had never been quite prepared for something like this. Nevertheless, they continued with their suiting-up and final preparations of their respective aircraft, heading out as if this was just another routine training exercise, driven by determination, revenge, and patriotism.

The core members of the presidential cabinet had gathered in the carrier's war room, surrounded by transparent readouts with glowing lines across them, as well as numerous monitors and technicians already rapidly communicating with each and every single one of the pilots.

They sat around the large, single table – administration chiefs in regular business attire next to highly-decorated officers. Vice President Cheney, Secretary Gates, Secretary Rice, Advisor Rove, and others.

The various commands and announcements were made as, one-by-one, the 10 jets all took off from the runway, circling around the aircraft until all were airborne. They then formed into a triangular formation with five at the very back, then three more ahead of them, and then two more at the head of the horizontal pyramid.

"All fighters, report in." The radio operator instructed.

"Atlantis, standing by."

"Bigfoot, standing by."

"Drummer, standing by."

"Geronimo, standing by."

"Operator, standing by."

"Rawhide, standing by."

"Skywalker, standing by."

"Two-Face, standing by."

"Wisconsin, standing by."

"Zebra, standing by."

Once all 10 pilots had reported in in alphabetical order with their codenames, their commander took over the radio frequency and began issuing commands.

"Now remember, your first priority is to defend The Giver."

"Copy that, sir." Several pilots replied.

"Stay clear of their gunners. Maintain an altitude that is equal or above its head and shoulders. They have already sacrificed most of their own fighters in the Battle of Paris, so an offensive opposition is all but out of the question. But nevertheless, remain as cautious as possible."

Several more pilots responded in the affirmative, and their commander resumed.

"Geronimo and Wisconsin, take charge."

"Yes, sir."

The 10 jets approached the massive machine, the distance decreasing and the size of the monstrosity increasing with every second.

"Sir, we've got company!" One of the technicians reported.

Johansen quickly strode over to the radar screen, where a triangular shape of 10 moving dots all began converging on their position.

"They're trying to attack us…with only 10 fighter jets!" The technician exclaimed.

"Yes, I can see that." Johansen replied.

It seemed almost too easy. Too good to be true. Only 10 jets? They would be destroyed easily. He could give the next command without Carr's consent, as he would more than likely be bothered with a request to give such an obvious command.

Johansen himself leaned over the PA controls and cleared his throat before activating it.

"Attention, all personnel. This is Lead Technician Arnold Johansen. I want all available gunners to their stations immediately. Repeat: All gunners to battle stations, immediately. We have 10 aircraft approaching from the southeast."

As he stepped back from the microphone, one of his subordinates leaned back from his chair to give the next update.

"ETA to target, 7 minutes."

"Remember, boys! Stay out of range of their gunner stations!"

As they drew even closer, within several hundred feet, it was now towering above them.

"My God, it's massive!" Zebra exclaimed.

"This is it!" Two-Face shouted.

No sooner than they began moving straight up towards the top of the machine did the dozens of machine guns in the vicinity, already armed and in firing position, began opening fire.

"Watch it, their range on those things is greater than we thought!" Geronimo shouted.

"I'm hit! AH!"

Then, before anything else could be said either by or to the Zebra pilot, his aircraft instantly exploded, debris flying in all directions and scattering the rear-right portion of their formation.

"Spread out!" Geronimo ordered. "Two groups, two groups! Wisconsin, take your side and I'll take mine!"

And with that, the group quickly split off into two halves. Geronimo led Skywalker, Bigfoot, Operator, and Rawhide, while Wisconsin led Drummer, Two-Face, and Atlantis.

The two groups split apart and continued moving at a much steeper upward angle, still avoiding most of the gunfire.

"I'm gonna try to retaliate!" Geronimo declared.

He then took brief aim while he was still at a slanted angle, with some of the machine guns of the left leg still in his line of sight.

He quickly deployed two missiles.

"Box 1, Box 2, away!"

The two missiles, deployed within seconds of each other, struck the leg in a nicely-timed pattern. The second one struck about three levels higher than the first, and both struck the immediate vicinity of two occupied gunner stations. The blasts were enough to knock both gunners out of their seats, and several others immediately above and immediately below the impact zones instinctively dove for cover.

"Nice shots there, Geronimo!"

"Thanks, Operator!"

But just then, the brief emergency alarm went off in one of the cockpits.

"I've got a missile locked onto me!"

At the last moment, Two-Face's aircraft veered to the left, distancing himself from Wisconsin, Drummer, and Atlantis, moments before the missile struck and destroyed the jet in a fiery explosion.

"Alright, hang on!"

And with that, Atlantis took brief aim with her gun and began unloading the rounds onto the nearest missile stations. Once again, the impact of hundreds of rounds on top of each other jarred several of the operators from their seats.

"We're nearing the shoulders, hang tight! We'll regroup behind the head!" Geronimo ordered.

"Sir, they're moving out of range of the gunner stations." One technician reported again.

"Confound it!"

After hearing Johansen's announcement ordering the gunners to their stations, Carr had returned to the control room to monitor the situation himself. Not so much out of concern, necessarily, but for his own amusement.

"Just as I suspected." He muttered. "Time to send out our last remaining aircraft."

"But sir, we've only had time for minimal training for the new interim pilots…" Johansen started.

"I. Don't. CARE!" Carr shot back. "The sooner we destroy them, the better. Besides, at the rate we're taking them down – with two already gone – this should be easy enough to qualify as practice for the crews."

And before Johansen could say anything else, Carr leaned over the PA system.

"Attention, all personnel! This is Colonel Carr! All interim blimp crews, report to your respective aircraft immediately. Once all seven crews are in place, prepare for immediate takeoff to counter this threat."

Carr just knew that the decision to train the new pilots would pay off someday. Although seven aircraft was still smaller than the enemy group, and, of course, less than a fraction of the previous army, it would have to do.

Geronimo and his four followers had reached the highest hangar on the left shoulder, and were now moving around behind it. In the distance, quickly approaching the back of the head just as they were, were Wisconsin, Atlantis, and Drummer.

"Alright, regroup!" Geronimo ordered. "Wisconsin, fall in behind-."

A sudden series of rapid beeping on the radar silenced him, drawing the attention of all 8 remaining pilots.

"Sir, we've got 7 new bogeys!" Skywalker declared. "Coming in at 4 'o clock!"

"I've got a visual!" Wisconsin announced. He and the two other pilots behind him, facing the direction of the left shoulder, could already see the enemies approaching in an arrow shape. Three aircraft all diagonally aligned on each side, with a single aircraft at the head of the arrow. The two blimps at the very back of the formation were heavily armored, while the other five were covered in a regular tan canvas covering.

"Watch it, boys!" Geronimo called out. "They're behind us! Circle around, circle around!"

Geronimo, Skywalker, Bigfoot, and Operator all quickly began doing a sharp 180-turn. However, before Rawhide could even react, a missile was fired from one of the blimps and struck his aircraft, destroying it in a ball of fire.

"Return fire!"

Geronimo, Skywalker, Wisconsin, and Atlantis were the first to comply almost immediately, unleashing thousands of rounds and several more missiles on the approaching triangle. One of Geronimo's missiles easily found its target and destroyed one of the blimps, while Operator's rapid-fire took out one of the two armored blimps. The remaining five quickly scattered, flying off in all directions and evading the rest of the attacks.

"New group! Wisconsin, Atlantis, and Operator, divert and attempt to deliver The Giver! Everyone else, with me on offense!"

"Roger that, Geronimo."

Just then, one of the blimps circled around and appeared quite suddenly from above the head of the Death Ray, unleashing another devastating round of machine-gun fire.

"He's on me! 9 'o cl-."

But Operator's attempted warning was cut off by the following explosion. No sooner did the flames begin to dissipate before the blimp that shot down Operator soared straight through the cloud, locking onto another jet.

"Geronimo, watch out! He's on you!" Atlantis exclaimed.

Geronimo looked around frantically, unable to get a visual confirmation on the blimp even though it clearly showed up on his radar.

"Argh! I can't see him!"

"Hang on, I'll be right there!" She responded.

Atlantis closed in on the blimp that was following Geronimo in a steady line. Though Geronimo was zig-zagging back and forth, the blimp remained firmly on his tail.

Atlantis steadied the target lock system, waiting for a decent shot…

The blimp began unleashing another round of machine gun fire.

Atlantis's system locked onto the blimp's heat signal, and Atlantis quickly pressed the button.

The missile deployed and soared straight at its target, catching it from behind and destroying it instantly.

Geronimo sighed. "Thanks, Atlantis."

In the control room of the Death Ray, Carr and Johansen were looming behind the technician who was acting as the radio operator, listening in eager anticipation.

"Copy that, Avenger 3, we've just lost Avenger 5."

"Roger." Avenger 1 responded. "Avengers 3 and 4, come with me. Go for the one that Avenger 5 was targeting. Avenger 7, fall back and maintain a general altitude with the spire. That's where several of the others are heading."

"Yes, sir." The pilot of Avenger 7 – the last remaining armored blimp – replied.

As the orders flew back and forth between the blimps, Carr turned to the other seated technician.

"ETA to target?" The Colonel asked.

"Five minutes, sir." He replied.

"I've got one in my sights!" Bigfoot shouted, attempting to lock onto the armored blimp as it rose higher and higher, towards the top of the massive spire. He flew over the head of the Death Ray from behind, closing in on his target.

"Watch it, Big, you've got one on your tail!"

"Huh?" Panicking, Bigfoot veered to the right.

Skywalker soared in from the right, preparing to take aim with his guns at the regular blimp that was pursuing Bigfoot.

"Just hang in there, two more seconds…"

"Skywalker, watch out!"

But before Skywalker could even react to Wisconsin's warning, the shots rang out, and the rounds tore through the cockpit, the engine, and one of the wings.

Skywalker screamed in horror as, even in the midst of being shot, he tried to maintain some form of control. In his panic, he veered off to the right, diverging away from the blimp he had been pursuing, heading straight for another aircraft.

"Bigfoot! PULL UP!" Wisconsin shouted.

"WHA-DAWUGH!"

And then, to the complete horror of the other four pilots, Skywalker's damaged jet crashed head-on into Bigfoot's jet as it was veering to the right in an attempt to escape. Both jets exploded and disappeared in one large, collective fireball.

"Alright, survivors regroup!" Geronimo demanded. "Rendezvous at the top of the spire!"

"Roger that, two more of the enemy aircraft have just been destroyed." Avenger 1 proudly declared. "Avengers 3 and 4, take up a flanking position just ahead of me. Avenger 7, fall in directly behind me."

"Roger that."

"Alright. We've got one final shot at this. Wisconsin and Drummer, you two close in on the spire to deliver The Giver. Atlantis, come with me. We'll try to distract those fighters long enough for the delivery to be executed."

"Copy that." Wisconsin replied.

"Let's get these bastards." Atlantis coldly declared.

With that, the two designated offensive aircraft split off and circled around the area, watching as the four remaining blimps regrouped, beginning to fly up towards the top of the spire.

"Alright, move in!"

The two jets, side-by-side, soared straight towards the group of blimps, with Geronimo opening fire with the machine gun while Atlantis deployed another missile. Though most of Geronimo's shots went wide, the missile was locked on and destroyed the final remaining armored blimp.

"Avenger 7 is down!" Avenger 3 reported.

"Avenger 3, circle back and get them off my tail! Avenger 4, stay where you are!"

One of the two blimps from the front row peeled off from the formation and quickly began to circle around.

"Watch it, here comes another!" Geronimo warned.

"I'll get him!"

The blimp began opening fire with one of the machine guns. Atlantis turned her aircraft slightly enough to the left so that she too was aiming directly at the enemy, and she squeezed the trigger.

Both aircraft fired their rounds directly at each other, and what happened next was nearly one-in-a-million.

At first, the sight of the explosion had Geronimo shouting another congratulations to Atlantis. But his response was cut off when he realized that it was not one, but two explosions.

Both the enemy blimp and Atlantis's aircraft had exploded at the same time.

"NO!" Geronimo shouted.

"ETA to target?" Carr asked the technician once more.

"Three minutes and 17 seconds, sir." He reported.

"And how far to the equator?"

"About 2 more miles, sir. They're about to cross it, but we might be able to catch them in time."

Geronimo turned his attention back to the two remaining blimps.

"Geronimo, hurry up! They're closing in and firing!" Drummer shouted frantically.

Sure enough, both blimps were now firing, each one aiming for a different jet.

Geronimo quickly regained his composure and began firing once more with the machine gun, trying to steady his aircraft.

But it was already too late.

"Augh! I'm hit!" Drummer reported as several shots tore through the right wing of his jet. "…But not too bad, at the moment…"

"Just stay with me, Drummer. We're almost there!" Wisconsin started.

The two jets were now nearly level with the sphere at the very top of the spire, leveling out as their target drew nearer.

But several more rounds of enemy fire connected with the injured aircraft.

"AH! I'm taking more damage!" He cried. "I don't think I can hold on much longer…"

The pilot in Wisconsin turned to his right and stared for a few moments, seeing for himself the damage that Drummer had sustained.

"Alright, Drummer. Get out of here. Save yourself."

"But sir!"

"I said GO!" Wisconsin shouted. "That's an order!"

"I'm sorry…"

After another burst of machine gun fire, Drummer, quickly dropped his altitude while, at the same time, veering to the right and quickly fleeing the action.

"One of them is dropping, shall I break off and pursue him?" Avenger 4 asked.

"No. He's injured. Stay on the survivor." Avenger 1 replied.

"Very well, sir."

The two blimps remained hot on the path of Wisconsin, who continued zig-zagging back and forth.

"Geronimo, I need a little help!"

"On it!"

Geronimo leveled out and fired again. This time, the shots finally connected.

The pilot of Avenger 1 cringed and veered to the left, briefly losing his pursuit of Wisconsin as the Avenger 4 blimp burst into flames. Several pieces of debris flew by his own blimp, scraping the sides of it before completely dissipating.

"Avenger 4 is down, repeat, Avenger 4 is down!"

"Do you think you can take the last two?" The radio operator asked from the control room.

"No, sir. I can handle this."

The final blimp quickly regained his path and was now steadily following the Wisconsin aircraft, attempting to lock on with one more missile.

"Just hold still, you American scum…"

"I've got you now!" Geronimo shouted, and squeezed the trigger a final time.

Nothing.

"Huh?"

He released the trigger, then squeezed it again.

Still nothing.

"WHAT?! NO!"

"What is it, Geronimo?" Wisconsin asked nervously.

"I'm all empty! And I've got no more missiles left!"

And with that, Avenger 1 began firing. The shots flew around Wisconsin's aircraft, and he continued veering wildly in a futile attempt to evade the gunfire.

"AH!"

Geronimo stared helplessly at the blimp firing upon his only remaining comrade.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment as an idea popped into his head. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

And then, he veered off to the side.

"Wisconsin, circle around! Come towards me!"

"How can you cover me if you've got nothing left?"

"Just do it!"

"Alright!"

Wisconsin then began turning to the left, circling around several dozen feet above the spire's sphere. Soon, both of the jets were converging in their own semi-circle paths, heading towards each other.

"Geronimo…?"

"I'm gonna clear the way for you. But once I've done that, you've got to plant The Giver yourself!"

Wisconsin then soared straight under Geronimo's aircraft, the final blimp directly on his tail. Geronimo closed in, ducking down suddenly and flying straight into the blimp's path.

Wisconsin, turning his head, saw what the remaining pilot was doing.

"GERONIMO, WAIT!"

"Just plant The Giver, Mr. Presi-"

And then Geronimo's aircraft slammed head-on into the oncoming blimp, annihilating both in one final, fantastic explosion.

Wisconsin slowly turned his head around, wanting to exhale in relief at the destruction of the final enemy aircraft, but at the same time pause for the realization of his comrade's noble sacrifice.

But instead, he ignored both and chose to listen to Geronimo's final words.

With that, he reduced his speed and lowered his altitude, circling back around towards the sphere.

Once he was level with the top of the sphere, he began typing in the code for the specially-modified deployment device on the underside of the jet.

Then, after a pause, the device dropped down out from underneath the jet and landed on top of the sphere, planting itself firmly against the foreign metal. Almost immediately, it began sending its signal throughout the entire radius of the sphere it was now attached to.

And with that, the pilot of Wisconsin, one George Walker Bush, veered sharply away from the Death Ray and began flying straight back towards the aircraft carrier ahead of it, already able to make out the limping aircraft belonging to Drummer as it was already returning.

"The two surviving aircraft are fleeing." The technician reported, noticeable confusion in his voice.

"Never mind it." Carr replied sharply. "After all, we're only…"

"Sixty seconds and closing to the target." The technician replied, already used to the daily update that was now expected of him.

"One minute away. They can run, but they can't hide."

Sweating profusely, the other technician wiped his brow and peered in closer to the readout.

"The equator is now approximately 3 miles away."

Had the four men not been thoroughly distracted with the battle, or the significance of reaching their newest – and most significant yet – target, one of them might have noticed the discrepancy between this report and the previous distance report.

But none of them noticed.

"The device is planted!" Bush reported, though there wasn't exactly excitement in his voice.

"They're still closing in." The captain replied from the bridge of the carrier. Even in his voice, the clear nervousness that all onboard were feeling was clearly audible.

"We've passed the equator now, sir." One of the bridge operators reported to the captain.

Bush's aircraft caught up with the crippled Drummer jet, and was now flying alongside him at a steady pace.

"Let's hope this works, sir." The pilot replied very nervously.

"It's got to work." Bush assured half-heartedly.

He closed his eyes.

Please, Lord…please…

"Come on, we've got to reach them…" Carr muttered nervously.

"30 seconds. 29."

"A mile and a half now before we reach the equator, sir!"

"25. 24. 23."

"Is there no way we can check the status of that thing's coordinates?" The captain asked frantically.

"It'll take a few more seconds to register the location of the radar disruptor, sir…"

"19. 18."

"It's getting closer, sir! I don't think I can stay airborne much longer…"

"Just hang in there, Drummer!" Bush reassured. "We can't land safely on the carrier until that thing is destroyed!"

"10 seconds and closing!"

"We're almost there, sir." Johansen said as he turned to his superior. "We've almost got them."

"Good. They can't escape us now."

"5 seconds!"

"They're closing in, captain!"

"On us?"

"Us AND the equator!"

"They're closing in, sir!"

"The target is in range!"

Carr turned to Johansen with a devious half-grin.

"Fire at will, Johansen."

Johansen returned a nod and an equally satisfied smile. "With pleasure, sir."

"Maintaining current speed." Another technician reported. "We are closing in with one mile to the equator."

Johansen pressed the first white square button, which lit up red.

He then pressed the yellow round button, which turned from yellow to green.

One by one, he turned the various dials, flipped the two levers, and then began typing in the necessary codes.

Then the glass case slid open, revealing the large red button.

Grinning, Johansen typed in the final, 3-digit code: 6-6-6.

The button lit up.

"This is it, sir." Johansen reported, clear satisfaction and relief in his voice.

"Ah. If I may." Carr stepped in.

Without even waiting for a response from the technician, the German Shepherd quickly stepped forward and cut Johansen off. He stood before the massive red button, and raised a single hand with pure delight.

And then, suddenly, there was a powerful jerking motion that shook the entire machine from the bottom all the way to the top. All four men in the control room – along with every other man aboard the Death Ray – were thrown violently to the floor. One of the two technicians slammed his head against the control panel first, denting in a panel of buttons and sending up a brief flurry of sparks. The other technician flew straight at the ground at such a devastating angle that he didn't even feel his own neck break.

The sudden disruption was enough to activate the automatic alarm. The deep sound resonated loudly throughout the entire machine. But nearly half of the personnel onboard were not even conscious – or barely conscious enough – to hear it.

"AH! WHAT THE DEVIL WAS THAT?!" Carr screamed at the top of his lungs right before he groaned in pain.

Johansen tried to sit up, glancing over at the control panel and one large screen in particular. The screen was flashing between red and white, with the words on it in black print.

The five words that it displayed were the horrifying words that he hoped to never see in his lifetime.

FATAL ERROR

MAGNETIC POLARITY REVERSED

Several more explosions rocked the entire Death Ray from far below, as both of the two main engines quickly gave out, their lives ended by a series of rapid explosions.

"JOHANSEN!"

On another screen, another devastating message lit up.

RED ALERT

LASER FIRE SEQUENCE INTERRUPTED

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!"

"I don't know how, sir…but our polarity-."

Another powerful shift, which sent Johansen slamming up against the control panel.

"AUGH! OUR POLARITY IS REVERSED! WE'VE CROSSED THE EQUATOR!"

And then the Death Ray's final stand was over. Both engines completely gave out, and the machine began its magnetically-enhanced drop. The sudden shift in gravity was so powerful that every single individual flew straight up to the ceiling, wherever they were. Some merely slammed flat up against it, while others flew at it at such angles that there were immediate sickening – and sometimes fatal – cracks of bone. Especially for those who were located in higher areas, such as the hangars. Both Carr and Johansen, as well as the two motionless bodies of the other two technicians, all flew up to the ceiling of the control room. There were several more cracks from all four bodies, and only one of them retained consciousness.

Carr's previous mixed emotions – from nervousness to satisfaction, from satisfaction to greed, from greed to shock – were now thoroughly taken over by an undying fear. Nothing else but pure fear.

With a touch of pain.

And it was with these two emotions that he screamed in sheer terror as the Death Ray soared straight down, straight towards the surface of the Earth, straight towards the ocean below. All other inanimate objects, such as the chairs, had joined him and the three unconscious technicians on the ceiling. And all the while, the control panel was now flashing a variety of colors wildly, the alarm still blaring, and the two very grave messages continuing to be broadcast on the massive screens.

All throughout the machine, there was a similar scene in every room where at least one occupant was still conscious – or alive. Everything was now on the ceiling, and the only sounds were the blaring of the alarm and the screaming of the survivors…who would soon be joining their late comrades.

"MY GOD! IT'S GOING DOWN!" The pilot of Drummer announced.

Bush turned around in the direction of the machine. Sure enough, it was now falling. No, not just falling. It was flying straight down. The sheer weight of the massive machine – now fully exposed to the laws of gravity and physics – was merely the beginning of its speed. The reversed magnetic polarity was pulling it down towards the Earth at an even faster rate than regular gravity could ever hope to achieve.

"Then we've done it!" Bush declared proudly. "And not a moment to spare!"

"SUCCESS!" The radio operator shouted. "It's going down!"

Almost immediately, there was a sudden burst of applause, cheers, and whistles as the officers, the Cabinet members, and everyone else on the carrier – all packed into the war room – began celebrating their victory…a little too soon.

"Not yet!" Captain Norton interrupted through a megaphone to silence the cheers. "Now we must brace for impact! Everyone DOWN!"

"Sir, will the carrier manage to survive the wave?" Drummer asked nervously.

"The captain seems to think so." Bush replied, though not with complete confidence in his voice.

The Death Ray continued plummeting straight down. The screams of pure terror continued, with most of the survivors completely unable to tell where they were – and how much longer, or shorter, they had until they finally hit the ocean.

But all this was answered the final impact. Although the massive machine mostly punched straight through the water, the impact on the surface was more than enough to give another great violent jolt throughout the entire Death Ray, resulting in hundreds more cracking of bones, ending of lives, and silencing of screams.

Then, in less than two seconds from the impact, the Death Ray was already completely submerged as it continued its descent straight down into the dark depths of the Atlantic Ocean. Though very few men aboard were still alive, the rapid descent would surely finish them off with the rapid decompression, which would shatter a vast majority of the glass onboard and allow the seawater to come flooding in from all directions, and then the final, fatal, finishing impact as the Death Ray slammed into the ocean floor, finishing off the last few resilient pieces of glass, bending and twisting the metal into a misshapen heap, thoroughly destroying all of the remaining weapons and machinery, and driving the entire Death Ray deeper into the sand at the bottom of the world.

Everyone aboard the carrier braced for impact as the tidal wave from the Death Ray's impact through the ocean's surface barreled towards them. It never seemed to tower above the flight deck, but it was still of a rather intimidating size. Nevertheless, it struck the carrier from behind and to the left, quickly tilting the bow downwards and causing the entire carrier to shift to a slanted angle. Everyone grabbed onto the nearest solid object, from the edges of tables and control panels to door frames and pipes, as the carrier was slanted for several seconds. It then straightened out as it briefly rode the top of the wave, sending everything back into position. Then it tilted backwards with the bow now facing up, and everything slanted in the opposite direction as the wave passed by underneath it. Then, once the wave was completely gone, it settled back down on the ocean's surface, bobbing like a cork for a little while longer before settling back down.

Once they realized it was over, they all got back to their feet and began cheering once more. Now, even the captain was joining in on the celebrations.

Just then, a voice came back over the radio, briefly pulling one of the operators away from the celebration.

"Base, this is Wisconsin. Drummer is hit and needs an immediate landing!"

"Copy that, Wisconsin. We'll get the landing crews back into position immediately!"

...

In a matter of minutes, the crew was there to receive the limping aircraft as it landed on the deck and slid to a stop. The crippled jet was towed off to the side to make way for the one other survivor. Once the Wisconsin jet had landed, no sooner did the cockpit open up than the entire crew, as well as the cabinet members and other administration staff, were all rushing the aircraft with cheers and whistles as the President of the United States climbed down out of his aircraft.

He was instantly swarmed by his closest friends, comrades, advisors, supporters, subordinates, and fellow Americans. Numerous hands were patting him on the back and grabbing his shoulders as he shook hands and laughed in relief. Then, finally, the pilot with the codename Drummer managed to navigate the crowd up to the President.

Bush immediately turned to the survivor.

"Mr. President..." He started to salute.

"As you were, soldier. What's your name?"

"First Lieutenant Ezekiel Miller, sir."

"Well then, Lieutenant Miller...today is your big day. And now, due to your actions..."

Bush paused briefly and looked back out at the crowd before resuming.

"...and as the sole survivor of the attack squad."

Despite the briefest of pauses between this sentence and the next, the implications already quickly set in.

"...You are now a hero not only of America...but of the entire free world."

Putting an arm around Miller's shoulder, Bush turned to the crowd. "And now, because of Lieutenant Miller's actions today...this 4th of July...the day we would celebrate our independence and liberty as Americans, is now no longer an American holiday...but now it is a day of freedom and celebration for the entire free world as we know it!"

Yet another burst of applause, cheers, whistles, and other celebratory gestures. Only now, they were equally directed at Lieutenant Miller as well as his Commander-in-Chief.