A/N: As promised, here's your second update this week. I absolutely love this chapter, and the main reason why I'll get to right now.

This chapter was essentially created by you guys. Granted, the idea here came from me, but the way it was executed was all you guys. I just want to take the time right here and give huge shout-outs to Johnwolf234, Demo ODST, Immortal Drake, themasterofcircuits, tomwilliams1990, FullSpartand, and three others that prefer to remain anonymous. I just want to say; you guys are awesome, and this chapter is dedicated to you guys. I hope you enjoy it.

For the rest of you who may not know, those guys listed above essentially came up with the character list for this particular chapter. I won't spoil any more than that. So, that being said, I hope you guys like this, and let me know if you want more opportunities like this in the future. I actually had to cut off a few characters, so if you are one of the people who sent in a character and you don't see him/her in this chapter, don't worry. I'll make sure that he/she will make it in later. Until then, please enjoy, and as always, tell me what you think.

Again, thanks to the guys listed above, and I hope you enjoy. Take care fellas!


"What are you talking about? America's not going to be destroyed."
"Never?"
"…Well…"
"Rome was destroyed, Greece was destroyed, Persia was destroyed, Spain was destroyed; all great countries are destroyed… Why not yours? How much longer do you think your country will last? …Forever?"
"…Well forever is a long time."
"Very long."
– Catch - 22


DAY FOUR


CMD Cerinia – Cornerian Military Destroyer 5 (Airspace of Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada)

"Assault squadron, report in," a cobalt blue wolf commanded, gazing out of the window of the bridge and looking out at a sprawling city. At first glance, it was blatantly obvious that the city below was heavily populated, which was all the motivation Brigadier Klas Yuçernis needed to get his energy pumping.

Klas was one of the few Cornerian militants that hailed from the outskirt planet Cerinia. He was a well-respected warrior in his faction, standing at six foot six and nearly two hundred and thirty-five pounds. He was a tribal leader on Cerinia, and after Corneria established relations with the planet, they sent over delegates to train and learn about Cornerian protocol when it came to warfare. Klas was one of the delegates sent, and in only two months he had more training than anyone on Cerinia could ever hope to learn in their entire lifetime. Klas loved the training so much, he decided to stay in the CDF, and in a few years' time he had worked his way up to commanding his own Destroyer.

That same Destroyer was looming over the Earthly city Vancouver, and his mission from General Pepper was to take his cruiser and wipe out cities along the coastline of the massive continent spanning hundreds of miles south from their current position. He was rushed into combat short-noticed, so his cobalt blue fur was patchy and matted, and his longer, much darker navy blue hair that ran around his black tipped ears was tangled and bushy, much like his white tipped tail. His black tribal tattoos on his cheeks, forehead, and white-furred lower neck were intimidating to say the least, mainly because Cerinian tattoos were a symbol of authority. Klas took that authority to heart, and rarely anyone got in his way for fear he would mop the floor with them. He turned his piercing turquoise eyes to the main bridge attendant (other than himself) and gave a grin with his snow white muzzle that could make the most mature adults piss themselves in fear.

"Radio lines working for them?" he asked in a surprisingly calm tone.

"Should be," a yellow canary replied. "Try again; just adjusted frequency."

Klas nodded and lowered his microphone. "Assault squadron, report in," he barked firmly in his heavily Cerinian accented tongue, and even though the people on the bridge weren't being spoken to directly, they still cringed and ducked down slightly as he spoke.

"Ring leader, checking in," the main fighter pilot responded, then soon thereafter the other pilots started reporting their status.

"Bomber four, all loaded up."

"Fighter two, systems optimal."

"Bomber one, ready."

"Fighter five, checking in."

"Fighter three, all clear."

"Bomber three, standing by."

"Bomber five, ready."

"Fighter four, weapons clear."

"Bomber two, checking in."

"All ships are ready," the avian stated. "Whenever you're ready, sir."

Klas smirked and inched closer to his control panel, then placed a large blue paw over a silver switch.

"All fighters, you are clear to engage. Pave the way," he commanded, flicking the switch. Almost instantly, the five silver and blue fighters exited the Destroyer and began to circle around the cruiser to scan for enemies. After a full scan had been completed, the ring leader spoke up again.

"Airspace is clear, sir," he spoke, reassuring the large Cerinian wolf. He gave a faint chuckle, then placed his claw over another switch.

"All bombers, you are clear to engage... Bring 'em hell, boys."

A few seconds later, five large, sleek, and silver ships flew in front of the Destroyer and slipped into a V formation. Cornerian bombers were originally an experiment by the CDF, but the experiment worked so well that they ended up mass-producing the ships for further combat. They were downright massive – easily five times longer than conventional Arwings, and required two long support wings on either side to keep the aircrafts stable. They were nicknamed "Hellbringers" due to the amount of ammunition they could carry. Each bomber had hundreds of highly volatile nova bombs at their disposal, as well as having two separate gunners manned by other Cornerians on either side of the open-air hull near the wings, and a third mounted at the tail. These ships were heavy, slow moving aircrafts, which required the extra gunners to repel fighters that tried to take the colossal ships down.

One bomber in particular, the third one in the squadron, was especially devastating. The official name for the bomber was The Vulpine Spirit, but "Laserproof Leah" was her affectionate nickname, given to the ship as a result of flying three separate tours over Venom without a single scratch on her. The crew – a seven man battalion with as much experience with the bomber as the person who invented the model of the craft itself – was the Destroyer's pride and joy. Captain Kyle Reeves, a tall but rather slim brown-furred wolf and husky hybrid was the main pilot of the bomber. He tilted his ship to the left to reform his formation, then lowered his headset as he spoke to the crew in the back.

"Alright guys, go ahead and call in to see if your gear is working," Kyle suggested.

"Alex Steele, checking in," a medium sized white tod announced, adjusting the holographic scope on his massive automatic weapon facing out the right side of the aircraft.

"Derrick Woods, checking in," a sandy brown vulpine echoed quietly and almost inaudibly, doing one last-minute check of his tail turret controls.

"Dana Johann, checking in," a female German shepherd/Labrador mix replied, muffled by the copious amounts of explosives strapped into the bomber she was standing behind.

"Mark Wilson, checking in," a large jet black fox said as he made sure his left side turret was moving the way it was supposed to.

"Austin Rudolph, checking in," a blonde wolf with a pair of glasses perched on his muzzle responded, crouching down near the female canine and checked to see if the controls to the locking mechanism for the explosives were correctly wired.

"Sabrina Garretson, checking in," a female cheetah responded confidently, strapping herself into the seat right next to the cargo hold. The husky hybrid nodded in approval, then turned back to his controls and spoke on the radio line.

"This is Captain Reeves. We're within thirty klicks of our target, so keep your eyes peeled, and if you see any human jets, bring 'em down. Am I clear?"

All pilots responded positively, prompting the hybrid to dive forward to punch through a thick layer of clouds. He glanced back and saw the shepherd struggling with the explosives, then raised an eyebrow as she grunted loudly in disapproval.

"You alright back there DJ?"

The tall female hybrid gave a nasty elbow to the cargo, then lifted her head back up and slicked her long greasy hair behind her ears. "Am now. Just making sure that we don't blow ourselves up back here."

Kyle once again nodded, then shortly after all the other ships poked through a few radio signals were heard from the other fighters.

"Enemy fighters inbound, two off port side. We'll take 'em."

Two of the five support Arwings peeled off of formation and spun to face the human jets. What they were not expecting was a surprise ambush from behind the bomber squadron where two different human jets were hurtling towards the two Arwings at a ninety degree angle. Due to the fact that the Arwings were not built to withstand human weaponry, the surprise missile launched from the sleek human jet caught the one Arwing pilot off guard – detonating his fighter without any warning. The other pilots took offence to the surprise attack, then not too far after a dogfight was taking place around the airspace of the five bombers that were hell-bent on leaving a crater a mile wide in their target city.

"Sir, our squadron just got ambushed," the yellow canary spoke up. Klas growled menacingly as he bared his unnaturally long canine teeth, making the avian's spine freeze over.

"They holding up alright?" he responded in a tone that contrasted sharply with his expression.

"One fighter is down, but the others are still in working condition. They're about twenty-three klicks from target."

Klas let out a long breath of air through his nose, then turned his attention to the window where he could see the dogfight escalate. Bright blue lasers and yellow-orange muzzle flashes lit up the cloud covered sky, but it looked as though the number of muzzle flashes did not start to diminish.

Kyle's bomber kept her course. Both vulpine side gunners and tail gunner had their work cut out for them; essentially blind-firing out of their holographic crosshairs towards the human's yellow flashes. Captain Reeves kept his calm as he had always done in situations like this before, but he still felt his fur crawl as the sounds of loud machine guns did not dissipate. He was starting to take a bit of fire, and with his shields useless against this kind of enemy, he could only pray that he finished his mission like he had always done. Unscathed.

The second bomber was not having as fun a time as the wolf-dog, however. Kyle saw the right G-diffuser on the ship start to smoke as it kept tanking round after round of machine gun fire. His concern quickly transitioned to fear as the next barrage of fire it took turned out to be a crippling blow to the bomber. The G-diffuser ignited, and just as fast as it was blanketed in flames it started to dip towards the surface. He was relegated to watching in horror as the bomber dove out of view, then even through the loudness of the surrounding gunfire, he could still hear the audible boom as the bomber impacted the ground.

"Oh shit," DJ exclaimed, tightly holding onto the support strap dangling from the ceiling of the bomber as she poked her muzzle out of the hull momentarily. "Was that Winters' bomber?"

"I think you're right," Sabrina replied with a hint of bitterness. "Hopefully those sons of bitches jumped before it hit."

"Just stay focused guys," Kyle commanded, continuously looking at his instruments. "We're sixteen klicks away from the target, then once we drop payload we can go home."

Kyle was attempting to reassure his crewmembers, but even he didn't know if they were going to be lucky enough to escape. Every time an Arwing or bomber side gunner took out one of the human's jets, it seemed as though two or three more would take its place. Pretty soon, they were getting overrun by the humans, and if they didn't drop their cargo soon they wouldn't be too far behind the second bomber battalion.

"I got this one," Mark announced, firmly planting his feet on the floor of the bomber as he trained the muzzle of his machine gun towards the human jet in question, then began his onslaught of laser fire. Most of his shots missed due to the jerking of the bomber, the erratic movements of the human aircraft, and the intense recoil of the machine gun, but three of his shots found their mark, which was all it took to melt the jet's wing clean off and send the fighter into a spiral. What he wasn't expecting was the spiraling jet colliding with the next bomber in line; bomber five. The jet exploded onto the left wing of the bomber, essentially vaporizing the aircraft's appendage and caused the G-diffuser to malfunction. With the force of gravity and the lack of a stabilizing wing, the bomber quickly began losing altitude, and just like the first incident, it had no indication of letting up until it hit the terrain below. The jet black fox that essentially caused friendly fire watched the plummeting bomber with a horrified and guilt-stricken stare.

"We're dropping like flies!" the first bomber pilot exclaimed through the radio, then not soon after another Arwing erupted into flames right next to them as yet another human missile impacted the fighter.

"Sir, they're getting overrun," the avian said shakily, trying his best not to incite the Cerinian's anger, but that worked as well as trying to light a match underwater. Klas drove his paw into the armrest of his chair harshly, then as he stood up he revealed a large dent in the chair in the shape of an unnaturally large paw print.

"How?" he interrogated. The yellow canary gulped and responded with a slight stutter.

"There's t-too many of them. We can't keep up with the increase in resistance." Klas growled loudly as he stepped back over to the comms panel.

"Bombers one and four; break formation. Converge on the target, but keep your distance on the others."

"Understood, sir," the fourth bomber's pilot responded, then trailed off to the left with a support Arwing closely pursuing. Right as the first bomber broke formation as well, the Cerinian's Destroyer started rocking. It was apparent now that the human jets didn't want to bother with smaller fish and went straight for the shark.

"Get turrets running, now!" the cobalt wolf commanded, instantly scrambling the bridge into controlled chaos. Some extra soldiers that were waiting in the hull of the cruiser were suddenly thrown into action by controlling the fifteen separate energy cannons scattered around the hull. Shots from those turrets were plentiful, but accurate as they took down one after another fighter jet. Their job was painstakingly difficult due to the fact that the human pilots were blatantly well trained, and they obviously knew exactly what they were doing. Protecting themselves.

"Target within nine klicks," Kyle announced over the sounds of machine gun fire around them. Austin nodded, then pressed a button which opened the drop doors below the copious amounts of explosives. They were only supposed to launch a fraction of what they had to conserve resources, but it was still enough explosives to make Michael Bay's jaw drop.

Perfect timing came into play, and not in a good way. Right as the bombers were going to converge on their supposed drop sight, another wave of human forces came in. Not only were there F-22 lining the sky now, there were also a few of the hideous looking death-bringers from Boston closely pursuing that squadron. As they came within range, the ear-splitting and heart-stopping whirring sound returned to Cornerian ears, then right as the noise was about to drive them insane–

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRT

An onslaught of metal bullets swarmed the bombers like hornets, and every time a bullet would hit the Cornerian metal it would echo a loud sound reminiscent of hitting a hammer against a sheet of scrap metal. Kyle's ship took the brunt of the attack, then after the planes had finished their siege upon the massive aircrafts he heard the somewhat smaller white vulpine curse.

"Aw fuck, there's a hole the size of my dick in the right G-diffuser!" he said somewhat humorously, but in their situation it was considered a sin to laugh. Kyle grunted in acknowledgement, then adjusted some of his instruments to accommodate for the damage received.

"Commander Yuçernis; we've taken some heavy damage," he called, struggling to keep his bomber leveled out.

"Keep on course," the Cerinian lupine commanded. "You guys are almost there. Just drop the package and turn back immediately. We can't afford to lose more men."

Another round of the god-awful rotary gun on their ship and they were finished. They were close enough to the ground that they didn't need supplemental oxygen, but Kyle kept his oxygen mask over his muzzle because he seemed to be struggling to take in air. He shakily tilted his bomber about five degrees to the right, then after another attempt at a leveling maneuver he flicked a switch on the control panel.

"Four klicks!" he shouted. The left gunner started another barrage of cover fire, eliminating another jet as it closed in on their location, but that one came too close for comfort. If he would have let that jet get a few feet closer they would have gone up in flames right then and there.

"Two!" he counted down, prompting the female shepherd bomb manager to stagger over to her position to ensure the drop happened when it was supposed to. She just happened to look out of the right gunner's window, just in time to see one of the humans' A10 planes erupt into flames before it could start another onslaught on the fourth bomber. She sighed a breath of relief, then after pushing her voluminous hair behind her ears again she placed her paw over the switch to drop their present.

"Get ready!" Kyle continued, seeing his target slowly inch closer on his small radar screen. Painfully long seconds ensued with an eerie silence accompanying it, then it seemed as time itself stopped as his crosshair completely overlapped the target marked.

"Now DJ!" he barked, and a split-second later Dana had activated the switch on the back of the bomber, causing a large sum of their payload to drop from the locking mechanism and down to the ground below. Earthquake-like tremors ensued after the bombs dropped, shaking the terrain wildly as the pale blue glow of the bombs lit up the surface like a firework showing.

The hybrid exhaled loudly as he shut the cargo doors after their entire designated amount of explosives left the aircraft. He quickly tilted his joystick in the opposite direction to head back to the Destroyer, but they still had some opposition in front of them. If they thought the humans were mad with their presence at first, then they were absolutely livid now that their city below was nothing more than charred debris.

"Sir, bomb run successful," he said, tilting his joystick up to poke through the thick layer of clouds again. "We're still taking fire, so any help you could give us that'd be great."

Klas obliged, then turned his muzzle to the weapons manager. "Tell our front three turrets to focus fire on any hostile aircrafts in and around bomber three's path. They deserve to come home."

Kyle inched his aircraft upwards just a little bit to allow the lasers stemming from what he could see of the Destroyer off in the distance to find their intended destinations. He tried what he could to increase his speed to try and get there quicker, but that only made the damage to the wing of the bomber worse. The metal covering some of the circuitry was starting to peel off, and that was becoming a large and prime target for the humans' fire.

Then, his worst fear became reality.

The lack of protection against the human weaponry turned out to be a devastating blow to Kyle's bomber. An A10 missile detonated on the long wing where the circuitry was showing, causing the entire appendage of the plane to be sheared off. He cursed loudly as he was violently tossed around in his cockpit, and as his aircraft started to loose altitude he radioed in to the Cerinian Brigadier.

"I'm hit," he grunted, tearing off his oxygen mask and trying to keep his bomber leveled out but failing miserably in doing so. "I won't be able to make it to the hanger in time. I'm gonna have to land her on the surface."

Austin heard his plans and quickly rushed up behind him. "Sir, the surface is crawling with humans! We can't land there and expect to get out alive!"

"I don't have enough power to get to the Destroyer," Kyle answered, pulling up on his joystick, but having his aircraft do the opposite. "We'll manage when we get to the surface."

"You're gonna get us all killed!" the lupine retorted shakily.

"What choice do I have?" Kyle snapped. "Try to get to the Destroyer, and end up crashing our ship with the lack of control I have, or improvise a landing on the surface and make our way from there? It's our only chance!"

The wolf hesitated, then grunted as he slipped alongside the hybrid. "Then you're gonna need a co-pilot."

"No, you take care of the excess explosives," Kyle commanded. "Make sure they don't detonate once we hit land. I'm not counting on a pretty landing; that's for damn sure."

Austin obliged and did what the hybrid instructed of him to do. As he was securing the explosives, the Cerinian wolf came back on the line.

"We'll get you a recovery party as soon as we clear out all these fighters," Klas promised, but Kyle thought differently.

"No, you can continue these missions without us, sir. We can hold tight until your campaign is done, then you can come back for us."

"Are you sure about this Captain?" he asked, but with the radio becoming more and more static-plagued it was difficult to comprehend him.

"I can take care of myself, sir," he replied confidently. "I've got an amazing crew with me. We'll hold out here until you guys come back."

"Alright, I'm trusting you here," Klas remarked. "Don't make me regret doing it."

"Understood sir. Wish me luck," he added, just as the radio cut out completely. He tossed his headset aside, then tightly clamped both of his paws on the joystick and pulled on it as hard as he could. He was losing altitude, but at least he kept the nose up long enough so it didn't start tearing the ship apart before it even hit the surface.

What was once a highly respected bomber flying high just beneath the clouds was now a bomber heavily crippled and beginning to take the tips off of trees. The hybrid looked back just in time to see that all of his crewmembers had strapped themselves in, then pushed on his joystick lightly. The bomber lurched forward and impacted the ground harshly, making the occupants shake violently as the bomber carved out a path in the earth, taking out countless trees in the process. After digging over a hundred-foot-long trench in the earth with his aircraft, he finally came to a rocky stop as his bomber propped itself against a giant unmoving tree.

Kyle was panting heavily with both of his paws still tightly grasping the control stick even moments after the bomber had stopped moving. It finally took the jet black vulpine stepping into the cockpit and placing a paw over his shoulder to snap him out of his frozen state.

"You did it Captain," Mark said, himself breathing heavily. "We're all alright back here."

The wolf-dog continued to hold onto the joystick, but he eventually started chuckling breathily in disbelief as a large smile creased his muzzle. He gasped for air momentarily and finally let go of his controls as he slouched in his seat after unbuckling his safety harness. After regaining his bearings and his breath, he picked himself out of his seat and stepped out of the cockpit.

"And you guys say you can't stand my flying," he taunted with a smirk.

"Not that we can't stand it, but it scares the living shit out of us," Alex chuckled. Kyle grinned, then stepped out of the crippled aircraft and onto the grassy ground below. He took a glance in all directions around himself, and after seeing nothing but trees and the sides of cliff faces he turned back to the bomber crew.

"Looks like we lucked out," he stated, glancing at his wrist transmitter. "We landed in an area with no ground troops."

"They're gonna come looking for us, the human are," Sabrina remarked.

"I know," Kyle responded with confidence. "Get everything you guys might need for a little journey packed up. Food, weapons, everything. We need to get out of here. Now."

"Where are we gonna go, Captain?" Austin asked. The hybrid looked at the sky for a few moments, then stared at the rest of the crew with his piercing pale blue eyes.

"Anywhere but here."

##########

"I sure hope that bomber crew knows what they're doing," Klas mumbled with a paw over his head. It had been roughly twenty minutes since he lost radio signal with the bomber, and like the hybrid Captain instructed him to do, he kept his course heading south on the continent. He had fought off the rest of the human resistance, although the Destroyer herself wasn't in the best condition. She had taken quite a few hits, but she was a massive dreadnaught warship; she wouldn't go down because of a few missiles. She could tank much more than that.

He knew damn well that Kyle was right in saying he could hold his own with his crew. That was one of, if not his best battalion on his entire cruiser. The wolf-dog would be fine on the surface while they continued out their mission, but Klas was more worried about himself. How was the rest of his bomb runs supposed to be successful if he didn't have his top bomber in the sky?

It's be important to say that Cerinians were almost always religious, and if anyone thought Klas wasn't, they'd be sorely mistaken. He wasn't doing anything else other than praying at this current moment. Praying that his mission wouldn't go wrong in more ways than one, and praying that Capitan Reeves and his crew would survive on the surface crawling with enemy soldiers. He may not express it much, but he does care for his crew. All of his crew. Every single one of those brave soldiers risking their lives in what was the most dangerous war any Cornerian had ever fought to date. They had more courage than he did, and that was saying something.

The yellow avian near the wolf raised up a wing suddenly. "Sir, there's… something off of our starboard bow."

"What's wrong?" The Cerinian asked.

The bird poked at his machines in front of him for a split-second. "Our sensors are detecting a strong energy source just off the coast of out next target."

Klas stood up and slipped behind the much smaller avian. He stared at the screen for a while with narrowed eyes, watching the energy readings of this unknown source pulsate frequently. It didn't venture far from a set amount for quite a while, then after a few seconds of watching the readings rise slightly and continuously, the graph suddenly spiked – giving a reading five times larger than the rough average. As soon as it spiked, it dipped to an almost unmeasurably small level in the same amount of time.

"What just happened?" Klas asked expectantly and confusedly. The avian shrugged his shoulders.

"Tough to say. It can't be a weapon, because all they have are kinetics. That was pure energy, whatever that was. It might have been a generator the humans have, or… hell, sir, I honestly don't know."

The Cerinian wolf grunted in confusion, then turned his head to the window, but right as he gazed out into the clouds his heart fell into his stomach as he saw something hurtling towards them at incredible speed with no indication of it slowing.

"Oh you mother–"


USS Sheppard – Zumwalt Class Destroyer (coast of Whidbey Island, Washington)

A tall and masculine army officer was sitting at his desk with his head propped up on his left hand, and his right hand rolling a small model car back and forth across his desk.

The time he was spending alone in his office was starting to drive him nuts. There was an unworldly power massacring their nation, and all he could do about it was sit in a room, rolling a small model car across the length of his oak desk. It made him feel powerless, and that was something Admiral Steven Gionta was not used to feeling.

Everyone knows that size does not merit authority – rank does; and Gionta's rank contrasted sharply with his size. He was a measly five foot eight and roughly one hundred and seventy pounds, and his short blonde crew cut and lack of any facial hair only added to his rather smaller stature. Disregard his physical appearance though, because he was probably one of the smartest men enlisted in the US Navy.

And yet, why was he sitting alone in his office, relegated to rolling a model car across his desk?

The car was his good luck charm. A 42:1 scale 1969 Chevrolet Corvette, painted in a glossy metallic red finish. It had a few paint chips in it, but that was only because he kept that model car wherever he went. Whenever he was nervous, he would either have that car roll across a flat surface (such as his desk), or fidget with the openable hood on the car with his thumb. It would drive his crew insane hearing the tiny sound of the metal hood clicking against the rest of the car, but if he didn't do it he would go insane himself.

His head was slowly slipping from his hand as the boredom from sitting alone in his office started to get to him. In seconds, his head would've fallen off of his hand and landed on the oak desk below, but luckily his office door slammed open before he could give himself a headache.

"Sir!" a white clothed Navy sailor barked, getting the attention of his superior officer. "Sir we've got eyes on an enemy cruiser. It's massive!"

The Admiral bolted off of his seat, quickly pocketed the model car, then rushed after the soldier as he sped up a set of stars and slipped into the controls room. Gionta was greeted with a room full of controllers that were speaking to each other, and when there was about ten of them located in the same room, the sound of speaking that was echoing in the iron plated room was deafening.

"What's going on?" Gionta snapped, quieting the room instantly. The soldier that had rushed down to pick him up was the one to wave his arm in the air to signal him to come closer. He obliged, then stared at the radar screen he was standing by.

"It's one of the alien warships," he explained. "They're heading this way, and fast!"

The Admiral quickly sped over to the nearest window in the controls room, then managed to locate the miniscule silhouette of an alien design hiding in the clouds. It was small because of how far away it was, but if consistency was a thing that existed, it was going to be downright massive when it was closer.

"Get our men to battle stations," he commanded, continuously staring out of the window. "I've got an idea."

A faint alarm was heard in the depths of the ship, and as it was screaming another soldier trotted up to the Admiral. "What's your plan, sir?"

He turned his head away from the window and gave the soldier a slight devilish grin. "We're gonna test out our new toy on our unwelcome visitors."

"The railgun?" the officer asked skeptically. Gionta nodded in approval.

"We could try and hit them with conventional means of rocket propulsion, but they move too slow – they'd be able to shoot them down before they got there. It's our only option."

"But what if the gun backfires? This is a brand new ship, sir; we've never tested the railgun on her before."

"It's worth the risk," he replied sternly. "I'd rather have this backfire and kill us all, than have those aliens capture us… or worse…"

The soldier could only nod in approval with a terrified expression. The Admiral continued after a brief silence.

"You know the code; it's better to die on your feet than to live on your knees. I'd rather die knowing I tried to stop them, then live knowing I let another one of our cities fall… …Start running our generators on full power, and divert all the needed energy to the railgun."

"What are we gonna fire at them, sir?" the soldier asked.

"Get our nuclear tipped warheads strapped in," the Admiral suggested, causing the soldier's eyes to shoot open.

"Sir, we've never tried nukes with the railgun before! What if the electrical surges set off the charge?"

"Again, it's worth the risk," he replied. "We've put enough research and time into perfecting launches that have unnaturally high energy readings–such as the railgun–with nukes. We won't be able to take down a warship of that size unless we go straight to the big guns. We need that warship down before it levels another city."

The soldier nodded, then exited the main room. Gionta turned his focus back to the window, then gasped inaudibly as he saw the warship punch through the thick clouds.

It looked like something from Star Wars. A massive Star Destroyer looking spacecraft (minus the large protruding bridge on top), easily exceeding three hundred feet in length and painted in a pure white color. There were patterns of royal blue markings all along the hull of the warship, all converging on a point towards the tip of the cruiser that he deduced was the main bridge. There were visible turrets located all over the massive ship, along with a few hangar doors that found their home on the sides and the underbelly of the warship. There was a pale blue glow emanating from behind the ship which was coming from numerous thrusters, and an almost unnoticeable green glow seeping out of different areas all over. The Admiral shuddered, then turned to face the crew.

"Are we all set?"

"Coordinates are locking as we speak, and the weapon is being mounted," one controller spoke. "We're still waiting on power transfer."

Gionta growled slightly, then turned his focus to the warship again. It was inching dangerously close to their position, and if they didn't do anything about it soon they would fall closely behind Vancouver. Eventually, one by one the people in the room started speaking to announce their readiness.

"Power at 79%."

"Coordinates locked."

"Clear weapons deck, repeat, clear weapons deck."

"Power 85%."

"Magnetic field charging."

"Raise trajectory by thirty meters."

"I sure hope the ten years of research we spent on this pays off," one soldier remarked, staring at his controls as more and more soldiers started speaking up.

"Power 91%."

"Adjust electrical output."

Gionta picked the small model car out of his pocket, then started fidgeting with the hood as the voices continued from the other controllers.

"Power 97%"

"Target velocity acquired, adjusting trajectory to accommodate."

"Full power achieved, prepare for launch."

"Energy transfer complete; launch sequence initiated."

Admiral Gionta took in a deep breath.

"Five."

His car hood shut with a click.

"Four."

The humming of the railgun could be heard throughout the ship as the energy readings picked up.

"Three."

Click.

"Two."

Another loud hum coming from the turret adjusting started up, drowning out the humming of the electromagnet weapon.

"One."

Click.

Goodbye you sons of bitches.

"Fire."

A flurry of noises ensued in the next couple seconds. The most predominant sound was the sound of electrical charges passing through both rails of the weapon; causing the projectile mounted in between the rails to be launched at Mach 7 towards the Cornerian Destroyer. That was the next sound; a sonic boom after launch where the nuclear warhead shot out of the railgun like a bullet out of a machine gun, but multiply the velocity by about ten for a better comparison. The next sound was a chorus of sighs of relief at the sight of a successful launch without any failures from the controllers in the room. The final sound was one last click from the Admiral's car.

The next ensuing seconds were absolutely silent. Nobody dared to make a noise, or even take in a breath of air as they watched their projectile practically warp towards the frigate.

Then… Impact.

BOOM

Blinding white light temporarily blinded the crew of the USS Sheppard as the warhead came into contact with the alien spacecraft. Even with the distance the American Destroyer had on the Cornerian Destroyer, the boat still rocked faintly from the shockwave of the explosion. As the light dissipated, all they could see was a dark plume of smoke from where the frigate was once located. The distinct mushroom shaped cloud of smoke was oddly satisfying for the crew, and as the plume raised upwards, the remnants of the cruiser dropped through the cloud.

Over half of the cruiser was completely gone, and the remaining parts of it were completely shrouded in white hot flames. The fire was so hot and intense it was beginning to melt off some remaining scraps of metal that were still connected with the cruiser. The burning cruiser continued to inch closer to the ground below, or in this case, water.

What was left of the Destroyer submerged into the water with an audible splash, causing a large tidal wave from the impact site. The crew of the USS Sheppard instantly started cheering and howling in success as the cruiser sank into the water. The large boat started rocking even more as the waves resulting from the impact tossed their ship wildly, but even through the violent rocking they could still see the alien warship sink into the depths of the ocean completely.

"Good work boys," Admiral Gionta announced with a relieved smile. "That should knock some sense into 'em."

He cracked his knuckles, then glanced back over at the dark cloud that was produced with the detonation of the nuclear warhead. He grinned to himself as he folded his arms – still with the red model car tightly grasped in his right hand.

Keep this shit up, and there will be more where that came from.


"You're a shameful opportunist! What you don't understand is that it's better to die on your feet than to live on your knees."
"You have it backwards… It's better to live on your feet than to die on your knees."

Don't carry on, just walk away
How many more sent to their graves
In this lesson ignored?
I fought your fight, bought your lie
And in return I lost my life
What purpose does this serve?
What purpose did I serve?

*Rise Against – Survivor's Guilt*