writers note: hi, this probably wont be updated. just a random fic to see whether my writing could be considered okay. this has no beta reader by the way, just wanted to try my hand at writing.
pls give any advice possible on how to improve, or tell me whether it sucks in general. thanks
January 5th, 2032
En route from Fore River to South Boston
The newly christened USS Enterprise, or otherwell known as CVN-80 proceeded down the Fore river together with the other ships of her carrier strike group, all ahead slow. It would be a short sail, less then ten nautical miles from her "birth" place in the newly reopened Navy Yard Annex in Charlestown.
It was a blustery day, with winds chilling near the freezing mark. Even at the capital ship's languid pace, there was already enough headwind to launch the single plane on it's flight deck, a EA-18G Growler, flown by Lt. Jerry Birkin "Pride" , and accompanied by a naval flight officer, hsecond Lt. Alfred "Butler". As Pride pulled and gunned his jet engines, the sixty foot-long aircraft roared loudly, the entire airframe immediately rolling and being lifted roughly down the steel deck of the carrier, floating into the air less than a 100 feet from where it had originally been, right at the front catapults for an routine flight mission. Esentially, it was the first takeoff from the deck of the Enteprise after it had been damaged in the battle of Shanghai in 2028, where it had been damaged by an missile.
Over the next 20 or so years, thousands of naval aviators would conduct tens of thousands of takeoffs and landings from the same flattop decks, a foreshadowing of what was to come.
1218, January 25th, 2032
Captain Robert J. "Fallo", commanding officer of Enterprise bundled in his long, navy-blue greatcoat strode from one side of the bridge to the other, the powerplants and all systems performing just as they should have. Several missile destroyers shadowed the enterprise as she wound her way down into the pacific, out into open sea. The faint smell of brass polish, new paint, and fuel oil stirred the blood of sailors. The great ship, was finally free of her builder's chains during the time of repair at the shipyard. She was participating in one of the many fleet problems (exercises), held in the pacific.
"Enter!" Captain Robert growled after the sharp rap on the door. A nervous young radioman, second class, stepped into the office, hat in one hand and a message hot off the radio set in the other.
He looked up. "What is it sailor?"
The petty officer stepped forward and thrust the slightly crumpled transcription towards his captain. "Message just came off the wire, sir, its from the secretary of the navy himself."
The captain harrumphed, "Lets have it." and took the crumpled paper. "Stand easy, son." With an curt nod, the radioman exhaled, assuming the at-ease position.
The captain scanned the message quickly. "Damn!" The nervous sailor jumped. "Have the duty chief get the chief engineer up here quickly! Dismissed!" The sailor, saluting, ducked out and raced back into the passageway, urgently searching to find the chief petty officer of the watch.
Ten minutes later, USS Enterprise's chief engineer, Lt. Cmdr Holland Ferry John knocked on the captain's door. "You wanted to see me sir?"
"Yes, come on in Holland. Take a look at this nasty bit of business." Robert handed the message he recieved minuges before.
Holland's eyes widened as he read the words. "Sir, he cant be serious. We're being redirected from an training exercise to investigate something?"
"Im afraid he is. The request comes down from President Vanner, along with the secretary. We'll have to give it a try, and maybe an extension of our trip before returning too."
"When? And for how long?"
"Immediately, and however long it takes before the situation dies down. All we can do is give it a go, I'll brief the XO, and you'd better get busy."
With a curt nod, a thoroughly perplexed Holland went off mumbling to himself. Robert picked up his ship's phone and punched the button marked CONN. The executive officer, was cmdr. Newton J. Brown, and as soon as he arrived, he was invited in.
"We've got a real challenge, XO." The captain sighed heavily.
"What is it, sir?" Brown inquired anxiously.
"We've got a few reports of, 'anomalous activity' acting a few 100 miles off Okinawa. Apparently, various warships have been spotted, and most electronics and weapon systems near that area have been fried, presumably by some shockwave. Our strike group, is being redirected to investigate what happened, and the large amount of warships amassing there, if you didn't know."
"Ah, well that's great news. I wouldn't expect any more from them. Ordering our strike group, with limited real munitions to attack against warships? Totally! Im sure this will turn out great. Oh, and captain, thats sarcasm by the way."
"Well, no matter what, we'll have to reach that location. Make the preparations to reach our location, and serve out crew some nice steak and lobster, call up the navigators, and ensure we have a nice time sailing."
"Aye, sir!" With that, the XO ducked back out of the bridge, and into the narrow passageways to conduct the neccesary preparations to oversee the carrier's already arduous trip.
Military time: 1918, January 25th, 2032
"Touchdown, and we hit the 3rd cable! How lucky is that!"
Birkins, nodded towards his partner WSO, Alfred. They were in the Chow hall now, already tired after their long hours being stuck in the cramped cockpit of their EA-18G Growler.
"Oh shit dude, we're gettin steaks and lobster? Think god blesses us today?" Birkins called out. He was a naive one, managing to reach his rank through many strings pulled by his "family" in higher positions. His WSO, however, was much more wise, being an veteran of WW3, where he served on the same damaged carrier. "Shut up man, whenever they serve us steak and lobster, its always something to tell us about the extension of our stay in this stupid god forsaken place here."
"Sure man, sure."
A few minutes later, after everyone sat down, the incessant chatter started. However, suddenly, it seemed to cease as quickly as it started with the sudden appearance of an shrill deafening noise of the loudspeakers, before it began to clear up. As if an evangelical voice came from above, the loud speakers bristled, and let out a hiss:
"Sailors and aviators, I regret to inform you, that as an result of consequences at home and abroad, we are being redirected, and we are all having an extensions of our trips. Now I know this may be saddening for some of you- Well, all of you, but we are heading to investigate an anomaly, and a number of large warships amassing from an undisclosed nation. After you've all eaten your lunch, aviators, report to your respective squadron's ready rooms for briefing. Dismissed."
With that, the announcement caused an collective groan among the many sailors there.
"Well, shit man, pack our stuff and we'll move."
"On it, see you there in a few minutes."
True to their word, they both clambered down from the mess hall into the squadron's ready room, navigating the cramped and dusty interior, entering just on time and climbing into the familiar seats of their ready room. Chatter ceased when Cmdr Lt. William J. Ault began his briefing speech.
"Ah, welcome latecomers. Gentlemen, we've got a shooting war on our hands." William J. Ault called out. At forty-three, he was the old man of this air group, a veteran pilot who was thoroughly respected. "Don't need to tell you what's at stake. This is what we've trained for, and now it's time to show 'em that we're ready. I don't know what the plan is, as yet, but I suspect the skipper wants us to have constant fighter patrols, either that or sending us to investigate. Get your mechs and ordinance up, we'll be on the flight deck at 2100 hours. Soon as I have anymore dope from the CLAG, I'll relay it up to you guys. Now, Dismissed."
"Question sir, where are these warships from?" Birkins called out.
"Would you believe me if I told you if what they were? From recent reports and encounters in the area, most of the ships seem to be steam dreadnoughts, and an 'airwing' of dragons if you can even call it that. We haven't established proper contact yet, so you'll be flying as air patrol around USS Thomas Hudner. They'll try to establish contact, and if anything goes wrong, we fire. When we take off, I want radio silence, even if their stuff seems primitive. Understood?"
"Aye sir!" The aviators responded with a curt reply, their eager enthusiasm on full display. In essence, for this airwing, it was their first proper mission. The previous airwing which had inhibited this carrier, were long gone, wiped out by the global war four years ago. They were eager to prove themselves, eager to live up to the legacy held by the name: Enterprise.
"Dismissed."
2100 Hours
Enterprise's Bridge
"Commander Ault! Prepare to launch your fighters. Destroyer USS Thomas Hudner will be following your approach."
The words seamlessly strung into his headphones.
"Copy that." Came a curt reply from Ault who stood on the flight deck, his head turning towards the flight of F35Bs already taking off. Within a few minutes, the single seater stealth aircraft came to a start, it's jet engine coming alive.
The airframe shifted, and pulled, as the aircraft sliced into the winds above the carrier, it's engine turning downwards below to support the short runway it was given. It pulled, and finally, joined the formation of aircraft that was already ahead of the capital ship. An formation of 2 squadrons consisting of F35Bs, and a complement of EA-18G growlers, with another squadron of F/A-18 Super hornets carrying the newly-mass produced AIM-260 JATM missile. They flew into the sunset, with the Arleigh-Burke class destroyer USS Thomas Hudner steaming below them.
After what felt almost like years, or hours, radio silence was broken by a jubilant voice over the radio; "I've got something out here.. I think its them! Unknown naval contact, bearing 210, ninety-five nautical miles your position! Bright gate-like structure, and a ship coming right out of it!"
The single report came back into the capital ship's bridge. For a while, most of the crew had been at general quarters the entire day, relaxing. Now, with said report, everyone had went back to full-alert, dog-tired.
Captain Robert, the CO of enterprise, rung up the USS Thomas Hudner, and the stage was set. First contact was to begin, initiated by the destroyer.
"UNKNOWN VESSEL! PLEASE STATE YOUR INTENTIONS. THIS IS THE USS THOMAS HUDNER. YOU ARE IN THE TERRITORY OF JAPAN."
The loudspeaker of the modern destroyer blared, a deafening roar amongst the peaceful waves of the pacific ocean, towards the gigantic steel behemoth.
In an instant, it seemed as if all time stopped. The dreadnought's gun's slowly drooped, turning, as each of them trained onto the destroyer. The crew braced themselves. Gunners, gripped their machine gun handles tightly, as the officers on the bridge scrambled to their weapons officers, anxiously waiting for the dreadnought to move. All chatter ceased, as if trapped in a time capsule.
*BANG!*
An bright muzzleflash emitted from the dreadnought's large turrets. The shell, flew in the air, as it seamlessly sliced through the destroyer. It easily penetrated the thin armour of the modern destroyer like butter. burrowing itself deeper till it had reached the magazine compartment of the destroyer. With that, it set off a series of ignitions, finally causing the magazine to explode.
In only but a few seconds, the entire destroyer had practically disintegrated. Smoke, fumes, covered the charred and melted remains of the steel ship. It had suffered a magazine detonation, with the loss of all hands. (Esentially, loss of about 330 US Navy personnel.) The only thing that remained, was an steadily sinking charred wreck, a flash of light emitting the starry night. It marked the start of the first inter-gateway war.
The aviators, circling above quickly came to work.
"Holy shit! They just fired on our guys, commencing attack run!" Birkins yelled out,
In response, the powerful formation above, quickly turned their airframes towards the dreadnought, releasing multiple different missiles like an swarm of angry bees.
Back on the Enterprise, Commander William J. Ault's voice crackled over the radio, commanding his pilots with a practiced calm. "All aircraft, maintain your altitude and continue your engagement. We need to ensure that dreadnought is neutralized. Watch for any additional threats."
The F-35Bs and EA-18Gs executed their attack runs with precision. The dreadnought, its armor already severely compromised, struggled to return fire. The missiles fired from the aircraft continued to rain down, each explosion a testament to the ferocity of the assault.
The missiles seamlessly detached from the mounts located below the wings from the hornets, LRASM after LRASM flying towards the ship. The missiles, turned and twisted, bending against the air to hit their target. The missiles lit up the night, their rocket propellants indicating the fight which was going on.
They impacted into the bow of the ship, sending visible amounts of crewmen flying, and multiple fires starting. As more and more impacted the ship, the sheer amount of explosives had basically caused the thick armoured hull to disintegrate, shredding the entire ship, leaving it crippled and in the midst of sinking to the ocean floor.
The air over the Pacific was charged with the adrenaline of combat, the dark waters illuminated by the fiery wreckage of the USS Thomas Hudner. The US Navy's F-35Bs and EA-18G Growlers circled above, maintaining a vigilant patrol. Captain Robert J. "Fallo" watched the destruction unfold from the bridge of the USS Enterprise, his knuckles white on the railing as he absorbed the gravity of the situation.
"Captain," the bridge officer called out, his voice strained but steady, "we're getting multiple incoming transmissions from the strike package. The fighters are reporting hits on the dreadnought. It's heavily damaged and it's sinking now."
"Understood," Captain Robert replied, his gaze locked on the smoldering remnants of the destroyer. "Maintain the current course and keep those aircraft up. We need to gather as much intel as we can."
The bridge of the USS Enterprise was a hive of activity as the crew worked to manage the escalating situation. Captain Robert J. "Fallo" stood at the command console, his attention divided between the tactical display and the ongoing communications from the strike group.
"Captain," the communications officer called out, "we've received a priority signal from the White House. The President is requesting a live update on the situation."
Robert nodded sharply, releasing an exasperated sigh. "Patch it through."
The screen flickered to life, displaying the stern face of President Vanner. His expression was a mix of concern and resolve. "Captain, what's the status of the engagement?"
"Loss of all hands on USS Thomas Hudner. If your wondering, the enemy ship is gone, seems to be from the anomalous rift you sent us to investigate. A wormhole, or portal, or whatever science fiction term it is. One of our fighters report seeing an smaller supply ship heading back into the rift. Assuming this is true, it might actually be an portal. But for now, aircraft are currently patrolling the area, scanning for anymore enemy ships, and we're working to secure an perimeter." His voice remained steady, despite the fact that his strike group had sustained a large amount of losses since the war 4 years ago.
President Vanner's face grew more serious. "Ensure you gather as much intelligence as possible. We, well atleast I need to understand what we're dealing with. And be prepared for any potential escalation. We wanna know what we're dealing with, especially the defence secretary."
"Understood sir."
0400 Hours
USS Enterprise, Flight Deck
The flight deck was a scene of controlled chaos as men scrambled into their aircraft and prepared for their next sortie. Commander William J. Ault oversaw the launch of additional reconnaissance drones and fighter jets, to fufill his main goal of finding out the affiliation of the already-sunk dreadnought.
"Command, drones are airborne," one of the deck officers reported. "They're heading towards the wreckage site for detailed scans and surveillance."
"Excellent, have eyes on every angle. I want every bit of information possible. Feed me live continuous updates on the situation, and watch for any survivor or movement from that rift."
0530 Hours
USS Enterprise's Bridge
The first light of dawn began to break over the Pacific Ocean, casting a pale glow on the smoldering wreckage of the USS Thomas Hudner. Captain Robert reviewed the data streaming in from the reconnaissance drones.
"Jesus christ, how many did we lose? How much men did the rescue boats save?"
"None, sir. 330 total men were lost in the explosion. All hands lost. The destroyer suffered a magazine detonation."
Robert's face scrunched up, realising the severity of the loss. His knuckles becoming obviously painfully white like show as he gripped the railings.
"Send me their names. I'll be writing an letter to each one of their mothers."
"Aye, sir."
"Are they sending another carrier group to us as reinforcements?"
"Yes, they are, captain."
"Good," Captain Robert replied, his tone resolute. "We need to secure the area and prevent any more incursions. Give the remaining squadron leaders still on the carrier, the orders to launch constant fighter patrols."
"Understood, sir," the officer replied, and the message was relayed to the various departments on the ship.
The sky started to brighten as soon as reinforcements arrived. The sight of additional Navy vessels converging on the area provided a much-needed boost to the crew's morale. Aircraft carriers, destroyers, and support ships moved into position, forming a protective perimeter around the USS Enterprise and the wreckage site.
Amongst the new arrivals included the USS Ronald Reagan, a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier, and a contingent of Arleigh Burke-class destroyers. They quickly took up strategic positions, creating a robust defensive network around the area of engagement.
As soon as these ships arrived, the aviators who had been sent off so long ago had finally returned. Admist the flight deck, the F35Bs glided gently onto the steel surface, while the EA-18Gs had literally slammed their own airframes onto the flight deck, roughly catching the cables strung out to catch these jets.
As soon as Birkins and Alfred landed their EA-18G growler, they were met by an small crowd of fellow sailors and aviators. It was a show of camaraderie, that they had completed their first actual combat mission without any actual losses on their airwing. Evidently, their stressed and scrunched faces ceased to exist, the relief of having safely landed and completed their missions evident on their faces.
Ault walked out into the flight deck, and greeted the aviators in general as soon as they got out from their aircrafts. "Good to see you back. Get some rest. We'll need you sharp for the next few days."
"Thanks sir, we'll be ready."
0900 Hours – USS Enterprise, Briefing Room
Commander William J. Ault and his squadron gathered in the briefing room for a debriefing. The mood was a mix of utter gloom and apprehension as they reviewed the results of the previous night's engagement.
"Alright, aviators," Ault began, addressing his squadron. "I know we're still upset about the loss of all hands on hudner, But we've completed our initial engagement and secured the area. USS Thomas Hudner was lost, and we've confirmed that the enemy vessel was some shitty dreadnought from another world. Banner patterns and their colours dont match anything from ours, and their maps indicate they aren't from this earth. Currently, the skipper wants us to prepare for further encounters, since we're the only ones near this area, with the exception of our reinforcements, of course. All of you should get some sleep, since you've been stuck in your cramped seats since what, yesterday?"
"Any updates on the enemy ships or the rift?" Birkins asked.
"Not at all," Ault replied. "The drones provided some initial data, but currently all we know is that their not from here. For now, our focus is on maintaining a defensive posture and being ready for anything else that comes out. I have a feeling you all will be the tip of the spear, since you're the only ones who've come into contact with the enemy yet."
The aviators nodded understandingly, their expressions clearly drained of energy, yet alarmed enough to still remain cautious. They knew that their work was far from over and that the situation could evolve rapidly.
0800 Hours – USS Enterprise, Command Bridge
The command bridge was a hive of activity as the crew worked to analyze the data from the reconnaissance drones and the intelligence gathered from the engagement. The damage report from the USS Thomas Hudner had been completed, and the crew was preparing to brief the incoming reinforcements on the situation.
Captain Robert stood at the command console, reviewing the latest updates from the drones. The footage revealed that the dreadnought had sunk. The surrounding area was relatively clear of additional enemy vessels, but the potential for further conflict remained high.
"Captain," the communications officer reported, "reinforcements are fully operational and have established a secure perimeter around the area. Their coordinating with our forces to ensure the safety of the perimeter."
"Good. Relay an update to the Secretary of the navy, have him know that we have full control of the situation now. Got a feeling that this shit just kicked off a whole on war."