The sky carrier hovered silently in the ionosphere at least 180 kilometers above Earth, using stealth technology and solar radiation-induced ion disturbances to hide its trajectory from U.S. military radar detection. The void engine barely maintained enough thrust to prevent the vessel from being pulled down by gravity. Victoria Hand stood by the bridge's observation window for a long time—through the thick armor-glass capable of reflecting ultraviolet radiation, she could directly observe the vast blackness of outer space and the twinkling stars beyond.
Ever since the Latverian war began, she had been stationed aboard this mobile command center. Yet each time she saw the majestic expanse of the universe, she felt a deep sense of fear—such grandeur and depth. She clutched the bridge's railing tightly, holding her breath, as if letting go might cause her to fall into that dark blue starfield. For humanity, was this galaxy, this universe, too vast? Do we truly need to reach into the stars, to spend our lives exploring this void? What kind of courage had it taken for her sovereign to raise his head and proclaim humanity's march toward the galaxy? What kind of burning idealism and passion—what kind of arrogance and valor—compelled him to lead all of humankind down such a dark, endless path?
Victoria Hand finally realized the greatest difference between her commander and ordinary people—courage. He was sharing that courage with everyone. Each ordinary person would inherit his strength. Only the brave could lift their heads to face the unknown stars and believe humanity would one day rule the galaxy. It sounded like a madman's ravings, yet it unmistakably ignited a romantic fire in the hearts of men. The path would be strewn with thorns, but even if his feet were bloodied, her sovereign still walked it without hesitation. That courage—more than his foresight, intelligence, or strength—was perhaps what was most worthy of admiration.
"Miss Hand."
"I see it." Victoria Hand pressed her headset. At first, only orange-red sparks flickered in the black void outside the window, but those specks quickly approached and magnified. As the assault shuttles plunged from space into the dense atmosphere, their thick ablative armor created blazing plasma envelopes that cut off all communications. Among the descending fleet, five shuttles bearing the Martian Foundry's ID numbers stood out—larger than standard gunboats and visually distinct.
"Commence communications jamming. Deploy drone swarm," Victoria ordered according to the operations plan. "Activate strike systems."
"Yes, ma'am!" the weapons officer responded, bringing the detection and fire-control radars online from low-power standby mode.
The sensor systems faithfully displayed the U.S. carrier fleet floating on the Atlantic's surface. The weapons officer, known colloquially as the "gunner," calibrated the targeting data, locking the sky carrier's underbelly firepower on carrier deck aircraft, close-in defense systems, radar arrays, and missile silos.
"Strike systems ready. We're cleared to fire."
Victoria ran her fingers along the hawk emblem on her collar. "Fire! Blow them into the ocean!"
With her command, the bridge lights dimmed. Auxiliary and mini plasma reactors kicked online. Thirty seconds after radar suppression, the first strike hit. The main laser cannon beneath the sky carrier fired instantly. A missile destroyer erupted into flames in the blink of an eye. The high-powered laser sliced the ship in half, triggering onboard ammo explosions and a secondary detonation in the fuel reserves. Thick black smoke billowed upward. Minor explosions rippled out, and the broken vessel, ablaze, slowly sank.
Before soldiers aboard could even process where the attack came from, hundreds of guided autocannon shells rained from above, striking the Atlantic carrier group's critical systems with pinpoint precision. It was as if a fiery storm from heaven had engulfed the fleet. Detection systems—including the AN/SPY-1 3D phased array radar of the Aegis Combat System—suffered various levels of physical damage.
Then came the drone swarm. Over a hundred unmanned craft equipped with smart munitions descended like raptors upon rabbits, raining dense firepower on the fleet. They destroyed the vertical launch systems of three Arleigh Burke-class destroyers. A Virginia-class nuclear attack submarine dove immediately after the first wave, yet still suffered hull separation and exterior damage. Once their mission was complete, the drones entered patrol mode, establishing a 30-kilometer close-defense perimeter around the fleet, sealing off potential reinforcements.
The gunboats that pierced the atmosphere descended at near-vertical angles. Then their vertical thrusters kicked in, allowing them to level out and roar over the ships horizontally. Gene-enhanced soldiers, equipped with power armor and jetpacks, leapt from rear hatches, wielding explosive guns and chainswords, storming the decks of missile destroyers and cruisers. With devastating firepower and shoulder-fired missiles, they laid waste to all targets—personnel and equipment alike.
Though some soldiers onboard organized a counterattack, the gene-enhanced warriors, protected by their advanced armor and immense strength, ignored everything except anti-tank weaponry. Assault shuttles carrying heavy armored transports dropped vehicles onto the USS George H. W. Bush's deck. Each APC deployed ten gene-enhanced warriors. After unloading, the transports pushed forward alongside them, their twin-barrel laser turrets and assault cannons tearing through everything on deck to clear the way for follow-up waves.
The war had begun at maximum intensity.
Led by Imperial Guard Konstantin, the deck assault force used shield-bearing warriors as vanguard to break through defensive fire. Missile-wielding warriors and APCs targeted aircraft parked on the flight deck.
They had no intention of entering the ships through normal means. For power-armored warriors, the narrow passageways inside were unsuitable. Konstantin had several gene warriors equipped with fusion-based weapons—ultra-high-temperature deuterium-tritium jets—cut straight through the thick deck to open direct strike routes. This tactic was also used on three destroyers. Originally used in Martian factories for cutting metal, these fusion weapons had been miniaturized for use by troops, ships, and vehicles. They were among the most effective and reliable anti-armor weapons available, in various gun and bomb formats, granting the warriors complete freedom within the ships' tight confines.
Once the outer deck and hull were breached, the warriors threw in shaped-charge grenades.
These anti-armor grenades utilized the Munroe effect to generate high-temperature, high-pressure metal jets that shredded fortifications—commonly used in HEAT warheads since WWII. Afterward came smoke and flashbangs. The warriors stormed the interior to seize control. The Eternal City and Latveria needed manpower—and trained prisoners of war made the best population source.
Judging by how the U.S. treated retired soldiers, even a missing trooper wouldn't prompt much response from the military.
The five transports landed in sequence on the carrier deck. From the ramp doors strode five heavily equipped fortress-class combat robots. Their bulky steel limbs, semi-circular alloy heads resembling old astronaut helmets, and embedded detection arrays made them look both archaic and terrifying. Their ion shields could deflect solid and energy-based attacks, granting them time to retaliate. Their melee weapons could incinerate or pulp any nearby enemy, even armored vehicles.
Two "Battering Ram" explosive cannons deployed from their shoulders. Larger than the heavy explosive guns used by gene warriors, these featured advanced recoil-dampening and complex ammo systems, giving the fortress-class bots deadly ranged and mobile capabilities.
The name said it all—designed to breach enemy fortifications. Their targeting systems and onboard computers also enabled short-range anti-air capability. The firepower was overkill. When the bots received orders to bombard the carrier's bridge, five Battering Rams unleashed full barrages and completed the mission in just twenty seconds. Flaming armor-piercing rounds turned the bridge into an inferno. With gene warriors already able to destroy all aircraft on deck, this was excessive. The Martian Foundry commander redirected the robots to nearby destroyers to assist in clearing enemy forces.
Victoria Hand stared at the mission timer. As the designated strike time approached, she grew increasingly anxious.
Her battlefield was only one-third of the total war plan. The War Council's goal was to eliminate the U.S. Navy presence in Europe completely. No one had ever so brazenly attacked a modern U.S. naval fleet. Though she'd already disabled the missile systems, this conflict still had the potential to trigger a thermonuclear war. This was the Eternal City's true declaration of war against the United States. Every cog in the war machine was now turning at full speed—every department had to give everything they had to fulfill their sovereign's expectations.
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