Spike wasn't very fond of this method of re-entry. He needed to balance his density just right; too low, and his suit would start to vaporize around him as he descended. Too high, and he'd fall too fast, hit the earth like a bullet and embed himself way too deep. And if he hit water... he'd need to reduce it so low he could float. He'd never had to do this before; but he'd had the mechanics of it explained before his first space mission.

As the ground hurtled up to meet him, he focused on one particular spot of jungle; no houses, no people, just greens, browns, reds, yellows; a vivid, beautiful patch of ground... and thought about the remains of the Zheng He; the crew deck and honestly most of the ship's mass slowly inching its way back to earth. It had already been set on the right course before the drives detached, so his wife should be just fine. But then... it was Desiree. The convoluted arrangement of their quarters so that she didn't accidentally break something important had been amusing; nothing but pure hull metal and vents for heat and water, purely mechanical, between it and the rest of the ship.

In the unlikely event something -did- hit the ship, that made it the most vulnerable part....

No. It should be fine. He was the one Apollo thought would die soon, not Desiree; and he'd outlived the god's predictions. Suddenly, thoughts vanished; he was almost there. He shifted his density; one and a half tons. Enough to survive terminal velocity. But... this was faster than that, wasn't it? He focused, hitting four tons just before impact; and could feel the earth rushing up... one moment it was light, vibrant green jungle.. the next... darkness.

He started clawing his way up; adjusting his density reflexively to help get more purchase as he made his way to the jungle floor; and found himself standing next to a 100+ foot tree that he had just felled by virtue of shearing through its trunk on impact. He sighed as he studied his surroundings; and opened up his handset. The sats were all down, he shouldn't have... GPS? The hell? GPS was working fine. Excellent signal strength. He experimented a moment, making a call, typing out the contact on his wrist.

"This is Director Thomes. Spike, is that really you? You have reception wherever the hell you are?"

"South america, sir. Sorry for the delay, I was making a few gravitic adjustments before I landed. The moon should be good now; though... technically earth now has two moons. Where do you want me?" He studied the map; he was only a few miles from shore. If the Navy were heading south already, should be an easy pickup.

"Honestly, son, I think we might need you for something more dangerous than the Jotun, though of course we'll have you on the ground. Our old friend, the Lord of Iron, has been up to some new tricks while you were away, and not only are you one of the few that can handle him... but honestly, just seeing and talking to you will probably be enough to throw him off his game. He's always hated you."

Spike blinked. "...Thompson more dangerous than the Jotun?"

"If you hadn't taken that fleet out in space... he might have been able to do the job. Head for the coast. We'll pick you up and talk it out."

***

Director Thomes walked along the deck of the Enterprise, feeling the cool sea air against his skin. He'd expected to die in this war. Apollo had told him as much, years ago. But then, Apollo had also told him his family should be safe in Virginia. And where was Apollo now?

A few flight crew were running around in what seemed, to him, lunatic fashion. He was sure they had some important job. And if they told him to get the hell out of the way, of course he would. There might be a jet, or a helicopter, or, god forbit, a spaceship coming down to land. President McCarthy was talking about salvaging the ashes. Bringing the United States back, not just to cover the continent, but to spread across the world; the few remaining mostly intact countries were still dealing with a plague, might very well find themselves wiped out, but were already trying to plot the conquest of the world.

Australia, Japan, a few other nations who had been completely intact, were simply quarantining, holding off outsiders, and preparing for after this disaster ended; aside from sending people and supplies to help fight the Jotun with no intention of any of it coming back home, or offering to setup labs to help research cures for the various bio-weapons. In an amusing twist, Australia was pardoning criminals with non-violent offenses and sending them out with volunteers to crew aid missions to what little was left of Europe.

If someday in the far future, Britain ended up being settled by the descendants of Australian criminals... Well. Thomes wouldn't be alive to see it. He looked southward, off the bow; one of the other carriers was visible. How many had survived? Four? Less than there used to be.

His orders from the President had been... terrible. The Chinese were, much as the US, using their advanced forces and metahumans for this assault on the Jotun; leaving their regulars behind. McCarthy wanted Thomes, and the fleet, to of course fight until the Jotun were gone... then for Thomes to make sure the Chinese navy never made it home. Preferably, if Spike could be convinced to cooperate, by using him to take them all out at once, or some other means that might plausibly be blamed on the Jotun. Something which would be every bit as devastating as using a nuke for the job.

He knew full well that the Chinese leaders were likely having similar thoughts. In a moment like this, if only one nation were still on its feet in the aftermath, it could easily keep all opposition crushed for decades to come; and if that one nation could start expanding into space while keeping the others in the dirt, possibly permanently.

He wondered how those colonies were faring, out there. He'd seen the reports; that it would take centuries of work, of moving rocks full of ice and raw materials, to make one of them truly livable; and that the other had some sort of alien ecosystem to contend with; native plants and animals that tasted amazing, but had absolutely no nutritional value; and hostile, venomous insects.. whose venom was apparently not harmful to humans at all, but was oddly enough nasty to dogs. No guarantees there; but if they truly managed to screw things up too badly here on earth, at least humanity had a chance.

He took a deep breath, and dropped down, sitting on the edge of the boat; and watched a light blue glow approaching the water's surface from below. He nodded, and tapped a button on his hip. His cell-phone went dead as the jammer kicked in; a soft buzzing of white noise filling the air, as the glowing figure of Wu Qi floated up, stopping just below the deck. "I received your message. What is it you wish to speak of privately? The Chinese navy is on its way south as we speak, and will soon be fighting alongside your own. We are having a few issues with deployment, as these ships have been essentially hiding in the harbor since the... Sea Titan... incident, but now that he has apparently granted us "Clemency" our forces are eager to prove themselves."

Thomes sighed. "Right now, I give it a pretty good chance humanity lives through this war. There might be breaches of quarantine, and I bet that things will go to hell once people realize how bad it really is. But I bet at least some places will make it through.... assuming enough of this fleet, and the armies it carries, makes it home." He looked to meet Wu Qi's gaze. "Individuals in two governments are trying to turn the Jotun war into World War Three. The plans range from either the two of them splitting the world between each other, or murdering the other while somehow surviving and leaving only the other left. I assume you've heard of this?"

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The man looked stoic; his features didn't change at all. "Of course. The leaders of the Chinese forces were directed to act in close concert with your forces... and the captains have been ordered to move the fleet within weapons range of your own, and to... support each other. I have also heard that certain officers have been ordered to, once the Jotun have been sufficiently reduced as to be a non-threat, turn their weapons on the US fleet and ensure it does not reach home. If timed appropriately, they believe they can win the day."

"They can't. But they can certainly kill quite a few of us on their way down, especially if they decide to nuke us when things go down. Our carriers can shoot down a nuke in flight, but if one of the Chinese vessels set one off while simply being close enough it could take out most of both fleets. And... our fleet won't let itself intermingle heavily enough for their conventional arms to get the job done, so, best case scenario for our side.. they start the fight too far away, and we use railguns to decisively end things. Best case for the Chinese side... both fleets go down in nuclear fire."

He sighed. "Assuming it gets that far. Both sides already know exactly what the other is thinking. Neither navy wants to do it, but will if ordered. So. Do you have any suggestions?"

Wu Qi noded. "Of course. The Jotun have landed in two sites in Antarctica. Hundreds of miles away. Your railguns have a range of roughly two hundred miles against a stationary target. One of these Jotun landing sites is within this range of shore... the other is not. Each of us... 'hears rumors' that the other side is considering exactly what our own side is planning, and reports it to our superiors. Then your force moves against the one within railgun range of shore, our own against the one that is not. We have no idea which is the tougher site to destroy... but we should have more than enough forces to handle each."

Thomes nods. "And... we'll have three titans. Spike is the more devastating at large-scale fights, so we'll send him at ours, and send Butcher and Valkyrie both after your own."

Wu Qi grimaces. "Ahh.. it would be preferred not. Butcher was involved in the death of much of the military leadership last year, and quite a few casualties; many involved were associates of him and Eyeball, in fact. I suspect it would be best if Valkyrie alone joined our forces... or even Spike. And if Eyeball is going to be among the attackers, it goes without saying that it would be best he not be within range of our forces; they will shoot him on sight. Or try to."

"That would probably work. Hell, sending Spike with your people should be fine. Having Eyeball with our ground forces would always be handy, and while those two seem to have buried the hatchet, you can never tell with mass-murdering psychopaths."

Wu Qi nods. "Of course. I will advise my people that others among the dead inform me your forces are going to ambush our naval forces if we remain too close, and recommend the change in tactics. If anyone refuses, I will accuse them of betraying us to the enemy. Hopefully this will not cause you too many problems."

Thomes laughed. "For the past ten years, the Director of Metahuman Affairs has also been the Secretary of Metahuman Affairs. Its a cabinet position. Its never happened before, but if that bunker were to suddenly go incommunicado because of an EMP strike, I'd be acting president until we got everyone out of the bunker; all of the survivors above me in the chain have been hiding down there since this started, unless someone survived that I'm unaware of. If he refuses to change his mind after I inform him that one of the dead has let us know the Chinese are onto us, and will be ready to take us down with a nuke the moment we start anything... I'll pretend to follow along until we lose all contact with the bunker, and have to presume them lost."

***

Eyeball moved through the labs; he'd been here fairly recently, but that was before aliens invaded. Most of his people had evacuated down to the bunker beneath the facility; one of several levels in the armored complex the tower rested on; but after the Navy had crushed the Jotun fleet... it had mostly gone back to business as usual. It didn't seem to sink in just how bad things were out in the world for most of them.

Only a handful had left La Famiglia since this had started; they were allowed to leave if they wanted, but anyone coming back had to be scanned for bio-weapons; and anyone trying to enter without being scanned was simply shot on sight as they tried to reach the island. He knew full well a few of his people had lost family to the nukes; and had Cobalt search up a list. From a purely pragmatic perspective, if he could track down and rescue any of their families, it would be great from both a loyalty perspective as well as, of course, the simple virtue of doing right by his employees. Money likely wouldn't have meaning for much longer, so if he wanted them to stay around, he needed to make sure they were aware he gave a damn.

So far, Bobby Russo had been his primary operative on this job; the kid still wasn't at his maximum potential, but could already break six hundred at a dead run, and with a radiation suit, was easily able to track people down, living or dead, in the radioactive wasteland that was the eastern seaboard. He had a few other contacts, now that Hephaestus's com network was in place.. and had started personally bringing the news, good or bad, to his employees for the past few hours. He'd need to board Dragonslayer for Antarctica in a couple of hours, but he had one, slightly different, bit of salvation to pass along.

He tapped on the door of the lab; Engineer was carefully working on something; Eyeball couldn't even see what the bald cyborg was doing from outside the room, but he was always doing something... and whatever it is, it looked like... a hat?

Eyeball walked up, glancing around the room. "Isolated room?"

Engineer glanced up. "Confirmed." The door slid shut. A soft humm filled the air with white noise. "Isolated, jammed, protected. What do you need?"

"Actually, its more a question of what do you need? I've seen some videos of the Emperor of Iron and his people... and I know the Jotun started the job. What do you have left?"

Engineer tilted his head. "Not many. My ability to meaningfully influence events is rapidly decreasing. The only units I have left are either buried, or with the forces moving south. I strongly suspect they will be destroyed once the Jotun are gone; they are only being tolerated for now because I have made no hostile actions, and the Jotun switch from their drone swarms to the disrupters when they see even a single one of my machines."

"Mmm. Have you made more units like Engineer? Ones that don't broadcast onto the network, so the sensors won't spot them?"

Engineer made a careful adjustment to the hat in front of him. "Yes. I have also built a series of Pale Ones utilizing random articles of clothing. A boot. A hat. They are far more limited than either my primary units or this isolated one, but with so many walking dead moving about, are achieving objectives without being noticed. My new network will be far more limited than the old one in its ability to coordinate... but it will be rebuilt."

Eyeball nodded. "Cool, cool. I've got a mission for you."

Engineer stopped, looking at Eyeball. "I have assisted you quite a bit over the years, and you have provided me assistance in return. My ability to accomplish missions going forward will be extremely limited, but I will listen to your request."

"Within the next hour and a half, I need you to fit all of the components needed to build a fabricator into its extradimensional space, and either personally board and pilot my ship, or get one of your units competent enough to start over from scratch into it."

Engineer set down the hat; it was a simple, bowler hat.. an amusing thing to be contrived to puppet a corpse. "...I can do this. For what purpose?"

"I'm reasonably certain you can escape into space while the battle is going on; pretend to get shot up during the fight. Everyone knows you exist now. Maybe your modified Pale Ones will work. Maybe models like you can avoid detection. Maybe not. If not, I'd prefer to still have you around. Dragonslayer should have enough fuel and power to get you started."

"...Confirmed. This is an acceptable plan. I must warn you, if the Jotun are using a disrupter, I will not be able to meaningfully contribute to the battle."

"Pop flares, fake your death, and run when you hit the field. We've got this without you, now. Not sure if we would if you hadn't shown up. If you didn't have units with the fleet, and the Jotun had hit the Navy with that drone swarm... We owe you. Once you're done with Dragonslayer, don't need it anymore, dump it somewhere I can find it. It'll help if anyone has questions, later on. Don't want anybody spending years searching for that thing and accidentally finding you."