As Director Thomes looked over the latest communication from Wu Qi, the fleets were all approaching their ultimate destiny; pre-arranged coordinates off the Antarctic coast where they would gather; and the various meta-humans and ground support for the coming invasion would be arriving by cargo plane. The full might of the US Navy; anchored by all eight of its surviving Aircraft carriers, had formed up, and was sailing for the tip of Africa; aiming for their objective; railgun range of the northern-most Jotun encampment.
The British fleet accompanying it bore a somber note; the sailors represented the bulk of the surviving British population. The combined crew of the two carriers; which, like their American compatriots, had railguns fed by their nuclear reactors and could thus contribute to the extreme-range bombardment; combined to hold over 4,000 personnel at present. Aside from scattered individuals in bunkers, it was not believed Britain, Scotland, or Ireland had more than a few hundred survivors.
The combined US/British fleet; along with the single French carrier which also had its own railgun; would all take positions together at the antarctic coast; while the remainder of the Allied fleet would join the Germans, Chinese, Russians, and the remainder of the French fleet at the other location; while they lacked railguns, many members of this fleet had cruise missiles that should be able to strike their targets... if the enemy point defense could be overcome.
The plan was simple enough; Thomes had put much of it together himself, though he wasn't certain how much of it would survive contact with the enemy. The fleets would form up, and prepare captured disrupters in the event the enemy deployed drones. The three Titans; Butcher and Valkyrie for the easternmost point, Spike for the more southwestern location; would move in, in the air as much as possible; and strike in person, providing both disruption of the enemy positions.. and targeting data for the railguns and cruise missiles. It was believed the enemy had sufficient massed point defense at each location to make the missiles useless; but both fleets would launch massive volleys regardless, including a few tactical nukes. If one got through.. then the fight would be essentially over.
While this bombardment was ongoing, the navies would be providing support for transport ships carrying ground vehicles; heavy assault tanks of primarily Russian and US design, built specifically to fight the Jotun; which would begin advancing, alongside squads of Metahuman soldiers; for the US side, primarily just DMA and La Famiglia forces, while on the Chinese side they would be a far more multinational group; while Spike would be the only US national fighting on that side, the number of meta-humans involved would actually be greater than the other attack.
Between the shorter distance to shore, and the railguns, it was believed the northern assault would be over within several hours; the tanks would arrive in 2 hours or so, and it was hoped that the sustained fire and attack by the Titans would lead to it just being a clean-up operation; with closer-in ground artillery deployed to intensify the bombardment. Aircraft would be launched to interdict any attacks by Jotun Attack Craft; and would precede the ground forces in, bombing targets among the Jotun immediately after the artillery fire began to arrive.
Finally, of course, the meta-humans, tanks, and special forces troops would advance; accompanied by those of the fallen who still had sufficient power to join this fight. Apparently the ritual of Ragnarok was a fairly short-term thing; the weakest spirits had already begun to fade.
A carefully orchestrated attack intended to brutally shatter the Jotun, and then crush them in a single wave of force.
On the western side, a massed group of tanks, artillery, metahumans, and special forces troops from various nations would advance; more tanks and meta-humans than the US had available to deploy; and while they wouldn't have railgun support to assist them... it was an honest question as to whether Spike would be able to handle the encampment by the time they arrived. Antarctica might have a new crater by the time the battle was over, and they might need to have him help adjust the moon's orbit... again... but the current odds were that Spike could single-handedly deal with that group, and the other armies would simply be on clean-up detail of fleeing survivors.
He smiled. This should all be over soon. He could retire, let his replacement take over the agency, and the politicians sort out rebuilding the country. His cabin in Alaska hadn't been impacted by any of this nonsense so far; if any of his family were still alive, he could take them there til the chaos settled down. If it ever did. It would be nice to have his biggest worry be how to prepare whatever animal he was going to be eating that week.
A young ensign stepped around the corner, saluting. Thomes glanced at his nametag; Ramirez. A young, overly enthusiastic hispanic man whose perfectly pressed uniform seemed... almost offensive, somehow. "Son. Are you one of my Metas?"
The young man shook his head.
"Salute your Navy officers and superiors. I'm nominally in charge of this mixed-force nonsense as we've got metas, navy, air force, army, and the whole ball of wax, but I don't fall anywhere in your chain of command. If I wanted you to do something, I'd need to speak with your Captain, and he'd have to decide it was a good idea. Its not a bad idea to listen to me, but I'm not your boss."
The man gulped, but held the salute. "Sorry, sir. But... That's not quite the case anymore. We've received a message from Washington. Your position in the line of Succession has moved up. I've been asked to bring you to the bridge; we'll need to get you sworn in as President."
Thomes thought for a moment. The president must have ordered Ripper to do something stupid, and he sabotaged the comms equipment. This was hardly ideal. "Let me guess. We've suffered a communications failure and we need a commander until things have come back online?"
"That's a negative, sir. I don't know the exact details, but I've been informed that when your agent arrived, the air circulation system for the bunker had broken down; the bombs had already collapsed the ventilation systems, and the air was becoming toxic. He rescued everyone small enough to get out quickly; but that didn't include the President. As I understand it, the President officially made you his Vice President before he passed, just in case someone else in the line is recovered from the ruins; he didn't want things to be... muddled."
Stolen novel; please report.
Thomes stopped, staring at the young man. Thomes was over ninety years old. Extremely healthy for his age, possibly as a result of being a metahuman, yes. He would likely get a decade or two out of his retirement before he finally passed on, maybe even longer. Doesn't it need an act of congress to change the Vice President? He stopped. Maybe it did. But right now, the house and senate only had a total of six members between them. Or zero.
"...Alright, fine. Lets head for the bridge. We'll get this over with and get on to the fight." He needed a VP. This was just supposed to be a temporary gig to give him the authority to lead the fleet. Not forcing him to rebuild the country.
***
A thin cloud of silver dusted the continent of Antarctica; disposable drones floating overhead, maintaining sight and communications between the two Jotun bases; as they prepared for war.
At the primary landing site, not far south of the coast of the frigid continent, they'd been establishing a base of operations and working on repairs on the starships for days now; and had a series of machines currently digging in, establishing walls, layers of defenses, and mass-producing more of the billions of drones the Jotun used frequently in combat. Jotun himself was in command here; they were melting trenches deep in the ice, removing anti-missile defenses from the ships and emplacing them behind armored positions, and even using the ships themselves to create a series of armored positions... around a single Assault Ship.
One ship was being fully repaired; stealing parts from dozens of others to get it flightworthy; and would be escaping as soon as it was complete. It would skim the planet's atmosphere until it was ready... and then enter hyperspace for the long voyage home.
Jotun had no plans to be on it. Soon, he would be dead, and his chosen heir, Shaqtun, would be in charge; after careful deliberation, he'd decided that particular daughter had seemed best fit for the challenges the kingdom would soon face. His miserable failure here, much like his father's tens of thousands of years ago when the Titans had slain him, was a clear sign he was not the proper ruler, and a son similar to himself would likely be a poor choice as well. He only hoped she would forgive him for handing him a kingdom without most of its fleet; and be able to bluff and hold things together long enough to build a new one.
The enemy had a weapon capable of wiping out a fleet all at once. It had Titans. His men were tunneling; spreading throughout the continent, building redoubts, bringing enough supplies to establish a new base-camp wherever they went; and each group had at least one breeding-age female.
It was... difficult to convince them to go. But if these camps were able to remain hidden, and the various plagues and bio-weapons ravaged this world as Chain had anticipated... someday they may be able to convert this continent, and perhaps the northernmost parts of the world as well, into Jotun colonies.
He climbed atop his own ruined flagship; most of its parts already gone, a skeletal mass across the crater that formed the base. The other base would be launching three ships; its fleet was more intact; but so long as one of the four got out; and that weapon couldn't be something that could be rapid fired or used on a whim, or they would have used it against the fleet on its way in, so he felt that was likely; the kingdom would still know who its king had chosen for an heir. Soon, he would be dead. The Jotun would be gone; and the Shaqtun would arise.
Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't make the enemy pay for every single Jotun life. After all; if he gave up too easily, they might wonder why, and start looking for all of his missing troops.
***
The Liaoning looked... immaculate. Spike looked around at the wide open deck, the hundreds of gathered soldiers, the aircraft; most of it looked brand new. Unused. Many of the crew seemed..clumsy. Uncertain. He had honestly expected better from the Chinese navy, but then... they'd been on a forced shore leave for quite a while now. Their government had likely had them doing other things.
Three men approached Spike where he sat on the deck; the familiar, glowing figure of Wu Qi, and two generals he didn't recognize. They nodded at him; and he nodded back in turn, pulling to his feet. "Gentlemen. I've been ordered to support your operation however you would prefer, and that, if possible, I am to eliminate the entire Jotun encampment on my own and just leave the stragglers to you. If you can get me close, I can handle the rest."
Wu Qi smiled. "I have seen what you accomplished in space. Between the two of you, you and this 'Eyeball' made all of them regret having laid eyes on our star. If only this 'Chain' had never existed, we would be looking at a very celebratory world tomorrow. You would be globally renowned. We would have parades in your honor." He sighed.
"Instead, as I fade away from this world, I suspect you will merely be at the beginning of a long, terrible road to rebuild... and to survive. Whatever aid I can provide you, I will. For those of my companions that venture forth to Hel instead, I hope this world remains for many a century."
Spike chuckled. "All well and good. I've been famous and renowned for a long time now. What's the plan? I prefer to keep above about two tons... that's effective against most armor-piercing rounds, and surprisingly enough even more effective against most Jotun weapons. If I can keep above five or six, I should be able to just walk around their camp treating them like bugs."
Wu Qi tilted his head. "I'm familiar with your powers. And apparently your limitations are mostly about not wanting to destroy the planet."
"It's... a concern. If I had been here when Chain first arrived, the aliens could have, if they didn't want me to wipe it out entirely, just had me turn a giant chunk of the planet into a crater... the storms and tsunamis would have been devastating. My boss did the projections once... we'd be talking about destruction of one continent entirely, whichever one I was on, and pretty much everything within a few hundred miles of the coast being eradicated by a devastating series of tsunamis. So... better than 90% of our world's population."
"Perhaps we need to get you to the Jotun homeworld, instead. Be less concerned about that. Regardless. I'm given to understand we will have an initial volley of missiles launched alongside a group of aircraft... there to defend a transport helicopter. We are honestly expecting it to get shot down; this will get you as close as possible."
"..I don't mind doing a little walking. They can drop me off outside of firing range, I'll head in from there."
Wu Qi sighed. "The Jotun aren't just sitting there. Whatever they're doing, whether its repairing their ships, building a bomb, we don't want them to finish. You represent the heaviest hitter on the planet. The moment you arrive, you'll be ruining their day, and can crush whatever iis going on. It might very well be worth it to lose a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand men if we could get you there, right now, fighting those Jotun."