Spike stared out at the distant dots of the moving ships from the shoreline, hand on his communicator, watching them sail east, out of sight. He was supposed to be heading for McMurdo; there was a transmission that seemed to indicate, somehow, the base had survived; the last report was that it had been completely wiped out, nothing but ice and rock there now. If this were true, and the navy managed to get itself killed, he'd have a place to stay until a boat north could be arranged. If not... well. This was going to be a really irritating week. Hell, he hadn't even been here two days, and the lack of sunset was already irritating. Somehow more irritating than spending time on a starship. Probably because there was always, at least, a shutter to close if need be.

As he checked his GPS, and turned to head back to the chopper, he noticed something strange; a vivid green dot, floating through the air, heading northwards. He paused for a moment to call it in. Nothing he would need to deal with, but wouldn't hurt for the fleet to keep an eye on it.

***

Eyeball glanced around the command deck, at the Captain and his team... then at Thomes, who was looking visibly more.. full, healthy, capable... with each passing moment. He looked like like he was in his forties than a veteran of the second world war. And a healthy forties, at that. He rested his hand on a console. "I know your plan is simple. Gather in formation, let the Emperor come to you, and nail him with massed railgun fire as he approaches. You'll be mostly missing, at first. But as he gets closer, you'll be able to start scoring some hits... and, hopefully, enough to kill him by the time he gets close. I've seen it. It might work; or it might get him to dive underwater and take the fleet from below. I've got an alternative."

He held up a small device; and his 40mm revolver, aiming the weapon at the ceiling. "Okay, so. The basic idea was Apollo's, but we can do the same thing here. You all know my powers, and how I can pick the perfect spot to fire to kill the target; or if a one-shot kill isn't possible, to damage it. I've got a flash drive with a piece of software on it. You load it on every ship with a railgun; no need for the rest. Keep the guns ready to fire... and I act as a living target designator."

He turned to Thomes. "If you think you can keep a ship safe from him for a while... we can advance on one ship. I can use this as a laser designator, pick the perfect spot to deal the most damage... and we fire as one. If we can get all the railguns to fire at the same time, at the target it pick... we should be able to take it out, in just a couple of volleys. I know the railguns have a fairly extreme range, but for my powers to work effectively, we'll need to get the railguns..." He glanced off to the left at his HUD, and the helpful information displayed. The current-gen anti-Jotun railguns mounted on these carriers fired a spike at over six kilometers per second. "Within sixty klicks of the target."

Thomes looked at him thoughtfully. "Interesting. We can coordinate fire, keep the fleet mostly safe, and it has a good shot at working. We already have our own software for the job, however."

Eyeball smiled. "Of course you do. My friend Engineer, however, has a targeting computer based on salvaged Ascension tech. He'd prefer if you would donate the remains of the units that were on-board when the battle ended, but even without them, he can upgrade your ability to hit a target dramatically. Possibly even get you a bit more launch speed. We will need to test-fire each weapon at least once after the upgrade to make sure it all works properly."

Thomes chuckled. "Go ahead for the other ships in the fleet. While I can likely guide the projectiles to all hit one spot on my own, it would be best if I could focus on defense. I think we'll do this from the Enterprise herself, so she won't need any upgrades. Have one of those guns at point-blank range for maximum effect."

"..Can you defend a ship this big?"

"Only one way to find out."

Eyeball rolled his eyes inside the helmet. "Yes. Through testing. Preferably extensive testing, but just having a few of our sister ships fire test shots would at least help."

***

Gabriel looked out over the fleet of warships arrayed together not that far from the Antarctic shore; a glowing, majestic, angelic figure that... was seriously regretting his lightweight, toga-like attire here in the frigid arctic air. Apparently there were limits to his ability to tolerate extreme cold. He'd missed the battle, it seemed. The war was long over, his acquisition of these blades was, at this time, likely pointless. He smiled to himself as he flew closer; the Reagan was a familiar ship to him. He'd met some of her crew while they were on shore leave in the past. He started to aim for that one; while the radiation from the swords had ruined his communications equipment, he could always just fly up and talk. Hopefully they wouldn't shoot him down.

***

In the control tower, a technician called out, turning to the captain. "Sir! We've got a nuclear warning, but its... off. Less than three hundred miles per hour, and slowing as it approaches."

The captain frowned. "Is it on radar?"

"Not really, sir. Whatever it is can't have much metal to it."

He looked out over the ocean; and saw the visible green glow approaching, with a faint tinge of gold. "The hell? Thats not radiation. Or at least, not only radiation. Get it on a scope."

After a few moments, one of the other techs started laughing. The captain turned to him with a frown. "Whats going on? Can you see it?"

"Yessir. Though I suspect Lt. Sharpe down in engineering can give you more info. She's had... up-close experience with the incoming object."

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"..Should I take that to mean its a friendly?"

"Apologies, sir. Flying metahuman, Japanese. Goes by the name of Gabriel. Don't know him on a professional level, sir, I've only met him a few times, and was drunk all of them."

The captain nodded, and picked up the intercomm. "Security, this is the Captain. Probable non-hostile flying meta-human about to board. Emphasis on probable, be ready, this thing is radioactive for some reason."

Gabriel carefully aligned himself with the deck, as he settled into place; a few marines were waiting, rifles raised, as well as a red-headed woman he didn't recognize in a DMA body-armor suit. He held up a hand in warning as the woman started to walk closer. "My apologies, friends, but do not approach unless you are highly resistant to radiation. I will only alight here briefly to speak; my equipment all seems to be failing while I am close to the swords. I have been flying around like mad, looking to assist, and regardless of where I go, the battle seems to be over. Is the war truly won? Should I simply fly back home?"

The woman smiled. "I'm fairly rad-safe myself, its why I'm leading this detail. The Jotun do appear to have been largely dealt with, though quite a few fled the final engagement and are still being hunted down. If you're allied forces, we also have an upcoming engagement that we may need all the help we can get with."

Gabriel nodded slowly. "I'm actually a citizen of La Famiglia of late, which is sometimes Allied, sometimes not... but... haven't been able to call my boss since I picked up these things. I don't suppose you could reach Eyeball for me?"

***

The Dreadnaught looked... sleek. Powerful. What had once been a rough mass of metal now seemed to be a smooth, sleek, wedge-shaped craft of dark blue, bristling with weapons emplacements. Beneath it on the Antarctic shore was enough scrap metal and discarded components to build a town; or a whole fleet of smaller craft. To the distant watchers, it could be seen testing out its propulsion; the tentacles shifting and flailing about. The ship itself bobbing up, down, left, right; being put through its paces as it prepared.

Buried deep inside, seated at his throne, the Emperor awoke. Even as he slept, the telepaths had been able to use his powers; in some method he didn't really understand; and help Dr. Kline and his engineers move conduits, melt hull plates and forge them together. The outermost hull was over 100 meters thick before any of the corridors could be reached; without the Emperor stretching out to open them, the force required to reach the inside... was absurd. Just how absurd?

He stretched out, lazily, and pulled to his feet; a single wire, a voluntary shackle, dangling down from his ankle to maintain his connection to the surrounding metallic behemoth, and stepped over to the dining table he kept in the throne room. Even as he approached, a cook emerged; setting down a plate of... bacon. Steak. Salmon. He tilted his head, glancing at the chef. "Couldn't pick a theme today, Maurice?"

The man bowed low, pressing his forehead against the table. "Wasn't sure what you would prefer when you awoke, your majesty... so I cooked a bit of each of your favorites and... just kept cooking until you awoke. This is the freshest that was available, right off the stove; the telepaths and techs have been eating the rest."

He nodded as he began to eat. "Ahh. I take it you're afraid that if I don't have a meal ready the moment I sit, I might crush you, yes? And simply decided to make best use of the food while minimizing the risk. Not bad. Overly paranoid, but not bad." He smiled. "I'm the Emperor of Iron. A man of action. Not some spoiled trust-fund brat. If I oversleep, and my breakfast is cold, that's my own fault. Now, if my men starve because you wasted food, then I will be upset."

Maurice lifted his head, blinking. "Oh. My apologies, your majesty. I thought the previous cook had been... removed.. for displeasing you."

"The previous cook was removed because I didn't like his food. If the Jotun had not destroyed his home, he would be home now. Instead, I suspect he is starting a new establishment somewhere in Africa." He sighed. "Everyone knows that you don't execute your employees just because they do poorly. It discourages the others from coming to work for you, and even worse, hurts morale. I don't want MY people to be afraid of me. I want the enemy to be afraid of me. I want my own people to be encouraged when I arrive... and my enemies to piss themselves in fear as they struggle to escape. Sit. Eat with me. Enjoy your work; you cooked too much."

He glanced off to the side at the guards waiting at the door. Two of Almasi's men. "Any responses to our ultimatum?"

One of the men stepped forward. "Of course, your majesty. We have word from quite a few national leaders. Requests for negotiations, refusals, and of course abject surrenders."

"And the ones that matter?"

"President Thomes has indicated that if we have the audacity to move against the US Navy, he will 'put us at the bottom where we belong, just like he did to the Jotun'. The Chinese have, indicated that, if the Asian King could be selected from among their own senior metahumans, and you assist with ensuring India and Pakistan fall in line, they may be amenable an agreement regarding the 'Middle Kingdom' extending across Asia as one of your own territories."

The Emperor laughed, shaking his head. "This, in essence, is why China will remain intact in the end. Pragmatism. Harsh quarantine measures that have killed thousands, but will save millions. Looking at every crisis as an opportunity to improve their position for the future. And America... well. I doubt there will be much left of her after I'm through."

He finished his breakfast; despite his assurances, Maurice was still too frightened to take more than a bite or two in front of the Emperor; and returned to his throne; extending his arms into the pools of gel.

He glanced up at the door as Doctor Kline stepped in. He looked... exhausted, his dark face soaked with sweat. The Emperor frowned. "Is everything prepared, doctor?"

"Yes, your majesty. All of the reactors are up and running. We have one of the Chinese nuclear reactors powering our systems here in the main deck, the Jotun reactors powering the engines... over a hundred meters thick of armor in every direction from here. If we were struck by a nuke, the armor plates would compress together, a few meters of the outer hull would flash-vaporize... and we'd keep flying. The Dreadnaught, as she now flies, can survive hundreds of railgun strikes, a barrage of nukes... I've run various simulations, and the list of possible threats is short."

"Excellent work, Doctor. What would that list be?"

"The Titans, the.. 'Gods'... and a family of magnetism-wielding metahumans from south america. I have yet to find any reasonable ways to counteract them."

"Then I suppose we'll need to try for the unreasonable. After we've dealt with the fleet, we'll need to look into magical countermeasures. Excellent work. You seem tired. Would you prefer to accompany us for the assault on the fleet, or to return home, get some rest?"

The doctor perked up at the offer. "Oh! Please, your majesty. I... haven't slept in a few days, and its hard to sleep here. The Dreadnaught... its... the most frightening thing I've ever witnessed, much less been inside."

The Emperor gave a low chuckle; and felt through the vast bulk of his throne. "Then depart now. We'll be moving in on the enemy fleet momentarily... and we might get shaken up a bit as we crush them."