———
United 6756, US Airspace
August 7th, 2025
Joshua looked around, trying to figure out what the fuck just happned. Looking at the front he immediately gripped the controls and pulled hard on it: The altimeter had its arms turning circles and the altitude dropping in each passing second.
“Sink Rate, Sink Rate.” The warning blared at him, also waking his co-pilot whos name was Fred as Joshua pulled hard on the controls.
Fred did the same, the ground was mere inches away before they were able to stay level.
Joshua looked at the altitude meter, 300 ft. He immediately started climbing, terrified at the aspect if he hadn't woke up at that time.
“Cap, what the hell?” His friend looked at him in confused and heavy breaths.
“Contact Chicago and notify them,” Fred nodded and started calling out in the radio.
“Chicago Center, United 6756.” Silence answered
“Chicago Center, United 6756. Do you copy?” Silence yet again.
Joshua looked at him in confusion, “Why aren't they answering?”
Fred shook his head, “I'll check on the crew and passengers, after that dive…”
Fred exited the cockpit, and Joshua this time called on the radio. “Chicago Center, United 6756, do you hear me?”
Joshua kept trying until he was tired, he checked his altitude finding himself relieved that it's 5000 and climbing.
———
Truax Field, Wisconsin
115th Air National Guard wing was just lastly lifting off their F35's when communications were restored, everyone on base was asleep just hours prior but now they were getting busy.
As last of the F35A's disappeared from veiw, the F16's taxied on the runway in pairs.
Inside the cockpit of the lead Falcon, Major. James “Puker” Wesley, halted on the runway. Making sure there is space for his wingman, he glanced around from the cockpit.
“All F-16's, Scramble Scramble; Intercept unresponsive flights. Ginger 2-1 and Ginger 2-2, cleared for Unrestricted Climb. You will be vectored by Skymax,” The sound of their callsign got Puker's attention.
“Ginger 2-1 and 2-2, Rolling.” He reported..
The falcons made for the skies seconds later, afterburner visible in the skies from the ground.
“Ginger 2-1, This is SkyMax. Turn heading 189, adjust to angels 9, you are to intercept a 757 United Airlines flight, it is currently climbing steady.” The E-3 or Skymax was 30,000ft above, loitering and guiding aircraft.
“This is Ginger 2-1, turning to 220, adjusting to angels 9, Copy.” He replied.
His wingman turned to the required heading almost identically, the two metallic birds disturbing the quiet sky.
In the cockpit, the Major squinted and in the distance he could see a speck, said speck was climbing. Puker looked for the right frequency before issuing a order to his wingman, “Get to his six-oclock position, maintain distance. I'll contact him,”
His wingman turned away, following his orders as he pulled up right beside the 757.
Changing his frequency he looked inside the cockpit of the 757, “United Airlines Flight, this is Ginger 2-1 of 115th Air National Guard, i am to your port side. Do you Copy?”
“Ginger 2-1, United 6756, I see you, what is the procedure?” The pilot's voice was calm.
“You will be escorted, failure to comply will be met with force. Do you copy?”
“We will be escorted, failure to comply will be met with force, I copy Ginger 2-1,” The pilot was clearly annoyed from the sudden warning, but followed anyway.
Changing frequency he contacts the E3, “Skymax, Ginger 2-1, We have established contact with United 6756. Awaiting further orders.”
After a short while Skymax answered, “Ginger 2-1, Skymax, escort flight 6756 to Quad City International Airport, also inform that emergency services are being notified.”
“Skymax, I copy; Escort flight 6756 to Quad City International. Out,” Puker looked at the map, finding what he needs he changed frequency again, “United 6756, you will be escorted to Quad City International, emergency services has been notified and will meet you at the runway.”
“Affirmative Ginger 2-1,” The pilot answered.
The three aircraft turned right, leaving a quiet blue sky undisturbed behind.
———
USS Gonzalez, North Atlantic
August 7th, 2025
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
The USS Gonzalez sliced through the waves, her aging hull holding firm. The ship itself was old, but not that old for it to be decommissioned.
Up in the bridge Captain Sarah Chen surveyed the vastness of the sea. This morning, they had been immediately ordered to patrol at the 200km mark, the US-claimed territorial waters.
Last night, Sarah had to slept on the ship because the Gonzalez was in port getting refueled for them to meet up with CSG.
Today, she woke up and exited her quarters to find a sleeping ensign asleep on the deck.
Sarah woke him to report what happened, the ensign was apparently sent by her XO to wake her but fell asleep as he raised his hands to knock.
Rushing to the bridge she was met with a bewildering sight of the XO sleeping position, he was looking like a damsel in distress.
His body was average amongst the crew, but to make up for it his voice was heavy. The man was one of the senior men, having the Gonzalez as his 4th ship to be on.
After hours of waking the whole crew throughout the ship, they immediately went to work to restore communications to Norfolk, which was quite successful.
“Captain, there's a Orion pilot wanting to talk to you,” the XO shouted to Sarah from his position, which she nodded at and picked up the phone near her chair.
“This is Captain Chen, of USS Gonzalez. How may I assist?” Sarah looked at her XO
“Gonzalez, this is Sealion 2, I have unidentified surface contact east of your current position, Im unable to prosecute. I'm hoping you could identify them for me, Im returning to base as of now,” She looked at her watch: it was 10AM.
Sarah answered back, “Sealion 2, copy, will investigate. Good flying, Chen out.”
She set the phone down, “Helm, course Zero-Nine-Zero,”
“Aye, Zero-Nine-Zero,” The helm replied as he turned the wheel
“Report steering,” She waited as the feeling of the ship turning went to her body.
As the ship steadied the helm reported, “Steering, Zero-Nine-Zero.”
“Ahead flank,” She orders to which the helm responds.
“Aye, ahead flank.”
Swiveling to the left she stands from the seat, “XO, you have the Con”
XO turned to her he announces against the silent bridge, “I have the Con, Aye.”
“I'll be in CIC,” She informed the XO who nodded.
Sarah left the bridge, and started walking to the Combat Information Center — or also known as CIC.
Greeting sailors as she walked pass them, going through the small hallways aboard the Destroyer. Finding soon enough herself on the last stretch, opening the door she is met with a silent and dark lit room.
Inside was Lieutenant Commander Fischer Toddler, a tall man he is often referred to the 'TAF' — Tired As Fuck — among the crew all because of his tired face. He served on the ship for over 24 years, one among the handful of senior men aboard.
Sarah didn't mind the look, this time around didn't mind the eyebags of the poor guy, “Fischer, what do we have in our scopes?”
“Nothing on our scopes from the looks of things, if that P3 picked up some random a…” Fister paused, noticing his radar operator waving to him.
The radar operator was a young man from Mississippi, from what Sarah can remember. His name was Loyd, the man had a knack at finding suspicious stuff on radar.
They approach him, “Just now, big clutter of vessels on passive, bearing 0-1-9, range 20-30 miles, closing at 10 knots. Due to it's large size,“ Loyd thought for a moment, ”It's not fishing boats, Im sure.”
“Understood,” Sarah patted Loyd's shoulder.
Sarah moved to the tacmap and looked at it, she sighed, the map was barely dotted. The map itself had most were Coast Guard cutters, which were to the south and north. Finding the group of vessels, they were specifically marked with a yellow indicator.
Probably civilian or cargo vessels coming from Europe, not worth investigating but it did pique her interest.
She reached for the telephone to contact the bridge, “Bridge, this is the Captain, report.”
It was a swift reply, “Captain, XO, we have spotted smoke on the horizon, bearing 0-1-9.”
“Maintain visual, report back when needed, Captain out,” Sarah looked at the tacmap as she put back the telephone.
Fischer approached Sarah from the side, “Passive has detected a influx of emissions coming from the unidentified ships, permission to go active.”
She nodded and Fischer turned around, “Radar, commence Surface Search, focus on bearing 0-1-9.”
“Surface Search Active, Contacts, designate Alpha Group, range 21 miles and closing, heading 2-9-3,” Loyd reported.
Sarah questioned, “Describe the formation, radar.”
“Yes Captain, we have seven contacts in tight circle formation, unable to confirm ship type and classification, but I can confirm that the centermost ship is a large vessel, two appears to be small, and four medium ships, this is based on their radar returns. Unable to identify nationality but I think visual assessment might prove to identify them,” Loyd looked back at her
“Secure from surface search, maintain passive identification and check visual,” Sarah ordered, to which he precisely followed.
She looked at a operator, “Get me a line to Norfolk, and double time.”
Turning to look at the tacmap she noticed that the unknown fleet, looked like a battle formation, specifically the old formations during the second world war.
“Fischer, why would a fleet of vessels in a circle formation come here? This isn't world war two type of merchant convoy,” She reached in a hand to her pocket and brought out a candy to eat.
“It's either NATO or some sort of civilians doing something to give us a heart attack,” Fischer let the opinion run across the room.
The CIC went silent, with the occasional sounds of the ship's engine in the background. The crewmen shifted in their seats, looking intently at their stations
The communications operator ended the silence, “I have the 2nd Fleet Commander on the line, Captain.”
Sarah brought down the radio close her mouth, “Commander Goerge, this is Captain Chen of USS Gonzalez, Reporting.”
A man with a gruff voice answered, “Captain Chen, status?”
“Commander, we have detected a fleet of unidentified vessels in a battle formation, I am hoping to know if theres any information of a scheduled visit from our NATO allies, or a friendly fleet in that matter?”
“Hmm? Not that I know of, hold,” Silence was what followed, the crew looked anxious. Anticipating something.
The commander broke through the silence, “Captain, you are to monitor and report the movements of this fleet, this might be another country's fleet.”
“Copy Commander, Chen out.”
Putting back the phone she returned to the tacmap, “Do we have any nearby friendly air or naval assets?”
Fischer answered, “We have a Orion, callsign: 'Kingfish' enroute to replace Sealion. We have a handful of Coast Guard cutters that we can call upon, Captain.”
“Contact and direct the Kingfish to monitor the fleet, meanwhile. Get me a line through those lifeguards” Sarah ordered.
———
Kolri Ocean, Aetheria
Month of Harvest 7th, 1256
In the vastness of the ocean, ships sliced through the waves. At the head of the fleet was HQRS “Spirehold”, one for royalty but still boast large caliber weapons that put the other ships to shame.
The Spirehold was designed for one purpose: Protection and Luxury, the ship itself looked pristine — Well because of a 'Hardworking' crew.
Inside the bridge was Queen's Admiral; Rowan Elliott, a man from the northern parts of the 3rd continent.
He was of course a Class 4 Mage, for a human to reach was outright impossible but he did so.
In the world, there are 9 Classes of Mages. Class Nine is a person who can control mana for the first time, to class One a person who can do almost anything. Thankfully only one has been recorded in history, one that died centuries ago in a battle.
Back to the bridge of the Spirehold, Rowan was sweating. Earlier in the week they had arrived to the first continent, and yesterday they were furiously trying to escape.
“Tsk, Captain, what is the status with the whole fleet on damage control?” He asked a tired Captain.
The Captain looked up before looking straight at the admiral, “all of the repairs that each ships crew could do have been done, we are 76% Combat Effective. On other news, The Witches Hunt has reported that they are low on mana stores.”
Rowan cursed, it was the 6th ship to be low.
“When is the estimated date will we arrive to the Capital? If we have enough mana stores?” Rowan looked to be in a pickle if they couldn't get a mana ship from the mainland to refill the stores.
The Captain moved away and started calculating, “If we have enough, then 12 days at best, 25 at worst.”
If it wasn't bad enough, a seaman barged inside the bridge. Startling a tired Captain, “Admiral! We have spotted a flying machine!”
The three rushed out of the bridge, handing over a manascope the seaman then pointed to the horizon.
The Queen's Admiral couldn't believe his eyes for a moment, there was a flying machine with two rotating blades in each wings.
“What is that?” A sudden voice disturbed them, turning their heads they immediately bow and greet.
“Her Highness,”
Nodding in acknowledgement the princess put her hand out, “Pass me a Manascope, please?”
A seaman approached and while bowing gave her the manascope, she took it gracefully making the seaman think in delight before he left.
The Princess moved to the left of Ronan, and got her manascope up to look at the flying machine.
The flying machine was staying a distance away from the fleet, merely observing them.
“From where do they come from?” The princess asked to no one in particular.
“Its not from the 1st Continent, im sure about it. And what is ‘US Navy’ anyway?” The captain spoke to himself, keeping it as low as possible.
Hearing the small muttering the princess spoke to the captain, “I heard that Captain Warlo, you may speak freely, only for the occasion.”
The captain looked away in embarrassment, “Yes your highness,”
“Captain, reserve your embarrassment for later, inform the other ships to form defence formation G,” The captain acknowledged the order, saluted and left to his duties.
“And your highness,” Ronan directly addressed her, “Would you kindly return to your quarters if possible?”
Ronan was hoping to get the princess to safety within the ship, yet it was shattered by merely one word.
“No,” She looked at Ronan.
“Princess…” He tried to reason but was stopped by the princess.
“Mother has said something great would happen today, and i wish to see it.”
Ronan couldn't argue, he was going against a bright young lady of the kingdom. And so, he decided on a course of action.
“Princess…” He was again waved to stop.
“I know Ronan, If there is danger, i would be knocked out for my own saving grace, and i will permit you that. And please do it gently if possible,” She smiled at Ronan.
Smiling he jested, “It seems that you have inherited the bluntness of your grandmother: Queen Ylezon, your Highness.”
“Apparently so,” She smiled before looking back out at sea