North Carolina and her sisters begin the first phase of the plan at the break of dawn, with the 10 Admiral Fisher Heavy Cruisers in formation, their sleek hulls cutting through the early morning mist. The sun rises slowly as they head towards the island, the horizon glowing with hints of pink and orange. I sit back in the Fleet Control Room, my eyes glued to the radar screen. Everything seems steady for now, the plan unfolding just as we rehearsed it.
Minutes go by, the tension slowly building in the room. Then, the phenomenon strikes. Out of nowhere, communication with North Carolina and her sisters is severed. The chatter on the radio dies out, replaced by a heavy, eerie static. I grit my teeth, trying not to let the creeping dread get to me. This was expected. Part of the plan. Still, it feels unsettling to be cut off like this.
I trust them, though. They know what they're doing. So, I shift my focus. I quickly start setting up for the next phase, dispatching orders to ready the F-2 fighters and B-1 bombers for a sortie. Time slips by in a blur of activity. The hum of engines fills the air as, one by one, the fighters and bombers take off from the various ports. They're flying low, conserving fuel as they circle Port Nine, waiting for the signal to begin their run.
As the hours drag on, the airspace becomes alive filled with activity. Over 600 bombers now soar above, each one armed with glide bombs, sleek and deadly. Close behind them are 540 heavy fighters, their escorts, ready to fend off any threats. The skies are also filled with 15 Heavy AWACS aircraft, their radars scanning miles ahead to ensure nothing catches us by surprise. Air refueling aircraft, 50 in total, move steadily through the clouds, ready to replenish any plane running low on fuel. Further back, 100 cargo planes fly at a slightly higher altitude, loaded with palettes of 500kg unguided bombs. These bombs are crude but effective, perfect for pounding Fortress-1 into submission.
More time passes, and the aircraft from the other ports arrive—Port Primo, Port Dos Por Tres, Port Kwatro, Port Cinco, Port Six, and Port Seven all reporting in. Their arrival almost doubles our numbers. Now, 700 more B-1 bombers and 700 F-2 fighters join the formation, bringing with them another 20 Heavy AWACS aircraft and 140 air refueling planes. The sky is dense with metal wings and roaring engines. Over 2,000 aircraft now hover in formation, waiting for the signal.
As I sit here in the Fleet Control Room, watching the screens flicker and shift with the movements of the operation, I take a moment to breathe. Just a small pause to calm my nerves. It’s been an intense few hours, and while everything seems to be falling into place, the uncertainty still hangs in the air. I lean back in my chair, my eyes darting across the monitors, hoping for the best but preparing for the unexpected.
Around noon, a new report comes in—finally, some word from North Carolina. The message is brief but clear: Ten Fortress-1 units are now pursuing them, all spread out by a few kilometers. They’re moving exactly as we predicted, right into the trap. It’s a bit surprising, though—we didn’t expect this many of them. The enemy has definitely upped their game. But even with the increased numbers, everything is going according to plan.
North Carolina doesn’t hesitate. She’s already preparing to launch her air fleet from the Lexington carriers—F-1 and F-2 fighters primed and ready. Their mission is simple: bait the enemy fighters into a dogfight. It’s risky, but necessary. The Fortress-1 units may be monstrous in size and firepower, but their fighters are their main defense. If we can thin them out, the bombers will have a clean shot later.
By early afternoon, everything is set in motion. The tension in the air is thick, but there's a sense of control, like watching a game of chess where each move is calculated to perfection. My massive air fleet has been circling in the skies all morning, conserving fuel, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Now that moment has come. The order is given, and the formation begins to move. The heavy fighters take the lead, forming the vanguard of the operation. Their engines roar as they push forward, cutting through the clouds. Behind them, the bombers hang back, holding their position until it’s time for them to strike.
Meanwhile, North Carolina and her fleet begin their counterattack. With the Fortress-1 units closing in, the ships turn in perfect unison, turning to face the incoming behemoths. Their guns swivel, targeting the enemy. The bombardment is about to begin. North Carolina’s plan is as bold as it is dangerous—she’s drawing them in, getting them just close enough before unleashing hell.
The battle is about to erupt, and all i can do now is watch as it unfolds.
*
The sky is thick with the sound of propellers as the F-1s hold their own against a much larger swarm of enemy fighters. It’s an intense dogfight—1v3 in most cases—but the F-1s don’t waver. They bank and dive, their propellers spinning furiously as they maneuver through the air, avoiding enemy fire while lining up their shots. Their machine guns rattle, spitting out rounds as they engage the enemy head-on, doing everything they can to keep the fight alive.
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Despite the odds, the F-1s fight fiercely, but the sheer number of enemy planes is starting to take its toll. One by one, the F-1s are forced into defensive positions, struggling to keep up with the relentless waves. The sky feels tighter, more crowded, as the enemy presses in, threatening to overwhelm them. The once-tight formations of F-1s begin to scatter as they dodge and weave, trying to stay in the fight.
Just when it seems like they might be overrun, the F-2s swoop in. The low growl of their engines fills the air as they close in fast, cutting through the clouds like sharp blades. Reinforcements. The F-2s waste no time diving into the fray, providing much-needed backup to the dwindling F-1s. With their heavier armament and more robust frames, the F-2s level the playing field, quickly engaging the enemy and drawing some of the pressure off their outnumbered comrades.
The F-1s, now bolstered by the arrival of the F-2s, regroup and push back. Together, they begin to shift the momentum, their combined firepower starting to tear through the enemy lines. The skies fill with the rattle of machine guns and the distant booms of planes spiraling down in flames. The enemy fighters, once confident in their numbers, now face a more coordinated and relentless counterattack.
Bit by bit, the enemy's advantage slips away as the F-1s and F-2s press their advantage. The battle in the air rages on, but now, it’s no longer about survival—it’s about turning the tide.
Despite the complete lack of direct communication due to the heavy radar and radio interference, i remained calm, fully aware of my part of the plan. I don't need updates to know that everything is moving forward as expected. Hours pass, and finally, the moment arrives. The formation of 1,300 bombers, loaded with radar-guided bombs, reaches their targets. Each of the ten massive Fortress-1 units now has 130 bombers bearing down on them, ready to unleash a torrent of destruction.
Without hesitation, the bombers begin their attack. One after another, they release their guided munitions, each bomb zeroing in on critical targets. The AA turrets are first, followed by the naval guns and anything that even remotely resembles a structure. The explosions are almost endless as one by one, the bombs hit their marks, sending fire and debris into the sky. The Fortress-1s, once seemingly invincible, are now under relentless assault, their defenses being torn apart piece by piece.
Meanwhile, the F-2 fighters circle the formation, doing everything in their power to keep the bombers safe from enemy fighters. They engage any threats that come too close, weaving through the air in fierce dogfights. The chaos of battle surrounds them, but the F-2s fight with everything they have, determined to see the bombers complete their mission.
Despite their best efforts, the toll on the formation is heavy. By the time the bombers finish their run, 76 B-1 bombers have been lost. The F-2s, though valiant, lose 41 of their own in the process. Still, considering the sheer scale of the operation and priority its manageable.
As the last bombs fall and the Fortress-1s lie battered and broken, Phase 2 is officially over. The skies are clearing, the objective is complete, and despite the cost, the operation is still on track. The enemy's once formidable defenses are in ruins, and now, it’s only a matter of time before the next phase begins.
With the massive fortresses now collapsing into the ocean, their power systems failing, North Carolina and her sisters move into position. The destruction of the Fortress-1s has left a trail of chaos, massive waves rippling out from where the hulking giants crashed into the water. But this is exactly what North Carolina has been waiting for. Alongside her, over 50 Color-class destroyers sit at the ready, each armed with 24-inch torpedoes designed for this moment.
The destroyers hold their positions, engines idling as they wait for the waters to calm. The massive waves gradually settle, the once-turbulent sea turning eerily still. It’s a brief moment of quiet, a pause before the final blow. Then, the order is given.
One by one, the destroyers launch their torpedoes. Over 20 are fired at each of the ten Fortress-1s, their sleek forms cutting through the water with deadly precision. The torpedoes move fast, propelling themselves towards their targets with incredible speed, disappearing into the depths. The destroyers, positioned a safe distance away, watch as their payloads close in on the sinking giants.
Minutes pass in tense silence. Then, the ocean erupts. Huge columns of water shoot into the air as the torpedoes find their marks, slamming into the hulls of the already crippled fortresses. The blasts are deafening, each explosion tearing through the remaining structure, forcing the Fortress-1s deeper into the sea.
The once-mighty fortresses, now half-submerged, are hit with blow after blow, unable to resist the assault. The relentless torpedo barrage accelerates their sinking, the ocean swallowing them whole. The waters churn violently, the remnants of the fortresses disappearing beneath the surface, leaving only rippling waves in their wake.
As the fortresses sink deeper into the ocean, their structures groan and creak under the immense pressure, the sound echoing across the water. Flames still flicker across their surfaces, stubbornly clinging to life as the sea rises to claim them.
North Carolina and her sisters watch in silence, their powerful hulls steady against the gently rocking sea. The towering structures that once loomed so ominously now crumble and collapse, sending ripples through the water. The fiery glow dims, fading into the depths as the ocean finally pulls the last of the fortresses under.
No words are exchanged; the scene speaks for itself. North Carolina and her fleet stand as witnesses to the end of the fortresses' reign, their mission completed.