Reincarnated with the Country System

The carrier Akagi

Inside her combat information center, cold light bathed every face. Status boards glowed red and amber.

Admiral Akari stood in the center well. The big tactical display showed the ocean as a ring of smoke and wreckage. Blue icons—his ships—formed three concentric lines. Far to the south and east, two more clusters of red glimmered: the remaining Indiana fleets. Between them, over the burning sea, only twenty-two red icons still clung to the sky.

"Sky-ships count verified at two-two," an officer reported. "All others confirmed destroyed or falling."

"Air Wing status," he asked.

"Eagle and Raven flights on final recovery. Last F-35s crossing the wire now. No remaining strike aircraft in the battlespace."

Akari gave a single nod. "Good. All aircraft are to remain on deck until further notice. Confirm to every carrier."

"Aye, sir. All aircraft secured."

The room steadied around the quiet order. Pilots knew what it meant: the next move would not involve them.

His operations officer approached, voice low. "Admiral, if we continue conventional fire, casualties will rise."

"I know," Akari said.

A moment's silence. Then he spoke clearly enough for the entire CIC to hear. "Prepare Resonance Nova. Full pattern. We end the Sky Fleet now and clear the sea for the southern strike."

Every console seemed to pause. Then keys turned in paired locks, confirmation codes rattling down the line.

"Authorize all launch platforms," Akari continued. "Submarines Wolf and Kuroi, cruisers Hiei and Descartes, prepare Nova warheads. Synchronize to my mark."

"Aye, Admiral. Weapons cycling."

Outside, the storm-scarred evening darkened. Bernard carriers finished recovering the last jets. Flight decks emptied, hatches sealed. Below the surface, two black submarines shifted position and exposed hidden bays.

....

Far above, the Indiana Sky Fleet struggled to keep formation. Fewer than two dozen fortresses remained, their rune-panels cracked and flickering. They formed a desperate wheel of light above the shattered sea.

"Commander, three more ships losing lift. Engineers fear core burnout."

"Spirits fading," a priest whispered. "The sky grows thin."

Aranya looked west, where the Bernard navy lay—three great carrier groups, destroyers and cruisers arrayed in perfect arcs. They had stopped launching aircraft. Instead their decks glowed with unfamiliar light, a dull violet that pulsed with slow rhythm.

He touched the copper pendant at his throat. If this is the end, let it be worthy.

"Hold the circle," he said. "No retreat."

On Akagi, the final sequence began.

"Resonance Nova armed," a weapons officer reported. "All nodes synced to carrier network. Submarines in position. Estimated sphere radius: thirty kilometers, altitude envelope to fifteen thousand meters."

"Fleet barriers?" Akari asked.

"Primary and secondary grids stable. We can contain the pulse."

"Good."

He let the silence hang for a heartbeat, the way a blade hangs before the cut.

"Execute."

Deep beneath the waves, the two submarines launched their payloads—slender, finned cylinders that rose without wake. From the cruisers, vertical hatches slid open and more warheads climbed into the low clouds, their housings humming with buried energy. They met in the air, linked by invisible data threads, and together triggered the Nova.

The sea seemed to breathe in.

Then light without color erupted upward.

It was not a beam or an explosion. It was a vibration that filled water and sky. Bernard shields flared white as the resonance expanded outward in a perfect sphere.

.....

On the Ashvamedha the deck lurched. A deep bass note rolled through bone and iron. Runes on the hull flared too bright, then dimmed to nothing. Levitation cores shuddered.

"Commander!" an officer cried. "The cores—"

"I know."

One after another the fortresses screamed as their magic unraveled. Panels spider-cracked and fell away. Entire ships tilted like dying birds. Priests clawed at their inscriptions, trying to rewrite sigils as the stone itself forgot the words.

Aranya gripped the rail. Sparks leapt from the copper pendant into his palm, burning skin. He did not release it.

"Keep firing!" he shouted.

The remaining rune-lances answered once, twice, streaks of blue stabbing downward. Two Bernard destroyers took direct hits, flames spilling across their decks. But the damage was already done. The sky itself betrayed the fortresses. Lift failed. Gravity took hold.

One by one the giants began their fall.

"Target degradation confirmed," Akagi's sensor chief reported. "Twenty contacts losing altitude… eighteen… fifteen…"

Akari watched without expression. "Maintain fleet barrier. Prepare surface batteries for finishing fire. Once they breach five thousand meters, open all guns."

The guns were ready. The instant the first fortress dropped through the kill zone, missiles and rail shells converged. Fire blossomed against failing shields. Explosions ripped through ancient ironwood. Whole decks sheared away. The sky rained embers.

Aranya steadied himself on a railing slick with blood and rain. Around him men shouted prayers or curses. The Ashvamedha's core sputtered like a dying heart.

"Commander, abandon ship," someone begged.

"No," Aranya said. "We strike."

He turned to the helmsman. "Take us into their center. Full power. We will hit them even as we fall."

The helmsman saluted once, eyes bright with tears, and shoved the throttle forward.

The great fortress tilted nose-down, engines howling. Flames trailed from shattered panels. A final volley from the Bernard line ripped through the hull, but the Ashvamedha kept its dive, a falling mountain aimed at the sea of steel.

A Bernard cruiser loomed ahead, its crew frantic at the sight of the descending giant. Akari's voice cut across his net: "All ships, break formation to port. Do not block the fall. Let gravity finish it."

Too late for the cruiser. The Ashvamedha slammed down like a collapsing star. Impact lit the ocean with white fire. Boom—a wall of water rose dozens of meters high, washing over nearby decks. When the spray cleared, the fortress was gone, the cruiser broken in two and sliding beneath the waves.

One after another the remaining Indiana ships followed—some spiraling, some plunging straight. Within minutes, nothing remained aloft.

....

"Red air contacts: zero," the air watch reported. "All sky-fortresses destroyed."

Akari gave a single nod. "Commence second-phase strike. Target the approaching Indiana fleets. Submarines, release Pattern Two. Carrier groups, advance."