Chapter Fifty-Eight: Tournament Of Fates Above
"Perpetrators of the Loviedo Massacre were executed by firing squad by the Asturian Revolutionary Court. Provisional President Carlo Enriquez declared this morning that, 'Men who do not have honor, and conduct irrational acts of violence against women, will not be tolerated. The honor of the revolution will not be tainted. We may be in a struggle, and indeed in war with them - but we stand here not as the new oppressors in a centuries-old conflict. But as vanguards of a world of equality, liberty, and democracy.' This came as a major surprise, as the Asturian Republic continues to hold out to the counter-revolutionary offensive of Queen Clericia Alois from the north."
- Geopol Press
"Mass riots in major Larissan cities after the sinking of the GIS Askagrad, as pro-war demonstrators clashed with anti-war protests. Aristocratic nationalists in the Grand Imperial Parliament have called for emergency wartime measures, as the Empire-wide riots escalate. Suspicious movements of the Larissan Imperial Army have also been noted in the wake of the sinking of the GIS Askagrad, with male rights groups launching a series of terror attacks in major Larissan cities."
- Geopol News
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Northern Sea
Victory or Death
The Final Battle of the Northern Sea
A mere Commodore.
Yet there was no way he would lose. Albert would not allow such. This battle - was the battle. His mere single carrier strike force and his two squadrons faced three carriers.
And god knows how many more enemy squadrons.
Many would call him deranged, crazy, and utterly foolish. How could it be possible? For a mere one carrier to face three? Nay, he faced four carriers. He merely sank the first separately.
Yet, for all his brilliance, there were many doubts placed on his back and mind. Did the crew trust him? Did the airmen truly believe in the plans? Did the officers truthfully think that this would be the best?
Could her little sister truly place the fate of the Kingdom's war against the Empire, on his shoulders alone?
And so he chuckled inside. Was he arrogant? Overconfident? All for his mere victories in the Great War?
So much so, that he had the audacity to craft and implement such a borderline insane plan? Say what anyone would - all he could say was…
Maybe I am.
A great Empress.
Or at least, that was what this young girl likened herself to. To ascend to the throne when she was a mere child in all aspects, so much unearned responsibility was placed on her shoulders.
Katerina never loved it. She loathed it. All because the previous Empress died - she had to take reign of an Empire that barely functioned.
She had acted tough. She had taken the hardline approach. She had to. There could be no quarter, and no one should challenge her authority. Absolutism - it was the only way for her to ensure that those around her would not rid of her.
A vulnerable girl with a crown and throne of blood.
Yet she would not allow that. She would take them down first. Not her internal enemies - not her foreign enemies - none. None of them could be allowed to exist without being under her. Else they would meddle, plot, and overthrow her.
She should have won the Great War and solidified her control.
But that man - Albert. That one man, who now stood against her once more. That one man who stood defiant, even when alone, against her authority.
He needed to go.
The two held a determined face. Hundreds of kilometers in distance - from two different ships, and different rooms, they commanded this final showdown.
Two navies - two empires - two fates.
For the two - it would either be victory or death.
"VFA-13! All callsigns! Fire the volley at once! Eliminate the Empress' minions!"
"3rd Imperial Air Squadron! Do not let them take you out! For the Empire and for me! I demand victory from you!"
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The rapid streams of "Fox-Three!" filled the BatNet (Battle Net) as Albert stood imposingly still, viewing the engagement.
Hellcat 1, or VFA-13, advanced until they were merely 50 kilometers away from an identified Larissan squadron. AWACS had already identified their target - the 3rd Imperial Air Squadron.
And Albert wanted it gone.
"Schlatt? I have a question for you."
"Commodore? Yes, of course, sir."
He didn't bother to turn back to face the officer behind him.
"Your pilots…can they face an opposition when outnumbered by three?"
"Sir, I believe you have asked me that question already. I have answered yes."
He watched the screens, as the green signatures of VFA-13 approached the red signatures - their missiles screeching ahead of their formation.
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He took the microphone and routed himself to a broadcast straight to the bragging pilots.
"Hellcat 1."
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"Your Captain said…" He turned slightly at the smirking Captain Schlatt, who had his arms crossed as he watched the exchange. "That all of you are mighty fine fliers. I know four of you are aces."
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"Then I want you all to prove it. Today. For the Kingdom."
Another laugh came.
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The missiles were now 10 kilometers away from the reds.
Here we go.
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Katerina slammed her fist on the table, and she leaned to her microphone, watching the screens closely. There it was - the missiles of Albert's planes, approaching her 3rd Squadron.
"All of you rat bastards! Move out of the way if you insist on living another day! That hardware you sit on is more important than your lives! I'll personally find a way to execute you even if you die today and lose my planes!"
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A deranged laugh came one after another.
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One after another, her squadron broke formation as the missiles approached them. She watched as the missiles flew straight into them - so closely, with many dodging it with great skill as their altitudes dropped or rose.
While other signatures disappeared.
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"How dare you! To speak that way to your Emp-"
Her anger suddenly dropped, as out of nowhere, the signature of the insolent pilot disappeared.
Deny it all she wanted…her heart felt guilty. She never was at the front. She had always led from the capital, truly detached except for reports.
"I-I…" I'm sorry…
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How long could she act tough? To keep the display of her fake indifference to death and brutality. To the blood in her hands - now in the millions, with another soul added.
Her eyes trembled, but her voice didn't.
Not yet.
"4th Imperial Air Squadron! Line up for your attack run! I order you not to miss!"
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I knew you wouldn't go down that easily, Empress. But if you think this attack would win you this day - you are sorely mistaken.
"Schlatt, can they dodge that?"
"Of course, they can, sir. In fact, I have an idea."
"What?"
"Make them split in two. One would launch another volley of missiles to the 3rd Imperial Air Squadron to finally cripple them, while the other half faces the 4th Imperial Air Squadron. Then, they would all swoop in and gang up on the 4th."
"Wait…you mean split VFA-13 to deal with two? Wouldn't that compromise the firepower of the squadron?"
"We are facing 3-to-1 opposition." He flashed him a deranged smirk. "But my airmen are true demons. Why not let them face them all at once? And after all, you know how it is in aerial warfare. If the enemy launches their storm upon you - never turn tail. Meet them head-on."
"...I like your style, Captain."
With confidence, he relayed the orders to the BatNet. Immediately, VFA-13, all focused on the 3rd, broke into two - one charging forward to the 3rd, and the other facing the barrage of missiles of the 4th.
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And closely behind VFA-13, three Orlish signatures caught up behind. They were a part of the VAQ (Electronic Attack Squadron) of the Rebenslof's air wing.
And they were now joining in the fight.
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And like screeching eagles, the signatures of the 6 planes of VFA-13 dispersed in all directions, missiles swarming in with the full intent to cripple them.
But Albert didn't mind, as his eye turned to the other half of VFA-13 as they lined up for their attack run.
And with one confirmation from their AWACS…
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Dammit! They really are aces. I should have expected this. These squadrons of the Rebenslof won't be easy to crack like the last one. They really are the cream of the crop.
But she won't back down just yet. Not even her failure to destroy even a single one of them would.
Not even when the 3rd was decimated.
"Have we stalled them enough?"
Her new chosen officer to support her, a meek Comms Officer, replied to her.
"Our four other squadrons are closing in on the Orlish Task Force, Your Majesty."
But should she send it all? Her flank was wide open. The 4th alone would not be able to hold them off. Not those Orlish demons of the skies.
"Divert the 7th Imperial Air Squadron to face that Orlish squadron! They cannot interfere with our attack run! Not now!"
"Acknowledged, Your Majesty."
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The Olivia was on full alert. And so were the four ships that formed a ring around her. With much anxiety, the officers and crew on the bridge of the old Lorathian battleship watched as the engagement took place just a few hundred kilometers off from them.
They were mere bait, as ordered by VACCOM and the Queen. A sacrificial lamb for the whole operation. It wasn't the best of assignments, yet how could a trap for a beast form without bait?
They were closing in.
And the question for all sailors and crewmen palpitated through their hearts as they watched the gray, stormy skies down southeast of them.
Could the Rebenslof succeed?