Sovereign

"Victory or defeat - there would be no backing down. They have three carriers. We have one. Either Orland and Lorathia wins today - or we would lose tomorrow."

- Rear Admiral Jones Richt, Task Force 22

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Did…did I do it? Is this it?

The Empress stared at the screens with desperation, as faint bands of sweat appeared on her forehead. The signatures of the 8th Imperial Squadron were also in full retreat, but the red signature of her main target - the Rebenslof, was struck many times.

He must be sinking. I won. I won. I did it. I…I can't believe it…I…I did it.

The stream of reports from the bridge, from her officers came in one by one. Talks of confirmations and "successful impacts" were uttered one after another, as the weight that almost crushed her heart slowly dissipated.

"Our squadrons are retreating. Hostile aircraft are also disengaging."

"Hostile surface contacts in retreat."

"ONS Rebenslof slipping from radar contact."

"The 8th reports further confirmations: 4 successful hits."

"CIC confirms hostile naval contact sunk."

She could not believe it. All her struggles, all the scheming, all her plans - and she did it at last. The Rebenslof, the greatest Orlish warship, and the only carrier that stood between her and Lorathia were gone.

"Captain, give me a full report."

With an aye, the Terror's CO approached the Empress and took a deep breath.

"Your Majesty, as of this moment - the hostile major warship, identified as the ONS Rebenslof, has been confirmed sunk. We have also eliminated 2 of her escorts."

"What of our casualties?"

"We've lost…38 of our aircraft in the engagement."

"How much did they lose?"

"A mere dozen."

Goddess. Once this is all over, I'll absolutely get my Empire's pilots in their proper shapes. This is appalling. A shameful result.

"Such heavy losses…"

Suddenly, a shout emanated from her Comms Officer.

"Your Majesty!"

"What is it?"

"An unknown vessel hailed us. We've identified their position to be - 400 kilometers, North West. Should we accept?"

She debated her options. Perhaps a surrender? She nodded at him. It didn't matter. She was victorious - nothing would stop her.

She nodded and took the radio to her ears, and she spoke to her microphone.

"This is the Empress, Empress Katerina Illyenov speaking. Identify yourself."

"Empress…I see that you are a little jolly today."

Her eyes widened. That familiar voice. How did he?

"A-Albert?"

"Oh, thought I was gone?"

"It can't be! You're sunk. You're gone. Your ship is sinking. That blasted carrier is gone!"

"Oh, but I'm very much not so. Say, your pilots are no good, aren't they?"

How dare you make the deaths of my countrymen! You rascal!

"You…you…"

"I have just one message to you. Surrender now, or be annihilated. If you want an honorable way out of this battle - then don't make that mistake."

And as he said that, her blood ran cold.

"I've hunted you down - there won't be an escape."

…

"Sir, VACCOM is transmitting right now. It's the Admiral."

Truthfully, Albert cringed at his words to the Empress earlier. What did he think? That he was some sort of a main character giving the villain an ultimatum?

How childish.

In any case, if she doesn't surrender, then there is no other choice.

By this point, the Rebenslof had expended most of her air-to-surface missiles. And, as he calculated - so did the Empress' fleet. The last battles had been all-or-nothing struggles, where entire arsenals of cruise missiles were expended by both sides' air wings.

It was why VACCOM came with the operation. They would be beyond integral, as this was how the operation was planned to be. A final, brutal naval slugfest between surface warships to give the final blow.

"Admiral Tresckow?"

"Congratulations, Commodore. That was a brilliant victory."

"Thanks, Admiral."

"But the battle is far from over. How is your air wing?"

"They're down in air-to-surface missiles. VFA-13 may offer significant air cover, and VFA-18 may participate in limited anti-ship operations, but not until we have them rearmed and refueled."

"Good. We don't need much more, Commodore. You and your men did enough."

"Admiral…when will you begin?"

A laugh came from the other side. Albert didn't know how to react - and so he stayed silent.

"Right now. Immediately."

"I see."

"May the Goddess be with us, Commodore. It will be a bloody fight."

Albert placed down the radio, as he turned around to the bridge's crew. Just then, a fleet-wide announcement was issued by the Admiral.

All all-out attack.

…

It had only been a few dozen minutes since the Admiral issued his "all-out attack" directives. Rapidly, the decks of the Rebenslof were filled with all kinds of crewmen as Zapper after Zapper were rearmed and refueled in the decks.

One after another, missiles and fuel were placed inside these warbirds, as their pilots stood by the side - barely even a few minutes of rest being afforded for them.

And soon - the first Zappers lined up on the catapults, as they began their pre-flight checks. The lights of their afterburners raged upon a signal from the catapult officers, and into the raging skies they soared.

Already, their HUDs showed the full extent of the battle. In the distance, formations of Orlish and Lorathian ships seemed to close in into clusters of Larissa reds.

Every few minutes or so, these signatures would disappear intermittently. The battle didn't leave any quarter - both sides were suffering naval losses.

The first three Zappers up in the skies didn't bother to wait for the rest. They weren't striking as one squadron this time. There was no time for that.

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They traveled fast and far, as the trio formed a nearly triangular formation, their lead aircraft in the middle. They would have to provide air superiority during the battle, as the Larissans were still sending planes into the skies.

While they had wiped out a good chunk of their air wings, the Orlish still played with fewer planes. Such disadvantage was mostly eliminated, however, as the ships of VACCOM rapidly closed the distance to the Larissan fleet, and they were picking off their planes (piloted by inadequately skilled second-rate pilots) one after another.

Within just above a dozen minutes, they finally saw the battle from the far distance. Below the clouds, they could see the distant flashes and lights. The dots seemed small in the vast sea - but the battle truly seemed massive.

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Yet, the trio could merely look at the moment. The skies seemed to be darkening, the storm was intensifying.

And so was the battle. This was it - the final punch to the gut.

And it would be bloody.

…

"Your Majesty!"

A distant explosion lit up the darkening horizon as her Comms Officer stood before her. Katerina had been desperately trying to lead her fleet since the sudden appearance of Orlish and Lorathian ships 30 minutes ago.

With her air assets utterly mauled, her Carriers were not up to the task of defending her fleet. She had ordered many of her surface combatants to detach and engage the enemy and find a way out for her fleet to slip out and escape.

The dread of the situation slowly ate her, as one after another, the names of sunk ships were announced for her awareness.

Already, her authoritative and terror-filled voice deteriorated. Once again, anxiety and fear coursed through her.

"What is it? Did you transmit my orders? I said I want a rearguard now."

"Yes, Your Majesty, but I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Tell me why?"

"We lost multiple ships from DesDiv 59. 7 of them have been sunk by an Orlish missile strike."

"What happened? How? They have point defense, right? How could those missiles get through? I needed them to buy us time."

"...They were overwhelmed."

"How?"

"Our previous engagements have been draining our missile stocks. They've been unable to launch enough interceptors to counter the strike."

She almost fell to her seat. It was an utter disaster. She thought…she thought she had won. But no - now she was almost surrounded, on all sides, with all her naval formations being pummeled with sheer brutality.

I can't…surrender now. Damn his words. I still have some superiority in numbers. Surely I can-

Another detonation lit up in the distance.

Surely I-

And another.

Surely-

And another.

And her mind almost crumbled. Was escape even possible?

"Your Majesty…our forces are breaking into a disorganized retreat."

"That can't be! Order them to stand their ground. We cannot rout! If we must retreat, then only in good order!"

…

6 Larissan Guided-Missile destroyers steamed forward with the GIS Polkava - one of Katerina's powerful aircraft carriers. However, now, the battle has changed significantly.

Plumes of water rose one after another in the waters, as Orlish naval gunnery pummelled the group of ships. The Polkava's flight deck itself was already letting off faint smoke, as Orlish 5-inch cannons damaged the carrier's vulnerable flight deck.

The Larissan destroyers however didn't relent. Their guns continued to open fire one after another, as they launched their cruise missiles intermittently.

Most of what they launched however were SAM interceptors. Constantly, Orlish missiles would appear on the horizon like angry bugs. Their strikes, unlike in the earlier days of the battle, were spaced - careful and deliberate, instead of being spammed with no end.

Thus, the Commanding Officer in charge of this Larissan Task Force stood on the bridge with a minuscule amount of confidence. Perhaps, they had a chance.

Just as he issued another set of desperate orders, however - a sudden alarm took his attention. Dozens after dozens of red, angry signatures appeared on the radar.

There were Orlish missiles everywhere!

The skies were once more blotted by detonations, as her escorts opened up their point-defense systems. Unfortunately, there was too much - and their luck ran out.

The GIS Polkava was now turned into a victim.

First was the stern.

Then the bridge disappeared.

Then amidships - an explosion almost crackled the carrier's hull. Beside her, two other Larissan destroyers screeched to a burning halt, as more missiles utterly pummelled them into a brutal death.

With the rain pouring above them, the three ships burned and sank rapidly - the GIS Polkava herself capsizing on her starboard side.

…

The night had already fallen in the blood-soaked waters of the Northern Sea.

Orlish, Lorathian, and Larissan ships - all of them, tasted the salt of the waters, as the entire battlespace was filled with the burning, sinking corpses of the wide battlefield.

Over the darkened skies, Orlish destroyers and Larissan destroyers dueled each other beside the sinking wrecks of their allies - the rain pouring madly from above them. The faint lights of the battle could be seen from the distance - yet for those in it, the darkness was brightly lit.

Even sinking Larissan ships fired off their guns as they slowly drifted down in the powerful waves - their defiance from defeat all but visible to the thousands of sailors drowning or freezing in the waters.

It was beyond hideous - as oil spilled and burned in the dark waters in many areas, incinerating the oil-covered men who desperately tried to swim and escape.

And there was no salvation for those in the waters. The battle had devolved into a confused, brutal melee. Formations had collapsed. Communication had broken down. And the fight was no more an organized affair.

But merely a few surviving ships attempting to escape, pick off the enemy or fire everything as a way to sink with glory.

Katerina looked around the bridge, as she felt her voice crack as she issued another set of orders. She had been shouting, talking, and commanding for hours.

Yet all of it was in vain. The noose tightened on her fleet, and many of her escorts were sunk or heavily damaged.

Both sides also heavily jammed each other's communications. So bad it was, that they didn't know who or what even survived - or who were their friends or enemies.

An explosion slammed into the flight deck of her carrier and almost knocked her off her feet.

The Polkava was gone. The Terror was under attack. And her other carrier, the Theresa was unreachable. Her fate, now unknown.

My…my fleet.

And her crown. The Empire. Her promised victory. Was she to die here and now? Die in her one last attempt to hold on to her crown and throne?

Her one last desperate attempt to survive?

Another blast close to them. Slowly, she looked at the side of her bridge. In the far distance, one of the escorts beside the Terror, burned as the skies were filled with lead from the point-defense guns of her other ships.

I…lost…didn't I?

Tears swelled in her eyes, as the ship further detonated and lit up the seas - its bow completely detaching from the rest of the ship.

"Your Majesty?! Your Majesty?! What are your orders?"

She didn't reply.

"Your Majesty?"

She could not.

"Your Majesty?"

She was crying, and crying. She didn't want to die. Not in this blasted battle. Not in this arena of watery death.

Slowly, she ignored the desperate questions of her confused Comms Officer, as she approached her radio.

With her shaking hands, she placed it close to her mouth.

"I…To all Orlish and Lorathian forces. I surrender. We surrender. Please…"

Her voice cracked.

"Have mercy! We shall stand down immediately. Please. Please. Please. PLEASE!"

The Empress and her fleet…had fallen.