Summoning America

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——

Last time on Summoning America:

Gra Lux, Emperor of Gra Valkas, is forced to surrender his throne to Senator Guinea Marix. His family is taken captive, escalating tensions within the empire. Meanwhile, a US SEAL team led by Lieutenant Riley infiltrates Ragna, tasked with a high-risk extraction mission to save the deposed Emperor amidst a city under martial law. Failing to reach Gra Lux in time, they resort to Extraction Plan Bravo – rescuing Gra Lux from a military convoy. Finding themselves in the middle of enemy territory and thousands of miles away from any help, the SEALs steel themselves for the most daunting mission of their careers.

——

Somewhere in the Valkan Sea

USS Montana (SSN-794)

As the low hum of activity in the command center filled the air, Captain Hargrove’s eyes were glued to the array of monitors illuminating the darkened room. The digital clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, its red numerals reflecting in his determined gaze. Finally, after hours upon hours of loitering beneath the waves, his submarines were ready to take the stage.

“Prepare for Operation Hunter Killer,” he commanded, his voice slicing through the din like a hot knife through butter. The room fell into a hushed silence as all eyes turned towards him. “Remember, we’re not just providing a distraction for the extraction teams. We’re striking at their jugular. Softening up the Valkies for what’s coming. We need to hit them where it hurts the most.”

Hargrove glanced at the clock once more. By the time the convoy arrived at the Ghosts’ position, the rest of Ragna would be scrambling their defenses in reaction to the unexpected attacks. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hargrove gave the go-ahead. “Commence Operation Hunter Killer.”

“Acknowledged, sir,” responded the weapons officer, a veteran submariner named Petty Officer 1st Class Kevin Taylor. His fingers danced over the control panel as he activated the launch sequence, the missiles’ intended targets already selected. In response, the control room was filled with a chorus of machinery coming to life; distant hums of generators and mechanical hisses from pneumatic systems.

“Final launch check,” Taylor reported, his eyes scanning readouts on the panel. “Targeting systems green. GPS lock acquired. Missile tubes one through four pressurizing.”

A low throb reverberated through the hull of the USS Montana, a bass note humming in the ship’s structure. Hargrove could feel the vibration in his shoes, the power of the missile tubes being readied for launch. The room filled with the growing roar of compressed air, the sound echoing down the halls.

“Pressurization complete. Missile tubes one through four primed and ready, sir,” reported Taylor, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. 

“Fire on my mark,” Hargrove ordered, his gaze locked onto the real-time satellite feed projected onto the main screen. The capital city of Ragna, the heart of the Gra Valkas Empire, was shown in stark detail. 

“Mark,” Hargrove declared.

The USS Montana shuddered as four Tomahawk cruise missiles burst from their tubes beneath the cold waters, breaching the surface with a rush of white foam and sea spray. The roar of their rocket engines filled the control room through the hull’s microphones, a deafening crescendo that echoed in the tight space.

“Missiles away,” Taylor confirmed, his tone one of satisfaction. “Heading towards targets.”

Hargrove watched as the missiles climbed higher, their fiery tails tracing a lethal path across the night sky. More missiles followed suit, representing coordinated launches from the USS Michigan and the USS Florida. Each missile, guided by precise GPS coordinates provided by the CIA, had a distinct destination within Ragna.

As the missiles descended upon their targets, the drone feed showed the city transforming in a matter of seconds. Each missile strike was an eruption of fiery destruction, reducing buildings to rubble and sending shockwaves rippling throughout the cityscape.

Communications towers, once towering sentinels of steel and concrete, crumbled under the force of the explosions. Their destruction severed the Empire’s critical lines of communication, leaving them blind and deaf in the face of the assault.

Troop barracks ignited in infernos of flames, the powerful explosions transforming them into deadly traps. Screams of alarm and orders for evacuation were drowned out by the deafening blasts and the crackling roar of fire. Ammunition depots, storing the Empire’s military might, erupted like fireworks in the night sky. The missiles’ impact ignited stored munitions, causing secondary explosions that amplified the devastation and sent plumes of fire and smoke towering into the sky. The men aboard the submarines could only thank God that the Gra Valkans had imposed martial law; this action may very well have saved the lives of many civilians who would otherwise have been near the blasts.

In addition to the city’s military installations, the drones’ feeds also showed the seaport, a sprawling complex of docks, warehouses, and naval assets. This was the lifeline of the Gra Valkas Empire, a military and logistical hub that was now squarely in the crosshairs of Operation Hunter Killer.

The next volley of missiles was dedicated solely to the seaport. They streaked low across the water, their shadows undulating on the waves before they found their marks. The hardened battleships and carriers of the Gra Valkas Navy – symbols of their might – erupted in colossal detonations. Amidst the yielding of metal, the surrounding waters hissed as they churned and steamed from the heat. The steel behemoths, once harbingers of Mu’s doom, were now twisted masses of wreckage. The sea was set aflame, painting a vivid picture against the black canvas of the night.

Operation Hunter Killer was living up to its name, wreaking havoc across the city and sowing the seeds of chaos necessary for the SEALs to make their move.

––

Ragna, Gra Valkas Empire

Imperial Palace

The beautiful garden in front of the Imperial Palace was filled with influential figures of the Gra Valkas Empire - nobles, military leaders, and members of the press, all watching intently as Senator Guinea Marix ascended to the ornate podium. Large flags of the Gra Valkas Empire were draped from the balconies overhead, fluttering in the wind.

Only hours earlier, Marix had been a senator. Now, having successfully led a coup against Emperor Gra Lux, he was addressing the nation as its de facto ruler. Despite this whirlwind of change, Gra Lux’s warning about the Americans echoed ominously in the back of his mind.

“I stand before you today not as a conqueror, but as a liberator,” Marix began, his voice resonating throughout the chilly night air. “My only intent is to free our great Empire from the chains of ineffective leadership, and secure a prosperous future for all Gra Valkans!”

His words filled the palace grounds, stirring murmurs of agreement and applause from the War Hawks and proud nationalists. But some remained unconvinced. Though Gra Lux may have steered the Empire in the wrong direction, that didn’t mean Marix should take control of the reins.

“The reign of Emperor Gra Lux has ended,” Marix continued, solidifying his stance. “As of this moment, I assume leadership of the Gra Valkas Empire in accordance with Article 2, Provision 4 of the Imperial Constitution and with the backing of Resolution 348 of the Imperial Senate. Through pride we rise, and I promise to enact policies that will bring an end to our devastating recession!”

While the crowd applauded, the doors behind him burst open. An aide, out of breath and panicked, noticed the crowd and regained his composure before submitting a report to Marix. “Senator,” the aide lowered his voice, “I bear urgent news. We are under attack!”

As if to confirm the aide’s words, several bright flashes erupted in the distance, followed seconds later by the bass of the explosions.

Marix’s heart pounded in his chest. He thought he had already pacified the Emperor’s loyalists. Even if he hadn’t, there should have only been a few stragglers remaining - not nearly enough of a force to cause the violent disturbances he and many others had just borne witness to.

“What? How?” he demanded, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“They’re missile strikes, sir. We received transmissions, transmissions warning of missiles before our communications array was hit. We tried creating a network – a local network – using radios, there’s nothing but static. Our military bases… significant damage,” the aide reported, his voice trembling. “Origin of the missiles… unknown, but…”

More flashes erupted in the distance, toward the direction of the Imperial Naval Base. Marix didn’t need the aide to finish. Jamming and missiles were already clear enough of hints. He knew who was behind this: the Americans.

The abrupt silence as the realization of the attack spread throughout the crowd, was soon drowned by the continuing tremors of distant explosions. Marix scanned the crowd, his mind working quickly, aware of the gazes now fixed on him in fearful anticipation. 

Initially thrown off course by fear and the ominous words of Gra Lux’s warnings, Marix quickly straightened himself. Rather than succumbing to fear, he doubled down and took advantage of the situation. He addressed the microphone again, his voice composed but carrying a weight of gravitas. 

“My fellow Gra Valkans,” he began, his voice echoing through the speakers once again. “Our great Empire is now under attack. The American dogs have made their move, just as WE, the War Hawks, warned they might. We are a proud people, and we will not stand by as foreign aggressors impose their will on our sovereign land.”

With each word, the crowd’s fear seemed to ease, replaced by a growing anger against the invading Americans. Marix played on this, adding, “Our defenses have been caught off guard by a surprise attack; this only displays the cowardice of the Americans, and cower they will the moment we bring the full might of our military in retaliation!”

A roar of applause and cheers swept through the crowd. Marix’s fiery words were already generating momentum. He paused, letting his words sink in before delivering his final blow. “This attack… this treacherous assault on our homeland, was only made possible due to the complacency and failure of our previous leadership. Emperor Gra Lux’s reluctance to act decisively against the Americans led us to this chaos.”

Marix continued, “As your leader, I vow to correct this course. We will respond, we will fight, and we WILL emerge victorious! Remember this day, my people, for it will be the day we truly begin our conquest of this world!”

As he stepped down from the podium, the cheers of the crowd barely registered. His mind was elsewhere, his thoughts consumed with strategies and plans of retaliation. Gra Lux was right about one thing – the Americans’ power and influence were indeed far-reaching, but Marix was determined to prove the old Emperor wrong about his cowardice. He would do everything in his power to keep the Americans on their side of the world, even if it meant introducing the new concept of mutually assured destruction. He was ready for this war, and he would unshackle the Gra Valkan giant and lead his empire to victory.

––

The far-off booms pierced through the silent city. To the unknowing citizens of Ragna, they likely originated from yet another naval exercise. To Lieutenant Jack Riley, each was as clear as a tolling bell.

“Overwatch to Ghosts,” crackled a voice in his earpiece, “Operation Hunter Killer is a go.”

Riley, crouched in the shadows of an alleyway, glanced at his team: Harper with his fingers lightly brushing the detonator, Dalton ready with his sniper rifle, and the rest of Ghost One poised for action.

“Copy, Overwatch,” Riley replied, the excitement of impending action adding a steely edge to his voice.

Around him, the city of Ragna seemed oblivious to the upheaval unfolding on the outskirts of the Imperial District. More blasts erupted throughout the city, intermittently flashing the dark surroundings with orange glows. The city was about to wake up to the chaos.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Richmond nod, his focus locked onto the far end of the street. Ghosts Two and Three were in position as well, securing all angles and ensuring a complete victory over the unsuspecting Gra Valkans. They were in a chokepoint, a narrow strip of road hemmed by two multi-story buildings, with a perfect view of the route the convoy would have to take. Now, it was just a matter of time.

The radio crackled again. “Convoy Tango inbound, ETA three minutes.”

Riley’s heart pounded, adrenaline thrumming in his veins. This was it. The culmination of all their planning and preparation was about to be tested.

A sudden illumination lit up the streets as the headlamps of the first 6x6 transport trucks rounded the corner, the heavy rumble of its engine cutting through the distant alarms and explosions. He counted under his breath. One, two, three vehicles… He caught sight of the distinctive armored personnel carriers, the likely ride of Gra Lux and the other HVTs. Four, five, six…

“Standby, Ghosts,” Riley whispered, the cold edge of the detonator in Harper’s hand now the epicenter of their world.

The convoy rolled closer, the thumping rhythm of the armored vehicles matching the cadence of his heartbeats. A few seconds more and they would be within the kill zone.

“Now,” he said, his voice barely a breath on the wind. Harper’s thumb pressed down on the detonator.

The world erupted in sound and fury. A car parked on the side of the road exploded, the blast ripping into the lead and rear trucks, sending one spiraling into the air. For a moment, the night turned to day as fire consumed the narrow alley, debris flying out in every direction.

Then, as the cacophony of the initial blast faded, the Ghosts sprang into action, their movements choreographed to near perfection.

Dalton, hidden behind the windows of a nearby building, began picking off guards who had staggered from the wreckage, their disorientation making them easy targets. The sharp, precise retorts of his sniper rifle sang out in the night, a lethal symphony that silenced any potential resistance.

In the chaos, Ghosts Two and Three erupted from their hiding spots at the flanks. They poured disciplined fire into the disarrayed guards, their HK416 rifles popping loudly across the street. Their overlapping fields of fire ensured no Gra Valkan soldier could gain a solid footing, let alone mount an effective counterattack.

The Gra Valkan guards were seasoned veterans, but they were ill-prepared for this level of ambush. Some dove for cover, trying to form a perimeter around the personnel carriers containing the HVTs. Others returned fire blindly, their shots wild in their confusion and panic.

Amidst the chaos, Thompson and Johnson moved forward, their rifles barking as they silenced targets with brutal efficiency. They moved like ghosts, their advanced gear and extensive training giving them an edge in the disorienting battleground.

Harper, having already set the stage for the explosive entrance, now worked on getting them access to their HVTs. He moved to the armored personnel carrier after the dust had settled and the remaining Gra Valkan guards had been eliminated. Using a compact breaching charge, he blew the door open, revealing the stunned faces of Gra Lux, and his family. The next carrier was opened to reveal a handful of his close advisors.

“Ghost One-Two to Ghost Actual, HVTs in sight; preparing to secure,” he relayed through the comms, his voice calm amidst the chaos.

Riley, moving to cover Harper, watched as Ghost Two began laying down suppressing fire on a nearby patrol that was now joining the fight. “Copy, Ghost One-Two. Ghost Two, Ghost Three, status?”

“Ghost Two-One, we’re green. Holding northern street.

“Ghost Three-One. Southern perimeter secure. Ready for extraction.”

Satisfied, Riley turned his attention back to Harper, who was now escorting Gra Lux and the other HVTs out of the damaged carriers. They moved quickly towards the rear where Ghost Three was waiting, while Ghost Two kept the rapidly closing patrols busy. Dalton caught up, aiding Ghost Two where he could.

“Overwatch, Ghost Actual,” Riley spoke into his comms as they prepared to move. “Extraction protocol initiated. All HVTs secured. We’re Oscar Mike.”

“Roger, Ghost Actual. Maintain current course. Stay safe.”

The firefight still raged, but they had the HVTs. Now, the hardest part began - getting out of Ragna, a city now fully awake to their presence. And then, the longest journey of their lives - navigating back to the submarines waiting silently in the depths of the ocean. Riley could only hope that the distractions and communication blackouts were enough, but something told him that this operation was only just beginning.