Summoning America

June 12, 1639

Rodenius Sea

 

After a few minutes of battle, the Lourian fleet had already been whittled down by 300 ships, with no significant progress attained. In fact, it seemed to Sharkun that the enemy fleet was actually growing in distance, despite his efforts to charge at them. If they couldn’t get close to the enemy ships, his sailors wouldn’t even have a chance at battle. Just how was Sharkun supposed to defeat the enemy?

 

As he was contemplating possible strategies to enact against this new foe, a thought crossed his mind. Should he surrender? If he did, he would be branded as one of the most incompetent admirals in Lourian, perhaps even world history. Losing hundreds of ships to an enemy with only five vessels, and not even damaging one of them in turn was a catastrophic failure. “Damn it,” he muttered. 

 

“Sir?” The flagship’s captain asked. 

 

“It’s nothing…”

 

“No, I mean: sir, what is that?” The captain gestured toward the skies. 

 

A flock of iron dragons descended upon the Lourian vessels, spewing hot lead into their wooden decks. Ominous sounds echoed through the ocean as alien projectiles were rapidly fired at a rate of thousands of rounds per minute. Working in tandem, the metal ships obliterated those of the Lourians with a single shot, while the metal birds shredded them apart. Sharkun was on the verge of tears; his eyes welled up in anger and hopelessness against the unstoppable tide. The scene before him was worse than a nightmare; it was such a one-sided battle that it couldn’t even be imagined!

 

The past ten minutes were like a lifetime for Sharkun. Every minute, over a hundred of his ships fell to the combined aerial and naval assault by the laughably advanced enemies. They were being crushed like bugs. Sometimes, the magical attacks of the enemy ships were powerful enough to wipe out entire clusters of his own, with nearby ships rendered useless by fragments of high-velocity debris. Other times, it looked like only a few of the light bullets from the iron dragon were necessary to mow down his men, sinking them to the depths of the ocean. 

 

Eventually, the fear-inducing flyers and their demonic weaponry left the scene. Sharkun breathed a sigh of relief. “So their magic cannot last forever…”

 

The captain spoke up behind him, surveying the damage caused in that mere ten minutes. “Their magic does not need to last forever. Even if we faced the Parpaldian Empire, it would’ve taken them at least an hour to inflict this many casualties against us.”

 

“Yes…” Sharkun sighed in regret. “Just how powerful are these people?”

 

As he asked this question, he noticed new silhouettes appearing over the horizon, as if the gods were providing an answer. He staggered backward, placing a hand on a wall in order to stabilize himself. Sharkun’s heart sank as he saw dozens of metal warships appear over the horizon. He was so engrossed in the implications of this madness that he didn’t even realize the five metal ships had stopped moving and shooting. Only when the captain tapped him on the shoulder did he return to his senses. 

 

“The metal ships have ceased their actions? What are they—”

 

A loud voice, originating from one of the metal ships, cut him off. “This is the United States Navy! We are giving you once more the option to surrender! Surrender by raising a white flag, and we will guarantee the safety and dignity of your men as prisoners of war! Resistance is futile!”

 

——

 

USS Barry

 

“‘Resistance is futile!’ Really, Captain?” 

 

Captain Winslow chuckled. “Come on now, Master Chief. This planet is a gold mine for being able to use epic lines from pop culture. They don’t know ‘em, so they can’t call it cheesy and whatnot.”

 

Master Chief David Barnes shrugged. “I guess so, sir. I will admit, this was a dang good time to use that line. Although… what will command say about this? I don’t think they want the natives to fear us,” he said. 

 

They both stared at the enemy fleet while they talked. The Lourian ships had ceased their movements, likely considering their options. Meanwhile, the rest of the Seventh Fleet edged closer, with the Super Hornets almost ready to redeploy. 

 

“Eh, they'd prefer it if these natives surrendered quickly. I’m willing to bet a line like that could do the job, especially when dozens of our ships pop up behind us.”

 

Barnes opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it and simply nodded. “So… sir, should we give them another warning? It’s been a while and they’re still just sitting there…”

 

“Hmm, yeah I suppose we can do that.” After Winslow finished his sentence, a white flag was raised on the lead Lourian flagship. “Huh, never mind then,” he said. 

 

——

 

“Admiral Sharkun, what are your orders?”

 

Sharkun looked at his slightly trembling hands and willed himself to put on a strong figure. Already, he had lost over a thousand ships to a force of only five, along with dozens of their aerial units. Seeing their numbers multiply, nearly covering the entire ocean in front of him, was demoralizing. “I… We should heed their word.” Regret and disappointment radiated from Sharkun as he hesitated to give the order. “Hoist a white flag,” he eventually said. 

 

——

 

USS Ronald Reagan

 

Thanks to several UAVs posted above the battlefield, Breweye was able to spectate the Americans’ military prowess in real time. Each flash of light corresponded to a destroyed enemy ship. As he continued to watch, he began to wonder if the Americans had somehow obtained demonic powers. 

 

Lieutenant Vasquez, noticing Breweye’s reactions, walked up to him, her head barely reaching to his shoulders. “It really gets your blood pumpin’, doesn’t it?”

 

“Why, yes. I do believe it does, although… How? How is this possible?” Breweye asked with disbelief. 

 

The sounds of cannons firing continued as Vasquez began her explanation. “I’m not the most familiar with the weapons here, since I’m not an engineer or weapon operator; you might wanna check out the decks below if you wanna know. But, I can tell ya a little bit. That cannon on the front of our ships is a 5-incher, meaning it fires 5-inch shells.” She used her fingers to demonstrate the size, making Breweye feel a bit nervous. 

 

Vasquez laughed, “I sure hope that wasn’t too accurate.”

 

“Oh,” Breweye said with an awkward smile, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Please, continue.”

 

“Well, the shells go way faster than the speed of sound, but I’m not quite sure how fast they go. And let me tell ya, those cannons aren’t even our main weapon. I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell ya about the specs of our ships and how we fight, but just know that this cannon ain’t everything.”

 

Breweye nodded, wondering what other weapons the American ships had in store. Analyzing the ships on the UAV feed, he found no obvious weapons aside from the cannon and several other smaller guns dotted throughout the ship. There were several tubes, curiously enough.

 

“Say, Lieutenant. What are these tubes for?” He pointed at the devices on the screen. 

 

“Engaging hostile air units!” A voice called out. 

 

Lieutenant Vasquez smiled. “Looks like you’re about to find out.”

 

On the screen, the American ships were engulfed in smoke. Breweye wondered if an accident had occurred, but then he noticed the trails of light streaking upward. The UAV operator zoomed in on the missiles, providing a more detailed view of the engagement. Breweye watched as the guided light arrows made impact with several Lourian wyvern knights and eradicated them, leaving nothing but charred parts behind. The remaining wyverns were subsequently cleaned up by the ‘5-inchers’ with unparalleled accuracy, before engaging with the Lourian fleet. 

 

“What… what in the damned A.S.E is that?” Breweye stuttered. 

 

“Ayy ess eee?”

 

“Ancient sorcerous empire. It’s not a name we invoke very often, but the tales have described similar weapons. Magical guided light arrows, weapons that travel faster than sound, and so on.”

 

“Ancient sorcerous empire?” Lieutenant Vasquez was utterly confused. 

 

“They called themselves the Ravernal Empire. Everyone on this world knows of their tale,” he said, curiously eyeing Vasquez. “I suppose the rumors are true then… you really have come from a different world.”

 

“Interesting…” Lieutenant Vasquez muttered. She decided to change the subject. “In an hour or so we’ll reach Destroyer Squadron 15’s position. We should be popping up over the horizon, from their perspective, sometime in a half an hour though.”

 

“That fast?” Breweye asked. 

 

“Yep. It’s gonna be a while though, so just enjoy the show,” she replied, gesturing towards the descending Super Hornets. 

 

Breweye spectated the ensuing battle, nearly at a loss for words. Every so often, he glanced at Lieutenant Vasquez, both to admire her beauty and determine her reaction. She was also invested in watching the feed, but did not show any overtly confused reactions like he was. Instead, the lieutenant seemed to watch the video with glee, making a shiver crawl down his spine. ‘What the hell,’ he thought to himself. ‘Are all hot girls crazy?’

 

He mustered the strength to satisfy his curiosity. “Eh, Lieutenant.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you… enjoying this?”

 

“Oh, haha. Was I smiling a bit too much?”

 

“Err, yes,” Breweye said, scratching the back of his head. 

 

“Well, it’s not everyday you get to see an epic fireworks show like this. What, I thought all dudes loved explosions?”

 

“I suppose I do,” Breweye said. “I’ve just never seen explosions like this before…”

 

Vasquez clasped her hand on his back. “Don’t you worry, Sir Breweye. Maybe I can take you to a movie sometime, and I can show you some cool explosions.”

 

Breweye once more felt heat rising to his cheeks. “Uhh…” His brain seemed to lack the necessary blood for decision-making, and instead the lower part of his body answered. Despite not knowing what a ‘movie’ was, he readily complied. “Yes, Lieutenant. I would love to do that.”

 

“Cool,” Vasquez said with a grin. “Oh hey, would ya look at that, the Lourians surrendered!” She pointed at a lone ship among the Lourian formation, a white flag hoisted above it. 

 

“Good heavens…” 

 

——

 

“Well, well, well. If it ain’t the Silver Baron.”

 

Richthofen just returned from the sorties conducted on the enemy fleet, and the first person he ran into was Colonel Henson. 

 

“Sir,” he said, giving a lazy salute. 

 

“Tsk, I bet you had a shit ton of fun down there…”

 

Richthofen smirked. “Sure did, Henson. A small part of me felt sorry for the poor fellas on those ships. It was like shootin’ fish in a barrel!”

 

“I bet,” Henson replied. “And now, I’ve gotta clean up after your goddamn mess. Well, I guess it’s better than nothing.”

 

“Oh? Y’all are finally gettin’ to do something?”

 

“Yeap, Admiral Hawthorne wants to help collect the survivors and make sure none of the natives act out. Shit, after seeing that Michael Bay shit, I bet they’d piss their pants even thinking about fighting back. And if they for some God-forsaken reason do, they’ll be going up against the finest motherfuckers on the high seas.”

 

Richthofen chuckled. “Alright man, I’ll leave you to it then.” He walked away, then turned around again. “Oh, you’re still getting me that beer once we get back to Maihark, right?”

 

Colonel Henson shook his head, smiling. “Damn, I almost thought you forgot.”

 

Richthofen laughed and waved goodbye before leaving Colonel Henson to his duties. He sighed, appreciating a bit of silence until he was interrupted by a transmission sent out on the intercom. 

 

“Colonel Henson, please report to the bridge.”

 

He walked up to the bridge, muttering swears along the way. He wondered why they needed him. Had the Lourians actually tried to fight against his marines? He pushed the thoughts aside as he entered the bridge. There, he discovered why he was needed. 

 

“Damn, we got their admiral? Who’s that?” He looked over to a mysterious individual wearing a cloak, very much unlike the rest of the Lourian uniforms. 

 

Admiral Hawthorne held up a strange device, similar to the Qua Toynian mana-comms, except visibly more compact and advanced. “I have no clue, Colonel. That’s why you’re in charge of getting Intel out of this man until we transfer him to the CIA. Hopefully, we can find enough information to hold on to him.”

 

“Well, alright then sir. Consider it done.” A wild look flashed over his eyes, terrifying the cloaked man. “I’ve been itchin’ to see some action,” Henson said, cracking his knuckles. 

 

——

 

Government Conference Area (Lotus Garden)

Qua Toyne Principality

 

“And… that concludes the report.” Breweye looked up from his notes with a nervous smile. 

 

“What?” Foreign Minister Matara asked, dumbfounded.

 

“That concludes the report,” Breweye said. 

 

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Matara furiously shook his head. “I mean, what in the ASE is this… this completely absurd report? We sent you to observe the Americans, not write fantasy stories!”

 

Prime Minister Kanata held out his hand. “Please call yourself, Foreign Minister. Let the man explain himself.”

 

A Qua Toynian general raised his hand. “Pardon me, but just how is he supposed to explain this?” He picked up a paper and read. “‘Five ships of the United States Navy, supplemented by four squadrons of their fighter jets, laid waste to the enemy fleet. In about ten minutes, a thousand Lourian ships were annihilated.’ Surely, this might be believable if we considered a decisive battle between, say, the Holy Mirishial Empire and the Lourian Kingdom, but to declare that only five ships were able to incur this damage is beyond ridiculous! Much less in only TEN minutes!”

 

Kanata let the general rant, then returned to Breweye. “Observational Officer Breweye, you have our attention.”

 

Breweye bowed. “Yes, Prime Minister Sir! I believe Matara was correct, when he said ‘What in the ASE is this!’”

 

“Woah!” Matara exclaimed. “Are you suggesting…”

 

“The weapons employed by the Americans bear striking resemblance to the weapons described in our ancient tales,” Breweye explained. 

 

“But then… that means we’re already in the hands of the ultimate enemy!” Matara wailed. 

 

“Please, Matara. Calm down! If they were the Ancient Sorcerous Empire, we’d already be dead or enslaved. It’s likely a coincidence, perhaps even an extremely lucky coincidence, that they were summoned,” Kanata said wisely. 

 

“Oh,” Matara bowed, hiding his embarrassed face. “I apologize, Prime Minister. I suppose your analysis is indeed correct…”

 

“Now,” Kanata said, “Breweye, please continue.”

 

“Yes. The American navy was able to sink at least one Lourian ship per cannon shot, with a rate of fire approaching 20 shots per minute. Their aircraft spewed rapid light bullets, shredding the Lourian vessels with each passing strafe.”

 

“Okay, perhaps they were able to do that and we may venture out to sea to find the remnants of this battle, but what of the American casualties? You listed here that they emerged unscathed!” The General claimed.

 

“Ah, I actually wrote that they did suffer some damage…” Breweye replied meekly. 

 

“Are you joking?” He glanced at the report. “Paint damage caused by a fire arrow?! This isn’t a local tavern where you can indulge in tall tales!”

 

Breweye sighed. Prior to the meeting, he considered reporting that the Americans suffered no damage at all, but that might seem too unbelievable. Only now, as he shielded himself against a general’s berating, did he realize that the ‘paint damage’ claim could be seen as a joke. “General, if you do not believe the report, you may visit the port in Maihark to inspect their ships yourself.”

 

The general opened his mouth, ready to rebuke Breweye, but was cut off by Kanata. Kanata folded his hands. “But, what of the validity of these claims? We can’t verify them, as you were the only one present.”

 

“Oh, Prime Minister. At request, the Americans will send something known as a video to their embassy here. We can go there to watch the events that transpired, which have been recorded by some sort of magic. Alternatively, we may request Ambassador Sanders here, so he may show all of us the video.”

 

Kanata tilted his head. “Hmm, it is settled then. We shall request for Ambassador Anders; I would like to see this ‘video’ for myself. Moving on, what are the Americans’ next plans?”

 

Sir Yagou spoke up. “Prime Minister, the Americans have informed us that they’ll be establishing several bases, from a naval base near Maihark to their most recent construction project: a base located on the Daidar Plains, approximately 10 kilometers east of Ejei. They wish to ask permission before they begin construction.”

 

“The Daidar Plains? There’s almost nothing there.” Kanata raised an eyebrow. “Very well then. Grant them access to the Daidar Plains.”