Summoning America

Chapter 156: The Eagle's Gift

Author's Note (Story and Patreon Updates):

158 is now out for all Tier 2 Patrons and higher! Tier 2 Patrons and higher will be able to read one chapter ahead!

Manifest Fantasy Chapter 1 will be released on October 3, exclusively on RoyalRoad. Manifest Fantasy chapters will be uploaded concurrently alongside Summoning America chapters (I will be working on both at the same time). This double upload is the last one for the foreseeable future.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/drdoritosmd

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December 25, 1640
U.S. Navy Seventh Fleet
USS Gerald R. Ford

Admiral William Hawthorne stepped onto the bridge, momentarily pausing to absorb the serene seascape that stretched to the horizon. The sky transitioned from fading oranges to brightening blues, signaling the onset of morning. Even the ocean, a mirror for the sky's tranquil hues, concealed the reality of the impending conflict. A quiet breath escaped him, as though inhaling the calm himself, before he turned back to the world of data and decisions that awaited him.

Inside the bridge, sailors moved purposefully between their stations, the soft chatter of subdued but focused conversations filling the air. Displays blinked with real-time data, and the machinery behind the scenes hummed with quiet efficiency. Amidst it all, a miniature Christmas tree nestled discreetly near the navigation station, and some crew members wore Santa hats, a testament to the day's significance.

Hawthorne felt a tinge of irritation at the Gra Valkans for robbing him and his crew of a cherished holiday. As his eyes briefly met those of Lieutenant Carver, an unspoken understanding passed between them. Years of service had imparted the wisdom to make even a battle on Christmas Day a matter of personal score-settling.

As he surveyed the room, he saw other narratives unfold. Commander Stevens, ever the focused bachelor, seemed unfazed by the holiday, his eyes locked onto the mission at hand. Yet the weight of conducting war on a day meant for peace imprinted itself on each face, etching varying degrees of emotion, resolve, and expectation.

The incongruity was not lost on Hawthorne as he tore his gaze away from the ocean's deceptive calm. He had drawn enough from its quietude; now, his full attention to the storm that was inevitably gathering. He gave one last lingering glance at the tranquil sea before him, then turned on his heel.

Descending from the bridge, Hawthorne's footsteps grew more purposeful with each step. As the hatch to the CIC opened, a sailor immediately called out, "Admiral on deck!"

The room came to attention, eyes briefly leaving the state-of-the-art screens and conversations halting.

"As you were," Hawthorne commanded, allowing the room to return to its orchestrated chaos.

"Admiral, the Hawkeye's latest data has been integrated into the CIC's feed," Captain Roberts announced.

"Excellent. Let's update the tactical picture." Hawthorne moved toward the large screen displaying a complex overlay of the Cartalpas Bay region.

An operations specialist stepped forward. "Sir, the bulk of the Gra Valkan force is retreating, with a minor force of battleship divisions advancing into the bay. Our sonobuoys, deployed by P-8S, have provided us a detailed underwater acoustic picture. We've identified two battleship divisions, totaling four battleships, supported by a mix of eight cruisers and twelve destroyers. Additionally, sonar confirms the presence of ten submarines, likely organized into two squadrons."

Hawthorne studied the screen, the layers of information morphing into a battlefield mosaic in his mind. The Gra Valkans, outmatched and outgunned, had decided to leave a sacrificial force to cover their main fleet's retreat.