Summoning America

Chapter 185: Out Of Options

As the shock of the attack slowly gave way to a cold, simmering rage, Adler found himself grappling with the unexpected devastation. The GVS Adler, their base of operations, their very home in this hostile sea, had been crippled, perhaps destroyed outright.

And with her went their means of rearming, refueling, and repairing their planes. They were alone now, cut off from support and supply. The realization settled like a leaden weight in Adler's gut.

He circled the burning carriers, his mind spinning with questions. How could this have happened? Where had the missiles come from? And, most pressingly, where were they supposed to go now?

– –

The reports from the front lines had been encouraging, the strike group making steady progress against the enemy fleet. The Muan La Burke-class destroyers had proven to be a nuisance, but nothing that the superior training and technology of the Gra Valkan Navy couldn't overcome. Yet, the sense of foreboding was difficult to shake.

"Admiral Venstrom, sir!" The communications officer's voice was tense, edged with barely contained panic. "Urgent report from the Adler. They've been hit by missiles, origin unknown. Severe damage reported, sir."

Fleet Admiral Falke Venstrom felt his blood run cold, a sudden tightness gripping his chest. The Adler, the pride of the Second Conquest Fleet, struck by missiles? It seemed impossible, a nightmare scenario that he had hoped would never come to fruition. He turned to the officer, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside him. "Get me a full damage report, now. And find out where those missiles came from."

The damage reports began to filter in, each one more grim than the last. The Adler's flight deck was in shambles, her hangar bays a twisted ruin. Fires raged unchecked, and the ship was listing heavily, her crew fighting a desperate battle to keep her afloat. The escort carriers had fared even worse, their ammunition stores ignited by the missile impacts.

Venstrom's jaw clenched as he absorbed the news, his mind already racing ahead to the next steps. They needed to find out who was responsible for this attack, and they needed to do it fast. The Muans couldn't have this kind of capability, could they? And the Americans... no, they were still days away, according to the latest intelligence reports.

He turned to his chief of staff, Rear Admiral Gormund, who had just arrived on the bridge with an ashen face. "Gormund, I need answers. Where did those missiles come from? And how did they catch us so completely off guard?"

Gormund shook his head, his expression grim. "I don't know, sir. Our radar didn't pick up any launches, and there's no sign of enemy ships or planes in the area. It's like they came out of nowhere."

Venstrom nodded, his expression tight with barely contained frustration. There was only one possible answer. "Very well. Gather my officers in the briefing room. We need to assess the situation and decide on our next move."

Minutes later, Venstrom stood at the head of the table, his senior staff taking their seats before him. He could read the tension in their postures, the tight lines around their eyes and mouths. The shock and uncertainty that he felt were mirrored in their faces, a reflection of the grim situation they found themselves in.

"Gentlemen," Venstrom began, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside him. "As you know, the GVS Adler and her escorts have been hit by a missile attack of unknown origin. The damage is severe, and our strike group is now without air support. We need to understand what happened and adjust our strategy accordingly. Commander Eckhardt, what do we know about these missiles?"

Eckhardt leaned forward, his brow furrowed as he spoke. "Not much, sir. As Rear Admiral Gormund said, our sensors didn't pick up any launches. The missiles seemed to come out of nowhere."