Six hundred miles east of Japan, USS Reagan surged west at ahead full. Standing on the Bridge, Captain CJ Berger peered through the windows at the Flight Deck fifty feet below. The first four Super Hornets were in tension in their catapults, their engine exhausts glowing red in the darkness, waiting for the order to launch. Along both sides of the ship, the four elevators were loaded and rising upward, bringing additional Super Hornets topside from the Hangar Deck below. Not far behind Reagan, the three MEFs aboard their amphibious assault ships trailed, banking on the ability of the Atlantic Fleet submarines in front of them to clear a safe path ashore. Berger would have preferred to wait until the submarines had downloaded new torpedo software, but time was running out.
As anticipated, Japanese resistance had deteriorated, leaving only one beachhead in JSDF hands, and Reagan and the MEFs could wait no longer. Unfortunately, satellites and tactical data links were still down and Chinese command and control and their missile batteries were still fully operational, able to engage the carrier and its air wing as they approached Japan. In a few minutes, Berger would commence flight operations, launching Reagan’s air wing just outside range of China’s DF-21 missiles. However, the aircraft had insufficient fuel to complete a round-trip to their current location; Reagan would have to close to within range of the DF-21 missiles to retrieve the aircraft after their missions were complete. With its small escort of only six surface combatants—all heavily damaged—the Reagan Task Force was ill equipped to defend against even a modest attack of DF-21 missiles. Chinese command and control and their missile batteries had better be disabled within the next two hours, or Reagan would end up on the bottom of the Pacific, just like its five sister carriers.
In front of Reagan, the Submarine Force had established a protective cone of submarines, proceeding in front of the carrier strike group and wrapping back along the sides of the trailing amphibs. However, they were currently nothing more than a sophisticated underwater alarm system. Although they could communicate with Reagan via line-of-sight comms and report enemy submarines, there was nothing more they could do. Their torpedoes were still infected with malware and would dud as soon as they received the first Chinese sonar pulse.
Reagan’s Air Wing Commander, Captain Emil Jones, stopped beside Berger, his eyes following CJ’s to the Flight Deck below. The two men stared through the Bridge windows in silence for a moment, until their thoughts were interrupted by the Air Boss’s voice over the 23-MC. “Request Green Deck.”
Berger pulled the mic from its holster as he pressed the green button. “Tower, Bridge. You have Green Deck.”
Orders were relayed to the Flight Deck, and seconds later, the first Super Hornet, locked into CAT One, screamed toward the carrier’s bow, the aircraft’s white-hot engine exhaust fading in the darkness as it rose into the sky. The succeeding three aircraft were hurtled from the carrier’s deck as the catapults shot forward, and additional Super Hornets moved toward the catapults, continuing the steady flow of aircraft launched into the darkness.