0945 hours
Nine (9) days after first contact

The meeting had been quick and to the point. By a majority vote, the group of military commanders had chosen to go ahead with the next phase of planning: Preparing for the next invasion. A city had been chosen, only fifty miles up the coast. On the maps that had been quickly copied and spread among the fleet and ground units, it was labeled 'Manehatten' - a pun if there ever was one - and had a stated population of five-point-two million. The majority of the city center was situated on an island, with many of the less built-up areas on the mainland surrounding the island on three sides.

The city itself was heavily urbanized, with soaring skyscrapers filling the downtown areas. From prisoner reports, it had been reported and then confirmed via UAV that it had an immense naval force inside, with fifty-four various wooden ships being identified as combat-capable.

After the meeting had ended, the commanders quickly told their subordinates to put together the plans. These men, in turn, coordinated with one another to draw up an effective attack plan. Less than twenty minutes later, the beginning of a plan began to take form, building upon itself and becoming more and more complete with every passing minute...

"That won't work." One man persisted. "We don't have enough Av-gas to fly helicopter operations for a lengthy period. All the combat units came through with their supporting units, but there are not enough fuel trucks to supply our helicopters in the field."

"Just move the Sevastopol off of the coast, as planned." Another replied.

"Will the Russians comply?" A third interjected.

"They'd damn well better, if we decide on that. We'll be providing most of the land support." The first said. "That's actually a good idea. The Sevastopol has enough Av-gas on board for quite a while of operations, and has ordnance practically strewn around."

The third nodded. "Good. Now let's go over the first phase." The three moved to a large table, fitting with a touchscreen, two-dimensional map of the city. The man tapped several placed on it with his fingers, marking several locations. "The assault will begin early in the morning. We will land significant land forces at various, strategic points inside of the city via helicopter. At the same time, a ground assault will hit from the south and east, cutting off the rail line and seizing portions of the city.

"In the meantime, our aircraft and naval ships will provide fire support, wrecking whatever ships they may sail out and hitting strongpoints of resistance. We'll have a CAP over the city 24/7, flying from the Gerald R. Ford and that Russian carrier-"

"Admiral Kuznetsov." The first interjected.

"Right. First estimates are two or three days to secure the city, with a 600-man unit left to retain control. The assault will be made by major elements of the 161st National Guard, with smaller groups of the Russian units to back them up. We're going to have an easy time telling each other from the ponies, but civilian casualties are a worry. We'll be advising the men about that, so it's not too big of a worry.

"Questions?" He asked.

There were none.

"Then it's settled." He said. "Send this up the pipeline. Now on to the fleet composition..."

1036 hours

"Load up and get buckled in!" Anthony heard someone shout over the sound of the CH-47F Chinook as the massive helicopter landed. After he and his friend has escorted that officer into the warehouse - and then fought out of it - they had been transferred back to the observatory on the hilltop. However, hours earlier, they had been ordered to take their weapons, ammunition, and equipment and to prepare for redeployment.

Anthony did not know the entire picture, but his best guess from the chatter over the 'Net' units was a massive redeployment, and that could mean only one thing: They were going on the offensive again.

The Marine quickly ran into the Chinook, taking a seat on the side of the large cargo bay and strapping himself in and several dozen others did the same. All too quickly, the door close, and the large helicopter lifted off, turning to the east.

"What do you think is going on?" Somebody to his left asked.

"Half of the people in the city are redeploying to the Firebase or some ship, and you really have to ask?" Anthony replied. "We're going on the offensive again, so you'd better make sure you have your flak vest on right, because we're going into combat soon enough."

The Firebase was quickly stirring alive, as thousands of Washington National Guard and Russian Army soldiers gathered their gear, readied their vehicles, and formed up.

In the middle of this chaos, Lieutenant Robert Johnson directed his small US Army mechanized platoon through the crowds of soldiers and occasional tanks and vehicles.

"We're set to move half a click outside of the Firebase." Johnson told his platoon over his 'Net' unit. "Everyone, stay inside of your vehicles. We don't need the distraction of trying to track you all down."

A chorus of acknowledgments came over the radio. Johnson didn't respond, instead staying firmly in his seat in the back of the first Stryker. Three of them, including the one he was in, were of the ICV (Infantry Carrier Vehicle) variant, and the last one was of the MGS (Mobile Gun System, mounting a 105mm cannon in a remote turret) variant. All four were slowly making their way out of the camp, towards their rally point on the field outside of it.

"We're out of the camp, speeding up." The driver told them over the radio.

"Good. Get us to the rally point." Johnson ordered.

The ICV passed by dozens of other vehicles, from Russian BMP-3s and T-90s to American M1A3 Abrams tanks and M2A3 Bradleys. When they reached the marked area, the drivers rolled their vehicles to a stop. taking their places. And with that, their job was over, and Lieutenant Johnson could only sit back and wait for instructions.

"It's good to be back in the air, at least." First Lieutenant Miller murmured as he gripped the control column of his F/A-18E/F. The entire left side had to be picked apart, a new engine installed, and repair made to the exterior after his engine had blown over the city they now controlled. It had been a rush job, but he was two hours into the flight patrol already, and had not encountered any problems so far.

"Well, Slam." His wingman said in reply. "Out there somewhere is a pegasus with a plan, and that fucker is probably going to tell all his little pegasus buddies how he turned your plane into a large sixty-six-million-dollar glider. At first, I thought only the Air Force could pick up rocks like that, but then the little flying bastards figured out how to express-deliver them to you."

"Ha ha." Miller deadpanned as his wingman laughed. He had been given the nickname 'Slam' shortly after he had landed his damaged jet, for the way it had practically bounced onto the deck as he brought it in. He'd been trying to get away from it ever since. "You know what? F-"

"Skybreaker 2-1, this is Firebase." His radio blurted, interrupting Miller in the middle of his response.

"Go ahead, Firebase." The Navy aviator hastily replied.

"Large radar contact to the north of the Firebase, fifty kilometers out. It's heading straight for our position. Can you get a visual?"

"Copy, I can be in position in four minutes." Miller replied. "Skybreaker 2-1 out."

"Let's bank to the east. I'll be right behind you, Slam." His wingman said.

"Banking." Miller replied, turning his aircraft right in a large arc to the east. He leveled out quickly, only to push his control stick down. "Descend to Angels six."

"Copy." His wingman said in reply, following him as they descended from twelve thousand feet to six thousand.

Soon enough, they were within visual range of the return, and Miller could scarcely believe his eyes.

"What in God's name is that?" His wingman blurted.

"Skybreaker 2-1, this is Firebase. What do you see?" Miller's radio said.

"Firebase, this is Skybreaker 2-1." Miller replied quickly. "Six kilometers from an unknown target. It's a large, wooden ship, and it's moving about four kilometers above the ground."

"Say again, Skybreaker 2-1. Did you say a wooden ship above the ground?" An incredulous voice replied.

"Affirmative, moving south at twenty kilometers an hour!" Miller replied as his flight moved towards it. "I'm four kilometers away. I can see catapults on the deck. The entire thing is suspended beneath a massive balloon, easily half again as big as the ship. The ship itself is bigger than the galleons they destroyed in the harbor! I can't believe my damn eyes here, Firebase!"

"Skybreaker Lead, this is Major Thompson. Close with the target and engage!" A voice said over dozens of others moments later. "You are cleared hot. Take it down."

"Copy. Cleared hot." Miller replied, switching to his AIM-9X Sidewinders. They acquired a large heat source dead-center: The entirety of the ship. "Slam, Fox two."

With that, he triggered two of the heat-seeking missiles, sending both streaking forward. He noted that he was less than a kilometer from the ship, hundreds of dots of gold visible on the deck. He pulled on the stick, sending the fighter jet up and over the top of the flying ship, his wingman half a second behind him.

The first and second missiles had already impacted moments before, one slamming into the rear superstructure of the massive airship, while the other impacted dead-center. The first one blew apart the rear of the ship, severing the ropes connecting it to the balloon and sending the back tipping down. The second broke the keel of the ship, breaking it in two.

The back half of the ship swiftly dropped like a stone towards the ground, while the other half, held in the air by its' connection to the balloon, slowly started to sink towards the ground. The balloon had been punctured hundreds of times, and the hydrogen gas inside swiftly started to escape. Less than three minutes later, to the morbid fascination of a circling Lieutenant Miller, it smashed into the ground at thirty kilometers per hour, breaking apart in an instant.

Miller and his wingman broke off moments later, their fighters chased - but not caught - by several dozen pegasi that had jumped off. They were eventually left behind, leaving the two aviators alone for their flight back to the Gerald R. Ford.

Along the way, they passed the massive area outside of the Firebase, where thousands of men and hundreds of vehicles were preparing for something. What it was, Miller didn't know, but he guess that he would be told when he needed to be.

After all, it couldn't be too bad. Could it?

Author's Note

I decided to move the invasion from this chapter to the beginning of the next Act. Sorry, but I needed more space to build up the plot.

Also, sorry for the massive delays. I've come down with a very dangerous addiction known as laziness and STALKER: Shadow of Chernobyl. If any of you know a cure to these terrible conditions, please elaborate on it. Also, I had to spend two days cleaning a virus from my system because my father likes to click 'yes' whenever a pop-up comes up, and thus it fell to me to preform computer repair.

I'm going to be publishing a one-shot soon, and it's going to be my second attempt at comedy. Wish me luck. Several intermission chapters will also come out during the small break between Act V and Act VI. This is mostly to try and beak my Writer's Block, if nothing else.