Summoning America

Chapter 8: One Sided

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."