Chapter 1

The USS Ronald Reagan’s massive steel-gray hull rested in the open waters of San Diego Bay. Whitecaps rolled and crashed into the ship’s side, sending salty ocean spray into the air. Clouds from overhead shielded the water from the sun in oddly shaped patches. What sunlight did manage to escape the cloud cover illuminated the water in blues and greens, contrasting against the patches of dark where the sunlight was unable to penetrate the clouds.

The same shadows were cast in the distance, no more than one thousand yards away, where a fleet of Mexican warships waited ominously in the distance. From the deck of the USS Ronald Reagan, they looked small, weak, easily crushed. But the distance deceived the mounted guns and missile systems primed to follow orders.

Captain Howard’s watchful gaze had yet to leave the threat across the horizon. As far as he was concerned, this was still his ship. These were still his waters. And if the Mexicans chose to engage in deadly force, then he would answer in kind.

Captain Ford, who had come to Howard’s aid the day prior after an already successful bout of fending off the Mexican ships, walked up behind him. He stood a good six inches shorter than Howard but had the tenacity of a bulldog.

“More warships arrived during the night,” Howard said.

“What do you think Gallo will do?” Ford asked.

“Right now he’s a mad dog foaming at the mouth, and he knows that the rest of the Pacific Fleet has been deployed north to watch over the Alaskan fisheries. If I was him, I would make my move soon.”

Howard had met Gallo years ago, before he was a general, back when the United States and Mexico were beginning talks on how to deal with the water shortages that were then turning into a crisis. The United States had still had the upper hand in brute force, so the Mexican government had no choice but to “comply” with the American president’s course of action. He remembered seeing the revulsion on Gallo’s face. He knew Gallo would give the order. He just didn’t know when.

“What’s the word from the Pentagon?” Howard asked.

“Since California’s not our problem anymore, they don’t want me to stick around for much longer. But like I told you, we have to make sure this ship is seaworthy. It’s already seen a lot of action.”

“If they attack us while you’re here, we’ll have a full-scale war on our hands.”

Both men knew what that meant if it came to pass. Metal. Blood. Death. The two captains had an understanding of when to follow orders and when not too. Those same beliefs led Howard to commandeer the USS Ronald Reagan after he was relieved of duty for not abandoning the Southwest after the exile. Unlike most of the representatives of Congress, the two men standing on the deck of that air wing knew that a country was more than just lines on a map.

“Captain!” Pint yelled.

Both Howard and Ford turned around to see Sergeant Pint sprinting toward them across the flight deck. The sergeant was barely able to keep his glasses and hat on his head from his pace. He keeled over onto his knees after reaching Howard, heaving deep breaths.

“They’ve officially broken out of international waters. They’ve engaged, sir,” Pint said.

“Captain, this is still your show,” Ford said.

“Sergeant, prepare the flag bridge,” Howard replied.

The three of them marched toward the carrier’s island. The harsh shrill of sirens signaled all available soldiers to man their stations. The flight deck swarmed, alive with activity. Once the captains were inside the flag bridge, first class petty officer Kent stood to salute.

“Officers on deck!” Kent said.

“At ease,” Howard said.

The flag bridge of the USS Ronald Reagan would allow Howard and Ford to conduct the entire battle from one location. Radar, missile, communications, and defense systems were all integrated seamlessly. The aircraft carrier was more than just a runway strip for the Navy’s jets; it was the epicenter of every naval battle.

“How far out are Gallo’s ships?” Ford asked.

“Half a mile, sir,” Kent answered.

“Scramble the jets,” Howard ordered.

Plane directors, arresting gear officers, and catapult officers carried out their duties with efficient mastery. The system in place could launch an aircraft every thirty seconds.

“Confirmed enemy missile launch,” Kent said.

“Deploy defensive tactics,” Howard replied.

A stream of smoke and fire erupted from the missile systems of the two American warships escorting the USS Ronald Reagan. The coordinated launch set a deadly course to intercept the incoming missiles. The missiles twisted and whined through the air at hundreds of miles per hour. Upon their contact with the enemy strike, the sky erupted with fireworks of war. Vibrations from the blasts rippled through the air and into the chests of everyone aboard the ship.

“Launch counterstrike,” Howard said.

A larger, more lethal volley of missiles set course for the attacking Mexican ships. The enemy warships enacted their own countermeasures but became overwhelmed. Red-and-black explosions of heat and steel rocked the Mexican warships. Howard watched smoke plume from the enemy ships. With the majority of the Mexican warships now burning, the American-launched F-15 aircraft controlled the sky.

“Good effect,” Kent answered.

The blue western horizon became diluted with fires and smoke. The distress signals coming in from the Mexican ships began to fill airways. But there would be no response. Gallo had only attacked the lone USS Ronald Reagan because he thought the surrounding American ships would not engage. The cries for help over the radio waves would fall on deaf ears.