So it's been awhile since I've written anything but here I am again with a project that I'm bound to enjoy working on granted I can find the time to do so. Time is hard to come by when the military is jerking you every which way, NCO school really does a number on your schedule. This first chapter started as a bit of an experiment and it took me a hot minute to finally settle on a plot and time line I could roll with. Either way I'll step down an let y'all read.

Chapter One:

CVB-41

August 24, 1950, Mediterranean Sea, 02:21

Grant Whalen awoke with a jolt, it was early in the morning and the sun had yet to rise. But someone was knocking on the door to his cabin, Whalen reached over and turned on a desk lamp, across the cabin his friend and fellow VFA-32 pilot Gordon Knox was also roused from his sleep.

"For Christ sake it's two in the morning." Knox said in a groggy haze.

Whalen stood up and lumbered over towards the door, careful not to trip over anything he cracked open the door and looked out into the walkway. Franklin Reed, the new kid to the unit, stood there dressed to fly with a look of worry on his face. Whalen opened the door the rest of the way and leaned on the door frame.

"For the love of god Franklin, it's too damn early for this. Why the hell does it look like you're about to go on mission?"

The young ensign was quick to apologize.

"I'm sorry sir but something big has come up, Skipper wants all pilots to be ready to fly and in the ready room."

Knox walked up behind Whalen. "What? Why? The hell is going on?"

"I don't know sir."

Whalen rolled his eyes. "You got to know something Franklin or you wouldn't be waking me up at this godforsaken hour."

Reed took a deep breath and looked up at his superiors, the panic could clearly be seen in his eyes.

"Sir, I think World War Three just kicked off."

Whalen stood there agape at the news, in late 1950 the possibility of a third world war was not far off. Soviet fighters were actively attacking American aircraft and the events of the Berlin airlift were still fresh in the minds of the people. On top of that the Soviets had shattered America's nuclear monopoly with the successful testing of its own atomic weapon. In short a Third World War was nothing to joke about.

Whalen nodded to Reed and told him to keep on waking pilots. He then turned around and reached under his bunk, pulled out his uniform and quickly got dressed. He hadn't finished tying his boots before he and Knox were racing down the winding passageways of the USS Midway.

Midway, the lead ship of her class had been commissioned just a week after the second world war had ended. In the early days of the cold war Midway had maintained a presence in the Mediterranean and Atlantic. Her mission was simple, support the Mediterranean nations against Communist pressure, if war kicked off then her mission changed to prevent the Soviets from getting access to a warm water port.

The two pilots entered the ready room, the ready room was laid out like a theater with rows of fold-out seats and a projector screen up front with a podium canted off to the side. Some of the younger pilots huddled around the veterans likes Captain Martin Dugald and Lieutenant William Klein, both World War two flyers. The ready room was buzzing with nervous chatter, the entire squadron had assembled in the room save for one.

Whalen sat behind Dugald and Klein, both of the World Wars two pilots looked over him and nodded. Like them, Whalen was a Korean war vet the only exception was that he was not a fighter pilot. Whalen had started out as a recon pilot flying an OS2U Kingfisher, he had put in his lot for fighters after the war and much to his joy his transfer was accepted.

"What goin' on Bill?"

Klein shrugged and shook his head.

"Beats me, an orderly woke us up 'bout fifteen minutes ago."

Whalen did have time to ask a follow-up question before the Skipper, Lieutenant Commander Jonathan "Skipper" Ross, entered the room and stood behind the podium.

"Alright sit down and listen up." The Skipper commanded, the chatter almost immediately died down as nervous pilots found their seats. The Skipper looked around taking a mental note of who was in attendance. "Here's the skinny, the Reds are mobilizing, so we're mobilizing too. Is this the start of World War Three? Who the hell knows, all they're telling us is Code Three be on alert."

When the Skipper spoke all the pilots listened, he had seen war before as a Dauntless pilot aboard the USS Enterprise during the war in the Pacific. At thirty-eight years old he was already an old man in the eyes of the younger pilots. The Skipper stepped aside and let an intel officer take his place.

"The Soviets might be planning to hop the strait into Alaska. Or they might be gearing up for a race through Germany and into Paris then up to Denmark and Norway. Right now it's not clear but we are to be ready to move at a moment's notice."

Whalen could see the parallels between the Soviet plan and that of the Nazis. If war was to erupt on the European continent it would mirror the German Blitzkrieg, and if the Soviets conquered France and the Scandinavian countries they could be looking at the Battle of Britain 2.0. The intel officer back away from the podium and let the Skipper take his place.

"Midway's concern is the eastern Mediterranean, we'll be flying top cover for the Turks and Greeks. Leyte's flyboys will handle the rest. A third of the squadron is to be suited up and in their fighters. Whalen, Reed, Klein, Dugald, Donato, Nadolski, Dupont, Koch. Get topside and get ready to fly, I suggest the rest of you sleep while you can. It's gonna be a busy night."

XXXXX

Dressed to fly, Whalen and Reed stepped out from the island onto the flight deck and ran to their fighters. In the trenches along the flight deck sailors manned their stations loading 20mm cannons and aiming them towards the sky. Midway was miles from the coast but that didn't prevent the crew from being on edge. At any moment Soviet aircraft could dive from the skies.

Whalen sat in his Corsair, a scuffling sound could be heard from behind the wing as someone climbed up his fighter. He turned around to see his wingman standing on the wing and making his way towards the cockpit.

"Hey Grant," Reed whispered through the darkness. "You hear the rumors?"

"Nope."

"Some of the guys are saying there are saboteurs on board. Russian agents who enlisted as sailors." Reed replied, his voice was high pitched with concern.

"Jesus Christ. Let's hope that it's just a rumor."

Reed nodded and slid off the wing of the Corsairs and ran over towards his fighter. At the age of 26, Whalen was the poster child of an American fighter pilot, brown hair, lively hazel eyes, and a brown leather flight jacket. Whalen flipped up the color of his jacket trying to shield himself against the cold

XXXXX

Captain Nathan Bauer stood on the bridge of the Midway looking down at the fighters below. He wore a Khaki uniform commonly worn by naval officers, at the age of 47 his hair was turning grey as the years ticked by. Bauer turned to one of the bridge officers.

"Meyer why the hell aren't those fighters below deck!" The veteran officer barked.

Lieutenant Commander Jacob Meyer, a 34-year-old man from Memphis, looked up from a map of the Mediterranean.

"We're still at Code Three sir, we need a third of the Thirty Second on alert."

Bauer ran a hand across his face and scratched his chin.

"Christ almighty, we got a hurricane coming our way get those boys below deck before they're blown off it."

"Aye sir." Meyer replied he paced across the bridge and over to a phone that connected him to the ship's intercom. He pulled the phone from it's mount to make his announcement.

"All hands stand down, I repeat all hands. Clear the flight deck and secure those planes below deck," Meyer paused to take a breath, he took a look over at the captain who was eyeing the building storm clouds. "We're sailing right into a storm folks, secure ordinance in the magazine and make sure all aircraft are tied down in the hangar. We're riding this one out."

In his mind Meyer knew Captain Bauer had made the right call, already the seas had gotten worse as wakes smashed against the side of the Midway. He hung up the phone and stood next to the captain. To the right of the Carrier the Destroyers DD-840 USS Glennon and DD-832 Hanson tossed and turned in the waves, to the left the Battle Cruiser CB-1 Alaska didn't fare much better.

"Out of all the times to get caught in a storm," Bauer muttered, the captain paced over to a radio and seized it. "CIC, Bridge. Anything on radar?"

"Bridge we can't see a damn thing in this storm." The TAO replied.

"How about sonar?"

"Negative."

"So we're blind." Bauer stated.

There was silence for a few seconds before the TAO replied.

"Yes sir."

"Work the problem Lieutenant, I don't want to be in the dark when Ivan comes our way." Bauer hung up the hand mic.

"Sir, we've lost communication with our escorts."

"As if things couldn't get any worse." The captain muttered. "Signal them, tell them to hold formation. The last thing we need is a collision in this mess."

"Aye sir."

Meyer was about to relay the order to one of the bridge crew when a dull white light began to fill the bridge. Off the bow of the ship a small glowing white sphere cast an eerie light across the waves. The sphere grew turing from a dull light to a blazing inferno, all the bridge crew could do was turn away and shield their eyes as the light pierced the darkness of the storm. As instruments and radios began to short out, and a sharp noise filled Bauer's all he could think was 'The damn Reds, they finally did it.".

June 10, 1940, Mediterranean Sea, 08:45

Wing Commander Jane Thatch stood on the flight deck of the USS Lexington watching as an SBD Dauntless took to the sky. Moments before the deck crew had been at ease, playing cards or joking. But something had broken that calm, suddenly planes were being brought up from the hangar deck below and being loaded with ordinance. Something was amiss.

"Commander." Jane turned around to face a young petty officer behind her. "Admiral wants you on the bridge."

The pilot gave a silent nod and followed the petty officer into the Carriers island. In mid-1940 the world was in a fragile state, the return of the Neuroi and ideological division in Europe had brought the world to the brink of war. Whether that be against the Neuroi or themselves would be determined in the following days. This unrest had led to the creation of Task Force 58, a joint Liberion-Fuso naval force with the goal of deterring Karlsland aggression in the region. It wasn't long until she found herself on the bridge, Jane tucked her officer cap under her arm.

"You wanted to see me sir." Jane said standing at attention.

Admiral William Harrison put down a pair of binoculars and turned to face the wing commander. "I'll get to the point," Harrison started. "We've picked up an anomaly on radar, spiral vortex sixty nautical miles to the east."

"Neuroi sir?"

"Or a hurricane, but I won't exclude the possibility. We've also picked up multiple smaller contacts near it. The largest being around the same length as Lexington. If it truly is a new nest then now is the perfect time to strike."

Jane nodded. "I agree sir, however I believe it would be too risky to attack without prior reconnaissance."

"Captain Kawamoto sent up one of Kaga's recon birds thirty minutes ago, they should be returning with pictures here shortly."

As if on cue a petty officer entered the bridge and addressed the Admiral.

"Sir, Captain Kawamoto is waiting for you in the briefing room."

The admiral nodded and dismissed the NCO with a wave of his hand before turning back to Jane.

"Let's go find out who our mystery contacts are."

Jane followed the Admiral off the bridge and back through the winding halls of Lexington's island until she found herself below deck and in one of the Carriers briefing rooms. Inside the room stood Captain Shun Kawamoto, the short Fuso man was dressed in the white uniform of the Fuso Imperial navy. Next to him was Lieutenant Mei Shindou, one of four witches that currently operated within the joint fleet. Immediately upon entering the room Kawamoto threw several black and white pictures on the table.

"What have you Liberions been up too?" The Fuso officer inquired as he glared at Harrison. The Liberion admiral simply raised a brow in question as he collected the scattered pictures from the table, the contents of which only brought more questions.

"What in god's name."

"A carrier like none the world has ever seen, larger than that of your Lexington. If your nation had such a ship at their disposal why didn't they commit them to the fight earlier!" Kawamoto accused slamming his fist on the table.

Harrison handed the photos over to Jane before confronting the Fuso captain.

"You think the department of the navy would keep me in loop about such matters? They keep everything on a need to know basis, hell even the existence of this fleet is a close held secret. Something isn't right, the only shipyard capable of handling something like this is Newport. There's no way it could have been kept secret."

Seeing as how his Liberion counterpart was just as much in the dark as him, Kawamoto began to calm down.

"So what now."

Harrison scratched his chin. "Have you tried hailing them?"

Kawamoto shook his head. "Not yet Admiral."

"That would be a start, in the meantime set general quarters. It's as you said something doesn't feel right. Thatch assemble your air group, get a strike package put together and ready to launch."

Jane looked at the admiral in shock. "Sir, are you sure? They could be human.."

Harrison sighed. "Look kid, the neuroi aren't our only enemy. Nations like Karsland and Orussia have used neuroi as an excuse to invade and annex neighboring countries. Hell they sure as hell ain't ours, the only ones who are possibly capable of this is Karlsland."

XXXXX

Bauer groaned as he picked himself off the bridge floor, blood dripping into his left eye. Evidently when he collapsed he had hit his head against the instrument panel in front of him. Dazed and with his ears ringing, the commander of Midway look around the bridge as his crew came to. Those who were already conscious had manned their station and tried to assess the damage. As the Captain sat down and began to bark orders a medic tended to the gash on his forehead.

"Damage report!"

"None sir, blast did nothing to us!" bridge crewmember replied.

"Engines?" Bauer asked as the medic applied a gauze bandage to his wound.

"Still functional sir!"

Bauer snagged a hand mic off the console and keyed the comms. "TAO, Bridge. Any surface or air contacts?"

"One sir, bearing 285, 15,000 feet."

"Russians?"

"Unknown." The TAO replied.

"Keep me posted," Bauer keyed out and changed the channel. "Boss, Skipper. Launch the alert fighters, we have a bogey hanging on the edge of our radar."

"Aye skipper," The Air Boss replied. "It'll be a minute before we can fighters in the air, we're still trying to get the 32nd off the deck."

"Fuck it, I don't care get them up there! I want someone between us and whoever the hell attacked us."

"Aye sir."

Just as Bauer hung up the hand mic it began to ring again.

"Bridge, comms, we've picked up a transmission over high band. I believe they're trying to hail us."

Bauer sat up straight in his seat. "Any idea who it is."

The Captain could hear the hesitation in the communication's officers voice.

"Sir, it's from us."

Bauer turned on the loudspeaker so the bridge crew could hear. There was an audible click before the transmission came through.

"Unknown vessel, this is United States Naval Warship CV-2 USS Lexington. Halt your movement and state your intentions. Any resistance will be met with force. I repeat Unknown vessel, this is United States Naval Warship CV-2 USS Lexington. Halt your movement and state your intentions."

"Sir, we have Corsairs in the air."

Bauer nodded to the crew member before keying the comms. "Comm, Bridge. Have you replied?"

"Negative sir."

An uneasy silence took over the bridge as all eyes were on the Captain. None of this made sense, the USS Lexington had long since been sunk during the battle of the Coral Sea and the only other aircraft carrier in the area was Leyte. The first thing that came to mind was that it was a Soviet ruse, a trick designed to make Midway drop her guard.

"Patch me through."

"Aye sir." The communications replied. "You're transmitting sir."

"USS Lexington, this is Captain Nathan Bauer of the aircraft carrier Midway. We just came under attack by an unknown force. Your actions against seem to put you at fault. We will not change our course."

There were a few seconds of silence before the radio came to life again.

"Captain Bauer, this is Admiral William Harrison. I order you to halt your movement and prepare to be boarded. Any resistance will result in the use of force, be smart Captain I will sink you."

Bauer scowled. "This is a Midway class carrier, it was built to fight you better know how!" The Captain slammed the hand mic back into its mount. Before addressing one of the bridge crew. "Henderson sound general quarters, launch every aircraft we got. Find me that ship!"

Henderson nodded before walking over to the main circuit and flipping the general quarters alarm.

"This is not a drill, this is not a drill. General quarters, general quarters all hands man your battle stations. The route of travel is forward and up to starboard, down and aft to port. Set condition one throughout the ship. General quarters, general quarters."

XXXXX

In a black and blue flash a Corsairs burst over the lapping waves of the Mediterranean. The prop engine growled and it's glass canopy glimmered, four 20mm cannons mounted in the wings. Another Corsair fell in behind the leader, keeping a tight formation. The Corsairs pulled up from the sea's surface and into the clouds attempting to conceal their advance. They were deep within the enemy skies.

"Eyes open Reed, Ivan could be anywhere." Whalen said through his oxygen mask, he looked through his canopy at his wingman. The junior officer flashed a thumbs up and began scanning the horizon.

Through an opening in the clouds, Reed caught a glimpse of an aircraft.

"Bogey, three O'clock low!"

Whalen immediately looked to his three O'clock, cruising below the clouds a fixed wing, single engine aircraft droned on.

"Let's go say hello." Whalen replied as he pitched right and brought his aircraft into a dive. It only took seconds for him to drop a couple hundred feet and slide in behind the unknown aircraft. As he swung his Corsairs in behind the aircraft he got his first full look at what he was dealing with. "What the hell?"

Before the veteran pilot, painted in white with the red marking of Imperial Japan was an Aichi D3A dive bomber. Something he had not seen since his days at the naval academy. Whalen keyed his radio.

"Midway, Gypsy Four. Eyes on our radar contact. You're not gonna believe what I'm looking at."

There was a crackle of static before the carrier replied. "This is Midway, send it."

Whalen shook his head and scoffed. "Midway, I'm looking at a Jap dive bomber."

"A what!?"

"An Aichi D3A Dive bomber. What the hell is going on here?"

In fear the tail gunner of the dive bomber opened fire on Whalen's Corsairs, sending bursts of 7.7mm rounds towards the fighter.

Whalen rolled out of the way and cursed. He offset himself from the dive bomber as it began to take evasive maneuvers. "Midway be advised, the Val just opened fire."

A moment of static and silence passed. "Gypsy Four, Midway. You're free to engage the bomber."

"Roger, Reed on my wing. I'm gonna make a pass at this bastard."

"Yes sir."

Whalen increased throttle and once more positioned himself behind the bomber. The tail gunner opened fire as the Corsairs closed the gap. Whalen dipped and dodged out of the way of the incoming rounds. He could hear his airframe shutter as a few of the rounds were able to hit, still it was nothing major and the pilot continued his pursuit. He nestled in behind the bomber at a mere twenty meters, he slipped his index finger around the trigger and fired. At once the Corsair's four 20mm cannons kicked to life sending a shutter throughout the craft and filling the cockpit with the smell of cordite. The M3 cannons carried more than enough energy to shred the lightly armored dive bomber. However they would never get the chance to hit.

A blue circle with what amounted to ancient runes stopped the 20mm rounds short of their target. Whalen only had a split second to pitch his aircraft upwards and roll out of the way or collide with the shield. The pilot leveled his craft and shook his head, looking out of the cockpit he saw the Val gaining distance as it retreated from the air space. He was about to re engage when a small craft darted past him at high speed. Whalen only caught a glimpse but it seemed mechanical in nature, a radar report from the Midway confirmed his suspicions.

"Watch out Reed, seems like the Jap bastard has friends."

"Roger, tracking single bandit bearing 130. Multiple unknowns approaching from 285 degrees."

Whalen looked at the heading that Reed just reported, flying in a tight formation were four F4F Wildcats led by what looked like a young woman with medium length brown hair with some sort of mechanism strapped to her legs."Midway, Gypsy Four. Six new bandits have entered the battle space. Shit's getting awfully weird out here, permission to disengage for now."

"This is Midway, negative CAG is on the way with three more Corsairs. Continue to engage, help is on the way."

"Negative Midway, y'all don't understand. The bandit was able to block my rounds with some sort of shield."

"Gypsy Four, are you saying the Soviets have energy shield around their fighters?" The crewmember asked in disbelief.

"They're not Russians, for christ sake! I'm looking at four Wildcat fighters led by a young woman with mechanized legs!" Whalen yelled slamming his fist against the canopy.

There were a few seconds of awkward silence before Midway replied. "Roger, Gypsy Four wait one."

"Fuck it! Reed, chase the lone bandit. Do not fire, just play with them. I'm gonna scatter the escorts."

The young fighter pilot flashed a thumbs up and broke away from his flight lead. Reed, a nineteen-year-old kid from Washington, was the newest pilot to the unit only arriving a month before Midway's deployment to the mediterranean. His dusty blonde hair was covered by his flight helmet and his hazel eyes scanned the horizon for his target. Amongst the swirling clouds his target would have been hard to see if it hadn't been for a lucky opening in the clouds. Reed dove on his target and for the first time he caught a glimpse of what his flight leader had seen. Another young woman, with black hair tied back in a ponytail and carrying what looked like an M2 machine gun. He couldn't quite tell but he swore the women had the ears and tail of an animal.

The female pilot looked over her shoulder at him then dived into the clouds. Reed gave chase and followed the women into the dive, they broke out of the dive a few meters above the water and leveled out. The young fighter pilot was doing all he can to keep the women in his sights as she constantly changed direction in an attempt to shake Reed. Suddenly the women kicked her legs out in front of her and drastically dropped her speed allowing Reed's fighter to dart by. Reed pressed his face against the canopy in order to see behind him, he had turned around just in time to see the women get caught in the prop wash of his fighter and tumble into the sea. The fighter pilot cursed himself before keying the radio and circling the downed pilot.

"Four, this is six. Bandit just crashed into the water."

"Damn it Reed, I told you not to fire!" Came his flight leads angered response.

"I didn't shoot her down, she got caught in the prop wash and spun out of control!"

Reed could hear Whalen sigh over the radio. "Alright kid, Skipper's here and the rest of the bandit's ran off without a fight. Continue to circle the area, Midway is sending a rescue bird."

XXXXX

Jane touched down on the flight deck of the Lexington and slowed to a halt, flight crew swarmed around her and helped the wing commander lock her striker unit into its mount. She climbed out of her striker, an XF6F Hellcat, jumped down onto the wooden flight deck and looked up at the midday sun. It had been four hours since they first made contact with the unknown aircraft carrier and already things seemed grim. Somehow the ship had detected one of Kaga's observation aircraft and sent experimental fighters up to shoot it down. Upon hearing the news Jane had taken up part of her squadron along with her subordinate Cecilia Harris to rescue the craft. They had achieved their mission, the Fuso aircraft was safely back on Kaga but the price had been high. In the skirmish one of the fighters had given chase and shot down Cecilia. Jane put on her officers' cap and headed into Lexington's island and up to the bridge. During the skirmish she was able to see the tactical markings on the unknown fighters, finding out who they were nothing short of unsettling. On the bridge she found Admiral Harrison and Captain Kawamoto hunched over a sea chart planning their next move.

"Sir, may I speak?"

The two officers looked away from the chart and over at Jane.

"What is it Commander." Harrison replied.

Jane swallowed the lump in her throat as she retold the events that had unfolded moments ago, at the end of it she told the Admiral the single detail that had been on the forefront of her mind. "Admiral, those fighters. They were ours, navy fighters."

Harrison raised a brow. "What do you mean ours?"

"On the fuselage it said US Navy, the roundle was the same as ours as well. What purpose would they have to attack their own unless provoked? Admiral, it doesn't make any sense."

Harrison rubbed his chin in thought, it was as the air group commander had said something wasn't adding up. An advanced warship with high-speed fighters appearing out of nowhere. It was a scene right out of an H.G Wells novel.

"Commander, are you saying this is nothing more than a friendly fire incident?" Captain Kawamoto asked.

Jane nodded. "Sir, I don't believe these people are the enemy."

Harrison looked up at Jane. "We're calling off the search." The admiral walked over to the main circuit and contacted the radio room. "This is the Admiral, try and patch me through to the unknown ship."

XXXXX

Cecilia was dozing off, an hour ago after she had crashed into the Mediterranean, the men who she had been ordered the shootdown had pulled her from the water with an aircraft that she had only heard about in theories. When they arrived at their ship they had given her a towel, a change of clothes, a warm blanket and a cup of hot coffee. They held her in what seemed like a briefing room similar to the one she and her squadron shared aboard the Lexington. Cecilia had chosen to sit in one of the padded seats next to a heavy wood table. She was about to fall asleep when she heard the door click open. The witch jumped to her feet, heavy wool blanket still around her shoulders as an older man wearing a khaki Navy uniform walked in followed by a man in a flyers uniform, similar to those worn on the Lexington. As the pilot closed the door she caught sight of the marine guards posted outside the room. The man took a seat across the table from her.

He cleared his throat and began to speak. "I'll get straight to it, my name is Captain Nathan Bauer commander of the USS Midway. The man next to me is my CAG Lieutenant Commander Ross."

Cecilia locked eyes with the commander before replying. "Flight lieutenant Cecilia Harris, Navy Fighter Squadron Six."

"Now here's the skinny of it," Bauer said folding his hands on the table. "We get a call late last night that the Russians are mobilizing, nothing new they've done it before. Then we get hit with some sort of weapon, takes out all our electronics, and when we finally get everything back up and running we get a call from a ship we all believed was long since sunk threatening to sink us. See the situation I'm in?" Cecilia just looked at the commander not opting to say anything. "Look Lieutenant I'm just trying to figure out what the hell is going on here. Decade old fighters, resurrected warships, young girls flying around with machines strapped to their legs. Actually makes the thought of a war with the Soviets more comforting."

"Those fighters you sent after us, what are they? Were they built with Neuroi technology?"

Bauer blinked. "Come again?"

"Your fighters, there are only two things in this world that can obtain that sort of speed and maneuverability. Neuroi and Witches."

"Witches?" Ross asked with a puzzled expression.

"You say that like I'm supposed to know what that means." Bauer replied. "The hell is a Neuroi?"

Cecilia was taken aback. "How do you not know what a Neuroi is. After all the damage they've done, after we lost the first war."

Bauer looked at his CAG then back at the young women before him.

"Ma'am you need to start explaining everything to us right now." Bauer said in a calm tone.

Cecilia nodded and took a breath. She told them about the Neuroi, an aggressive alien race that was waging war on humanity. How they consumed huge swaths of land and destroyed everything in their path. Humanity had beaten them back thirty years ago during the First Neuroi war but at a high price. Since then humanity has been developing more effective means at fighting them, and each other. Thus entered the witch into a combat role, thanks to the creation of the Striker Unit and its magic enhancing abilities these young women had become a force multiplier in military nations around the world. She went onto explain how the Royal Family of Karlsland had whipped their people into a frenzy saying they were being treated unfairly. Seeing as how the Karlsland people suffered the greatest loss of life, money, and material during the war they began demanding compensation.

The rhetoric pushed by the royal family soon lead to the annexation of Dacia in 1938, along with the invasion of Belgica in 1939. In September of that same year as if spurred on by humanity's lust for war the Neuroi returned, this time over Ostmark. Due to the fear and discord that had been spread by Karlsland, and believing the Neuroi would be destroyed like they were in Hispania no one came to the aid Ostmark. That same month the nation would fall. Humanity still not trusting each other, was forced to fight a defensive war on multiple fronts. Mile by mile humanity began losing territory as nations began to fall.

Ross passed back and forth with his arms crossed as Cecilia finished recounting the events that lead up to now.

"What's wrong Ross?" Bauer asked tapping a finger against the table as he processed the information.

"Gee I don't know Skipper, the fact that I have to relive the Second World War, or the fact that Humanity is fighting a war of extinction, honestly can't tell you which one is worse, or hey maybe it's the fact I'm on a modern aircraft carrier back in nineteen fuckin forty!" Ross yelled as he picked up a chair and threw against the bulkhead.

Bauer continued to tap his finger against the table. "Calm down John, we ain't gonna achieve anything by throwing chairs against the wall."

"And what do you suggest we do? Run? Hide somewhere until humanity is wiped out. Or maybe we should play hero, try and save humanity." Ross replied and at slumped down in a chair.

Bauer glanced over at Cecilia then over at Ross, the captain stopped tapping his finger. "Would that be so bad?"

Ross leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "What?"

Bauer stood up and started pacing. "This morning we were ready to launch our planes in defense our allies, we swore an oath that we would defend them. I don't see how this changes the mission. Albeit it may not be the Reds we're bombing."

Ross began to chuckle. "You're insane, fuck it. Maybe in our little crusade we might just find us a way home." The CAG stood up and headed for the door. "I'll tell my boys to stand down."

Bauer nodded as Ross made it way out the door, leaving the Captain and the Witch alone in the briefing room. "Thank you Lieutenant Harris, you've managed to shine some light on our situation."

"I appreciate it Captain, but I have to ask. What did he mean by 'back in 1940'?" Cecilia asked.

Bauer lit a cigarette and took a deep drag before replying. "Well as you can see, we ain't Neuroi. Those fighters you saw, this ship the Midway and everything on it. It's the culmination of human engineering from the not so distant future. In fact if it truly is 1940 this ship will be launched five years from now." Bauer said taking another drag of his cigarette as he studied Cecilia's face for a reaction.

The young pilot gave the veteran captain a warm smile. "Strangely enough that's the first thing I've heard all day that makes sense."

"You're free to walk about the ship," Bauer said standing up from his seat. "With an escort that is."

June 10, 1940, Mediterranean Sea, 15:21

The USS Lexington sat in the Gulf of Trieste with her combined battle group of Liberion and Fuso vessels. The fleet, twenty-five vessels in total, consisted of two aircraft carriers the Kaga and the Lexington, the Battleships Washington, and Kirishima. Supporting the capital ships were the Heavy Cruisers Northampton, Salt Lake City, Takao, and countless light cruisers and destroyers made up the fleets anti-aircraft screen. Overhead, Fuso Zeros and Liberion Wildcats loitered overhead ready to intercept any unwelcome craft be it Neuroi or human.

A few hours earlier Admiral Harrison had gotten in contact with the enigmatic vessel and had called for a suspension of hostilities. When the reply came from the Midway he was surprised to see that his adversary had agreed to him terms to meet in person off the coast of Romagna. However old habits die hard and Harrison wasn't naive enough to totally drop his guard. As a preventive measure, the admiral had ordered his fighters to set up a cap over the fleet. He even went so far as to alert the Romagnan military and request that aircraft be dispatched to protect the fleet and Romagnan soil.

As fighters soared high above the carriers, Jane sat on the wing of Devastator torpedo bomber. The witch commander had a fondness of fixed winged aircraft having flown crop dusting aircraft back home in Arkansas before joining the Navy. The feeling of sitting behind a radial engine never left her.

"Commander, may I have a word?"

Jane looked away from the fighters and at the Fuso witch standing before her.

"You don't have to be so formal Mei," Jane said as she slid off the wing of the bomber. "We've been friends too long for you to keep calling me commander."

Mei smiled before she spoke. "Any word on Cecilia?"

Jane nodded. "She's aboard the USS Midway, I was able to speak to her when Admiral Harrison contacted them. According to her she is being treated well and says that the Midway is not our enemy."

Mei gave a sigh of relief. "Good, with the state of the war we're in no position to lose witches."

Once again Jane nodded, Mei was right the world was in no position to lose witches. As it stood a witch was the only ones who could effectively fight and destroy a neuroi making them the greatest force multiplier humanity had. Even a single witch could sway the tide of battle or at the very least save hundreds of lives. However humanity had not capitalized on this advantage soon enough and very few nations had combat ready witches and even fewer countries had the necessary Striker units. A loss of a witch was something humanity could not afford.

Mei's face took a more serious expression. "Those experimental fighters, what were they like?"

"You'll see soon enough." Jane replied pointing towards the mouth of the bay. It was just visible with the naked eye, the towering island and long flight deck of the Midway as it came over the horizon.

Mei stood their agape. The aircraft carrier was massive much larger than any in the world, including the Shokaku class carriers deployed by her home country. It was, by all means, a supercarrier. As the carrier approached the fleet a light was seen from the Midways island as a signalman relayed a message. It only took seconds for the Lexington to respond with a message of her own. The crew of the Lexington had gathered on the flight deck, from engine mechanics to cooks, to Marines came to see the arrival of the Midway. The massive carrier fell in two hundred meters away from Lexington, the Midway was a good 200 feet longer than the Lexington and was bristling with a plethora of anti-aircraft weapons ranging from twin mounted 20mm cannons to single mount five-inch cannons. On her deck were aircraft that the crew had never before seen. The only thing they could recognize were the navy markings on her aircraft and the naval designation 41 on her island.

Admiral Harrison had watched the ship approach from the observation deck of his ship. It was indeed as Jane had said, it was a Liberion ship. However that didn't answer everything. In mid-1940 Liberia only had seven aircraft carriers, the airgroup of the carrier was like nothing he had ever seen, and the Liberian flag waving above the Midway had 48 stars instead of just one. Harrison watched as a rotor wing aircraft took off from the deck of the Midway as he puffed on a cigar. A few minutes later a corded phone began to ring.

He picked it up and answered. "This is Harrison."

"They're here sir."

Harrison nodded. "I'll be right down."

XXXXX

Tensions were high but it was expected to say the least. The moment Captain Bauer and his Marine escort stepped off the HO4S helicopter they were met with rifles pointed at them. The Marine escort had instinctively raised their carbines in return and a shouting match ensued as both sides demand the other lower their weapons. Safeties had been flipped off and both sides were ready to gun each other down when Cecilia had stepped off the aircraft and began to talk Lexington's marines down. Somehow the young witch was able to resolve the situation as either side began to stand down. Cecilia quickly turned and apologized to Bauer, the Captain dismissed the issue saying he would have done the same himself. Bauer watched as a man in a khaki Navy uniform accompanied by a Japanese officer approached him. The two officers stopped short of him, the man in the khaki uniform extended a hand.

"Admiral William Harrison, First Allied Task Fleet."

Bauer shook the admiral's hand and returned the greeting. "Captain Nathan Bauer, United States Sixth Fleet."

Harrison released his grip and looked over at the Midway. "Impressive ship, I've never seen anything quite like it. What class did you say she was again?"

Bauer eyed the Admiral with suspension. "Midway class, she the lead ship."

"Lead ship you say, how many more are there?"

Bauer blinked, Harrison was trying to draw information out of him in the form of a conversation. "Including her, three."

"Her airgroup?"

"Enough to sink a fleet." Bauer replied as he stared down the admiral.

Harrison pivoted on his heels and faced the captain. "I'm not your enemy Captain Bauer. I'm not sure what mission the allied command tasked you with but the mission of this fleet is to keep the peace, and that's what I intend to do Captain."

"With due respect Admiral I'm here to explain my situation and find a resolution."

"And what would that be Captain?" Captain Kawamoto.

Bauer glanced over at the Fuso man before revealing the events that had led that had put both sides on a collision course. At the end of it all, both Harrison and Kawamoto stared at Bauer in disbelief.

"Impossible, you expect us to believe that nonsense!" Kawamoto replied.

Bauer glared at Kawamoto. "The Hawaii Operation, 28 November 1941, six carriers will depart from the Chishima Islands north of Japan, the carriers are the Akagi, Kaga, Shokaku, Zuikaku, Hiryu, Soryu. On Seventh December 1941 the carriers will launch 353 planes to attack Pearl Harbour in an attempt to cripple the Pacific fleet."

"The operation was canceled after the fall of Ostmark," Kawamoto replied gritting his teeth. "How the hell do you know all this?"

"Because I lived through it, Mr. Kawamoto. But for some reason God sent me and crew back here, a chance to make a difference."

Admiral Harrison tapped his foot against the flight deck, he looked over at Bauer. "It sounds ridiculous, but for god's sake it's the only thing making sense right now." Harrison was about to continue when one of his men ran over to him and said something Bauer couldn't quite hear. The admiral nodded and turned back to Bauer. "If you truly want to make a difference then now's your chance. The Neuroi have broken through the Munich defense line, Karlsland is calling for aid and we're the only ones in any position to help." Harrison didn't wait for a reply, he turned to Jane and began barking orders. "Commander get your air group in the air, the quicker we react the more lives we can save."

As I said a bit of an experiment. I know the whole "Our world military group in Strike Witches universe" (Especially a Naval task force) had been overdone but hell I like a challenge and I wanted to see what I could do. Bear in mind I'm as far a Naval man as one can get, I'm an armor crewman for Pete's sake. And any experience I've had flying was with the Civil Air Patrol what seemed like a millennia ago. So if y'all see something out of the ordinary or just isn't right feel free to PM me or leave it in the reviews.

Anyways expect more chapters in the (hopefully) near future.