It's been a day since the Enterprise Carrier Strike Group commenced their voyage to the unknown world, carrying the hopes of contacting home, and the possibility of return. But those hopes were uncertain, as unpredictable as the waves.
Under the blazing scorching heat of the Pacific climate, the Enterprise Strike Group sailed. The lone American Carrier Strike Group, comprising a Ford-Class Supercarrier, Amphibious Assault Ship, and various Escort Ships, stood ready to protect the fleet from any dangers above and below.
The Carrier Strike Group and all its escorts are heading northeast, where the coded message was intercepted earlier. Above the sailing armada is a squadron of formidable F/A-25 Hellcats flying along with Wingman Drones.
LHA-12 USS Essex
Onboard the deck of the USS Essex, the amphibious assault ship, two F-35Bs launched at the deck to provide Anti-Air Warfare and Anti-Submarine warfare to the strike group.
The F-35B, in its latest configuration and previous upgrades, had become the most numerous units, just like its equivalent, the AV8 Harriers, in the 80s. Its latest configuration uses its powerful radar and electronic suites to detect any potential dangers lurking underneath, beyond what the naked eye can see.
Essex, looking at the edge of her bridge, leaned forward at the railing as she watched each F-35B launch and recover.
"We're sailing to the unknown," that thought weighed heavily on her mind. "Let's hope we find our answers there."
After a moment of contemplation, Essex transmitted her report to the flagship through the comms.
"Essex to the Flagship Enterprise. Report from one of my F35Bs patrolling the area: there are no hostiles around 100 miles to our south. Patrols continuing, over."
"Enterprise to Essex, report received, over."
After the reply she received, she walked outside the bridge and leaned forward, head hanging low.
"I hope nothing strange happens?" She said to herself, as she looked at the fleet sailing in formation towards a location with uncertainty.
Dry Cargo Ship, USNS William McLean
At the left wing of the bridge of the cargo ship, William sat there smoking his cigar, feeling the situation of being human, the whole shebang. He glanced at the vast ocean as he puffed some smoke from his mouth.
"I bet DARPA is behind all of this," he muttered to himself. "Or just alien bullcrap; the success of teleportation was too successful, it makes me doubt them."
His attention shifted up above the sky as he watched the clouds part and pass by, the serene and pristine Pacific
Ocean evoking just another day in the Pacific—just another day, but in a different situation.
Constellation-Class Frigate
Inside the Frigate's bridge, Lafayette sat at the CO's (Commanding Officer's) seat, holding tight his baguette plushy.
He's literally the kid of the group, a young, Sheldon FrenchEdition. He's the youngest, even though he's older than the other new ships in service with the US Navy.
Alongside his ship is a British Type-26 Frigate conducting an underwater sweep for potential threats lurking around. Occasional sounds of marine mammals and fish were audible; the system separated the sound from any propeller cavitation and anything abnormal.
Type-26 Frigate
At the wardroom, Belfast is seen brewing some tea at one of the tables of the Officer Mess hall. Her brewing the tea is the most stereotypical of British people, but in a situation like this, more hot water is needed to calm the nervous situation and the uncertain event that might await them.
At the Nuclear Cruiser's bridge, Bunker Hill is at the position of a helmsman, she's in control of her ship manually unlike any other ships using their onboard A.I. to steer their ships clear. The lack of crew manning the ship causes some problems, now they were in human bodies, and humans had limitations. The onboard A.I. helps them navigate and plan a set course for their navigations.
USS Jack H. Lucas
At the armory, Lucas is sifting through the weapons log in his ship's armory storage, scrolling down at the various weapons at the log. Bored with sitting all day at the bridge and watching the swaying and beeping sound of control panels, he opted to find himself some form of entertainment. And that entertainment is sifting through weapons logs.
Maya, the lone Japanese among the allies surrounding her, is at the helipad of her ship practicing her sword skills.
She swings her katana up and down, left and right, just like in any typical katana practices. Her rigorous training is to master her body in close quarters combat; sure, she can defend herself, but there's nothing wrong with honing her skills for possibilities.
At the Ford-Class Aircraft Carrier leading the strike group, Enterprise is in the officer's cabin, writing reports in the ship's logbook. She's recording all the things that are going on, just like how you read in journals. The report or story and the summary of their journey is unbelievable, to say the least. From ships to being a human in another world, that's quite an anime plot, as Denver said.
At the Brand-New Destroyer, the situation is reversed; while others are nonchalant, Laffey is built differently as she looks through the vast ocean horizon, a bottle of booze in her hand.
Like a seasoned sailor with all the boredom and booze in the world, the eerie silence is deafening, as chaos ensued inside her head. Her intrusive thoughts needed to be kept inside, as unleashing them would have great consequences.
Underneath the sailing Carrier Strike Group, two longitudinal spherical objects swam along. Arizona and Denver are at their respective Submarines, listening and protecting the strike group from threats that might lurk and prowl under the blue sea.
The strike group sails the waves like a normal deployment of any US Navy Carrier Strike Group, but they were in another world, and they have a human body to begin with. But they all sailed smoothly towards their destination northeast, hoping to make contact and find answers to their predicament.
Lucas is walking around the deck of his ship with his newly acquired M27 IAR. As he walks down the stairs, he notices that there is something moving and making squeaky noises at the aft of his ship.
He goes there to investigate and sees an unusual creature with feathers and a rounded shape. He slowly points the muzzle of his M27 IAR at the creature, which looks like a Fat Yellow Chicken.
The Fat Yellow Chicken sees him pointing his rifle; beads of sweat drop from it as it stares at the barrel. With comedic elements, the chicken starts running away in fear.
Lucas pulls the trigger of his M27 IAR, but the Fat Yellow Chicken is faster, even though it's fat. Lucas radioed the other naval vessels about the peculiar situation going on at the deck of his ship.
"This is Lucas; I am currently boarded by an unknown creature that looks like a... Fat Yellow Chicken," he said, the last part confusingly.
Everyone is confused by what Lucas is trying to say; then, they hear more gunshots coming from the Destroyer. It's not a burst shot, but the sound of automatic fire.
"Hai."
After hearing Lucas's call, Maya is about to run across the deck and head to the bridge of her ship. She then comes across a Fat Yellow Chicken, the same chicken Lucas is trying to shoot. "How did you get in here?" The chicken just blinks in response to her question.
She quickly dashes towards the Fat Yellow Chicken and tries to slash it in half with her Katana. But the chicken is too quick and fast to avoid her attack.
The chicken runs; she then gives chase to the fleeing Fat Yellow Chicken across the deck of her ship.
Lafayette can see the whole scene aboard his ship's right wing; Lucas starts a firefight as he tries to shoot the Fat Yellow Chicken. The Fat Yellow Chicken runs and jumps across the deck of the Destroyer, avoiding any bullets, while Lucas is shooting with precise aim.
"Could you please stop shooting that poor chicken?!" Lafayette calls Lucas on the comms.
Lucas retorted back. "Tell that Fat Yellow Chicken to stop running, so that I can kill it!"
Lafayette's eyebrows twitch as he watches from the bridge of his ship. He shakes his head in dismay at Lucas's actions; at the edge of his eyes, he notices a Fat Yellow Chicken aboard his ship, the same chicken Lucas was shooting at.
This chicken is scrubbing the forward deck of his ship. He then yells on the comms. "T-There's a 'chicken' in my ship!"
He then grabs the nearest mop and starts charging towards that Fat Yellow Chicken onboard his ship. The chicken runs and drops the brush as it sees him running towards it, intending to beat it with a mop.
"Intruder onboard!" Lafayette radioed through the strike group's comms.
William, in the bridge of his ship, listens to the commotion on the comms. "Chickens? There's no DAMN chicken in the middle of the—"
He pauses as he sees a Fat Yellow Chicken with a hard hat and a safety vest entering and exiting the cargo bay of the ship.
"The hell?" He inquire, cigarette still in his mouth.
He drops the radio and heads to the captain's quarters, opening the captain's locker. At the locker, a single M9 Beretta is stowed in safekeep.
He grabs the M9 Beretta that had been placed in the safe by the previous captain of the ship. Like any old man whose private property was being invaded, he heads to the cargo bay of the ship, handgun in hand.
"Looks like we're having curry... tonight," he uttered to himself, as he walked all the way to the cargo bay, armed and ready.
Essex looks at the security camera screen on her ship. "What the Fuck!" She exclaimed in surprise, as she saw a bunch of Fat Yellow Chicken s lingering in her hangar deck.
She grabs her M27 IAR and hurriedly heads to the hangar deck of her ship with the intention of shooting all the chickens at the hangar deck.
"This is Essex, my ship is currently being boarded, I repeat, my ship is currently being boarded," Essex radioed as she headed down the hangar deck level.
Inside the Virginia-Class Submarine, Arizona chases the Fat Yellow Chicken that had spawned inside his sub. Without any second thoughts, he chases it with a wrench in hand.
"This is a Submarine, you farm animal!" He yells, as he chases the Fat Yellow Chicken.
His bulky stature looks silly as he chases the Fat Yellow
Chicken with a wrench. To comical, to say the least, as he chases. The tight spaces of the Submarine limited his movement, and he's careful not to hit any sensitive equipment inside the Submarine with the wrench he held.
At the Gato-Class Submarine, Denver whacks that Fat Yellow Chicken with a mop she randomly grabbed at the corner. She whacked it relentlessly as the Fat Yellow Chicken shielded itself with a tray.
"I don't know what farm did you come from, and this is not a place for you to just roam around!" She said as she whacked the mop; she then halted and thought for a bit.
She points a finger to her lips. "We're underwater, so... kicking you out is not possible without harming you. But..." Her lip curved into a mischievous smile.
"Say, the torpedo launch tubes are available...."
That Fat Yellow Chicken is now in deep trouble; beads of sweat trickle down its chicken head as it's about to be shoved into one.
At the Brand-New Aegis Destroyer, Laffey is seated at her CO's chair, motionless, as she stared down at the two Fat Yellow
Chicken s inside her ship's bridge. The two Fat Yellow Chickens just stood there, quivering uncontrollably on their chicken feet; beads of sweat dropped and were followed by a waterfall.
The two Chickens are looking directly at her red ruby eyes; the two quivered just feeling her murderous aura leaked out. She's just sat there in the chair and stared at them... Menacingly.
Lucas relentlessly fires his M27 IAR; with all the firepower he threw, none of it hit the target. He then saw the chicken that he'd been shooting at and ran towards the other two chickens.
"Crap! There were three of them now!"
Out of options and out of decisions, he pulls out a frag grenade, pulls the pin, and throws it at the group of Chickens gathering around.
"Fire in the hole!" He shouted as he tossed the Frag Grenade.
The Chickens saw the frag grenade being thrown at them and immediately ran in different directions before the frag grenade exploded.
"How the fuck did these 'chickens' manage to avoid a frag grenade?!" He exclaimed in surprise.
Enterprise ran frantically to her ship's bridge and grabbed one of the comms to stop Lucas from poking holes in his ship.
"Stop! Blowing up your own ship, Dumbass!" She shouted through the comms to stop him from damaging his own ship; she paused and took a deep breath, then changed the channel and contacted Bunker Hill.
"Bunker Hill, do you have any information about these... Chickens?" She take a quick paused, as she was confused at the situation.
Bunker Hill, like any other officer, frantically scrolled at the computer screen, looking at the ship's database. She then came across a data file that had recently been installed among the US Navy Database Files.
"According to my discovery among the US Navy Database that I've just recently found, these chickens are called Manjuus. These Manjuus act as the Ship's Crew, Damage Control Team, and any other Sailor's job on deck. In other words, they belong to our ship as crews."
"So that's explain why there's a lot of chickens wearing flight deck jerseys on my flight deck and hangar deck?" "Probably," Bunker Hill responded.
Enterprise sighed in relief, that she didn't have to shoot all the chickens onboard her ship with her M4A1.
"Okay... What about these 'cats'?"
Enterprise turned around to see a bunch of cats that looked like stuffed animals wearing Navy Officer Uniforms, fiddling with the ship's navigation equipment.
"Oh, about those 'cats'..." Bunker Hill then scrolled down deeper at the data files, about the 'cats'. "They are commanding officers for the Manjuus; they are also called Meowfficers. According to the file."
"Meowfficers?" Enterprise asked, a bit confused.
"Yes, Ma'am. They are called Meowfficers."
"Okay... Share this data with the other ships. I don't want them to kill their own 'crews' for no reason as being Fat Yellow Chickens," Enterprise said.
"Yes, Ma'am."
Bunker Hill's gaze swept across the bridge of her ship; one Manjuu with a captain's cap and Meowfficer standing in the corner, bullet sweating, hand/paws raised.
"You two are lucky I didn't pull the trigger right away," she said with a cold tone, as the Manjuus and Meowfficers quivered in fear.
Onboard the USS Jack H. Lucas, the three Manjuus are currently being cornered at the bow of the ship. In front of them is Lucas, breathing heavily while pointing his rifle at them, and talking.
"You damn chickens! You made me run through the entirety of my ship just to kill you three."
He then looks at them in the eyes. "Do you have any last words, before I turn you three into curry?" He said it with a devilish smile on his face. The Manjuus started crying.
Before he could pull the trigger, Lucas received a direct data link coming from USS Bunker Hill. He stopped what he was doing and scratched the back of his head in this awkward situation. He was about to kill his crew for a second there; he just facepalmed and said, "Sorry" awkwardly.
Onboard the USS Essex LHA, Essex was about to shoot all the Manjuus with her M27 IAR at the hangar deck; then, one of the Manjuus saw her and started raising both of their hand/wings in fear.
Both the Manjuus and Meowfficers were quivering in fear. Essex received a data link from USS Bunker Hill; she then lowered her rifle and slowly sighed in relief.
"According to the data that I received, you're not a hostile threat? Is that right?"
The Manjuus and Meowfficers nodded their heads.
Onboard the USNS William McLean, William was about to shoot one of the Manjuus wearing a safety vest and hard hat inside the cargo compartment of his ship with his M9 Beretta, but immediately stopped as she received a data link from USS Bunker Hill.
"So, these chickens are called Manjuus, huh. Interesting," He said to himself.
He sighed and lowered his M9 and walked towards the group of Manjuus that was gathering inside the cargo compartment. He glanced around and found himself being surrounded by Manjuus; it then came into his mind the situation he was in.
"Damn... You all look like Minions from that movie Despicable Me," He said.
Maya was doing a Dogiza (Japanese Traditional Bowing Apology) in front of the Manjuu that she was about to slice in half minutes ago; the Manjuu was confused about what to do.
"Gomen'nasai! Gomen'nasai! Gomen'nasai!!!" Maya said, as she apologized for her actions.
Inside the wardroom of HMS Belfast, Belfast was seated at one of the tables, drinking tea. She was accompanied by Manjuu and Meowfficer; the two were also drinking tea.
At Arizona's Submarine, Arizona had enough of the good ol' 'Chicken Chase' inside his Submarine. He drew his pistol, eyes on the sights and finger on the trigger. As he was seconds from pulling the trigger, he received a data link from USS Bunker Hill.
"Huh? What? So, that chicken is my crew, huh?" He uttered to himself, as he was confused.
The Manjuu that he was chasing got closer to him slowly, as the chasing stopped. Arizona used this opportunity to bonk it with a wrench in revenge for making him chase all the way to the corners of his Submarine.
"This is for making me chase after you at the entirety of my boat, Damn Chicken," he said with a satisfied look.
At Denver's Submarine, Denver was shoving this poor chicken at one of the torpedo launch tubes of her Submarine. Until she received a data link from USS Bunker Hill.
"Oops... My bad," She paused after receiving the message. But with a bit of playful curiosity, she wanted to continue.
"But I really wanted to know how it feels like to fire a chicken from a torpedo launch tube, so... shall we continue?" The Manjuu shook its head frantically in disagreement.
"I'm just kidding." She placed it down and let it free. That Manjuu was inches from being the very first Manjuu Torpedo.
Onboard the bridge of USS Laffey, Laffey was just staring at the Manjuus and Meowfficers fiddling at one of the ship's control panels, while she sat at her CO's seat. Without sensing any dangers or threats, she chugged the bottle of booze that she'd been holding in her right hand.
Enterprise slumped back in her CO's seat aboard her ship while gazing through the horizon. Behind her, the Meowfficers were fiddling with the navigation console. She then sighed in relief that she didn't have to be a single mechanic to all her 90+ aircraft that she carried onboard; the existence of the Manjuus was a big help for the maintenance of the ship and its aircraft. One person alone could not do all that in a big aircraft carrier and its entire air wing.
She also didn't have to worry about good old-fashioned naval navigation; the Meowfficers were the ones setting the course of the ship and its escorts.
'How did these 1 ½ foot size Manjuus have the same performance as an adult human doing all the work of loading heavy ordnance, and they were Certified Forklift Operators?' Enterprise thought, as she glanced at the flight deck.
The flight deck was full of life, as the Manjuus wearing Flight Deck Jerseys in different colors of the rainbow, running around across the flight deck and preparing for another aircraft launch.
On the monitor of the AEGIS Combat System, 20 blips suddenly appeared out of nowhere on the monitor screen. Bunker Hill noticed the distance was 100 miles northwest of the strike group. She then contacted the flagship at the comms about her discovery.
Enterprise's thoughts were interrupted by an incoming call from Bunker Hill. She grabbed the nearest comms. "Bunker Hill to Enterprise, unknown Naval Vessels have appeared 100 miles Northwest of our current direction."
Enterprise responded, "Enterprise to Bunker Hill. That location was clear of any Naval Vessels moments ago, according to the report from one of my patrol planes that flew over that location."
"Ma'am, the unknown Naval Vessels appeared seconds ago at the same location your patrol aircraft passed by."
Enterprise's eyes swept across the radar monitor screen, worried about Bunker Hill's report. The radar screen showed 20 blips.
'How did these 20 unknown Naval Vessels appear out of nowhere? And why didn't my patrolling plane see them—or maybe they just teleported next to our location?'
She thought of any kind of worst-case scenario that could happen and was cut off by an incoming call from Laffey. She then opened the comms.
"20 unknown Naval Vessels sailing at 40 knots towards our location, permission to open fire?"
Laffey was eyeing the 20 blips on her monitor screen with her red eyes and a murderous gaze.
"Do not open fire, Laffey. We only open fire once we confirm the hostile intentions of these Unknown Naval Vessels." Enterprise was not shocked that Laffey wanted to launch a bunch of missiles at an Unknown Naval Vessel, knowing her murderous personality. The worst part would be if those Unknown Naval Vessels were Civilian Vessels.
Enterprise, in order to confirm the identity of the Unknown Naval
Vessels as either a hostile threat or a civilian vessel, launched 4 F/A-25 Hellcats along with their Drone Wingman to the location of the unknown Naval Vessels.
"Lucas and Lafayette, I want you to intercept these 20 Unknown Naval Vessels 100 miles Northwest of our current location."
She dispatched the two for interception; they could not let any of the Unknown Naval Vessels get closer to the Fleet if they carried a hostile intent.
Lucas and Lafayette responded to the comms. "Roger that/Aye aye."
An Arleigh Burke Class Destroyer and a Constellation Class Frigate broke off from the formation of the Strike Group and headed Northwest. The two Ships were at a cruising speed of around 20 knots to the designated location of interception of the 20 Unknown Naval Vessels.
Essex, in support of ASW, launched 4 of her F-35Bs to sweep for any lurking Submarines, now that their location was revealed to the unknown of this world.
"Please tell me that we're not trying to shoot another Chicken this time?" She said to herself as she looked at her Flight Deck, where an AH-64 Apache was being armed with AGM-114 HellfireMissiles by Flight Crew Manjuus.
(The AH-64 Apache was adapted by the Marine Corps. in 2035. The numerous airframe and down cost of operation, along with the failure of 'Future Helicopter Acquisition' of the Marine Corps., led some of the Big-Green Winnies at the Marine Corp. to adapt the
AH-64 Apache, replacing the AH-1Z Viper, the Marine
Corp's primary attack helicopter.)
Northwest 100 miles away from the Carrier Strike Group
An unknown 20 Naval Vessel formation that looked like an LCS (Littoral Combat Ship of the US Navy, envisioned for littoral operations)
2 Twin-hull design Aircraft Carriers.
10 Catamaran designs similar to the Independence Class (LCS) but armed with two cannons from bow to stern.
5 angular shapes the size of a Cruiser armed with twin-mounted turrets from bow to stern.
3 Catamaran designs with three-gun turrets mounted on the bow, starboard, and port sides.
The 20 ships had the same paint scheme: Red and Jet-Black.
An albino woman with a Stingray-Shaped object as her backpack, armed with Six Cannons, three on each side, while emitting yellow light, spoke.
"What you were planning Code-G is not going to work,"
She grinned, as she gazed at the surface of the ocean with her eyes glowing yellow. She was standing on the bridge of said carrier, which was speeding at 40 knots to their objective.