The deck of the VNS Stormhawk roared with activity as the crew readied for another strike. Ground crews scurried under the dull red lights of the flight deck, hauling bombs and torpedoes onto the planes. Mechanics swarmed the aircraft, checking engines and patching bullet holes sustained in the previous sortie. The salty air was thick with tension, mingled with the faint hum of the carrier's engines.
Commander Donovan stood at the edge of the deck, binoculars in hand, watching the last remnants of twilight fade into the horizon. The Ruthenian fleet had taken a punishing blow earlier, but their core forces still held position. If they managed to regroup, they could turn the tide.
"Admiral Hall's orders are clear," Donovan barked to the deck crews. "We go again. This ends tonight."
