New Zealand – January to June 2040

  Many within the government had feared that the rapid expansion of Chinese influence in Southeast Asia, particularly the graphic images surrounding the fall of the Philippines would shatter the public’s resolve, crushing morale and dampening enlistment numbers. They could not have been more wrong. Instead, the news ignited a firestorm of determination, galvanizing the nation. Recruitment figures skyrocketed overnight by an unprecedented 200 percent, flooding enlistment offices across the country. And it wasn’t just the army that saw an influx—the Navy and Air Force found themselves inundated with eager volunteers. The Navy, bolstered by its modern fleet and enticing career prospects, became a major draw, while the Air Force—despite the rigorous training demands for pilots—saw a surge of applications beyond what training facilities could handle. Officer candidate schools and war colleges struggled to keep pace, while the army's training grounds, particularly Waiouru Military Camp, found themselves overflowing with fresh recruits, determined to take the fight to the enemy.

  For the Royal New Zealand Navy, the surge in manpower led to two extraordinary changes. First, after years of expansion, gruelling deployments, and relentless combat, New Zealand finally had enough personnel to rotate crews. For the first time, exhausted sailors—many of whom had been at sea for months—could rest without weakening operational readiness. This newfound flexibility meant ships could be maintained at peak efficiency without overextending their sailors—something that had long been a pressing concern.

  Second, and perhaps most momentous, the government unveiled a long-held secret—behind closed doors, New Zealand had been negotiating with the British, securing a historic deal. With war looming, the British had initially ordered a third Melbourne-class carrier, a sister ship to HMS Ark Royal and HMS Invincible, but economic constraints had stalled its completion. Now, that almost-finished carrier would find a new home under the Silver Fern.

  The deal itself was a masterclass in quiet diplomacy, orchestrated by Prime Minister Miriama Kahu, the Defence Minister Kevin MacNielty and Foreign Minister Derek Harper in close coordination with their British counterparts. Negotiations had begun months earlier, following the Battle of the East China Sea, when it became clear that New Zealand’s growing ambitions in the Pacific would require a second carrier to maintain continuous operations. The British, facing their own financial strain and stretched commitments to CANZUK and NATO, saw the opportunity to deepen military ties with Wellington while offloading a costly, unfinished asset. The final agreement was sealed in a late-night video conference between Kahu and Prime Minister Richard Winslow, underwritten by a series of reciprocal trade and defence deals that would bind the two nations closer than ever.

  Thus proving Sinclair’s lie to the Chinese government via their unwitting patsy Nathan Liu only half false. The new Zealanders weren’t building another carrier at all, it was already built.

  She would be named HMNZS Ranginui, a tribute to the Sky Father, a divine counterpart to HMNZS Tangaroa, the God of the Sea. Already en route to New Zealand, the carrier would complete its final fitting-out within the yards of ‘Oceania at Northport’, Whangārei, where she would be armed, modified, and made battle-ready within weeks.

  However, with the arrival of Ranginui, an urgent challenge emerged—how to crew a second carrier? The solution was as bold as it was necessary: Tangaroa’s crew would be split, with half assigned to Ranginui and the remainder reinforced by fresh recruits, undergoing intensive crash-course training.

  The Americans, recognizing the strategic importance of a fully operational second New Zealand carrier, stepped in with an extraordinary offer—loaning an entire carrier air wing, the surviving elements of the lost USS Abraham Lincoln, ensuring that Ranginui would be combat-ready from day one.

  The RNZAF found itself facing a similar boom, though the challenges were markedly different. Pilots, the lifeblood of any air force, required extensive training—a process that simply could not be rushed. The flight school in Ohakea was pushed to their absolute limits, instructors working around the clock to prepare the next generation of fighter pilots. Training was streamlined into three intensive phases. First was the Initial Flight training at Ohakea, where candidates were put through accelerated ground school and flight hours in Texan II turboprop trainers. They were then split off, those that had the aptitude went on to phase two, Basic Flight Manoeuvres and Advanced Fighter Training in their T-50 Golden Eagle training variants, where pilots learned air combat manoeuvres, weapons deployment, and tactical formations. Those that were good pilots but lacked that Fighter pilot ‘X’ factor were moved on to the King Airs, then funnelled towards the Intelligence, Surveillance and Reconnaissance, or Transport squadrons.

  In the meantime, to bridge the initial gap, veteran pilots were recalled from retirement, foreign allies provided temporary personnel, and training was intensified to accelerate graduation timelines without compromising quality. The next step was getting them something to fly and the government entered into negotiations with multiple countries and suppliers. Consequently The F-15EX airframe was the one chosen. Say what you like about the ‘Stealth’ craze, nothing beat the F-15 airframe for survivability, durability, range and punch. It was these considerations which led the NZ government to purchase them in the first place, and it was for those same reasons they stuck with them moving forward.

  To support this massive expansion, Boeing plants in Hamilton and Dunedin ramped up production, doubling their output within a month. The government’s new industrial strategy ensured that local production could sustain long-term fighter operations without relying on overseas supply chains.

  It wasn’t just prospective pilots signing up though, air crew and ground crew numbers also swelled, navigators, observers, loadmasters, engineers and aircraft technicians, logistics. Recruits were now interested in every facet of the Air Force.

  The Army was a force reforged in the fires of history. For the New Zealand Army, the influx of recruits triggered a dramatic transformation.

  The most symbolic of these changes was the reformation of the legendary Māori Battalion, a unit renowned for its heroism in both World Wars, although this time with so many volunteers, it was decided to make them a Regiment sized unit under the command of Colonel Matua Ngarangi. They would be known as the 8th Royal New Zealand “Māori” Light Infantry Regiment. This modern iteration specialized in jungle warfare, drawing on the fierce warrior traditions of its ancestors while integrating cutting-edge tactics suited to the brutal conditions of the Pacific front. They would become masters of stealth, ambush, and endurance, forging a reputation that would soon terrify their enemies.

  Yet the most strategically significant development came with the resurgence of heavy armour. With New Zealand’s industrial base rapidly churning out armored vehicles, for the first time in decades, the country would field a full armored division—a force not seen since the mid-20th century.

  The backbone of this formidable new force was the K2-NZ "Black Panther" Main Battle Tanks – A license-built variant of the South Korean K2, built in the Robinson Engineering Plant in Stratford, Taranaki. Optimized for Pacific warfare, featuring enhanced hydropneumatic suspension for jungle terrain, advanced composite armour, and state-of-the-art targeting systems. They were supplemented by K21-NZ Infantry Fighting Vehicles built at the James Line Heavy Engineering Plant in Palmerston North – Fast, heavily armed, and designed for amphibious operations, these vehicles would spearhead assaults, ensuring mobility and firepower in even the harshest environments.

  As these formidable war machines rolled off the assembly lines, New Zealand’s armed forces were no longer a defensive force—they were an army on the march, ready to turn the tide of war.

  The world had underestimated the Kiwis. They would not do so again.

  Even beyond the armed forces, New Zealand society itself transformed into a nation at war. Factories expanded to produce everything from ammunition to UAVs, while shipyards in Nelson and Whangārei worked around the clock to churn out vessels for both the navy and merchant convoys. Civilian industries were rapidly converted to war production under the newly created Ministry of Defence Production, headed by Craig Du Plessis.

  Men and women flooded into the workforce in numbers not seen since the Second World War. In cities and rural communities alike, the Home Guard Initiative trained thousands of volunteers—young and old—to defend critical infrastructure, patrol coastal areas, and safeguard key supply lines. The entire nation became a fortress-in-waiting. No corner of the country was untouched by the war effort. New Zealand had become a nation transformed—smaller than its allies but burning with a ferocity that would shake the world to its core.

  ***

  HMNZS Tangaroa – ‘Oceania at North Port’, Whangarei, March 30th, 10:20 Local Time

  The pier was alive with a restless energy, the salty tang of the harbour breeze carrying with it the calls of gulls, the soft murmur of voices and the distant clatter of cranes loading the last of the supply containers onto the replenishment ship HMNZS Aotearoa. After eight long weeks of gruelling wartime maintenance, HMNZS Tangaroa stood ready to return to the fight, her steel hull gleaming under the weak morning sun.

  The carrier's flight deck was conspicuously empty, her aircraft yet to join her — they would fly out to meet the ship once she cleared the outer marker — but the decks were lined with sailors in immaculate dress whites, standing shoulder to shoulder in the timeless naval tradition of "manning the rails." Their crisp uniforms snapped in the breeze, a silent salute to the watching crowd gathered along the wharf.

  Among the spectators were families—mums and dads, brothers and sisters, little ones perched on shoulders. Teenagers milled about, trying desperately to mask their emotions as they said goodbye to loved ones. There was dignitaries, and dockworkers — a sea of faces, both proud and anxious. They cheered and waved flags, though the shadow of the months ahead hung heavy in the salt-laden air. The anti-nuclear protesters from the past several weeks had slowly dissipated, the news coming out of the Philippines making their cries fall mostly on deaf ears. Yes, New Zealand was still staunchly anti -nuclear but being anti-anything was a luxury that was only afforded in peacetime.

  At the foot of the gangway, Vice Admiral Malachi Mason clasped hands with his one of his oldest friends, the newly promoted Rear Admiral Scott Hutchinson, offering a rare smile in the midst of so much tension.

  “Fair winds, Admiral,” Hutchinson said, his voice gruff with emotion as he pulled Mason into a firm embrace. “I wish I was going with you!”

  “You too, Admiral.” Malachi returned the hug, giving the man a friendly pat on the back. “And so do I. But there is no one I would trust more with the task you have ahead of you!”

  Scott leaned back, shaking his head. “Jesus, ‘Admiral’ still sounds so weird, Mal.”

  Mason's eyes glinted with a hint of mirth and pride. “You’ll get used to it buddy. Besides, you deserve it. With your experience, I had no problem recommending your promotion.”

  Scott shifted uncomfortably, not at all used to such praise. “Thanks, Mal. I’ll try not to let you down.”

  “You never have before.” Mason winked. “I can’t imagine you will now.”

  Hutchinson stepped back, offering a final nod and a crisp salute, before making his way down the gangway to stand with the others on the pier. His new command — the group that would form around HMNZS Ranginui, the second of the Royal New Zealand Navy’s aircraft carriers was already at sea, she was transiting through the Panama Canal and would arrive within the next few days and there was much work to be done, if they were to join the war effort as soon as possible.

  Tangaroa would go to sea with a new captain now — Captain Cayden MacNiell, recently promoted from his post as Executive Officer. A quiet, methodical man with a keen dry sense of humour and a solid reputation for calm under fire, MacNiell was the perfect choice to lead Tangaroa into what would undoubtedly be some of the fiercest fighting of the war.

  In Perth Australia, the British carrier HMS Queen Elizabeth was still undergoing repairs, her two-island configuration having to have a radical rebuild after the missile strike that had nearly gutted her during the Battle of the Malacca Strait. Rumour had it the Royal Navy was taking the opportunity to reconfigure her into a single-island design, to better suit her retrofitted CATOBAR layout, similar to the new Melbourne-class carriers and also taking the opportunity to upgrade her weapon systems. The Americans also had some good news on the carrier front — USS Ronald Reagan, though heavily damaged in the surprise first strike missile attack at White Sands, was already refloated and being towed into a dry dock. Estimates said she would be back in the fight within the year.

  But there was no time to dwell on the wounded.

  Today, three carriers would return to the line — HMNZS Tangaroa, HMAS Melbourne, and USS Carl Vinson — bolstering the allied carrier fleet against the relentless Chinese advance.

  Tangaroa's carrier battle group would consist of the Achilles-class cruiser HMNZS Achilles, the two Province-class air warfare destroyers HMNZS Waikato and Taranaki, the two Capital-class anti-submarine frigates HMNZS Auckland and Whangarei, the submarine HMNZS Mako, and the replenishment ship HMNZS Aotearoa.

  The USS Carl Vinson was the first to ease away from the pier, her bulk gliding slowly out into the channel, large tugs guiding her out to deep water. A few protest ships sailed in close enough to be noticed, but their efforts were token at best. She would spend the next week undergoing final trials to certify her new arrestor gear before heading west to link up with the Australians and British.

  An hour later, Tangaroa followed suit, her great hull parting the dark waters as she made for the open sea. Just beyond the harbour mouth, she linked up with USS Enterprise (CVN-80), the two carriers forming the heart of the Tangaroa battle group. Although the novelty of seeing one of America’s largest and newest aircraft carriers, and this one in particular, had mostly worn off, there were still some amongst the crew who paid her some special attention.

  The two carriers moved seamlessly into position side by side, the escorts performing an intricate set of manoeuvres to incorporate the American group. Once clear of the coast however, Tangaroa became a real carrier again, with the first specks of aircraft appearing on the eastern horizon — her air wing, flying out from Whenuapai, had arrived.

  One by one, the jets came in, catching the arrestor wires and rolling to a halt before being hustled into place by the multi-coloured deck crews. F-35C Lightning IIs, E/A-18G Growlers, E-2D Hawkeyes, CMV-22B Ospreys, MH-60R Seahawks and MQ-25 Stingray UAVs — each painted in Navy gray with the distinctive Kiwi roundel and the silver fern. The CAP would launch the moment the deck was clear, while helicopters would begin shuttling between the ships, establishing the layered defences that would guard the battle group across the Coral Sea.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Within two days, the Tangaroa battle group rendezvoused with the Royal Australian Navy's newest fleet carrier, HMAS Australia, off the northern coast of New Caledonia. For the first time in history, three fleet super carriers, from three different countries would sail into battle side by side — a testament to the strength of the ANZUS alliance forged in the crucible of war.

  They were on the hunt and In the days that followed, the combined group of three carriers, sailed within a fortress of cruisers, destroyers and frigates from all three nations. Nuclear and conventional submarines prowling beneath the waves, working in perfect sync with each other. They had worked off and on together for almost a year and any animosity or lack of confidence in the other’s abilities was long gone. They had a shared loyalty to each other now, born from history and built in blood, and soon that loyalty would be tested in the heat of battle.

  On the fifth morning, the fleet was just south of Palau when the Admirals received flash traffic from Pine Gap that the large Chinese force of four fleet carriers they had been hunting were in the area. The Tangaroa battle group was about to clash with the elements of the Chinese Navy supporting the invasion of the Philippines, in what would become known as the Battle of the Philippine Sea, it would be the first major sea battle of the war. The enemy outnumbered the allies — three Type-004 supercarriers and one Type-003 Fujian-class — but the allies fought with great daring and ruthless precision.

  From the moment the alert came in, each carrier had sent at least two E-2Ds aloft searching for the Chinese, but it was the lead flight from the Kiwi No.33 Squadron – The Southern Sentinels, which first spotted the formation.

  “Yo Skipper, Talley Ho! Large fleet formation bearing 340 at 15 kilometres.” Reported one of the radar techs in the back of 331, Cmdr Clancy Tawhiti’s plane.

  Tawhiti steered towards the contact point, and within a couple minutes the fleet came into view.

  “Copy, yup, I’ve got visual confirmation! Fuck me that’s a big group.” Tawhiti turned to his copilot, and they shared a moment of panic, but it was brief. Tawhiti’s heart pounded. His fingers were slick with sweat as he jammed the fleet radio button. “Sky Warrior this is Sentinel 331, large Chinese fleet spotted at my coordinates, four flat tops over thirty escorts.”

  “Missile alert, Missile Alert, we’re being painted!” Came another voice from the back of the plane.

  Tawhiti didn’t wait for a response, immediately banking into a cloud bank and diving to try and break the lock.

  Within minutes of receiving Sentinel 331’s information, the three big, allied fleet carriers turned their noses into the wind and a combined force of fifty F-35Cs shot off the deck. This was a quick evolution, all three carriers were equipped with the latest version of upgraded EMALS, which were much faster and far more efficient than the older steam driven systems. The EMALS, when it was first fitted to the Ford-class carriers in the late 2010’s, was revolutionary. However, the system had come along in leaps and bounds since then. Four jets were shot off the carriers decks every 30-45 seconds. The leap in this technology meant that the combined air power of the three carriers didn’t have to loiter for long periods, waiting the group to form up, consequently saving countless litres of fuel, which could then be used against the enemy.

  The F-35Cs of the strike group, had had their wing mounts removed for this mission to maintain stealth, their interior bays loaded with anti-ship joint strike missiles. They were followed by a mix of another twenty F-35c’s and fifteen E/A-18 Super Hornets, loaded down with as many AIM-9X Sidewinders and AIM-120 AMRAAMs they could fit onto the frames, which would provide the air cover element. These were followed by a swarm of E/A-18G Growlers, that would race ahead and punch an electronic hole for the others to slip through. This was an alpha strike, the allies planning to send an overwhelming message, leaving only limited air cover over the carriers, the escorts forming up to fill any gaps in the coverage.

  The Chinese had also had their KJ-600s aloft, and they too had spotted the allied carriers on the horizon. The Chinese carriers were not expecting allied or alliance carriers to be out this far, their intelligence from the MSS stated that these very carriers were still in drydock. Initially the Chinese Admirals laughed it off as just some nervous operator in the AWACs aircraft. Hence why they were in the process of launching a strike package of their own against ground targets in the Philippines. However, when visual confirmation came in of the carriers bearing down on them, they were forced to rapidly rearm for a strike against naval forces, this cost them valuable time. For a second time in a little less than a century two naval fleets were about to do battle without seeing each other.

  The Chinese were still in the process of forming up to make their attack and were not prepared for the ferocity of the allies, particularly the Americans. By the time the allied wings had reached the target coordinates the Chinese combat aircraft were flying in circles. The Growlers doing their job well. Wave after wave of sidewinders and AMRAAMs followed from the F-35Cs and F/A-18s flying overwatch, splashing Chinese fighters before they even knew they were there.

  The Chinese formation was in disarray. Their fighters circled helplessly, blinded by the Growlers' electronic jamming. Then, out of nowhere, the F-35Cs appeared—silent hunters dropping from the sky. For mere seconds, they became visible, just long enough to open their bays and loose their deadly payloads.

  “Got you now, you fat son of a bitch!” Mumbled Commander Bill “Bullseye” Tarrington, CO of VFA-14, The Top Hatters. He had just fired his joint strike missiles at the outside carrier. And he watched for a few seconds as the four large white projectiles darted in, avoiding much of the return fire. Satisfied, he banked hard left and raced home, the rest of his squadron following him.

  For the last couple of years the ‘Top Hatters’ had flown off Enterprise, but Tarrington had been around long enough to remember when they had flown off the Abraham Lincoln and he felt a small sense of vindication and vengeance as he watched three of the four missiles, he had fired pierce the hull of the Chinese carrier the resulting explosions near cutting it in half, through the rear looking camera on his glass cockpit display. Regardless of the regulations, there would be bourban passed around their ready room tonight! In honour of the Mighty Abe, in honour of friends lost.

  Once their missiles were expended, the rest of the strike package banked hard and returned home to reload. They had come in better prepared, with better equipment and better training, they hadn’t lost a single plane. The Chinese were not so lucky. Not only were they not able to make their strike against the enemy carriers, by the time the growlers and the cover element had left the area, over half of the Chinese air power was little more than smoking wreckage in the water. The Fujian had capsized and was beginning to sink beneath the waves and a considerable number of the Chinese escorts would soon be joining her.

  In a battle that had stretched across hundreds of kilometres of ocean, the Chinese had lost a carrier, several escorts and roughly half of their air power. But the victory was incomplete, by the time the allies had rearmed and returned, the Chinese had manoeuvred into friendly land based air cover. The allies would not be getting a second chance at this, and both fleets withdrew in a bloodied stalemate, the seas between the Philippines and New Guinea became a happy hunting ground for the allies as the great carrier groups circled one another — neither side willing to press for the decisive blow for now.

  ***

  HMNZS Canterbury – Just south of Guam, Pacific Ocean, April 2nd, 15:20 Local Time

  The knife-edged bows of the air warfare destroyer HMNZS Canterbury and the frigate HMNZS Greymouth cleaved through the rolling Pacific swells, grey hulls rising and falling with the restless sea. Overhead, the sky darkened, bruised with the promise of an approaching storm.

  Their mission in Guam—damage assessments, aid distribution, and security—was complete, relieved by a hastily assembled American task force. Now, at best speed, they were headed south for Fiji. But the uneasy quiet of the open ocean was about to be shattered.

  Captain Caleb Rawlinson stood on the bridge of Canterbury, watching the radar repeater screen as the ship’s sensors picked up an unusual return—multiple contacts, moving fast.

  "Bridge, CiC! Contact, bearing zero-eight-five, range ninety nautical miles. Multiple surface vessels, unknown identification," reported Lieutenant Commander Kate Miller, the ship's principal warfare officer.

  Rawlinson had read the flash traffic reports about his old friend Malachi’s success against the Chinese carrier group. As an allied ship, they had been warned about the possibility of action in the area.

  "Bridge CiC, drone is up and sending. They look Chinese," Miller muttered darkly. “I think they’ve seen us, they’re altering course this way and moving fast!”

  Rawlinson frowned, stepping forward to the window as if he could the offending ships through the gloom. The Chinese battlegroup had been pushed back after their carrier had gone down, but their escorts were still out there angry, bloodied, and looking for revenge.

  "ACTION STATIONS! Set condition Zulu throughout the ship, Damage parties to stand-by.” Rawlinson ordered. " Commo, signal Greymouth, tell them we've got company."

  A few moments later, Commander Liam Te Awa’s, the Captain of the Greymouth, voice crackled over the secure ship to ship comms link. "Canterbury this is Greymouth, We see them, moving to defend!"

  "Copy that Greymouth," Rawlinson replied, then turned to the bridge. "They're closing awfully fast. Stand by for evasive manoeuvres, P-WO weapons free, let’s not take any chances."

  As the distance shrank between them, Rawlinson glanced at Benson. "This won’t end well, you have the Bridge I’m going to CiC."

  Before Benson could reply, a shrill alarm cut through the bridge—incoming missiles.

  “Bridge CiC. Hostile inbound… Missile detected! Track ID 065, 066, 067, 068, bearing through 085 degrees, range 60 nautical miles!”

  The Chinese destroyers had made their decision. Four missile trails flared against the darkening sky, racing toward the two Kiwi warships at supersonic speed.

  "Incoming! All hands, brace!" shouted Commander James Benson, the XO.

  The three HELIOS-TWK Mk1 500kW laser turrets hummed to life, their Aegis controlled targeting modules locking onto the incoming threats. A blinding pulse of red energy speared through the gloom, striking one of the missiles mid-air and causing it to detonate in a fireball. Another laser blast caught a second missile, slicing it in half before it could reach the ship.

  "Bridge, CiC. Two down! Two still inbound!" Miller called out.

  A RIM-116 missile from Canterbury's SeaRAM CIWS shot out of its launcher automatically, killing the third missile. But the last missile managed to evade while the port side HELIOS was charging and slipped through.

  A massive explosion tore through the portside hangar bay, sending flames and debris spiralling into the night. The ship shuddered violently, alarms blaring as damage control teams scrambled to contain the fire.

  "Bridge this is Paterson in Damage Control aft, we’ve taken a hit to the hangar!" shouted Lieutenant Commander Thomas Paterson, the ship’s chief engineer. "We've lost an MH-60! But the hull is intact!"

  On Greymouth, Commander Te Awa wasted no time. "Return fire! Launch Naval Strike Missiles!"

  From both ships, Naval Strike Missiles roared from their launch tubes, streaking low across the water toward the Chinese destroyers. Canterbury's forward 5-inch gun joined in, hammering the lead vessel with rapid bursts of high-explosive rounds.

  One of the Chinese destroyers took a direct hit amidships, its hull rupturing in a massive fireball before breaking apart. Another destroyer was struck near its stern, its propulsion system crippled as secondary explosions erupted along its deck.

  But the Chinese weren’t backing down. Their remaining ships surged forward, guns blazing, determined to take their revenge.

  Canterbury’s forward HELIOS mount erupted, with a 500kW beam of super-heated energy, cutting straight through the oncoming warship’s bridge, slicing through at an angle to the hull. This was followed by a punishing salvo of 5inch shells from Canterbury and Greymouth. Within minutes the lead Chinese warship was little more than molten slag, hissing as at sunk beneath the waves.

  More of the Chinese anti-ship missiles followed, but the two RNZN ships were in a better position, and they were all cut down by laser of SeaRAM fire.

  “P-WO, Bridge. We’re wickedly outnumbered here, Kate target their masts with the HELIOS, blind them so we can disengage!”

  Seconds later, the HELIOS mounts from both ships spouted their beams of light and several of the Chinese masts were cut away, coming down in a shower of molten metal and a rain of sparks.

  From the gloom above, a sudden flurry of joint strike missiles—stealthy, long-range anti-ship missiles—rained down on the remaining Chinese ships. Explosions bloomed across the water as the pursuing destroyers were struck multiple times.

  “Allied aircraft, this is Canterbury, we have your friendly ident, thanks for the assist.” Called Sub.Lt Sarah Bell, the Canterbury’s communications officer.

  “Canterbury this is Reaper 212, Happy to help a friend, Sky warrior says hello.” Replied Lieutenant Pete Maxwell of No.2 Squadron, ‘The Ocean Reapers’, off of Tangaroa.

  "Bridge Commo! That’s friendly air cover!" Bell called in relief, the two grey F-35Cs already peeling off in the other direction.

  The Chinese formation wavered, their attack broken. With four ships already lost and more incoming strikes, they finally broke off the pursuit.

  "Now we withdraw," Rawlinson said, exhaling sharply. "Helm, take us south. Best speed."

  Two days later, the battered Canterbury and her escort slipped into Suva Harbour under the cover of night. The scars of battle were evident—her portside hangar bay was blackened and gaping, with smoke still curling from twisted metal.

  As soon as they docked, Fijian and New Zealand dock workers and damage control teams swarmed over the ship, beginning immediate repairs. The surviving MH-60 Seahawk was carefully towed out of the wrecked hangar, its fuselage scorched from the explosion.

  On the bridge, Rawlinson and Te Awa exchanged a weary nod, the Greymouth’s Captain had come aboard Canterbury to discuss the after action report.

  "Hell of a fight," Te Awa said. “Is running with you always like this?”

  "Apparently so.” Rawlinson replied, with a slight frown, wondering how he was going to explain this one to Sarah and Cody. “We gave a hell of a lot better than we got though!"

  “True that. These lasers are a god send, I wonder why the Chinese aren’t using them, I mean surely, they have them, right?” Te Awa mused.

  ‘No idea, I’m just happy they don’t, though I can’t imagine that will last.” Rawlinson replied.

  Both stood in companiable silence for a few minutes, each going through their own thoughts.

  “That was my first real combat outside of simulation.” Te Awa said softly. “All that training, but you never really know how you’re gonna handle it when it happens.”

  “You did fine, so did your crew, things would have been a lot worse without you.” Rawlinson stated, with a cheery smile that he barely felt.

  They both knew it wasn’t over. The war was only beginning—and next time, they might not get so lucky. Te Awa saluted the Captain and made to leave, but just before he got to the door, he turned, a quizzical look on his face.

  “Oh, what was all that ‘Sky Warrior’ business about?”

  “Just an old friend saying hello.” Rawlinson answered, looking out the window at the clear blue tropical ocean in front of him.

  ***

  HMNZS Canterbury – Suva Dockside, Fiji, April 5th.

  Rawlinson’s cell phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket. It was a message from Sarah, she was waiting down on the pier. Caleb sent back that he was just putting the finishing touches on his report and that he would be right down.

  Ten minutes later, he emerged on the gangway, saluted the ensign and walked down to greet his wife. Cody was also there he noticed with a smile. Sarah was not happy, he could see that a mile away. Though most of the damage was on the port side and the opposite side to the pier, there was no mistaking the cranes and repair crews.

  “What happened?” Cody asked, a mixture of wonderment and fear in his voice.

  Caleb leant down, picked his son up in a hug and held him tight for a minute to reassure the boy. “Some bad men tried to stop Daddy from getting back to you and your mum. But we wouldn’t let them.”

  The look on Sarah’s face said that there was going to be some serious discussion about this later.

  She waited until they were home. Cody was playing outside with some of the other navy kids from the neighbourhood. They were in the kitchen preparing dinner.

  Through the open window he could hear the peels of laughter from the boys, they were having some kind of water war, and he hoped that was all the war his son would ever see. His mind was immediately thrust back to the moment when that missile had struck Canterbury, again! Sure they hadn’t lost that one, but the juxtaposition of that scene in his mind, on to what he was seeing in front of him was a stark reminder of what he risked every time he went out there.

  The gorgeous blue water of the island paradise crashing against the shore not 100 feet from where he stood. That same sea, so calm and beautiful now, had nearly swallowed him whole just days before. It messed with his head, more than he would ever understand, Sarah pulled him back to reality, as she always did.

  “Tell me how bad it was,” she asked, her voice sharp.

  “It was bad, very bad, they ambushed us pretty good, but we got out of it.” Caleb replied, he had never lied to his wife, never saw the point in it, and he wasn’t about to start now. “We still have the advantage in firepower for now, but they still have the numbers. If it wasn’t for Mal sending some help at the last minute, things might have been different, but I can assure you, we won’t be going out in small groups like that anymore.”

  “I heard what you told Cody, he’s not a kid anymore Cabe, that won’t work for much longer.”

  “I know… I just…” Caleb hesitated, searching for words. “I just want him to stay a kid for a little while longer, you know?”

  Sarah looked at her husband, the man she loved with all her heart, even if she was mighty pissed at him for almost dying, again! For now the relief of seeing him standing there, his words, his promises, they were holding back the anger for now. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek softly.

  “I know exactly what you mean.” She whispered into his ear.