Brad's Point of View
"Daddy wins again!" Kat cheered enthusiastically.
He was playing "Royal Rocket Racing", a game Galiban had made himself. The game featured vehicle designs similar to real starships being used in asteroid mining operations. For now, those operations were exploratory, taking samples and such, but soon things would escalate.
"You like the big rocks, Kat?" Brad asked his daughter.
"Daaaddy," she whined, "they're called asteroids."
Could you believe she wasn't quite two? Katalin was smart.
"My mistake, sweetie," he apologized. "We're not quite there, but someday soon all those machines and bases you saw on the asteroids will be very real. For now it's just a video game, though. Would you like to be an asteroid miner?"
His daughter's face scrunched up adorably. "Maybe a little," she allowed. "But mostly I want to be a sailor like daddy!"
"I'm sure your mother will make sure you get a starship of your own when you grow up," he said, somewhat weirded out by the fact that he was telling the truth.
Reka was heavily pregnant again, though they weren't sure when she was actually due. It could be tomorrow; it could be another month. Magic made it weird. She was getting coffee with Julie and Alice, which set up this daddy/daughter day quite nicely.
"Like the Enterprise?" she asked.
I am a success as a father, Brad thought. "Exactly like the Enterprise, Kat. We could even name your starship the Enterprise."
"Yay!" The energy in her toddler body pretty much overloaded and she started flying circles around his head, effortlessly swimming through the air like it was water. "Daddy, daddy, I can do tricks!"
Kat flipped and corkscrewed and did barrel-rolls, summoned her two stuffed dolphins, and proceeded to fly with them in a figure eight pattern around the palace living room.
He watched her for a while, forgetting the game. Then he remembered.
"Katalin," he addressed her. Use of her full name caused the princess to freeze in the air. "Do you need to drain some of your excess magic?"
She floated over. "Yes, daddy. I'm starting to feel that explodey feeling again."
Yeah, so, when Kat got too excited she could cause random explosions. It was a whole big thing. Brad got up and brought his daughter her princess tiara and magical girl wand. These were toys for any other little girl, but very necessary for her. Kat's toys had magic circles etched into them that allowed the absorption of her overflowing arcane energy.
"Moon prism power!" she cried and the jewel in the tiara shined so bright Brad had to look away. When he looked back Kat was wearing a sailor suit.
"Sweetie, those were new clothes!" he chided.
The princess wasn't phased at all. "I can change back later, daddy. Today I feel like a sailor."
This was not the first time she'd done something like this. Her hair, usually the exact same midnight black as Reka, changed whenever she felt like being blonde for a day, or red, or purple. Mostly, it depended on what anime they were watching. As his wife said, the laws of physics were just "suggestions" for their daughter.
"Feeling better?" Brad asked. "Not explodey anymore?"
Kat shook her head. "Nope, nice and light. How about another race?"
There was no way he could say no to that. She nestled into his side and about halfway through the race he felt her drift off. Draining her magic usually made Kat sleepy. Pausing the game, he gently picked her up and carried her to bed.
What a little miracle you are, he thought. Just watching her sleep was amazing. One of her "Kat naps" usually lasted a couple hours. He sat down and pulled out his phone.
"Let's check the news app," he said.
Boom, the new mikro was lightning fast.
"Another shipment of American drones was intercepted off the west African coast," Brad muttered. There were estimates that the GDP of the United States had contracted by double digits since proper economic warfare began. He didn't really know what to feel. A part of Brad still loved his home country deep down, but it was just under really shitty management at present.
Shouldn't have voted for Blimp, guys...
The shipyards feeding the RECA Navy were cracking out dozens of frigates and patrol boats, keeping watch on coastlines as far away as Indonesia and South Africa. Squadrons were separated by language. One squadron would be Polish, another Hungarian, another Ukrainian, and so on. Senior officers had to speak English for coordination, which wasn't that onerous a requirement with the mind pills.
One country after another signed an affiliation agreement with RECA, with Saudi Arabia and DR Congo being the most recent additions. They were going to have to change what RECA stood for at some point. It was bigger than Europe now.
Of course, they didn't have all of Europe. The west was still holding out, though Italy and Spain had been playing footsie with Reka for a few months now. If they flipped then the remnants of NATO would be properly toast.
Wait...
It dawned on Brad in that moment. Reka wasn't going to stop. She was going to take over. They'd always been moving in a certain direction but he never really stopped to think where it all ended.
"I'm going to be the king of the world," he said out loud. It was absurd, but it was true. His wife would squeeze and squeeze and eventually even America and China would bow to her. She was the Demon Queen.
Did he even care? Hungary was clearly improved under her rule. Reka had never hurt anyone who didn't wrong her first, and above all she was his wife.
The more he thought about it, the more right it seemed. Brad owed her everything; Brad belonged to her. If Reka wanted to be Queen of the whole world then that's what he wanted too.
Brad scrolled a little more and he saw something that made his blood run cold.
"New Taiping Rebellion," he read, "what the hell..."
Wasn't that one of the most deadly wars in history? Before the world wars, anyway.
He kept reading. "Tens of millions of young Chinese people, calling Queen Reka the 'Goddess of Dieting' and 'Goddess of Studying', largely organized on the Chinese version of NikNak, have risen up in rebellion. This decentralized, internet-based cult..."
It went on from there. Brad knew his wife was popular, but worshiping her as a goddess?
Who was he kidding? It was plausible. She had a little cult in college. His perception of "normal" was completely distorted by living in Reka's palace bubble. Brad had no idea how ordinary people viewed her.
The next story on his phone was about something called the "Rota Crisis" but before he could read more he heard Reka come in.
"The baby is sleeping," he whispered to her. Reka kissed him. She tasted like coffee.
"Has Kat been good?" she asked softly.
"You know she has," Brad said. He handed her the wand and tiara. "Needed to let off a little steam, but no more accidents, thank goodness."
"We can empty her magic toys in a bit. I've got happy news: Alice and Taras are getting married!"
"That's great, honey," he said. "I look forward to the wedding, but there is something I was meaning to ask you."
"Yes, my love?"
Brad gave her a look. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this 'New Taiping Rebellion', would you?"
Suddenly Reka greatly resembled Katalin after getting caught with a cookie before dinner. "Ehe, ehehe," she nervously played with her blouse. "You know how zealots are, my love."
He didn't, actually. "Well, I guess China will be busy for a while. Think we'll be getting a new addition to the RECA family?"
Now it was her turn to give him a look. "More than one, Brad. The American economy is on the brink of collapse. Some of their soldiers didn't get paid this month, not that US dollars are worth much these days. Western Europe is finally ready to break away. There is just one small problem."
This would be good. "What's that?"
"There is an American naval base in Spain, a 'Naval Station Rota'. The Spanish have ordered them to vacate, and they've refused. Rota is presently under siege. The United States has dispatched a fleet to relieve them."
Dread and anticipation twisted in his gut. "You mean..."
"The Spanish have asked us for help. I'm sending the fleet. Our cold war with America will soon grow hot."
"I'm going," Brad said with determination.
His wife looked deeply into his eyes. "You don't have to, you know. I would not ask you to fight your own people. Galiban could..."
"I'm the only one who knows how to handle the Yamato. Those anti-submarine warfare frigates I've asked for can detect even very quiet AIP subs. There's nothing they have that can hurt me. Besides, it's symbolic. I'm fighting for you; I'm choosing you!"
Reka embraced him fiercely. "Cover yourself in glory, my love," she whispered into his ear. "We'll await news of your victory."
***
The fleet he took to the Strait of Gibraltar was built around protecting the battleship Yamato. Anti-submarine frigates acted as pickets while a squadron of larger direct energy destroyers kept closer to the flagship to defend against air attack. A single light carrier with a squadron of airborne early warning aircraft provided long range radar coverage. Those turboprop planes with the big rotodome on top were actually unmanned, with an instance of Galiban controlling each one. There was at least one of these Farseers in the air at all times.
"Anything yet?" Brad asked.
"Negative, Admiral," his contact manager reported. The whole crew of the Yamato was Hungarian, the best their impromptu naval academy could rapidly train with the help of mind pills. Every one of them was fiercely loyal to Queen Reka.
"Satellite intelligence indicates three carrier strike groups steaming towards Rota," reported his intel officer. "Approximate time to engagement range: twelve hours."
"I want the Damocles satellites standing by to take out their GPS, but not yet," Brad ordered. "I don't want them to panic and run."
Call it prejudice, but Brad didn't have a high opinion of the US surface fleet. Without the crutch of GPS they'd rapidly become disorganized and the operation would probably be called off. No, he wanted to catch them.
Every last ship in his fleet was nuclear powered so they were rapidly approaching Rota; he expected to arrive well before the Americans.
Isn't Cape Trafalgar around here? So much history. Brad wondered what Admiral Nelson would've made of the Yamato.
Brad sipped on his coffee and watched his monitor, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Nothing did, for a while.
"We've got helicopters in the air dropping sonar buoys," an officer said.
Shit! They're here!
After five minutes of tension he got word one of their frigates launched an anti-submarine missile.
"One sub down," that same officer reported.
First blood.
"Give the Rota garrison one last chance to surrender," he said once they arrived.
The United States Marine Corps, better known for their bravery than their intelligence, refused, of course.
Dragonlance plasma cannons, usually an anti-air weapon, were perfectly usable against ground targets. After a short, sharp bombardment, the pristine white buildings of Naval Station Rota were molten slag.
"Mop up operations can be done later," Brad said. "Plot an intercept course with the American fleet."
Growing bolder after the American submarine fleet proved toothless, he was in the mood to be aggressive.
"The carriers are launching their aircraft; they know we're here," the intel officer reported.
"Flank speed," Brad ordered, "steam right into their teeth. We're not afraid."
Before he knew it, there were hundreds of hostile contacts in the air, planes and missiles both.
"Take out their satellites, Galiban."
Damocles armed satellites, positioned just for this, swept everything American out of Earth's orbit with hot plasma.
"Their fighters are trying to dump their munitions and turn tail," a junior officer reported.
Risk averse, just like I knew they would be, Brad observed.
"The Mjolnir will be in range soon. Focus on zapping these hornets and then I'll kill their nest with fire."
Even at high noon, the blue streaks of the Dragonlances made the day brighter. The whole crew had earplugs in to deal with the constant thunder. Entire American fighter squadrons were wiped out in a matter of minutes. There was one scary moment when an F-35 escaped detection until it came within fifty kilometers of them but as soon as it showed up on radar it was cooked. The radar on the Farseers was the best in the business, and no stealth was perfect. Almost anti-climatically, the air battle ended when they ran out of targets.
"The Mjolnir is in range, Admiral. We've got a firing solution on the George H.W. Bush."
Perfect. "Fire!"
Ironically, the Yamato's huge rail gun wasn't particularly loud. With a somewhat disappointing "thwump" it launched a plasma shell as big as a small car towards the American carrier.
Brad didn't see this until later when film of the event was released worldwide, but the shell struck the George H.W. Bush amidships as it was sailing into the wind on an aircraft recovery operation. The plasma exploded in a mushroom cloud and cut the ship clean in two like a sword made of hellfire. She foundered shortly thereafter.
The other two carriers attempted to flee, taking random sharp turns in hopes of dodging incoming fire. Most people didn't know that aircraft carriers are fucking fast. They weren't faster than Galiban, though. Cyber warfare halted their evasive action and two more "thwumps" resulted in two more sunk flattops.
Brad let the destroyers go. He'd made his point.
On the way home they heard that President Blimp had a heart attack, or maybe he'd been murdered, who cares? What mattered was President BJ Spence wanted to sign a peace deal. Spence was just as gutless and unprincipled as Brad always thought he was.
When they steamed into the new RECA naval base in Rijeka, Croatia, the docks were lined with cheering people. Flags of every RECA nation were there flying proudly. Brad waved politely, searching the crowd for the only faces he really wanted to see.
"Daddy won!" Kat cheered as she flew into his arms. Brad hoped they'd be able to play it off as just a very long jump.
"Welcome home, my love," Reka said, embracing him as he walked ashore. She hadn't had the baby yet. He was glad he hadn't missed the birth of his son.
Finally allowing himself to relax, Brad Regis watched the sunset with his wife and daughter. In that moment, he was the happiest man on Earth.