Pacific Ocean, West of Grand America, 1300 hours GMT
In charge of the unusually large fleet, lingering just of American reach, was Imperial Commander Pak'Ta. In his early years, he had served on a transport ship, nothing more than a lowly sailor of the name 332409821. As he rose though the ranks, keeping his wits close, he earned the name Pak'Ta. He now stood on a transport ship, though not the same as his old ship, was no different. The only obstructions were the many Hornet heli-jets that sat tucked closely together. A wrong move, he thought, as it would have taken a simple, even misplace, missile to disable half of them. Still, if less than half could get up into the air, the enemy would have their hands full. Not much information had been received about the enemy. As far as the Commander knew, they were fighting another pointless war, in an unknown country. All they had told him was that he needed to keep the vessels, especially the transport ships, far from the shores of the United States. From his ship, as tall as the observation deck was, the coasts were hidden within the blue haze of the horizon. As long as the hornets are ready, he thought to himself.
On the eastern shores of Cental America, mobile island points readied for their impending journey. Going at a total rate of 10 knots, they were easily susceptible to ambush, but extremely well armed. On each of the five that prepared to set out, each used a nuclear engine, and carried three transport planes, and five transport boats. These massive ships were so expensive that of the five only one was every really completed. The others were ailed with technical problems, among other things. The ships, however, weren't coming to close to Grand America. They would act as jumping points for transport planes, from Cental america, to the mobile island, and on to Grand America. They doubled as refueling and repairing stations for ships and their heli-jets.
