//------------------------------// // 33. New Arrivals In Town // Story: The Atlantean-Dominion War // by The Atlantean //------------------------------// Captain Middle Road looked to the south as a large battle group sailed into the harbor. It consisted of four Artemis frigates, six Fireheart corvettes, and two Mermaid “battlewagons.” It was more Atlantean ships in one place than she’d ever seen. Judging by the state of disrepair all twelve ships displayed, they’d been on the high seas for at least a year. A couple had fires blazing on decks, and they most likely hoped to get the yard’s fireponies to help put them out. It must have been a terrible battle they faced at the end in order to be in this condition. As they approached, one of Artemis frigates bulged for a split second, then exploded in a massive fireball. The glowing orange cloud billowed upward, carried by its own heat. Splinters flew everywhere, impacting the sides of the surrounding ships and hammering the dockyard less than a third of a mile away. The heat wave slammed into Captain Road as she shielded her eyes from the bright flash, but it wasn’t enough to carry her with it. Anypony who survived the explosion immediately dove overboard into the cold, frothy water as dinghies cruised out to to rescue them. Those pulled from the bay were wrapped in blankets or spare canvas. Middle Road knew that Harbormaster Nightmane would be proud of the quick-acting team he’d put together for events just like this, where a ship sunk in the bay and they had no way to shore. Meanwhile, as the survivors were rescued and the rest of the fleet slowed to a crawl as they reached the docks, the Captain hurried to meet the flagship’s commander. ------------------------ “Who is the military commander here?” a  simply-dressed admiral asked Mr. Nightmane. “Captain Road, sir. She should be here soon,” he replied. The tan Unicorn bounded down the pier from land. The harbormaster noticed her long drags for air, and realized she’d been in Town Square, two miles to the north. “Here she is, sir.” “Thank you, Harbormaster.” The navy-blue Earth pony turned his gaze to the Captain as she hurried. When she arrived and saluted, he returned it and smiled. “Captain Road.” She gulped nervously. “Admiral Mariner. Or should I say Commodore?” “Please, Captain, call me Bio. My crew created that name for me, and I quite like it.” “Of course, sir. What brings you here to Summercrest?” The admiral sighed. His military-cut aquamarine mane and tail swished slowly, and his azure eyes locked on hers. “Captain, if you would come aboard my ship to the wardroom, where we can discuss this matter away from civilian ears.” “Sir, Mr. Nightmane should be allowed to go. He can keep a secret.” “He is a civilian. This is for military eyes and ears only.” “Mr. Nightmane is coordinating the restoration of an iron cruiser. In other words, he is in charge of the Summercrest Project. If this concerns me, it concerns him.” Bio rolled his eyes. “Fine. But he will not speak of what he sees or hears without my explicit permission.” “I understand, sir,” Nightmane said. --------------------------- Soon, Bio, Captain Middle Road, Harbormaster Nightmane, and the other captains in the fleet were gathered in the wardroom of the admiral’s flagship, Golden Sunrise. Each of the newcomers knew the current situation, but they also knew that Middle Road and Nightmane had to be brought up to speed. They let the admiral do the talking. Bio planted a navy-blue hoof on the map. “We are here.” He dragged his hoof along the map until he reached a small island in the middle of the Celestial Sea. “The Doms have a base here, judging by the concentration of enemy forces gathered around it. They have frigates, ships of the line, corvettes, everything. Now, I’d normally not be concerned with the fact that a bunch of Doms are in the middle of the ocean, but…” he pointed at the major city nearest the island. “Nautinia.” Middle Road breathed. “Exactly. The route I took to return from my deep-sea patrol this past year brought me to within six nautical miles of the place. What I sailed in with today is all that came out.” “Except one of your ships exploded.” Nightmane pointed out. “Firestorm had been ablaze for the last several days. Her captain told me he could control it. All of my captains said they could control the unending fires aboard their ships. Right before Firestorm blew, I saw her deck cave in. That means her deck was weakened enough by the fire that it just fell apart and land on her magazine. Until then, we were sure she’d make it. It’s sad, really. They were so close, but were lost before they could make it. Captain Winterfoal was a good stallion.” Mr. Nightmane perked up at that name. “Winterfoal? Was he a thestral?” “Yes.” Admiral Mariner said simply. “Why?” “They’re good friends of my family.” “I’m sorry you had to learn this way.” “It’s alright. Captain Winterfoal was bound to go soon anyway.” “That he was,” Bio agreed. “But back to business. A Fireheart corvette we passed on our way here told us that there was an airship here?” “Yes, there was,” Middle Road answered, “but we sent it to carry stuff to the Second Coastal in Pacifica. All lot of their guys came from here.” A question popped in her mind. “Why did you come here when you could’ve went on to a city closer to Nautinia?” “Because they chased us all the way to this point, about seventy miles south of Cape Lune,” he replied, illustrating with his hoof on the map. “By then, our weak, tired old ships obviously weren’t the trouble, time, and resources needed to chase us and finish us off. During that chase, we lost the battlewagon Lowest Common Denominator, the frigates Unrepentant Camper and Green Gelatin, the corvettes Buck Off, Comfort Is For Wimps, and Whales Aren’t Big Enough, and all their crews. May they rest in peace,” he said, taking off his three-pointed hat. The others, who hadn’t had hats, briefly bowed their heads in respect for those who’d been lost. “We had ships with those names?” “No,” Bio explained, “but our fleet had been together so long and had been through so much during this deployment that we had made nicknames for our ships. I let them go crazy with it, and ended up with less pressure in the kettle. Anyway, with where we were, this was our last gamble. We were actually worried that the Doms had taken this place.” “They could have, multiple times,” Middle Road said. “But the power behind the Indianapolis just beat the stuffing out them. With that iron cruiser, we can shoot at them from miles away and still hit! She also has this thing called “ray-darr,” which can see enemies, even over the horizon! Plus, Mr. Seagull was able to repair one of the cruiser’s flying machines, which we sadly have extremely limited fuel for, and our scouting ability has increased greatly. No Dom ship has come within at least twenty miles of Summercrest for the past year.” “You said the flying machine has a limited amount of fuel?” a captain asked. “Yes, so we limit its flight time while we try to make more. Mr. Seagull meticulously goes over it every day so it can get airborne.” “Could it be possible that Dom ships have gone by during the time your machine is on the ground?” “Not within that range, because the “ray-darr” can see enemies up to thirty miles away, though I’ve noticed Dom battlewagons are seen at closer to about twenty. On days we send out the flying machine, called a plane, that range is more like a hundred.” “Why aren’t your Fireheart corvettes deployed? You could use those.” “They are deployed, sir.” Middle Road sighed. “My ships Sundering Sea, Cape Lune, and Dragonheart, are currently near the Cape Lune sandbar trying to recover Neptune from the sea. Tie Dye, my exec, thought of it, so I told her to give it a shot.” “The best way to honor a ship that’s been lost is to leave it be, to let it rest on the ocean floor.” “Neptune’s mainmast is sticking out of the water. That means the depth is shallow enough for divers. If my ponies can’t recover the ship, by Harmony, we’ll at least get her armament and bury anypony we find down there. So far, all the main guns have been recovered and her armory is being scavenged. Her strong box copy of the log and ship’s plate were brought up this morning. I’m in charge of this area, and I was in charge of that ship. I will do anything in my power to bring her back to the best of my ability.” Bio raised an eyebrow. “No offense, Captain Road, but I am the highest-ranking naval officer here. However, I will not interfere with your salvage operation as long as what I need done is complete.” “And you need to tell Nautinia about the Dom fleet poised to strike the coast.” “Yes.” “What was the fleet composition, to the best of your knowledge?” Nightmane asked. He’d started to become forgotten, and his question brought him back to everypony’s attention. “We’ll need to send that information as well,” he explained. “Four prison frigates, forty-three battlewagons, seventy floating batteries, fifty logistics vessels, sixty standard frigates, ninety corvettes, and three hundred gunboats.” Middle Road’s eyes widened. “With that, they could strike anywhere, anytime, and in more than one place at once.” She looked back at the map. “As that reference sheet found in Indianapolis’ log would say, we’re more than FUMTU’d. We’re FUBAR’d.” “FUBAR’d?” “Screwed Up Beyond All Recognition, sir.”