//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1 
// Story: R. A. Heinlein 
// by totallynotabrony 
//------------------------------//

R.A. Heinlein
Fourth in the Sail Canvas Quadrilogy


Calls in the middle of the night are never good news, especially if they reach you through a secure communication link out to sea.  I heard the portable radio on the bedside table in my stateroom buzz and picked it up.  There was a moment’s pause as the feed was linked through various places.  Then, I found myself speaking to Carl Hanley of the Central Intelligence Agency.
“What’s up?” I asked.
Based on his tone, I probably infuriated him with my casual attitude.  “What’s up?  The North Koreans decided to kick off a full-scale war by detonating nuclear weapons!”
I jerked upright.  There was a lot I could have said, but managed to contain my inner smartass.  “What do you need me to do?”
“Get headed in that direction.  I’ll get you further details when I can.”  His signal was terminated, but the line was still active.  
Andy Newhart, the operator who had passed the call from the communications center to my radio, came on.  “Sail, what are we going to do?”
“You know the drill.  What the CIA says goes.”
Andy said he would get things taken care of.  Within a few seconds, I heard the ship’s engines pick up a few RPM.
I lay back, listening to the waves slide along the hull.  A set of fingers slid along my mane and touched my feathers.  I turned my head to see Nika Ivanova looking at me with a concerned expression.  “That sounded serious.”
Her voice carried a slight Russian accent.  I had met her almost a year previously, in the early summer of 2016.  It was a very unconventional relationship we had, woman and stallion, but out here on the ship there was very little public to please.
“Well, I imagine a Korean War—with nukes—is pretty serious.”  I had seen some very serious things in my time working freelance for the CIA, the U.S. Navy, and occasionally even Equestria.
“Did Hanley say how they were used?”  Nika had just as much experience as I, even in the brief time we’d been running this crazy spec ops business.
“No.  I imagine we’ll hear soon.”  I got out of bed, somewhat reluctant to leave her touch, but decided I should go assess the situation.  I flew down the passageway because it was little faster than walking.  My trip ended in the Combat Information Center, located near the center of the ship.  Andy was there.
He was an old friend of mine, one of the first human friends I had.  Growing up on Earth is a little difficult when you’re one of the only kids in school with hooves.  We’d gone our separate ways later in life, Andy spending time as a college language professor before joining us on the ship.  
My parents had started a shipbuilding company on the Earth side of the dimensional doorways.  I was born in Virginia, and therefore automatically a US citizen.  I inherited the company after they passed away.  Then the CIA got involved and things got nuts in a hurry.
Andy looked up as I came in and pointed to a few of the various computer displays that were arranged around the room.  “This might be more serious than we thought.”
I looked at the information on display, my mouth hardening into a thin line.  This was worse than I could have imagined.
Within a few hours, the whole world knew what had happened.  Two nuclear devices had been detonated.  One was in the harbor of Yokosuka, Japan.  The United States Navy’s Seventh Fleet had been in port at the time.  A few smaller ships were capsized, and nearly all sustained some kind of damage.  It would take a while to get an accurate death toll.
The other bomb had gone off west of Hawaii as an aircraft carrier battle group was clearing port.  The damage was surprisingly light, but repairs would still be required before the ships were fully operational again.
Now, the nearest naval force was a carrier battle group that was currently deployed in the Middle East and whatever ships could be hastily put to sea from the west coast of the United States.
There was not yet any definitive proof as to the owners of the nukes, but since North Korea had launched a massive land attack on the South almost simultaneously with the detonations, certain assumptions were made.  Without the US Navy to provide support and firepower, the ground troops helping out the South Koreans would have a much more difficult time of it.  Worse, with two nuclear weapons already set off, it was hard not to wonder how many more the North might have.
The governments of the United States and the rest of NATO and the UN were scrambling to decide how to react.  Some countries were firmly against any kind of involvement.  Most of NATO was ready to help out, however.  Unfortunately, nearly all of their forces were on the other side of the world.
We had been positioned in the Philippines, a relatively short jaunt from Korea.  Later, when Hanley got back to us, I was called to the CIC for a video conference.
Hawker Hurricane was on deck when I arrived.  She was British, a former porn actress, and married to Andy.  She was also a whiz at electronics, and covered the CIC when he wasn’t there.
While she was setting up the conference, a pegasus mare named Penny came in.  We’d picked her up the previous year, partly because she was an orphan, but also because she was a heck of a sailor.  Her cutie mark designated a special talent with finances, which we unfortunately didn't find much use for on the ocean.
She stood by while Hawker turned on the video chat.  I sat down in front of the camera.  On the screen, I was surprised to see Carl Hanley with the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.  CJCS was the top military position in the country.  The two of them looked at me.  I glanced quickly at the small check monitor to make sure I was presentable.  Yes, silver mane straight.  Sea-green feathers aligned.
“We’ve never put you in an active combat role before,” began Hanley.  I knew instantly I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
“I’m sure you’ve heard that the Navy has taken a major hit,” he went on.
The Chairman broke in.  “We don’t have time for this.  Mr. Canvas, you’ve got a warship; we’d like to hire you.”
“What, one ship versus the entire North Korean Navy?” I asked.
“Canvas,” said Hanley, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you it’s that you show a remarkable proficiency for saving your own skin.  I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“All right,” I said.  I thought for a moment.  “Isn’t it traditional to issue a privateer a Letter of Marque?”
Hanley and the Chairman looked at each other.  The current Chairman was not a Navy man, and it took him a moment to get the reference.  He shrugged.  “Under these special circumstances, I think I can get Congress and the President to approve it.”
“Great,” I said.  “Now let’s discuss payment.”
“What do you mean?” asked Hanley.
“Since you’re coming to me instead of the other way around, there should be some conditions set.  In this day and age, it’s impossible to run a ship without a steady flow of money.  I can’t perform my duty to the United States if I can’t keep my vessel going.”
“What kind of money are you asking for?” said Hanley warily.
“How about this,” suggested Penny, breaking in.  “Operating expenses, plus a bonus of a dollar per pound.”
“A dollar per pound?” said the Chairman.
“Right.  For every pound of North Korean property we destroy, you pay us one dollar.  A five thousand pound truck is worth five thousand dollars.  A five hundred ton ship is worth a million.”
“Are you trying to screw with us?” shouted Hanley, finally losing his patience.  The Chairman grabbed his arm.
“Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s cheaper than the military could do it,” he said.  “I’ll get the plans drawn up and talk to the Secretary of Defence.  Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“Yeah,” I said.  “Get me some weapons.”



The South Korean port we pulled into was far from the DMZ, but it was still a madhouse.  There was activity all over, and everything they were doing seemed to play at least some part in fighting a war.
Technically, the two Koreas had been at war since 1950, having only been under a cease-fire until recently.  The civilian South Koreans might not be fighting for their lives just yet, but it was plain to see that they were thinking about it.
There was a small ship maintenance facility approved by the Navy to carry out modifications to our vessel.  Missiles provided to us came in the form of a pair of Armored Box Launchers that had been hastily stripped off the USS Missouri battleship museum in Pearl Harbor and flown to South Korea.  They had been placed inside open-top shipping containers and covered with tarps.
Each launcher opened like a clamshell to reveal four Tomahawk missiles.  They had been designed for attacking land or ship targets, and could carry a thousand pound warhead or submunitions for more than a thousand miles.  I was very glad to get them.
The launchers were old, but had been reasonably maintained by the museum.  A control interface system for the missiles had been found somewhere and set up in our CIC.  I hated to let the shipyard drill holes in my ship, but the wiring had to be run.  
That was not to say the ship didn’t have plenty of weapons to begin with.  My legitimate business that I hid my special activities behind was a military shipbuilding company.  Between that and money from various government sources, the vessel we based our work aboard was much more than met the eye.
It was named R.A. Heinlein, after a man who really hated Communists.  It was previously named Traveler, because we periodically liked to change things up to keep bad guys guessing.  It was an even 470 feet long and 50 feet wide.  Despite looking like a cargo ship, the dimensions had a little narrower length/width ratio than many cargo ships.  The superstructure was positioned aft of midships, with one cargo hold behind it and three ahead.  The bow and stern were somewhat more tapered than a usual cargo vessel, which decreased the drag of going through the water but reduced the space for carrying goods.  There was a crane on the stern that could service the aft cargo hold or swing out over the stern of the ship.  Ahead of the superstructure, a gantry crane was mounted on rails so it could move and take care of all three forward holds.  They were numbered one through four, fore to aft.
All in all, it looked like a regular cargo ship that had grandparents consisting of a research vessel and a speedboat.  I had had a fake company website set up to extol all the drawbacks as actual virtues, so anyone who thought the ship looked strange would just chalk it up to an eccentric business model.
While not published to the false company website, the propulsion system was also unusual.  It was powered by four turbine generators positioned around the ship to aid in balance and damage control.  They sent electrical power anywhere it was needed, mainly to two azimuth thrusters mounted beneath the stern.  They used propellers to move the ship, and they could swivel in a 360 degree circle to direct thrust however it was needed.  It increased the ship’s agility and acceleration by a lot. 
All strangeness aside, what really counted was hidden.  The holds all had domed covers, and concealed within the number one and number four holds were weapons that would shame a frigate.
Each hold contained one 5”/54 naval gun.  Number four also had a Rolling Airframe Missile launcher and a set of Harpoon missile launchers, while number one used a Mk 29 box launcher.  All the weapons were mounted on platforms at the top of the hold to position them at the level of the deck, leaving the bottom of the hold occupied with the guns’ magazines and whatever we could fit.
The containers with the ABLs inside them were placed against the front side of the bridge.  When we stripped off the tarps and elevated the launchers to firing position, they would point the missiles to either side of the ship.  If firing four missiles in one direction wasn’t enough, we could turn the ship around and fire the other four.
Tomahawk missiles had already been loaded inside the launchers when they arrived.  That was against all kinds of safety regulations, but a few rules could be broken during war. 
A Navy Commander who was in charge of the work approached me as the fitting of the ABLs neared completion.
“Mr. Canvas, I have a few things for you.  One, here is your Letter of Marque.”  He handed me an envelope.  Inside was a plain sheet of paper, authorizing Heinlein to be used in attacks on North Korean property.  It was signed by the President of the United States.
“As I understand it,” he said, “this is the first such letter the United States has issued since 1815.  You’ll notice, however, that this does not grant you the full privileges of a privateer.”  He smiled faintly.  “That would technically be a war crime according to the Paris Declaration of 1856.”
The Commander turned more serious and his voice dropped a level.  “I also need to tell you that you will be carrying nuclear weapons.”
Surprised, I demanded, “What are you talking about?”
“The number two and number three tubes on the port side launcher that was just installed contain Tomahawks that are equipped with nuclear warheads.  Just in case.”
“I’m flattered that you trust me with things like that, but I’d rather have regular ones.  This is stupid.”
He shrugged.  “Orders from the top.  I suppose the North Koreans using them made people nervous.  Don't worry, you won't be able to fire them without special permission anyway.  Just be careful with those things.”
Surprised and not at all pleased, I watched as the technicians finished all of the major installation and left the boat.  There were a few loose ends to tie up and some bolts to tighten, but we could do those underway.  I wanted to get out to sea as soon as possible.  If we had to fight a war, we might as well get it started in order to get it over with.
Since we were about to embark on our first war patrol, I decided to have a crew meeting.  Shep and Jeff, our helicopter pilot and mechanic respectively, were there, as well as Jones, our resident CIA agent.
The eight of us made up a relatively small crew with an extreme variety of backgrounds.  Jones, for example, had dropped out of medical school to be a secret agent.  She was reasonably good at either job, really.  Most of her CIA duty was keeping an eye on us, but she wasn’t above taking kickbacks for the jobs we did.
Shep was the old man of the crew, and had a skilled touch on the controls on his aircraft.  Jeff had worked with him before they joined up with us, and both were former Navy.
“All right everyone,” I said, “this is fundamentally different from anything we’ve ever done before.  We’re going to have to be as alert as possible because there are people out there who are actively trying to kill us.”
“How is that any different than normal?” asked Jones.  There were a few laughs.  I was glad to see we hadn’t fallen into a doom and gloom outlook just yet.
“We’re really not that suited to continued 24/7 operations.  We don’t have enough crew.  That also means that we don’t have the manpower necessary for real damage control, so we can’t afford to take unnecessary risks. Just remember, we’re getting paid either way.”
“The Navy could give us some people,” offered Shep.
“Not a bad idea, but I don’t know if they can spare any at the moment.  Might be worth following up on.”
“Mr. Hanley sent me the CIA dossier on the North Korean navy,” Hawker said, holding up a thick folder.  “This would probably be a good thing to study.”
“Other things that could happen,” I said, checking off on my hooves, “Attacks from shore guns and missiles, attacks from the air, mechanical failures, illness, and accidents.  Those last three are preventable, so maintain stuff, wash your hands, and be careful.”
I looked around.  “Anything else?”
Nobody said anything, so I figured the meeting was over.  It was just as well.  I’m terrible at motivational speeches.
We headed out to sea.  When you’re one ship versus a fleet, the ocean can seem very lonely.