As soon as the briefing finished, the six of us loaded into the helicopter, sliding the door shut and twisting the lock from the inside. The pilots in the cockpit seated themselves, flicking switches and pressing buttons to start up the electronics, all while a small tug hitched itself to the rear of the aircraft, pulling it along to the rain-and-sea drenched elevator where waves crashed continuously up against the ship's hull.
Two vertical buckle straps looped over my chest and shoulders, with a third crossing around my lower stomach that I clicked together manually after having slipped both hooves through the straps.
The others had followed suit, or already fastened themselves to the seat row backed against another in the center of the chopper with only a grid-patterned net separating the sides. On my side, where we had climbed in, I sat to the left of both Ashfall and Silver, with Silver in between, notably anxious and was very gently trembling, even after he'd fastened his belt.
"You going to be okay, Sil?" I glanced over, concerned for his sake.
The beige unicorn let out a shaky, deep breath, straightening his back in an attempt to cease the tremors. "Better to get this over with sooner than later, y'know?" He chuckled nervously.
"Just keep a death grip until your hooves hit the deck, don't worry about anything unless you start falling into the water. These pilots know what they're doing, they won't let that happen," said the sergeant, back to Silver's on the opposite side.
"Yes, Sarge," Silver exhaled again, forcing a lump down his throat.
The very instance as the chopper rolled out of the hangar, rain and wind battered the outer skin, creating a rather terrifying roar against the fuselage with the metal plating seemingly enhancing the noise to where shouting at the top of our lungs would be the only means of hearing one another.
A slight jolt shook the craft, and with a simple glance out the window, the light of the hangar gradually disappeared as the elevator raised the blackhawk up to the flight deck, where only a few crew members stood around. With a constant stream of rain running down the windows, it truly is a wonder how the pilots will be able to navigate the storm.
Even though the last known position of the Alder had been programmed into the flight navigation system, the chances of us reaching the ship—or finding it at all, knowing it may have since drifted elsewhere in the time since the distress call—were mediocre. If that were the case, we would have but no other viable option than to fly back and hope for the best.
With the aid of a second tug, just narrowly able to move against the winds, we moved off the elevator and into nearly the center of the flight deck. As soon as the vehicle had been unhitched by a deck worker, through fast-moving windshield wipers on the helicopter, a second operator signaled to the pilots, where they then started the rotors.
The high-pitched whine of the engines kicking to life hardly overcame the severity of the storm, soon followed by the whir of the rotors slicing through the air, only muffled by light insulation in the cabin between the plates and the visible skeleton. If it hadn't yet become a horrible fear of riding in this for Celestia knows how long, in a hurricane, and jump out of it later, it did now.
One other thing, as ordered by the sergeant, was to switch on the comms headsets on the outside of our helmets, protected by a moisture-wicking material to protect from damage and avoid frying our ears. The headset itself made up of a single speaker that fit into the crease of my ear comfortably, with a petite boom microphone that extended not but a hair past my muzzle, curving around just before my mouth.
A small button beneath the receiver allowed for an uncomplicated way of switching channels frequencies. The primary communications channel, as to be used by the six of us, warranted the control center on the Eclipse to listen in on our conversations as backup in the likely event that the operation may take a turn for the worse. As one precaution, with us we carried guns, albeit on safety—just in case.
The wheels steadily eased into the air, along with it, a very shaky beginning. Silver, out of reflex as the helicopter lurched left, gripped the net behind him, hoof over his head. His eyes shot wide open, respirating nearly out of his chest in fear as the aircraft fought back against the strong winds.
Thankfully, it seemed we had taken off at the right time, where the weaker squalls of Aquarius passed overhead and the gusts quelled enough to not force an unwanted ditching in the still-raging sea below the more distance was put between the Eclipse and us.
Inside the cabin, the only visible light were those of the controls in the cockpit, and the constant red flash of a beacon on the outside of the chopper. Even now, the lightning appeared to have ceased for the most part, shadowed by the fog of rainfall all around.
I checked over my weapon one last time before we would eventually reach the Alder, inspecting the chamber and barrel from the side without directly aiming at myself, minding the switch remained on safety as ordered.
The rifle itself had two extra attachments: a scope, and an extra grip handle in front of the magazine. The scope was equipped with an accuracy laser, and had multiple modes that could be switched to—including night vision, something that I assume will come in handy.
Looking over my shoulder, I noticed Anchorage with the transmitter placed on the edge of the seat between his legs, honed in on the device as he tinkered with the insides through a little opened door on top that his hoof just hardly fit through. Sunset Haze also watched, scrutinizing the device with the both of us putting trust in Anchorage that he won't make a single error while he made last-minute fixes.
"Ten minutes," addressed one of the pilots through comms, which the six of us heard clearly. "Storm's finally givin' us some leeway."
***
As soon as the doors on either side of the helicopter threw open, sliding against the side toward the rear, we were met with cold, pelting rain that blew through the now-opened space in which it forced the pilots to compensate for the added wind friction. Or was it less friction now that there was less surface of the chopper to stream around?
The sudden blast was intense enough to take one's breath away, as it did in my case, leaving me briefly gasping for air as if an airlock had blown out in space and the suction took all of the oxygen with it. Without the need of masks at this altitude, as we were not parachuting out, that would come to be an occasional problem on our way down.
A pair of thick ropes, one end secured to hooks from the cabin ceiling dropped from the side to just above the deck of the darkened vessel below where the blackhawk hovered. They blew almost directly sideways, in the direction of the wind, already making the effort more difficult than we had previously hoped.
However, as assured by the pilots, and even Sergeant Sunset, they would straighten out as we fast-rope down, as our overall weight in relative to the heavy gusts would cancel out somewhat, but we would still have to swing ourselves if necessary. The first two to rope down would secure the bottom ends to the ship itself, then release when all of us were down.
Just as I had predicted, too, Ashfall went first, along with Anchorage on the other side, carrying the transmitter in a sealed backpack the size of the device itself, where the two safely came down hind hooves-first on the waterlogged steel, only shielded by crashing waves through three large, rounded storage compartments where liquid contents—likely oil—were stored.
Next up would be Nightpath and Silver Edge. Like the sergeant, I remained last to ensure Silver reaches the bottom without an issue, doing so by securing a carabiner clip to a hook on his vest and patting it roughly twice, glancing up to fix on his gaze.
"Grab the rope on your way down to slow your fall. It'll be slippery, so hang on tight, alright?" I shouted above the engines, and the storm's and the sea's enormous roar all around.
Shakily and hesitantly, his gaze darting between my own and where the rope hung from behind clear helmet goggles, Silver responded with two nods, reaching up to take the rope with both hooves and finally jumping from the side, grasping it tightly on his way down, significantly slower than Ash and Anchorage had, with Nightpath already on the bottom.
Like I had done with Silver, I took the last carabiner and attached myself to it, tugging to make sure it had locked properly, and grasping the rope above my head, peeking over the edge of the chopper down at the deck where the four waited.
"After you, Lance Corporal!" the sergeant shouted, having already attached himself, preparing to drop when I did.
Looking back forward, I reached up my other hoof, practically hugging the rope while keeping my face strictly away to prevent a burn, only gently leaping from the side and falling toward the deck. Moments after my hooves hit the drenched deck, Sergeant Sunset landed rather roughly, rolling down along the floor and upright, where he immediately worked to unhook himself, as did I.
The adrenaline really pumped now. Not only had we just fast-roped simultaneously from a blackhawk suspended above a pitch-black ship in the middle of the night, but did just that whilst in an enormous cyclone against battering rain showers, and winds upwards of fifty knots—or quite nearly sixty miles per hour.
Granted all of us made the fifty-or-higher foot drop and escaped any injury, needless to say, I did not look forward to doing such again in the near future, or even beyond that, regardless of conditions.
With the additional downdraft produced by the chopper's rotors diminishing as it raised ropes and flew off back toward the closing-distance Eclipse, the sergeant raised his rifle across his chest and turned to us. "Marines, on me," he ordered, met with a funny look from Anchorage. "—and sailor."
***
In through a cabin hatch and into the shadowed corridors, bringing us down a short flight of stairs, we formed a tight group as we ventured inside. All but a few emergency lights in the halls remained without power. For how chaotic it sounded in the background of the distress call, now the place seemed like a ghost town, or a ghost ship in this case.
Sunset Haze led the pack, while Nightpath tailed it, keeping watch over our sixes with night vision's aid on his own rifle. Since landing on the ship, too, Silver calmed himself significantly, much to all of our satisfaction—Sunset's the most. Although we'd only just met, he seemed like the stallion to be set off by the slightest of mishaps on Silver's part.
All of that aside, our current task briefly shifted. We needed to find the Alder's crew as soon as possible, both for their sake and our own. Without engines or proper rudder control, I could feel the movement of the tanker on the furious seas as it rocked back and forth, bobbing over waves every few seconds.
It still struck me as odd that the ship hadn't moved much since its last known position on radar, though. That part made little sense, if any at all.
"Stairwell to the bridge should be just up ahead and to our left," Anchorage quietly said, though loud and clear in our earpieces.
From this point on, the sergeant allowed Anchorage to take the lead. Quite an unusual gesture, one that is surely beyond typical mission regulations. Then again, it may have been because Anchorage knew the layout of this ship from hull to antenna. He was weird like that.
He eventually allowed Sunset to take the lead once we reached our turn, where he held up a hoof in signal for the rest of us to halt, as we did, leaning up against the wall. He peeked carefully around the corner, later drawing out his gun, scanning around, before muttering, "Clear."
The sergeant continued cautiously into the corridor, keeping his weapon drawn most of the time while we followed him, and Night did just the same behind us. Yet still, the only noise to be heard was an echoing roar of the storm, even from near the center of the ship.
From his right, a figure lurched out, grabbing him suddenly and pressing the barrel of a pistol against his temple, shouting in what I made out to be a Griffish accent. "Don't move!"
Myself including the others jumped with surprise, raising our guns to aim at him, although he held Sergeant Sunset in front of him as a body shield, a hoof around his neck but not squeezing, rather holding him in place and having tossed his weapon off to the side. Only moments later did many other ponies appear, armed to the teeth, focusing on us instead and creating an uneasy standoff.
"Who the hell are you?" another pony asked, standing ahead of the pack. Judging by the clothes they wore, they were sailors, too, albeit non-military ones.
Standing nearly statue-still, Sunset spoke up in response, "Lunar Marines. We've come to help, we want no trouble."
The gaze of the stallion holding him shifted. "How can we be for certain that you aren't here to kill us all and steal our petrol?"
"Tell me, then, you seem too much alike the kind of pony to speak before he thinks. If we are Equestrian-based ponies, what sense does it make to storm a non-threatening trading ship headed to our own shores? I've got all day," Ashfall remarked sarcastically.
"Listen, do you want this transmitter or not?" Anchorage strode forward, holding the device in one hoof after having plucked it out of his backpack. "This will restore your beacon on radar, so our ships can keep close watch over you until we are out of this hurricane."
"Well, sir, in case it ain't already clear to you, we've got no power. No power means no engines."
"Actually, no engines means no power. But, by all means, continue to tell me just how much you know about your own ship," Anchorage retorted, his tone hardened with sarcasm in the second sentence and brought a brief, faint grin out of Ash.
"Do you think this is a joke?! I will not hesitate to pull this trigger—"
"That's enough, let him go," addressed a deeper voice from behind, grabbing every pony's attention.
Weapons on their side lowered, and that one pony shoved Sunset away a couple feet. He took a few steps over to his gun and picked it back up, returning to us as the crew made room for a grizzled, bearded stallion. "Now, might somepony here explain just what all of this fuss is about?"
The sergeant gave a single, respectful head bow, coming closer steadily with his gun hanging around his neck. "I may, Captain. I apologize on behalf of myself and my unit, our entrance was quite unannounced. Though, sir, I can assure you that we have only come to your aid."
Head bobbing in a firm nod, the Alder's captain let out a deep, relieved sigh. "Thank the heavens. I was for certain no one would hear our distress call. I am afraid that without our engines running, we have had no means of controlling the ship whatsoever. Thank you for coming."
"Our pleasure, Captain," the sergeant replied, nodding once in return.
"Allow me to show you to the bridge, Sergeant, where you can set up your transmitter. I shall ensure not one of my crew will stand in the way of your work from here on out," said the captain, who tossed a glare of daggers at those behind him, then motioning his head. "Come along."
***
Sliding a messy pile of paper out of the way, Anchorage placed the transmitter carefully on a desk in the center of the bridge, and began pressing button after button, ending with a twist of a knob that switched the device on.
"All right, there we go. Shouldn't take too long to get the signal going, then we will be set. It won't last long on batteries, though, maybe an hour or so. 'Til then, jumpstarting the turbines should be our top priority for the time being."
Snorting, one of the crew members tossed a look in his direction. "This ship is too old, she probably gave her last huff and quit. Bitch loves to screw us over from time to time, leave us stranded. This ain't anythin' new."
"If that is one hundred-percent the case, how, exactly, do you get her going again?" Anchorage irritably asked, returning a miffed glance.
"Well," the stallion paused momentarily. "She usually just sorta... comes back on her own."
"How long does that usually take?"
"'Bout a half hour."
"Aaaaand, how long has it been now?"
The stallion rolled up one of his sleeves, checking his watch. "Couple hours."
"So, the storm has knocked something ajar, maybe a few wires, or there is a worse problem on our hooves," Anchorage said as he continued to tinker with the signal transmitter. "What ever it may be, I am certain that there is a fix, and I will find it. That's why I brought my tools," he gestured toward a small blue toolbox on the floor beside his legs.
"Thank you once more for coming out here, soldiers," the captain said, observing the pegasus' work. "We cannot be more grateful."
"Again, Captain, it is our duty to protect and serve, and help those wherever needed," Sunset nodded. "And, we are Marines."
Once more, Anchorage glanced an eye back without turning his head. "And a sailor," he added.
"My apologies. I have not before seen such uniforms alike each other. That is what I find most bewildering about Equestria's armed forces. While your uniforms surely state which branch you may be a part of, from afar, one cannot tell two apart."
"That's understandable," Ash nodded. "Marines used to be tan a few years ago, before Princess Luna came back."
"And the Navy used to be without camouflage," Anchorage added further. "He's right, it can be confusing."
"My son-in-law once served in the Griffish Royal Air Force," the ship captain began. "Decades ago, the military once shared their attire, unified under the former United Griffish Isles Armed Forces, which have since parted ways, and individual forces received their official titles."
"Like how Equestria's original primary defense was the Royal Guard, which later became more of a law enforcement chain around your capital of Canterlot, the military has evolved as quickly as technological advancements in weaponry did. Although, there is a diversion point between the two," the captain explained, scratching his beard afterward.
"Well, under the Lunar Navy and Marines, we share darker shades, as designated by her royal highness, to share something in common with her Guard branch," I said.
"Hmm," the captain pondered. "Why the differences between Celestia's Guard and her military, then?"
"Because they are not related. Celestia's Guard and the Equestrian Army and Air Force do not associate with one another. While Luna holds power over our branches, Celestia shares with Luna, and vice versa," I explained.
"This is done so the sisters have equal power, and since Princess Twilight rose as a third power in Equestria, we may take orders from her, as well, but only with their approval among other more important reasons."
Once more, the captain scratched his chin, pondering. "I suppose this puts the rest of the pieces in place."
"Aha, there we go!" Anchorage said, sliding the transmitter to the top of the desk for a better position. "Signal's live, should be visible to other nearby ships now."
Through comms, a sailor from the Eclipse patched through. "Copy that, radar contact restored. Good work."
Picking up his toolbox, Anchorage opened it, placing a screwdriver inside. "As I said before, the batteries will not last longer than an hour. We have this window to figure out what's wrong with the engines."
"Allow me, I will show you the way to the engine room," the captain began heading for the doorway.
Stepping in front of him, Sunset shook his head. "I will need for you to remain on the bridge, sir. You, and your crew mates. Lance Corporal Nightpath will stay by your side, just in case."
Furrowing an eyebrow, the bearded stallion cocked his head. "I am confused, Sergeant?"
Taking a spare walkie-talkie out of a belt holster, Sunset twisted a knob on the side twice, where faint crackling came through the speaker. "We will stay in contact through this. Keep it on you at all times, no matter where you go, give us updates on what to look for and if anything happens."
The captain examined the hoofheld radio for a moment, then took it and nodded. "Will do. I presume you already know where to go?"
Off to his right, a grin cracked on Anchorage's muzzle, followed by a firm nod. "Ships are my lifelong passion, Captain. There ain't a ship on any sea that I do not know the interior layout to."
The stallion returned a nod. "I trust your judgement. Be safe, all of you, and be hasty."
***
All of us—minus Nightpath, of course, who remained on the bridge with the captain and some of the crew—made our way out of the bridge control room and down multiple flights of steep staircases, deeper into the pitch-black ship with only enhancements on our guns, our wits, and Anchorage directing us.
Without the threat of being ambushed by frightened crew workers, that ticked one concern off the list while we continued to sneak around, and left some assurance that we would not have to waste magazines on noncomplying ponies.
While I walked ahead, as told by the sergeant prior, suddenly, my hoof stepped down into a warm fluid, almost too thick to be water. It sent a shock throughout my body, and I let out a surprised shriek. "Gah!"
I leaped into the air with a single flap of my wings, only for them to immediately snap to my sides, with me landing on my rear rather harshly and falling flat on my back a moment later, forcing a pained grunt out. My teeth clenched, as did my eyelids, while I remained on the floor for a few seconds longer until I rolled over and pressed myself back up.
"What was that?" Ash blinked, standing a few feet behind with Silver, Anchorage, and Sergeant Sunset, whom all had their collective gazes fixed on me.
Would I not be delighted to know myself? Shrugging off the jump scare, I ripped open a pouch flap on my vest and brought out a flashlight, turning it on with a click. What now sat before my very gaze struck me like an oncoming train with a more-terrified type of shock.
Eyes growing wide, Silver began taking steps back, before falling back on his rump and breathing heavily. Ash, Anchorage, and Sunset all stared in horror. Neither of us seemed to be able to remove our eyes from the traumatic sight.
Pools of red fluid dotted the floor in an uneven line leading down to the end of the hall, with smaller drips along the side. Most of the puddles had streaks trailing and gradually fading the further they went. Above all, the closer I came to one of the collections of blood, the most notable marking left behind were those of paw prints and some claws.
Speaking into the comms channel to report the finding, the sergeant stuttered a bit. Even he was almost too shocked. "Captain, we—we've got... blood. Pools of blood. Hall 2E, lower level."
The conclusion came long sooner than my ability to even speak as I wrenched a blocking mass down my throat, where my voice ultimately returned. "Griffons..." I grunted quietly, wiping off my hoof across the floor, only leaving streaks in its wake.
"P-pirates?!" Silver shuddered out, gripping the gun in both hooves steadier than prior as he rose from the floor.
What made even less sense about that statement is just how would unsophisticated Griffonian pirates be able to board a ship—much less one that cannot be easily visually spotted—in these seas? More so, their entrance strictly would not have gone unnoticed by even a crew member. This was something else.
"Where are the bodies, then?" Ash questioned, one of his ears pinning slightly, walking up to my side, his hooves inches from the edge of another slough in a near-perfect circular shape, aside from the visible streaks left behind. "They look like they were dragged away, or something."
"That's what I would like to know, too," I responded, raising the flashlight's beam to project it across the collection of red puddles among the random prints scattered about.
Straightening his posture, Sergeant Sunset flicked the safety knob on his rifle. "Let's keep moving, but turn your safeties off. Stay frosty."
Doing as ordered, now without our triggers locked and the uneasy feeling that we were suddenly not alone, we carefully continued around the bloody mess. Even in the highly-unlikely event that this is some type of prank on behalf of the crew, man, was it a shitty one.
***
As it turned out, the Alder, for some strange reason, had two separate engine rooms—one on either side of the vessel—and forcing us to split up, much to all of our dismay. Anchorage and Silver accompanied the sergeant, while myself and Ashfall went to the port side room, navigating the pitch-black halls.
The overall atmosphere around was enough to send chills up a pony's spine, as it did with me more than once in a span of just a few minutes. Had I not been decked out with gear, my coat would be standing straight up, like a cat who's seen a ghost on Nightmare Night.
Ash came to a halt at a corner, where in that hall, faint light shone into it emanating from the place we wanted to be. Evidently the generators kept the room just bright enough to work in, as noted while we hurried inside.
I raised a hoof up to the side of my earpiece, speaking into the little microphone stick. "All right, we're here. What do you need us to do?"
"One second," Anchorage responded through both of our headsets, either just reaching the engine room on their side of the ship, or nearly there. "Okay, what's everything look like?"
I glanced around briefly, examining primarily the massive pistons that stuck through the wall and out to the ship's propellers, and Ashfall responded. "What do you think it looks like? A damn engine room!"
"Don't be a smart ass. What do you see?"
"Pistons, pipes, some compressors it looks like," I replied, moving down the side of the massive horizontal steel pole, ducking beneath it to slip to the other side. "Another generator, too."
"Yeah, that is not for emergencies though. That's the main power system. Do you see any lights on it?"
"Yes, but... they're off," I said, walking up to it, scanning over the front face of the generator-like object, then to a lock on the latch to get inside. "We need a key to open it."
"You should have one, it's called your gun," Sergeant Sunset chimed in.
"No, don't shoot it! You could unintentionally damage it. We'll find another way. Uh, give me one minute."
"Well, damn it, hurry it up," I grumbled, not through the comms channel, turning and looking back along the wall opposite of the pistons, before freezing. Ashfall had already done the exact same, and we both stood perfectly still as if we were both statues.
"Uh, Anchorage?" Ash called through open mic, neglecting to realize the Eclipse could hear us, too.
"What is it, Ash?" he snarkily returned.
"W-we've got... charges... in the engine room. They're everywhere."
A silence followed, but was brief.
"Charges? How many?" Sunset hurriedly responded.
"At least ten, maybe more," I called in from further across the room, near the corner, closely examining two of the small black-cased explosives placed carefully along hull beams with multiple wires connecting between them, the lights silently blinking red every couple of seconds. "They're hot, too."