"Bloody hell, it's them."
Tension rose in the room immediately when Shadow vocalized his reaction to the transmission patching through our communications frequency. The expression he wore told that he was familiar with the accent. Now the undetected submarine made much more sense after the fact.
He reached to grab his binoculars and proceeded to scan the horizon. Surely enough, there in the far distance sat hazy silhouettes of multiple ships with their afts pointed in our direction. Spotting them brought an incoherent mutter out of him as well as a grimacing look, shifting his focus then to the wake stream of the submarine, which had dipped back beneath the surface and out of our sight.
Shadow snatched up the receiver for the VHF and, without any hesitation and by normal procedure, returned the call with his own dour address. "This is the L.R.S. Eclipse. State your route and your purpose in our immediate vicinity."
Like the instance where the hostile boats trailed behind the ship many months back, and as with any similar condition, it is within the jurisdiction of any and all naval ships to provide warning if an unknown vessel is on any sort of direct path toward them, whether that vessel be civilian or military.
For some time, he stood by for a response. It soon came a few minutes later, but with a completely different voice speaking. This time, it had an eastern prominence to it. "Eclipse, that is a name I have not heard in some time. Our mission is classified to all but ourselves. Perhaps you would fair better to state yours while it is within our locality."
Shadow's eyes darted to the speaker built into the top of his control dash, recognizing this particular voice. He lifted the receiver to reply. "Admiral, I give you my word that we are out here on a patrol cruise, nothing more. Dull your tone."
"Patrol cruises do not involve the entirety of your fleet, Captain. We will not take kindly to this deceit, and take my word when I say, we will not back down from a fight should the time call for it, as such with your presence near our shores."
Shadow exhaled a gravelly mumble, visibly piqued. "We are not near your shores, Admiral. You are inexcusably threatening a navy of four destroyers, two cruisers, an aircraft carrier and thousands of Equestrian sailors. I highly recommend you stand down at once, for we pose no current danger to you or your fleet. However, we will not alter our course for your sake, and I personally do not welcome your behavior," he countered, not willing to withdraw just yet.
"Understood. We shall consider this an act of aggression toward our ponies, Eclipse. Failure of compliance is a deadly game you prove you are willing to play, especially if such can be circumvented in a civilized approach."
This managed to successfully infuriate Shadow, now resorting to raising his voice in aggravation to convey his disposition. "I recall such as an act of aggression, scraping my ship with your submarine, endangering my crew as well as your own! Should I rightfully remind you that we are both sailing in international waters, beyond the borders of any established country's territory? We are not in your path; you are in ours. I will say this once, and once alone. You will redirect your course, and should you come within one hundred yards of my ship, we will not hesitate to engage!"
After that, the channel went abruptly silent. Nothing, not even static or feedback. Shadow took this as a sign of defeat and hung up his receiver, taking his binoculars again for another glance. He remained this way for a few minutes, before the distant ships began a long and wide turn to their right, preemptively removing themselves from a collision course.
"That's what I thought..." Shadow mumbled, an edge added to his otherwise flat voice. He lowered his binoculars, keeping his gaze centered in that general bearing. "Bastards think they can give the orders around here. We may not outnumber them, although, we would only need two of our destroyers to wipe them all out before they have the chance to fire anything. Not so sure about the sub."
Unnerved by both the jolt and the radio discharge, cleaning up part of the mess caused by the collision, Sea Watch glanced up to look at the captain. "What about it, sir?"
"That submarine of theirs has first strike capabilities and is virtually undetectable in most aspects, even with our gadgets, so visual contact is our chief alternative of tracking it for the time being. Frankly, with its firepower, it could wipe us all out if that is what they are waiting to do. That is why we must remain attentive at all times in case of any uptick. But, I expect that should not be of much complication. I'll call up secondary watch early, and I presume Senior Chief Tacimo is already on his way up here."
Before anything else could be said, he picked up the intercom speaker, holding it there in his hoof in contemplation. Shadow's unwavering poker face set directed out the forward windshield, as if watching over his ship. After a few seconds, he raised the wire-attached device to his muzzle, pressing down on the speaker button.
"All aboard Eclipse, this is the captain. We are going to alert condition three. Be alert at all times and await instructions in case we must upgrade status. Repeat, we are going to alert condition three."
The three rest of us present individually exchanged glances, each expressing our own concern silently with one another while the greenish-grey captain pressed his forehooves along the table surface, leaning over it and gawking out over the horizon vigilantly, like a hawk on a high branch.
Placid seas stretched on for miles upon, touched with the faintest of wrinkles. Yet, hidden beneath the surface, they were cold and churning with deferred malice, lurking and monitoring our every move while it sat dormant, camouflaged eerily by the blue dark, rancorously scheming for the perfect moment.
That evening, I lay in my rack, alone in the compartment. Due to the shift changes, I now find myself in a routine where Nightpath and Ashfall finish up their days far later than I do and thus lonely for that time. My rotation came almost an hour ago, and I went straight to eat after a day of no food or, frankly, any proper breaks.
At dinner, I scarcely ate anything. Out of the roasted two potatoes, carrots, as well as a bowl of macaroni and cheese, only maybe a quarter of that made it down, as if the appetite I had while collecting my tray and sitting down had sliced itself in half on the second bite I took. The tension in the air prevented me from scarfing down a full meal with butterflies filling in the empty space before I could. In turn, any further attempt was met with gagging and moderate sickness. Thankfully, nothing came back up, though I had decided right then and there that I could not eat any longer.
Thus, here I lay, staring up at the shallow ceiling separating my bed from the one above. Drowsiness riddled my eyeballs with vague bloodshot while I blinked slowly, too deep in thought to doze off, and far too shaken from earlier as noted by the faint trembling my hooves continued to bear.
I knew the risk stood out, and quite honestly it was only fair that something had to happen yet again for the third time in a row. After the incident with the submarine, every sailor held a decent understanding of the present affairs and, in turn, everybody was alert for that looming possibility; an overbearing, frightening sense that those other ships may besiege abruptly if our guard is dropped for one measly minute. As a result, this stress mounted arduously and left no pony untouched.
Shadow's words from earlier rang in my head like an obnoxious bell, a reminder that falling asleep could end disastrously for me. Damn my oversensitive head for carelessly burdening me with this pressure that roused an unyielding, throbbing migraine which only drove sleep further from reach.
The safety of home could not have sounded better in that instance. In fact I dreamt of it significantly more than ever. Though I knew that would not happen. Not for four more weeks, unless something took place where we absolutely need to make port, either in Equestria or somewhere remotely close by. I am positive no one hopes for such for everyone's well being.
For a while I tossed and turned, hoping to find a comfortable spot to settle in. Minus the sweat drenching it, this was like the night before going out to the ship. The heat my body typically emit enhanced by the state I was in warmed my rack to the point where laying in it had become virtually insufferable. These ships always had poor air circulation, which is why some compartments have portable fans positioned in corners to produce some flow. Berthing compartments were by far the worst, particularly due to their size.
Like most nights, all I had on was a blue t-shirt that I wore under my uniform. For its material, it was fairly light. I contemplated stripping it off, however, to see if it might foster any sort of contrast in body temperature and put an end to my restlessness. After some time, I simply gave in and slid out of my rack carefully, head lowered to avoid smacking it on the ceiling between my own and the one above.
I took my jacket and threw it on, sliding the buttons through their holes without fumbling. Ten months of following this routine every day makes a huge difference. Around this time a year ago, when I first arrived at boot camp, it took me upwards of fifty seconds to put on a blouse, now it takes roughly ten seconds for the same task. I suppose wear on the material also comes into play, which would make getting ready for the day significantly easier and faster.
The watertight door momentarily screeched when I yanked it ajar, flooding light from the passageway in shape of the round-edged frame into the floor space between racks. This made me squint for a moment after having been long adjusted to the darkness of the room, before I stepped out over the steel lip, scanning the corridor in either direction it stretched.
Strolling toward the aft, I pondered silently. Perhaps hearing Ray's voice could alleviate some of the stress sagging my mind, like a ball and chain dragging behind a prisoner was my best way of describing it.
I veered into a short corridor that looped directly into the room where an array of simple computer monitors sat on long tables pressed against one another. The only light in there were the computer screens themselves, and most were idle from not being used. It came off as odd to me, finding myself to be the only pony present. Normally all hours of the day and night, there are quite a few in here making attempts to communicate with back home. Tonight was not the case.
The current alert level of the ship having everypony on edge registered to me as the probable cause behind the peculiar absence of homesick sailors. Nevertheless, I had the room to myself without the worry of somepony eavesdropping. Even though Silver knows what's up, I would prefer it remains that way concerning randoms who wander past when coming or going and might glance over my shoulder. Not that I expect anypony to, since that is just plain nosy.
Descending onto a chair in front of a vacant computer, I put a pair of headphones on my ears and pulled the microphone down to mouth level. Looking up at the monitor, now having logged in to Whynnie, hesitation halted my hoof from tapping the 'call' button on the screen, instead hovering the arrow cursor in a circle around it slowly. My lips pursed into a thin frown as a multitude of questions rushed through my head.
What am I going to tell him? What could I tell him? I can't just sit here, fake a smile, and lie to him. Everything is okay, but it isn't okay. But I can't panic him. What if something happens to me tomorrow? What if he finds out elsewhere and can't get ahold of me?
I inhaled deeply, releasing the breath softly. Just when I went to begin the call, a small window popped up in center of the screen. Beside an image of a prohibiting X symbol read in bold lettering, "Ray Blitz is not available at this time."
That answers that question, I suppose. A rather tender response to it and one I had not considered, though it turned out I had no other choice than to go along with it. Assuming he is home in Ponyville and not traveling for work purposes, it was still around mid or late afternoon in most parts. When I last took a peek out the porthole in my compartment, the sun had not yet fully disappeared below the horizon from where we were at sea, and the western sky continued to dance with oranges, yellows, and pinks with fading blues and greys the further east they spanned, fading ever so gradually as night fell.
With an aching tinge in my chest, I logged off the computer and reluctantly got up, leaving and walking without hurry in my pace back to my berthing. Atop the stress and worry of what could happen, my body ultimately plagued with exhaustion. It was too many conflicting emotions to deal with occurring at one time, disbanding any desire to distract myself from the circumstances occurring around me other than to forcibly call it a night and make a second wavering attempt to catch some rest.
***
I blinked apathetically, mouth parting for a hefty yet silent yawn that followed. A light water formed in my ducts and forced a few swift flutters of my lids to disperse the excess tears, all while closely surveying the washing machine as it rocked back and forth, vibrating rapidly while I waited for it to finish its cycle.
Apart from cleaning days, the laundromat existed as one of the limited spots outside of our berthings where anypony is granted to be out of uniform at any time. I was grateful for the exception, for what clothes I had worn on the walk over now noisily tumbled around the washer.
For that instance, I went without clothes, essentially forcing me to wait until they were clean. At least at home I could get away with passing the time elsewhere without needing a uniform or, really, any kind of clothing; I swear, one of the biggest peeves of mine on these blasted deployments. If it isn't one thing, it is most certainly the other. Always a contrary.
Free to anyone's use, plastic containers of detergent were provided and constantly kept in stock. To the dismay of a copious many, it was only one specific brand. From time to time, someone would vocalize their annoyance, usually to themselves whenever they drop by to do their laundry manually with one of the five washers and five dryers lined on opposite sides of each other.
I did not have any special predilection regarding it. They were all the same virtually, just with different labels from various companies. Same goes for dishwasher tabs and whatnot, repeatedly an identical outcome. I tend to go for whatever is cheaper, I guess. Perhaps I am that fortunate to have not ever faced poor experiences in that matter to where preference isn't an issue.
The intense vibrating and rocking motions of the washer soon ceased, followed by an audible click of the lid's lock and a rather obnoxious buzzing tone that signaled the end of the cycle, by which I could transfer my clothes over to the dryer at last. Nothing more than a one-minute task, but the beginning of another hour-long wait.
Two uneasy weeks went by with no irregularities. Well, none, excluding one or two incursions and near-misses where one of the Ajerstanian cruisers purposely turned into our path and came within a hundred feet of a collision, by which we would have blindsided them accidentally had the circumstances been different. It pissed off Shadow to no end to where he would constantly attempt contact with their fleet admiral, only to be met with silence. The bastards probably all chuckled whenever he would, knowing their sneaky asses.
Additionally, constant reports were being transmitted to the head of command, and the head of naval operations, but more prominently—the princesses. After all, it is our obligation to relay occurrences such as these to them. If we ever find ourselves in a time of war, communication is key. It's their orders we follow; where to go, what for, what to attack, and who. Officers like Shadow may give counter injunctions, though it is at his expense for insubordination no matter the outcome. It just depends on how well or poorly the consequences turn out. Despite his title as commanding officer of the Eclipse, he nevertheless is nowhere near the top of the chain of command, not counting the royalty that runs Equestria.
Though, there are exceptions. For instance, should the Ajerstanians follow through with their threats and launch an attack or attempt to board (which even I knew was extremely far-fetched), he may ultimately determine to engage with the support of our accompanying escort ships within a tight-knit distance. Shadow is right, though; it would only take two of our ships to wipe them all out. It is, however, the submarine that we have to be most concerned about, even if their instruments are not nearly adequate against what we possessed.
I ceased zoning out after some time when my ears caught on to a set of hooves neared from a small adjacent room, along with a short exchange of greeting from the stallion looking over the laundromat. Hauling in a basket with ease across her back, a familiar sailor mare whose fur was white as the capped peaks of Mount Canter and had her gold-red stripe mane up in a bun trotted in. I recognized her immediately as the same pony from the second pre-deployment briefing.
Shifting my stance a bit to make room for her in the narrow space, she rolled up to a separate vacant machine and dropped her basket, full of an assortment of uniforms and leisure wear, such as hoodies and t-shirts.
Unless spoken to or looking to ask a question, Lemoore was known among our circle as a particularly quiet mare nonetheless. A prime example of a sailor, nearly up to par with Anchorage. Hell, she could have been his female opposite. Never thought I would see the day where I can admit that.
With her line of work, Lemoore never has much more than a minute or two to chat with anyone. Especially on her way in here, I noticed she was in somewhat of a hurry to load her laundry. Although, that is how she can be. The mare has quite a pace to her which, against what a couple of our fellow crew mates find as mildly unnatural, she considers it her average speed of working. Having known of a few other mares not too dissimilar than her, both within and beyond the military, I shrugged it off.
She threw open the washer lid and started throwing her clothes in a couple at a time, but with that outmatching speed to where her basket was empty in less than sixty seconds. I chose against watching from the corner of my eye, fixated on the dryer in front of me. "Morning," I said tiredly, with enough volume for her to hear above the noise.
Her eyes darted over for a split second while she unscrewed the bottle cap of some detergent, sprinkling the bluish-tinted powder into the barrel atop her laundry. "Good morning, Shooter."
"Anything new?" I questioned in a poised, cordial tone, focusing ahead of me without once looking in her direction. A bit of small talk couldn't hurt to pass the time, I thought, assuming I don't somehow screw up and creep her out. Seeing as we were both part of bridge crew and hadn't conversed in any casual talk, this was just bound to become awkward.
"That depends. New in my life, or new in general?" she countered amiably. Didn't expect a return question, that clever mare.
"Whichever, I won't pry." I assured her, quelling another small yawn afterward. Damn my lack of sleep to hell.
"I would say life is fairly decent, thank you. The hubby's seeing his mother, so, he's managing to keep himself occupied while I am away," she replied. A benign smile crossed her muzzle, the result of what I presumed to be a picture of her family back home popping into her head.
"Didn't know you were married," I noted, chuckling transiently. Always learning something about your fellow pony, Star.
"Gotta wrench the single stallions off one way or another," Lemoore remarked with an accompanying grin, slamming the washer lid closed and twisting a couple of knobs to start it.
She isn't wrong. Seafaring sailors underway for weeks, sometimes months at a time tend to get a little... lecherous, which can lead to one or two ponies landing in a heap of trouble. "I don't blame you, not one bit. The ship's no place for that."
"I concur," she nodded, letting off a heavy but contented exhale while continuing, "What can I say, though? Testosterone's through the flight deck by week three. They're all starting to get desperate for some fun."
"Right." I simpered, chuckling in casual agreement. "Stallions."
That garnered an eccentric glimpse from the mare as the washer she occupied started to hiss, spraying inside with water and steadily churning at first. "What does that make you, then?"
"I don't share their tendencies, Petty Officer," I defended, hoping the use of her rank might diminish the sudden antipathy and quite possibly also a big mistake. "I'm not trying to take advantage of you for who you are."
"Okay, okay. I get you, Shooter," she gestured for me to tone down a bit, rejoining with, "I would hope not, anyway," before she returned her attention to the washer as it picked up speed. "We are preparing to deploy the AEW squadron," Lemoore mentioned after a minute of perturbed silence.
My cores grew moderately wider, blinking twice and ears perking attentively at her continuance. I felt the tension return in the form of a tightening gut. "When?"
"Some time this evening, after dusk. Less conspicuous under the cover of night." She threw a brief glance in my direction. From it I noticed her own vivid concern on the matter.
"I know we are keeping a lead on them, but..."
"I had a sneaking suspicion that they were coming along for a reason," Lemoore glowered, tersely interrupting. "That senior chief lied to us. You could see it on the captain's expression. He was giving that 'what the hell are you doing' look. Don't tell me you missed it?"
My head shook in response. "Actually, I cannot think of anypony present who didn't catch it. Something about that stallion feels off, I can't quite put my hoof on it."
"He's a strange one, that stallion," she shrugged dismissively. "Don't know where the captain found him."
"They are friends, apparently. Or acquaintances. Doesn't mean I am too fond of him. Hell, any time he opens his mouth I consider leaping out the windshield, or if he so much as breathes in my direction!" The truth was out. Hopefully no one nearby overheard and was on their way to report me. I knew she wouldn't judging by the brief nicker she gave.
"But, he acts his rank, that's old news. He owns that authority. Does not mean I agree with his decision to blatantly lie to our faces," I continued, waving my hoof.
Lemoore snorted. "Well, if the captain were smart, he would have stepped in and told the truth."
"He wasn't about to betray him like that. If they are as good of friends as I believe they are, and assuming he enjoys to disagree, Tacimo won't take lightly to it if that happened. Shadow isn't about to lose his boatswain. Not saying I don't see where you are coming from, though."
The snow-white mare cocked her head, ear flicking. "By the way, what ever happened to his old second-up? Wasn't he a Marine?"
"Yeah, he was..." I mulled, nodding. For a moment in my mind, the eerie image of Arc's glowing cores in the dark of that hallway flashed back.
Lemoore further tilted her head sideways in further bewilderment. "It isn't my business, but..." Oh, here we go. "...why would he appoint a Marine such a status on a ship? They merely sit around and do nothing! No offense to you."
I smiled sincerely. "None taken." Whew. "I don't think that is how it actually worked. More than him and the senior chief, Captain Shadow and Second Lieutenant Arc Nobis were close friends. Because Arc was reassigned to shore-side, it was decided that he can come along for deployments, so... I suppose it just happened. Maybe they both meant Marine second-up instead."
"Why was he reassigned? Do you know?" Lemoore seemed genuinely curious now.
I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I do not. That is all I've been told."
"Huh, peculiar." She shrugged, looking back at the washer. "Oh well. None of my business." I nodded in agreement.
Shortly afterward, the conversation died down, where we then focused on our laundry while we waited for them to finish. Her mentioning it had me also mentally questioning why Arc had been transferred. Not that it mattered much at this point, since he has been under house arrest and seeing a psychologist for some time now.
***
Boredly, the dark draft stallion bounced a little blue stress ball off the reinforcement bulkhead adjacent to his dashboard. Without much to be done and everything supposedly running smoothly from his end, occasionally he would kick back and play catch with himself in an attempt to entertain himself, although it eventually became monotonous and fairly exhausting. Yawns escaped Night's widely-parted maw every so often, smacking and licking his lips to wet them down. He downed gulps of water from his bottle made of stainless steel, having to keep hydrated while in Engineering.
Air conditioning was considered a luxury in this section of the ship, added to the fact that heat from the reactor powering the Eclipse radiated and collected in the individual compartments surrounding it. Thankfully, however, temperatures did not exceed tolerable numbers, but he and everypony else he worked with knew water is a must at all times of the day to combat the hot and sticky conditions.
When Night chose his nuclear engineering rate in the Marines, frankly the last thing he anticipated was to be put on a ship. He did not expect to have sailors for coworkers who have chosen the Navy-equivalent of that exact rate. He never put much mind into it, seeing as everypony usually kept their blouses off or tied around their barrels to beat the compartment's tenacious warmth.
As far as he was concerned, they were one in the same, sharing the ship as their sailing base and it was their job to ensure every working piece of machinery performs as it was built to. Sometimes for this he is among the many nicknamed as 'greasers', or the ponies who wake up every morning to have grime and grease slick their manes, hooves, and clothes.
While he sat in monotony, suddenly, an alert from the computer monitor at his station jolted him upright. His sky-blue irides instantaneously glued to the screen to read the issue that had popped up in the form of an error window that flashed prominently in alternating reds and yellows, blinking once or twice to assert he wasn't hallucinating. As he had been trained for, Night tapped a few buttons to work out the issue. But its outcome took a turn that pursed his mouth into a frown of mild annoyance mixed with concern.
Without delay, he turned straight to his boss, who was just returning from a quick run to the compartment over. "We've got a loss of pressure in the coolant loop," Night declared to snatch his attention.
The stallion, an orchid unicorn with the rank of chief petty officer, made his way over to Night's post. "Well, switch it to backup."
"I did, sir, no effect," Night responded, not once removing his gaze from his computer screen. What he was seeing had him in minor disbelief. "Reactor pressure is dropping, temperature starting to rise, and steam pressure increasing."
Just then, a second wailing alarm sounded. This wail had a slightly deeper tone than the one preceding it, and it originated somewhere other than his computer. It was one that stood both of their ears up straight. Behind them, one crew member called, "Low pressure turbine exceeding RPM!"
"Switch to the high gear turbine!" ordered the chief, right as others scrambled to work on the situation. The alarm silenced to just a flashing light along the sides of the room, illuminating the windowless space with intermittent red.
Levers, buttons, and switches were thrown and pressed. As an expected result of the actions, one turbine kicked on in replacement of the other. Watching the change from his computer screen, Nightpath glowered with worry and frustration. "Steam pressure is still on the rise. Reactor temperature is reading at 650 degrees and still climbing!" he exclaimed.
The unicorn chief grunted in irritation, questioning and pondering solutions rapidly before making a sudden judgement, "Scram the reactor and ready the backup, we are going to switch over to that."
From a nearby control console, an earth pony petty officer chimed in. "That is only half the solution, Chief, we still need to cool the primary. That is top priority if we are to prevent a meltdown."
Problems simply kept rising, along with the temperature in the compartment. More than ever did the sailors and Marine sweat in one instance than for an entire day's worth. "Then we should find the leak, shouldn't we? Run an integrity scan."
Night nodded comprehensively and began typing away on his keyboard. He frequently tossed a hoof up to his forehead to wipe off a fresh slick of nervous and temperature-induced sweat that re-collected in between those few moments while he waited tensely for the data to return. These scans were relatively fast and, for the most part, completely accurate. "It's inside the pressure vessel. I am afraid we cannot reach it from here."
"Damn it," the chief grumbled, muffled by the reactor's deep and constant rumbling. He made his way over to a phone to call up and report the situation.
Only a mere moment after directing the call to the bridge with the simple push of a button, the captain picked up, sounding seemingly expectant of the call. "Engineering, bridge. I do not recall ordering more speed, what's going on?"
"We have a problem down here, Captain," the chief began, "the primary reactor has suffered a leak inside the vessel, and we're switching to the secondary for now, but we've got no way to effectively cool down the primary reactor. Core temperature is rising rapidly."
Shadow's tone changed within seconds of the news hitting his ears. "What kind of leak? Where is it located?"
"Coolant leak, sir, inside the primary loop. It is in the pressure vessel, where we can't get to, but it is contained for right now," the chief returned firmly, managing to keep his tone level.
"Continue startup of the secondary reactor, isolate the primary from the rest of the system and flood it with seawater if you have to. We cannot afford a meltdown. Not out here, not anywhere. There's twenty-five hundred ponies on this carrier who are all under my watch."
Despite the captain not being capable of seeing him physically, the chief nodded, understanding of what was at stake and what will happen with his orders. "Aye, sir. But, a bit of forewarning, we are going to lose all power and propulsion for some time."
Coexisting with stoicism, Shadow questioned with a distinct tinge of genuine concern in his demeanor, "For how long do you propose?"
"Thirty minutes, maybe forty. We are figuring it out as we speak, skip," the chief answered, only partially unsure of himself, though he needed a response on the fly.
"Understood. Get to work on that right away. Send someone up with updates when and if necessary. I would like to know the minute you do if it comes to where we must abandon ship."
"No worries, skip. We should be back to normal operations in no time." As soon as he hung up, he turned to everypony in the control room. "All right, we're flooding the primary reactor! Everybody step on it!"
***
Shadow hung up the phone receiver and released a stiff and weighted exhale. Though the full conversation remained strictly between the two of them, the words spoken from him concerned us enough. "We can't stay put in the water. We just cannot. We will be sitting ducks."
"We are going dead stop, Captain?" Tacimo blinked, having just recently stepped hoof on the bridge on schedule.
"Gonna have to. Engineering's reporting a leak with the coolant in the primary reactor and it's overheating, that is why we are gaining so much speed. They will have to flood the chamber with seawater to prevent the rods from reaching a critical temperature, because that would poison everyone on this forsaken ship and everything for hundreds of miles of ocean all around, and that will flow eastward."
Well, that is reassuring to my already-stressed mind. More so recalling that the Eclipse is, in fact, dependent on radioactive heat transforming water to vapor for energy without the need for conventional fuel, like what the other ships in the fleet are forced to use.
"What about the Ajerstanians, sir?" I questioned. I had been aware for some time that they had fallen behind radar contact, so no one really had any clue of where they were. Not us, nor our accompanying destroyers and cruisers.
"We will have to let them catch up with us if they are continuing pursuit," Shadow answered, disinclined. "I want you to keep your eyes on your monitors at all times, Corporal. Keep in mind we will be in the dark for around a half an hour according to Engineering."
I nodded understandingly. "Aye, sir." Just a few hours prior, his concern had lowered as soon as we pulled ahead of the other fleet. Believing we were out of harm's way relieved everypony for the most part. That is, until now.
For as long as I could, up until every electronic flicked off as consequence of the reactor shutting down, I watched my screens individually with eagle eyes. At any moment I expected an unidentifiable blip to appear, trailed by seven others, and I wouldn't know if they did during the outage time until we were up and running again.
Without the help of radar or sonar, our only method of tracking nearby vessels was visually, about as far as the horizon would grant. Before the outage commenced, Shadow had informed the crew below deck of the problem with the reactor, as well as that we would be forced to go dead in the water and proceeded to call up additional sailors to provide watch on the port and starboard of the island. From there, they could easily call out through an open window if they spot something out of the ordinary.
He also gave the order to drop the anchor to ensure we won't drift off into unfamiliar waters, especially if ships such as the Gibbous and Aphelion are keeping close on our flanks. Along with the other destroyers and cruisers, they formed a circle of protection around the Eclipse. Even though we were strictly out of contact with them as far as radio signals go, they are to maintain visual contact and defend in case the Ajerstanians come back.
With night rapidly approaching, that task will not be so simple. Navy ships tend not to have many lights on for security, only small ones that might disguise us as any civilian vessel. Alas, if the power isn't restored before then, we are sure blend with the dark of the water. At least that gives some sense of safety among the crew, assuming the others are not as advanced to be equipped with night vision.
Then, out of the blue, our prayers were answered. The lights flickered on across the whole of the flight deck as well as the bridge. We were back in business at last, a whole two minutes earlier than expected.
Not long after, Shadow's phone rang. Assuming it was from engineering, he picked it up immediately. However, the bittersweet moment cut short when the proud and alleviated look on his face floundered, transforming to a disapproving frown.
"I am afraid I have more bad news, skip. We did manage to get the power restored to the ship, so there's that, but we cannot get the backup reactor to switch over for propulsion."
"What are you saying, Chief? How long are we going to be stuck here?"
"Two, three days, at least. There is not much we can do from where we currently stand. If what we do does not work, we may have to radio in for a tow. Just my assumption."
"That could take a week or more until they can reach us. Even then that simply does not help our present situation!"
"I'm sorry, skip. I assure you we are trying our best down here, but she is giving us a tantrum like any we have seen before."
Sighing, rubbing a hoof along his forehead with his eyes closed, Shadow nodded into the phone. "Affirmative. Keep me updated," he concluded, hanging up afterward and hunching over his console. His uneasy stare gawked off into the darkening abyss beyond the ship's aft.
We all focused on him expectantly, awaiting answers. I dashed my eyes around for a moment to study everypony else, then returned to Shadow, who had stepped down and swiveled his body to face us. I felt as though I understood before he had the chance to speak up.
"The boys below deck are having issues switching over power for the engines to the secondary reactor now that the primary is offline. We aren't going anywhere for a little while. Thankfully we are able to keep everything else running smoothly until a solution is worked out."
Shadow inhaled sharply and deeply, arching his head back in a light stretch. "Unfortunately, this gives the Ajerstanians a prime chance to come within missile or torpedo range. Provided that happens, we, nonetheless, have our defense systems, not to mention the rest of our fleet to back us up should matters escalate."
The senior chief off to his right blinked, puzzled. "What about our mission, Captain?" Of course you had to, Tacimo.
"Frankly I am more concerned about getting us on the move. We have been unsuccessful thus far in finding anything in our search, and I have a ship full of anxious sailors who are asking unanswered questions. Personally, the safety of my crew is my utmost importance for the time being."
Tacimo's brows lowered into a scowl. "Sir, we cannot abandon our mission. Not for a second time. On top of that, you cannot look me in the eye and tell me we won't show assertion to these narcissistic assholes if they so as make radar contact again!"
Like a bullet had been fired from his glare, Shadow twisted himself to face the arrogant-minded sailor forwardly. "I refuse to start a war with a country who would be elated to now have a justifiable reason to defend themselves at sea, Senior Chief. Until you commandeer a ship and have a crew of your own, you will not give the orders on my command deck! I suggest you take a stick of glue and shut your fucking trap before I toss you off the aircraft platform myself!"
His words cut deep into the senior chief, who in turn flinched back. He repaid with silence and a look of disgust. Had this not been the military, the three of us observing might have started clapping.
Shifting his focus over, Shadow cooled himself and notably slackened his posture before he continued. "We will be launching the AEW as soon as all light fades. They will be capable of tracking that sub without arousing suspicion for as long as they have the fuel to remain airborne," he then glanced over to my station. "Corporal, weather report?"
***
A couple of hours since dusk, Shadow had walked off the bridge to head below deck and brief the Airborne Early Warning flight squadron and thus leaving Senior Chief Tacimo to watch duty, much to our dismay.
Better late than never, I guess. My shift was soon over and thus came my rotation for the night. Finally, I could from the senior chief, not that he had said much after their scuffle. Lemoore could not have been more correct, there really is something off about that stallion.
I walked into my compartment, scanning briefly to see if anyone might have been in there sleeping. A quiet exhale dribbled from my lips. For the past seven hours my heart continued to pound against the wall of my chest while I remained in a perturbed state. Due to it, I decided against having supper to avoid accidentally sickening myself. With every rapid pump surged out a wave of anxiety, like ripples in water surrounding a still object or figure. It was easily one of the worst conceivable feelings to bear, and once again, it was the real deal.
Today only marked the thirteenth consecutive day since the tension first began and the anxiety that followed close behind. Over those days it had steadily worn itself off, only to pick right back up when something new came about. This was not like those other times where the threat virtually jumped at our faces all at once. No, this was lingering, persistent. The idea that those pricks were following us anywhere we go, no matter what we do, was beyond the boundaries of nerve-wracking and plain nettling to say the least.
Neither of us were truly certain that their actions were meant to scare us away, or if they were legitimate warnings and we have been testing our luck for this long. They claimed to be out here for the same reason we were according to Shadow, though I find that hard to believe. Recalling back to a pre-deployment briefing before this one, prior to the hurricane, he did once mention the Ajerstanians and their close ally and their enmity towards Equestria. It wouldn't come as much of a shock to me in the least if they undoubtedly are standing by long enough to start a war.
Whatever it was going on back in Canterlot regarding the 'Cold stare' as virtually every pony on the ship now called it was apparently confidential to everypony. Not even Shadow was in on anything. The name came about when the televisions up around the mess deck reported on the situation except, to our surprise, it wasn't the Lunar Fleet that was the main topic. Rather it was Ajerstan that became the primary focus on most reports involving the pressure overseas.
I believe that was a significant reason as to why Shadow has been so apprehensive lately, nor can I really blame him for it. Anypony who is remotely aware of what is going on beyond the steel bulkheads that shielded us for right now would be, too.
Heading in to my berthing to relax for the evening, I sighed in a depressive manner, kicking the door closed with my hind hoof somewhat strenuously. The force of it slamming shut reverberated off of the metallic walls and absorbed into the padded-tile flooring. My mind went elsewhere in that instance as I took a few steps further into the slender area. Eerily enough, the space gradually darkened around me. As I begun to zone out suddenly, both of my ears swiveled back.
Any vigilant pony would have noticed the irregular and discernible respirating motions of my chest as fast breaths entered and exited my nostrils in a vaguely audible demeanor, yet I did not somehow, despite it physically moving my shoulders with each inhale. The heaving worsened into a dreadful, fully fledged attack as the seconds ticked past. Soon I realized myself becoming partially enveloped by the looming dark that exponentially shadowed the room, closing in little by little with me in dead center, yet I still never ultimately took notice.
A surge of undesired emotions struck me simultaneously: sadness, anger, bitterness, accompanied by recollections I adamantly refused to revisit, each one battering my mind like a continual punch. The mixture of feelings took a firm grasp on my trembling form with digging claws that on the cusp of puncturing my skin and spilling out my lifeline onto the berthing floors. The walls appeared to close in gradually, trapping me in place, and the spotlight that fixated on me alone shrunk threateningly.
I knew shit was falling apart the first time this all happened, when they blew a hole in the ship and started boarding through it. Then when the city exploded into chaos at the start of their attack. It was growing to be too much for my head to wrap around, even if those were both well off in the past, but also still fairly recent in time. It didn't matter either way. Fact was, the feeling of adrenaline-fueled fear in either state of affairs was rapidly reoccurring this very second.
Static filled my ears as any remaining sense of perception gradually vanished. Not like the kind of static feedback from a radio, but more on the lines of ringing and buzzing like a fly's wings, albeit far from a ringing sound; deeper, creepier. It fogged my mind and rendered my conscience silent in a triflingly sinister behavior, forcing me into running off of a nonexistent instinct without any aid of understanding reality. My ear flicked twice heavily, followed by the other with both attempting to wear off the strange sense and even compelled me to rub one of them with a hoof.
For only a brief second did I snap out of this weird trance, my body jolting as all sound momentarily blasted into my ears before it muted again. Cores of ruby-crimson dilated when a lukewarm perspiration accumulated above my shock-raised brows, between the thin wrinkles along my forehead. My breath caught silently to the realization dawning on me. It was happening all over again. Why me? I slurred. What did I do to merit these feelings?
The rush in the midst of this slowdown was deadened by an abrupt nausea that roiled my stomach, contorting it into many tight and twisting knots. Fighting through this fog was a battle on its own, and no end appeared to be within reach. It grew to be too overwhelming, and I finally decided to take matters into my own hooves.
Both of my hooves took hold of my head, shaking it slowly at first. "Stop it!" I screamed at the top of my lungs that my mind perceived as my inner voice, swiftly throwing myself at the wall on the lower end of my rack. Initially my hooves impacted, then my forehead with a loud metallic thud. The blow discharged an intense ache that spread beyond the site of contact throughout my entire head, compressing it excessively into the cold steel that lined this tiny quarter.
My teeth grit together, suppressing an anguished cry as my eyes slammed shut, lids clenching tightly and trembled with tears squeezing narrowly in between. The chords down my throat burned in ramification of the wail I resentfully emitted. A sense of hopelessness usurped, and what little of myself was left grew desperate to flee the prison of my own mind.
The past was bound to make a second run. It took its time, around nine months to be precise, and it was quickly rebounding in full swing. Like somepony had taken a baseball bat built upon former miserable ordeals and locked target with my very essence, purposed to revive those horrid reminders that I have fought to leave behind.
I jerked my head backward, and in a moment's notice crashed it forcefully into the wall, and repeatedly I began slamming my forehead with all the leftover strength in me without consideration for the damage it could result in. With each blow my brain jutted about, harshly being knocked around up above.
I wanted it to stop. I wanted all of it to end immediately, even if it meant driving myself out of consciousness.
The entirety of my skull burst with a throbbing twinge that boiled my blood and shot a blazing inferno into my chest, a rage that urged me further until I could no longer retain the strength to keep going. Dazed, I staggered backwards, losing strength in my legs and falling onto my haunches. Pained groans cut between my teeth as I raised a trembling hoof to the side of my head. My vision blurred and doubled, and was spinning in circles.
As if curtains had been draped over me with what light there was, it faintly attempted to reel back whilst awareness of my surroundings gradually returned. My gaze lifted to the wall in front of me, setting upon a drooling streak of ichor that rolled down it slowly. The metal itself was, to my consternation, now dented inward taking a rounded shape of my forehead as consequence of the constant hits it took.
The skin above my brow had fluctuated with a combination of lighter blues and reds as it bruised, dripping small droplets of blood delicately in the form of a running stripe falling down my upper muzzle between my eyes. I closed the right lid to stop it from entering my eye and wiped it gently, grunting at the sting from merely touching it, holding my quivering hoof further beyond my face to examine the reddish sap carefully.
Dizziness had begun to settle in, as every blink and bat became a laborious task and a struggle to keep myself alert to a degree. Shaky, deep breaths by which my drooping ears barely picked up shifted my shoulders with every inhale. My bell had most certainly been rung, I knew that much. The cloud obscuring my conscience evaporated, impulsively causing my mind to explode in a conflicted muse of disarray. The majority of my thoughts at the time consisted of questions surrounding what just happened, if I was okay, or if I should seek immediate medical attention for the self-inflicted wound.
Rightfully, I had no true indication of what move I should make then. The persisting misery covering much of my forehead and one of the worst all-around migraines I have ever felt took a substantial toll on my perception. Distress began to cross my mind that the damage was far worse than anticipated, and it only doubled when a voice from the doorway behind me startlingly hollered, "Star! What in the hell are you doing?!"