//------------------------------// // 44. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part II // Story: Millennia: Eye of the Storm // by Thunderblast //------------------------------// With the Gibbous and its commanding officer taking lead of the mission, both it and the Aphelion steamed east at maximum sustainable speed of thirty-two knots and steadily closing the gap between them and their target. For those on board, apart from a selected few previously informed of the task at hoof, everything ran like clockwork as if it were a regular deployment with the mindset of a training exercise. The two ships initiated radio silence as part of underway protocol, limited to occasional communication between one another for minor course corrections and nothing else. No information from Central Command came through any frequencies, thus giving the false impression that nothing urgent required their immediate attention, leaving either vessel utterly oblivious to the disaster presently transpiring back home. In the meantime for the duration of the jaunt to the unbeknownst destination of the fault along the sea floor, Silver Edge and Anchorage went about their routine. Both sailors and best friends stood by for further instructions when the time eventually calls for it. Silver, in severe lack of something to keep him preoccupied, quietly strolled alongside Anchorage while his friend bounced between compartments on the ship, checking every working piece of equipment to make sure each component, minor or crucial to the ship's functionality, performed as it should. For once, it seemed little required his attention and expertise in the repair field. As he casually tagged along, the beige unicorn made it his mission to locate a family member on board. At long last, it was his chance to meet half of the reason for enlisting. He could not afford to miss it after all he has learned of his uncle, from shared memories of him and his father's foalhood to knowledge of his almost two-decade service to the Navy. The Gibbous—when compared to its big sister, the Eclipse—housed two hundred and some change rather than three thousand. Much less amenities occupied the significantly smaller space aboard the guided missile destroyer to keep sailors productive, though orders never changed, and work activities resumed as usual at the cost of much of the crew's morale until they return to port in a week's time. "Hey, so, you never quite told me. What's your uncle's name?" asked Anchorage, glancing over his shoulder to his friend. "You know, in case he and I cross paths while you aren't with me." "Striker. Uh... Gray Striker," answered Silver. "Not sure why 'Gray'. Most of the ponies in my family's history tend to be named after appearance, so maybe that's why? I don't know. I've never seen him, not even a portrait. For some reason Dad never had one of him." Anchorage nodded, facing forward. "I do recall you telling me you got your name from the silver streak in your mane. Where does the 'Striker' come from?" "Because he packs a punch," said Silver, flatly, bringing a slightly amused grin to the pegasus' muzzle, unapparent from behind. "Dad told me he and Gray fought a lot as foals, but not the way you would expect. You know, harmless wrestling, sometimes they would kick each other. In Uncle's case, he liked to punch and give accidental black eyes. Always would get in trouble for it, but Dad would defend him 'cause he knew they were just playing." A short laugh came from Anchorage at that. "So they were close?" "Presumably." Silver shrugged his shoulders. "It left Dad depressed as all hell when Gray left for boot camp when he turned twenty-one. According to him, they were inseparable." "Twenty-one. Damn. So your uncle is in his forties then?" "Well, almost twenty years now of continued service, I would assume so. Think there would be a problem if he's nowhere close, younger or older," joked Silver, bringing a chuckle out of the both of them. After no more than a few minutes spent traversing passageways and up a flight of stairs to another level, the two arrived at the helicopter bay consisting of roughly a fourth of the ship's aft and stern, sitting between crew quarters, the bridge, and the landing pad just outside. The space's lighting consisted of primarily waterproof bulbs surrounded in metal cages, maintaining a well-lit atmosphere in the hangar designed to store only one rotary aircraft. At the time, one MH-60 Seahawk helicopter finished with a brushed steel grey and Lunar Republic blue along the tail section sat undergoing maintenance by a small pack of aviation mechanics. Only one division stationed aboard the Gibbous, with each destroyer able to land helicopters in the Lunar Fleet having one of their own as well. The Eclipse, presently being the only carrier of its type in the Lunar Navy—and likely to be rendered obsolete by future supercarriers of a new class looming on the planning board with a boost of military funding over recent years—houses five large divisions of mechanics consisting of ten to twelve ponies each to maintain a total of twenty aircraft; the minimum for times of peace, whereas times of conflict or even declared war grants anywhere between thirty and sixty, the maximum number of jet fighters and helicopters able to be stored aboard the carrier. As soon as he stepped hoof inside the hangar bay, Anchorage halted in his tracks, ears perking up as his eyes fell upon a pair of sailors toward the closed rear doors. "Huh. Speak of the devil." Silver entered behind the pegasus and came up on his side. "What is it?" When he looked forward, he understood what Anchorage meant. For a time, a silence fell upon the two as they scrutinized. Then came doubt. "Wait... how do you know it's him?" queried Silver, puzzled by his friend's certainty. "Hard not to notice the resemblance," Anchorage remarked with a slight smirk on his muzzle, gesturing his hoof to key similarities between his friend and fellow shipmate, and the somewhat intimidating tan-coated, grey and black short-maned figure stood across the room. Upon closer examination, he knew now the pegasus was spot-on. The jet-black along the edges of his stone-colored hair matched the dark of his grandmother's mane before age had its way and permanently cursed her with frizzled grey. His blue, borderline-purple eyes bore similarities to his father's sangria irides, and so did his physical build; tall, stocky with the horn length of a prince. It was him, it simply had to be. Silver stared in utter silence, now absolutely dumbfounded and unsure of his next move. He turned to his buddy, who motioned a hoof, signalling that he greet the sibling of his only parent. Drawing in a deep breath, exhaling to ease his tense muscles, the beige unicorn started toward the chief in a conversation with a stallion of similar rank to his pegasus companion. Raising his volume just adequately to attract the unicorn's attention, he called, "Uncle?" a bright ear-to-ear smile in the process of widening across his muzzle when the stallion's indigo-rich sights slowly set upon him, only temporarily glancing away to shoo off the petty officer he was talking to. Silver trotted up to the similarly-coated relative, preparing to meet him with a cordial embrace for the first time. However, the move to hug his uncle was ultimately prevented when the young Marine-turned-sailor instead met with a sky-blue magical forcefield standing between the two unicorns with the eldest of them behind its abrupt appearance. "Fraternization isn't allowed. Not on this ship, not on any ship, not on base," said the chief, monotone with neutrality on his countenance. He dispersed the shield only when Silver backed off of it and maintained enough distance to be out of his personal space. "Right, er, so-sorry..." Silver hastily apologized, stiffening his posture. His eyes then widened in realization. "...Chief." At least he recognizes me. Sort of. Went Silver in his head, ultimately disappointed by this first impression. He started to question whether or not now was the prime moment to meet him. If experience told him anything, it was that sailors, and sometimes officers on deployment act much the opposite of who they are in port or at home. Perhaps this was the case for his uncle, too. Keeping a gap while within range of the two, Anchorage rolled his eyes and let off a low, quiet groan only audible to himself. He felt the embarrassment for his fellow shipmate, but didn't himself know then how to mend the situation. When a silence persisted between the two, leading to the bewilderment of the chief petty officer in question, it was his cue to step in. "Chief Striker, it is a pleasure," chimed Anchorage, approaching the gold device-wearing uniformed stallion nonchalantly. The sand-coated unicorn tilted his head in bewilderment after his attention shifted to the pegasus sailor. "The pleasure is mine, Petty Officer, but what for?" At that, Anchorage's lips pursed into a frown. A very indiscernible one. "To stand among an officer whom is the uncle of my best friend, Chief." Puzzled, Gray Striker transitioned between either petty officer before him. After only a split second studying the beige-coated unicorn some three feet forward, little denial remained. "You're Graphite's kid?" Blinking twice, Silver gave a single, firm nod following a second of quiet. "Yes, Chief." In that instance, the taller, higher-ranking stallion narrowed his indigo cores solely on the beige pony claiming to be his nephew. "Never thought he'd let somepony else join up after I did," he rejoined with an edge to his tone. "He spoke highly of you growing up. You never visited, so I figured I would make plans to meet you one day. Apart from him, sir, you are the only blood family I have left." This slightly took Striker aback, leaving him speechless for a good minute at the very least. His expression did change, yet his demeanor remained set in stone. "You threw your life away to see me?" The manner in which his words came together met Silver with disdain, stabbing at him in a way that even Anchorage felt just by merely standing in their presence. "Yes, I did," retorted Silver, gently furrowing his eyebrow. Striker's head cocked left a little. "And you spent how long making sure you get on my ship just for this?" "No time, actually. You see, I am stationed aboard the Eclipse. Petty Officer Anchorage here is, too. There was a temporary change of command while the Eclipse is out of commission." Silver's head dipped slightly, ears faltering back. "Chief, I joined for more than the privilege of meeting you for the first time in twenty-two years. This was simply one of my goals along the way." To Striker, Silver's explanation seemed nothing more than a sob story. Despite hearing compelling reason and a very slight sense of respect different than the kind garnered from other sailors, it ultimately held no significance to him. As the chief parted his maw to speak in return, red lights swirled along the walls, and a wailing alarm sounded throughout the hangar. Everypony immediately stopped what they were doing, looking around them in utter perplexity. It took a moment for the noise's meaning to strike him, and when it did, Anchorage's eyes shot wide open. "That's the firing alarm! What the hell are we shooting at?" Before any response was given, both Silver and Striker sprinted out of the helicopter bay through the hatch they entered through. Almost immediately after, a grave announcement rang out across the 1MC that reverberated on the open space's walls. "General Quarters! General Quarters! Security alert! Unauthorized launch sequence initiated! All hooves, man your battle stations! This is not a drill!" Anchorage took off toward CIC, moving with giant strides in every step and with the aid of his wings propelling him down the corridor like a blur of dark blue and white. When he entered the operations room, the entire place was in discord. Most of the sailors working in CIC weren't sure what was happening. All they knew was that their weapons were hot when neither of them authorized it. One fire controlpony in particular expressed his individual concerns audibly in hopes of bringing someone to him for assistance. "My guidance systems have been compromised, I can't control them!" "What did you do?!" furiously shouted a master chief, pushing gently past Anchorage to the panicking sailor. "No-nothing! They started counting down on their own, I'm locked out!" the petty officer said, affirming his innocence and frantically pressing buttons across his station in attempt to prevent a missile launch. Seeing now the genuine nature of the earth pony's confusion, the master chief softened his tone toward him while maintaining a stern attitude at the situation. "Who did it, and what is it targeting?" "I-I don't know! Hang on..." The sailor typed away as fast as his hooves would allow, desperate to figure something out. Miraculously, discovering what they were inadvertently about to shoot at was the one thing his previously secure access had not been blocked to. A dark green window displaying various pieces of information popped up, the writing alternating between red and yellow in a signal of alarm. "Heavy aircraft over the coast of Equestria, one nautical mile north of Manehattan, flight level three-two-zero. Appears to be an Egret C-17." Anchorage's heart sunk deep, and his blood ran cold as the ice back in his home town. Just then, a final warning popped up on the screen. The tension struck rock bottom at the sailor’s last announcement. “It’s firing!” *** "Wait, wait, wait, we're doing what now?" I repeated, in desperate need of clarification. In my head, I prayed repeatedly that my ears were deceiving me, though it was quickly becoming apparent that they weren't. Snow finished tightening the last strap on his harness, yanking up a parachute bag to fasten it over his shoulders while ensuring his wings wouldn't be affected. "You heard me. Plane can't land safely in Manehattan, the runways were too severely damaged by the quake." "So where the hell are we headed?!" I shrieked, then questioning whether or not that was actually my voice that spoke afterward. "Oh, we are still going to Manehattan," said the lieutenant, gesturing between the group gathered near the closed ramp. "But we won't be needing the jet any more." Now it made sense why we had returned to cruising altitude. High altitude, low opening. That's what HALO stood for, and I despised him even more for him to merely bring it to mind, let alone order. "I've never done this shit before, Lieutenant, I wasn't trained to jump from a damn plane!" "You're a pegasus, you should be just fine," he said dismissively, walking over to a set of all-black, full-faced helmets and tossing one to me. With a soft click barely audible above the muffled whine of the engines, he donned the headpiece to ultimately complete his stealthy look. Just the piece itself changed his appearance as a whole, leaving only his wings and tail unprotected and exposed. Were they, and I would not have recognized him until he spoke. My gaze darted up and down between the helmet and him as my heart started to race. "That—that doesn't mean anything, Snow!" I let off a sigh of fear-induced frustration. "Damn it, you're dead serious about this, aren't you?!" "Get your damn gear on and quit your bitching, will you?" he snapped, voice masked under the helmet that conformed to his muzzle and snapped snugly and securely down to his neck. This time, he did sound furious. "What is with you? What has you so against parachuting? What do you have to worry about?" "I'm afraid of heights, damn it!" I bellowed, ultimately halting everypony in the bay. I didn't care at that moment and focused solely on the lieutenant before me. "I can't fly. I never learned how to. Simple tasks such as riding an elevator up a damn hotel make me paranoid as it is, and this certainly doesn't help!" Snow blinked, his eyes shaded by the tinted visor that wrapped in one piece from temple to temple. He cocked his head in confusion. "You... never learned how to fly? Not even in basic?" "Hell no!" I stomped my hoof loudly on the metal floor. "I chickened out of that shit, and they let me get away with it!" Apart from the constant roar of the engines permeating the air since the start of the flight, silence filled the hold as all eyes turned to me. The lieutenant looked utterly taken aback. One moment, he looked ready to toss me out of the plane himself. The next, compassion filled him. Removing his headpiece, the pegasus walked up. My anger quelled, only to be replaced by pure anxiousness. "Deep breaths, Star," assured Snow, rubbing his hoof on my shoulder gently. "Listen, don't worry much about it. I'm not going without a reserve chute, either. Get too scared, pull the chord. Your chute is guaranteed to open. Worst case, you have one of us to catch you on the way down." "Th-there has to be another way," I sputtered, barely able to muster the words through deep breaths and essentially on the brink of hyperventilating. Snow shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Hey, what else are you afraid of?" I then looked up at him, puzzled for a moment by the sudden change of subject. "N-needles?" "Needles? Aw, come on, needles aren't that bad. Just gotta close your eyes and take a deep breath. Remember the advice I gave you a little while back at the range?" I nodded shakily. "Still applies." Continuing to stare in silence for a few moments, I then proceeded to draw in deep gulps of air at a time and softly exhale. It helped reduce some of the anxiety, though not by much. Doing so, however, lowered my heart rate to the point of where I could feel it beating again. "Now, are you with me, Corporal?" he questioned, coming off as more of a statement and eager for my answer. In response, I gave a skeptical half nod with a shrug of my shoulders. "Good enough for me. Get your gear on." With an affirming nod, I started preparing myself for the jump. The process took no more than a minute, and it gave the lieutenant a bit of time to quickly brief the squad with our helmets on and sealed. "Listen up, Marines. We'll be dropping into Manehattan Park just west of Bridleway. There will not be anypony waiting for us down there, so there will be no red smoke, no flares to guide the way. If all else fails, drop along the lake shore. That will be our rendezvous point. "Watch out for buildings on your way down should you take the scenic route, and I trust none of you will. There will be plenty of smoke to obscure your line of sight, so don't fuck it up. Once we're all down, we work our way to the contacts in the city for an update on intel. Oorah?" "Oor—" Just then, an enormous explosion threw the plane into a ninety-degree bank, forcing myself and the lieutenant against the opposite wall as a result. The loading ramp sheered off entirely, as did a good portion of the left rear side of the aircraft and part of the floor, too. Light from the distant sunset poured into the cargo bay, and half of the Marines stood around waiting to drop out vanished in the blink of an eye as the decompression sucked them all out of the severely-damaged aircraft. Through the comms piece, a harmony of alarms rang out in the cockpit as the pilots struggled to maintain stability. After latching on to a net along the other side of the plane still mostly intact, I looked behind me and through the gaping hole, only to watch the outer port engine disintegrate and take along with it a large chunk of the wing in a ball of fire and smoke falling at an angle to earth. In that instance, I felt as if the whole world had started to roll over, caused by a massive loss of lift on one side of the aircraft and forcing it into a downward spiral toward earth. The rapid motions and g-forces threatened to pull me out along with the others, and the sky quickly alternated between being above and below us. "We've been hit!" shouted the first officer through his headset, unaware of the situation's full extent. "Jump, jump, jump!" Without a moment spent hesitating or gathering the courage necessary to do so, I let go. No more than a second passed when I found myself outside of the plane, my total momentum seemingly ceasing to exist and thrusting me into a fall straight down. Even with the helmet and its built-in rebreather, all breath in my lungs sucked itself completely out purely from shock and overall unawareness of the true scope of the situation. I threw my wings wide open to straighten myself to where the ground sat some five miles below me and rapidly approached, looking up to watch an orange and grey blur race downward. Fiery debris rained like a meteor shower in chunks or little pieces as what was once a cargo transport plane nosedived to its demise, likely with both pilots still on board. The whole port side wing was obliterated and falling in tandem to the fuselage, and the overall shifting of gravity and weight began to tear what remained of the one hundred and forty-ton jet apart, trailed by columns of thick, black smoke curving directly down from the source of the missile's collision. My focus then transitioned elsewhere. No longer did I put the plane's condition to mind, but the fact that I was now in a total free fall without a clue of what to do next. Skydivers both military and for leisure equipped watches with altimeters to track their descent, but without one of my own, all I had were my wits to tell me how high up I was and my speed. It would not be long before I reach terminal velocity, if I had not already. There was still plenty of altitude between me and the ground, much to my relief, though I imagine it wouldn't be longer than a couple of minutes before I start seeing office rooftops and perhaps have one be the last thing to go through my head. In fact, this high up, even the clouds themselves seemed small. Through the crevices of cloud cover, the darkened, crumbling city peeked through under an extra layer of smog combined by fires scattered across the region. Looking up again, my eyes met the evening horizon, protected from blinding light by the shaded visor that adjusted to the shift of brightness. Beautiful yellows and oranges surrounded the setting sun for miles with upper-level cirrus clouds like fresh paint straight off of an artist's brush stretched beyond the land's outline, swirling like a vortex around the flaming cosmic ball of plasma. This, in itself, was a sight for sore eyes. One I would likely never catch from this perspective ever again. Mesmerized by the view, it temporarily coursed my thoughts elsewhere and numbed my senses. The wind between my wings, gusting relentlessly against my underside with my hooves splayed out. Despite its endless roar, the noise silenced in my ears as I gazed upon the sunset in its unchanging nature, even as I rapidly plunged to the earth like a round fired from a gun. It gave me a new outlook on life as I knew it. And now, I finally understood what it was like to fly. "Is everypony clear of the plane?!" rang the lieutenant's voice in my helmet's earpiece, ultimately shattering my trance and shoving me back to some sense of reality. One by one, each voice of the Marines back on the plane returned, leaving only the pilots' fates undetermined still. "Shooter! Where are you?!" "I'm—I'm clear! I-I'm okay!" I affirmed, having to shout in order to hear myself speak over the tornado in my ears, despite the helmet's full protection. "I don't see you guys, I think I am above you!" "We are descending through nine thousand feet, eighty-six knots!" responded Javelin Charm. "Breaking lower mid-level clouds now!" Because myself and the clouds mentioned still had plenty of distance between each other, that positioned me roughly some two thousand feet above the others. Frankly, that thought in my head was far from comforting, knowing nopony could guide me down visually. This was all up to me at this point, with perhaps some help from Snow to figure out just when to open my chute. From where we initially jumped—or were forced to—the fall seemed everlasting. Within the next minute, however, is when proximity to the ground would enter the threshold of danger. Past the thin layer of clouds, the city and the scope of the destruction became fully visible for miles. One shift of my gaze upward and to the left honed me in on the target: Manehattan Park. As I watched the ground approach, a new fear slowly took hold; if I pull my parachute too late, I might not slow fast enough and break something upon landing, or worse if traveling with enough velocity. From where I was, pulling now would allow me to glide safely to the drop site, albeit gradually and likely leaving me the last pony to touch down and waste precious time. However, angst would be the determining factor, and I swiftly reached for the lollipop. The instance my hoof yanked the string, the bag secured across my back opened. A tug lurched my whole body upward as my downward speed was halted by the chute instantly catching the air, only to be followed two seconds later by a rip I wished to never hear. In that instance, gravity once more took hold and shoved against my center mass as I sped up to terminal velocity yet again. There was no use in checking, having immediately acknowledged what had happened. "My chute tore!" I shouted through the speaker in a panicked tone, striving my best not to flail around while I focused on the rapidly approaching buildings beneath. "Use your wings!" was Snow's dire response, sounding horrified himself for my safety. "Remember, you're a pegasus, just like me! You are built to fly!" Manehattan was dangerously close now. No more than thirty, maybe forty seconds until splat, and no reserve chute. No more options. My wings were my only hope now. Tightly shutting my eyes, I folded my forehooves to my sides and let my form tilt downward, spreading my wings as far as the joints extended and the tips reached. Every feather tingled as they exposed to the elements and the wind brushed between them. Over the course of a few moments, my whole body grew increasingly aerodynamic the more speed I collected. My dive steadily transformed to a glide as the air rapidly rushing under my wings began generating enough lift to remain airborne just a little bit longer. The change in motion and the forces of gravity against my body allowed some courage to open my eyes when the realization came that I wasn't dead yet. Rather than falling straight down as I was mere seconds prior, I now soared above the streets in a stable flight with plenty of speed to keep me going, stretching my forehooves out ahead of me to enhance my aerodynamics. Looking down, I watched ponies, carriages, and piles of debris lining the seemingly endless blocks zip past. As harrowing as it was, it ultimately brought a bright, joyous grin to my mouth. I was flying. However, the spurt of happiness ended prematurely as my sights lifted to settle upon a massive high rise office tower toppled over against another of similar height on the opposite side of the street. The leaning structure cracked wide open and bent at the center, threatening to give way and drop two separate sections consisting of tons of steel and concrete onto innocents hurrying under it before it could, and most of its windows were completely shattered. It was coming fast, right at me. There wasn't nearly enough time to climb over it, nor could I dip below the building between it and the ground without likely crash landing further down. My reaction time simply wouldn't be split-second enough, and thus my only choice was to fly straight through it and hope for the best. Folding my wings back to where I could maintain flight, I aimed toward one of the broken window frames and into the darkness. Like a bullet, my form darted through the building toward the other side. At any given second, I expected to clip something, such as a bookcase or an interior pillar that would either kill instantly or toss me elsewhere to a later death; yet somehow, my eyes remained open. With sufficient speed and trajectory in my favor, face first I crashed straight through a weakened glass pane and out of the unstable structure. The sudden impact startled me, though thankfully not enough to lose balance and spiral to the ground. Once clear of the tower, my wings spread to full length to slow my descent as I lowered to a large intersection some two blocks east of the Bridleway crossroads. I preemptively lowered all four hooves to catch myself upon landing, and when they first dug into the safety of the fractured cobble, my remaining speed and momentum sent me tumbling forward. Grunting heavily, I turned sideways, rolling twice before upright. Panting, my adrenaline spiked. I gasped for air to soothe my fear-emptied lungs, supplied by the mask's breathing apparatus that prevented me from passing out on the spot. My first instinct was to pat myself down for any injury. Doing so swiftly resulted in discovering that, apart from overly tense muscles and a speeding, likely unhealthy heart rate, nothing of mine was broken; a solid reminder of the quote that any landing you can walk away from is a good landing. Sitting up, taking the helmet on both sides, a small click allowed it to lift up and off my head. A soft groan emanated from my muzzle as the piece no longer squeezed my skull, hooking it on a clip on the back of my vest without having to carry it along. I panted softly and rubbed my temple in circular motions, letting off a low grunt as the pain eased off incrementally. Glancing up from the ground let me at last take notice of all of the ponies standing or walking past with their sights set on me, frightened and shaken, yet also startled by the fact that I had just randomly dropped in near them from above. No words were spoken, not even as I examined my new surroundings. What could I say in that moment? The metropolis I worked in, even resided in for most of my time was rendered unrecognizable. Old structures once proudly lining these busy streets, some of which now lay in piles of rubble, pancaked against the ground with who knows how many still trapped inside. A quake of that magnitude, even though its official rating on the scale among other information wasn't presently at my discretion, it surprised me more of Manehattan wasn't leveled. The infrastructure around here simply did not possess the construction necessary to withstand intense shaking for prolonged periods of time, even if architects of newer additions to the city considered the risk for a seismically inactive region. Frankly, no one would have seen it coming. As it sat clipped over my shoulder, Snow's voice rang out through my helmet's headset loud enough for me to hear, even when not wearing it. "Star, where the hell did you go?! You missed the rendezvous point!" Once more, I found myself at a total loss for words. I didn't know how to respond. A pained ache left in my chest caused by the sight unfolding before my very eyes made my hoof clench over my heart. I rarely muster the emotions to so much as shed a tear, but this was more than enough. Water lined my cores, collecting along my lower lids, and a lump in my throat made it difficult to swallow. All this pain, all of this suffering in the eyes of hundreds as they strolled on by seeking comfort and security, every inch of it fueled the fire; the burning passion to fight back, to go after the true culprit. "Stand b—." static interference started cutting through the stallion's authoritative, stern voice, rendering it incoherent. "We're com—to g—you—." Rising to all fours, I looked around one last time. Despite having some idea of what Snow's orders were, it ultimately left me unsure of what to do. Ponies were moving east in orderly fashion in what I could only assume was an evacuation of the island. The lieutenant's plans were beyond me, and making my way to them might only further split us apart. With that, I started walking with the crowds toward lower Manehattan. *** "Disengage all weapons systems! Make sure your computers are completely shut down! Nothing stays on but radar and sonar! Is that clear?!" ordered Fair Winds as he stormed into CIC, gazing over a collection of sailors at their consoles. At his command, each pony hastily began turning off their work stations apart from a select few not manning a remote-controlled weapon. Doing so slightly darkened the room, though the red and blue ceiling lights kept a navigable environment. "If our ship's systems are at the mercy of whoever breached us, it is far too risky to attack. We are in the dark right now," he added. "Attack? Attack who, Captain?" questioned one of the petty officers, raising valid concern among those present and unaware of the true nature of their mission. At that, with his gaze softly set upon the worried sailor, the ship's commanding officer fell silent. All eyes turned to the captain, anticipant of his response. Those in command had been holding out on the crew since their departure at 0400; plus, not even they were aware of the extent of the damage back home. No distress calls, no emergency beacons, not a single transmission from Central Command. Now they realize the bug in their systems may have unknowingly contributed to that. By this point, it was the crew's right to know. Exchanging glances between the master chief in front of him, followed by the executive officer on his right, Fair Winds made up his mind. He drew in a breath, then began to speak aloud. "Gibbous, as of yesterday evening, we were tasked by the Admiral of the Lunar Fleet to a mission that involves firing upon an area of trench between two tectonic plates. We had been informed in an emergency meeting that somepony we once thought to be on our side has been secretly planning an assault against our fair nation. Generation Technologies, or as most of us have come to call it GenTech, is not what we thought it was. We are unsure of their intentions, although the intel brought to our immediate attention was sound enough to bring us where we now idly sit; atop the mid-Antlertic Ridge. "I know that I have been withholding information vital to the task at hoof, and I recognize that it has stirred up concerns and even spreading rumors on board regarding recent past events that have left much of Equestria on edge. Rest assured, the incident at the United World of Countries has absolutely nothing to do with why we are out here this evening. As such, I feel obligated to formally apologize to each and every one of you. It was wrong of me to think keeping certain information out of your minds would keep everypony well focused on the mission ahead. "As of this moment, it is no longer a secret. Orders were to seek and destroy a pulse device designed and constructed by GenTech on the ocean floor before it can cause damage to the homeland, and as horrifying as it may sound, we are presently unsure if this machine of unknown capabilities has already activated. There has been no word from home since we left port, and now that we are aware of some scope of the situation, it is all too certain that we are on our own out here." Leaning back against a table with his hooves on the edges, Fair Winds let off a low sigh. "Without manual access to our weapons systems, there is no way for us to destroy the device. It's safe to assume as well that the Aphelion is in a similar situation to us. "Each of you serve a distinct purpose here. Some of my crew's biggest brains sit or stand in this room as I speak. I need ideas as to what we can do from here on out. We already know diving to set explosives on the device is out of the question as nopony could reach such impossible depths," Fair Winds grunted, simultaneously questioning just how GenTech was able to before they had the tools to accomplish it. "Sailors, we are rapidly running out of time. Anything will suffice." Barring the soft purr of the engines below deck, the air in CIC fell utterly silent. Sailors stared at their captain while he spoke, but found it difficult to muster the answers he was looking for. Glances were exchanged between one another, some knowing, others completely clueless. The lack of discussion garnered a paper thin frown on Fair Winds' muzzle, yet supplied enough of an answer for him to work with. Suddenly, however, the silence was broken by one sailor's announcing voice from his station. "Captain! Sonar is picking up an unidentified vessel, three hundred feet below sea level, course heading two-three-zero at four knots." The captain curiously furrowed his eyebrow, sauntering over to the radarpony's console. "Not one of our subs, is it?" "Negative, sir. Completely different signature to our vessels," the sailor turned over his shoulder to him. "Looks to be Ajerstanian." "What in the fuck are they doing here?" grunted Fair Winds, hunching down to eye level with the monitor. "Haven't they caused us enough headaches at sea?" "Probably a spy run after the attack at the U.W.C," the master chief remarked, strolling up beside the captain and glancing over the wall screens with him. "Any attempts at contact?" said Fair Winds to the communications officer further down. Giving a firm shake of his head, the commo replied, "No, Captain. Not a word." The master chief on deck tapped the captain's shoulder, who turned his head to look at him. "Captain, what if we convince them of our intent? We can't shoot the device with torpedoes if our systems are unreliable, but I imagine whoever's behind the hack doesn't know about the sub. They could potentially help us destroy it!" The captain stood there in contemplation, checking some of the other sailors with brief glances for second opinions. Some nods were garnered. "It's worth a shot," said Fair Winds, turning back to the bulky earth stallion. "Commo, see if you can patch in our frequency with theirs. I would like to speak to them directly, the old fashioned way." "Aye, Skipper." Without hesitation, the communications officer went to work, twisting knobs and pressing buttons, hoping to patch in to a frequency that the hidden vessel could pick up on. The process lasted a few minutes, and in the end, the trial was successful, as suggested by a firm nod of the sailor's head. "Ready when you are, sir." Fair Winds stood tall, walking to the communications officer's post before a small machine centered under one hoof. "We know you are out there. It might not seem like it right now, but we are in dire need of your help." As he spoke, commo translated his words to morse code in order to relay the message to the submarine. "Our ships' weapons systems have been compromised by an outside threat and there is something down there putting countless innocent lives at stake that we must destroy. As far as we know, you are the only ones capable of firing upon the ocean floor at this moment. Will you help us?" There was a long, uneasy silence, only to be hardly broken when commo began scribbling down on a piece of yellow notebook paper while hastily scanning a cheat sheet taped above his station for easy reading. He glanced up to the chief when he finally finished writing. "Affirmative. What do you need?" Fair Winds waved a hoof for another sailor to come over. "Send them these underwater coordinates," he ordered as the sailor brought a neatly folded paper with the targeting information typewritten on it. "Tell them to fire upon the ocean floor and nothing else." More time passed, this time without a reply from the sub. Many including the captain anxiously waited, expecting a negative response, which would ultimately leave them at square one. Minutes ticked by like hours as every pony present slowly lost hope. "I am detecting a launch, sir," came the words that sent both a surge of relief and a wave of new tension washing throughout CIC. "Single torpedo, diving past eight thousand feet toward the trench. Impact in thirty seconds." "Excellent." The commanding officer gave a single nod, glancing over to the master chief. "Get a hold of boatswain, tell her I'm heading topside." "Aye, Captain," he nodded, trotting over to a single phone on the wall to call up to the bridge. As he did, Fair Winds started his way out of CIC. Just then, a bright flash lit up beneath the dark ocean surface, brightening it for one square mile from the source. The two destroyers lurched backwards, kicking up surf at their sterns as a giant explosion sent a jet of water towering five hundred feet straight up, only to rain down in a monsoon of saltwater that drenched the weatherdecks and anypony out on them. The shockwave and sudden movement of the ship launched Fair Winds and any sailors not quick enough to react and grab onto something into the ceiling, before he slammed into the floor below with a pained grunt. Striking either surface broke nothing in his body, though it did stun him. In that same instance, every electronic on the bridge shut off simultaneously, as well as any light and device anywhere throughout the ship. *** Nightfall hit the city hard. Without power, for the first time in decades, the once-magnificent, shimmering, bright metropolis of Manehattan as a whole went pitch black. Only battery-powered spotlights and backup generators on the verge of running out of fuel kept a few spotty lights on, and occasional small fires not yet put out. Hell, even some of the first responders were using them to navigate without wasting energy on their flashlights. All around me I looked as I strolled along with the crowds. Police officers stood at intersections, guiding frightened citizens to designated evacuation routes, which I had come to learn were via ferries once used to shuttle tourists to and from the Statue of Harmony, now utilized for getting ponies off Manehattan Island to Joint Base Manehattan and other boroughs, where relief camps had been set up in the tremor's immediate wake. Some temporary tents were put up on the sides of streets to treat the badly wounded in the area who were unable to be transported in enough time. Chunks of buildings lay scattered across the streets, along with heavy shards of glass that proved to be a major hazard for those walking. Without being able to see the ground around you, it was too easy to step on something harmful to one's hooves. The cobble roads were cracked, some fissures larger than others and were so deep that, under proper lighting, the water and gas lines sat visibly exposed beneath the surface, or even a subway tunnel. Enormous blazes had sprung up in multiple high rises and every available firefighter sprayed a continuous high-pressure jet of water as high as they could reach in an attempt to quell the flames. A choking smog had settled upon lower Manehattan caused by a mixture of smoke fumes and dust kicked up in the quake. I glanced up, noting Trotterdam Tower standing in the dark of the post-evening, the enormous golden equine head on top still glimmering pridefully in its own beacon that shot straight upwards in a pillar of white light far beyond its ear spires. The steadily-gathering cloud cover above limited the height the beam would reach, though maintained a luminosity that spanned out along the bottom with a brightness that matched that of a full moon. Then came a sudden shock. It startled me enough that I dropped into a readied posture and scanned around apprehensively. Other ponies also stopped and fearfully studied their surroundings, and as if the screaming and crying wasn't horrid enough already, it became more apparent that something was coming when the ground began to vibrate, steadily picking up in intensity until a second jolt sent hundreds tumbling like dominoes. Ponies began fleeing in a panic as debris fell from nearby skyscrapers and windows shattered, raining upon tens and leaving them with gaping lacerations or straight up stab-like wounds from glass shards impaling into flesh. I leaped back up, but had trouble maintaining stance due to the intensity of the shaking. A deep, terrifying groan filled the streets, compelling me to look up and see Trotterdam Tower swaying dangerously. My pupils shrunk to pinpricks and I felt my blood run cold as I helplessly watched enormous cracks work their way up the facade of the century-old skyscraper and climb the face of the horse spire, splitting at the exact midpoint of the structure. As it progressed, the beam of light stretching skywards began to flicker before it burnt out abruptly, no longer illuminating the overcast skies and plunging the crumbling city into further darkness. Ponies who took notice hauled ass running or flying the other way, pushing and stumbling over one another, trying to escape before the building came crashing down. I was in too much shock to move, observing as Manehattan's pride, a symbol of the city skyline, began to tilt over onto the street four blocks down and vanish completely in a booming explosion of dust and debris that flooded the street like an angry wave of destruction with a force strong enough to send ponies soaring off their hooves and into the air to their likely deaths. In its wake, only the lower half of the building still barely stood. Instantly my sights shot to my immediate left, where a dirtied and moderately bruised mare held her sobbing foal in a protective motherly hold, knowing fleeing themselves would do them no justice. I lurched over and snatched the mare, who still held a firm grip on her filly, carrying them both as fast as my hooves could take me to an alleyway right as the cloud swept past. As soon as we were safe in the alley, I leaped atop the both of them to act as a meat shield in case the unstable structures on either side of us came crashing down too, so that it would be me, and not them. The ordeal seemed to carry on forever. In all actuality, it lasted no more than a few minutes. The damage, however, had been dealt. When the dust finally settled, most of the crowd was missing; not due to clearing the area, but the gale-force blast of debris effectively blowing them away. Only one relief tent out of possibly dozens remained standing, held in place by some strong unicorn's magic from a pony hunkering down within to protect vulnerable wounded victims trapped inside. I remained on top of the mare and her foal for as long as the shaking persisted, caused by both the second quake and likely countless structures damaged by the first finally collapsing. It took some time to realize a few others had shared my idea and also took refuge in the same cut, checking to make sure everypony else was all right when it ended. But it wasn't all over. The choking smog blanketing the streets that further contributed to the darkness rendered ponies breathless and essentially hacking up a lung. This occurred to me as well when I finally inhaled after seemingly neglecting to breathe from the start of the tremor, and I brought up my sleeved hoof to breathe into. It would do for now, despite having become severely filthy as a result of all of the debris in the air. The flight helmet designed for high altitudes remained clipped on my back and served as an option as it included a self-regenerating respirator built in to the muzzle. Turning to look behind me, however, I noted of a dozen who needed it far more than I did. To our luck, the cloud itself was gradually diminishing, though for some, it might be too late. A decision had to be made. The helmet wouldn't fit on a unicorn since a hole for their horn wasn't included, but the sole pony of that kind held her own by creating a spell that completely cleared the air around her and one other pony who stood close by. I looked at the mare and her filly, still grasping one another in fear for their lives. The mother bawled her eyes out as she squeezed her foal close, thankful to still be alive. Glancing up, eyes full of tears, she sniffled out, "Th-thank you, s-sir." Though it likely was not discernible in the dark, a small smile crossed my muzzle. I gave a gentle nod in return. "Just doing my job," I responded, bringing the helmet to her as she coughed heavily afterwards. "Here, take this. It will help you breathe." The mare shifted her sights to the helmet, then up at me slowly. At first, she declined by pushing it back to me. However, I wasn't losing this argument, and so I firmly, yet gently placed it in her hoof and started to walk out onto the street to help with survivors. *** "What the hell just happened?!" Silver looked around, eyes widened fearfully and utterly confused. "Electromagnetic pulse!" responded Anchorage, flicking on a small flashlight with him and shining it in the passageway. With care in every step, he led Silver hastily to a lower deck and directly into a compartment adjoining the engine room, walls lined with circuit breakers that provided power to the entire ship. Clenching the end of the flashlight between his teeth, Anchorage twisted a knob and opened the panel. Sparks flew from inside, prompting the pegasus to swiftly shield his face as a couple of the orange particles bounced off his blouse. Upon closer inspection, he came to the conclusion that repairs on the breakers alone would keep him busy for some time. "Fuck!" he cursed through the flashlight still parting his maw. "What is it?" queried Silver, horn glowing a faint crimson hue that only barely cast a light around him. Despite it, much of his face remained shadowed by the bill of his cover. It sent a slight sense of worry to his soul when the stench of burning rubber filled the corridor. Anchorage's blood boiled, punching the wall beside the opened panel out of frustration, grunting after removing the flashlight from his teeth and pressing both forehooves on either side of the breaker, "Fuckin' hell, everything's fried!" "It's not beyond repair, right?" The pegasus gave a shake of his head, eyes narrowed on the wiring within. "No, nothing is beyond repair. It'll be some time before we have even a little bit of power restored, though." "You need me to do something, Anchor?" offered Silver, ready to do anything to help out his friend. Deeply sighing as he flicked some switches in an attempt to restart the generators, Anchorage replied, "Go make use of yourself, I'm sure somepony needs a hoof lent." The request came off as aggressive at first, though Silver knew better and let it slide in their present predicament. Anchorage was right, he didn't understand a thing of the pegasus' line of work and therefore was no help at that moment. The beige unicorn started down the corridor in a fast canter to search for somepony in need of his immediate aid. As he did, the pegasus' fellow division member trotted up with a toolbox and set it down. He stood slightly off to the side to give Anchorage some room while also closely examining the breaker and formulating his own solutions. "What are we looking like?" Gallant questioned, disregarding the horrid smell of a possible electrical fire and mentally waiting for flames to lick out of the paneling at any given moment. "Conductors and wiring seem to be intact for the most part, just short circuited from the EMP. Maybe we're a bit lucky here for being such close range," Anchorage replied, sifting his hoof around in search of something warm that would indicate further repairs. To his relief, nothing of such was discovered, and there was no apparent fire to be concerned about. "Gallant, grab me a fuse, will you?" he requested, sticking his hoof carefully inside and shuffling some of the bound wiring, shining his light within to find the source of some thin smoke emitting from deeper in should the cause exist elsewhere while minding a fire extinguisher within reach on his right. "On it!" responded the orange stallion, walking away to a small storage locker at the end of the compartment. As he did, however, his trots soon turned into stumbles, as if he were hungover on eight drinks. Except he wasn't, the floor was actually beginning to shift beneath him. Just then, everything started to slide to the left. It was as if the world was slowly flipping upside down. Anchorage's hooves lost grip and he also slipped against the wall, other sailors involuntarily falling victim throughout in the compartment. "What the fuck's happening?!" one shouted, shielding himself as tools and other loose objects pelted the wall around them as gravity shifted. Unbeknownst to sailors within the ship without access to a port hole to peek outside, a surge in ocean levels triggered by the explosion had begun to lift the Gibbous and start carrying it westward along with the Aphelion, which threatened to capsize as it climbed the wave sideways. Without power to control the ship apart from manual steering, which would not do them any justice in their current position, they were essentially at the mercy of the sea and its sudden fit of fury in the form of an enormous tidal wave that only grew larger as it spanned out from the source and gained momentum—and it was headed right for Equestria.