It doesn't take much to send a pony, or group of ponies, over the edge. Not enough sleep. Poor quality of life... Something as simple as the food they eat. One of these alone will not cause a collapse in a chain of command, but mix a plethora of these issues with isolation, sprinkled with an exorbitant amount of time away from home, and you've got one nasty cocktail of displeasure.
Normally, this can be managed. Shorter ship tours, better quality food, a kind and affable command staff, and a constant influx of mail and gifts from family. Simple luxuries like hot showers, soft beds, and small treats like candy and chips go extremely far in improving a military pony's mood. And when those things are lacking, one usually has their fellow sailors to fall back on. Card games, friendly competition, and general fraternization do wonders to improve morale.
Now, ask yourself. What happens when all of these things are stripped away?
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The bridge of a Thunderhead is, under normal conditions, much like an office. Everypony has a job to do, and they perform it to the best of their ability. The sheer size of the vessel, at 78 meters wide and 337 meters long, afforded a large, but protected bridge.
But much like an office, toxicity can spread like a disease, depending on it's source. Somepony lower on the totem pole is easily disciplined, and even those in management roles can be brought to heel. But when it's somepony at the top of the ladder raining shit on those below, things easily get out of hoof.
Such was the case with one Captain Ironhoof. After the war had ended, the Grand Pegasus Enclave had clambered to control their newly formed government and vast military resources after they had been spurned by Rainbow Dash. The resulting reform could be called overzealous, severely limiting and cutting back on luxuries in the face of post-war scarcity. Ironhoof embodied this new regime to a fault, holding the belief that only through strict discipline and rigorous dedication to the new protocol that the Enclave would survive.
Being granted command of one of the only fully operational Thunderhead class vessels, christened the Cirrostratus, exacerbated this issue further, with the arrogant stallion holding monthly physical fitness tests that were far harsher than any his crew had taken before. While full nights of sleep had been a rarity before his command, they were non-existent afterwards. Watch shifts had gone from four hours to eight, on top of normal duties for the crew.
Raptor crews would be sent on long patrol sorties, only being permitted to return to the Cirrostratus after a minimum of a month spent below the clouds, often running on a small skeleton crew.
Food and clean water on board were rationed heavily, with most of the onboard sailors only receiving up to a single meal a day. Showers were also in short supply due to the rationing, often restricted to under a minute or less, in addition to heated showers being afforded to officers exclusively.
These factors, alongside numerous other shortcomings among both the command staff of the Cirrostratus, and Enclave military command at large, lead to the events that occurred on the date of August 18th, 2090, Collectively referred to in the following years as...
The Rogue Thunderhead incident.
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8/15/2090 09:00, Approx 7 miles off of the coast of Manehattan.
Ironhoof sat with his command staff on an elevated portion of the bridge, positioned above the rest of the bridge crew. Various screens and control terminals dominated the room, faintly glowing wires running across the walls, linking the systems in the CIC to the bridge's various computers and consoles. The murmur of an occasional pony talking to themselves or giving an update to their fellows could be faintly heard, while outside the window, you could see the faintest glimpse of a brewing storm not too far ahead of the massive vessel.
Looking towards his second in command, his rough, gravelly voice rang out. "Veil, any updates on that rogue storm?"
The dark grey stallion shook his head, his blue mane shaking slightly from the motion. "No Sir, other than a higher than normal energy output it's stayed the same." His eyes furrowed, as he bit the inside of his cheek. "There isn't a way around it either, Sir. Our only options are to either steam through it or wait it out."
The Captain huffed, watching a light rainfall pattering against the reinforced glass windows. The occasional loud, thunderous BOOM could be heard from agitated storm clouds, while in the dry bridge the sounds of terminal keyboards being tapped and various instruments being operated contrasting the outside ambiance. "And you're sure that our ponies can’t clear it out, Thundercracker?" He asked, a hint of agitation apparent in his tone.
Veil shook his head, replying tersely. "No Sir. Not unless you want to deploy power armor units, and there is a high risk of those suits getting damaged." Pointing to the monitor he was sat at with a wing, he continued. "We tracked that storm all the way from the Everfree and the energy readings for it are more volatile than any storm we've seen. Individual clouds can range anywhere from a guppy, to approximately three times the strength of our strongest lightning clouds." He shrugged. "Unless you want to risk vital resources to bust it, we either have to fly right through it, or sit tight."
Letting out a low growl, the stone gray pony glared at the storm ahead. "Fine then," he shouted out to the helmsponies. "All ahead full! We will reach Baltimare by the end of next week, storm or no storm!" Though he didn't hear it, the entirety of the bridge staff let out a barely audible snort.
The quartermaster, a deep navy-blue mare named Astral Star, rolled her eyes. "Aye Sir. Around the horn it is then." Brushing a lock of white mane out of her way, she dug into a small drawer, waving the head helmspony, Shephard, over. Pulling out a large chart, she began setting the new course and charting the best path through the large maelstrom ahead.
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8/15/2090, 12:00, 7 miles off of the coast of Manehattan.
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Low panting and huffing could be heard throughout the room, echoing off the walls and mingling with the ambient hum of machinery, against the background of the nearly silent air conditioning units periodically placed throughout the ship.
Pushing against the metallic floor of the recreation center with her wings, an azure mare let out one final heave upwards before flopping onto her back. Other than a stallion sitting a few hooves away from her, this floor of the center was empty. Bushy black hair shocked with blue fell upon her face as she breathed heavily, sweat dripping down her body.
"How many did I get this time, Ace?" She asked, looking at the tall, jet black stallion sitting down near a rack of weights, squinting from the lights above her.
The stallion tutted, the bright light above reflecting off of his short, stark white mane. "157 wing-ups and counting, Aquila. Looks like both of us will still make the top of the monthly PRT, as usual." Standing up, he trotted over to the prone mare and lightly tapped her side with a hoof. "Come on now, get up ya lazy girl. We still need to go check about our armor, Sprocket says she's got our suits fixed."
Groaning audibly, the blue pegasus clambered to her hooves. "Ugh, Do I have to? The floor is so comfortable!" She exclaimed dramatically, dragging herself over to her locker. AQUILA NATUS was etched into a small plate on the door, it's owner fumbling with a small padlock on the side for a moment before it clicked.
Pulling the door open, she reached inside the locker without looking. Retrieving a large dark grey jacket with a patch of a double-headed eagle emblazoned onto the shoulders, she struggled with it briefly, finally slipping her wings and hooves through after a time.
Aerial Ace chuckled, already snug in a jacket of his own. A small image of a pair of extended wings adorned his, and if you looked closely you could barely see the various repairs, marked by patchwork fabrics and stray sewing thread made to the jacket over time.
The two began walking, almost dragging themselves towards the exit. Both of their faces were marred with sweat and there were barely visible bags under their eyes.
As they passed into the hall, Ace looked down at his superior officer, the mare slouching and still breathing heavily from her previous bout of exertion. "Did you hear? We're heading right into that storm soon." Ace let a small grin slip onto his countenance, before whispering in Aquila's ear. "You and I both know what that means. No comms, and we'll be completely off the radar... anything could happen."
Chuckling, the mare straightened her posture, striding forward with renewed vigor. "Reminds me of a story I heard as a filly. An old frigate had sailed into a freak storm right around here and it's entire crew perished because of their captain's decision to go around The Horn. It's said that their hatred was so great that the ship, and its crew, were raised from the deep as spirits... and it is also said that they still haunt the waves to this day." Giving Ace a mischievous smile, she continued walking forward. "If I recall correctly... That ship’s name was the Mendacious."
Matching her tempo, he gave her a nod, mirroring her expression. "That there's a damn fine story. I'll be sure to tell the boys and the rest of the crew about it... though I had heard that the ship’s name was the Profundity."
As the two trotted briskly through the long corridors, occasionally having to crouch through the various doors between sections of the ship, they arrived at a small stairwell. The muffled sound of shouting ponies and heavy machinery echoed as the two pegasi slowly descended the stairs, walking down a much dirtier corridor. They could see a few hoofprints on the metal floor left in occasional puddles of oil. Multiple large doors lined the corridor, marking various storage rooms and workshops.
Approaching a large door, Aquila turned the wheel in its center, the locking mechanism rolling back. Once the door was unlocked, she pushed against the large metal object. The door creaked and groaned in protest, but opened to reveal a sprawling hangar bay. Pegasi rushed to and fro, their superiors rushing their subordinates with raised voices, shouting various obscenities and jargon that Aquila couldn't wrap her head around. Thirty-two Vertibucks sat on this level of the hangar bay alone, all organized into a neat row on each side of the bay, with another thirty-two on the level below. Nearly every variant of the Vertibuck was loaded on the Cirrostratus for this deployment, the exception being the CV-2 configuration.
Scanning the expanse of the hangar, Ace and Aquila finally spotted their target. They were working on one of many powered armor suits in a long line, their respiratory units sitting in a neat pile some 5 hooves away.
Ace waved at the pony, shouting loudly over the roar of machines and bustling noise alike. "'Ey Sprocket!" The pony who was wearing dark blue overalls turned to the source of the noise, a large welding mask concealing her facial features.
Flicking the welding mask up with an orange hoof revealed the face of the mare, her glasses slightly askew. Darker shades of orange and freckles were dappled across her face, and messy dark blue hair was kept out of the way by a turquoise bandana. The lanyard she was wearing bore a dog tag, the name SPROCKET WRENCH engraved into the metal, along with her birth date. "Oi, 'Ello there, luvs! Took ya long enough!" Sprocket said with a cheeky, mirthful voice and a wide grin across her face as she waved the pair of marines over.
Briskly trotting over, occasionally bumping into a pony rushing to and fro inside the bustling hangar bay, Ace brought the small, portly mare into a hug, giving her a noogie. "Hey there Sprocks, Y'Said you had our suits done?" Releasing his friend, Ace stepped back and walked over to a suit of armor painted a jet black, his face being reflected in the sheen of the armor. A dark crimson glass stared back at him as he looked up to the helmet, barely able to see the camera lenses that lay behind the screen.
Walking over to the black stallion, Sprocket yawned deeply, the mechanic having obvious, dark bags under her eyes. "Yea', all the servos are fully operational again." Gesturing with a hoof towards the small energy lasers mounted on the side of the suit, she continued. "These lil' fillies are all good as well, just needed some... minor repair work."
Peeking her head over Ace's shoulder, Aquila nodded. "Yeah. This is some damn fine work, Though I doubt they needed more than just 'minor' repair work... that, to me, sounds like a load of donkey balls."
The mechanic's eyes flashed with recognition, as she mouthed a silent 'Oh'. "Ah okay, now that I think about it, all of the marines suits need a day or two more in the shop. I'll get my team on it; In the meantime, why don't you get those crayon munchers of yours in shape? The coming storm will probably be rough on ol’ Cirry here."
The two marines nodded, the three ponies sharing a knowing glance.
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8/15/2090, 19:00, 5 miles off the coast of Manehattan.
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The dimly lit mess hall reeked of melancholy, one of the dimly lit lights occasionally flickering as power was routed away from the kitchen for the night. The occasional clink of a plate being tossed into a sink echoed throughout the empty cafeteria, and you could faintly hear the rumbling of dishwashers and hooves gently clopping throughout the room.
Under one of these flickering lights, at a worn and well-used table, sat a pair of pegasi. One was wearing a large, stained, black apron. A chin with cinnamon brown stubble was matted in sweat, just like the dreadlocks upon its owners head. Feathers brushed against fur as his wings fidgeted. A dijon yellow hoof tapped the table impatiently, much to the chagrin of the pony on the other end of the table.
His companion was likewise equally disheveled. Her black mane was tied heavily into a ponytail behind her head, and much of her light grey fur was concealed by a bright orange safety jacket. A pair of glasses sat off to the side of her plate of steamed vegetables, untouched by the fork sat by a gloved hoof a few inches away.
The pair sat in silence for a short while, the silence being broken by the apron-clad pegasus. "So, Quick, you hear that story that's been going around?" He said with a soft timbre to his voice, raising a sunken eyebrow at the pony in front of him.
Quick Fix scoffed, picking up her fork and idly poking her vegetables as they cooled down. There was still a touch of residual steam left to waft upwards, as the scent of dried herbs made their way into her nose. "Yes, Sous. What of it?" Gently lifting her fork to her lips with a wing, she took a bite of her food, her eyes closed in satisfaction as her stomach rumbled.
Sous Vide looked around the room warily, as if searching for something... or somepony. "You mean to tell me you don't care? You ain't concerned at all about what's comin'?” The muscles in his foreleg tensed as he struggled to control his nervous fidgeting, his ear beginning to twitch in lieu of the hoof.
The mare chewed her food for a second before swallowing it, she looked at the neurotic chef through lidded violet eyes, her expression deadpan. "There was an old saying my mother used to say in times of hardship," Her tone was soft but calculated as she spoke, betraying no emotion. The engineer looked at her fork intently, turning it over slowly between her feathers, her eyes catching on the small glints of light reflecting off of the metal. "'This too shall pass.' Fitting, is it not?" Stabbing her fork quickly into another clump of carrots and broccoli, she continued. "Ultimately, I don't care. My job is to keep this ship operational and I will perform that duty to the best of my abilities... Regardless of the circumstance."
The mustard pegasus cracked his neck, scanning the stoic mare’s face for any signs of deceit or fear; but he found none. Licking his lips, Sous gave a terse nod. "Awright then. Get some rest, we've got a busy few days ahead of us, you hear?" He said, softly patting her back, before walking off to the barracks.
As the shorter pegasus left the room, Quick gave a small smile as she lifted the fork to her lips, blowing on the vegetables to cool them down. Chewing slowly, she thought solemnly to herself. "This too shall pass; As all things do."