Horseshoe Bay was twenty-three thousand square miles of dark sea, an inlet where the Lunar Sea funneled in towards the mouth of the Maresippi. The city of Ponyville lay a further twelve miles west downriver. To the north of the bay lay the Everfree Forest; to the south was a Navy depot, built over the ruins of the one that had been destroyed by the North Griffon Navy early during the Crystal War.
Tonight, this far out from any land beneath a cloud-choked sky, the water was still and dark. Tendrils of fog clung to the water’s surface, reducing visibility to only a few yards in any direction, motionless amidst the windless night. A small, rust-coated sailboat slowly cruised along the water, its chugging motor sounding disproportionately loud in the silence of the bay. Four figures stood atop the deck, all of them armed with rifles and shotguns.
“You sure we shouldn’t have gotten a Navy escort?” the small blue earth pony whispered to his companion, head panning back and forth across the water, searching for any sign of another ship bearing down on them from the fog.
“You know they would’ve searched us,” the zebra pilot grunted from the wheel, tossing his head to shake his long, beaded dreadlocks out of his eyes and adjusting the strap on his imitation Thrussian assault rifle. His southern Sereneighti accent bit into every syllable with an almost contemptuous tone as he spoke. “How do you plan on explaining the bags of fresh whoonga in the hold? That we just found them?”
“But you know who patrols these waters,” the pony whimpered, flinching at the mere thought. “And we haven’t paid her fees! If she catches us—”
“The ‘Ghost Ship of Horseshoe Bay’ is one ship,” the zebra replied, placing a sneering emphasis on the title. “It can’t cover the entire bay by itself...if it even exists. I mean, c’mon.” He snorted. “An invisible Navy warship? It’s just a legend she came up with to scare off rivals on the drug scene. We’ll be fine.” He glared at his companion. “Besides, you wanna go back and explain to the boss that we stole some of his best drugs to sell for ourselves?”
The earth pony’s green-gold eyes darted back towards the east and he swallowed. “No…” he said slowly.
“Then shut up and keep a lookout, or I’ll give you something to be really scared of,” the zebra snarled. The pony swallowed and turned away, his head still scanning back and forth. He saw nothing but walls of fog around and silent water beneath. Neither the bow nor the stern lookouts registered anything, standing calmly at their positions with their weapons ready, rocking steadily with the boat. His thoughts went to below, not to the boxes of packed drugs, but to the rest of their crew waiting beneath and the pair of rocket launchers stored in the secret deck compartment.
For a minute, there was only the sound of the motor pushing the ship along its westward journey.
Then, a great explosion of fire and noise cut the sailboat in two, sending splinters and wreckage flying from an erupting plume of water. Even before the water settled back onto the surface, the two halves of the boat had sunk beneath the surface, taking their passengers and illicit cargo with them. Within mere moments, the only sign that there had ever been a ship was the smell of gunpowder and a few planks idly floating in the bay, smoke still rising from them. No survivors bobbed back up to the surface.
Lowering her binoculars, Captain Whitestone clicked her tongue, shaking her head as she stood on the bridge of the Talon. Smoke rose from the barrel of the massive 5-inch Mark VI cannon on the foredeck. “Disrespect, Bluewater,” she growled. “That’s what it is. Wasn’t so long ago that no ship dared come into the Bay without either a Navy escort or paying the fee.”
“Captain, was using the cannon wise?” Bluewater frowned. “We’re short on ammo as it is, and that ship couldn’t have had more than a dozen of them on there.”
“I didn’t want to risk a gunfight,” Whitestone stated curtly, glancing up at the amulet on the mast, the precious metal tapping against the pole rhythmically. The red eye glinted at her, promising them protection from any who would oppose them. “And besides,” she grinned at the still-smoking cannon. “I love hearing that, even if no one else can.”
Bluewater shrugged after a beat. “If you say so, captain.”
“Any word on Roaring?” Whitestone asked, one claw reaching down to the pouch on her side. The two scrolls were still safely tucked inside.
“Yes, cap’n,” Bluewater nodded. “He thinks he and the crew can move on Twilight and the lizard tomorrow night.”
“Good,” Whitestone smirked, nodding as she patted the pouch. “I was starting to think the gods had forsaken us, but their vision made sense. Once we have her and her parents, we can get Lazarus translated. And then we’ll be on top again.” Her grin widened with elation. “Oh, I can’t wait to have Phillip and Daring on the team.”
“They have to be dead first,” Bluewater pointed out.
“In time,” Whitestone replied, waving down her second mate’s concerns. “In time.”
“Au revoir, mon cherie,” Scarlet Letter cooed, kissing Silver Fortune on the lips as her lover departed out the front door of her little cottage. “I shall count the minutes until our next rendezvous.”
“I shall as well,” Silver smiled, giving her lover one last nuzzle. “And thank you again for hooking us up with Mister Dorata. You saved my company.”
“The least I could do in exchange for a few wonderful nights,” Scarlet winked. “Now, run along to your husband.”
Silver trotted off, blowing one last kiss at her as she hurried up to the cab that Scarlet had called for her, climbing into the back seat. Scarlet stood and watched as the taxi disappeared down the lamp-lit street, vanishing into the night.
“Nice piece of ass there, ma’am,” the Cerberus security guard standing post on the porch grinned.
Scarlet just scowled and rolled her eyes as she walked back inside, locking the door behind her. She proceeded down to the bedroom, smiling to herself as she studied the mussed sheets, still smelling of roses and cherry blossoms.
She glanced out the window and satisfied herself that the guard in the backyard was occupied in a crossword puzzle, then turned to the tall mirror in the corner, touching the gems embedded in the border: blue, green, blue, and red. The mirror glowed with a faint light and she stepped through the glass, reemerging in their armory.
“Where are we now?” she asked, striding towards the group of ponies standing around the table, staring down at a map of Ponyville.
“We’re starting to make headway into the Dockside District,” Bright Sparks reported, cradling Endeavor in her foreleg as she studied the maps, moving the colored pawns back and forth. “We've got intelligence on a few more of the Disciples' drug caches and we'll be planning a hit on them soon; destroy the drugs, and the Disciples and Whitestone lose money and can't pay their underlings.”
“Our contact is keeping the statue of Tirek safe where you want it,” Dusty Tail nodded. “Though, if you don’t mind me saying, ma’am, this dark magic stuff seems a bit…” He frowned. “Like we’re tampering with things we don’t fully understand. It's high-risk; you sure it'll pay off?”
“Fret not, mon ami; my master knows whereof he speaks,” Scarlet replied, pulling a cigarette and her personal holder out of her tail pouch and lighting the tip of the cigarette with her magic. The delicate scent of Prench tobacco, chocolate, and roses soon filled the room, tickling at everypony’s nostrils. “What about Zugzwang?”
“Nopony’s seen or heard from him since the…” Black Licorice paused to adjust the rosary beads around her neck. “Incident at the police station two weeks ago.”
“Good riddance, I say,” Red Licorice grunted. “We didn’t need him anyway.”
Scarlet frowned at the map, every exhalation smelling of perfumed Prench tobacco, then turned and looked at the painting on the easel in the corner. The Treachery of Images stared back at her, the boat and perplexing image hiding its true message.
“I’m still working on Artiste Fou’s notes,” she stated, striding towards the painting and looking down at the mass of journals and scrap paper stacked high on the table next to it. “But there’s a problem: I’m stuck on one section. My master has tried to help, but we require another reference.” She paused. “I need a copy of the Kyaltratek.”
“Shame that Professor Tome left town two weeks ago,” Dusty Tail shrugged.
“There’s a copy in the Royal Library in Canterlot,” Scarlet mused.
“It’s connected to the palace,” Sparks pointed out. “Getting in there won’t be easy—”
There was a sudden flash of golden light over the table, prompting the entire crew to jump back with a shout. A scroll had landed right on top of the map, scattering pieces everywhere.
Sledgehammer slowly leaned forward and picked up the scroll in his magic, unfurling it. He studied the writing on it for a moment, then scowled.
“A note?” Scarlet asked, looking over his shoulder.
“I know that writing,” Sledgehammer snarled, balling the scroll up. “We don’t need anything more from him.” He threw the paper towards a nearby trash can.
But before the paper could fall in, a scarlet aura grasped it and pulled it back. Scarlet reopened the paper and studied the message upon it, brow furrowed in intense thought.
“You can’t seriously be thinking about—” Sledgehammer started to protest.
“Hush,” Scarlet interrupted, her eyes still on the note. After a few more moments of silence, she nodded.
“I believe I have a contact in Canterlot I should reacquaint myself with.”