Author note: This is another story in the Battleships Universe. Reading the rest of the series is not required for backstory. Thanks to everyone who demanded this story and helped iron out the format before submission
Ponyville-class
May, 2005
Pacific Ocean, east of Japan
The old fishing boat creaked and groaned as it plowed through the choppy seas. It had far exceeded its intended life, and only rust seemed to be holding it together now.
Two ponies and a man stood on the bridge, watching the clouds roll in. The morning had started out sunny, but the weather was rapidly changing.
The pale earth pony at the wheel struggled both with the heavy ocean swells and also with the controls that had been designed for hands. He braced his hooves on the filthy deck plates and stared grimly through the windshield.
Behind him, the other two occupants of the bridge conversed in low voices. Their tone was somewhat worried, although anger carried through. Some excitement as well.
“Of all the days for a storm front to move through,” muttered the pony, a dark grey unicorn named Star Show. His cutie mark was a depiction of a galaxy.
“Let’s just get it done,” said the man. He crossed his arms over his t-shirt. “We’ve been waiting too long to let a little weather get in the way.”
The stallion nodded, his mouth almost smiling. The man, Smith, was not particularly likeable, but he got things done. Star could appreciate anypony, or rather anyone, who was so efficient. Sometimes brutally so.
“Uh, Mr. Show?” said the pony at the helm. “I think we’re almost there.”
A small Global Positioning System receiver had been set up beside the wheel. The device's sleek modern design clashed with everything else on the bridge. The GPS’s screen displayed a set of coordinates and the old boat’s location. Their destination was close.
Star nodded. “Mr. Smith, get things set up.”
“Are you good to go?” asked the man, gesturing to the bridge controls. There were not many real sailors aboard, and the old boat certainly wasn’t very easy to operate.
“We’ll take care of it,” said Star tersely. Smith nodded and turned to leave. Down one deck, he found three men lounging around a table and playing cards. They looked up as he came in.
Smith snapped his fingers and his three cohorts jumped up and followed him. None of them knew his real name, but all were loyal enough to instantly respond to his orders. Any man who claimed to be on the verge of harnessing magic for human use and had enough evidence to back up that claim was someone to pay attention to. It didn’t hurt that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot anyone who disobeyed him.
In the next compartment, more people and dozens of ponies were working. The old fishing boat’s storage deck had been cleaned out, although the smell of fish still lingered. A small leather suitcase had been placed in the center of the space, and precise chalk lines had been drawn radiating from it.
Most of the ponies were unicorns, although a few pegasi and an earth pony or two were also present. They all came from different backgrounds, and had a variety of colors and cutie marks. The only thing they had in common was their goal.
Smith observed the proceedings for a while. Everything had to be perfect. Everything had to work. If all the preparations came together like they should, the universe would be a very different place by the end of the day.
It was not simple magic that would be performed, and it had taken years to put together the spell. Ingredients had not been easy or quick to obtain. More than one researcher had died in their attempts to plot out the spell that would be taking place soon.
The price was high, but the payoff would be incredible. Smith smiled a little to himself. Scientists had been working to figure out how pony magic worked ever since the dimensional doorways between worlds had been opened. Soon, very soon, it would no longer be a mystery.
Up on the bridge, Star watched the helmspony carefully. The light-colored earth pony seemed nervous, both for the weather and for the event that would soon be taking place below deck. Star wondered if he was having second thoughts. If so, a swift death and unmarked grave at sea awaited him. There was no room for wavering loyalty.
Star nodded at a pony that he trusted somewhat more to take over the unicorn's place on the bridge watch and headed down to join Smith. The preparations for the complicated spell were well underway, and should be completed by the time the boat reached its destination.
A unicorn with a little training could locate natural sources of magic. With a little practice, it was possible to draw energy from them. On Earth, the naturally-occurring currents were usually referred to as ley lines. Until the emergence of ponies, most people had scoffed at their existence. The boat was currently on track to intercept one such line. It would help add power to the spell.
Such a multilayered and intricate piece of magic drew energy from several sources. The unicorns performing it would add some, as well as a few artifacts that had been brought aboard. The main source, however, would be messy.
“How’s the little one doing?” Star asked quietly.
The spell-worker next to him glanced at a locked door nearby. “She went quiet about an hour ago. Probably thinks this is just a foalnapping.”
Star nodded. Turning to Smith, he asked, “Do you have the blade?”
Irritated, the man pointed to a small wood box sitting on a table next to six glass vials. “You think I would be so stupid as to forget something like that?”
The unicorn didn’t appreciate his tone, but knew this was not the time to make a big deal out of it. “All right. I’m going to make one last check.”
Star went over to the suitcase lying on the floor. He opened it, gazing inside for a moment. A lot of work had gone in to finding the perfect thing to make the spell work. Closing the lid, he checked to make sure the six chalk lines on the deck were perfect. On his cue, the glass vials from the table were brought over. Each contained a hair. They had come from six different ponies, and were a variety of colors and textures.
Each strand of hair was positioned carefully. Star inspected them, and gave the signal to proceed with the spell. The unicorns that would be powering the magic, Star included, stepped forward and formed a ring. Slowly, each began to feed magic into the circle. It had to be carefully balanced, and in perfect coordination.
Smith stood outside the group of ponies. His place in the spell would come soon. He watched the unicorns work, feeling eager to take his place with those that could do magic. It would be soon. He had been promised that.
The Nightmare, when it came, would be very generous to those who had helped it.
★
The weather report indicated that there would be heavy seas, but relatively light rain. Lieutenant James Martin studied the computer printout for a moment before putting it down and going back to staring out the bridge windows.
The destroyer, USS Cushing, could handle rough seas well enough. At more than 560 feet long, she certainly had the bulk to muscle through waves. The sharp bow and relatively svelte beam let her easily cut through heavy swells and made the ship more akin to old-school cruisers than other destroyers.
Martin glanced at the radar repeater on the bridge. There was some long-range traffic out there, nothing too out of the ordinary. Cushing’s homeport in Japan usually had her patrolling the calm western Pacific. Except when deployed to the Middle East, the ship rarely saw action of any kind.
The Lieutenant checked his wristwatch. If another few minutes passed, his bridge watchstanding relief would be late. He had things to do and didn’t like to wait. Fortunately, Lieutenant Junior Grade Sampson appeared just then and formally relieved Martin.
“Anything happen?” asked Sampson, after dropping his salute.
“Nothing,” Martin told him. He left the bridge, heading for the Combat Information Center. This was the compartment deep in the heart of the ship where all the weapons and systems were operated from. The lights inside were dim and the air-conditioning was turned up to protect the sensitive computer equipment.
Martin’s main task aboard Cushing was Strike Officer. While there was rarely a time that weapons had to be used, it was his job to make sure everything would work when it needed to. He scanned a clipboard, checking that inspections had been done. The two five-inch guns, two anti-missile gatling guns, eight-cell Sea Sparrow anti-air missile launcher, two quadruple Harpoon anti-ship missile canisters, two triple torpedo tubes, 21-cell Rolling Airframe anti-air missile launcher, and the 61-cell Tomahawk missile launcher all appeared to be in working condition.
It was a lot of firepower. Cushing, like other Spurance-class destroyers, was primarily configured for land attack and anti-submarine work. There were few ships in the world that were so capable, despite their age. Cushing had been built in 1976 and was scheduled for decommissioning later in the year. It was Martin’s first ship, and he was somewhat sad to know that she wouldn’t be serving the US Navy much longer.
Petty Officer Second Class Edward Bryant approached. “Sir, can I take that report for you?”
Martin nodded and handed the sailor the inspection paperwork. Bryant had actually been in the Navy longer, and was contemplating a third enlistment period.
The Petty Officer carried the report down to the armory where the smaller weapons were kept. He handed the papers to Chief Harker, who was in charge of the armory.
“Any plans for when we pull back in to port?” asked Harker, adding the armory’s information to the report with a pen.
Bryant shrugged. “Not really, Chief. Maybe take a weekend in Equestria with the wife.”
“Make sure you get to the terminal early,” warned Harker. “Yokosuka gets a lot of traffic through the portals.”
“That’s what I hear.” Bryant had visited Equestria before, always on personal time. There were some larger dimensional doorways that could fit vehicles through. None were large enough to accommodate a ship, though, so it seemed unlikely he would ever travel there on Navy business.
The 1MC, the ship-wide address system, turned on. “Lieutenant Martin to the bridge.”
In the Combat Information Center, Martin grumbled. Either the oncoming watchstanders had a question or he had forgotten to do something before turning over the watch. He left the CIC and headed topside.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Sampson looked up as Martin walked in. “One of the contacts on radar is acting strangely. Did you notice any of that on your watch?”
Martin glanced at the radar screen, looking at where LTJG Sampson pointed. “What do you mean ‘strangely’?”
“It was on a straight and steady course, and now it’s stopped dead in the water.” Sampson nodded to the radio controls. “We haven’t heard anything about it.”
Martin looked at Cushing’s track. If nothing changed, they would pass within three miles of the stationary ship. He shrugged and settled in to wait.
The contact didn’t move. It also didn’t appear to be radiating any radar of its own. That could be dangerous, as the crew aboard wouldn’t have any way of seeing other ships except by using their eyes. Sampson and Martin stepped out onto the bridge wing where the twenty-power “Big Eyes” binoculars were mounted.
Sampson examined the stationary vessel through the binoculars. “Fishing boat. That’s why they’re stopped.”
Martin nodded, and moved forward to put his eyes to the lens pieces. He saw a run-down boat with cranes and winches on the aft deck that were used for hauling heavy catches. Something was missing, though. He looked at Sampson. “Where are their nets?
“I’ll go call them. Maybe they have a problem,” said Sampson. He returned to the bridge and picked up the radio.
Martin, deciding that the other man had things under control, left the bridge again. On the way to his berth, he encountered Petty Officer Second Class Bryant again. He almost passed by without saying anything, but a nagging feeling made him stop and call after the sailor.
PO2 Bryant turned. “Yes, sir?”
“There’s something going on at the moment,” said Martin. “It’s probably not going to amount to anything, but be ready just in case we call for SCAT and VBSS.”
“Aye, sir.” Bryant nodded and went on his way. The Small Caliber Action Team and the Vist, Board, Search, and Seizure group supported boarding actions when sailors from the destroyer had to check up on other ships. Generally, such things were just a precaution.
Still, if the Lieutenant was worried, Bryant figured that he’d better go hang out at the armory.
★
On the bridge of the fishing boat, the pony at the helm squinted at the grey shape on the horizon. He’d steered a true course to the correct destination, and now was holding steady. He didn’t like the look of the ship that was coming their way.
The old boat bobbed in the waves as it held position. It had none of the modern gear like radar, otherwise the stallion would have known about other traffic in the area without having to actually see it. Maybe they could get one of the pegasi airborne to keep lookout, the pony thought.
While he was distracted, he didn’t notice that the volume knob on the two-way radio was turned too low to hear any incoming messages.