//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2 
// Story: Ponyville-class 
// by totallynotabrony 
//------------------------------//

	The old fishing boat held stationary, carefully positioned over the ley line.  On the bridge, the helmspony nervously watched a large haze-grey warship approach.  A powerful spotlight aboard the ship began to blink in their direction.
The pony was unable to read Morse Code, but knew what he was looking at.  He called to one of the others standing watch.  “Go get Star Show!”
Down in the boat’s cargo hold, a hemispherical bubble of built-up magic surrounded the circle that had been constructed on the grimy deck.  Smith watched with his arms crossed, waiting for his cue.
The door opened and one of the ponies that was supposed to be on duty at a bridge posting came in.  He hurried towards the circle.  Smith stepped forward and grabbed the stallion by the mane, jerking him backwards.
“I need to talk to Star!” the pony squeaked.
Smith struck him in the nose with the heel of his hand.  “Can’t you see he’s in the middle of the spell?  What kind of idiot are you?”
“We’ve got a situation,” the stallion wheezed, a small trickle of blood running out of one nostril.  Smith let him go and pointed at two of his men, snapping his fingers.  They nodded and followed the pony topside to see what the disturbance was.
Smith turned back to where the unicorns worked.  The spell was perhaps one of the most complicated that had ever been attempted by ponies.  The time, preparation, and coordination had all taken massive effort.  To think that one stupid underling had almost thrown it away.
Every magical effort required a certain amount of power.  Smith had studied pony capabilities extensively, and knew that each unicorn had varying magic talent.  Some were stronger than others.  The amount of power it would take to summon the Nightmare was unfathomable, completely impossible for any one pony.  Even with the group that was assembled, there was not enough raw magic to make it happen.  That was another reason why the spell was so complicated.
Inside the small suitcase in the center of the circle was a glass orb.  It had been crafted carefully and in great secret.  Prepared properly, it was the vessel in which an incredible amount of energy could be stored.  It would all be released at once in order to complete the spell.
In a different part of the boat, a man named Nolan mounted the stairs to the bridge.  He had wanted to stay and watch what the ponies were doing down below, but didn’t dare ignore an order from Mr. Smith.  He met up the pony steering the boat.  Nolan thought his name was Earthwork, but couldn’t remember for sure.
“What are we supposed to do?” asked the stallion, pointing to a large ship headed directly for them.
Nolan glanced at the warship, sizing up the sharp bow, weapons, and red-white-and-blue flag.  “Did they try to call you on the radio?”
“I haven’t heard anything,” said the pony.
The man glanced at the ancient electronics.  It took him a moment to figure out all the controls.  It took a little while longer to discover the volume was turned all the way down.  “Moron!  Of course you can’t hear anything!”
Earthwork was about to protest, but stopped short as Nolan turned up the radio.  “Unidentified vessel, this is USS Cushing.  Stand by for an inspection boarding.”
Nolan grabbed a pair of binoculars from the window sill and gazed at the destroyer through a faint drizzle that was beginning to fall.  He could see a few men moving around.  It looked like they were armed.  He grimaced, but at least they were still on their own ship.  Seconds after Nolan had that thought, he saw several men getting into a small boat.  That would be the boarding party.
Leaving Earthwork where he was, Nolan dashed down to the cargo hold.  Mr. Smith wouldn’t like being interrupted, but he would like a surprise visit by the US Navy even less.  “Boss, we have a problem.”
Nolan quickly explained the situation, finishing with, “We’ve got guys with guns headed our way.”
“Don’t you have guns, too?” asked a unicorn.
Smith nodded.  “Nolan, get everyone ready to go.”  Turning to the pony who had spoken, he said, “And get everypony who can hurt something moving, too.”
Against his better judgment, Nolan asked, “Boss, is it smart to try and fight them?”
Smith gave him an acid look.  “If that’s what it takes, then do it.  We can’t let them interrupt the spell.”
Nolan left quickly, taking a deep breath.  If Smith hadn’t needed all able crew to help defend the boat, Nolan’s question would have probably gotten him in trouble.   The subordinate felt as if he’d dodged a bullet.  Maybe literally.


★


On the bridge of Cushing, Lieutenant Junior Grade Sampson chewed his lip.  The dead-in-the-water fishing boat had completely ignored any radio hails.  He’d ordered the signalmen to try the Morse light.  That had yet to achieve results, and he was growing irritated.
Through the Big Eyes binoculars, a little bit of activity could be seen.  A few ponies and a few men appeared to be on board.  They didn’t look like they were in distress, so it was a mystery why they hadn’t responded to the radio.
“Should we call the CO, sir?” asked a young Seaman who was working at the plotting table.
Sampson thought about it for a moment.  He knew the Commanding Officer was currently in his rack having a nap.  Better to wait just a little longer.  He wasn’t about to go completely, unprepared, however.  “Leave him be for now, but get the boats ready.”
The call came down to the armory to gear up.  PO2 Bryant looked up from the old issue of Guns & Ammo Chief Harker had lent him.  Since there weren’t a general quarters alarm going off, it probably wasn’t too serious a call.  Still, it paid to be prepared, which was why he was already at the armory.
Bryant got up as other men came in.  Members of Small Caliber Action Team pulled M240B machine guns and M16A3 rifles out of the weapon lockers.  The Visit, Board, Search, and Seizure people grabbed M4A1 carbines and M590 shotguns, and began to put on knee pads, helmets, and ballistic vests.
Lieutenant Martin showed up, looking as if he had just been pulled from a nap.  He observed as the men prepared for possible action.  While he was technically off duty, any time SCAT and VBSS geared up, Martin liked to be there.  He sometimes yearned to go with them and do something exciting, rather than be stuck aboard the destroyer.
A light sprinkle of rain was beginning to fall topside.  It wasn’t a serious problem, but word was passed to every man just in case.  It paid to know as much as possible about the situation.  All the men getting ready to go out had previous experience with boarding parties and knew what to expect.  They were trained and well practiced.
“SCAT to deck positions,” came word from the 1MC.  Bryant and seven others filed out of the armory.  Two men carried M240Bs.  Two men carried ammunition for the machine guns.  The other four were armed with rifles.
The misty rain was still coming down.  Bryant checked to make sure the machine gunners got their weapons set up in the mounts attached to the ship’s railing.  They pointed the barrels to the sky to appear less threatening and dropped plastic bags over to keep water out.
Bryant took a moment to examine the fishing boat that was causing the fuss.  It was still perhaps half a mile away.  He squinted.  It was hard to tell through the weather, but it looked like there was movement on the decks.
A few minutes passed, and the first VBSS team came out.  The six men boarded one of Cushing’s small motor launches and were lowered into the water.  A second team stayed on call in case backup was needed.
Meanwhile, the destroyer had been steadily drawing closer to the stationary fishing boat.  The distance was short enough that Bryant could now see several crew members milling about.  It looked like a mixed human-pony bunch.  It didn’t look like they were in distress, so the boarding party must be going for some other reason.  Bryant idly tapped his M16A3’s magazine, just checking.
The launch reached the fishing boat.  The crew did not help the VBSS team come aboard, and in fact appeared unfriendly.  Bryant couldn’t hear the words, but it looked like the Navy men were having some kind of argument with the fishing boat crew.  One of them pushed a sailor.
PO2 Bryant heard the machine gun crew closest to him muttering at the sight of the assault.  They strung a belt of ammunition into the weapon and made it ready.  The Petty Officer chambered a round into his rifle and his thumb moved the selector lever off safe.
Seconds later, the unmistakable sound of a shot echoed across the water.  One of the sailors from the VBSS team staggered and fell to the deck.  
Bryant had been taught to stay cool under pressure.  He was trained with weapons to use careful, accurate fire.  Seemingly by itself, however, his thumb moved the selector lever to the next position: automatic.