November 8th, 1984, 0900 hours
Szeregowy Franek Kociniak
Polish People's Army
Port of Gdynia, back on Earth
"It's bloody freezing," the British sailor next to Franek complained, "you mind giving me a light? Lighter fucked itself over."
Franek didn't understand the English language very well, but with the sailor's frustrated look with a cigarette in his mouth, he assumed the Englishman wanted someone to light his smoke. He took out his box of matches and tried to burn one, but the wind with the snow combined did him no favors.
"Fuck, can't even smoke here. Thanks awfully, Missus Thatcher; you can stick those Polaris missiles of yours up your arse."
"Thatcher?" Franek asked, "the...iron lady, yes?"
"What? Didn't you ever overhear us Brits talking? Never even turned on the news and...why the fuck am I asking? Of course you didn't. It's Jaruzelski."
The Polish soldier didn't know what this HMS Plymouth sailor was ranting about. Franek guessed he was just pretty bummed out about everything that was happening to the planet. He couldn't blame the Brit.
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On the fateful day of December 25th, 1982, the port and city of Gdynia were miraculously spared from nuclear hellfire, perhaps by divine intervention; the two high-yield American nukes targeting it malfunctioned at the last minute before it was supposed to detonate. The remnants of the Polish Army quickly sought refuge here and restored order to the city.
What happened next, though, was nothing short of bizarre.
Regardless of allegiances, warships, and civilian ships came rushing towards the last port standing of the Baltic sea. First to arrive was the heavily damaged HMS Birmingham, which dropped all of the surviving 175 crew members for pickup before finally sinking. The second to reach Gdynia was a former ally's vessel, the East German Koni-class frigate Rostock also docked in this safe haven, relatively unscathed but still lacking fuel and medical supplies for the extra Volksmarine sailors it carried over.
Then came the HMS Plymouth, which set off sail from the home isles, carrying the survivors of the HMS Hermes alongside four cargo freighters and transport ships. They were the ones who also brought over the news that "London Bridge is down." That day, all the flags, regardless of color and nation, flew half-mast over Gdynia. The British wept and mourned as the rest of the bizarre coalition offered sympathy.
The HMS Bristol and the RFA Regent arrived shortly after, carrying over as many British civilians and soldiers from Portsmouth under the last direct order of the Royal Navy high command: "Get as many as you all can out of here, and god save Britain, for nobody else can."
And among the fleet of warships that have seen the light of the atom, one lies vigilant, untouched, and watching.
The ORP Błyskawica.
A survivor of its own, the ages haven't been too cruel to it. The remaining sailors of the Polish Navy protected the vessel with their lives against bandits, and thanks to that, the golden cross shines evermore on this destroyer.
When the news of an impending ice age and the first snow of January 1983 hit the city, they weren't ready to lay over and die. They also started programs for making their teleporters. Only they weren't content with going through a portal.
They will take the ships with them.
Most of the civilians decided they would instead take the portals, but the sailors were not abandoning ship just yet; they would drag their vessels somewhere over the rainbow. For that, the naval vessels that still could float and be in better shape were being refitted, which included the Błyskawica. Teleportation devices were built upon each boat, and when the command was given, the captain of all the vessels would punch the big red button, and all of them shall embark on a journey into a brave new world. As for the possible things that will go wrong...they will have to take a massive leap of faith.
The locals of Gdynia were almost gone, with some staying either determined to die where they were born or wanting to help those daring sailors. Most of the British civilians also stayed to help their fellow compatriots make the journey. Franek, among it all, was assigned guard duty of a small bookstore that was converted into a storage house.
He stared at the harbor; countless soldiers and remaining civilians, mostly British volunteers shuffled resources on board the large ships, engineers wielded and patched up wear and tears with whatever they could rip off other smaller boats, food was being rationed with everyone getting a can of pickles today. A loaf of bread would be given in place for tomorrow.
The British sailor is still ranting about something. Meanwhile, two Volksmarine sailors walk by carrying a massive crate of food and water; one of them told Franek, "Er ist immer so, du wirst dich daran gewöhnen."
Perhaps there is some beauty in this bizarre combination, private Kociniak thought, but right now, he's more concerned about getting indoors and around the warm fire after the shift.
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December 7th, 1984, 1400 hours
Private Kociniak, now crammed on the ORP Błyskawica alongside a couple dozen more Polish soldiers, witnessed the port of Gdynia being further and further away alongside the navy sailors who weren't controlling the ship or monitoring the energy levels.
"After we leave, none of us will come back again." Seaman Świtalski, his new-found friend, commented, "Franek, you best take a few more looks...this will be the last time we shall see Poland ever again."
Franek couldn't say anything. He watched as Poland started disappearing into the fog and snow, further and further, and finally, disappearing entirely from sight.
They were the last to leave, per the request of everyone on board.
After an hour or so of sailing into the ocean, the order was given to get into the cabins. The teleportation was about to begin for the entire fleet, and anyone staying on the deck would be cooked to a crisp.
Franek sat on the cold, hard corridors of the ship alongside many. Some younger soldiers were crying; the older ones were just depressed.
He closed his eyes, prepared to face what was coming.
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Well, not this.
After the massive teleportation, the armada finally reached another sea. From the completely alien creatures they saw from the sea, they may have successfully made it.
And that was about it. The sea was calm; it was sunny. There wasn't much that was to it.
"Shame, I was expecting a huge storm," Captain Trawiński sighed, sounding slightly disappointed, "but I guess we should be counting blessings that we didn't straight up arrive over a sea monster."
After half an hour of sailing Northwest, "Captain!" one of the spotters on the Błyskawica shouted, binoculars in hand, "Incoming!!"
The crew looked northeast of their ship to find a small fleet of vessels resembling fishing boats rushing towards them at unusual speeds.
On board the HMS Plymouth, the turrets started to turn toward another incoming submarine that was too...odd to be anything official, the sailors on the Plymouth were more direct in their findings:
"Incoming pirates!!"
The Royal Marine Commandos and sailors on the RFA Regent prepared themselves for a possible pirate boarding party. All ships reported over the radio that a pirate armada was closing in on their boat. At the same time, the soldiers on board the now converted cargo freighter "Kronas" opened fire first against the small ships approaching with salvaged DSHK machine guns.
Franek readied his rifle on the deck and aimed at the incoming pirates. The 100mm guns started to turn in the direction of what seemed to be the pirate flagship, a copy of the HMS Iron Duke. The 37mm anti-aircraft gun crews targeted and opened fire on the pirate boarding parties. Świtalski rushed towards the anti-air guns as Private Kociniak started to open fire on the pirates, and he began to see that he was shooting at alien horses rather than humans.
This finding wasn't unnoticed, as everyone knew they most certainly had gone to another planet by discovering horses are now driving boats.
Franek questioned his sanity but decided to put it aside and keep himself alive first.
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The Klugetown Walker pirates, in their stolen flagship, former HMES Solaris, were starting to panic.
"This isn't working, Hookface," the pirate with an eyepatch pointed the map on the table, "that passenger liner not only shows up with more ships and earlier than expected, but then it starts tearin' up our boys like paper? Why did you even order the attack? Is that even the ship we're supposed to raid?"
"Quit worryin' ye, Cyclops!" Hookface shouted, a rum bottle in hand, "so what if they got better? We still have this baby here and Golden Molar's boys on that sub! And as far as ye' n' me know, those sunbutt ships know horseapples 'bout fightin' us in the water-"
A massive explosion sounded outside as Hookface and Cyclops trotted out of the captain's room and saw that Golden Molar's submarine was blown to smithereens. Meanwhile, the battleship with a white and red flag fired its main cannons toward them, scoring a direct hit on one of the three operational 13.5-inch gun batteries.
The Royal Navy sailors on the HMS Plymouth are cheering for their kill while Hookface watched from his spyglass, fuming as he gritted his teeth.
Meanwhile, out of the ten speedboats that approached the RFA Regent, only two got close enough to board in the crossfire, and the 30 pirates that boarded the ship were tossed overboard as dead bodies by Royal Marine Commandos and a British civilian by the name of Edmund Evans, that had a cricket bat in his hand. Similar thing also happened to the Kronas, with the coalition of East German and Polish soldiers mopping the floor with Klugetown Walker pirates.
"Alright, they bucked with the wrong cap'n today! Cyclops, go and have 'em taste our apple pies!" Hookface shouted as the 13.5-inch, and 6-inch guns turned to fire at the Błyskawica.
Most of the shells missed the battleship by luck, but the sheer power of the 13.5-inch gun blew the water high up, covering the deck and anyone on it with seawater. One 6-inch shot hit the anti-air battery Świtalski just left to report their AA gun had jammed, leaving blood mixed with seawater splattering over the seaman. Broken limbs, charred remains, and the twisted hunk of steel were what remained of the battery, fire surrounding it.
For the first time after the nuclear fire that consumed the world, Świtalski puked overboard. Franek rushed to help him get on his feet as the other crew members frantically tried to put out the fire.
"You done in?" Franek asked as he slung the rifle over his shoulders and checked the seaman for wounds.
Świtalski shouted, "send me back in! I don't die that easily!" As he stood up, he grabbed a nearby mounted NSV machine gun and started firing at the now retreating pirate boarding parties, screaming profanities and cursing their mothers.
Back on board the Solaris, Hookface laughed, "Hah! Ya' see? Foals of buckin' horseapples get turned into pie and mash! now-"
Captain Trawiński ordered, "FIRE!"
The 100mm guns roared again, this time blowing off the aft mast of the Solaris, setting off a fire at the monkey island and the bridge. Cyclops, commanding the bridge to steer the ship closer to the Błyskawica, was screaming in agony as he ran out of the inferno burning and jumped into the sea. Hookface tried to grab his hand, but it all just happened too fast for him.
In even worse news for the pirates, the Rostock, successfully fending off the boarding parties, headed to the Błyskawica's aid and fired the last P-15 missile it had sitting in the launchers since the nukes.
Hookface has never seen anything like that, a metal tube taking off faster than a wonderbolt with flame and smoke coming out of its other end like a firework, launched at him and homing into his prized warship he bribed an Equestrian captain for and stole from the dry docks.
With the impact, the HMES Solaris' ammunition and fuel were ignited by the missile strike, setting off a massive explosion and breaking in half as it sunk under three minutes. The Brits, the Germans, the Poles, and the pony pirates all stared at in either shock, awe, or horror.
Upon the remaining few pirates that lived to get scooped up by the fleet, Hookface was picked up by the HMS Bristol.
The captain ranted at the sailors, "Gah! You buckin' apes! If it weren't for that shootin' star, my boys will have torn all of you apart, limb by limb! Ya' hear me, ye' dirty cowards? Come and fight me like a stallion and I will mop the floor with your teeth mixed with rum and blood!"
The crew on the Bristol decided it would be best to have him shut up for the time being and took out the sedation darts they had in spares.
"I will not go down like a chump! You bucking animals will not take me! Your needles shall never put me to sleep! Let me jump-argh!"
Before the medic can sedate the pirate captain, an RMC sergeant decides he will do this physically and slams his L1A1's buttstock into the Hookface's forehead.
"What? He'll live!" He said to his fellow RMC soldiers and Royal Navy sailors as they stared at him.
Meanwhile, the ORP Błyskawica spotted another ship.
"Relax, it's a passenger liner." Captain Trawiński announced to the nervous spotter, "Tell everyone that we will follow that ship, it will lead us to somewhere that we can dock."
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December 7th, 1008, 1724 hours
Jet Set & Upper Crust
South Luna Ocean, 140km Northwest of Irwind, on board the ERMS Princess Celestia
"I say, honey," Upper Crust remarked while having tea on the balcony facing the ocean, "This ocean liner really was worth the bits investing in it. I can totally see this being the future of luxury travel."
Jet Set took a Canelé and said, "I told you so. And to think the navy wanted to send escorts to ruin the scene! Those pirates wouldn't even dare touch you and me, and admiral Stabelin decided to cook up something about those pirates wanting to kidnap us! Absurd! Unthinkable!"
"I am considering complaining him to Fancypants himself, that will surely get him re-assigned to the north pole, and we will never see his face again." Upper Crust finished her cup of earl grey as she looked at the spyglass mounted on a tripod. "Hmm, what's that over there? The smoke is-"
A thunderous explosion can be heard in the distance, followed by a colossal explosion shaped like a mushroom cloud with an even louder boom. The other passengers were alarmed by the battle's presence as they rushed to take pictures and witness what had just happened.
Jet Set was more or less horrified by such a scene, a battle right at their doorstep could possibly lead to them being part of the receiving end of the cannons, and nobody was in the mood to die today.
"Admiral Stablein...was right? I-impossible; this must be a coincidence." Upper Crust muttered, her hoof shaking.
"Was that the Solaris?" Jet Set looked through his binoculars, "How did it end up here? I thought it was supposed to be scrapped!"
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Jet Set thought he had had enough of sudden events for a day, and life proved him wrong.
Those warships that were originally far away fighting someone turned out to be a human fleet that teleported into the South Luna Ocean, and not only had they completely sent the entire pirate fleet down to the bottom of the sea, but the humans also captured the fearsome Captain Hookface. At least, this is what the representative that the HMS Pistol...Blister...no, Bristol sent out told the entire ship.
Six ships are now following the ERMS Princess Celestia, four of them being battleships. The passenger liner took in some of the wounded human sailors and had them using the spare rooms as temporary hospitals, much to Jet Set and his wife's dismay.
"I will be frank with you, captain." He said to the HMS Plymouth's captain, "this is a high-end passenger liner, and I am already compromising my standards for letting you in. If it weren't for the captain and some of those passengers' pleas, your men would be-"
"Well, hello there, Frank; I'm Captain Edwards. Eh, I was just muckin' about, but why? You had those spare rooms eating dust on this ship, and letting my men who have been breathing fallout and eating lead for almost two bloody years sleep for a potential few days in it is too much for you? I'm sorry, should I be bowing and kowtowing while presenting my best bottle of brandy to you?"
"It's not that; we have standards on what ponies we even talk to, and talking to you is already a stretch. We don't do charity here, Mr. Edwards, we will take your wounded men in as a sign of courtesy, but if you expect any more favors from me, I will have you bucked straight off the deck." Upper Crust replied in an almost arrogant tone.
"Quite so, dear. I'm the owner of this ship and therefore have the power to do just that. Now, when you get to land, have fun playing in the mud with those...Ponyville peasantry." Jet Set threatened.
Captain Edwards gulped and tried to contain his anger, "I see...I was just about to leave anyway. Thank you for...your courtesy, and if any other pirates decide today's the good day to give the RMS Princess Celestia a visit, call us on this radio frequency, and we will reach out to you in five workdays. Oh, and remember about that brandy? Disclaimer, we're fresh out of brandy, you want vodka instead?"
The captain stormed off as Jet Set decided not to care. Who did these peasants decide they could sleep anywhere they liked, anyway?
Edwards returned to the deck as the ship's captain trotted up to him, "I'm...sorry for what you had to go through, sir. I will have the radio department tell Las Pegasus your fleet is coming. Care to stay for dinner?"
"Thanks, I appreciate it, but I ought to get going. My men still need me."
Meanwhile, Franek and Świtalski are carrying the last wounded men of the Błyskawica to the spare rooms of the passenger liner.
As they left the cabin, Świtalski complained, "that two horse sons of bitches don't want us here, Franek. They are too rich and struck up to have dirty soldiers eating their leftovers."
"At least the others are nice to us," Franek said as he held up a muffin, "like that pony who I think needs eye surgery."
"Yeah, well, nice or not, we will be sleeping in the hallways tonight." The seaman groaned. "Not the worst thing I had to endure anyway; Jaruzelski is still going to top the lists."
"True that."
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December 8th, 1008, 1600 hours
Princess Luna
Las Pegasus Harbour, on-ground section.
To hear about captain Hookface's spoils during meetings with the defense minister is one thing, but to see him dragged across the harbor and handed to the Equestrian Military Police? That is a whole different story.
Four of the Royal Marine Commandos carried the dreaded pirate as the rest of the HMS Bristol's sailors and marines made way while many other humans disembarked from the other vessels, waiting for the next move. Press cameras and newspaper journalists swarmed the humans and questions flew across the harbor like bullets. Captain Hookface cursed all along the way, even when he is being driven away by the military police.
Luna was honestly speechless at this; the Equestrian Navy had sunk so far, their former flagship, which was supposed to be a museum ship not only sold for scrap under Jet Set's interference, but then sold off in an under-the-table deal to pirates, finally to be sunk by the humans? It feels like the humans have been cleaning up after Equestria's failures in terms of the military from the moment they arrived.
She decided to put those thoughts aside and first shake hands...hooves? Doesn't matter. She will meet with the captain of the HMS Bristol. The media is always watching, and she cannot afford to make a wrong move.
Captain Trawiński, as the tune of "Poland is not yet lost" played and the flag of Poland was being lowered, gave the ORP Błyskawica a good look before stepping on land and said, "I hope to god she has fought her last battle."
The Rostock also lowered the flag of the German Democratic Republic in the preserved recording of "Risen from the Ruins". Receiving little to no media attention outside of the photographer on board taking photos.
A sailor remarked, "Goodbye Lenin, goodbye Marx, goodbye Engels, and goodbye forever, my fatherland."
At the same time, colonel Romeo Dallaire of the Equestrian Armed Forces Canadian Legion shook hands with the captain of the HMS Plymouth.
"Did Britain make it through?"
"Not here anyways if they did. Any news from the home isles? Is she safe?"
The captain hesitated, then replied, "London Bridge is down."
"...Fuckin' tabarnak, I knew this day would come. How long ago?"
"Two years."
Dallaire only nodded and said, "Understood. I will have the rest of Canada know it. You get some rest, captain."
The Union Jack flies over the harbor of Las Pegasus, upon the final embers of the empire that the sun has finally set upon.
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December 8th, 1008, 0600 hours
Queen Chrysalis
[TOP SECRET] of the Changeling citadel of Vesapolis
"B-But your majesty! Our smuggling routes and naval force have been wiped out!" Rodo Chainner, the leader of Klugetown pleaded, "you can't just cut our share of profits down the 20%! We need the material support to rebuild the-"
Queen Chrysalis cut the slaver's speech short and warned him, "I'm altering the deal, governor Rodo. Pray I don't alter it further."
Rodo fell silent.
"I will have another brigade of the guard to be stationed in Klugetown in case the ponies come knocking," Chrysalis added, "the cut of the share is a sufficient punishment for you and your captain's foolishness, we still need Klugetown to act as a spearhead for the future war. I trust you also need help with fortifying Klugetown and The Walkers, yes?"
"...Yes, your majesty..."
"Good, I will have Alspberg send you over some engineers and building materials for that alongside that brigade. Do not fail me this time, governor."
Chrysalis shut off the projector the moment she was done and after a few seconds, she shouted in rage and threw her coffee cup across the room, smashing it to pieces.
"Get me Herrog! At once!"