//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1 
// Story: Traveler 
// by totallynotabrony 
//------------------------------//

		Traveler
Third in the Sail Canvas Trilogy

The sun was low and flat behind a line of clouds pushing in from the west.  The waves in the East China Sea were calm at the moment, gently rolling off the bow of the yacht.
I sat at the helm, relaxing a bit after work.  Earlier I had been out touching up the boat’s paint.  As the only one on the permanent crew who had wings, it was naturally my job to get the high places.  
The boat had been built covertly on CIA and US Navy money.  We still owed those two groups a lot of favors for that, but when you sail around in a weaponized pleasure vessel, all kinds of people come out of the woodwork to ask you for favors.  For example, Equestria.
To my right was a mare named Apple Bloom.  She and two others were aboard at the moment.  They were some kind of special operations team.  They didn’t talk much to us, and that was fine.  We’d merely been contracted to provide transportation for whatever they were doing.
Despite being a pony myself, I had grown up in the United States.  It made for interesting arguments with the TSA, although the new president we’d just gotten in the 2016 election had promised to change some of that.
I heard footsteps on the stairs behind me.  Jones, our resident CIA agent, showed up on the bridge.  She said, “Mr. Canvas, Andy wants your opinion on something in the CIC.”
I nodded and stepped away from the wheel, letting her take it.  While the woman was not technically part of the crew, she had cross trained enough to handle simple things like steering.
Cassandra Jones was not an easy person to figure out.  She seemed to have a drive to succeed, but had dropped out of medical school in her younger years.   She was well known and respected at the CIA, but wanted to stay out of the spotlight.  She wanted to be friends, but often wasn’t very pleasant.
Jones had come aboard several months earlier because the CIA thought that I and my crew needed to be watched more closely.  She’d played a major part in derailing a terrorist plot to spread radiation on the east coast of the United States shortly thereafter, in the process becoming something of a celebrity.  The attention was apparently not what she wanted, so she used her star power to get any duty assignment she wanted, which was right back with us.
I went down a level to the Combat Information Center, my hooves clacking on the stairs.  Andy Newhart was there, running one of the computers in the CIC.
I’d known Andy since elementary school, only a few years after the dimensional doorways linking Equestria to Earth had opened.  He was one of the few friends I had from school.  On the boat he usually dressed casually, but at his regular job he was a Japanese professor at Old Dominion University and tended towards tweed suits and reading glasses.  He had taken a sabbatical to sail the high seas with us, but written it off as “research.”
“Hey Sail,” said Andy, “we’re getting close to the holding point.”
I nodded.  “All right.”  I waited for him to go on.  He wouldn’t have called me down just to tell me that.
“There are no signals coming from the site.  It’s blacked out.”
The Equestrians wanted information on some suspicious activities going on at a location in China.  It was near to the coast southwest of Dandong, at a place where we could hang around a while and have a look.  The city was close to the North Korean border, on the northeastern end of the East China Sea.
“It’s not a well populated area,” I told Andy.  “There’s no reason to be expecting any signals.”
He shrugged.  “Fair enough.
I bid him goodbye.  Since Jones was on the bridge, I figured I could spare a few minutes to walk through the boat.
I met Hawker Hurricane as I was leaving the CIC.  She was British, a gamer, and a pornography actress.  Most of those things interested Andy, and they were talking about getting married.
Hawker said hello to me and went to sit next to Andy.  I headed down the passageway, finding our other two guests peering into a safety equipment locker.  Their names were Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, pegasus and unicorn respectively.
I had no idea what the two mares were looking for, but didn’t say anything.  They were generally not very friendly, probably because I wasn’t either.  I’ve noticed that I’m a stallion who is much better at dealing with people than other ponies.
In the galley, I found Nika Ivanova working on a meal.  Not that any of us were really good at food preparation, but Nika was probably the best.  She also wasn’t bad with the AK-47 she habitually carried slung over her shoulder.
I’d first met Nika on a business trip to Russia.  At the time, she’d been working for the FSB, one of the agencies to replace the old KGB.  We’d hit it off, and it had been partially her idea to start the company.  I still didn’t have any official name for our little special operations group, but it didn’t seem to need one.
I had another, legitimate business, Canvas Shipbuilding.  I catered mostly to the United States Navy.  It was a good company that my father had built before he passed away.
In the last year or so, I’d had some major life changes that involved, among other things, working for the CIA on a freelance basis.  I was able to get a good income from it, and it was certainly never dull.
The most exciting parts, however, were spent with Nika.  Gag if you will, but she was the only one—pony or person—who I loved.  We understood each other, and had surprisingly many things in common.
Yuck, was I really so sentimental?  It’s not like we’d figured out how to have sex.  Besides, with what we both knew about intelligence and weapons systems, we could talk for hours before ever breaching the subject of something uncomfortable like that.
I gave Nika a kiss before heading back up to the bridge.  When I got there, Jones left to do some secret agent things and I had the wheelhouse to myse—
No, wait.  Apple Bloom was still there.  She’d been there all day, and hadn’t said a word.  I couldn’t figure it out, and when I'd tried to ask she hadn't given me a satisfactory answer.  See, this is why I’m not into mares.
The rest of the day passed slowly.  All we were doing was trolling off the China coast hoping something interesting would happen.  The few files of information the Equestrians had given us merely showed a location on shore where it appeared that an excavation was going on.  What the Chinese were digging for was anyone’s guess, but someone in Canterlot wanted to know badly enough to send us out to take a look.
The clouds had stayed with us all day, but it never rained.  It looked like it would be a dark, moonless night.  As dusk began to settle, I went out to pull in a few fishing lines I’d set.  There was no bait on them, but we had to make the yacht look like we had an excuse to be there.
Later that night, I had taken over in the CIC and Nika was on the bridge.  Everyone else was probably sleeping before their time to man stations during the night.
I examined the radar display.  It was not a standard maritime radar by a long shot.  Some significant military research and development that had gone into it.  My connections in the defense industry and the blessing of the government was the only reason I was able to get it installed on the boat.
One of the features tracked contacts for an extended time and looked for patterns.  It was sometimes difficult to observe slow moving or indistinct targets, so the radar system was able to store information for playback later.
As I checked over the recording, a clear contact was visible.  On normal radar returns, it would appear as a small spot that faded in and out even when the gain was high.  Most people probably wouldn’t notice it and it was only by playing it at high speed that I was able to catch it.
The contact hung out at a distance that I guessed would be over the horizon from us.  Much too far to see with the eyes.  It paced back and forth, clearly keeping watch.
With a radar contact that small, it had to be a purpose-built stealth ship.  It was an open secret that the Chinese had the technology, although getting information about the ships was very difficult.  All we had were some grainy pictures taken by satellite.
Really, I wasn’t surprised.  Our boat had probably spent too much time off the Chinese coast.  We’d left a few calling cards.  Too many, really.  It was only natural that China would at least be suspicious of a boat matching our description, even if they didn’t truly know what we were up to.
I kept my eyes on the radar all night, handing it off in the morning.  Our friend occasionally dodged out of the way to stay hidden from commercial shipping traffic, but never let us get out of sight.  In the daylight with more surface activity, it was harder to pick up the faint contact.
When I got up after a nap, Nika told me that a pair of Chinese fighter jets had passed through the area.  There had been others the day before.  I wondered if there was a regular patrol in the region, or if it was something special just for us.
I didn’t think there was a leak that might be feeding the Chinese information.  There could be, of course, but it was more likely that we had simply become too notorious.  It didn’t help that the CIA and now Equestria wanted us in the area.
I was standing on the bridge with Nika late in the afternoon.  I had brought up coffee and we were talking over the activity we’d noticed from the Chinese.  
Apple Bloom was there again.  I was sure she’d left at some point during the night, but hadn’t actually seen her clear the bridge.
I leaned against the bulkhead, making it easier to stand on two hooves while I held the coffee cup with the other two.  Our conversation had just turned to the stealth ship when Apple Bloom hit the deck.  “Torpedo!”
I grabbed Nika and pulled her down.  I felt a little coffee splash on us as the cup smashed to the deck.  She started to say something and was interrupted by an explosion from near the bow.  It was so sudden and violent that we were lifted off the deck and thumped back down.
I scrambled up, a little stunned.  The bridge windows were made of thick polycarbonate and had survivied.  As I looked out, I realized with horror that the forward fifth of the boat was just flat missing.  If it had been a warship with lots of compartments to seal, it might have been barely-survivable damage.  As it was, the boat was definitely going down.  The only question was how long it would take.
The lights were out.  I grabbed a flashlight and quickly made my way below, avoiding broken glass and scattered equipment.  Jones was on the deck of the CIC, bleeding slightly from the head.  She appeared to be awake and moving, so I went on.
Andy slammed open the door to his cabin.  He might have been asleep.  “Abandon ship,” I told him.  I looked into the compartment to make sure Hawker was okay.
On deck, I was relieved to see everyone and everypony there.  An inflatable orange life raft had been pulled out and we would need it very soon.  By the time I got in, the deck was nearly awash.
The boat was called Corsair, and I took a last look as the waves closed over her.  It was strangely quiet.  A few things floated on the surface of the water.
The seven of us were left in the raft.  I took stock of our supplies.  There was a satellite phone in its case strapped to my leg.  Nika still had her AK.  A small supply kit was attached to the floor of the raft.
“What happened?” asked Andy.
“We were torpedoed,” Apple Bloom said.
“Damn.”
“Who fired it?” asked Jones.
“China seems like a good candidate.”  I was still a little disbelieving of the whole situation.  Even if we were sailing a known spy boat, sinking it was just asking for an international incident if the United States wanted to push the issue.
I pulled out my phone.  It still seemed to work so I dialed.  There was a good chance any signals coming from the area where the boat had been sunk would be monitored, so I didn’t call the CIA.  I called my lawyer.
“Hello, David Goldstein.”
“This is Sail.  I’ve been shipwrecked.”
He paused, but then went on as if I’d said the weather was nice.  “What would you like me to do?”  That was why I liked David.  He didn’t get excited.
“Notify the authorities.  Try not to let anyone find out about it for as long as you can.”
“I’ll do that.”  After a moment, he added, “Good luck.”
After a short discussion, we in the life raft decided that our best option was heading for the coast.  It was perhaps twenty miles distant.
There was one collapsible paddle supplied with the raft.  There wasn’t much food or water, and I hoped currents wouldn’t work against us and push us further out to sea.
We were rescued after only about a hour of being adrift.  A small container ship appeared on the horizon and lumbered towards us.  There was a parachute flare in the raft kit, and it seemed to draw the attention of the ship.
The crew was Chinese.  A few spoke English.  On their route, they were about a day from Dalian, China.  We told them we were tourists.  I wasn’t sure if they believed that or not, but they seemed nice enough to have stopped to bring us aboard.
I should have known things were going too well.  There was a group of police waiting at the docks for us.  We’d ditched all our weapons and incriminating material before boarding the container ship.  The cops didn’t seem to be particularly aggressive and seemed more curious than hostile.
They took us downtown in a paddy wagon, although we weren’t cuffed.  It seemed like we weren’t really under arrest, but they wouldn’t let us leave, either.  I got the feeling that they had been unexpectedly told to come down to the docks and take custody of us.  I hoped that didn’t mean we were being held until someone from the government or military came.
It was really kind of interesting to see how other countries’ law enforcement operated.  Of course, I’d rather not do it from the back of a police vehicle.  Still, China was inherently different than the United States and there was a lot to observe.
Talking quietly on the way to the police station, we reached the decision that it would be better to make an escape attempt sooner rather than later.  When the vehicle stopped, they led us inside the police station.  There seemed to be some confusion about what to do with us.
We were eventually led down a back hallway and deposited in a windowless office with two desks.  One of the police officers that spoke English told us to stay.
The office door had a pane of frosted glass in it and the desks, currently unoccupied, looked like they were set up for paperwork.  It wasn’t much to go on.
“Ideas?” I said, looking around.
“We’re in a low-traffic part of the building,” said Jones.  “That’s a lower chance of being caught.”
“There was a metal door at the other end of the hallway that might be an exit,” said Scootaloo.  
“I noticed that they didn’t lock this office door,” added Andy.  “That probably means that it’s guarded.”
Nika said, “We need to find out how many guards and see if there is a way around them.”
“How about this?” asked Sweetie Belle, holding up a roll of clear tape she’d picked up from one of the desks.  I was a little surprised to see it was real Scotch Tape, but then, it was made in China, wasn’t it?
The unicorn explained how the adhesive in the tape would fill in the roughness of the frosted glass and allow a somewhat effective way to see through it.  She placed a strip on either side of the window and after a moment reported, “I think there’s a guy to the left.”
We quickly came up with a plan of action.  As it happened, the guard Sweetie Belle had spotted was standing near the hinges of the outward-opening door.  If it slammed open, it would pin him against the wall.  All we could do was hope that there were not more police out there unseen.
Nika turned the doorknob slowly.  It didn’t make any noise.  She looked around and received a nod from everyone.  We were ready.
As the door was thrown open, I heard a noise from the cop who had just been flattened.  I glanced quickly to the other side of the door but saw no one, so I continued around the door and helped Nika subdue the officer behind it.
Between a couple of us, we gagged the slightly stunned guard and quickly carried him down the hallway and through the metal door.  It turned out to be a light security inmate holding area, not the outdoors.
We grabbed the cop’s handcuffs and left him there chained to a metal bar with his hat stuffed in his mouth to keep him quiet.  None of the prisoners seemed to speak English, but it sounded like they got a kick out of the guard’s detainment.
Down a couple of corridors we found a door that lead to a loading dock in an alley behind the police station.  For some reason, the cops hadn’t taken my sat phone, so I was dialing as soon as we were outside.
The call went through and David picked up.  I said, “We’re in Dalian, China, probably at the closest police station to the container ship docks.  I need to get to the closest international airport.”
He was able to tell me the correct direction to head in.  He said he’d start working on having tickets ready for when we arrived.  
I got off the phone and the six of us started moving.  The best bet would be to get a taxi, but we had no money.  Maybe I could bribe the driver with the sat phone.
We flagged down a van that could fit us all with a driver that spoke English.  I explained my deal to him.
“I don’t need that.  Everyone has a telephone,” he said, showing off his own.
“Here,” said Andy, handing over his gold Rolex.  The driver inspected it and nodded.
After a quick ride to the airport, we found the ticket booth.  I was a little surprised at meeting more people than I expected that spoke English and I made a mental note to broaden my horizons a little.
David had come through and our tickets were waiting.  We got lucky; they were for All Nippon Airways going to Tokyo and they left shortly.  Airplanes had mostly gone by the wayside as portal technology had become more prevalent, but there was still a client base who prefered physical travel, or, like us, were under questionable circumstances.
Those in our group who wore clothes—Nika, Jones, Andy, and Hawker—had been wearing them since the boat sank.  That was more than a day before and with significant ocean exposure.  Some of the air crew gave us unkind looks coming aboard their nice clean plane, but we could care less. 
The three Equestrians separated at Tokyo.  Their plans had been arranged differently than ours.  There was an issue with passports and trying to get passage back to the United States, so it was an easy decision to stay at a hotel for the night and let David sort things out.  All of us needed the rest anyway.
That night in the hotel room I was feeling pretty relaxed.  Not having your life in imminent danger is nice.  Also, Nika was preening my feathers.  If you don’t have feathers or friends with fingers you don’t understand.  It’s amazing.
“I was thinking about something,” she said.  “What sort of torpedo was that?”
I frowned.  “Well, I didn’t think there was anything around us besides a submarine that could launch a torpedo.  That limits the options.”
“553-millimeter submarine torpedoes are very powerful, aren’t they?” she asked.
“Yeah, and against our little boat we should have been blown to pieces.”  I frowned.  “Not that I mind being alive, but something strange is going on here.”