Every midnight when the moon was high, the loud footsteps of an unknown human pounded on the rusty metal deck of the ship as he made his rounds, hard rubber soles on his boots only making the racket even louder. He paused, taking a moment of peace to fill his lungs with the salty breeze of the sea. But a moment later, he was off.
Every morning, three buckets of water and one of hay appeared in front of the tiny opening crudely cut out in the larger doors. The hay was moist and slightly moldy, the water wasn’t completely fresh, and it was obvious that the buckets were never washed.
Every evening, another human examined the strength of the containers, sliding his hand across the metal cells and pushing in the walls, trying hard to find a weakness. When he did, he took his portable welder and made sure that no ponies would escape that day.
And every midnight when the moon was high, the loud footsteps of an unknown human pounded on the rusty metal deck of the ship as he made his rounds, hard rubber soles on his boots only making the racket even louder. He paused, taking a moment of peace to fill his lungs with the salty breeze of the sea. But a moment later, he was off.
That was their day. Every day.
The entire container was roughly thirty-eight hooves long, fifteen hooves wide, and fifteen almost sixteen hooves high. It had twenty corrugations on the walls and ceiling. Ten air holes were crudely cut out with an oxyacetylene torch near the top. Patches of rust could be seen, but had been reinforced by welded metal plating on the outside. The floor was a cold steel covered in a layer of used and flattened hay, almost trampled to dust after years of use.
She figured this out in less than an hour.
Arc sat in a corner, shooting tiny sparks of light into the air where they fell like glowing snow. His face was lit up every few seconds, showing no emotion. Red Dawn was asleep, awkwardly using Eve as a pillow and snoring up a storm. A lifetime of sleeping next to her many siblings in the same room did not leave her that easily. She mumbled a few words in her native language while rubbing the side of her head on Eve’s abdomen.
Usually Arc would sit in silence as the other two had their ‘girl moments’ or nonstop speaking. But that day was one of the few times the unicorn spoke more than a few sentences. Eve closed her eyes and played back the events of that day one more time.
***
Arc rolled his eyes at the pleading mare, but after a whole day of begging, he had finally surrendered.
"I was born in a small town south of Los Angeles. Pa was a unicorn, but he could never get his magic working for some reason. Ma was an earth pony. She would always tell stories of how they met in a field. At first she laughed, a unicorn pullin' a plow? It was the most ridiculous thing any of them had ever heard. But months later, I popped out."
"Even when I was young, I always had sparks coming out of my horn when I was thinking hard. That's how I got my name. But when I had nightmares, I would usually burn a hole in the mattress. They always knew that my magic was strong. One day, we had the best harvest in years but all of our tools were rusty and broken. I thought that I could melt some scrap metal together we had layin' around into somethin' useful. I made it, but it was too late to harvest. I didn't mind much though. Of course my flank mark would be a spark..."
"Wow..." Eve said in awe. "Does anyone else you know have a flank mark?"
Arc shook his head, "Just Split Rock."
"Let me guess. It's of a split rock?"
The unicorn nodded. "He was a miner. Gold miner, if you want'a be specific. If you've seen a Baja Gold Drop, most likely he's the one who made it."
"Baja Gold Drop?"
"It's a little blip of gold the size and shape of an M&M. We don't use it much, but whenever we find some other village to trade with, we use those to settle a deal or buy their loyalty. We use whatever we grow to trade inside our town.” Arc paused, “He’ was a good friend. Died a few years ago. Damn shame.”
The ship creaked, as if it agreed.
“Anyways, I was fixing some plows out in the fields-” He stopped. His hesitance was all Eve needed to figure out that the day he was out in the fields was the last day he was in his home community.
"How did you get caught?" Eve immediately felt guilty about blurting out those few words, but as the seconds trickled past, she could not suppress her curiosity. Cerulean always said not to ask the wrong question at the wrong time.
He was silent, only staring into her steel-grey eyes.
Nervousness was what she felt. Her eyes darted around, trying to avoid his gaze and the electric-blue pupils that bore into her very soul.
"'Night." Arc turned around and settled down in his own corner.
Eve released a breath she unconsciously held in her lungs. Next to her, Red’s heart was also beating hard, even though she was not Arc’s target.
Silence followed, and they both awkwardly shuffled around.
“So where are you from?” Eve whispered, her hushed words sounding like a lawnmower in the silent night.
Red Dawn smiled, and closed her eyes, remembering her home.
***
"My family lives in a small village north of a port town called Sovgavan. It is beautiful all year, but is very cold during the winter. But I did not mind. I had family.”
She sighed, remembering the days when she and her siblings would all huddle together in front of the fire. She remembered her home, a small, one-room shack built from old bricks and wooden beans taken from the remains of the city that she lived not five minutes away. She remembered the light fluttering of snow as the first day of winter arrived, and the subsequent snowstorm that kept her entire family inside for the week.
“Each autumn, we cut down trees for food and lumber. Mama would brew the pine needles into tea, and before we drank we each talked about our year.”
Eve smiled at her accent, finding it gentle, but still with force.
"For a long time we had no contact with the outside world, but one day a ship appeared in the horizon. We all stared as it slowly came closer and closer. It was a mistake. I hid behind a rock while some of my family was captured and dragged onto the ship. I never saw them again. Many times the ship returned. Sometimes they would leave without a single captured pony, other times an entire family disappeared. But I do not feel bad for being captured myself. If Mir is safe, I do not mind what happens to me."
"Mir?" Eve asked.
"My sister. Eight winters younger than I am, but blessed with unlimited life."
She sighed again, and closed her eyes. "I told her to run. Run, before they got her. I can still remember her eyes as they looked towards me as I was dragged onto their ship. I hope she does not blame herself. I know she does, but at the same time..."
Eve placed a hoof on her shoulder in comfort, having gone through the exact same thing.
Red wiped her eyes, her chains clicking as they slid across the floor.
***
The next few days passed without much event. Without set meal times, hay was chewed randomly throughout the day. Countless games of Tic-tac-toe were won and lost with Red rising as the ultimate champion. Of course that all changed one day when the crew of the ship started panicking for whatever reason.
"Get the guns!" one screamed, fear lacing his voice.
A loud rattling came from right outside their cell, a yell of frustration sounding as whomever out there had failed in his duty.
"I need a key, it's locked!"
Rumbling engines sounded as many small boats loaded with men came up to the ship, white lines trailing behind them as the wake sent small waves across the otherwise smooth surface of the ocean. They were small junkers, barely larger than an average car. Paint flaked off of their hulls, and signs of rust were evident as small patches of red dominated the deck. Large machine guns were crudely bolted onto the deck, right behind the front pulpit. Long belts of ammunition trailed from their side as the gunners readied their weapons.
A red flare rocketed up into the air, and hell rained down.
Small slugs of lead poked holes in the large ship, causing minor damage, but nothing major. On the other hand, the men were thoroughly spooked. Running around like headless chicken, they scoured their vessel for any weapons they could find, starting a fight over a small, rusted handgun they found in the bilge.
"What was that?" Eve yelled as her hooves shot towards her head, trying to cover her eyes. In the ensuing gunfire, her yells of pain could not be heard as she smacked her face with the heavy metal shackles.
Grappling hooks were thrown, trailing long ropes that were tied to the raiding boats. The men were obviously well-practiced, as they traversed the lines in record time. Only a minute later, two dozen raiders were aboard.
Men in combat uniforms scrambled up the ropes and ran around the ship, corralling sailors like panicked cattle into one open area in the center of the ship. They complied, silently eyeing the box filled with their own weapons.
The boarders wore battered old ballistic gear with each wielding a submachine gun, ones Eve quickly identified as a mix of old British Sterlings and Israeli Uzis. Yelling in an unknown language, the crew of the ship was under the mercy of the boarders in less than a minute. A single word in English was yelled into the air.
"DOWN!"
The crew kneeled with their hands behind their heads as guns were pointed at their backs. Eve eyed one of the Sterling wielded by one of the skinnier raider. Had she not seen it fire earlier, she would’ve sworn that it was completely rusted, inside and out.
"Please! Please, we are all amigos..." said what looked like the captain in charge of their little prison boat. He had a desperate smile on his face, with sweat completing the picture of a man who wished not to die.
A sharp slap was heard as the man was stuck down. "Do not speak as if we are amigos raider." a man in black body armor said loudly with a thick Hispanic accent. The captain groaned as blood dripped from his nose. "Wait. I know you." He tapped his chin. "You are the capitán that sailed into our waters two years ago!"
"No! NO! That wasn't me! We-we aren't raiders! We weren't the ones who hit Ancash! I was two thousand miles away! We capture ponies! See! See?" He crawled towards and wrenched open a container to reveal four earth ponies, all trying to hide behind each other in a desperate attempt to save their kin.
"Despreciable..." the man hissed. In one swift motion he pulled out his pistol, loaded one in the chamber, and pointed it towards the downed man's head. "You are too much of a sloth to even labor on your own!" The captain's eyes widened in fear, until a metaphorical light bulb turned on above his head. Scrambling to his feet, he patted down his pockets, trying to find what he was searching for. "Do not attempt to bribe us, slaver." The man hissed, the captain having gone down lower and lower down his totem pole of respect. Though his eyes, and his comrade's, were all shining with curiosity as to what he had to offer.
He pulled out a brown pouch, opened the bag, and shook out the contents. All eyes were wide with awe as ten rough diamonds rolled out onto the palm of his hand. The smallest gem was the size of a marble with the largest being a hair larger than a robin's egg. They didn’t glitter in the bright sunlight of noon, but even now; even with a collapsed society and a nonexistent world economy, they still had quite the value. The leader of the boarders remained silent, but tried, and failed, to contain a grin. He removed his gloves and slowly plucked the largest of the bunch, its rough, uneven shape making it tumble in his similarly rough hands.
Satisfied with the result, he nodded his approval, and slipped the gems back into the pouch. "Nothing happened." he simply said. With a quick wave of his hand, he motioned for his men to return to their boats.
Five minutes later, it was as if nothing happened.
***
"What was that?" Red Dawn breathed, frightened at the thought of being found. Her golden eyes shot from side to side, and her heart beat like a thousand marching men. Sweat dripped from her chin, and Eve predicted that she would go into a panic attack if left alone.
Pretending that the shaking earth pony was Cerulean, the pegasus reached a hoof around her and pulled her close. Even after living in a metal container filled with decades of the salt from the ocean, Red Dawn's mane still vaguely smelled like wheat.
They sat there, silent, except for heavy breathing coming from the farmer.
"Peruvian." Eve stated.
"Wh... What?" Red looked up.
"Red vertical stripe. White vertical stripe. Red vertical stripe. Those boats had Peruvian flags painted on them." the pegasus said, her eyes closed as she remembered the chipped and worn paint on the dirty boats.
"Peruvians? I have never heard of them before."
"Most likely they haven't either. Peru was a pre-war country."
"But what were they after?" Red asked, now more curious than scared.
"'So you are the captain who sailed into our waters two years ago.' 'We weren't the one who hit Ancash.'" Eve recited, "They were looking for whoever attacked their country two years ago."
At this, the earth pony frowned, and even looked a little angry. "But they did not have to shoot at us for it! We could have died!"
"Yes," the pegasus nodded, "We could've died.” Eve smiled. She could feel yet another info dump coming along. "M2 Browning .50 Caliber Machine Guns. Designed by John Moses Browning in 1918, the machine gun went through several forms before settling with the most modern version, the M2HB, or the M2 Heavy Barrel. It was widely used in the Second World War, Korean Wars, the Antarctic Crisis, and countless other conflicts around the world..."
***
It’s things like these that make me want to swallow some Tylenol in those little gel capsules. Remember Tylenol? Hell, the last time I used over-the-counter meds was when I was in high school. Our medics barely have enough Band-Aids. Apparently the meds are used a placebos, as the real pain suppressors ran out a month ago. And according to the soldiers, they work as intended. But that’s enough about Tylenol. I bet you’re all wondering what going on eh?
The USS Richmond ran into (Yes, I mean that literally.) the HMS Viking near Ascension Island in the South Atlantic. No one knows how, but it seems that both crews blacked out right before the actual collision. A later investigation made the entire even more suspicious. There was nothing wrong with the guidance systems, no one was drunk, and according to the logs, both ship and submarine’s computer systems acknowledged each others existence. It wasn’t even foggy out.
Anyways the Viking was loaded with Harriers, their pilots, and plenty of other munitions on their way to Ascension Island to reinforce the RAF airbase there. It’s somewhat surprising to use decades-old Harriers in this day and age, but I guess desperation takes priority. Anyways once they got there, they got one hell of a surprise.
No one was there. According to them, the entire base was just empty. There was absolutely no trace that anyone had ever been there. What creeped them out the most was the fact that the neighboring town was also light on quite a few of their inhabitants. It was as if they’d been plucked away by god. That’s when they decided to turn back. There’s no logic in leaving valuable planes and pilots on an empty island.
Anyways, we finally got some international news. There have been only minor skirmishes near Turkey and Eastern Europe, leaving the usually war-torn continent almost untouched. Weird ain’t it? The largest conflict since WWII and they’re not in it. Southeast Asia is an irradiated warzone, Africa is pretty much a lawless wasteland (Like it was ever any different.), and the naval fighting in the Pacific gives a new meaning to the term “Ring of Fire.”
We’re at a stalemate at the Rio Grande. The ships and their firepower have proven invaluable in our fight towards out home country, but all they managed to do is allow us to dig in the south side of the border. Of course if we can work out a deal with Prince Nightingale about those Harriers…
Ah Nightingale. It may sound like a prissy-boy name, but let me tell you, he’s two hundred fifty pounds, buff as hell, and if you look at him the wrong way he will rip off your face with his gloriously British ass cheeks. Er… arse cheeks.
He’s probably Jack Churchill’s great-great grandson or something.
Rat smirked as a whistle sounded from below. Looking out of the crane’s cabin, he saw Lev waving to him on top of a container filled with hay.
With a few practiced pulls of a lever, Rat lowered the hook.
They had ten days to pull off the plan.
Just ten.