Trot Harbor, 994 C. E.
One Fate-Tempting Later...
"Ground Team, this is Sky One." The three spies' ears twitched simutaneously as their radio earpieces crackled. They hunkered down along the crest of the low hill, three sets of eyes peering down at Trot Harbor through compact binoculars.
Sweetie pressed a hoof to her ear. "Sky One, Ground Three, go ahead."
"Ground Three, looks like two police patrols in the residential district and two more at the watch station. Estimate baker's dozen worth of armed bad guys crawling around the docks, and maybe a few more jokers hiding up in the loading cranes."
Sweetie spun the focusing dial, bringing the dock into sharp relief. Two mercenary guards, an earthpony and a griffon, stood watch at the submarine's gangplank. A dozen others scurried between the sub and adjoining warehouses, hauling crates and equipment aboard the vessel. They all looked very unfreindly. Also, very heavily armed.
"Crossbows, rifles, shock spears... I think that griffon up in the crane has a fireworks tube with her." She observed.
"They came ready to party, that's fer sure." Double Cross not-so-helpfully added. "Think ya can bluff yer way past them, Drops?"
"Great idea, Ground Two. Let's turn the new girl into a pincushion."
"Private conversation, Sky One."
"Not my fault you sunlovers are all deaf."
"Well since yer eavesdroppin' anyway, got any bright ideas?"
"Sure, howabout not walking straight through the front door of Goons 'R' Us?"
Double scoffed, "Eve, do ya have to broadcast every thought that floats through that batty brain a' yers?"
"Hmph, fine! So that's how it's going to be? Maybe I'll be too busy minding my own business next time you need an airborne rescue!"
"Oh, fer Celestia's shining flank, you can't play the tribe card! You love scaring day ponies! You threatened to eat Night Glider last week!"
"Context! That's out of context, I was motivating her during training! Sky Two, back me up here!"
"Bossmare, this is Sky Two. I, uh, really don't feel comfortable getting in the middle of this."
"Hah! Ground Team, you should see the look on her face right now! Anyway, where were we? Ground Two being racist?"
Sweetie lowered her binoculars and looked to Cover Story as the other two continued their argument. "Why do we even have radios if she can hear everything we say anyway? We wouldn't have to listen to her otherwise."
Cover sighed, his posture that of a defeated stallion. "I ask myself that same question every day." He put his own spyglasses back in the saddlebags of his stolen police armor and turned to face Sweetie. "So, what's our play?"
"Seriously? You three have been doing this for like, ten years longer than I have."
That earned a sympathetic chuckle from Cover. "That's why we're called training officers, Sweetie. You can't work with a safety net forever."
Sweetie took in the layout of the pier, the position and alertness of the guards, and ran through a mental checklist of her resources on hoof. There were far too many guards to sneak aboard, and they did not seem keen on letting random ponies anywhere near the sub. Donning a flimsy disguise and trying to lie her way aboard could only end with her being roughly dragged into the warehouse for some 'friendly questioning'. Or worse. "I, um, I don't see an easy way in, Cover. That's a lot of bad guys, and there's probably fifty more around the port if we call Agent Kicker for backup."
Cover leaned further foward, poking his snout further above the hillcrest as he strained for another look. "As much as Door Kicker would love for his commandoes to, as he puts it, 'just get straight nuts on some mooks', I agree. Discretion is the better part of valor here."
Sweetie sighed. Anxious as she was, she really didn't want her biggest operation ever to be over before it even began. She ran a hoof through her mane, scratching at a few twigs that had taken up residence during their cross-island stroll through the brush. The Red Sorena seemed to be mocking her, rocking gently back and forth in its mooring at the end of the pier.
End of the pier... The thought rung inside her head. She pulled her binoculars back out and scanned the harbor again, a grin slowly spreading across her muzzle. She sprung to her hooves, galloping as quickly as discretion allowed back down the hill towards their equipment packs. She started agressively digging through it with one hoof while pressing the other to her ear. "Everypony? It's Ground Three, I have an idea."
"...infiltrator, my plot! You can't even hide that redneck accent! 'Boy howdy, General Doomclaw, Ah am a wealthy Manehattan arms dealer and Ah'd sure as sugar love to pardner up on yer evil plan if ya'd just tell me the details!' Because that's what you sound like!"
"Everypony?"
"Least I can blend in! Everytime you try to play spy, ya end up getting chased with pitchforks and torches like yer the Wicked Witch of the Everfree! And I don't sound like that! That's a Ponyville accent, Appleoosan's completely different!"
"EVERYPONY!" Sweetie shouted over the radio. Everypony stared. Realizing she had just yelled at her bosses, (And maybe a cannibal? She still wasn't sure if Eve actually drank other ponies' blood), She shrank back, ears flat against her head. "Sorry..."
"...No, its alright Drops, we were outta line. What'cha got?" Double gave her an apologetic look as everypony gathered around. Two fluffy clouds drifted down from the sky to join the huddle, one steered by midnight-blue feathers and the other by leathery gray-and-rose bat wings. Eve poked her muzzle out of the cloud she wore, looking immensely pleased with her choice of camoflauge. Night Glider followed suit less enthusiastically, wearing an expression that could only be described as 'how is this my life right now?'
Sweetie looked from her two training officers to the ridiculously-attired flyers. All eyes were on her now. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out, pushing her remaining anxiety to the dark recesses of her mind. "I've got a way to get on board, but I'm going to need a distraction..."
"STOP! TROT CITY GUARD! SOMEPONY STOP THAT THIEF!!!"
The mercenary guards shook off the monotonous stupor of watch duty, leveling their weapons and looking for the source of the shouting. The griffon at the gangplank put a talon to her beak and let out a long, shrill whistle, rousing her comrades perched above. Her earthpony partner motioned to a corner two blocks away. In a matter of seconds, six crossbows, nine shock spears, a scoped rifle, and a launcher tube loaded with some very illegal firework rockets were all trained on the street corner.
An azure pegasus with a close-cropped silver mane barrelled around the corner, flying as fast and low as she possiby could. A set of saddlebags whipped in the wind alongside her, straps clenched in her teeth. Two stallions in guard armor were hot on her hooves. As she flew closer, the griffon raised a claw in the air. A split second before she could give the signal to fire, the unicorn cop shot off a bolt of magic, sending the thief bouncing into the dirt. She waved her goon squad foward, approaching the unlucky purse-snatcher as the police tackled her.
The griffoness stood over the pony pile, lowering her bow as she glared at the moaning thief in disgust.
"What are you cloudbrained morons doing?" She growled at the officers, "I thought we had a deal!"
"Sorry ma'am, this one got away from us," the unicorn replied, slapping hoofcuffs on the perpetrator.
"The professor isn't paying you morons to sit around and eat pastries. Keep the townsponies away from this dock. Is that so hard to get through your shiny skulls? GET HER OUT OF HERE!"
"Won't happen again, Miss. Promise." The earthpony said, hauling the dazed pegasus to her hooves. "C'mon, let's get ya into a nice dank cell where ya can think about yer crimes."
The thief shook her head as the guards dragged her along, clearing cobwebs from the hit. "Buckin' cops," she growled, "why don't you just get down and kiss her talons already. Everypony knows they paid you off!!"
The griffoness froze in the middle of giving her associates the all-clear wave. She turned back to the pegasus, giving the defiant mare a sadistic smirk. "Really?" The pegasus shrank back, tough-girl bravado evaporating in the face of a vicious predator. "You know, I think I've changed my mind, boys. I'd like to have a few words with this one about exactly what 'everypony' knows. Privately."
"Look ma'am, I know we're all on the same side here, but we've got paperwork to do and a patrol to keep to, so yew tell yer boss that--"
The mercenary brought a talon under the thief's chin, lifting her muzzle up to meet her gaze. "Two hundred bits apiece on top of your normal 'benefits package'. Just to look the other way."
"Well, what kind of peace officers would we be if we didn't serve the public interest? Deputy Cross, why don't you escort this fine young mare somewhere where they can have a friendly chat. I'll head to the watch station and get started on the paperwork," the unicorn policepony said. "Too bad about all those injuries she sustained resisting arrest," he added. The thief blanched, now openly quaking in fear. The griffoness signaled the other guards back into position, then motioned for the remaining officer to follow her into the warehouse, away from any prying eyes. As she led the way, the pegasus discreetly whispered to her jailer.
"Why do I get stuck with Bimbo Slice?? I'm not even an agent!"
"Cause Eve's the only freakin' threstal in this hemisphere. They see her and the jig's up. C'mon, I ain't gonna let the big bad birdie hurt ya. Now let's sell it." He roughly shoved her towards the warehouse doorway.
As the three disappeared into the warehouse and the other deputy resumed his patrol, the rest of the mercenaries trudged back to their posts in dissapointment. They had been hoping, nay, praying to thier respective dieties/monarchs that something to break up the tedium of sitting on top of an overpriced hunk of steel. A griffon sharpshooter perched in the topsail shrugged to his mate below, resuming his watch of the incredibly boring horizon. As he did, he caught a tuft of pink and blue out the corner of his eye. He turned in a double-take, but saw nothing but the empty deck of the sub below him.
Wait, was that hatch open before? ...Eh, who gives a tailfeather. He hefted his rifle and continued scanning the empty sea.
The two policeponies at the watch station desk barely looked up as Cover Story strolled through the front door. One waved a hoof in his direction, muzzle still buried in a newspaper. "Hey Shield, that you? Sucks you and Phalanx got stuck with the swing shift." Cover gave a noncomittal grunt, avoiding eye contact as he trotted past Trot's finest and down the hallway. "Fresh coffee in the breakroom if you want any." The policepony licked a hoof, turning over the page. He grimaced and turned to his desk partner. "Ugh. Manehattan lost to Buffalo again. Halfway around the world and they still manage to disappoint."
Cover trotted straight down the hallway into the telegraph room. He locked the door and pressed a hoof to his ear, speaking quietly into his mic, "Ground One, in position."
"Suppose I should make myself scarce right 'bout now." Double Cross remarked. The dark, windowless room was lit only by a single harsh lamp, aimed right at Night Glider's face. The pegasus sat at a bare metal desk, hooves cuffed to the tabletop. The big griffoness paced across from her, eyeing up her newest prey. "Just don't leave any marks I can't explain at the station, okay?"
"Sure, sure. One of the lackeys will show you the way out," the griffon waved her claw dismissively. "So, little filly, what's your name?"
Night Glider said nothing, straining against her cuffs and glaring at the griffon with a mixture of determination and fear.
The griffon rolled her eyes. "Listen, kid. I'm not a cop, I don't give a damn about your crook friends. But I am very bored, and if you're not going to contribute to the conversation, I'll find some other way to entertain myself. Now let's try again, I'm Glasgow. What's your name?"
"N-Night Glider."
Glasgow grinned. She set her front claws on the desk, looming over Night Glider. She heard a muffled thump from outside the room but ignored it, not wanting to lose her momentum now that this filly was properly intimidated. "Well Night Glider, you said that my bosses paid off the police on this cruddy little island. Tell me, what else have you heard?"
"Nothing, I swear!"
"Wow, you want to get to the fun part quick, don't you?" She pulled out a hunting knife and slid the tip along the table next to Night Glider's hooves. The blade screeched horribly. "Maybe I'll just have to show you how I earned the name Glasgow." She heard hoofsteps approach the door and push it open. "What do you think, Dead-Eye? Should we show the little filly how the Blackbeaks do things?"
"I think ya need new lackeys." She whirled around, startled. Double Cross stood in the doorway, holding Dead-Eye's limp form in a chokehold for a second before letting him slide to the floor. "None of yer minions knew where the exit was." He shrugged.
"What in Tartarus are you DOING!?" Glasgow shrieked, jumping to her paws. She advanced on Double with the knife, ready to tear into the smaller pony with blade and claw.
*THWAK**THWAK**THWAK*
Glasgow looked down at the three crossbow bolts buried in her side, shock written all over her face. Night Glider stood with a hoof extended towards her, a small crossbow pistol strapped to the fetlock. "Bad kitty," she quipped. "Forgot to check the cuffs."
Glasgow opened her beak to say something, but the words never came. She collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Double gave Night Glider a look. "Sooo... first kill?"
"Um, yep."
"So that means..."
"First one-liner. I know, you don't have to say it. It sucked."
"Well, it wasn't not bad."
"Uuugh, I can't believe it! I was so nervous about this too, and now it's just over and gone! Ms. Mist kept telling me how a good one-liner needs to be in the heat of the moment, how you can't plan one, but I tried just going with the flow and it was horrible!"
"Look, yer being too hard on yerself. Everypony's first time is a letdown, no way around it."
"I guess you're right. Still, after all that..."
"Tell ya what, why don't we search this warehouse for any big red files that say 'TOP SECRET EVIL PLOT' and then ya can head back up to the sky with Eve? Trust me, if ya stick with her ya'll get plenty more chances fer one-liners."
"Thanks, Mr. Cross. Heh, you said 'plot.'"
"I can see why Eve likes ya."
As soon as Sweetie made it down the sub's hatch ladder, she ducked into a darkened side corridor. Even though the Red Sorena was designed for griffons' larger frames, it wasn't what you'd call 'spacious' or 'not opressively claustrophobic'. Out of sight of anypony wandering the boat's main traverse, she began to slowly peel off her soaking-wet ninja suit. The furious underwater swim to the far side of the sub and climb up to the deck during the tiny window her teammates' dog-and-pony show had alloted her wasn't fun. Still, it got her aboard without a firefight, and now all she had to do was make it to the comm room without alerting anyp--
"Hey, are you one of the new divers? The dive airlock is aft of the conn tower, there's a changing room there too."
Sweetie jumped. A unicorn engineer sat behind her, occupying the rest of her little alcove as he worked on one of a thousand ubliqitous pipes. "Oh! Thank you!"
"No problem."
Okay. Now she just had to make it to the comm room without alerting anypony else, plant the tracking crystal, snoop around for any evidence of what the doctor was up to, maybe find the doctor herself, take her down personally, sabotage the submarine, and sneak back out. Well, maybe not all of that but she liked to dream big. She started off towards the comm room, then paused.
"Um, do you know where the comm room is too? Sorry, it's my first day aboard and I'm just so lost."
"Second deck, amidships."
"Thanks again!" She smiled and trotted off.
Double Cross and Night Glider tore folders of various size out of the filing cabinets in the warehouse's management office. Neither knew exactly what they were looking for, they both skimmed files with the idea that they'd know it when they saw it. Discarded papers were uncerimoniously tossed to the floor, forming a small pile next to the larger heap that was the office's unfortunate previous occupant.
"Hey, look at this." Double Cross glanced up from the reactor-maintenance schedule in his hoof. Night Glider's brow was furrowed in concentration. "It's a telegram transcript between Professor Bathysphere and somepony who goes by 'Management. They keep talking about docking the sub at Berth and 'releasing the Kraken'. But I thought Krakens were huge, right? Like, bigger than dragons?"
"Hmm," Cross scratched his mane. "Yer right, they're bigger'n this whole island. Far as I know, there's only one Kraken left anyways, off the coast of Minos. This doesn't make any sense, why would they paint the Sorena in pony colors if they're gonna sail it into minotaur waters first?"
"Maybe it's code for something else?"
"Maybe. I better call this in. Why don't ya sneak out a skylight and meet up with Eve? I got this covered, and if things get rowdy we're gonna need all the air support we can get."
Night Glider nodded and took off, soaring out the office towards the warehouse's high cieling. Double cued up his radio as he looked over the transcripts. "Ground One, this is Ground Two, got a message fer Base."
Sweetie eased open the hatch to the comm room with the tip of her crossbow, slowly scanning the room in front of her. Making her way through the boat hadn't been easy. She had gotten lucky with the first crewmember, engineers were generally asocial and tended to ignore the greater world around them when focused on her work. She didn't want to roll the dice again, ducking out of sight whenever a guard or wandering crewmember happened by. The first sailor that matched Sweetie's height and build had graciously 'donated' her uniform to the cause, letting Sweetie roam more freely. The unlucky henchmare was currently sleeping off a concussion and compound leg fracture somewhere near the bilge.
Seeing nopony in the cramped comm room, Sweetie slung her bow and trotted over to the longwave radio set. She pulled out her tools, working quickly to remove the front panel. She then started sorting through wires, looking for a good place to install the tracking crystal. She needed to connect it to both a power circuit and the boat's long-range antenna. As she tested a few wires for proper voltage, her radio crackled. "Ground Three, this is Ground One."
"Ground One go ahead."
"Warehouse was a bust, all Ground Two found were some communications between the professor and somepony advising her. Still don't know who or why. Waiting to hear back from our fearless leaders, let me know if you find anything on your end?"
Sweetie tensed as she heard something shuffling behind her. "Ground Three wilco." She took her hoof off her ear and pretended to dive back into her work, ears attuned for anything out of place.
She propped the voltmeter up in front of her. Service infiltrator equipment was often designed to look like something innocuous should an agent be stopped and searched. In this case, the little device resembled a makeup compact. While the makeup part was fake, hiding two wires ending in alligator clips, the mirror was perfectly functional. She pretended to fiddle with the guts of the radio, keeping one eye on the room behind her. She heard a soft thump, and quickly angled the mirror to spot a pegasus clumsily extracting himself from an air vent near the floor.
The cautious stallion slowly crept up behind her as she continued to play dumb. Her eyes narrowed as he extended a trembling hoof towards her withers.
The second she felt the hoof touch her, she sprung into action. She grabbed the hoof in both forelegs, whirling around. The stallion, caught up in her momentum, sailed over her head and crashed into a console. She twisted his hoof around, pinning him.
"AAAAAAAAUGH!"
Faust, this guy was loud. She freed a forehoof and braced it against the back of his head, pulling him back and bouncing his skull off a bulkhead a few times.
"OW! OW! OW! PLEASE DON'T KILL MEEEEE!"
Why is it that the whiny ones never know when to go down? She stopped slamming his head against the wall, instead throwing his lighter frame to the floor so she could work him over with both forehooves.
"OOF! OOF! WAITSAMETEAMSAMETEAM! PLEASE STOP-OOF!-THIS REALLY HURTS!"
She froze, one hoof drawn back ready to strike again. She narrowerd her eyes and grabbed her crossbow, aiming it between the pegasus's eyes. "Talk. Now."
"We're on the same side! I'm Royal Guard, Yoke Mountain Garrison! I was captured in the attack last week and they locked me up in the brig here and ohCelestiapleasedon'tshootmeeee!"
Sweetie stood, backing off the blubbering stallion. She gave him a once-over, keeping her crossbow trained in his direction. Cropped blue mane just a little longer than regulation. Shield-and-lightning-bolt Cutie Mark. Panicked, bewilderd expression. Everything about this pony screamed Guard. Still, she didn't lower her bow just yet. "Name and rank, trooper."
The pegasus still managed to pull off a passable salute from his crumpled heap on the floor. "Lance Corporal Flash Sentry, ma'am. I-ow-I'm sorry I startled you there. I saw you messing with that tracking crystal and figured you were a good guy. Er-girl. Good girl. You know what I mean?"
"I think you learned your lesson," Sweetie rolled her eyes. She lowered her bow and offered Flash a hoof, pulling him up. He wobbled unsteadily as he got his legs under him again. "Agent Sweetie Drops... with the Ministry of Defense."
"Oh, are you a spook? My dad's mentioned them before. I thought you were like, a Navy commando or something." He motioned to her dripping wet mane.
Serously?? Is there some sort of 'friends and family' exception to TOP-FREAKING-SECRET that I don't know about? "Yes, I'm a spook. Not that you should even know that, but I'm kind of in the middle of my biggest mission ever here and this is VERY important to me, so could you be a sweetheart and cover the hatch? We're lucky it was closed, by the way. Doubt anypony heard you."
"S-ow-sure. Got an extra crossbow?"
"I only have the one, Corporal. I dont carry around a stash of weapons with me. You didn't steal one when you escaped from the brig?"
"No, I jimmied the lock when the guard was in the head and came right here to send out a distress call. I heard you coming, so I hid in the vent. Then you beat the feathers off my wings, and now we're here. Why?"
Sweetie's eyes widened in fear. "Wait, you sent out a distress broadcast? Like, on the emergency frequency?"
Flash stared, confused. "Well, sure, why wouldn't I? Needed a ride home, I didn't know some badass secret agents were already here. The Guard's looking for these jerks anyway."
Panic set in. Sweetie grabbed him, snarling. "It's called the emergency frequency for a reason, you moron! Everypony can hear it!!!"
As if on cue, an earsplitting whistle sounded from the sub's speakers. "General quarters, general quarters. All crew to action stations. Prepare to cast off." A klaxon alarm blared.
Flash grinned sheepishly. "Oops?"
She released the rattled soldier, wheeling around. She spotted a socket wrench near the hatch and hooved it over to him. "Take this, we're gonna have company."