Don't Push That Button
A shocked silence permeated through every nook and cranny of the throne room. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you.” She gave her head a quick shake, as if to remove water from an ear. “It sounded like you said you asked for a crew.”
“No mistake, ma’am. That’s exactly for what I asked.”
Mark couldn’t tell if Celestia still didn’t understand his request, or if his words simply didn’t make sense in her own mind. “Might I ask why you would make such a bold appeal so soon in your new military career?”
“I’ll admit, your highness, I’ve been debating myself this very morning on whether or not to make my statement about the Caprica’s need of having a crew aboard her decks again. To put it simply...” He paused. “The Caprica is dying. Des has to put more effort into keeping her in orbit. Her engines need service, as do about a hundred other systems. I am only one man, and can only do so much. By the time I have repaired one component of a system, three more pop up at the diagnostics station as sending red flags.”
“So your plan of action is to bring up a group of soldiers--”
“Volunteers. And any engineers that might be able to lend a hoof.”
“--and have them do… what, exactly?”
“Prevent the Caprica from exploding.” The sound of gasps and feelings of shock filled the hall. “She’s in worse shape that what we thought. The ship’s faster-than-light drives were thought to be fried and unusable, but apparently they have been working all along, and have put a huge drain on the main power supply. And it’s only getting worse day by day. We need to manually take the drives offline until such a time they can be fixed, and then restore full power back to the sublight engines.”
“This can’t be done yourself?” Twilight asked.
“Unfortunately, no. The two slipspace drives were installed in such a way the only way to take them offline is to remove the power manually. Thing about it is they have to be taken offline at the same time, or the power will redirect to one drive. This was an intended design. In case either one of the drives were destroyed or disabled, the ship could still make a jump, theoretically. It was never tested. With the state that they’re in, taking them offline one at a time will either lead to an entire power failure and she will never be able to run under her own power again, or blow up the entire stern of the ship, raining down fragments large enough to cause harm to anypony on the surface. It needs to be resolved now if we’re going to save the slipspace drives. It’s also throwing random power fluctuations all throughout the ship, and it’s affecting other vital components.”
Celestia let out a tired sigh “If you can find the volunteers, they are yours.”
“Thank you, your highness,” Mark gave a small bow.
The double doors opened, and a very travel-worn Luna strode in. “Sister, good to see you again.” Celestia turned to Twilight and Mark. “Luna has been in the Griffon Kingdom for the last month, helping with the political tension that has been growing there. I know you are weary, Luna, but while Twilight and Mark are present, can you give at least a summarized report?”
“I can, sister. It seems the conflict of the Griffon Clans has come to light once again. I am sure you are all familiar with the history of the Clans?” Twilight nodded. “Mark?”
Mark scratched his head. “I vaguely remember reading something about them. The Goldclaws and the Grayclaws, if I’m remembering it correctly.”
She nodded. “Yes. As you may know, the Grayclaws are the older of the two clans. However, most ponies do not know that they share a common ancestor. In ancient times, all Griffons were Grayclaws, residing in the temperate north of their kingdom, until a war and feudal split sent a sect of Griffons to the south. The exact cause of the split has been lost to time, but many spoken tales tell of a great betrayal to their king, so those who opposed him were banished. These hot, dry southern lands were thought to be uninhabitable, but through feats of engineering, like aqueducts, and finding very fertile soil for planting and rivers for fishing, this splinter group flourished.”
Celestia continued. “It is thought that the exposure to so much warm sun changed their claws from gray to gold over many generations. A group of the newly renamed ‘Goldclaws’ found their way back to their Grayclaw brothers, but the king at the time thought them changed, foul, and unworthy of calling themselves ‘Griffons,’ and started a war of extermination against the Goldclaws. With the knowledge of the southern lands on their side, the Goldclaws fought the Grayclaws to a standstill, and the war ended with the Griffon Kingdom being split into two nations.”
“I’ve seen maps of the Griffon Kingdom before. It’s all one continuous nation, is it not?” Mark asked.
“It is now,” Luna answered. “Five hundred years before the rise of Nightmare Moon, the northern Griffon Kingdom suffered a famine, and the Goldclaws were more than happy to reconcile with their Grayclaw brothers. A year later, the two nations became one again, but the feelings of animosity still lingered, and still exist to this day. And it is unfortunate that there is one Griffon in particular who is using this hostility for political gain.”
“Let me guess.” One of Mark’s hands went to a hip. “An up-and-coming politician is using the Goldclaws as a scapegoat to show his faithful constituents everything that is wrong with their country.”
“Up-and-coming, yes. Politician, no. His name is High General Neadle, and he is the military commander-in-chief for the Griffon Kingdom. Highly motivated, deeply conservative, and, worst of all… charismatic. During my time overseas, I saw thousands drawn for a speech he gave.”
“That’s never a good combination.” Mark stroked his shaven chin. “I’ve seen this happen before. Figurehead fabricates an excuse and blames someone else for it.” He looked to Celestia. “Nothing good will become of this.”
“I have already briefed my commanding officers of the Royal Army, Navy, and Air Force, but they seem to not think it’s of any concern.”
“For now.” Mark pulled out a handheld tablet, making a note. “The Caprica will start monitoring the Griffon Kingdom as soon as we get this matter of the slipspace drives resolved.”
“Monitoring?” Celestia asked in dismay. “Are you sure that is wise?”
“I’ll just see what is going on… from a safe distance.” Mark put away his tablet. “But if you will all excuse me, I have some recruiting to do.”
Post-Equus arrival, day 100
14:45 hours, Canterlot time
Caprica
“No one realizes how much of a pain in the ass all the trips back and forth were better than me,” Mark explained to Spitfire as he led his group to engineering. “If I could have, I would have brought the ship down and used the mechanical lifts. But then again I didn’t know I was going to have a volunteer group of two hundred and forty two.”
“That would have been an easier time on all of us,” the captain of the Wonderbolts replied. “Wouldn’t have taken two days just to get your complement up here.”
A lanky unicorn engineer sheepishly tried to speak. “I found the flight wondrous.”
His words were once again ignored by the two captains who had been bickering since the surface. “Aye, but with the condition she’s in, I doubt we would have been able to get her back up into space, so excuse me for not being timely. It was either that or train some ponies in Hopper flying.”
“With the way things are going with the Griffons, that might not be a bad idea. The reports of random break-ins by Grayclaws into private residences is more than worrisome.”
“So she told you about it, too?”
She shook her head. “Not exactly. I heard it through a friend who heard it through a friend who heard it from somepony else. ‘Course, by the time I heard about things, who knows what they say is even true anymore, let alone relevant.”
“Hearing things through the grapevine has its way of distorting facts,” Mark agreed, reaching into a nearby cabinet and giving his group headsets. “Alright, this should reduce most of the noise while we’re in there. Be sure to talk loud and clear into the microphone. Once we’re inside, I’ll give you instructions on how to take the drives off from the mains.” He donned his own headset. “Can y’all hear me?” All ponies nodded. “Very good. This should be an easy fix, but if not done correctly, we’ll either all die quickly and painlessly, or have a slim chance of making it off the ship in time.”
Opening the hatch into the engineering section filled the compartment before with the smells of burning electrical components and the sound of having a malfunctioning motor placed inside an ear. Though the headsets did provide some protection, Mark could see the engineers were still startled by the sudden loudness of the machinery and hesitant to enter.
The great slipspace drives, to the untrained eye, looked to be nothing more than cuboidal shapes coming out of the vibrating deck, but to Mark, he knew they were humanity’s greatest achievement. “Alright, eggheads, c’mere and I’ll show you how this is done.” The three unicorns trotted nervously next to the port-side drive. “Okay, this panel here--” he pointed to a rectangular plate on a section leading from the deck to the drive, “--will give you access to the main power line. Unscrew these screws, I’ll do the same on the starboard, and await further instructions.”
Spitfire followed Mark to the starboard drive. “Were you being serious about teaching some ponies about flying those Jumpers?”
“You mean Hoppers?”
“Yeah, yeah, you know what I meant.”
“Absolutely.” Mark removed a small handheld drill from a pocket, changing the head to a flat head bit. “I mean, may as well. If we’re gonna have a crew aboard the Caprica again, we probably should train everypony in her intended use.” The last screw holding the plate came loose, and Mark pulled it from its place. The power line was immediately visible, a black, plastic-coated cable three inches in diameter. “Alright, you set over there?” Mark asked as he looked back at the engineers.
“Yes, I believe we are ready,” Ball Bearing replied.
“Do you see the junction between the two lines?”
“I believe so. These two disks in the middle?”
“That’s it. There should be four clamps keeping them together. You need to take them off, but also need to keep the lines connected. Do that now.” While the ponies went to work, Mark began to unclasp the clamps on his side. When two of the clamps had been undone, he pushed the line up to make sure it would not lose its connection. Spitfire must have heard him groan, as he saw a pair of yellow legs pushing pushing the line up from below him.
“Thought you could use a pair of hooves,” she said, staring back up at him.
“Pair of hands might be more useful.” A small chuckle escaped as the final clamps were removed. He turned back to the engineers. “Okay, on the count of three, yank the line out of the junction as quickly as you can. Ready?”
“Wait!” One of the other engineers yelled. “On the count of three, or three and then go?”
“On the count. It’s faster that way. Ready to go?” All three nodded. “One… two… THREE!” With an overdone heave, the line separated from the junction, sending Mark backwards. Immediately the sounds of the drives powering down replaced the great noise of the running systems, the drives quite literally coming to a grinding halt. Even the faces of the engineers winced to hear the metal-on-metal noise.
“You okay, cap?” Spitfire trotted to Mark.
“Yep, yep, just showed a bit too much enthusiasm is all.” Mark popped back to his feet, brushing himself off. He removed his noise-reducing headset. “Much better.”
“So what do we do with these lines now?” one of the other unicorns asked.
“Just push the line back into the bulkhead and reseal the plate. I highly doubt we’ll shake the ship enough to force them back into contact.”
“Bridge to Captain Frude,” Mark heard Des call on the ship’s speakers.
He quickly walked to the comm plate near the hatch. “Go ahead, Des.”
“I am happy to report that the drives were successfully taken offline. Power fluctuations have ceased, and the sublight drives are back at one hundred percent.”
“Great news. I’ll brief them on what else needs to be done. Frude out.” Mark took a tablet from his belt. “Gentlecolts, this will provide you a list of things that need to be done throughout the ship. Most of what is on here are most likely systems that have had a component jarred loose. Ignore the section on sealant inspections. I’ll have to do that myself since that involves an exterior view of the hull. If you have any questions--” he pointed to the comm panel, “--find one of these and press the blue button. That will get you directly to Des, who will hopefully help you with anything you need. Questions?” The engineers held their voices. “Fantastic. Feel free to make notes about anything you see.”
“So what about me?” Spitfire asked. “Got anything for me to do?”
“Well, I did promise you a tour,” Mark said as he moved toward the hatch. “C’mon, we’re near my favorite part of the ship.”
On the deck above engineering and through the crew mess hall was the emergency landing bay. During times of an escape, these two small compartments at the rear of the ship could be opened to space and recover Hoppers and Cobras, but only five Cobras per bay, and three Hoppers if they were landed correctly. It was also the hardest landing for a pilot. Having to come from the rear meant having to fight the ionized engine wash from the ship, and the compact size of the bay meant a smaller target to land on.
But to Mark, the window to the view outside was always worth the work. To others (when the crew was still all human), it was simply another part of the ship. He was never really sure what it was about this spot that he felt the most at peace here. The deck lights were off and the only illumination came from the sun, hidden by one of the ion engines. “Here it is. My ‘zone of zen’ as I like to call it.”
Spitfire hadn’t seemed phased by space on the Hopper ride up from the surface, but the emotion began to pour out of the mare as they moved into the compartment and toward the bay window. “Wow…” was all she could mutter for a time. “It’s so…beautiful.”
I guess it’s the charm of the place. “Yeah, it sure is something.”
“What is it about here that makes it so special?”
“Ya know, I’ve thought about that, and I don’t really know.” His sight shifted from the stars to the golden mare. “I think what I like most about this place is that it was hardly used. When I was tired of seeing the same four walls of my own quarters but still wanted to be alone, this is where I would come. I spent quite a bit of time here after we had to ditch Earth.”
“Well, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t have a certain… appeal to it,” her discipline seemed to reawaken within her.
“Oh, come on!” he said as he leaned against the window. “You can’t tell me that this place just has ‘appeal.’ You’re about as bad at showing emotion as my mother.”
Spitfire returned an angry squint. “Low blow.”
“You’re right, it was. And I’m sorry.”
She gave a cackle of laughter. “If you’re going to have the nerve to insult me, at least have the backbone to pony up to it.”
“Oh… somepony who majored in reverse psychology. Aren’t you ever the clever one?” Mark said as he felt a sarcastic grin come across his lip. “And here I was about to offer you to be my executive officer and second-in-command.”
Spitfire’s jaw dropped, “Really??”
“Yes, really.” He stood upright again. “Celestia sent me your military record when you volunteered for this mission, and I read that you were punctual, blunt, decisive, and disciplined… and not afraid if ponies hate you because of it. Or in other words, exactly what I’m looking for in an XO. You don’t have to take it, of course, but the list of candidates is rather short.”
“Just one question. Does it mean giving up the Wonderbolts?”
“That’s up to you,” Mark replied with a shrug. “You won’t be doing as much flying with them as you were, but we won’t be up here twenty-four/seven either. If you feel like you can balance it, I won’t stop you.”
“I'll have to think about it. The Wonderbolts isn’t something I can just toss aside.”
Mark smiled. “There’s no rush. I mean she’s not gonna see combat ever again.” His smile quickly turned to a frown. “But a warship without a war isn’t a warship.” His eyes shifted to the stars. “Maybe I should have ditched her in the Sun like I was supposed to.” A warrior without a war isn’t a warrior either, he thought. Maybe I should go with it.
“Hey.” she punched him in the shoulder. “I know that look. That ‘I should go down with the ship’ look.”
“Why shouldn’t I? I’ve already lost everything else. My home, my family… it’s all gone.”
“Not everything.” She gestured to him. “You still have your life, Des, your friends, and… well that’s all that I can think of right now that doesn’t involve anything Caprica-related. You still have her, by the way.”
“And what am I supposed to do with her? I can’t just sit here and keep spinning around the same rock in space for the rest of my days.”
“Where else will you go? Can’t jump anywhere, can’t go back, can’t go out there.” She pointed out the window. “At least not for long. How long can you survive on just your hydroponic food?”
“I dunno,” Mark answered, defeated. “Not long enough to find another habitable planet.”
“Exactly. So it looks like you’re stuck here with me.” Her ears perked as high as they could go when she realized the last word she said. “Us. You’re stuck here with us.”
A silence followed as Spitfire turned her gaze back toward the stars. Mark turned to see the faint sign of a blush in her cheeks. “Thanks,” he quietly said. She met his eyes with her own. “I needed that… someone to bring be back to Earth.” She smiled warmly. The silence returned to the compartment as the Sun ducked under the horizon.
The silence was broken when Des’s voice rang throughout the ship. “Bridge to Captain Frude.”
Mark gave a disappointed sigh, moving instead to the comm panel. “This is Mark,” he unenthusiastically said.
“Captain, we’re getting a priority one transmission from Canterlot. It’s Celestia.”
“I show her how to use the communicator one time, and a day later she’s already using it.” He let out another sigh. “Patch it through to here.”
“It’s a priority one call, sir.”
“I’m aware, and whatever is said in front of me can also be said in front of the captain.”
“As you wish.” Des’s voice had gone from serious to cheerful. “It is nice to see that you two have started to play nice.”
“Des, have you been watching us this whole time?” he quickly asked.
“Patching you through now, sir!” A brief moment of static later, the sounds of an active mic came through the speaker.
“Yes, Princess Celestia, what can I do for you?”
“HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME?” the princess shouted.
“Well, I WAS able to hear you, but now I can’t because I think my ears are bleeding. Try speaking softer.”
“Oh, my apologies. Des said to speak loudly into the microphone.”
“Not that loud.” Mark wiggled a finger in an ear. “Anyway, what’s up?”
“I thought I would let you know, since you are monitoring that particular part of the world, that Princess Cadance has volunteered to serve as the next envoy to the Griffon Kingdom. Would you ever be so kind as to watch over her?”
“We’ll do our best to keep an eye on her, but sometimes signals can get lost in the ground clutter. I’ll talk to Des and see if we can do something to get a permanent fix on her.”
“Any effort will help,” Celestia said.
“You can count on us, Princess.”
“Very well.” There was a momentary silence. “How does one end this?”
“You say your name and then say ‘out.’”
“Ah. Celestia out.” The comm crackled as the transmission was cut.
“Well, that was awkward,” Des chimed in on the comm.
“A little,” Mark said, “but not unusual when you’re about to send a loved one overseas into a possibly hostile environment.” Mark gave another sigh. “I’ll be up to the bridge in a minute, Des.”
“Aye, sir. I’ll let the bridge staff know you’re coming.”
Mark brought a hand to his forehead, rubbing his brow. “What do you think, captain?”
“I… think that sending Princess Cadance is a mistake,” she admitted.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Personally I think we should stay out of Griffon business. This isn’t the first time that this kind of a flare up has happened in my lifetime. Granted, I was still in diapers the last time the Grayclaw/Goldclaw conflict came back into world events, but nothing ever became of it.”
“Walk with me,” Mark ordered, beginning his trek to the bridge. “Let’s assume, for a moment, that this isn’t like the last time, that there are Grayclaw Griffons ready and poised to strike at their Goldclaw brothers because they have been convinced that they are not worthy of living. Do we still sit up here and do nothing? Or are we obligated to act?”
“Technically, we’re aren’t obligated to do anything, because we share no allegiance to either clan.”
Mark responded with a grumble. “Everything in my heart and gut says, ‘No, we need to act now,’ but all my tactical experience and my mind says, ‘We can’t.’ Our duty is to the protection of Equestria and her citizens, no matter how much we want to help. But--” he took a breath, “--that doesn’t mean we can’t be prepared to help, if the call comes. I might just take a couple of ponies out for a training run in a Hopper.”
The remaining trip was relatively silent, save for the few ponies that saluted their commanding officer. A unicorn just outside magically opened the hatch leading to the bridge, where an Earth pony stationed at tactical was first to see them. “Captain on the bridge!” he shouted. All other ponies stopped what they were doing and stood at attention.
“As you were,” Mark ordered. The various ponies resumed their duties. “Two days’ training.”
“Better than nothing,” Spitfire said soft enough that only Mark could hear.
“Captain Frude,” Des called from the star chart. “You have that look on your face.”
“And what look is that, Des?”
She walked over to where he stood. “That ‘I’ve got new orders’ look.”
“Well, you’d be right. Helm,” Mark called out, “move the ship to a geostationary orbit within view of the Griffon Kingdom.”
A dark gray pegasus with a jet black mane manning the helm quickly snapped his head around from his seat. “Beg your pardon, sir, but did you just--”
“Yes I did, cadet. Engage,” Mark commanded, a bit more forcefully that he intended. The pegasus promptly returned to his monitors to move the ship.
Des looked to the cadet. “I better go make sure he does it right.”
“Please do,” Mark said as he made his way to the chart. “I don’t want to burn up before we even get to our destination.” Mark picked up a mic for ship-wide broadcasts and pressed the ‘Talk’ button. “All hands, this is Captain Frude. At approximately fifteen hundred hours, we received a transmission from Princess Celestia herself, informing us that Princess Cadance will be travelling to the Griffon Kingdom. Given the new reports of random acts of violence that have been occurring in the Kingdom, Celestia has requested that we monitor Cadance’s movement throughout the country for her safety, and we will comply with her request.
“We are currently moving the ship into a geostationary orbit, and will be there for the entirety of her stay.” A mutter of hushed words circled the bridge. “I know what most of you are thinking. ‘This isn’t what I signed up for.’ And that is true, however, you are all members of the Equestrian Army and Navy, so consider your time here a royal protection detail. That being said, if anypony wishes to end their volunteer assignment early, inform a member of the bridge staff, Des, or myself, and we will arrange a Hopper back to Equestria. That is all.”
In the thirty minutes it took to reposition the Caprica, not one single pony requested to be taken back. The helmsman stood from his seat. “The ship is in position, sir.”
“Very well,” Mark said in acknowledgement. He raised his head from the charting station, showing a topographical map of the Griffon Kingdom. “What’s your name cadet?”
“Wind Burst, sir.”
“Fairly appropriate name.” Mark nodded. “Carry on.”
“Now what?” Spitfire asked.
“Now, we wait… and watch.”
Post-Equus arrival, day 116
08:32 hours, local time
Caprica, geostationary orbit above the Griffon Kingdom
“Sky Eye, this is Star Beam. We are on final approach.”
Thank the gods these ponies learn fast, Mark thought as he watched from flight control.
“Copy that, Star Beam. Deck is clear, cross-traffic is secure, and no exiting vehicles. You are green for stern-approach hooves-on landing on the starboard landing pod. Call the ball.”
“Roger. I have the ball.”
Mark immediately noticed the blip on the radar was moving much too fast. “Star Beam, this is Caprica Actual. Reduce speed by fifty meters per second.” The blip showed the change in the Hopper’s velocity. “Better.”
The blip disappeared as it entered the flight pod. “Star Beam has crossed the threshold, approaching landing platform,” Sky Eye informed the captain. “Star Beam has landed… and has powered down.”
“You know, Star Beam,” Mark said to the pilot via headset, “if you break any one of my birds, you pay for it to get replaced.”
“I think if the Hopper had broken up, I would have most likely ended up dead,” he retorted.
“That still doesn’t mean I won’t come after you in the afterlife. So what did you learn on this flight?”
“Go into the atmosphere at the correct angle so you don’t become a flaming chunk of debris, or you don’t skip off.”
“Well done. Standby and prepare for your next sortie. Caprica Actual out.” As soon as he confirmed his headset was turned off, Mark ripped it from his head and threw it on the console. “Holy shit, we almost lost one.”
Spitfire did her best to calm an agitated Mark. “I know, I know. I saw it, too. But he completed the drill and still managed to land safely.”
“What if this was an actual combat situation? Would he have landed it then?”
“You know I can’t--”
“Uh, captains?” the sensor operator called from his station. “You might want to come look at this.”
Spitfire and Mark exchanged glances before approaching the sensor console, “What do you have, cadet?”
“Cadet Steel Hoof, sir. I’ve been tracking these airships that launched from the western coast of the Griffon Kingdom for the last four hours.”
“That’s not unusual, cadet,” Spitfire said to the young stallion.
“I realize that, ma’am. This is an image from four hours ago. Three ships on the screen.” A press of a button moved the image to the next hour. “Three hours ago, six more join them. Two hours ago, nothing but the previous ships. One hour ago, still the same ships. The ones that launched later must have picked up a good easterly wind to catch up to the first launched. What’s really disturbing--” the screen changed once more, “--was when these six other ships launched thirty minutes ago from known Griffon naval ports along the coast.
“I’ve already drawn up a projection to where the first nine airships are going to land, given current aloft winds and projected trajectory.” The screen flicked black, then back to another image showing wind directions in blue lines, and the outlines of landmasses in green. “Given the current wind speed and direction, and the fact they must be very light, I’m projecting landfall in or around Manehattan at or around fourteen hundred hours local time, give or take thirty minutes.”
“How do you know they’re running light?” Mark inquired.
“Well, they’re moving close to a hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, sir. Griffon airships aren’t ever known to go that fast.”
“Well… this is damn peculiar,” Mark muttered as he studied the screen. “Captain, your thoughts.”
“I don’t know what to think about this. It’s all so… sudden, these ships launching.”
“Where did the first wave of ships launch?” Mark asked Steel Hoof.
“Nowhere of note,” he answered, “only that they were near the shore.”
“Near the water’s edge, the middle of the night, traveling fast and light,” Spitfire thought aloud. “Sounds like some Griffons are trying to get away from other Griffons.”
Mark went back to the star chart, bringing up a terrestrial scan. “And we’re above a kingdom that would like nothing more than to see one particular group eliminated.”
“And with the second wave of airships going after the first…”
“I think it’s safe to assume that the first group is Goldclaws…”
“And the second is Grayclaw loyalists, going after them.”
Mark rubbed his face. “Comms, what time is it in Canterlot?”
“Zero-three-thirty-five, sir,” the comms operator answered.
“Get me a line through to Luna. Cadet Steel Hoof, do you have a fix on Princess Cadance’s location?”
“Aye, sir,” he quickly replied. “In a northern establishment, about five miles from the western shore. It doesn’t look like she’s moved much, though.”
Mark breathed a momentary sigh of relief. “At least we know where she is.”
“Signal! Princess Luna on the comms.”
Mark picked up a headset. “Luna, I have urgent news.”
“Do you know what time it is?” she scolded.
“With good reason, too. In about six hours you’re going to have nine balloon airships landing in Manehattan, and they’re all going to be filled with Goldclaw refugees.”
“Are you certain they will be landing in Manehattan?”
Steel Hoof gave a nod. “We’re about positive ma’am. But there’s more. We’ve also detected six other airships that we believe are Grayclaw loyalists with orders to pursue.”
“I understand. Once I ‘rouse ‘Tia, I will alert the Equestrian National Guard division of Manehattan to prepare for refugees.”
Spitfire decided to chime in. “I would switch those two around, your highness. There is a very real possibility the Grayclaw pursuers will turn hostile.”
Mark continued. “A lot of Griffons are gonna be scared, some of them might be injured. You might have to call in surrounding battalions to be safe.”
“We will,” Luna acknowledged. “Keep us informed.”
“Will do. Caprica out.” Mark removed the headset, running a hand over his scalp. “There’s still something I don’t get. Why Manehattan?”
“The wind?” Spitfire suggested.
“They could have gone any night. Why tonight?”
“Sir,” a voice from the helm came over the chair, “I believe I have an answer.”
“Explain your solution, Cadet Wind Burst.”
“Unnatural protection. The Grayclaws would be stupid to attack any Goldclaw in the sprawling metropolis of Manehattan with running the very real risk of hitting a pony.”
Mark was taken aback at the simplistic genius of the solution. “That actually makes sense. And if they are stupid enough?”
“Then Princesses help them,” the helmsman said.
Mark picked up the shipwide broadcast handset. “All hands, this is the captain. Moments ago, this ship detected nine Goldclaw refugee balloon airships approaching Manehattan. They will arrive on Equestrian soil in approximately six hours. These airships are being pursued by what we assume are Grayclaw soldiers, intent on intercepting the Goldclaws. We believe that the refugees will make safe landfall before the Grayclaw ships will reach them.
“However, there is a very real possibility that these tired and frightened Griffons will still not be safe when they reach Equestria. These Grayclaw pursuers may still act on their orders despite being in sovereign foreign territory, and we must not discount that their orders are of violent nature. Why these Goldclaws have chose to run… doesn’t really matter right now. What matters now is we prepare this ship for combat.
“I know when I first recruited all of you, I promised that it would be an easy assignment. I regret to tell you that I must break that promise. I’m simply asking you to use the systems and the defenses of the Caprica a little bit sooner than anticipated. Remember your training, do not hesitate to ask, and we will all see the end of this day. That is all. Set Condition Two throughout the ship.”
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My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
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Would love to see the Battlestar appear right over those airships in the atmosphere, bearing the Equestrian colors...
...alas, I think Cadence has been taken hostage...
4978440 Oh yeah, I so totally agree with about Caddie being taken hostage.
Waiting for more
I have to ask... realistically... what could anyone, short of the Princesses, and maybe Twilight, ACTUALLY do to the Caprica herself? She is, in essence, an invincible mobile force projection... :D
4978440
That is of course if the Caprica was repainted in Equestrian colors. As for Cadence we don't know that for sure, I hope that they managed to at least get something for Cadence that would go alone with her regala to send a distress signal if she was captured. Also the fact that the Battlestar was infact monitoring and keeping an Eye on cadence i think they may have seen if she was captured or not. Then again i have been wrong before guess we need to wait and see how this all plays out. I think there might be something happening between Mark and Spitfire tho cant say for sure but looks like she might like him.
this spitfire better be better than the one in the show
Booyeah! i knew the ponies could crew the caprica effectively, and in such a shorter time frame too!
i am most pleased. though i hope the caprica will face some real challenges in the future and not be too OP in desperate situations, we await the conclusion with bated (and might i add, very minty fresh) breath.
Markfire! Ship it like FedEx! Ship it like FedEx!
Wow. Stuff is about to go down! I like the story so far! Keep it up:)
This is why I enjoy this series so far!
You need to separate two people (ponies) from talking in the same paragraph.
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This sentence bothers me because it looks long. Try saying it out loud and see if u can finish it without having to take another breath.
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As far as I can tell, Luna is talking here:
But when I go to here:
Who is She? Is it Luna or Celestia because when we get to here:
Was it Celestia all along or Luna started and Celestia that finished?
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Good story so far. Keep it up.
This is awesome
keep up the great work 
4978931 I think they will be in the battles for the entire planet itself because I just don't see the Griffon can do much against the Caprica...Then you might see the things you want...And it will basicly become the Galactica... Actually...It is kinda like the Galactica already, the only ship that managed to escape destruction...
Is this going to be a Shipfire fic?
Hmm. I find the worldbuilding a bit weird and forced to generate this conflict.
I mean you could have used a large monster rampage, a natural disaster, a magical mishap, a villain redux, anything really. Instead you made Griffons genocidal dicks.
Are you just trying to get Gilda as a crew member or something?
'Dawww, the ponies playing spaceship crew are adorable!
Alternative: OFFICER ON DECK!