The War Begins: 14 - Call of Duty
Dear readers—
I write this short introduction whilst my father, Admiral Tailwind, is in surgery, in the middle of an all-day operation that, if successful, will at long last restore his ability to fly. Though perchance ‘tis understandable that my mind is anywhere but on the Battle of Epsilon at this moment, ‘twould seem that my father was dwelling on it just a few short hours ago.
Unable to sleep as he awaited the morn and contemplating his uncertain fate to follow, and having read Commodore Shady’s entry from the previous chapter, he elected to distract himself from his fears and worries by penning his own recollections of the battle group’s approach to Outpost Epsilon. So before we begin the tale, allow me to present his writings, which he passed to me literally just before he was wheeled into the operating room, saying that whatever happened, he wished me to have and include this accounting of events in the next chapter.
I will do so gladly, and perchance before long I will begin penning the story of the battle myself for distraction as he still has several hours of surgery to go, and longer still to know if it worked.
—Firefly
Fair skies and following winds to all who now read this. As the hour of my long-awaited operation becomes nigh, I find myself increasingly restless and unable to sleep, having declined the relaxation and anti-anxiety spells that were offered to me. With apologies to the healers and surgical specialists assigned to me, I simply do not trust mood-altering magic and never have. I want my wits sharp and head clear for the day to come, even if I am to be unconscious during the course of it.
In truth, ‘twas a surprising parallel between my current mood and what I recalled of that first night of war that made me want to pick up the quill again, even at this late hour. That perchance I only truly understood what some of my subordinates were going through on the approach to Epsilon when I experienced it from the other side myself—knowing that they were going to enter combat soon and not knowing if they would emerge from it.
They were frightened, but determined, even in the face of possible and perchance even likely death. Death is not a likely outcome of this procedure, of course, but is still possible, and I find myself facing it with the same anxiety, fearful of the outcome.
‘Twas then I realized the fear I have now is the same fear they—and I—felt back then; afraid not of dying, but of failure and all that it would mean.
As I read through Commodore Shady’s accounting of events, including her recounting the talk she had with Admiral Coral Torch, I find myself at a bit of a loss. I was told of the Admiral’s call when I returned to the bridge, of course, as well as the Captain’s decision to defy orders. But what I did not know was that then-Captain Shady took full responsibility for the decision and did not even mention to the Admiral that ‘twas me who convinced her to make it. Had I been on the bridge then, I would not have allowed her to do so, offering myself up to the Admiral for arrest and court-martial in her place.
But Shady believed very strongly that a Captain was responsible for all that happened on her ship, and thus, my actions became her own, wholeheartedly embraced and backed. ‘Tis for that reason more than any other I became so fiercely loyal to her afterwards, as did the crew of the Loyalty itself.
Signed,
—Admiral Tailwind
Commander, Royal Navy
Royal Navy Base Polaris
Canterlot
Observation Deck
EAS Loyalty
330 miles WNW of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0040 hours
I had left the bridge an hour earlier, carrying out the Captain’s orders to run another gunnery drill.
‘Twas a simple enough exercise in releasing bewitched and erratically moving practice balloons and having our ballistae target them with what we called “dry fire”, using false ammunition that would go off harmlessly and noiselessly but leave a visible trace in the air, allowing us to see if their aim was true.
Hitting them was still proving far more difficult to our crews than methinks I would have liked. Though there had been some improvement in the course of four separate drills, we had reached the point of diminishing returns: the performance of our gunners was most charitably described as passable, and I knew ‘twas not likely to improve any further before our likely battle. Our crew was tense and on edge, but perchance as Shady had sensed with me, doing the drills at least kept our minds occupied, preventing us from brooding too much about what might be happening… or would happen in the hours to come.
‘Twas just as well, methinks, given we’d already lost nearly forty crew to desertion out of the whole of the battle group, including a half-dozen pegasi from the Loyalty’s already-understrength attack squadrons. ‘Twas certain my biggest fear was that a few leaving might inevitably lead to more, but thus far it hadn’t happened, though our intimidating air wing leader, Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight, perchance had a part in that with regard to her flyers.
After the first few desertions, she’d pulled all her squadrons into their large ready room and told them that any ponies who were even thinking about following them would answer to her; that she was fighting and would brook no cowardice—that she’d “come after them from Tartarus itself!” if she had to, and somehow, nopony doubted she could.
In theory, our century-and-a-half-sized air wing served two purposes: the first was to provide close defense against the swarming attacks of Gryphon or Harpy raiders, whilst the second was to be able to launch strikes against enemy air and ground forces ‘over the horizon’, giving the Navy of old a much longer reach than the Aerial Corps, and weapons to match the task. They were armed with not just wingblades but two wrist-mounted single-use crossbows the Corps disdained due to their limited range and accuracy, preloaded with armor-piercing or high-explosive bolts depending on the mission.
Though their efficacy was dubious against gryphon soldiers, whose crossbows out-ranged ours and were quickly reloadable given the manual dexterity of their talons, ‘twas my hope nonetheless that they would catch the Imperials off-guard and allow our air wing to get in a surprise first strike.
Phantom Flight’s words had had their effect; there’d been no further reports of desertions and she’d drilled her flyers hard in the meantime before sending them below to snag a few hours of sleep.
I doubted they would get any; a pass through the crew berths showed none of the racks were filled. As midnight came and went, I found myself on the airship’s topmost observation deck, looking out over the receding Celestial Sea, tinted a ruddy hue by the ominous blood-red moon. Though I could not see the mare in the moon as the Loyalty’s four large dirigible balloons were in the way, their flattened oval shapes concealing the sky above, I found myself praying to the lost Princess Luna to grant her former service her favor and that we would arrive at Epsilon in enough time for it to matter.
Turning back to the east where Epsilon lay, I was surprised to see a small area of very frequent lightning flashes coming from far over the horizon, just visible in the distance; once or twice I even saw a rare blue jet or reddish sprite if I squinted my eyes just right.
I wasn’t sure what it meant—though the weather was wild over Gryphon lands, it did not look like a naturally-occurring thunderstorm to me, being as intense and isolated as it was over the distant desert sands, and ‘twas coming from what I roughly calculated to be the direction of Epsilon.
Was it their doing? A last-ditch defense, mayhap? Had they decided to go out in a blaze of glory, making the storm in an attempt to take as many of the Gryphons with them as they could…?
I knew not the answer, only what I sensed or at least desperately hoped in my heart—that my daughter and her battalion were still alive and fighting, awaiting a rescue they were certain would never come.
Regardless of the answer, ‘twould take us another four hours to reach them on our current course, and storm or no, the odds of their lasting that long seemed remote at best. But there was nothing for it—the Captain’s orders were final, and as much as I hated to admit it, her logic was sound—if we tried to reach Epsilon directly, plowing right through the forward gryphon forces, we stood little chance of making it.
Sensing myself starting to worry and brood again, I decided to head back below, but a surprising sound caught my ear—laughter. Searching for its source, I found it on the other side of the observation deck, coming from three of our air wing pegasi. They were already dressed for battle in dark blue combat uniforms instead of their usual white day ones. They were nearly invisible in the darkness against their indigo fur dye, making them look like the thestrals that once populated the Royal Navy, their sheathed blades glinting with starlight on their backs. They were trading jokes, but also drinks from a rather large flask of some sort, causing my eyes to narrow and myself to decide to approach them.
Two were mares, one was a stallion, and ‘twas the higher-ranked latter who saw me first, his eyes going wide as he hurriedly hid the flask. “Attention on deck!” he shouted, causing heads to turn towards me, and then all three to suddenly come to rigid attention and salute. “G-Good evening, Commander…” he greeted me, somewhat nervously as I stalked up to them, looming over them with my larger size.
I recognized him as Lieutenant Junior Grade Shooting Star, 3rd squadron’s 1st flight leader. “You three are supposed to be sleeping below! What in Luna’s name are you doing out here?” I challenged them sternly.
They looked at each other before replying; ‘twas again the stallion who spoke up first. “We… can’t sleep, commander,” he admitted. “We tried; we just can’t.”
“I see…” I nodded my understanding. Orders or no, perchance ‘twas a bit much to ask the crew to simply turn off their minds and worries given that we were flying to war. “Very well, then, Lieutenant. What’s on your mind?” I asked, thinking that perchance I could ease their anxieties a bit even if ‘twas impossible for me to ease my own.
“Everything, sir,” Shooting Star replied in an upper-class Canterlot accent, his eyes going distant as he stared out to the east, his gaze fixed on the distant lightning.
“Life. Death. War. Our chances,” answered the first of his flight mares, Ensign Backing Wind, another glint of lightning in the far distance catching our collective eye. “We’re too anxious to sleep, sir. We know we could die in the next few hours.”
“And how are we supposed to sleep knowing that?” the other mare of his flight, Ensign Dawn Dreamer, asked me. “With respect, I don’t want to sleep, sir. If we are to die this night, methinks I want to savor every moment I still have left, awake and in the company of my friends.”
Though I’d been about to order them below, I relented—how could I not upon hearing such words? “’Tis a fine sentiment, methinks. And one that will serve you well. ‘Tis understandable to be anxious. But know that if you fight for each other as much as Equestria, be assured you will find your warrior heart,” I told them, repeating something Silent Night had said to me once.
I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing at that moment. Methinks I knew only too well that once she learned of the gryphon invasion, she’d probably return to active duty immediately; I’d be lucky to ever see her again if she rejoined the Lances.
“Warrior?” Shooting Star gave a short, bitter laugh. “I’m no warrior, sir. Methinks a warrior wouldn’t be shaking in his horseshoes, wishing he were anywhere else but here. Methinks a warrior would be hungry for battle instead of dreading it!” he said openly, visibly swallowing at the sight of the distant storm, and then went downcast. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just… methinks the truth is that though I may look the part, I’m just playing at soldier. The truth is that I’m scared out of my mind, sir. And ’tis certain I feel like such a coward.” He looked down in shame even as his flightmares stood closer to instinctively protect him.
“’Tis certain you aren’t,” I told him gently but firmly, putting a hoof on his chest. “The cowards are the ones who already fled. But you three didn’t. You stayed, and ‘tis to your great credit,” I reminded them all.
“But…” Shooting Star trailed off uncertainly.
“But nothing, Lieutenant,” I insisted. “Courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s acting in spite of it. So I ask all of you now: Scared or no, are you prepared to fight this night?”
They exchanged a series of glances, then all nodded, if somewhat jerkily.
“Then that is all I ask,” I said, my heart warming at the sight even as it went out to them. They were scared—very scared—but were still ready and willing to do their duty even if it cost them their lives. “Tell me, Lieutenant… where are you from?”
He looked surprised at the question, perchance believing I already knew the answer. “Canterlot, sir.”
Which I in fact did, knowing full well he was the son of a minor noblepony, and as such would likely inherit his sire’s title one day. But the question was but a prelude to another one: “And why did you join the Navy?”
Shooting Star looked ashamed, but answered. “Well, sir… I joined the Royal Navy because I washed out of the Guard,” he admitted. “The Sergeant Major in charge of basic there told me I didn’t have what it takes, and he was right—I quit basic after a week.
“But I still wanted to wear a uniform. I still wanted to give my foals somepony to look up to whilst remaining reasonably close to Canterlot and able to see my herd frequently. And well...” He grimaced slightly, but still voiced his next thought. “That meant the Navy.”
I took no offense, knowing that was a very common story in Luna’s former service; far too many nobleponies chose service there so they could wear a uniform without the risk. “I see. And how about you, Ensign Backing Wind?”
She turned brooding, even angry at the question. “I grew up in Cloudsdale, sir, in a broken herd with a drunkard sire and a missing mother. And for it, methinks I wanted to leave in the worst possible way,” she said.
“’Twas nothing there for me but the most menial of weather work, and I did not wish to live my life with my head in the literal clouds. I wanted to serve, but given my lack of schooling and inability to hold a job, both the Corps and Cloudsdale militia rejected me. In the end, nopony but the Navy would accept me,” she recalled. “And I am grateful to it.”
I smiled in approval. “Then methinks you have something in common with our Captain, Ensign. And you, Dawn Dreamer?” I turned to the other flight mare.
“Me, sir?” She gave a nervous laugh. “Nothing but pie-in-the-sky fantasies of traveling on these airships, seeing the world from them. I was born and raised in Stalliongrad. I saw the airships there as a foal and liked them, sir. Enlisting meant I could stay near home but still see at least some of Equestria. And, well… nopony ever truly believed we would see combat.”
“’Tis true…” I nodded grimly. If Naval Battle Group Four had any military mission outside of being a testing ground for the weapons labs of Stalliongrad, ‘twas in fact to backstop the western frontier against the Harpy clans that lived in the rugged and rocky mountains past the plains that marked Equestria’s western border.
An arboreal and avian race who fancied themselves pirates and whose nation was most charitably described as a loose confederation of clans, the upright-walking and raptor-like Harpies were generally hostile to ponies and their more aggressive tribes occasionally mounted raids out of their mountain strongholds against our towns and villages there.
As they were but short range flyers, they tended to strike using small, sleek wooden airships of their own design and make called corsairs, launching hit-and-fly raids that, when well-planned, could be very hard for the Corps to counter.
Though inferior in flight to pegasi, they were not to be trifled with, having launched some successful—to say nothing of very bloody—raids on pony towns and farms in the past; retaliatory strikes into the mountains against them had oft gone poorly. Despite their limited numbers and resources, they were excellent shipbuilders in possession of blades and ballistae of their own; ‘twas the job of the Aerial Corps 3rd Division to keep them in check, defending the farms and villages of the western plains against them.
But the Harpies were not who we faced just then—the Gryphons were—though perchance if I’d given it more thought at the time, I might have considered whether our sudden departure from Stalliongrad would embolden them. “Then tell me, all of you… why are you still here?” I asked them point-blank. “Why have you chosen to stay and fight when you could far more simply and safely dive off the side of the ship and nopony would ever find you?
Shooting Star looked ashamed. “Believe me, ‘tis certain I thought about it, sir. And ‘tis certain I still do!” he admitted with fresh shame though Backing Wind just scoffed at the notion—of the three she seemed the most ready and eager to fight. “But ‘tis also certain I won’t.”
“And why not?” I challenged. I was trying to steel him, but also genuinely curious as well.
“Aside from the fact that ‘tis certain Phantom Flight or Backing Wind here would kill me in place of the Gryphons?” He managed a weak chuckle as the other mare smiled. Then he exhaled hard and forced his eyes up to meet mine.
“Because methinks I could never look at myself in the mirror again if I did, sir. Because even if we won the war and Equestria survived the invasion, I could never look my own son and daughters in the eye if I did. Because far better ponies than me are out there right now, fighting and dying!” He pointed with a hoof at the lightning flashes far over the horizon. And ‘twas it my imagination, or were they starting to slacken?
“At least if I fall here, I do something I always dreamed of—served a greater good. Perchance then I can at least rest in peace knowing I did my duty—that I overcame my fears and fought to defend my foals and all I held dear. And perchance my foals will know that I died the soldier and warrior they fancy me to be, and remember me well.”
“Well said,” I granted, but kept to myself the thought that if we fell on the frontier this night, none might know our names or our fate. “And what of you, Backing Wind?”
“Me? Live or die, I’m ready and eager to fight, sir!” she announced, deploying her wingblades for emphasis. “Methinks I got in enough brawls back at Cloudsdale growing up to know fighting was for me—in truth, ‘twas the only thing I was ever good at. I originally wanted to join the Corps to fight, so as far as I’m concerned? I couldn’t be happier. Methinks I’m finally fulfilling my purpose!” she proclaimed. “And if I can fight with my friends at my side, helping them through it? ‘Tis so much the better!”
I grinned, happy to see it—happy to see there was at least one pegasus from our air wing with her attitude outside of their commander. Fear was contagious but so was courage; ‘twas certain that even a few like her and Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight would go a long way towards steeling spines amongst our crew.
“‘Tis heartening to hear. And you, Dawn Dreamer?”
She sighed and looked down at the deck for a moment. “I don’t want to die any more than they do. I’m fighting because they’re fighting, sir. Because they’re my friends and ‘tis certain I couldn’t live with myself if I abandoned them now.”
I smiled and nodded. “Then ‘tis certain to me you will all do well when the time comes. If you fight for each other as much as Equestria, then ‘tis certain you will find your soldier’s spirit,” I promised them again, but then my expression went dark. “But before that… perchance you wouldst explain what was in that flask I saw?” I asked Shooting Star, my expression and voice turning stern.
He all but cringed, but he brought it out; a large and ornate copper flask with a cork top that looked like it had been obtained from Canterlot at some point. “’Tis filled with Lunar Moonshine, sir. Direct from the ship’s still.”
“I see,” I nodded gravely even as I suppressed another smile, then held out my hoof for it. Shady and I had heard rumors that such a still existed. But we’d never been able to find it despite repeated inspections; we suspected Flash Fix had a hoof in concealing it. “Give it here.”
“Aye, sir…” Reluctantly, Shooting Star passed it over, only to be shocked when I uncorked it, took a sniff… and then took a very long draw of it.
“Thank you,” I told him, returning it, feeling its bite and warmth immediately; though no connoisseur of such spirits, ‘twas surprisingly strong and I judged it of good quality. “I needed that.”
“Uh… our pleasure, sir.” The Lieutenant exchanged startled glances with the two ensigns.
“You’re welcome. But by my orders, you each get one additional drink of it but no more. You are all to be fully sober again by 0200,” I warned them, awaiting their nods. “After that, there is an increasing chance of enemy engagement even before we reach Epsilon, so your wits must be as sharp as your blades. General Quarters will sound then, so be ready.”
“Aye-aye, sir!” they chorused and all saluted me in new respect.
“Bully. And Lieutenant…?” I said after I returned the salutes.
“Yes sir?”
This time, he was surprised when I came to attention and saluted him! “Know that I admire your courage and determination. Know that I would much rather have a soldier who admits his fears but fights in spite of them than one who spouts mindless bravado and pretends to be something he is not. So my final orders to you are this: Fight hard and come back alive. Methinks we will need more ponies willing to fight, not less. And when this is over, methinks naval combat veterans such as you and your flight will be worth their weight in gems.”
“Aye-aye, sir…” he replied, and though surprised again, returned my gesture promptly along with his mares.
Though I did not show it at the time, this one encounter greatly affected me, both that night and going forward.
The pegasi of Shooting Star’s flight couldn’t have been more different, both in terms of how they arrived in the Navy and why they were still there; why they had not fled even facing a fight they they never dreamt would come.
A fight they sensed was likely to kill them.
But despite that, there they were, ready and willing to do their duty. Scared, but there, not for me or for Epsilon, not for the Navy or even for Equestria itself, but ultimately? For each other. For their friends and families. So they could stand tall and face themselves afterwards, or at least fall knowing that they tried to act as the soldiers they were supposed to be.
What would become of them, I did not know, any more than I know now what will become of me in the next few hours. Will the surgery succeed, or will it fail, leaving me only further crippled? Or worse, accidentally kill me? Am I making a terrible mistake and sacrificing all my remaining years for a futile dream of flight? I know not the answers, but I do know the risks. And now alone with dawn breaking and my fears trying to consume me, I find my thoughts casting back to those three ponies atop the observation deck whilst on our approach to Outpost Epsilon.
The healers are entering to prepare me now, so I must end this accounting here. I can only pray to Luna and the Moon Goddess herself that I can yet summon at least some small semblance of the same bravery they did that night, embracing their fate and the trials to come with devotion to duty and a desire to, if not survive, then at least prove their courage in the face of death.
—Admiral Tailwind
Your words are as powerful as they are poignant, father.
I wish now I had been able to read this before he entered, so that I and all present could assure him that nopony would ever question his courage. For all the battles he fought and the role he played in not just the war but the years that followed, he more than earned his command, succeeding in turning the Royal Navy into a service worthy of Luna once more. I likewise pray for him; death remains a distinct possibility for such experimental surgery in one of his advanced age, both in its course and after.
‘Tis a sentiment we all share—myself, Gavian, Fell Flight, Blindside and Swift Strike are all present as well as a score of the Epsilon veterans who survived not just that night, but the entirety of the war to come.
The gryphons, too, sent a representative; Tribune Bena Jale of the Kingdom’s Navy was present to offer her well-wishes and the use of the Kingdom’s healers, as their mages learned a few things about healing wounded wings and speeding recovery we did not over the course of the war. At least one Gryphon mage is participating in the procedure, and I am grateful for his presence.
As such, it strikes me now that the war was useful in other ways—the science of medicine advanced sharply because of it, and post-war collaboration between the two sides is what made this procedure possible.
‘Twill be my final word on this chapter, as my father will—we hope—be emerging from surgery soon. I pray for his survival and speedy recovery, as well as to one day fly alongside him as I have never been able to before.
—Firefly
Greetings again to all my little ponies. As Firefly and her comrades remain ensconced at Polaris Base to be there for Admiral Tailwind, I will pick up the quill in their absence.
Let me begin by thanking you for sharing, this, Captain. I, too, find the Admiral's recounting of a single pre-battle talk remarkable, especially considering the circumstances. ‘Tis an account of the desperate courage and devotion to duty that so many of my little ponies showed that day, even those that never expected they would be called upon to fight; one that still brings tears to my eyes to read. My thoughts and prayers go with your father as well, and I will honor him with a royal visit as soon as possible, offering up my own power to assist his recovery.
Unfortunately, as the first day of war concluded, I found myself in a trap of both fiendishly clever and very callous design, pinned in Canterlot and unable to do more than defend it. But defend it I would, and find a way to direct my forces from within it. Communications were difficult at that point, relying on exceptionally quick and courageous pegasi evading incineration, as ‘tis certain was a planned side effect of the dragon siege. But Admiral Tailwind’s predecessor found a way around that, and ‘twas to her immense credit that she did so.
Signed,
—Celestia Daybringer
Princess of the Sun
Diarch of Equestria
As night fell over my nation, I raised the moon in my sister’s place, imparting it a blood-red hue.
‘Twas my sister’s tradition, and one I felt best observed, both to honor her and to let all my little ponies know that Equestria was indeed at war. My aides were already drafting a formal war declaration to be ratified by the High Council and signed at dawn the next day, but until then, there was little I could do except try to reassure the citizens of my capital city that they were safe.
At least for the foreseeable future, that was. Despite my predicament, despite being cut off from sunlight and having to expend energy to sustain the magical shield that protected all of Canterlot from the wrath of the Kalator dragon clan, the cost was not yet high enough to immobilize me entirely, and ‘twouldn’t be for some months.
Thus, whilst I was afforded the time to do so, I took the liberty of traveling the city proper in full battle armor and reassuring the citizenry that, even whilst we were at war, Canterlot was under no threat so long as I was here.
‘Twas with some regret and perchance a measure of disgust that I noted that several of the ‘upper crust’ of Canterlot’s nobility seemed far too relieved at this news; the implication that other parts of Equestria were not under my protection and at the mercy of the dragons seemingly escaping them.
The merchants, guards, and other such ‘working-class’ ponies, on the other hoof, expressed far more concern; many of them had family and friends outside the capital, both in the military and out. Still, ‘twas naught I could do but offer platitudes and assurances that everything would work out in the end…
I said it even though I wasn’t sure I believed it, remembering Kalator’s taunts that I would be lying to them by doing so.
But I knew better than to let doubt or weakness show. I had spent the better part of the first day of the war tying to keep Canterlot calm, dispatching the Armored Guard and PSD into the streets to keep the peace. The latter I ordered into uniform—though some insisted on wearing full body suits and hoods to hide their identities so they could resume their undercover maid and servant roles later—as we needed a show of force and their numbers could help soothe nerves as well as quell any inclination to loot or riot.
I had already come down hard on a couple crowds that appeared ready to do so, slapping the ringleaders in irons and dressing down the ponies who were thinking about joining them personally.
The task done and the streets of Canterlot more or less secure—as far as we could tell, there were no more sleeper agents; the wave of assassinations that had marked the morning had ceased—I returned to the palace gardens for some well-earned peace and quiet.
Finally alone for the first time all day, I mulled over what to do in our current situation. Without my personal support, my forces on the Gryphon frontier were more than likely overrun at this point by the massive Imperial invasion, or close to it. I could see Outpost Gamma still standing, if perchance under heavy siege, but the rest…
My thoughts were interrupted by a splash from the central fountain, heralding the arrival of a sea-green pegasus emerging from it. To my surprise, Admiral Coral Torch, overall commander of the Royal Navy, shook herself free of excess water as she stepped out of the fountain entirely, not caring in the least that her uniform, which was hardly designed for underwater work, was wrinkled and wet. She looked, to put it lightly, annoyed.
“Methinks that foalhardy idiot is going to get herself killed and her ships destroyed, and for what? A chance to rescue her second-in-command’s daughter?!” she said derisively, not immediately noticing me.
I arched an eyebrow at this. “Perchance you could explain what has you out of sorts, Admiral?” I asked mildly, causing her to jump slightly; she apparently had been so preoccupied she hadn’t even noticed me. "Further, perchance you could explain why you decided to go for a swim in my palace fountain?”
“My Princess!” She gasped and struck a hasty bow, dripping some stray water onto the grass. “M-my apologies, I wasn’t aware you’d return quite so quickly!”
My other eyebrow joined its sister’s elevation. “Quickly? Admiral, methinks I have spent the last sixteen hours making sure a riot doesn’t break out in the city. And just what have you been doing that took up that much time?” I noticed then she wore a waterproof pair of saddlebags, one of which sagged more than the other. “Does it have to do with what’s in the bag?”
Coral Torch looked chagrined briefly. “It does, My Princess. Perchance you wouldst recall that some years back, I did a favor for Queen Novo?”
At the mention of the hippogryph queen, I nodded with a smile. “Yes… and that favor earned you not just her gratitude, but the Admiralty itself, given how much you did to cement relations between Equestria and the hippogryph nation,” I noted, hoping that ‘twould yet be possible to contact their Queen and enlist her aid in our struggle.
The hippogryphs were a maritime power more than an army one, but their skills and soldiers—to say nothing of their ability to shift forms from sea creature to air one at will—could be of great use to us.
“Well, she thanked me with a pair of hippogryph artifacts,” she continued, indicating her earrings. “The first allows me to breathe underwater, and move through it freely as though it were air.” She indicated her saddlebag.
“The second is a scrying mirror that functions underwater and is compatible with the more advanced communications crystals on some of our airships. Experimentation by the Office of Magical Research shows that its range is much greater than that of our normal communication methods, save for dragonfire messages.
“Using the mirror, I was able to establish contact with the Naval base at Stalliongrad, attempting to warn them of a possible gryphon raid. On that score, at least, I am relieved to report there was none."
I nodded in approval. “Truly? That’s very good news, Admiral—it not only means that out battle group at Stalliongrad survives, but that we now have a way around dragon interference and can fully reestablish our chain of command! So why, then, do you seem so out of sorts?”
She shook her head. “Well, what should I learn upon contacting them, but that the battle group was no longer there—that Captain Shady of the Loyalty had taken it upon herself to order Battle Group Four to the frontier!” she said in utter disbelief.
”’Twould seem she’s heading for Aerial Corps Outpost Epsilon to rescue the Corps battalion stationed there. I have reason to believe she’s doing this at the behest of her second-in-command, Tailwind, whose daughter is the commander of that base!” she concluded in disgust.
That gave me some pause as well. On the face of it, sending three airships to rescue one Corps battalion made no sense. And yet… “By daughter, you’re referring to Master Sergeant Firefly of the Royal Guard?” I asked.
“Exactly!” the admiral nodded. “Captain Shady’s actions are incomprehensible to me, My Princess—she had no orders and no superior present, but she didn’t care! She set out on her own for the Outpost! So once I learned of this, I immediately contacted the Loyalty, ordering Shady to change course to Naval Base Ursa, but she refused! Disobeyed a direct order, My Princess! She’s guilty of dereliction of duty, abandoning her post, and assumption of authority beyond her rank! If she somehow makes it back to Ursa in one piece, I intend to bust her flank back down to recruit, if not drum her out of the service entirely!” As she spoke, her face grew more and more red from her anger, but when she finished, she sucked in several breaths to calm down.
As she did so, I pondered this. Demotion was, in this instance, the least Coral Torch could do to Shady, given the charges against the captain; I knew well what my sister would have done to those in her service who disobeyed her direct orders. And yet… as I turned over the Admiral’s report in my head, I realized ‘twas not as cut and dry as she stated. I then found my thoughts turning back several centuries, to a day long before Luna’s fall. And for perchance the first time that day since I’d been rousted to be told of a gryphon invasion, I smiled.
“Tell me, Admiral,” I said as I stood up and started to walk around the gardens; she followed quickly, falling in beside me. “Do you know of the Sun Master?”
Coral Torch blinked at the seeming non sequitur, but answered nonetheless. “Of course, My Princess. He was the greatest military strategist in Equestria’s history. His book, The Art Of War, redefined Equestrian military doctrine. ’Tis required reading at the Equestrian Officer Academy!”
“'Tis indeed, and quite rightly. But there is much about him that is not known. So let me tell you a story of him, Admiral,” I said. “Shortly after his book was published, he and I had occasion to travel to Saddle Arabia on a diplomatic visit. The local sultan who was hosting us happened to have read the Sun Master’s work. He said he found it of questionable merit, and thus asked the Sun Master if he would be willing to demonstrate his tactics… using mares from his own harem, who had never touched weapons in their lives.
“‘Methinks if your methods are truly as good as you claim, then you should be able to make even these mares, who even I have enough trouble keeping in line, do what you wish,’ was what he said, if in the Saddle Arabian tongue.
“To his surprise, the Sun Master agreed to the challenge, on the condition that he be allowed to resort to minor military discipline were he not obeyed. So the mares were assembled in the palace courtyard and given weapons. The two mares the sultan favored the most were made officers. The Sun Master explained the instructions he was going to give them; they were basic military parade directions. When he was done explaining, he asked them if they understood the directions they’d been given, and they replied in the affirmative. Then he gave an order… and they laughed at him.”
Coral Torch snorted. “Foals. Even if they were harem mares, they should have respected his rank and authority.”
I nodded. “So I thought as well. But the Sun Master merely said this: ‘If words of command are not clear, if orders are indistinct, the general is at fault.’ “
I paused before I went on to let the words sink in. “So he then explained the directions again. Again he asked if they understood, and again they said yes. He gave the order again, but again they laughed. And this time, he said this:
‘If orders are clear and distinct, but the soldiers disobey nonetheless, the officers are at fault.’ And as, by his own methods, he found the appointed officers at fault, he ordered both of them, the sultan’s favorite mares, flogged and thrown into the dungeon.”
The admiral blinked. “That… seems rather disproportionate, for a mere demonstration, My Princess,” she said carefully. “I thought you said he was allowed ‘minor military discipline’ only.”
“’Twas a different time and place, Admiral. And believe me when I say it was minor, considering what other punishments existed in that day.” I closed my eyes at the memories of some of the things I’d witnessed back then; things I hadn’t even blinked at that would appall me now. “Nevertheless, the Sultan thought so as well.
“He immediately told the Sun Master that no further demonstration was required, and that he did not wish to see his favorite mares punished in such a way. In response, the Sun Master gave his third maxim of the day:
“‘Having been placed in the capacity of commander by the sovereign, there are some orders which, in said capacity, I cannot accept should they contravene my sworn duty,’ he said. The two mares were then flogged for their disobedience in front of the others, and then thrown into the dungeon for a day as per his orders.
“Once their punishment was complete, two other mares were then appointed from the rest of the harem in their places. And this time, when the Sun Master gave his orders for the drills, the remaining mares obeyed without hesitation and even executed his instructions quite well. Thus, he won the challenge, and with it, great respect.”
Coral Torch was not appointed Admiral of the Navy for being slow on the uptake; I could see that she understood what I was implying. “Your point is well-made, My Princess. You are saying that having exercised her own lawful authority that her sovereign—meaning myself—had granted, Captain Shady could not accept my countermand, as it would go against what she perceived as her sworn duty,” the Admiral said heavily, perchance recalling the Captain’s words to her in a new light.
“But with respect, My Princess, I would point out that there is a significant difference between a military parade put on for a foreign power, and taking three airships into the front lines against orders!”
I shook my head. “To the Sun Master, there would have been little difference, Admiral. Captain Shady clearly felt that she was making the best decision she could in the absence of orders or a superior who could give them, and then refused orders that countermanded her decision when she was nearing her goal. She has made a very bold move, and regardless of her reasons—based on what I know of her, methinks it highly unlikely she did it for the sake of his second’s daughter alone—she deserves respect for them.
“Were the Sun Master here now, he would say that ‘twould do more damage to morale to recall her than to let her continue. That win or lose, the effort alone could pay great dividends in fighting spirit for not just the Navy but all of Equestria. And as I think about it now, I cannot but agree. In truth, should she succeed or fail in rescuing Epsilon’s garrison, ‘tis my intention to reward and honor Captain Shady for the effort just as my sister would once have done.” I said with a glance up at the sky, where I knew my sister’s hidden face stared down from above the level of the smoky pall the dragons had laid over us. “You may be assured that Luna herself would have agreed and approved of her decision.”
“Luna herself?” the Admiral looked both surprised and intrigued at her mention. “Truly?”
“Truly,” I confirmed, finding myself missing her more than ever, knowing that were she present now, the war would be over quickly. With two alicorns present, I could defend Canterlot whilst Luna could wipe out the gryphons, and then we could turn our combined power plus that of the entire Equestrian military on the dragons. “Luna appreciated officers with initiative, Admiral. She valued two things above all else—long-term loyalty to her crown and her service, and great daring amongst her commanders and warriors.
“‘Tis certain she would not brook having her orders broken, but in the absence of them—which Shady was—nor would she punish an aggressive officer who sought to take the battle to the enemy, gaining glory for the Navy—and her—in the process,” I concluded, then stopped and turned towards Coral Torch, waiting until she had met my gaze. “I ask that you keep that in mind if and when Captain Shady returns.”
The Admiral sighed, knowing she had lost this debate. “As you say, My Princess. Still, I can’t simply let her go without punishment. She must at least face an inquiry and be severely censured for disobeying a direct order, effective upon her return from Epsilon.”
"That is acceptable," I agreed, knowing that if Shady wasn't punished at all, ‘twould set a bad precedent for the remainder of the conflict. “But let the inquiry be a fair one, Admiral, and should she succeed in her task, decorate her and the ships of the battle group,” I told her.
“For the Navy and the nation needs new heroes, and perchance her actions this night will create them.”
As I complete this section, I am told by Captain Firefly that Admiral Tailwind has come out of twelve straight hours of surgery, taxing him and his healers alike. He is unconscious and will not awake before morning; ‘tis too soon to know if it worked or there will be any… ill aftereffects of an extended period of sedation and a highly experimental operation. But my heart goes out to him, and I will shortly depart to see him, once the healers say he may receive visitors.
If I ask anything of all my little ponies, ‘tis simply this: consider what courage truly is, and what it takes to act in the face of one’s fears, particularly knowing that to act may well mean one’s death.
And consider that those who found their courage rarely did so for princess and province so much as a desire to stand by their friends and live up to the expectations of their loved ones.
—Princess Celestia
“Thus we may know that there are five essentials for victory:
1. He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.
2. He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces.
3. He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks.
4. He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.
5. He will win who has military capacity and is not interfered with by the sovereign.”
—Sun Tzu
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May want to out a space between those two there
.
If you're gonna live like warrior, then you may as well die like one
.
BY THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP
!!!
Very, very powerful words
.
I wasn't expecting Tailwind to confiscate the flask only to take a swig of it and give it back. That instantly made me like him more, even after his nice conversation. I really liked the scene from his perspective, as well as Celestia's. The latter is a perspective not often given, I've noticed, especially not in first person.
Two chapters in such a short span! I'm feeling spoiled! That said, all this build up has me quite anxious to see the events of what is likely to be an intense battle! The prose and grandour of this story always has me coming back but now I dread the wait for the chapters to come!
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Oops. Fixed.
That’s what he’s trying to tell himself...
THEY HAVE THE POWER!!!!
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Thanks! Then it sounds like I hit the mark on the Tailwind’s section.
Now that I think about it, you’re right.
First person Celestia is rarely seen.
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Appreciated! Really wish I could get more readers for it, but most people don’t want to give a long fic like this a chance unless it’s coming from a well-known author or has an FoE tag on it or something.
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You’re welcome! Well, after all the time I’ve spent building up the coming battle, I better deliver!
Don’t worry, suitably epic scenes are planned for the climactic Battle of Epsilon. You’re seeing what’s happening from (very) far away in the first section, with that lightning over the horizon. If they can see it from that distance, imagine what it’s like up close! Then again, by next chapter, you won’t have to!
and I as much as I hated to admit it,
Remove the first 'I'
The second is a scrying mirror that functions underwater and can is compatible with the more advanced
Remove 'can'
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Both sentences fixed, with apologies.
I liked the discussion with the soldiers of the airship and the mention of the hippogryphs since that makes clear that Equestria has allies as well. I had heard the story about Sun Tzu training the women of a harem before and it is memorable.
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That section was actually mostly written by Leo Archon. Can’t say I’d heard that such a story actually existed until you mentioned it just now! More credit to him for it, then. Though it turns out in the real story, the two women were outright beheaded as an object lesson to the rest.
Not doing that here, though...
Blood Tarterus...
Can't wait for the Griffon vs Cloven to continue if this story is so mindblowing
At least the understaffed Ships have more Crew capacity to house Epsilon survivers.
I hope the deservers got exexuted for the shit they pulled?
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That’s one word for it! Or actually two...
Now you know what I can do in terms of battle scenes! And it’s definitely being put to use over in Feathered Hearts.
I guess if there’s a silver lining, it is that.
Stay tuned.
It is interesting to think about how while Celestia has to watch her subjects die time and again through her timeless raine, she never has to worry about her own demise. Very few things in the world can do her harm, and she can't die of natural causes.
So I wonder if she would have known fear before having to go up against the likes of Discord, or her own sister. Until that point she'd never had to even consider that she could die one day. Fear for others sure, but she wouldn't have felt fear for her own life until such powerful forces attacked Equestria.
I do think if nothing had shown her that she to isn't invisible, her power would have eventually gone to her head. But knowing there are creatures and relics out there that rival or surpass her power would have humbled her, and possibly pushed her to think more tactically as well