Wings of Iron: The Sphigyptian Affair

by TheGMan

Chapter 6: Colleagues

“Let’s all be honest with ourselves, alright? No sane creature gives a shit about Akhri, and no sane creature gives a shit about Sphigypt either. The only reason why we even though about being here, is because those confederate fuckers are here too!”

-Attributed to Lieutenant Tullius Castor, 3^rd Company, 2^nd Battalion, 111^th Land Regiment

Kaska,

Owlstrian barracks,

The next day …

Captain Edvard Blackwing pushed open the infirmary’s wooden door, letting him and Lieutenant Whitepeak inside before closing it behind them. The two griffons were greeted by an atypical humming and rattling of engines, muffled as it came from somewhere beneath the floor.

It wasn’t pleasant, but that machinery kept the lights on in that part of the barracks. Most of the time, at least. The crystal-powered battery had the nasty habit of breaking down, and fixing it could take days without a specialist. So far, 3^rd Company had managed to keep it going with hasty repairs.

It didn’t help that the only room spacious enough to house their triage station was right on top of the basement, were the generator was located. Then again, the building in question was probably a century old. It had not been built with electricity in mind.

“May I ask why we’re in the infirmary, sir?” Whitepeak said by his side, glancing curiously at her surroundings.

Blackwing nodded. “We’re here, lieutenant, because we need to sort out our small problem with discretion. The last thing I need is Major Longbow breathing down my neck.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call missing supplies a small problem, sir. Also, that still doesn’t answer why I had to come here too.”

“Oh, that’s easy actually.” He held up two clawed digits. “Firstly, you discovered the loss in the first place, so it’s only natural for you to be here. And secondly, I think you should get out from that office once in a while.” That only earned a sceptical look from her, but if she had any complain she voiced none of them.

Blackwing omitted to say that she was also here because he needed a reminder of what the situation actually was, but that was really beside the point now.

In his defence, most of Blackwing’s time in the last two days had been devoted organizing 2^nd Battalion arrival. There was a lot to do, such as cleaning up the empty barracks and fetching new bunks, as well as readying a new administrative wing for the Battalion HQ.

Most of that work had been delegated to a couple of local enterprises though. True, that might had not have been the safest arrangement, but given the available resources there wasn’t much else he could have done. Besides, Buzzard was keeping an eye on them.

Seated by an open window overlooking the inner courtyard, Sergeant Last Aid turned her head only slightly towards them, acknowledging their arrival with a small nod.

She was a unicorn mare with a short, curly green mane and white fur. She wore a medical apron that had once been of an immaculate white, but was now coated by dark-crimson stains of dried blood.

Her horn was glowing, casting her telekinesis on a hovering, and still smoking, wooden pipe.

“I’m quite sure there are regulations about smoking in an infirmary, sergeant,” Blackwing noted.

Last Aid glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. She levitated the pipe to her muzzle and proceeded to take a slow and deep puff out of it.

“Are there?” she growled, her teeth biting down on the stem. “Well, they’re a bunch of horse crap. I’ve yet to see a doctor worth his salt that does not smoke.”

“You could do it outside,” the griffon pointed out.

Last Aid shrugged. “I could, but I won’t.” She exhaled deeply. “In case you haven’t noticed, sir, the sun here is actively trying to kill us.”

Blackwing kept himself from rolling his eyes. “Yes, I noticed that. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll ask it to pick up the numbered ticked and get in line, just like any other civilized creature.”

The mare grunted something resembling an approval before turning to look outside. In the morning, that side of the building was mostly in the shadows, and windows were kept open. More smoke rose from the pipe’s bowl, grey puffs drifting lazily up in the air and out of the window.

Then, glancing back, Last Aid seemed to finally notice the griffoness’s presence.

“Oh, my apologies, ma’am. I didn’t see you.” She smiled and performed a small salute. “Sergeant Last Aid. I’m the medical officer, the only one present, anyway. I presume you’ve accompanied Major Longbow here, yes?”

Whitepeak said nothing, staring dumbstruck at the mare for a few seconds, her eyebrows raised. “Sergeant, I-” she paused, blinking. “I know who you are. I mean, I’ve been here for the past four months.”

“You did?” Last Aid tilted her head to one side. “Strange. ‘Cause I honestly don’t remember you, ma’am. Then again, I don’t get all that free time to go around.” She grimaced. “I look away for a second and one of those idiots -pardon me- stab himself in the hoof.”

“Second Lieutenant Whitepeak is our logistical officer,” Blackwing reminded her. “And, in the absence of Nikolas, she’s our acting Quartermaster.”

“Does it mean that all my complaints went through her? That would at least explain why she has heard of me,” she said, chuckling.

Blackwing noticed the grifoness shooting him a perplexed look, to which he simply shrugged.

“I assume,” Last Aid said as she kept on smoking, “that you have a reason to be in my infirmary, captain. Besides complaining about my pipe, I mean.”

Blackwing nodded. “We’re here to see Falcon. He’s still here, isn’t he?”

Last Aid grimaced. “He’s only one here, as a matter of fact. The Regimental Medical Team came yesterday to pick all the other injured and carry them to a proper hospital in Edso.”

She shook her head, clearly amused. “Your lieutenant pulled rank on the medics to remain here, despite my insistence. He’s lucky I had enough antiseptic and nothing major on my hooves, or I would have personally kicked him out of here.”

“And what about his conditions?”

“He’s alright, I think. Unless he does something idiotic, the sewing should hold. The rest is in the report I’ve already sent you. However, you can ask that directly to him, if you want.” Then, turning her head towards the back of the room, she cried out with her shrill voice. “Wake up, lieutenant! You’ve got visitors!”

As a matter of fact, Darius Falcon was already fully awake. The griffon was seated on his bed, propped up against the cushion and standing somewhat erect. He had been busy writing down something, judging by the neat bundle of papers sitting by his bedside. He put away the pen with a tired sigh as Last Aid’s unmistakable voice reverberated throughout the room.

“Yeah, thank you. I was listening already,” Falcon groused as he looked up and glared the mare. His uniform was hanging from a hanger nearby, and most of his brown-furred belly laid exposed, covered only by thick, white canvas.

“Be honest with me sergeant. You enjoy screaming like that at your patients, don’t you?”

Last Aid sighed. “No. But a thank you for patching you up could make my day.” She turned to the captain, grinning. “He’s all yours. Try not to chew him up too much, because I’m not putting him back together a second time.”

Blackwing ignored the last remark and strode toward Falcon, Whitepeak trailing behind. They sat on empty bed beside the lieutenant’s own coat. He shot Last Aid a glance, but the mare had already gone back on smoking at the window.

The infirmary was a long, rectangular-shaped chamber with a low ceiling. Aside from a couple of desks, most of it was occupied by lockers and cupboards crammed with medical equipment, be it simple sterile bandages or brown bottles of antibiotics. A series of beds lined both walls on the left and right, some even furnished with white separating curtains.

“So, lieutenant,” he said, turning his attention back at the griffon. “Are you enjoying your stay here?”

Falcon shrugged. “Not really. At least me and Purslane chatted once in a while. Now that she got patched up and back out, I don’t have much in the way of company.”

He gestured downwards with a claw as he hissed, “And I swear to Talos, all that rattling is driving me half-crazy.”

Blackwing smiled. “Oh, I’m sure it’s not so bad. It seems you’ve already found a way to kill time.” Out of curiosity, he took a peek at the papers Falcon had been writing on. He frowned.

“Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir?” the griffon answered promptly.

“Did you have Sergeant Buzzard bring you the paperwork here?”

“Of course I did. Just because I’m not allowed to get up-” He put a lot of emphasis on that. “It doesn’t mean that I can’t do something useful. I’m not leaving Buzzard alone to deal with all this stuff.”

“I sent you here to rest though.”

“So what? I am resting.” He smirked. “Besides, it’s not like I have Nebula doing the paperwork for me. If you could be so kind to send her here for a quile though-”

“Hilarious, lieutenant,” Blackwing said, frowning. “You should have become a comedian, instead of signing up.”

“Oh, but I’m already doing that, am I not?”

“True. But you don’t get paid for it,” he quipped.

Their verbal sparring was interrupted by a polite cough coming from Whitepeak. “I don’t mean to be rude, captain, but wasn’t there something you wanted to discuss with the lieutenant here?”

Blackwing blinked, then nodded. “Right. That.” He waved a claw at the grifoness. “I’m confident you already know Second Lieutenant Koralia Whitepeak, right?”

Falcon nodded and gave her a polite smile. “We did not have a chance to meet before, but I’ve heard something about you. You’re the one dealing with supplies, right?”

“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that,” she said, smiling in return, “but I’m happy to see that at least somegriff remembers me.”

“I wouldn’t disturb you if this wasn’t important, Darius, so I’ll get straight to the point.” Blackwing paused, clicking his beak. “Lieutenant Whitepeak has recently discovered that our supplies are getting stolen.”

Falcon’s eyes widened, before glancing at both griffon in turn. “How? When? Actually, forget that. Just tell me who is the idiot doing it.”

Blackwing shock his head. “I don’t know who, but the lieutenant has an answer to the other two.” Then, glancing to her, he added, “Lieutenant, if you don’t mind, try to be brief.”

“Brief?” Whitepeak blinked. “Very well, I’ll try.”

She took a deep breath. “To put it in the simplest terms possible, Mister Falcon, each month I send Quartermaster Nikolas in Edso a document. On said document there are the supplies needed for the next month, be it food, ammunition, spare parts, and so on. From there, Lieutenant Nikolas sends it to the 111^th Regimental HQ and, if we’re lucky, the requested supplies get delivered here by train in about a week. You’re following me so far, right?” Falcon nodded in reply.

“However, with the supplies, Nikolas sends me also the form I sent him in the first place, so I’m able to check if something is amiss from the order.”

She paused, her eyes going momentarily downcast. “Well, I … I might have been a little sloppy about it.”

“How much is a little, exactly?”

“I …” She sighed. “I checked the order using a copy of the form I sent him, instead of waiting for the one from Nikolas. It is only when I compared by chance the two forms from last month that I noticed they were different.”

“The order I received from Nikolas was much bigger than the one I sent him. I never noticed it before as nothing I asked for was missing.”

“Hold on a moment.” Falcon tilted his head slightly in confusion. “You’re saying that we’re getting more stuff than we should?”

“No, lieutenant. What I’m saying is that more supplies arrive here, but we simply don’t receive them.”

Falcon frowned, shooting a glace to Blackwing. The captain remained stone-faced, limiting his reaction to a mere nod of acknowledgement.

“I’m guessing this is not a mistake we can just attribute to some clerk,” he said.

“That was my first thought, so I asked her to double check,” Blackwing explained. “But apparently this has been going on for a lot of time. Probably even before we got assigned here.”

There was a moment of silence after that as Blackwing let the information sink in. To his credit, Falcon got the implication of what he had just said fairly quickly.

“Shit,” he breathed.

“My exact thought.”

“This is serious.” Falcon was speaking softly now. “Bloody Tartarus! It means that some creature has tapped into our communication lines and is intercepting our dispatches. That’s a big security threat if I ever saw one!”

Blacking nodded. “Indeed. As I said, I wouldn’t have disturbed you if this wasn’t important.”

“You weren’t joking. What do you need me to do?”

He did not answer immediately, turning instead toward the nearby grifoness. “When the next supply delivery is scheduled for, lieutenant?”

She scratched her lower beak, thinking. “I’ll say in about two weeks. I had to readjust it, as Second Battalion will be here sooner than that. Besides, the next ones are going to be bigger than normal for the time being.”

“Good.” Then, returning his attention to Falcon, he said “And you are feeling better, aren’t you?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying for the last days, yes.”

Blacking nodded. “Congratulation then, Lieutenant Falcon. You’re officially reassigned to active duty.” He grinned at him. “Just try not to tire yourself too much, all right? I would hate to have to send you back in here.”

Darius Falcon looked him dead in the eyes and nodded solemnly. His seriousness lasted barely a second though, as he craned his neck up and turning in Last Aid’s general direction to shout.

“Did you hear that, doc?” he cried out. “I’m getting out of here! Aren’t you happy?”

Sergeant Last Aid looked away from the window just enough to shot him a glare, before reminding herself that it wasn’t her job to deal with any of that. She went back to smoke. Talos willing, the rest of 2^nd Battalion medical team would join her there soon enough.

---

“Forgive me for saying so, sir, but isn’t what we’re doing a bit illegal?” Whitepeak asked him once they were out of the infirmary and back in the open. Despite Last Aid’s complains about the weather, it was still relatively early in the day, and the morning heat had yet to come out at full force.

Blackwing shot her a sidelong glance. “How so, lieutenant?”

“Well,” she said hesitantly. “We’ve yet to inform Major Longbow about this, which we immediately should have, according to regulations. Also, isn’t this the Gendarmerie’s kind of business? Shouldn’t we notify them?”

Blackwing shook his head. He reached with a claw inside one of his uniform’s pocket and retrieved a small paper package and a lighter.

“I hate to do so, but I’ll give Castor credit where it’s due.” He lighted himself a cigarette.

“Dragging the Gendarmerie into this, especially after the mess at the South Gate, will only bring us more problems. Besides, that kind of investigation can draw out for a long time.”

“And what about the Major?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know about you, lieutenant, but I’m rather attached to my position. And two debacles in couple of weeks might very well be the chance Longbow was looking for to get rid of me. So, let’s just try to keep this between ourselves, alright?”

The grifoness nodded, but almost absentmindedly, and she averted her gaze from him. A tense silence followed, broken only the sound of Blackwing’s soft breath as he puffed on his cigarette.

“I’m in trouble, right?” Whitepeak asked.

The sudden question blindsided him, and it took Blackwing several moments just to come up with a reply.

“You’re what?”

“In trouble. I must be. I mean, I-” she hesitated. After taking a deep breath, she continued. “The supply chain is my responsibility. I’m the acting quartermaster in Nikolas absence. And I screwed it up.”

“For Talos’s sake, it was right in from of my beak this entire time!” Whitepeak sighed angrily, mostly to herself. “And I missed it!”

Her gaze shifted back on him. “My actions have potentially put us all at risk, sir. If you ask for my resignation, I won’t hold it against you,” she said, a bit more firmly than necessary.

Blackwing stared blankly at the grifoness for small eternity, his mind’s gears turning. As tempting as that idea was though, he quickly dismissed it. He was not going to just sack for a mistake. Talos only knew how many he had accumulated during his career.

True, the idea of getting rid of Lieutenant Whitepeak would have make him a lot happier, and had there been a safe way of doing it, he would have seized it as soon as possible.

As things were now though, Whitepeak’s resignation would gain him nothing but a short-lived pleasure, and eventually Longbow would call on him to explain her sudden departure.

Besides, for all he knew -and with his kind of luck- her replacement could be infinitely worse. He would rather stick with her for now.

He mentally sighed. Talos really had to choose that moment to answer his prayers, didn’t He?

Before he could voice any answer to her though, the infirmary door behind them opened and Lieutenant Falcon emerged, adjusting his jacket and uniform as he went. His limp was still slightly visible, but it didn’t seem to bother him all that much.

“You know, I think that I’d better not get in there for a while,” he said, waving towards something behind him.

Blackwing raised an eyebrow. “Is Last Aid really that pissed?”

“Hard to tell, but I’d rather not find myself laying again on a stretcher. Especially if she’s the one holding the knife.”

Blackwing allowed himself a thin smile before returning his attention onto the grifoness. “We’ll resume our discussion later, lieutenant, but I need to speak with him for a moment. You may go.”

Whitepeak shot both of them a curious look, but nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Very well.” Then, he added, “Oh, and before you go, lieutenant, can you do me a favour? Do you know mister Mosk, right?”

“You mean that sphinx who set his cab service just out of our barracks?” She briefly chuckled in amusement. The idea that some business could try to milk money from a nearby military installation probably sounded as utter nonsense to her.

He nodded. “That one. Would you mind asking him to send a carriage at the west gate to pick me up? Let’s say, thirty minutes from now.”

“Of course. May I ask why though?”

“I’ve got business in Kaska,” he answered simply. “Nothing of your concern.”

Whitepeak nodded. “Very well, sir.” She reached up to adjust her glasses. “Although, I can’t help but point out that flying there would take less time,” she said with a small smile. “It would be cheaper for sure.”

Blackwing froze as soon as he registered that. Without a word, his eyes narrowed to slits and he glared at her.

The sudden shift in humour didn’t escape Whitepeak’s notice, especially once she saw his tail swaying behind him. Her smile turned nervous, then disappeared outright. She quickly begun to fumble excuses.

“I mean … i-if you want to, sir. I’m not saying that you have to fly there. It was … It was a suggestion, really! Like, you know, like morning exercise, r-right?” Her eyes darted left and right, unaware that her grave was getting deeper and deeper.

Falcon was perfectly aware of it though, and he took a few uneasy steps back so to escape the incoming outburst.

Blackwing took one deep breath. Then took a second one. Then he decided there was no way he wasn’t going to snap at her, right there, right now, if he didn’t take at least a third one. A very deep one.

He was towering over her by now. The griffon was not by any means bigger, nor taller, than average, but his unwavering, unforgiving gaze boring into her had caused Whitepeak to shrink on the spot, as if she was trying to sink herself beneath the ground.

A moment before snapping though, he glanced towards Falcon, a suspect suddenly popping up in his mind.

“Whitepeak, just-” he paused, biting his tongue. “Just get out of my sight, alright?”

Whitepeak nodded, trying and failing to suppress the relief washing over her face. The grifoness didn’t run away with the proverbial tail between her legs, but her gait was for sure a lot more hurried than usual. She even forgot to salute.

The two griffons watched her disappear behind the building’s corner in silence, waiting a few more seconds to make sure she was out of earshot. Only then Blackwing spoke.

“Okay, seriously. Did any of you actually thought of telling her about that?” he growled.

Falcon blinked. “Hey, hold on a minute! How is any of this our fault? You were the one glaring at her!” he spluttered defensively. “I mean, we barely see her! I thought she would pick that knowledge by herself. You know, listening around.”

“Listening around? You’re kidding me, right?” Blackwing hissed. “How is Whitepeak supposed to know that I’m stuck on the ground if no creature even thinks about telling her?”

The griffon shrugged in reply. “I thought you didn’t like her.”

“That’s beside the point, and you know it.” Blackwing sighed. “I’m really starting to think that this company needs a lot more team-building exercise, the COs especially. First it was only Last Aid that did not remember Whitepeak existed; I could turn a blind eye to that. But now I discover that one of my platoon’s leaders is doing that too, and I can’t just let it pass.”

“You can try. Hell, it might actually work,” Falcon said with a shrugg. He went to adjust his officer cap. “Or, if it doesn’t, at least it’ll give us something to do, now that we’re stuck here for the time being.”

He frowned. “By the way, you said you wanted to discuss something with me?”

“I did, lieutenant.” Blackwing tossed his cigarette away, and the ghost of a smile made its appearance on his beak.

“Nothing major though, so don’t worry. I just wanted to ask you how you’re feeling.”

The griffon frowned. “That’s it? Well, you could have asked the sergeant back in the infirmary about it. Still, I think I’m fine.” His claw went to touch the bandages hidden beneath his uniform, tracing their pattern along his side.

“Last Aid said the knife missed my vitals, and that I fainted only due to blood loss and the adrenaline wearing out. Or at least, I think that’s what she said. I’m no medic, but that was probably the gist of it.” His beak shifted into a cocky smile.

“It was a scratch, really. The healing magic took care of that in no time. Some painkillers, a week-long rest, and that was it. Honestly, I should have been out of there sooner.”

“Good. I wasn’t talking about that though.” He took a step closer to him. “I wanted to know how you are feeling.” He tapped at the side of his head.

“I thought I’d already answered that,” he said with a frown. It only deepened once he understood the meaning behind his gesture. “Why, you think is something wrong with me? That I’m not fit for duty anymore? Is this-”

He paused. His tone had gotten a lot more heated without him realizing that. He took a moment to calm down. “Is this about the fucking South Gate again, captain?”

“I don’t remember ever mentioning that, lieutenant. Unless, of course, you think that something at there might have impacted you,” Blackwing said, his voice even. “Look Darius, I’m not here to put your capability in doubt. I’m just making sure that you’re alright.”

“Of course I am!” he spat. “Why shouldn’t I be? I’ve been in combat before. It wasn’t pretty, but I’m not a frightened pup who just came out of the Academy.” His eyes narrowed. “I can handle it, sir.”

“Good,” Blackwing said, his tone hardening. “You know, I could almost believe it if Last Aid had not sent me a note regarding you yesterday.”

Falcon frowned but said nothing. “She said that you had been experiencing nightmares on almost daily basis since the incident,” he continued. “And that you showed visible stress and insomnia. Care to comment about that?”

“If you already knew that, why asking then?”

Blacwking narrowed his eyes at him. “Because I wanted to see how relevant that was to you. Now answer the question.”

The griffon looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. “As I said, I’m fine” he told him quietly. “Yes, it has been a stressful week, I’m not denying it. A third of my platoon went to the hospital, five of them still are there, and one of my NCOs got shot in the head the process.”

He glanced up at him. “If that wasn’t enough, all of us are that much away from exploding. Buzzard just notified me that in the last couple of days there have been two incidents, if you we want to call them that way, in the mess hall.”

“But I’ll repeat you the same thing I said to Last Aid. I can handle it. I appreciate that you’re worrying about me, captain, but there’s really no need to.”

Blackwing remained silent. To say that he was unconvinced would have been a massive understatement. That didn’t mean Falcon was lying to him; he was sure there was something true in what he’d just said. However, he couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was hiding something else.

It had something to do with the South Gate, at least of that he was sure. The problem though was figuring out what it was, and he had little in the way of clues. He frowned. Scratch that, of clues he had even too many for his tastes.

The toll there had been heavy, even without considering the civilians involved. Of course, the local authorities had tried to minimize the number of pony deaths. They were slaves after all, and legally speaking that fell under the category of damaged property. Once that particular came out, Owlstrian newspapers would have a field day.

Forcing or even pressing Falcon to tell him would probably gain him nothing, aside from alienating the griffon to him. And Blackwing liked Darius. He somewhat reminded him of a younger self; he too had been quite hard-headed as a lieutenant.

He sighed inwardly for the second time in a few minutes. Another problem postponed for later. He could only hope that whatever that was it would not come back to haunt him.

“Alright, Falcon,” he said in a neutral tone. “I’m trusting you on this. But if you have anything bothering you, come and speak with me, ok? That or go to Last Aid. I mean, she’s the only one with a medical degree here so with might as well use it. Just promise me you’ll speak to some creature.”

Lieutenant Falcon nodded. “Yes, sir. And thank you,” he added with a small, relieved smile.

---

Marediterranean Sea,

OSL Bucephalus …

The morning sun did not bring the hoped relief. On the contrary, it only contributed to further exacerbate the Bucephalus’s crew frustration.

The ten survivors picked up from the lifeboat during the night had little time to tell their tale before collapsing to exhaustion. Aside from that, they all had to be rushed to the infirmary, as each of them sported a various and gruesome collection of injuries.

For two earth ponies the internal traumas proved to be too extensive, and the only comfort the Bucephalus’s medical staff could give them was a lethal-high dose of morphine and a bed. As callous as that was, it was either that or let their collapsed lungs choke them.

There was some good news though, if it could be called that way. The naval squad from Port Kossen had finally showed up -six destroyers and a hospital ship- and thus freed the Bucephalus to resume her course. How much luck they would have in finding what remained of the ship, or even survivors, was debatable.

Furthermore, the weather had deteriorated significantly since dawn. Powerful waves rose and crashed against the heavy cruiser’s armoured flanks, causing it to visibly tilt from to side to side as she went on his course.

“A mess,” Lieutenant Ted Scytheclaw groaned. “This is a complete and utter mess!”

Leaning back in his chair, Alder Blackwing raised an eyebrow at his exec.

“I was already aware of this, Mr Scytheclaw. Would you mind being a little more specific?” From behind him came a soft rattle of rain on glass as water droplets ticked against the porthole.

Captain Alder Blackwing’s personal quarters were larger of those belonging to the rest of the crew. The fact that most of said environment was empty, with just a few nautical maps hanging from the walls and a pair of books laying on the night table, made it all too evident to the eye.

The last days had been quite hectic, so to speak, and Alder had barely the time to empty his suitcase before being thrust into the ship’s routine activities. Still, he occasionally used it to receive reports from his subordinate when his presence was not requested on the bridge.

The exec grimaced. The griffon sported a navy-blue plumage, with the exception of his white wingtips, and a dark-coloured coat of fur.

“With all due respect, sir, I’m not sure I even need to be specific in this situation. But if you wish, I can start doing a list.”

He griffon shifted in his seat. “For all we know, the Calypso is now sitting on the sea’s bottom, may Talos be merciful on those poor bastards. And I’m ready to bet that the sphinxes are behind this.”

“If they are, which I’m sure they are, it also means that Thebanus managed to sneak one of their ships out of port, eluded our surveillance, pounced on the first cargo they found, and slipped back in without any of us the wiser.”

“Once the Admiralty finds about that, some heads will roll for sure, mark my words.”

“You seem quite convinced that sphinxes are responsible, Mister Scytheclaw,” Alder noted.

The exec shrugged. “It makes sense, sir. Those bastards are begging to have a fight with Akhri, and what better way of having an excuse than provoking us into openly attack them. I mean, you heard what happened at Kaska, right? What else could it be?”

“I’m aware of what happened in Kaska,” Alder spoke in a quiet tone. “My brother was there.”

“Oh.” The griffon blinked in surprise. “I, uh … I was not aware of that, skipper. Is he-”

Alder waved a claw at him. “Yes, he’s alright. I’ve yet to meet anything that can kill Edward. Continue, if you please.”

“Thank you, sir. Then, there also the matter of the crew.” He sighed. “Or rather, of the rumours that are going around as of late.”

“What kind of rumours are we talking about?” Alder asked, his eyebrows arching up in curiosity.

“Well, you see, skipper, it’s more of a superstition, really.” He sounded somewhat embarrassed. “It’s just that this is your first command, right? And the first noteworthy thing to happen is finding just ten survivors of a ship that mysteriously sunk only yesterday in the Marediterranean.”

“It’s not like there is any correlation, of course,” Scytheclaw was quick to add. “But as we both know sailors tend to be superstitious no matter what, and with all the problems we had as of late, plus the possibility that there might be an enemy airship hiding out there, well …” He trailed off. It was as if he really didn’t want to say it aloud.

Leaning forward in his chair, Alder frowned deeply. “Mister Scytheclaw, are you trying to tell me that the crew thinks I’m bringing bad luck aboard?”

“Well, ah, sort of, skipper.” He visibly winced. “Mind you, it’s not all the crew, but I’ve overheard a creature or two talking about it. They obviously don’t speak of it aloud, so as long as it remains confined in the crew quarters and the mess hall there’s little me and the officers can do.”

Alder nodded but remained otherwise silent. He knew he should have expected for it to happen eventually, but that did not make it less frustrating.

A ship’s crew was like a family, a big and rambunctious one, sure, but a family nonetheless. And all things considered, Alder was still a stranger to most of them, a griffon sent to take the place of their late captain. They would follow his orders because he was an officer, not because he was their captain.

They weren’t rude to him, but the daily meetings with the rest of the officers on board were stiff and cold affairs. Apart from Ted Scytheclaw, most of them preferred to keep an air of detached formality when speaking with him, and despite his best efforts, even the exec slipped into that once in a while.

And, as much he hated to admit it, Alder was somewhat inexperienced. The largest ships he had served aboard up to that moment had been a light cruiser, the ORS Whirlpool, and even then, he had been but an executive officer.

“I understand, Mister Scytheclaw,” Alder said after a while. “I appreciate yours and every creature’s efforts in that regard, but that is unnecessary. Let’s just make it to Port Kossen. I’m sure that a brief shore leave will help the crew forget all that nonsense.”

The exec nodded. “My exact thoughts, skipper.”

“Send also a radio dispatch and advise Kossen’s port authorities that we have eight shipwrecked sailors and two bodies on board.” He sighed. “Hopefully they’ll take care of sending them home.”

Ted Scytheclaw twisted his beak into an ugly grimace. “Four bodies, sir. Two more of them passed away in the last two hours. Although we should be more concern on how they died.”

Alder furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that, according to Ginger, they were mostly alright, but their injuries were contaminated by an unidentified dust-like substance. Things took a turn for the nasty once she tried to apply healing magic on them. That stuff reacted violently.”

“Violently?”

“They caught fire. Both of them, I mean,” he said bluntly. “If the screams were any indication, it was bad. Hell, one of the nurses had a panic attack, not that I blame her. Ginger and her team have thus reverted to using more conventional healing methods, as she suspects that magic might have something to do the other two ponies’ death.”

The griffon frowned. The radio message had said something about the mysterious airship’s weapons. He did not doubt for a moment that those and the survivors’ death were related. No wonder then the crew was getting nervous; rumours about those gruesome deaths would be surely be running amok by now. What were they dealing with exactly?

“This really is a mess then,” Alder found himself massaging his temples with a claw.

“My exact though, sir,” came Scytheclaw’s reply. “My exact though.”

---

Kaska,

Owlstrian barracks …

Blackwing had picked up his smoking habit relatively late. What had begun just as a simple thing to pass time while he was convalescent five years ago quickly turned into a life-long addition.

There was probably no way to go back now, not without any effort at least. And he preferred to direct his energies toward what was important, so he was going to stick with it for the time being. It was bad for his lungs, sure, but it helped soothe his nerves.

And they needed a lot of soothing right now.

Leaning back against a wall near the main building’s entrance, a half-burned cigarette stuck in his beak, Blackwing reached with a claw inside his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He stared at it thoughtfully for a few moments, before unfolding it and reading it one last time.

Mister Blackwing, you may not know us, but we know of you and of your exploits in Akhri. If you’re reading this message, please be careful to do so away from indiscreet eyes. That said, we would like to arrange a private meeting with you so to discuss a possible transaction.

Hadret Al Kazis Street, number 54, any day or time of your choosing.

Come alone, and keep this in mind,

The stars will aide her escape.

His eyes trailed down towards one last note.

P.S. Burn this, whether you accept or not.

Blackwing gave the message one last look for good measure. Then, as he took another puff, pulled out his lighter and set fire on one of the letter’s corners, dropping it to the ground. Flames quickly devoured the paper, leaving nothing but a few darkened and fuming pieces. A stomp later and only scattered ashes remained.

With that matter settled, he decided to stay out there for a few more minutes and enjoy his cigarette. He still had twenty minutes before meeting the coach at the west gate.

His mind wandered back to the message though, and he frowned thoughtfully.

It was suspicious, no doubt about it. That had been his first thought as he’d read it for the first time two days ago. After all, the letter had arrived in an unmarked enveloped, without any recognizable stamp, nor a sender’s address, causing Blackwing to briefly wonder if it had just been teleported in his office by magic.

His first reaction upon reading that had been to just toss the letter in the dumpster and forget about it. One single thought prevented him from doing it though.

Whoever the author was, he -or she- knew about what had happened during the Summer Riot. Even worse, he knew that Blackwing had been there. But how? That whole affair was supposed to remain secret, the MSO -Ministry of Special Operations- had made sure of that. The fact that he had remained in service after his injury had been a way for them to buy his silence.

He frowned. As much as he disliked it, he had to deal with that or, at the very least, make sure that the information wouldn’t get out. The letter asked him to be alone of course, but there was no way in Tartarus for that to happen. Hopefully Nebula wouldn’t mind if he borrowed one of his section for a few hours.

Blackwing tossed away his now spent cigarette and went inside.

Since Major Longbow’s arrival, the main building had become a lot more crowded almost overnight, as 2^nd Battalion’s administrative personnel was quickly being transferred ahead of the main body of troops. The distinct and metallic clicking of typewriters filled the air, a cacophony of different voices echoing through the corridors as creatures rushed one way or the other to their workstations.

Blackwing made his way to his office, dodging a few paper-carrying clerks as he ascended the stairs. He took a couple of turns, avoided a bunch of furniture laying in the hallway and waiting to be crammed in an office somewhere, and moved to his door at a steady walk.

The griffon halted just a few steps away once he noticed the door ajar. After briefly wondering if he had forgot it open when he left earlier that very morning, he stepped inside. And then frowned.

There was a second griffon in the room. Blackwing quickly recognized him as the Vanguard Captain he had met -sort of- a few days back, when he had been with Longbow’s escort.

And now he was sitting in his chair.

Blackwing frowned, loudly rapping his claw against the door to gain his attention. The griffon looked up from whatever was reading and glanced in his general direction. He still wore his set of googles and a kaki scarf to hide most of his face, the only visible peculiarity being his red-and-white head’s feathers.

“You’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that much, captain,” he said, his tone muffled. He cocked his head to one side as he held up the small book.

Blackwing frown only deepened once he realized that said book came from his collection. The private one, to be specific.

“I don’t remember inviting you here,” he growled, not bothering to hide his irritation. “And I don’t remember saying that you could go through my stuff either.” He walked over to him and quickly snatched the paperback from his claws.

“Also, would you mind getting out of my chair?”

The griffon sighed. “A shame, really. I was getting to the juicy part.” He made no inclination of getting up from the seat. “You mind if I borrow one?” Even if much of his face was covered, Blackwing could have sworn he was smiling.

He glared at the intruder. “Yes, I do mind. Captain, is it?” The griffon nodded. “Why are you here?”

“Well, I was hoping you could help me find a friend of mine.” He rose slowly from the chair and took a step back, the set of enchanted plate armour clinking softly as he did so. “I heard he was in Kaska, you see, but I don’t seem to be able to find him.”

Blackwing’s glare did not relent. “That is not my problem. I don’t deal with that kind of stuff,” he said dismissively. “You could ask my lieutenants about it, but they probably have better things to do now, so I’ll ask you to not disturb them.”

“Besides,” he added with a thin smile, “I don’t usually divulge data about my subordinates without a good reason.”

Something akin to a chuckle came out from the Vanguard’s beak. He reached up with a claw and proceeded to remove his googles, revealing the pair of yellow eyes hiding behind them.

“You know, Eddy, I’ve never thought it could actually happen,” he said as the sand-proof scarf came down too, “but I’m agreeing with Longbow this time. You are an asshole.”

Blackwing barely managed to hold his retort back, as he eyed angrily the griffon. Who did that prick think he was? He’d sat in his chair, went through his own private collection, and now he dared to nickname him?

Blackwing’s beak was half-way open, ready to spit fury right in his face, when something caught his attention and caused him to stop in his tracks. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen this griffon before. Something about him felt definitely familiar.

And then memory finally struck him.

“Greenquill?” Blackwing asked tentatively, unable to stop himself from blinking. “Is that-” He frowned. “Is that you?”

The griffon’s beak split in one huge smile. “The one and only, Eddy!” he boasted. “Why so surprised though? Don’t tell me you did not recognize me.”

In hindsight, Blackwing felt a bit like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Maybe the uniform had fooled him. Lennart Greenquill had not changed all that much since the time he and Blackwing were attending Glassclaw Collegium for Military Education, or the Academy, as most called it.

A bit shorter than him, the griffon had red feathers covering half of his body, matched by a similar crimson fur on the rest, causing the scattered speckles of white to stand out. Furthermore, unlike Blackwing’s, his beak was hook-shaped.

“Talos Almighty, of course I did not!” Blackwing was grinning too now, all his previous anger gone. The two of them went for a clawshake, but then opted for a brotherly hug instead. “I mean, how long it has been, uh?”

“Ten years,” Greenquill pointed out as he took a step back. “I see that you’ve been busy since the Academy. No offense, but you look like hell.”

“Me?! Did you ever take a look at in the mirror in all this time?” He glanced down at the breastplate covering the griffon’s chest. “What happened to the whole Vanguards-are-a-bunch-of-wimps thing?”

He shrugged. “Well, what can I say? It was more of a last-minute development, but it’s not like I was gonna pass it.” Then, with a wink, “Also, the official name is Advance Deployment Special Force.”

Blackwing snickered. “Is there a creature there that actually use it? The full name, I mean.”

“Nope. You’d think the brass would have just given up at that point.” They shared a laugh.

Then, Blackwing’s voice turned serious. “Jokes aside though, what are you doing in Kaska? I thought that all Vanguards regiments had long since returned home.”

“That was the general idea, yeah.” Greenquill said. “But they decided to keep the Thirtieth here. It wouldn’t have been too bad on itself, but some idiot in a very high place decided to split us up and deploy piecemeal.”

Blackwing frowned. “That sounds bad.”

“It does. It’s been some time since I saw most of my company. They’re probably sitting on their behinds somewhere south of here. I’ve heard that the Nilus is beautiful this time of the year.”

“You didn’t answer the question though.”

“I was getting there. Me and a couple of my teams were in Edso when Major Longbow commandeered us to act as his escort. Now, normally I would have just told him to go screw himself because he’s not technically my superior. Me and the others were incredibly bored though, so I accepted it.”

“And you’re still there because-”

Greenquill sighed. “Because it seems that your battalion has requisitioned all the sky carriages available in the entire region, so I can’t get back to Edso.” He blinked. “Oh, and Longbow asked me to keep an eye on you.”

Blackwing had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “He really did that, didn’t he?”

In hindsight, he should have expected the major to eventually try something. The stallion was intelligent enough to know that approaching any creature from his own company to spy on him would probably end up in failure. Blackwing fancied thinking that his subordinates liked him, so turning for an outsider such as Lennart Greenquill seemed like the most obvious solution.

“Is he aware that we know each other?” Blackwing asked. The griffon nodded.

“And yet he decided to rely on you anyway.” He nodded a second time.

Blackwing remained silent for a few moments, deep in thought, as he scratched his lower beak. “Why did you tell me that?”

Greenquill blinked with some surprise. “And why wouldn’t I, Eddy? Your insinuations are wounding me, you know,” he said, trying and failing to maintain and hurtful tone.

“I just wanted to be a good friend.” He winked at him, grinning.

“I’m sure you did,” Blackwing said with a grin of his own.

“Besides, I figured that the easiest way to keep an eye on you was to warn you in advance, so that you wouldn’t try anything stupid. Or illegal, for that matter.” The griffon tilted his head to one side. “You’re not doing anything illegal, right?”

Blackwing made a show of pondering the question for a moment. “As of now? Sort of.” He glanced quickly at his clock and swore silently. He had ten minutes. “And I should really get going now. If you’ll excuse me-”

Blackwing moved over his cot and pulled out the small metal locker hidden underneath. He opened it and retrieved the pistol from his personal belongings. He run a quick check of it, inspecting the firing mechanism and the stored ammunition, before setting it inside the holster.

This was no standard-issue revolver, but a semi-automatic handgun, a little treat he’d decided to buy for himself some years back. It was certainly harder to maintain, but it made up for rate of fire, especially at close range.

He decided to keep his revolver on anyway though, and thus grabbed a few additional magazines for it and storing them inside his pockets.

“How much of an illegal thing are we talking about exactly?” Greenquill asked from behind. Blackwing said nothing though, and he went on checking his equipment. He closed the locker, but not before slipping a pair of small knives in the inside of his jacket.

As he was about to leave though, Blackwing found the door blocked, as Greenquill was leaning against the doorframe, his forelegs crossed. How he had managed to move so silently despite his armour was, and would probably remain, a mystery.

“Do you have any intention of telling me where you’re going, Eddy?” Greenquill asked with a placid grin.

He shrugged. “I’m meeting somepony.” It wasn’t a complete lie of course.

“I see.” The griffon’s answer was furrowing his eyebrows, clearly unconvinced. “And since when does that require you to carry all those weapons around?”

“It’s complicated,” Blackwing said after a pause.

“I’m sure it is.” He slapped his talons together, stepping away from the doorframe. “Well, you’ll have all the time to fill me on the details, cause I’m coming with you.”

“No, you are not,” Blackwing said without so much as a hesitation.

“Oh, I think I am, Eddy.” Greenquill’s smile turned vicious. “The Major said I had to keep an eye on you, after all. And we both know that, of the two of us, you’re the one good at lying.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” His eyes narrowed.

The armoured griffon shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows, really.” He lowered his voice as his grin only broadened further. “Do you want to find out?”

Blackwing knew already the answer. He sighed. He really did not have much of a choice anyway. “Fine, then!” He hissed. “You can come if you want. You’re an asshole, you know that, right?” His tone was sullen.

Meanwhile, Greenquill just kept on grinning. On the opposite, the grin seemed to be growing bigger by the moment. He really had not changed a bit since their days at the Academy.

“Oh, come on, Eddy. Cheer up!” He took a step closer, wrapping one foreleg around Blackwing’s shoulders in a brotherly fashion. “It’s going to be like the good old days back at the Academy, you know. Just the two of us, far from home, and looking for troubles.”

Blackwing said nothing but couldn’t help himself from visibly grimacing. There would be no time to time to ask for assistance from 3^rd Company now. It was, as he had said, just the two of them, walking blindly into what was probably a pretext to put a bullet into the feathered back of his head.

He knew, deep down, that it was going to be a long day.

Comments

[Merchant Mariner]

Looks like those experimental weapons pack even more punch after the fact than they first let on. Gonna be nasty when Tempest and co. figure out how to solve the issues they come with.

I'm interested in how that side of the story will pan out eventually. Maybe we'll even get to see some ship vs. airship action? There's a lot of ways it could go wrong for either side depending on how they approach the fight.

Though in a world where a significant portion of the population can fly, I'm going to assume all ships have decent AA batteries. Unlike what we had in WW1 / Interwar era vessels.