Ponies, cannons, and war

by Fashionably Late

Chapter 1: Where am I? What's going on? And why am I a pony with cannons?

Author's Note:

Hello, hello! This Fashionably Late! Finally posting a story from somewhere for some reason! First ever story and it's a MLP crossover with Kantai Collection, and who know what else. Huh, thought I was going to post a MLP/Pokemon crossover, but I'm stuck on transitioning and that story is not going to be published for a long time while this story has a 2nd chapter in the works. Hoping to publish that within a week...or a month. Thank god I didn't start with a MLP/Kingdom Hearts crossover, even if that would have been the start of a cinematic universe. Now, enough with my rambling and let's start the show.

I like routine, perhaps a bit too much. From what I can remember I’d always wake up in bed and just lay there for a bit. Sometimes I’d try and get some more rest, sometimes I’d just stare at the ceiling or look around my room and think, sometimes I’d…probably shouldn’t mention that. Point is that I have a routine and I don’t like it when routine is thrown into disarray. I’d get angry at having it disrupted and confused and worried about what was going to happen and what I was supposed to do.

Why am I bringing this up?

Well, imagine being woken up to something that sounded like an explosion, having your head thrown up and opening up your eyes directly into the sun and having a curtain of cold water douse you.

Yeah, needless to say I was awake, pissed and panicking.

And, after shaking my head to get rid of the water and dancing white spots in my vision while being mindful of my glasses, taking a look around did not help.

Once again, why?

Well, that was because I was in the middle of nowhere. No, not just the middle of nowhere. I was in the middle of the fucking ocean! Am I crazy!?

…

Wait, I wasn’t sinking?

…

A look downward confirmed that I was standing on water. Like Jesus or Naruto. It was like being in a bouncy castle. The waves calmly bounce up and down as if someone nearby were jumping on the floor. It was almost relaxing how the waves were flowing around my hooves.…wait what?

…

I have hooves!? What happened to my hands, and why can’t I feel my toes!?

“Ok, if there was ever a time not to be calm, this is it!”

…
“Ok, ok, just stay calm, or keep the panicking to a minimum. Take stock of the situation.” After trying to reassure myself, I raised my right hand, hoof I mean, to my head for a better look at it. I can see that it was covered in brown fur...or was it tanned? Rosy? Either way it looked like it was about the same, or if not similar, color/shade as my old human skin. Like if somebody turned my hand into a hood and covered the rest of the arm in fur. Oh, and there was a strange metal…gauntlet? Boot? Yeah, boot, I’m going with “boot” since I’m going to be walking with it. A metal boot that was grey on the top and bright red on the bottom, battleship gray and antifouling red said a small cheerful voice in my head. Looking at the bottom of the boot also showed that my hoofprint was almost a perfect circle. My left leg was almost identical save for my old silver(?) watch. I looked down at my legs…hindlegs to see whether or not they were the same as my forehooves and I could see that my hindlegs also had the same/similar armor and…either my…pipe was well hidden or life/the world/the universe/whatever decided that since I wasn’t using it that I clearly didn’t need it anymore.

…

I don’t know how to feel about that one. First I’ve been turned into a horse…pony…thing and now I’m missing a key piece of equipment that I would have liked to use at least once in my life! Wait, now I know what I feel about that one. I’m getting upset!

…

“Ok, calm down, calm down.” Maybe it was hidden really well. I wasn’t an expert in…whatever you call someone who cares for horses…ponies, I am going to refer to myself as a pony since my lisp/accent makes it sound like I’m saying a different word that sounds similar and I’m still not sure if I’m a stallion or a mare.

…

Finally looking over my shoulder to look at my back, where a weight had been since I woke up, I saw my…rigging? Was “rigging” the right term? Bah, it’s rigging. My rigging manifested like a pair of saddlebags, or at least I was assuming it was a pair set considering I could only see one set of two gun turrets in a superfiring position off my right side, starboard repeated the second resigned voice, at the moment alongside some casemate mounted guns and a pair of, what I had to believe to be, anti-aircraft guns. On my back was a massive yet squat construct of blocky metal that had to be my conning tower, and something behind the tower that was tall and lean. It was hard to get a good look at it without having to break my neck to do so. Instead, I looked to my left, port shouted that second voice, and saw an identical set of superimposed turrets, casemate and anti-aircraft guns and…

“Oh dear lord, was that a cage mast!?”

…

Yep…yeah, that is a cage mast…

…

“What!? Why!?” Why was it a cage mast? Why did I have a cage mast? Oh god, that must mean that it was a cage mast behind the conning tower…

…

Ok, so that was the bad news. The good news, and I was grasping at straws here, was that since I knew a tiny bit about early 20th century naval history, which was either the reason I was stuck in this situation or just a minor and happy coincidence, I could identify the type of ship I was, and right now the biggest clue I had was those fucking cage masts!

…

Ahem. As I was thinking, those cage masts must mean that I was a 1910s American dreadnought battleship since no other navy used that style of mast…except maybe the American battleships built for Argentina. What were their names? Rivadavia class? Either way, most other navies used either tripod masts or some other design that I can’t think of right now and American battleships built during the 1930s did not have cage masts. Can’t be a pre-dreadnought or an armored cruiser, the superimposed turrets were a dead give away. Can’t be a heavy or light cruiser either, most used three gun turrets while those that did mount two gun turrets didn’t have the right number of them, the Omahas resembled armored cruisers with only two twin gun turrets, the Atlanta class had three superimposed turrets forward of the bridge with a matching set aft and the Pensacolas mounted a mixed battery of two twin and two triple gun turrets. So, that must make either a South Carolina, Colorado or a New York and the fifth turret was behind my head.

“Hey!”

Ok, now I know that I’m actually hearing things. Looking off in the direction that sound came from led to me staring at a chubby little doll-like creature with an oversized head for its body standing on a platform connected to my conning tower. Right over my shoulder.

“Gah!”
“Hey!”

Ok, I could have reacted better than jerking off to the side and sending the “doll” tumbling into the side of my neck, but I scare easily. And it’s not like she was sent into the water. Small miracles, right?

“Hey!”
“Sorry, sorry. You scared me there for a second. Jeez, I wasn’t exactly expecting to see someone literally starting over my shoulder, ya know?”
“Hey! Hey!”
“So, who are you?”
“Hey! Hey!”

While at first I was going to entertain the idea of talking to the “doll” like it was my dog or cat, the fact that I literally understood it…her say “I’m your captain” tossed that idea aside. Because this was not a doll, but what I had to assume was a fairy. And considering I was currently walking on water with enough firepower to erase a town from existence, I had to be a shipgirl…er mare…

“So, does that mean you know what sort of battleship I am?
[Not really.]
“What?”
[Well, you’re not a New York class battleship. You only have four twin gun turrets, not five.]
“Oh.”
“Hey!”

That…that wasn’t the captain.

“Who was that?”
[Oh, that was the artillery officer.]

How many of them are there?

“What did she say?”
[She said that you have eight 14 inch guns.]

…wait.

“I’ve got 14 inch guns?”
[Yes, does that help?]
“That…no…kinda? I mean, South Carolina mounted 12 inch guns while Colorado had 16 inch guns.”
[Oh, ok then.]
“Hey! Hey!”
“Who was that?”
[That was the torpedo officer.]
“...why do I have a torpedo officer?”
[Because you have four underwater torpedo tubes?]
“Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!”
“...who was that?
[That was the recording officer.]
“Recording officer? Oh thank god, please tell me she has my recognition diagrams, design drawings, or something.”
[She doesn’t.]
“...then what did she say?”
[...she says you might be the love child of an American battleship and a foreign battlecruiser.]

…what?

“Hey!”
“Gah!”

Unexpectedly another fairy appeared beside my captain, startling me.

[I mean no disrespect, but we need to find a friendly port to pull into. We are short on fuel and do not know where we are. It might be a good idea to try and solve both issues soon.]
“Who are you?”
[I’m your deputy-captain.]
“Oh…kay. And do you know where we should go?”
[No, I don’t. We left port without charts for some reason.] She stated while glaring at the captain as if it were her fault.
“Sigh, ok then. Do we atleast have a compass?”
[We do, yes.] She stated, looking back towards me.
“Ok then. We go west.”
[Why west?]
“Why not? Unless you have a better idea?”
[No, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean we should just wander aimlessly.] She snapped.
“Well unless you’ve got a better idea then this is the best idea we’ve got! I’m not going stand here doing nothing when we could be heading towards civilization already.” I snapped back as she flinched.
[Very well. I or rather the captain will have the navigation officer chart our progress.] She went back to glaring at the captain who snapped back into attention.
[Right, I’ll have navigation track our progress.]
“Good, now let’s get moving.” I said taking a step forward…

…before falling flat on my face.

“As soon as I figure out walking.”

---

“Captain’s log…”
“Hey!”
“Nothing, it’s just something from TV.”
[Oh, ok then.] Replied the captain.
[If you’re going to make a log then it should be the ship’s log.] Stated the dispirited deputy-captain.
“Look, I was just joking, ok? I wasn’t going to make a log or something.”
[Would you like me to record your log?] Asked the recording officer.
“...if ya don’t mind.” I hadn’t thought my little joke would’ve been taken this seriously.
[Ok then. You can go ahead now.]
“Ok, so where was I? Oh, yes! Ship’s log, number 1. It has been…how long has it been?”
[Three hours.] Chirped the captain.
“Three hours, really?”
[Yes!] Roared the deputy-captain. [It took you fifteen minutes to figure out how to walk on all fours, an hour and forty-five minutes to build up steam and sail at full ahead without falling flat on your face and another hour to determine your maximum speed!]
“Ok, ok, jeez. You don’t have to shout.”
[...I apologize for my outburst. It just seems like no one is taking this situation seriously.]
“...well, I haven’t realized the weight of the situation admittedly. But…”
[But nothing! Our supplies are limited so we have to find a friendly port to resupply in.]
“Ok! But that doesn’t mean you have to be at everyone’s throat about it. We will find a friendly port and will resupply. We will get through this as a team or not at all! Understand?”
[...yes ma’am. I understand.]
“Good. Now, as I was saying. It took three hours to figure out the ‘walking on all fours’ part, sailing at full ahead without falling on my face, determining what my maximum speed was and what ship I am.”
[Really!] The captain interrupted excitedly. [What sort of ship are you and how did you figure it out?]
“Well it’s simple really. As y'all are aware of from the aforementioned three hours ago, I determined that I was a 1910s American dreadnought battleship on account of the…cage masts and that I was armed with eight 14 inch guns, thank you artillery officer. ”
[You’re welcome.]
“And that…confused the hell out of me since that pretty much ruled out every single American battleship.”
[What about the battleships you mentioned that were built for Argentina? The Rivadavias?]
“Oh, them? Yeah, the Rivadavias mounted 12 inch guns in half a dozen turrets, a superfiring pair forward, another superfiring pair aft and a pair of wing turrets. Dunno why they went with that design since the Orions just came out and Argentina used their presence to reject the initial designs and force a redesign using the “best” attributes of the last batch of designs, but I’m going off on a tangent. The point is, I am clearly not an American battleship or any other battleship…I think.”
[But I thought you said you figured out what sort of ship you were?] The captain asked in a way I’d swear included a head tilt.
“Well, look. I’m still not one hundred percent sure, but I have a theory. An idea of what ship I am.”
[And what is this “theory” of yours then.] Snarked the deputy-officer.
“Well, the theory came to me after the sea trials showed that me design speed was thirty knots.”
[You’re basing this just off your speed!?]
“Yes, because that sort of speed in the 1910s could only be achieved by destroyers and cruisers. ”
[Destroyers and…cruisers…] She trailed off.
[Oh! So does that mean you’re a battlecruiser?] Excitedly asked the captain.
“...yes, if you want to cut straight to the chase.”
[You couldn’t have said that earlier!?...and with less talking?] Groaned the deputy-captain.
“Well, look. I just want to make sure that I’ve covered my bases. I was so sure that I had to be an American battleship that was built, so being told about the number and caliber of guns threw me off. But with the speed I can reach? It’s so obvious that I’m a 1910s battlecruiser since a 1930s fast battleship design wouldn’t have cage masts and would either have more guns in three gun turrets or larger caliber guns. Ergo, I must be an early Lexington design from when Kongou was laid down.” It was all starting to make sense now, even if I had to condense my reasoning.
[Huh, now that you mention it, you kinda remind me of the Hiei.] Pointed out the captain.
“...Hiei? Not Kongou?” That…that was odd and didn’t make sense. I mentioned Kongou, not Hiei, so why mention Hiei at all?
[I…I think so. Hiei’s tower was closer to Yamato’s rather than her sisters.] She replied haltingly.
“But I still have the cage masts, so I still don’t know why you’re comparing me to Hiei and not Kongou.” Or even bringing up Yamato at all…oh god, running into Yamato would not end well, even if it was possible to outrun her.
[I think…what the captain means is that we are more familiar with Hiei than Kongou.] Slowly explained the captain.
“Why would you be more familiar with Hiei than Kongou?”

…

[...I’m not sure.] The deputy-captain admitted after a long pause.

…

Ok, this is odd. I mean, being turned into a pony/ship thing and left in the middle of the ocean was odd enough, but having a crew manning what seemed to be a battlecruiser that never existed…or atleast was never built by a nation that never fielded battlecruisers in the first place know more about Japanese battlecruisers enough to know the differences between two of them and not know anything, or at least not enough to prove otherwise, about battleships from the nation that designed the ship they were on in the first place? That was strange…or maybe they already crossed that line sometime ago…

[Excuse me.]

That…that was the recording officer.

“Yes?”
[Does that mean you really are the forbidden love child between an American battleship and Kongou!?]

Gah!

“Are you still recording this!?”
[Yes?]
“Cut the recording! Cut the recording! And captain!”
[Yes!]
“Tell me that we have some training munitions for our main guns!”
[I think we have some, but let me check the munitions locker.]
[Forty-eight.]
“Huh?” That voice wasn’t one I heard recently…I think? It did sound familiar.
[Forty-eight.] The voice repeated again.
[We have forty-eight rounds?] Asked the captain.

…

[We have forty-eight rounds.] She repeated confidently.
“Who was that?” I am getting blase about the voices in my head, aren’t I? Eh, at least they were talking back. That…was that supposed to help or not?
[That was the artillery officer.]
[Wait a minute! You can’t possibly be thinking about holding a gunnery drill now! Especially when we haven’t found a friendly port to resupply in!] And that was the deputy-captain interjecting after remaining silent for a while.

“And that’s the problem.”
[Huh.]
“Not only do we not know where a friendly port is, but we don’t know if we’re in friendly territory.”

…

That seemed to catch their attention.

[..do you think we’ll be attacked?]
“I don’t know. At best, no, we will not be attacked. At worst…actually we’ll be attacked by submarines or aircraft, but if we are attacked by a surface force then I at least want to make sure I can shoot back without knocking out my own guns and actually hit them.”

…

[...ok, I’ll get some targets.] The captain responded momentarily.

Comments

[Dreadnought]

Ooh, choosing a battlecruiser for your cover art - risky move. They may be faster, but lack the armor of pure dreadnoughts. If anything, fast battleships offer a nice balance of speed, armor, and firepower.

[Fashionably Late]

11870375
True, true and that is exactly why I choose a battlecruiser, among other reasons.