The MH-60M flew through the air, headed south. The roar of its rotors washed over the countryside below, easily audible even a mile away.

Inside, however, was another matter. With the doors closed, the rotors only came through as an extremely muffled sound. It was dead-quiet inside as the Russians who could understand English waited for the radio transmission to be patched through.

“What is happening?” Novikov asked in Russian.

“A High-Frequency radio transmission was detected. They are trying to play it to us.” Sokolov replied.

“Can somepony explain to us what is going on?” The pegasus in the back said.

Vasilyev turned to the two ponies. “We have an incoming message over the radio, and we are trying to listen to it.”

“What’s a radio?” The second pony, a unicorn, asked.

“It is a device for long-distance transmissions.” Vasilyev replied.

That seemed to satisfy the ponies, as they turned towards each other and started to talk. Ignoring them, Vasilyev turned back to the cockpit.

“We have a lock on the transmission, patching it through to your ‘Net’ units now.” The pilot said.

Sokolov winced as static came through his headset, followed by rapid speaking.

“Кто-нибудь слышит нас? Это Адмирал Нахимов Новой русской Федерации. Мы недавно были вовлечены в борьбу с американскими и русскими войсками, и мы были потоплены, но мы оказались в море! Мы не можем подобрать любой GPS или радиопередач, и мы потеряли! [Can anybody hear us? This is the Admiral Nakhimov of the New Russian Federation. We were recently involved in a battle against American and Russian forces, and we were sunk, but we have found ourselves at sea! We cannot pick up any GPS or radio transmissions, and we are lost!]”

A few seconds later, the message repeated.

“What does it say?” The American sergeant asked Vasilyev, who gave him a blank stare.

“It’s a radio message from a New Russian Federation battlecruiser named the Admiral Nakhimov.” The lieutenant tensely replied. “They are requesting contact with anybody in the vicinity, as they were apparently sent to wherever this is as well.”

“Should we contact them?” Another one of the Americans asked.

“We should.” Petrov replied. “I don’t care if they are New Russian Federation or not. They are here as well, and we shall need all the help we can get.”

“Let me talk to them.” Vasilyev said, moving to the cockpit, where the pilot opened a radio channel for him on the same frequency.

“Это лейтенант Васильев из России. Мы копируем вашу передачу, и у нас есть четкое представление о том, где мы находимся. [This is Lieutenant Vasilyev of the Russian Federation. We copy your transmission, and we have a fair idea of where we are.]”

There was a short pause, before a reply came over the radio. “Мы копируем ваш последний. Где мы находимся? [We copy your last. Where are we?]”

“Слушай внимательно, адмирала Нахимова. Мы очень буквально на другой планете. Мы вступили в контакт с жителями, и это было, конечно, не самая мирная. Сейчас мы находимся в американский вертолет: наш собственный разбился, когда мы были в Москве, и что было, когда мы появились здесь. Ты меня слышишь? [Listen carefully, Admiral Nakhimov. We are most literally on another planet. We have made contact with the inhabitants, and it was most certainly not peaceful. We are currently in an American helicopter: Our own crashed while we were in Moscow, and that was when we appeared here. Do you copy?]”

The radio was silent for ten seconds before their reply came in rough but understandable English.

“This is Captain 1st Rank Volkov of the Admiral Nakhimov. To whom am I speaking?”

Vasilyev adjusted his microphone, and used a simple command to add the American sergeant to the ‘call’, before replying. “This is Lieutenant Vasilyev of the Russian Federation. The American I am with is also in this transmission.”

“And this is First Sergeant James Anderson of the United States Marines. We read you, over.” The American sergeant chimed in.

‘Captain Volkov’ wasted no time in replying. “Is it true? Are we on another planet entirely?”

“We have no contact with GPS or any satellites and the areas we have found have been inhabited by sapient horses. Either we are on another planet, or I am dead.” Vasilyev replied.

“Can your group trace our signal? We need to work together if we are to survive, if what you say is true.”

“Should we trust them?” Sokolov said, having overheard the radio conversation.

“No other options, are there?” One of the American replied. “We have to trust them.”

Having heard their conversation, Vasilyev turned his attention back to the microphone in his ‘Net’ unit. “We can. What does your system say?” The Russian lieutenant asked, while focusing his ‘Net’ unit’s resources on tracing the transmission and getting a bearing.

“You are approximately forty miles to our east, and moving approximately south.” Came the reply from another voice, this one young and eager.

“Rodger. We are moving south, and we will trace and follow. Keep this transmission open.” Vasilyev closed off the radio on his ‘Net’ unit, and turned to the pilots.

“Head east, and follow the bearing on the transmission.” He said. “Go until you see a ship, and await further instructions.”

“Rodger that, Ruskie.” The pilot said, banking the helicopter. “Nothing like a nice flight over the ocean to end a day on. Mark the time, Lucas. Two o’ clock, approximant.”

Vasilyev moved back into the crew compartment of the helicopter as they headed for the coast, sitting down on a chair and resting his head back. It had been a long day, and, hopefully, they would find more answers when they reached the Admiral Nakhimov.

He just hoped that their next contact with the ‘ponies’ would be peaceful. It likely would not be, considering their past contacts, but he could always hope.

That hope was probably misplaced, but he held on to it all the same. Without it, they would be doomed to simply wander, possibly killing wherever they went. As the leader of a MVD Spetsnaz team, the elite of his military, the worst scenario he could envision would be to see them corrupted: Become simple killers instead of soldiers.

As they crossed over the coast, headed for the ship of their former enemies, Vasilyev made himself a promise, one that he would never forget. He vowed one thing, and one thing alone.

He would never let them descend to that.

Author's Note

Hope you like the plot twist there, and the craziness that will ensue. The next chapter will be the last of Act II, and the beginning of Act III will be some time after that.