The Crimson Fox

//The Crimson Fox//

By Ezra Ngawaka

The rumble and hiss of steam echoed through the hull of the ship. She was a work of art, built with sturdy bronze plating, carefully riveted together with bolts of steel. The Crimson Fox was shaped like a old, Victorian ship, with a unique steel crescent ram mounted on the front that shined with silver paint. She ran on steam, pipes filled with it snaking throughout her hull. The balloon was worn and old, but certainly not uncared for. Cloth has been stitched onto almost all of it, careful repairs to retain the lifeblood of the ship. The Crimson Fox was a unique design, only one lower deck, but it was designed so efficiently that it only needed one.

She had the air of a trader around her, but the Crimson Fox was not just any trader. This ship was designed for battle. At the bow of the ship sat a pyrotechnic flak cannon, designed to cripple and set an apposing ship alight. On each side of the ship two machine guns were mounted. These heavy weapons were deadly accurate, and could punch through thickened armour with ease. Four propellers, ( Two large ones for thrust and two smaller ones for steering, ) were built into the back of the ship that gave the Crimson Fox her speed. One problem with her, was that she carried very light armour.

Being built for speed had its advantages. She could dodge and weave around targets, popping them out of the sky one by one, but if they hit, they hit hard. The only place with strong armour was around the magazine, where all the ammunition and explosives were kept. Good weaponry can pierce her light armour relatively easily, so in order to stay alive, she needs to reinforce this room. If you set off the amount of explosive material in there, the whole ship goes down in one, huge fireball. The Crimson Fox was a beautiful ship, and she was mine.

My name is Jarvis, and this is my ship.

I was on the top deck, leaning across the railing, examining the trading town ahead. Built in a large fissure in one of the many small sky islands dotted throughout the atmosphere, it was a mini fortress. Platforms with all sorts of heavy weaponry lined the walls and across bridges built to traverse to the other side of the extreme landscape feature. We would have to pay a toll to dock here, but we needed to stock up on supplies.

My great-grandfather once told me that the before the great war, ponies lived on the ground. He had said that when he was a colt, he lived in a small town on the surface, brightly coloured hills covered with animals and a deep blue sky. Now, it is radioactive garbage. I think he is just delusional. How can grass and trees be green? It would look out of place.

“Captain?” A voice inquires.

I sigh, and turn slowly. Standing at attention behind me was Roderick, a light gray Stallion with a short-cut black mane. Across his back was sheathed his custom built rifle. Roderick was my finest shot of the entire crew. With that rifle of his, he could hit somepony on another ship two hundred metres away. He had his red tinted goggles resting on top of his head, as usual.

“Sir?" Roderick insisted. "Another vessel is approaching.”

Abandoning my thoughts, I faced my trusted gunner, and friend.

“What colours she flying?”

“Blue and teal.”

That was the towns colours. They must be here to receive their toll. Roderick turned and pointed with a hoof towards the port side. I turned and followed his direction. Clear in the sky, lay a lightly armed ship, designed for cheap manufacturing slowly approaching.

“Roderick, my eyeglass.” I ordered.

He trotted away, and came back within a minute, grasping my adjustable telescope in his mouth. He threw it towards me. Catching it easily, I opened it and propped it up against the railing. Pushing it against my eye, I focused apon the ponies piloting the vessel. Gunners were ready, weapons loaded. They weren't taking any chances. Further up, I found the captain. He was dressed in an exquisite blue jacket. He had a brown coat, with a combed yellow mane. He was busy yelling at his crew, who cowered under his gaze.

I closed my eyeglass and hooked it onto my jacket.

“Signal them to come abreast.” I ordered.

Roderick saluted and smartly turned towards the mirrorcolts, Ned and Hotfoot. He walked towards them shouting orders. Nodding, Ned and Hotfoot started tilting their mounted signaling mirror to reflect the sun at the toll ship. They belted out a series of flashes, and  waited for a response. Seconds later, the other vessel started flashing back at us. The mirrorcolts stared intently, and when the flashes stopped, stated something to Roderick. The sniper turned and quickly trotted over to me.

“Acknowledged. Coming abreast portside.”

The toll ship drew closer. They kept their weapons trained on us. I had ordered my own gunners to return the gesture. The approaching ship, under close scrutiny, had a cunning scale-like armour plating. This iron plating design allowed an effective, cheap and easily replaceable system of protection. Most of the hull was the dull grey of metal, but small streaks of metallic, golden paint shined in the afternoon sun. The balloon was painted in the town colours and lightly armoured at the front end. A golden, triangular tip on the balloon allowed it to be more protected out the front against light fire and can also be used as a ram as a last resort.

The ship was close now. It had started to turn so it could be  anchored alongside the port side of my ship. I could see the crew without my eyeglass now. They were perhaps five minutes until docked.

Roderick stood beside me, carefully watching the other vessels gunners. He had slid his goggles down, just in case he had to use his rifle, which was close at hoof.

"Have you seen the captain's leg yet Sir?" Roderick suddenly asked me.

"No. What's wrong with it?"

"Look closely."

I squinted at the commander of the ship. I cant quite get a good... Wait. I noticed a metallic gleam glance across his left foreleg. It was made out of metal! As the vessel came to dock, I saw the tell-tale gleam of silver plating.

Clunk. They had anchored.

All was tense silence. The crews stared cautiously at one another. One of mine slowly cantered towards other ship with a long board clamped in his teeth. As he deployed it, the other captain trotted casually over to it. Three hoofbeats and then a heavy thunk. He stopped at the end of the boarding plank. He scanned over my crew with his orange eyes, and stopped suddenly when they hit me. A slow, creepy grin spread across his face.

"Permission to board, 'captain?'" He asked, drawing out the last syllable.

After a second, he just walked up anyway. Two rifleponies trotted after him, grinning along with their boss.

"So, what are you scum doing up here?" One asked. The other snickered.

Their boss stood before me. He was tall, tall enough for me to have to crane my neck to look at him. His was still grinning.

"What's the toll this time?" I asked him.

"One hundred bits."

"That's cheaper than last time." Roderick whispered in my ear behind me.

I turned, and Roderick frowned and shifted the weight of his weapon on his back.

I doubt that they decreased it at all.

The Captain did his grin again, getting impatient.

Something seemed a bit off. I crossed to the starboard side, and looked out at the defenses. The anti-aircraft guns were pointed at us.. wait. They were also aiming at their own toll ship.

I walked to the front of my ship. Glancing over at the other ship, I noticed their crew looked a little suspicious. Why were they all armed? Why does this ship have special armour? I suddenly realised something.

"RODERICK!" I shouted. He turned and leveled his gun towards the enemy captains head. With a surprised expression, he tried to duck.

Blam.

Too slow.

Blood sprayed across the deck. A two centimetre hole had appeared in the "toll ship's" captains skull. All was deafeningly silent. Suddenly, everypony sprung into action. Crewmembers shot their pistols, and bodies hit the deck.

They were mercenaries.

I ran full tilt towards the helm, bullets ricocheting off metal around me. They were using cheap ammo, my brain decided to note as I yanked on our propellers onto full speed.The Crimson Fox eagerly jumped into action. I turned her towards the entrance of the canyon, and we ran.

The anti-aircraft guns from the chasing ship fired. The sound reached us with an ear-splitting explosion. Two of the heavy rounds pierced the Crimson Fox's hull, and I felt her shudder with the impacts. One of the captains 'escorts' screamed as he was shoved off the side by one of my engineers. The other was cowering by Ned, who had drawn his pistol at him. Seeing a small pool slowly form beneath the former captains guard, I couldn't help but smile.

We were pulling away from the false toll ship. She was directly behind, trying to hit us with mounted machineguns. She was an inexperienced ship, and the crew  had probably never fought on her before.

We need to finish this fast.

"Bring out the Manticore!" I ordered.

Two of my crew ran below deck. It was Metaljaw and his spotter, Golden Eye. Metaljaw got his name for having the ability to brace against the recoil of very heavy weaponry, and his spotter was named Golden Eye for his golden replacement eye that gave him exceptional sight. These two were best friends, and the best at firing that damn weapon.

A few loud clunks vibrated the entire ship. I turned and looked back at the pursuing ship. Slowly, the back panel in between the propellers lowered, and a enormous missile launcher poked out.

It happened in under a second. Hundreds of projectiles the size of my  hoof streaked away from us, jolting us forward with the sheer power of the recoil. Hundreds of missiles sounding like angry bees from hell spiraled towards our enemy. I could just imagine the expressions of surprise, fear and confusion on the apposing crews faces. Then with an almighty explosion, they were no more.

Again, we were jolted forwards. The shockwave of displaced energy rippled away from the point of impact, sending vibrations throughout my vessel.

After a moment, all was silent. No more gun fire, no more yelling, nothing. Then suddenly, the entire crew cried out in victory. Cheering and whoops in the background, Roderick trotted up behind me with my eyeglass. I took it with a nod of thanks, and he returned it with a grin.

I extended the telescope and examined the town again. Even across this large distance, I could faintly see some awestruck expressions.

"Well, now they know that we ain't just any trading ship." Roderick said.

By the time we were docked, it was getting dark.  to go relax. I walked off the Crimson Fox's gang plank along with Roderick and onto the port's quay. It would of been busy with activity if everypony wasn't staring at us as they walked past. We were looking for the local tavern. Our crew had left and gone off with their own coins to spend while docked. A few guarded the ship, Metaljaw, Golden Eye and Quake. They'll do great. We walked down a large cobbled street off the quay and into the town. The buildings around us were constructed on sturdy brick foundations. Most of then were strong wooden buildings two or three stories high. The rooftops were shingled with a gray stone. Roderick stopped me and pointed to a building. Above the large, welcoming door hung a sign with a symbol for cider engraved into it.

Perfect.

We entered, and we were hit with a soundwave of chatter. The tavern was lit up brightly, from a large fireplace in the southern wall. Tables were crowded with ponies gossiping, gambling, and of course, getting drunk. The red brick walls were occasionally broken by brightly coloured banners depicting scenes of heroic battles. As Roderick trotted over to one of the last empty tables, I went over to the barkeep. His old wrinkled face wore a cheery smile as he asked what I wanted to drink.

"Two Ciders please," I asked. "And don't water it down!"

He grinned and grabbed a few mugs.