This Is Not A Drill

"Would somepony like to explain to me exactly how in the name of Princess Luna above a LIVE cruise missile with a MEGASPELL WARHEAD WAS FIRED FROM THIS SHIP WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT ORDER?!" The Captain fumed as he charged up onto the missile deck, his hoofsteps resounding loudly against the hard metal floor. I cringed and stepped out of his way - first the storm strands my wing on this ship, and now we had an Equestrian missile launched at our own country? Could this day get any worse than it already has? The maintainence crew scurried about as Capt. Dazzle continued through, inspecting each of the seventeen remaining cruisers on deck.

"Captain Seafire? Everything alright?" My ears perked at the sound of one of my squad trotting up behind me, giving her dampened feathers a ruffle. Turning to face her - Pfc. Wildcat, prettiest mare in the whole wing - I let off a sigh, hearing thunder cracking over in the distance. The whole destroyer shifted with the restless sea, tilting back and forth uneasily beneath us, making it a bit of a challenge to just keep upright.

"Wildcat... I'm really not sure. I mean, they said that the cruiser detonated over the northern deserts, but... guh, just call me worried. Everypony else in the wing gone below deck already? How's Scram doing with his wing?" I moved off of the railing overlooking the missile deck, beginning to trot down the small overlook walkway to the stairs. Destroyers weren't exactly made for pegasi to land on easily, let alone when they're being tossed around in the middle of a storm. Wildfire followed alongside, spray from the frigid sea sprinkling over us as the wind whipped around the bridge, us both diving in through the bulkhead and shutting it tight behind.

"The doc said that he ought to be good to make it back to base once this storm passes. What a stroke of goddess-forsaken luck we wind up caught in it on Hearth's Warming Eve." Our hoofsteps clanged down the hallway, damp clothes hanging off of our backs. It was just supposed to be an average patrol flight, damnit. Somepony could've told us that we were testing some new fancy weather tech BEFORE we left...

"Bravo Lucy Tango Norman, I guess." We stopped outside the bunkrooms - or were they called something else on these things? - and moved back, letting a pair in coveralls with tools jangling about on their belts rush by, heading to help with the rest of the missiles as well. The ship pitched again, and we both wound up sliding into each other on the opposite wall, rather embarrasingly to say the least. Stupid watercraft, what good did they ever do... other than move invasion forces, provide anti-dragon support and soften seaside fortresses... alright, alright, I get it already. I'd rather have my auto-loaders and agility over a floating safe, though.

"Oofh... buh, sooner that we can get back home, the better. How much longer do you think the war can go on, anyways?" Wildcat was musing again, but she kind of had a point. After so much fighting, surely they were at least on their last hooves now, the striped bastards. Then again, things have looked that way for almost a decade now...

"No clue. If we live to see those things Old Dazzle has back there launch off in anything other than an accident, doubt it would go on for long afterwards." We trotted in silence for a short while, the hum of the engines and heaters resonating against the heavy storm outside. Big metal beasts, these things were. Wildcat let off a sigh, brushing her damp mane out of her eyes.

"Hopefully we can see to it ending before that happens. Hopefully." With a bit of effort, the sick bay bulkhead was able to be coaxed open, the softened, familiar grunt of a firey-blue-maned pegasus pawing at the bandages wrapped around his wings being the first thing to greet our ears, the ship seeming to start to settle, finally.

"Guh, how much longer'm I going to have to have these damn things on? Cap, we gotta head back to base, storm or not." Lt. Scram-Jet, stubborn son of a mule'd fly through a twister if he had two feathers left. Exactly why I wanted him in with my wing. We fit in alongside his cot, grabbing onto the rails in anticipation of the ship rolling again. He seemed to be fuming, even when he winced at touching his slammed wing.

"Cool your tailfeathers Lieutenant, we're not going anywhere until this rogue storm blows over. Don't even think about going out to clear it." He let off a defeated sigh, laying back in the bed and resting his hooves across his chest. With a smirk, I let go of the railing, trotting around to the foot of the bed. "So, what have we learned, Lieutenant Scram?" He pouted, fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Don't try to land on the mid-deck of a destroyer bridge in winds exceeding 25 knots and with a rough sea... sir." Letting of a grunt, he looked up towards the ceiling of the sick bay, myself smirking widely. Some grunts just never seem to get it out of their systems.

"I'll have to remember that quip for the post-sortie report... -Specialist- Scram." Wildcat stifled a snicker, following behind as I made my way out through the bulkhead. She came up alongside and glanced back, a grin on her face. "He'll get it eventually..." Scram seemed to harrumph annoyedly, hooves crossed, before his eyes popped open.

"Specialis- wait a minute!" Needless to say, we laughed all the way back to the bunks.

I was used to the sounds of thunder and waves crashing - funny how closely they resembled artillery fire in the trenches - but the very squelchy splash of hay fries and MREs hitting the floor beside my cot definitely was foreign. The sound of retching rang throughout the bunkroom, another spray of vomit falling from the upper bunk, followed by exhausted panting from the pegasus mare above. One of her hooves dropped over the side, her chin banging lightly against the edge as I peered out up at her.

"Uh, everything alright, Wildcat? Need to join Scram in sick bay, or..." She waved her hoof, spitting idly and lifting herself up back onto her bunk. Don't tell me we're going to be delayed even further, now...

"N-negative, Captain. Just a little sea-urp... sea-sick, is all. Guh... I hate boats." She rolled herself over on the upper bunk, the fabric shaking as she shuddered lightly. I slid back under my own covers, looking out at the small window on the wall. Lightning flashed across the sea, illuminating the room for a flash second - damn mass rogue storms.

"At ease, soldier. We'll be back home soon." The dull sound of thunder met the ship, it shifting to the side again and then settling. The dull hum of the engines resonated in the small chamber, the errant sound of somepony tending to something across the ship mixing in with it every now and again. Why, of all things, why did this have to pop into my mind. "Wildcat? Ah... about that night..."

There was a shuffling above, followed by quite a resounding snore from the mouth of the seasick mare. Well, damn, that was news for me. I stared up at the bottom of the bunk for a few moments in disbelief, letting off a sigh and keeping my yap shut. I shouldn't bring it up; I shouldn't worry over it. It was just a mistake.

Wildcat was just seasick.