Barlent

Captain Barlent entered the telegraph shack, removing his dark grey officer's cap. For a rat, Barlent was rather on the tall side, standing a few inches over most of his crew. Unfortunately, that was the only positive trait he had going for him; his brown fur was in ailing condition, his whiskers were bent, a part of his left ear had been lost, and so had the last quarter of his tail. All I need now is a hook hand and a peg leg to look the most fitting in my line of work, thought Barlent, with a slight smile. But he subdued it the moment his eyes met with the rats in the room. This was no time for fooleries.

“Welcome, Captain.” said the commander of the telegraph outpost, standing up and saluting from his tiny desk. Barlent saluted back halfheartedly. The heat of the tropics sapped his energy. Such was the cost of service, though. “I take it you're not just stopping by for repairs, sir?”

“Correct.” Barlent told the commander, folding his arms behind his back. “We've been at sea for two months.” Their last stop to replenish our stores and release prisoners had been in Hleowstede, a griffon colony just above the northern tropics. “What news from Hivald?”

“Hmm... Just a moment, sir.” The commander went over to a cabinet, and shuffled through the reports within. “Do you want the short version, or long?”

“Short, if you'd please.”

“The situation at home remains unchanged since you left port.” said the commander, looking apologetic.

“Ah...” Barlent frowned. Everything had been going so right, until the Equestrian embargo, and the meddling of the zebras. But nothing ever remained right for long, as history showed him.

“However, we have received new mission orders for you.” The commander handed over a folder. “Our instructions were to give you this as soon as you arrived.”

“Thank you, commander.” Barlent said, putting back on his cap. “I'll be with my ship.” He left the little shack, following the covered cable down to the shore of the atoll. It slipped into the ocean, and hundreds of miles away, emerged again on the continent. RHS Sable, their three-masted windjammer, was propped up just above the high tide line. The bare nature of this atoll made the equatorial sun even worse than usual; his crew had removed the sails from their temporarily-beached vessel and stretched them between the gunwales and the sand as they scrubbed the parasites off the Sable's hull. Even her cargo had been piled up on the shore, the loot of a dozen merchant ships they'd come across in their five-month mission.

“Looks like they had something for you, sir.” said Major Torner, his executive officer who had been waiting outside the telegraph shack. Torner was more of an average-sized rat, grey furred like many of those from his tribe.

“New orders.” Barlent replied, opening the folder. He inhaled sharply, not quite believing what he saw at the top of the paper. “Direct from the Tetrarchy itself, rather than the Admiral...” That was certainly something.

“What could the Tetrarchs possibly want with lowly raiders like us?” wondered Torner. Barlent read on in silence.

“We're to sail north, and detain any ship leaving the isle of Saint Garnet.” the Captain said grimly.

“Saint Garnet?” Torner asked, sounding dismayed. “That's a part of the Equestrian Crown... We're not at war with them too, now, are we?”

“No, we aren't. We will be when this is through, I'll wager. Intelligence reports that there is going to be a certain Doctor Caballeron leaving the isle within a week. We're to bring him back to the homeland, alive. Use whatever means necessary to acquire him, no matter the cost.” Barlent flicked his tail, furrowing his brow. “Assisting us will be the privateer barque Adventurer and the auxiliary cruiser Alarm. And that's it. There's nothing else here but the signature of all four Tetrarchs.”

“Privateers...” Torner snorted, and spat on the sand. “I know of Adventurer's exploits, they're a wild bunch; tribeless outcasts and exiles. They're the kind who give the rest of us a bad reputation.”

“Please, Torner, we're rats. That's our lot in life. What does it matter if our reputation in the eyes of outsiders drops a little further?” Barlent stroked his whiskers, and changed the subject. “Have you ever heard of this Caballeron before? His name stirs my memory, but...”

“Caballeron? Well, he's probably an Equestrian.” The captain raised an eyebrow. “Obviously he is, of course. And perhaps dangerous one at that, I imagine, if the Tetrarchs are sending three raiders to find him.” Torner too frowned.

“Perhaps so...” said Barlent. “But as long as we don't encounter the Princess's fleet, we should come out of this fine. We have an experienced and well-disciplined crew, a swift ship, and as always, the element of surprise. If I'm worried about anyone, it'd be those privateers, and green sailors on Alarm. Equestria has been at peace so long they probably don't know the difference between pirate and privateer, and would hang the crew of Adventurer. Not that anything of value would be lost. As for Alarm... I know her captain, he's a good rat, but it's his crew who are likely to make a mistake.”

“And in such a delicate situation as boarding a neutral ship to find a foreign national to abduct...” The major sighed. “I don't see that going well, Captain. For all our sake's, let's hope it's us who finds this pony first. Even if it is, this is still a bad idea on a supremely grand scale.” Barlent nodded along. It was a moment before Torner spoke again. “What's our quarrel with this Caballeron, though? Is this because of the embargo?”

“All I know is what I read to you. The Tetrarchs want him in their hands, and it's our job to get him. It's not our job to question orders.” stated Captain Barlent, closing the folder and tucking it in his coat. “We have two days to get Sable fixed up, and then we're sailing for Saint Garnet. We'll have this Caballeron, even if we have to bring Equestria into the war against us too.”

Torner sighed, looking helplessly to the north.

“Hail Hivald.” he said.

Author's Note

The chase begins, and so does our story. John Hood writes a romance, and a crack shipping at that, too. Should be interesting to see how this goes...

This is my entry to the Straight Shipping Group's Romance Amidst Adversity contest. May Allah, most gracious and most merciful Lord of the Worlds, strike down those intolerant homophobic bigots.
Edit: Allah provides for the faithful, we have won!

Big shout-out to Pigeonsmall, who not only gave me the original idea to do this, but who has since supplied many more ideas and solutions to plot-holes that have found their way into the plot.