Vice Admiral Winslow read the latest report from his subordinates. His son, one Seaman Brad Stepanek, had been causing problems yet again – he refused to accept any authority, refused to pull his own weight, and simply didn’t seem to respect his superiors. Winslow knew his son; he knew that Brad had a sense of honour, that he wouldn’t do anything to put his fellow man in jeopardy. What Brad needed was to be shown how to direct that honour into respect and discipline. But how could Winslow get through to him?
Also, there was Lieutenant Commander Tom Dodge, Executive Officer of the attack submarine USS Orlando. The man was a tactical genius, but he too had self-discipline issues. And then of course there was the Murmansk brushing incident – the man’s skills saved his career, but Murmansk certainly reduced his promotion prospects. If Winslow could find a way to improve Dodge’s character, then perhaps he could finally give Dodge the promotion he so richly deserves. But again, how?
And then there were these other sailors – Pascal, Lake, Jackson, Sylvesterson, they all showed promise, but they all had their own problems too. What to do, what to do.
The individual Winslow was most concerned about, however, was Rear Admiral Graham. The man had never lost a war game, and he had become arrogant as a result, sure that he knew best, that his way was the right way. He could do with a lesson in humility before he gets that promotion he’s up for, because the last thing the United States Navy needs is a man who refuses to understand that sometimes, you are wrong, mistaken or just plain unlucky.
With a knock on the door, Winslow’s assistant entered the office and slipped a few documents into the in tray. Taking them up, Winslow skimmed the reports and observed the photos. They were satellite reconnaissance photos of the harbour of Vladivostok, Russia’s major Pacific Ocean port city. The photos and reports suggested that Russia was selling off its submarines to make some desperately needed money after the collapse of the old Soviet regime. While Winslow had no problem with the idea of his nation’s biggest rival reducing its own military capability, he wished the Russians were a little pickier about who bought the submarines. Iran, Iraq, and Libya, terrorist hotspots all, and they had all shown interest in purchasing some of the submersible warships. The last thing America needed was some terrorist getting a hold of a submarine and bringing it into a civilian harbour, sinking shipping, or even smuggling some kind of weapon of mass destruction into the country.
Winslow considered that thought for a moment. If a submarine was under terrorist control, then it would most likely not be operating within the usual rules that the worlds civilised nations followed. However, the United States Navy was trained to fight an opponent that was following those rules of war. Could the Navy catch and detain or destroy a target like a renegade submarine before the unthinkable happened? Winslow frowned, as he came to an unwelcome conclusion: he didn’t know either way.
Reconsidering his earlier thoughts about the problematic sailors under his command, Winslow thought he might be able to solve two problems at once. He would, however, need a little help. Fortunately, he knew a young woman generous enough to provide that help. Chuckling to himself as he put pen to paper, Winslow thought that perhaps woman wasn’t quite the right word...
Rarity hummed quietly to herself as she designed a dress for the next season. Something simple and subdued, she thought. But something that will still turn heads. Rarity felt that she could tread the fine line between subtle and striking if she took proper care. Care that would be easier to take without all this knocking!
Tracking down the sound, Rarity realised she had been ignoring the mail mare. Taking her letters, she offered an apology, muttering something about being in the zone. She trailed off as she saw the writing on one of the envelopes. It was not neat enough to have been written by a magically suspended quill, yet it was far too neat to have been written by a quill held in a pony’s teeth. Rarity had seen this writing style only once before, when she made an unusual friend. Opening the letter with a telekinetic tear, Rarity began to read.
It seemed hew friend needed a little help in teaching some of his co-workers a lesson or two. Rarity knew just the ponies to teach such a lesson, but the arrangements to make it happen would be complex. Still, a friend needed help, and Rarity would always help a friend in need. Rarity headed to her basement to collect the things she would need to get the ‘students’ to Ponyville.
Going over the details of the letter, Rarity considered which of her friends would be best suited to teaching the required lesson to each new student. She thought Rainbow Dash would be ideal for one of them, and certainly Applejack for another. Pinkie Pie would excel at the third one, Fluttershy would probably be best for the fourth, and Twilight Sparkle would be perfect for the last two.
Rarity considered asking Twilight for some help with setting up the apparatus, but decided against it – Rarity didn’t have much experience at magic beyond her telekinesis and gem-finding spell, and she felt she could use the magical practice that this sort of spell would give her. She would, however, see if Twilight would lend her a book or two on interdimensional magic. And perhaps a transformational spell would be a good idea too; Rarity remembered all too well her reaction upon seeing the ape-like creature for the first time, it simply wouldn’t do to frighten her friends like that.
Her decision made and her tools assembled, Rarity left her boutique and set off into the town to make the necessary arrangements. With any luck, she would be able to keep her sister’s club out of events this time around...
