West of where the Blue Road met the ocean the HUS Serene made its slow melancholy journey south. From his seat on the bridge First Officer Ivan looked over his charge.

By no means was the vessel of poor make, in fact the vessel was in excellent condition,its bore the grey seen only on a newly repainted craft, its hull resonated with the purr of well maintained engine, the turrets panned from side to side with near absolute silence as the ship practically glided across the waves, truly this was a ship worthy of open sea, and engine of war that was destined to be part of the first Hooviet invasion fleet, and what was it used for?

Prisoner transport.

The buck tried his best not to throw his cup at the nearest window, the Serene 700 tonnes of destructive capability and the Council decided to use it for prisoner transport. He was trained in warfare, when the time came that the Hooviet Union reclaimed East Roamanum from the Tsaran Theocracy he would be there, supporting and escorting the great feats of Hooviet engineering that was their navy as their aerial counterparts rained fire and death down upon their enemies. Not. Prisoner. Transport.

Not to even mention that the Serene was a frigate, a frigate altered for troop transport but a frigate none the less. It was supposed to be hunting submarines, escorting destroyers patrolling open water, not this.

Yes, the cargo was sensitive, yes the cargo needed to be as heavily guarded as possible and yes Germane wanted these particular deer as soon as possible but that did not explain why they would send something so heavily armed into allied waters, what could the Council have possibly expected to happen? There was nothing out here that could possibly pose a threat to them.

Soon enough one of the technicians asked for his attention, a nearby ship had just shown up on radar, something of several times the size to the Serene and probably just as heavily armed, drifting under the power of the sea alone. It wasn’t giving out any standard means of identification, no radio chatter, no emblem or banner, nothing. Until proven otherwise Ivan was under protocol to treat it as hostile. He gave the order to establish contact.

“Attention unidentified vessel, this is the the HUS Serene, you are travelling through waters in the possession of the Hooviet Union, please respond and state your business.” No response. “I repeat, this is the HUS Serene, please state your purpose immediately.” Still no response.

They continued to drift closer to the ship, with each second seeing more and more wrong with it. The freighter looked as if it hadn’t seen maintenance since the Secession War, the rudders were in tatters, the paint was faded in the few areas it hadn’t been completely burned away, and Ivan swore that he saw a hole where half of the bridge should have been. From the looks of it, and the smoke trailing off it and the large haulage crates floating in the water, the ship must have been attacked recently.

The technician again spoke into the microphone, “Attention unidentified vessel, you have twelve seconds to respond or we will open fi-” he was rewarded for his efforts with a crackle of static.

“Help…”

“Unidentified vessel, please clarify your situation.”

“Help…”

“Unidentified vessel, what attacked you?”

The transmission crackled an petered out for a moment before crackling back to life.

“Hu-Hu-Hunt-” The transmission cut out, followed by the bridge of the freighter bursting into a radiant star of fire and twisted metal falling like hail into the ocean. Immediately and without delay Ivan rushed to the nearest free microphone and accessed the loudspeakers.

“Attention all security personnel, you are required on the deck to prepare for immediate boarding!”

“But sir-”

“Their job is to guard the cargo, who or whatever is on that ship poses a threat to the cargo, they will, board that ship, they will find and deal with whatever they find and we will all continue on this absolutely banal task!” His rant complete, Ivan turned away and returned to his seat to catch his breath.

Silent.

That was the only word that could properly describe the ship.

Silent.

The bridge was burning, rubble was falling into the sea, and ropes snapped under the strain of their loads shifting towards the sea.

All this and the ship was still silent.

Past a certain distance weather administration all but ceased, and the many clouds capitalised on this, collecting into a great shifting mass blocking out any and all of the peaceful glow of the moon.

The elk guards moved slowly and with caution, with only their gun mounted flashlights to protect them from the clutching shadows.

With each step they took, every room they searched it became clearer and clearer that whatever had caused this was anything other than normal.

Gashes as thick as their barrels marked the walls, pillars of smoke rose in great snaking columns rising up to the skies with an almost panicked energy and bullet holes scattered throughout told the story of a ship whose crew met a sudden and violent end. Or at least that is what they had assumed. Pirates had never been spotted in the area, they prefered the coasts of Zebrafrica, New Griffonstone had never had the highest opinion of the Union and they did have the weaponry to do something like this. But they wouldn’t just attack a Germane freighter for no reason , especially not in this political climate. As more and more time passed more and more questions piled up, and on top of the list was the question that left them ill at ease.

Where were the bodies?

They weren’t in the water, there wasn’t any sign of a pyre of any kind, no blood marking the wall where bullets must have met flesh. There wasn’t even one in the bridge where they were certain they would at least find whoever had sent the message or at least, what was left of him.

Again they wondered:

Where were the bodies?

They soon found out.

Gone, all of them were gone.

No one was even sure what happened, they just vanished from tracking, one by one.

Why did they have to move these damn prisoners? How could they possibly be worth the danger?

Ivan smashed his hoof against the table.
“Check again!”

“Sir. They’re. Gone.” This had been going on for the last ten minutes, Ivan would not be known as the buck who sent his entire security detail to their deaths, even if it meant sending the crew on board to find them.

“What could they possibly want?” he asked himself as he slowly drooped his head into his hooves, this was too much, this wasn’t what they signed up for, he had come for glory, for the good of the nation. Not this. “Is it the prisoners? Is that what they want? Well to hell with the prisoners! They can have them!”

“Oh, how sweet of you.” the air around them shimmered, parting to reveal a group of ponies, some garbed in armour with guns pointed their way, others wore black robes with red around their edges with pendants around their necks and fires dancing around their hooves. But most attention grabbing of all was their sigil. A burning blade. “Sadly, our orders are to kill you, I hope that isn’t too much of a bother.” Melody lined up her rifle, “It’s just the way things are.”

The crew didn’t stand a chance.

Author's Note

"To hunt the beast, the heretic and the enemies of our nation, to strike down all who would oppose the holy word of Tsara, that is the purpose of our order.
-First Huntress Storm Front, first head of the Tsaran Hunters

Not the longest of updates but the only way I can make this longer would be tacking on parts of chapter 5.