“Say that again, sonny boy.”
“Like is said Grandpa, they’re starting work on a new Harmony. A modern Starlight class dreadnought, with all the trimmings!”
Petty Officer Second Class (Retired) Iron Hooves stared at his grandson with a gimlet eye. Old age had worn the mountain of an earth pony down to wrinkly skin and frail bones, but there was still a core of stone to the elderly stallion. Sure, his hooves shook a bit more than they once did, and he was a bit blind in his left eye. But his mind was still sharp, and his voice had barely a quaver to it as he spoke.
“You pulling my hoof, boy?” He grumbled.
The young colt just rolled his eyes.
“Of course not Grandpa! Why would I do that?” He asked with tolerant exasperation.
“Hmmmmm. Is that so.” Leaning back in his chair, he brought a hoof to his wrinkly chin. After a few moments of consideration his eyes shifted to the fireplace mantle. More specifically, to the glass vial resting atop it. Nodding decisively he turned back to his grandson.
“Sharp Eye, do an old stallion a favor and bring me a quill and some paper.” A small smile crossed his lips. “I’ve got some letters to write.”
Seapony Iron Hooves was resting against the side of his bolt thrower and staring out past the railing of the HMS Harmony, taking in the unusual sight of a half dozen Sunshine Class Dreadnoughts, the heart of Sixth Fleet, hovering in the air above Blue Pearl Oasis.
Below his airship was the oasis itself, one of the few permanent bodies of water in the Great Desert, surrounded by a small city and military base. Before him was a vast expanse of shifting sands and rocky outcroppings, with the mountains of the East Gryphon Empire barely visible in the distance. And above was the deep blue desert sky, broken up by a few high flying clouds, likely the creation of the Pegasus Support Squad expected to arrive that afternoon.
Lieutenant Swift Sword was halfway across the deck, making his rounds and inspections. Iron Hooves wasn’t worried. He and his squad had their position and personal kit polished and ship shape. Sloppy, slovenly ponies didn’t get illustrious postings like the Harmony.
There was a sense of calm and relief among the crew. The East Gryphon Empire had been getting more and more belligerent lately, which was why Sixth Fleet had been forward deployed the Pearl a few weeks ago. Tensions between the Empire and Equestria had been growing higher and higher. There were even rumors that war might break out! It was practically unthinkable! Ponies hadn’t been involved in a proper war since the Waring Tribes period, before the rule of the Alicorn Sisters, before even Discord! For all they trained and prepared war was a thing known only in myth and legend.
So it had been an immense relief when the Emperor had decided to send diplomats to Canterlot. Iron had no doubt that Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, in their infinite wisdom and kindness, would find a way to calm things down. They had centuries of experience at this sort of thing after all.
Lost I thought, he never noticed the Gryhons diving out of the cloud formation far above. His first sign that anything was amiss was a cry of “Battlestations! Battlestations! Gryphons off the Starboard Bow!”
“Dad? Dad, wake up.” The gentle shaking brought Iron Hooves from his short nap with a start.
“Huh? What? Who’s there?” He mumbled, sitting up straight in his rocking chair. It took his old eyes a moment to focus on the pony before him. His daughter’s smiling visage calmed his suddenly racing heart.
“Darn it Heartstone, don’t go sneaking up on an old stallion like that.” He groused, holding a hoof over his chest. His daughter just smiled and shook her head slightly, before placing an envelope on his lap.
“I’m sorry to wake you dad. But another letter arrived for you. I thought you’d want to see it.”
“Oh. Thank you sweetie.” A shaky hoof made quick work of the envelope. Old eyes took a bit longer to handle the contents. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he reached the end of the letter.
“Bad news Dad?”
“Yeah. It’s a letter from Clear Sight’s son. Seems he won’t be making it next week.” He frowned slightly at the letter before him. “Turns out the poor old bastard passed away almost a month ago.”
Hearstone patted her father on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that dad. I remember you talking about him years ago. You two were pretty close, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, we were real close. Served on the same crew for a while.” He gave a rough chuckle, a grim tone to his words.
“Even shared a room one time.”
The battle had been raging for ten or fifteen minutes, though it felt like an eternity. The sky was filled with smoke and gryphons. Only a hoofull of pegasi were in air. The Empire had picked the perfect time to strike; many of the base’s pegasi were out on a water run. And anypony who tried to take to the air was quickly swamped by gryphons before they could build up enough speed and altitude to meet them on equal terms.
Which left the defense of the fleet to the ground pounders and gunners aboard the airships. Gunners such as himself.
Iron Hoove’s cutie mark was a pair of interlocked hooves made of gray iron. It represented the strength and steadiness of his grip. A useful talent when one was called upon to maneuver the heavy weapons mount and keep it on target.
Stubby steel crossbow bolts poured out of his weapon like a stream of sharpened steel. And where his stream and a target intersected, gryphons died. Beside him the rest of his gun crew worked feverishly, loading more bolts into the firing mechanism, keeping the clockwork and springs tensioned, or using unicorn magic to lighten the mount for easier movement.
With a hard shove Iron swung his bolt thrower to the left, and a pack of three gryphons fell from the sky.
“Good shooting Iron! Six more incoming at 3 o’clock high!” Clear Sight called, the spotter pointing with his hoof.
Standing side by side, both ponies were focused on the mass of gryphons bearing down on them. Neither of them saw the squadron diving towards the Port side of the ship. They didn’t see them weave through the defensive fire, dodging the arcano-disrupter blasts and ignoring the bolt throwers.
Didn’t see the glowing potion bottles in their claws drop free as they broke off their dives.
Didn’t see the magical flames eating through the heavy decking before reaching one of the crystal powder magazines.
Iron Hooves and Clear Sight didn’t see any of that. They only felt the aftermath. The force of the blast. The heat of the flames. And then merciful blackness as they were blasted free of the Harmony, and of consciousness. It was pure luck that there had been a flight of pegasi in place to snag them as they fell.
It was a day and a half later when Iron Hooves awoke in the triage center of Pearl Hospital. He had three broken ribs, severe burns along one side, a major concussion…
And no ship and duty station to return to.
Laying beside him in the cramped triage center was Clear Sight. The only other survivor of the Starboard Gun Crew Four.
Outside the hospital window, he could still see smoke curling up towards the sky.
Iron Hooves stared at himself in the mirror. Of his once vibrant blue hair there were only a few strands left standing against the onslaught of gray. His coat was faring a bit better, but only because it was closer to gray to start with. Regardless, he’d done all that could be done with comb and hoof to make himself presentable. At least his canvas cap and uniform went a long way towards covering up any imperfections in the pony wearing them.
He’d have been prouder of still fitting into his old uniform if it didn’t hang off of him quite so much. Once upon a time he’d had the musculature to properly fill it out. But time wears down even the tallest mountains.
At least he managed to keep his ‘fruit salad’ and ‘scrambled eggs’ straight and level. The lines of rank insignia, awards, and medals were rather impressive. Iron had spent quite a few years in the service, and none of them were what could be called ‘idle.’ The number of combat citations and battle awards made that perfectly clear.
“You ready to head out Grandpa?” Sharp Eye nosed into the bathroom, then gave a low whistle. “Looking pretty sharp there, Gramps!”
Iron glanced back at his grandson. He wasn’t the only one who’d dressed up this afternoon. The stallion, barely past colthood to Iron’s eye, was decked out in his own (properly fitting) uniform. But whereas his was that of a Petty Officer, Sharp Eye’s was an Ensign.
“Not looking too bad yourself there sonny. Even if you are aiming to be one of them lazy officers.” His smirk and playful tone took all of the bite out of his words, and Sharp rolled his eyes.
“You’re just jealous that I’m just a kid and I already out rank you.” He shot back. His eyes drifted down to the mass of medals and awards on his grandfather’s dress uniform, comparing them to his own mostly bare chest. “Though I suppose those lend a bit more weight to your position.”
“Bah. Damned things carry a lot of weight all right. And most of it weighs on the soul.” He prodded the young pegasus in the chest. “I pray nopony in your generation ever needs half these things pinned to their chest.”
“All right, all right Grandpa. Point taken.” Sharp raised a placating hoof. But then something else caught his eyes. The only non-regulation item his grandfather was carrying. A small glass vial hanging around his neck by a simple piece of cord.
“And what’s this, Grandpa? I’ve never seen this leave the mantle over the fireplace.”
Iron’s raised his hoof to grasp the vial, a comforting, reflexive gesture.
“It’s just some old friends, sonny. Just some old friends.” He muttered.
Despite the centuries of unity, Earth Ponies, Pegasi, and Unicorns all retained bits and pieces of their own cultures, including how they honored their dead.
Earth ponies generally preferred to be buried. No embalming or preservation spells. Simply returned to the earth and soil from which they came. Pegasi funerals usually involved cremation, and having their ashes scattered across the sky so that they might fly forever on the winds. Unicorns liked their cemeteries and mausoleums. Monuments, big or small, so that their accomplishments in life would be remembered long after their deaths.
The Harmony has been crewed by almost 1200 ponies of all three tribes. Less than 150 had survived their beloved airship’s destruction. And as Iron Hooves stared at the wreckage of the once proud warship, still smoldering almost five days later, he couldn’t help but reflect that all of the fallen had received their preferred burial in some fashion.
For the earth ponies, the fiery wreck had augured itself deep into the sand and soil when it finally came to rest. For the Pegasi, little remained of the ship and crew but ash. The heat of the fires had been enormous, especially when the rest of the magazines had let go. The ship had burned for three days. Nopony had bee able or been bothered to put it out. They were too busy rescuing the living, and saving what was salvageable.
And for the unicorns, here was a grave marker greater and more terrible than all others. The twisted steel skeleton of the Harmony’s superstructure, blackened and charred, reach up out of the glassy sands like the wings of a skeletal Pegasus reaching for the sky. The sand itself had been fused into molten glass by the heat of the fires. There could be no doubt that it was a marker that would remain for centuries.
Iron stood besides a few dozen of his fellow shipmates. A hooful of the survivors who had asked to be brought out to the crash site to pay their final respects to their brothers in arms. In the distance the sounds of salvage and military preparations were muted to a mere murmur, overwhelmed by the sound of the wind blowing through the debris.
Nopony spoke a word.
Iron grimaced at a twinge of pain along his side. Despite the magical aid, his burns weren’t fully healed. In truth he’d always bear the scars of the Harmony’s destruction, both on his heart and on his hide. Reaching into his saddle bags he withdrew a vial of pain reliever potion to deal with one of those aches.
Finishing the small bottle, Iron returned to staring out at the remains of his ship, and of his friends. His eyes were drawn back to the bottle still in his hoof, the glass reflecting in the sun. And that was when the strange, but oh so right, impulse struck him.
Walking forward past the others, Iron reached down to pick up a hooful of ash, carefully pouring it into the vial.
“What in Tartarus are you doing?” One of his shipmates hissed from behind him. Iron ignored the comment and finished filing the vial before turning around to face the rest of the group.
“This ash is all that’s left of my shipmates. I don’t know about the rest of you lot, but I aim to get some payback.” He finished recorking the bottle, holding it up in front of his face. “And I’m going to carry these ashes with me while I’m at it. So that in some small way my shipmates will be there to see those damned Gryffies get theirs.”
There was a moment of silence as the others stared at each other.
Then, one by one, each stepped forward to scoop up a hooful of ashes into some makeshift container or another.
San Flankcisco’s industrial sector wasn’t exactly a popular gathering place for senior citizens. Not during the middle of the afternoon on a workday. Or at any other time, really. And yet there they stood in front of the Naval Foundry, over thirty elderly ponies wearing their antiquated uniforms, attended to by an equal sized gaggle of children and grandchildren trying to keep an eye on their elders.
Most of whom were of the firm opinion that they had no need for such coddling, of course.
Iron just chuckled at the scene as he approached, amused by all grumpy old sailors and their overprotective offspring.
At least until Sharp View spoke up beside him.
“Are you sure you don’t want you cane Grandpa?”
“For the sixth time, no. I am fine.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes at his own overprotective grandson. He couldn't fault the boy for his concern, but for the Alicron’s sake, he’d spent his youth protecting Equestria from Gryphonic conquest! Surely his family realized he could handle a brief walk!
“Ah, Petty Officer Iron Hooves! Looking as grumpy and severe as ever I see!” Came a voice from his left.
“Lieutenant Quick Strike! Sir!” Iron turned quickly with a smile, managing a quick, almost regulation salute without falling over.
“Now now, none of that Iron. I’m retired, just like everypony else here.” The old unicorn grinned. “Besides, you’re the one who dragged us all out here, so I suppose that puts you in charge of this unruly mob.”
“If you say so, sir.” Iron shot back with a smirk. Swift just shook his head in amusement at the honorific.
“To be honest Iron, I’m surprised to managed to set this all up. How ever did you manage to get permission for a bunch like us to visit a secure military manufacturing facility?”
“Ah, well, I have a few friends in high places. You remember Captain Earnest?”
“Earnest Intent? I know of him, of course. Captain of the HMS Retribution, wasn’t he? Took command right out of the shipyard . Never had the privileged of sailing with him, mind you.”
“Well, I did. Ran one of his best gun crews. And believe it or not, the old codger is still kicking. Retired as a rear admiral in fact.” Iron smiled. “And he’s not the sort of pony to forget his crew. He was kind enough to pull a few strings for me.”
“Lucky devil. That was one hell of a fighting ship from what I heard. I seem to remember part of Captain Earnest’s commissioning speech from the newspapers. Something along the line’s of ‘This is a fighting ship, and I mean to sail into harm’s way. Anypony who has a problem with that best get off now.’” He chuckled and shook his head. “He was a quite inspiring if rather direct speaker I take it.”
The main doors to the foundry began to open before them, and the crowd of elderly sailors and their young attendants began to slowly shuffle towards the factory.
“Yeah, I suppose he was. Blunt as a hammer, but he certainly knew how to motivate his crew.” Iron chuckled. “He could really chew the scenery when he wanted to too.”
The HMS Retribution was a fine ship. Brand new and just out of the docks, she was a proper Battle Cruiser. A marriage between a Cruisers speed and a Dreadnought's firepower. The downside was she had armor more akin to a rowboat than an airship of the line.
And after the debacle at Pearl, she was one of the heaviest combatants left in the Equestrian fleet. And would remain that way for some time, depending on how well and how quickly the salvage efforts went.
She was a brand new ship, sleek and modern. Unfortunately, she also carried a brand new crew. The fleet was growing by leaps and bounds. And that meant experienced sailors were being promoted left and right, and being put in charge of the greenest of new recruits.
Which explained why Petty Officer Third Class Iron Hooves was stuck trying to instill some proper discipline into Main Gun Battery two.
One of the newbies actually had the gall to ask if it was ‘fair’ for them to be attacking lightly armed supply ships out in the Great Desert! They were a Battle Cruiser for Diarch’s sake! They were built for raiding supply lines and rear areas!
But the fresh blood didn’t understand. They hadn’t seen the elephant. They hadn’t been at Pearl. Been aboard the Harmony.
He was in the process of correcting one of his loaders stances when a whistle came over the ship’s communicator.
“Now hear this. This is the Captain speaking.” Captain Earnest’s voice came over the communication array. “We have sighed a Gryphon convoy, and are moving to engage.” His eager anticipation could be made out even over the crackly sound of the array.
“Now it has been brought to my attention that some members of my crew are… ‘concerned’… about the ‘fairness’ of attacking a lightly armed convoy...” He snorted. “So, I’m going to ask you all… What is the name of this ship?”
Silence reigned across the vessel as ponies looked at one another in puzzlement.
“Is it… The HMS Harmony? No. Is it… The HMS Friendship? No. No it’s not. How about the HMS Mercy? No, no it’s not that either.” The false cheer of his voice was clear even over the arrays. And then it was gone. Replaced with steel and fire.
“This is the HMS Retribution! We offered the Gryphons Harmony. We offered them Friendship. We offered them Mercy. And what did they do? They spit in our faces and burned them all to ash!” His voice rose as he spoke, each sentence louder and louder.
“Well now they’re going to face us! We are Retribution! We are not here to make friends with the cat-birds or to show them mercy! We are here to destroy them! You ask if it’s fair for us to attack an undefended convoy? It’s a damned sight fairer than their sneak attack on Pearl!” He growled with fiery passion.
“Now, what is the name of our ship?” He demanded.
“The Retribution.” The words were soft and muddled, but there. The entire crew muttering it under their breaths.
“I can’t hear you! What is the name of this ship?
“The Retribution!” This time there was more strength to the words. Everypony said it. A few shouted it. Iron was surprised to realize he was one on them.
“I still can’t hear you! What is the name of this ship?”
“THE RETRIBUTION!” This time the reply was a single shout from eight hundred throats, the sound reverberating throughout the ship and piercing the heavens.
”Damned straight!” Captain Earnest replied, the communicator echoing his shout across the ship. “Now man your battle stations! We have Gryffie supply lines to cut! And a cask of cider goes to whichever gun crew downs the most supply ships! Captain out!”
There was a moment of silence, and Iron could feel his heart pounding in his chest, even as his soul sang in agreement. He hardly noticed the way his hoof was curled around the bottle hanging from his neck. After a moment he shook his head and focused his attention on his gun crew.
“All right maggots! You heard the captain! We’ve got some ships to put down and a lot of Gryffies to leave hungry. So look sharp!” The grin he gave his crew was positively feral. “After all, we’re not going to let those lazy cross-eyed bums in Battery Four steal our cask of cider, are we?”
“Sir, no sir!”
“Best damned keg of cider I ever drank.” Iron muttered to himself with a smile.
He was rudely knocked from his reminiscing by two younger stallions who suddenly appeared beside him. Younger being completely relative of course. Both were old enough to be on their own pensions. Or knowing the pair, somepony else’s pension.
“Well looky here! If it isn’t...” One of the pair began,
“… Old Petty Officer Burnsides.”
Iron just groaned and pulled his hat down lower, trying to ignore his sudden new bookends. The Hooves brothers. Quick and Sticky. Twins. And proof that trouble doesn’t add, or even multiply. It’s logarithmic.
“How many times have I told you knuckleheads not to call me that?” He grumbled, turning his head first one way, then the other.
“Come on now, oh PO, our PO!” the stallion on the right began.
“You know the whole crew used to call you that!” The stallion on his left continued, poking his hide where the physical scars of the Harmony’s destruction still lingered all these years later. Though they were harder and harder to make out through all the wrinkles.
“Yes, but the rest of them only used that name behind my back.” He growled back. “Only you two idiots were dumb enough and crazy enough to call me that to my face.”
The two stallions just smiled unconcernedly.
“Aw, don’t be so grumpy, PO!”
“We have something that will put a smile on your face!”
“Smooth Hooves! Get over here!” The pair called in stereo.
A few feet away a young colt looked up from where he was busy flirting with a filly working at a nearby food stand. He quickly hurried over to the trio of old timers, though he took a moment to shoot the filly a wink.
“What’s up, uncs?” He asked as he arrived.
“Our nephew here...” Quick began
“Has something to show you.” Sticky finished, giving his nephew a nudge.
“Oh, right. Here you go.” With a small grunt, he opened one of his saddle bags and removed a chunk of rough looking metal.
Iron raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Is that?” He asked,
“A piece of the Harmony’s super structure?”
“Because if that’s the question, then the answer is...”
“Yes!” The pair chorused.
“How in Equestria did you two get permission to saw off a piece of the Harmony?” He sputtered in shock. “It’s considered sanctified grounds!”
“Well, getting permission is so overrated, PO.”
“Forgiveness is much easier to ask for.”
“Better still if you don’t get caught, so you you don’t need to ask for either.”
“Too right, brother of mine.”
Besides them, Smooth Hooves snorted and laughed.
Iron, on the other hand, face hooved.
“Diarchs help me, I can not imagine how you two troublemakers ever got assigned to the Harmony.” He groaned.
“It’s simple PO. Every ship needs an official Quartermaster, for all the official things the crew needs.”
“And an unofficial Quartermaster for all the little things the crew needs, but aren’t, ah… officially provided.”
The two just grinned at him in unison as he shook his head.
“Get, you two rapscallions! Before I bust you down the ranks so fast you’ll cause a sonic rainboom!”
The pair immediately stood ramrod straight and saluted. (Or rather, they stood as fast and straight as creaky old bones and crooked spines would let them.)
“Yes PO!” They shouted, did an about face, and marched directly into the foundry.
Behind them, Iron couldn’t help but crack a smile as he shook his head.
“Some ponies never change.”
“… And if I ever find you two lunkheads pulling off a stunt like this again, I will bust you two so far down the ranks you’ll be approaching Admiral from the other direction! Do you understand me?” Iron roared into the faces of his best (and most troublesome) loading team.
“YES PETTY OFFICER IRON HOOVES!” Came the synchronized response from the yellow furred earth pony twins. They were standing at attention, backs ramrod straight, ears folded back and eyes wide and staring straight ahead,. Their bodies were practically quivering in tension and fear.
Or at least he thought it was tension and fear. He was never sure just how much was genuine, and how much acting. Some days he was sure those two could talk a noose into loosening its own knot while it was around their necks. A talent they might need if they didn’t shape up.
On the other hand, they made a damned fine pair of loaders. A full four hooves ahead of any other team he had working the guns.
“All right you two, back to your stations! And I expect you to polish every bit of brass in the gunnery room until it shines like...”
Iron tensed as the sound of the ships annunciator cut him off. They were still a day and half out from their duty station, and the fighting was finally starting to wind down. But if they were being called to action stations, if a Gryphie task force had driven this far into the rear areas…
“Now hear this, now hear this!” The voice of Captain Bellows came over the communications array across the ship. “We have just received new orders from high command. They read as follows:”
TO: All Combat Commands
FROM: Their Majesties, The Diarchs of Equestria, Princess Luna and Princess Celestia
ORDERS: Effective immediately, all Equestrian combat forces are to cease active operations against the East Gryphon empire. Any forces actively engaged in hostilities will break contact as soon as possible. Emperor Gustav has offered his unconditional surrender, which we have accepted.
Gryphon communications being as they are, this message may not reach all opposing forces for some time. As such Equestrian forces are authorized to use force only in self defense, and commanders are instructed to use their own judgment and restraint when faced with hostile gryphons.
The war is over.
Her Highness Princess Luna
Her Highness Princess Celestia.
There was a moment of stunned silence before the Captain continued speaking.
“Our task force is dropping anchor where we stand, and awaiting further orders. I expect those orders will be to return to Pearl within the week.” There was another pause, and when the Captain continued, his voice was heavy with repressed emotion. “Mares and Gentlecolts, the fighting is over. Good job, each and every one of you. Captain Out.”
The silence lingered for a few more moments. Then came the cheers and shouts of joy. And songs. And hidden bottles of things most certainly not part of the vessel’s approved supplies. (And most likely provided by a certain pair of twins.)
“It’s over. It’s really over. All the bloodshed. The fighting, the killing, the dying.” Iron muttered to himself, lost in his own little world. His hoof reached up to grasp the vial hanging from his neck without conscious thought. “We made it, guys. We made it.” He murmured.
Had he done enough? Had he shed enough blood to avenge his fallen brothers and sisters? To protect his home and people? To quench the roaring fires of anger and rage that burned within him?
Iron didn’t have an answer to the first question. Or the second. But the last… Yes, yes enough blood had been spilled. More than enough. Too much.
When the war began, his heart and soul had been set ablaze with fire, rage, and retribution. Much as the Harmony’s magazines had been set ablaze. And just as destructive. But no rage could last forever. Especially not in the face of so much bloodshed and loss. On both sides. His anger had burned down to mere embers long ago. All that had been left behind was his sense of duty and loyalty. To his nation, to his navy, and to his brothers and sisters in arms beside him.
It was with a deep and profound sense of relief and peace that he loosened his grip on the vial and lowered his hoof to the floor.
The war was over.
The foundry was a rough, noisy place. And not very big on ceremony. There was work to be done, and the ponies employed there intended to do it. But they had been kind enough to clear an area above one of the massive ladles that would soon be used to pour the structural members for the new Harmony. And out of respect for the old warhorses, the foreman was delaying the noisiest operations for later in the afternoon.
So although the foundry was still a beehive of activity, it was a beehive courteously trying to keep the buzzing to a minimum.
All of which meant that Iron Hooves wouldn’t quite have to shout to be heard over the noise. It wasn’t as if he had that large a group to address in any case. Just a hooful of old fogeys in the front, with the youngsters taking up the rear.
And so he stood in front of the assembled ponies, his back to the bubbling ladle of red hot metal. Staring out at the sea of faces, old and young, he found it difficult to speak. He’d thought he was too old to feel fear anymore, but it turned out that nopony was too old to feel stage fright. He cleared his throat.
“Well, here we all are.” He began, coughing into his hoof. “It’s, ah, good to see all of you here together. I can’t remember the last time this many of us were all in one place...”
“That would be on the Harmony!” Somepony called out from the back with dark humor.
“Yeah, and there were a lot more of us back then too!” Came another elderly voice.
“And we were all young and good looking then too!” Called out a mare.
“Horseapples! I may be old, but I ain’t lost my memory yet! Even all those years ago you had a face like a bowl of burned oatmeal Firefly!”
“Why you…!”
By now the whole assembly was chuckling and laughing, Iron included. Stamping his hooves on the metal grate below him, he smiled, awkwardness forgotten.
“It’s good to see that most of you haven’t changed a bit. Meaning you’ve never grown up.” He growled, and another ripple of laughter flowed through the crowd. “But I asked you all to come here today for something serious.” He continued, hoof rising up to grasp the vial around his neck.
“It seems that the Admiralty, in their infinite wisdom, has finally decided to return the name Harmony to the fleet. It’s been damned near sixty five years, so I’d say it’s about time.” Heads nodded and a murmurer of agreement arose from the crowd before him. “And now here we are. Standing in front of a bunch of lifeless metal that’s going to be the bones of the new Harmony.”
Iron turned to look back at the ladle again. And when he faced the crowd once more, there was a quaver in his voice. Iron had never been much of a speech maker, but these words seemed to pour straight from his heart. They just felt right
“I guess I’ve never really put it into words, but I’ve always felt that ships have a soul. Maybe not when they’re first launched. More like… It’s something that rubs off on them, from every pony that lives and works upon them. All that sweat and blood and fur and flesh building up and sticking around. Like… Like all the little bits of dirt and grease that accumulate in the corners that no amount of swabbing or scrubbing by Seaponies can remove. “ He smiled tiredly, and there was a smattering of laughter inside the otherwise silent foundry. Unknown to Iron and unnoticed by the group, all work across the building was coming to a halt.
“I think all of that builds up to give a ship its soul. And that soul rubs back off onto the ponies that serve on her. The Harmony was one tartarus of a ship. And a lot of ponies lived and work on her over the years. And a lot of them died upon her.” He hoof tightened around the vial, squeezing it snugly before his forced himself to loosen his grip.
Holding it up in front of the audience, he let the light reflect off the glass.
“For four years I carried these ashes with me. Four long, bloody years of war. I saw a lot of terrible things over those years. We all did.” There were somber nods from the crowd now, but not a word was spoken.
“Through it all, even when I stood alone, I always felt like there were ponies beside me. Like my old shipmates from the Harmony were watching out for me. Keeping me on the straight and narrow. Keeping me from getting my fool self killed.”
He raised a leg to his eyes to wipe away a few stray tears. They were blurring his vision, making it double and quadruple. Because, for just a moment, rather than seeing a hooful of decrepit old ponies playing dressup, he saw the foundry floor filled with fresh young faces wearing familiar uniforms. A thousand young stallions and mares smiling kindly up at him, unchanged from that fateful day at Pearl.
When he dried his eyes, they were gone.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed on.
“Well, I’m old now. We all are. Our time has come and gone. There’s a new generation now that needs watching over.” He nodded at his Grandson, standing in the back of the crowd with all the other youngsters, listening with rapt attention. “And I’m hoping that a bit of the old Harmony will carry over into the new. To watch over them.”
Turning around, he took a few careful steps to the edge of the platform, looking down into mass of molten metal below. With a grunt of effort he used his teeth to remove the vial’s cork, exposing it’s contents to the air for the first time in over sixty five years.
Somehow it still smelled just like he remembered on that long ago day.
“Earth ponies want to return from whence they came, pegasi want to fly forever, and unicorns want to be remembered. May all three tribes get their wishes as part of this ship.”
And with those words, he turned the vial over, allowing the ash and debris to fall into the furnace below. Despite the updraft the heat should have created, the flakes fell straight down into the metal, as if carrying a weight far heavier than simple carbon.
Iron stepped aside. And one by one a silent procession followed, each old sailor stepping up to the edge, saying a few quiet words, and dumping their container of ashes into the steel below.
It was less than an hour later when Iron Hooves staggered out of the foundry. He wasn’t ashamed to be leaning against his grandson for support. He felt tired. Drained. And yet, at the same time, lighter than he’d felt in ages. It was a good feeling. And maybe relying on the next generation a bit more wouldn’t be so bad either.
“That was… That was really impressive Grandpa. Really… I don’t know.. moving..” The note of awe in his grandson’s voice was, in Iron’s opinion, horribly misplaced.
“It was nothing sonny. I just spoke the truth, as it came to me. It doesn’t really mean anything.” He waved a hoof dismissively.
“I don’t know about that Gramps. A lot of ponies there heard you talking. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the whole place. Ponies are going to remember it.”
“Bah. Who listens to a bunch of old farts like us these days? No one. This was just something I felt we old timers had to do. I guarantee you, twenty years from now, nopony will remember a thing about it.”
“If you say so grandpa.”
“I do. Now come on. We old fogeys are all meeting up at The Prancing Pony for a few drinks and a bit of reminiscing. And I’m sure all the other younglings babysitting us old stallions and mares will be coming along. “ Iron smiled and nudged his grandson. “Including that yellow filly you’ve been keeping a weather eye on all afternoon.”
The blush that covered Sharp Eye’s face let him know he’d scored a direct hit.
“Grandpa!”
“Heh heh. Yep. Still got it.”
1122 Years Later (1001 Celestial Calendar)
“And here your Highness, you can see how we’ve automated the metal pouring process. This has reduced costs and injuries by eighty percent!”
Princess Luna sighed and did her best to feign interest in the tour she was being given. She would freely admit that the arrangement was impressive. Most everything in the foundry was automated and remote controlled from the glass enclosed control center she stood within. It was fascinating in its own way, but it was simply too far removed from her experience and memories.
There were no masses of ponies with ladles. No pegasi operating giant bellows. No cauldrons of white hot metal being carefully tended to by hoof and wing and horn. There was simply no life in this place.
When she’s selected the naval shipyards for her visit, she had hoped to find something familiar. Some touchstone she could anchor herself with in this strange, foreign age.
Alas, it seemed that it was not to be…
“Foreman, what, pray tell, is going on there?”
The foreman, an earth pony by the name of Timely Delivery, squinted and followed the princesses’ silver clad hoof, glancing out across the foundry floor. There, standing on one of the catwalks above a ladle of molten metal, was a small party of ponies. Most of them in uniform, though several of them quite old. Words were spoken, inaudible over the din and through the glass, but clearly solemn and meaningful. Then, as they watched, a small wooden box changed hooves. With great care and deliberation one of the older ponies opened it, pouring the contents into the molten steel below.
Task complete, the small ceremony broke up, with the younger ponies in uniform respectfully escorting their elders back along the catwalk.
“Oh, that. That’s just an old tradition, your Highness. It goes back, well, nopony really remembers when it goes back to.” Timely Delivery smiled a bit nervously, embarrassed to show his own ignorance before the princess.
“Tell me of it.” Luna softly insisted, her eyes still on the ponies on the other side of the glass.
“Well, whenever an airship is retired or… lost or destroyed… a few pieces of it are salvaged. If at all possible. Then they’re thrown into the metal when they forge the structure for the next ship of the line.” He smiled to himself a bit. “The old timers say it’s to carry the soul of the ship and it’s crew into the next generation. To help watch over them in battle.” He finished.
Beside him the Princess remained silent, eyes still lingering on the production floor and the ladle of molten steel.
“Not that we see much fighting these days, thank the Maker!” Timely hurriedly added, taking the Princess’s silence as censure. “These days most of the pieces are salvaged when an airship is sent to the breakers for scrap. The crews still insist on the ceremony mind you. Claim it’s good luck. Especially if the crew of the last ship of the same name is there to perform the ceremony. It’s a bit like passing the torch from one crew to the next, you see.” Timely chuckled nervously as the silence continued.
“You, ah, you know how silly and superstitious sailors can be your Highness...” He began once again, nervously trying to fill the void, and terrified that he’d done something to offend the princess. At least until she turned to face him.
“Thou says that nopony remembers the origin of this tradition?” She asked. A small, but brilliantly earnest smile graced her lips, and Timely Delivery would almost swear he saw tears in the corners of her eyes.
“That, that’s correct, your Majesty.” He stuttered, surprised by her sudden transformation.
“Well then, We shall enlighten thee. Sit down, Timely Delivery, and thou shall hear the tale of the HMS Harmony, and the start of the Great Gryphon War...”
Author's Note
This story was originally written for the March 2017 Write-Off Event: Rising From the Ashes. I had planned to let it hang around until December, figuring that would be the most appropriate time to post it. I belatedly realized that Memorial Day would be an even more appropriate time to release it.
As such I had to rush through editing it and making a few additions and modifications. Meaning that I’m certain it’s still filled with egregious typos and mistakes. I apologize for the lack of polish, and hope it doesn’t cause too much trouble for the readers. 
