Chapters FEBRUARY 2, 1937
NORTH PACIFIC OCEAN
10:43AM
ABOARD THE FOOD SUPPLY SHIP MAMIYA MARU
Captain Hoshino Masatsugu sat on his desk in his quarters, fumbling uselessly with a pencil. Another routine resupply mission to that giant insult of an island, Midway. They weren't resupplying it, of course, just picking up some assorted goods and dropping off an ill sailor. Why the Americans worked with them, he couldn't guess. Politics, maybe, but he was still a beginner in that field. Perhaps that's why he was stuck in this glorified restaurant, ordering around chefs and what amounted to stablehands. Perhaps he'd be moved to China soon, at least he could make some sort of name for himself there.
He shook his head, sighing. It wasn't a good habit to hate the lot your superiors gave you, even one as demeaning as this. When he joined the navy all those years ago, he dreamt of those gargantuan dreadnaughts, or even aircraft carriers. Nonetheless, he fulfilled a vital role, and did it to the best of his ability. That train of thought broke with a crash as the door swung open, revealing a soaking radioman, his black uniform disheveled. He bowed quickly, attempting to straighten his appearance. Before he could even get a word out, the radioman started.
"I beg your forgiveness, sir, but this is urgent! All contact has been lost with the I-156, and other ships in the area are reporting loss of contact with multiple others as well!"
It took him a moment to process, as he sat stoically, looking through the young man. Contact lost? His mind tried to sooth him, saying that perhaps a storm or some such anomaly was interfering with signals, but he knew that none was forecasted. The Americans were still reeling from their stockbroker's mistakes, could they really bring themselves to do this now?
"How many are lost?", is all he could bring himself to ask.
"Just about all that were between us and Midway, sir. Military or no, we've been unable to contact merchants or the Hikawa Maru. Foreign ships that we've been able to contact are reporting the same, sir. Americans, too"
Foreign ships? He had to be misunderstanding, truly. Maybe he was misremembering the weather, and some tsunami or whatnot had ripped up a few boats. He could do something in that situation, at least.
"Has there been any reports of harsh waves, storms or anything?"
The radioman shook his head, a sort of forlorn look on his face.
"No, sir. Merchant vessels would've radioed it in before it got to that point. It's as if they just disappeared"
No storms, no known attacks, and it hit all the ships in that area? Either piracy had gained some sort of masterful tactical awareness, or he was mad. Still, the radioman stood, waiting for answers.
"Radio all ships in the area to commence a rescue operation, you're dismissed"
With a small bow and heavy footsteps, the radioman left, shutting the door. Forcing himself up, he marveled at his composure. Maybe this would be his big break, he hoped.
FEBRUARY 2, 1937
NORTH PACIFIC OCEAN
2:27PM
ABOARD THE FOOD SUPPLY SHIP MAMIYA MARU
Nothing. Not even a dark cloud, nor a bit of wood floating past greeted them as they made their way along. Hoshino couldn't pinpoint why he was so worried. No signs of attack, nor any tsunamis waiting to rip him apart like a Mongol. He shrugged, guessing that was the reason. After all, he'd been trained for both. Ships vanishing out of nowhere, with no previously reported troubles? It read like some folk story, of devious oni recounted by sailors to pass the time. But that's the situation he found himself in, for lack of other information.
His Kaigun-chūsa, subordinate commander Hitori Tada, hung over the phone, his face only briefly betraying his dread. Again and again, he'd heard the same negative transmissions. He'd prayed to the Buddha that he'd at least find one lifeboat, something to say he helped. He was a military man, sure, but he wasn't ruthless. Imperial General Headquarters had little to say besides what they'd already known, so it seemed he'd be the first to respond.
As if to spite him for his hatred of safe boredom, Hitori finally picked up something new. He tried to confirm, seemingly getting the same response back. Setting aside the phone, he looked worriedly at his captain, needing a bit of beckoning to get anything out.
"Aircraft, sir. Several light ones, heading our way."
"Probably just doing the same thing we are, no need to be worried."
Hitori shook his head, straightening himself, before continuing.
"They attempted to engage a flying boat, sir. The crew couldn't get a good visual, either, due to cloud cover. Only that they were heading this direction."
They both had good reason to be worried. Despite managing to fly planes off ships, the navy hadn't seen fit to provide them with any defenses against aerial threats. He never thought he'd ever need it. Still, there was no way he could outrun them if they were gunning for him.
"Sound general quarters, and arm the men. Get the deck guns uncovered, and their crew ready."
He'd picked Hitori for a reason. They thought alike, which eased some of his doubts.
"The Type 3's aren't made to fight aircraft, sir. All we have are high explosive and armor piercing, nothing with a fuse."
Or worsened them. Putting a firm hand on his shoulder, he attempted to give any viable reason for his orders, realistically only for himself.
"They don't know that, all they'll see is a barrage of shells flying towards them, they don't have to hit anything. We have a few machine guns, don't we? Have the men position them somewhere where they can hit them when they come past. Relay it."
Hitori nodded with a quick hai, doing as instructed. An annoying wail soon picked up, and the old deck groaned as over 200 pairs of heavy feet beat upon it. It almost convinced him it would do something. He wasn't very frightened, but he couldn't keep dismay from creeping up. Who could even be doing this? It's not like some ingrate Chinese warlord scraped together enough money for a fleet to just randomly attack people, and just about all the Westerners' ships were reporting the same confusion he was.
He'd only been in combat once, shooting at some Korean bandits stealing from a harbor a decade or so ago, when he was just a cadet. But firing a beat up Arisaka once or twice into the night wouldn't prepare you for being strafed or bombed. If only he had more time, he could run, go get an escort equipped to fight. Speaking of time...
"Hitori, exactly how long do we have until the planes arrive?"
"About 7 minutes, sir"
He groaned angrily to himself, having forgotten to ask before. Maybe politics wasn't the only reason he wasn't on some flagship.
"I need you on the wheel. If anything important comes through, the radioman will just run it back up. Put us on a different course, about 5 degrees north of our current heading. Turn her a few degrees back and forth intermittently."
He was actually facing combat. Not slapping a peasant or petty criminal, running a drill. Someone was coming to kill him and his command, but he was going to make sure they'd have a hard time of it. He tried to steel himself, gripping the shark-skinned handle of his dirk defensively. He thought it odd how one could simultaneously be scared, yet so in control of their thoughts.
He hoped his prayers to Hachiman-sama hadn't been weak or in vain. It felt like he was going up against an army with a wooden sword, when he was no Musashi. Peering out through the windows, he enviously watched a chain of men passing the long, heavy 140mm shells up from below decks to their stations. Sure, they might die, but he'd have just as good a chance of living as them, most likely. He'd go down with the ship, or end his life if this ended in a different sort of failure. At least they could shoot at them.
"Hitori?", he asked, swallowing his pride.
"Yes, sir?"
"You were in combat once, before your time in the navy, correct?"
"In Manchukuo, sir. I was an advisor on one of the gunboats we lent them. It was just rebels and rivers there"
Of course it was. He believed in freeing Asia from the Westerners, sure, but no one could deny the Chinese weren't the best at fighting.
"How did you deal with the....restlessness...before combat?"
"You just wait it out, you can't do anything but prepare or run. And running isn't an option for us"
He grunted with a slight nod. Nothing is as simple as it sounds in combat, it seems. He wondered if they could just be shoo'd off, like an annoying fly. Maybe they didn't even have ordinance to drop on them, given that they tried to shoot down a plane. No way they could dogfight with a big torpedo slung under them. They'd just riddle the deck once or twice, then go home, hopefully.
Hopefully.
FEBRUARY 2, 1025 A. N. M.
OVER THE WESTERN COAST OF EQUESTRIA
2:03PM
Sharp Quill was ecstatic, if a bit anxious. He, just a few years ago a lowly secretary to a low-status noblepony, was going to help convert one of Equestria's most ancient enemies! Every unicorn he'd met said he'd never make it, that he was just a featherbrain with his head in the clouds. He'd show them, when he came right back with a brand-spanking new pony in tow!
Growing up, he'd always read the old tales of the wily, violent humans. How they'd rampaged across any land they came across, before the Princess' forefather's hunted them down (he lowered his eyes in respect at the mention of his monarch). Most ponies then had loved them for it, but the Princess had thought the blood spilt a stain on her own. When they'd found out humans still existed in some far-off world, she'd worked as hard as she could to cleanse their bloody ways in one opposite to them. And that's why he was here, to deliver the first humans from their dastardly ways.
They'd insisted that he'd be under guard, which he didn't quite support. How could one bring peace if they met violence with violence? But, true to bureaucracy, they wouldn't hear his reasonings. Still, seeing the large, iron-pike wielding stallions gave him some confidence. One should always be able to argue from a position of power, if necessary, he tried to tell himself.
His muzzle scrunched up at some odd, burning smell. It reminded him a bit of a campfire, but much more foul smelling. Looking around, it seems his entourage, 3 discounting himself and an attached linguist mare, had noticed it too.
"Do you think there's a settlement nearby?", he yelled over the rushing wind.
"No, we're not close enough to any land. Could be a steam ship, maybe", the officer stated.
Equestria had steam engines, at least ones big enough to move anything besides themselves, for just a few decades. It did seem probable that humans could make them, too, but how they could do much without magic discounted that possibility. One of the guards called out, pointing, and he saw something very odd.
Contrails.
"Do you think there's an airship nearby?", the young mare beside him asked.
"How could a monkey ever figure out how to fly? Get some sense, it's probably just some weather phenomenon. We're on another planet, if you somehow forgot!"
The guard was right, he had to admit. The old stories never mentioned them flying or controlling weather, beyond using slaves, and the few skeletons locked away in universities didn't have wings on them. Nevertheless, the guards diverted, following it. Perhaps it could mean land was nearby, or more likely was better than just randomly flying around all day. Not every Pegasus was a meteorologist, despite what everypony else liked to think.
They continued on, a few minutes passing with not much said. As he spotted a few blips jumping up from the water, he was glad for his wings. He certainly didn't want to find out what these oceans held. His father had worked for some time on a fishing vessel, and was in fact working on the colonization fleet. His memories of pulling up the occasional deep sea oddity with him flashed in his mind, trying to warp into something to scare him.
"You notice that droning noise, Sharp?", the mare asked
Droning noise? Actually, now that she mentioned it, he could hear a quiet sort of churning above the sound of the wind. A bit like a cotton gin, if he had to place it.
"Yeah, kinda. Might be-"
"Look alive! There's something up ahead!"
His eyes swiveled in their sockets, until he composed himself enough to follow where the guard's pike was pointing. Off in the distance, through a bit of cloud, something large flew, at least the size of a small house. He almost wet himself, and it was only by the grace of it appearing so suddenly that he did not. The burning smell got stronger, and he remembered the old stories his parents would tell him as a foal of when Equestria was at the mercy of the dragon hordes.
"C-Captain, what should we do?", he choked out to the silver-armored stallion.
"Stay high and where the clouds are thick, it might just be a dumb animal. Stay here, scatter and fly back east if it doesn't work out."
"Doesn't work out", he mumbled, feeling it's oddness. Nevertheless, he obeyed, grabbing the startled mare and taking her up into a relatively thick cloud. His father might've been proud at how he handled her, but he was in no mood to embarrass himself over breaking his bookish attitudes.
If she had any complaints, she didn't voice them as they collapsed on the cloud, trying their hardest to hide their breath. What need there was for it at this distance, he couldn't find. He watched the guard's twinkle off farther, their armor shining like dying stars. He said a silent prayer to the past Monarchs, watching agonizingly as they approached the odd, flying thing.
It didn't seem to do much for a few moments, before it shifted somewhat. The captain readied a spear, before the beast pitched down into a spiral turn.
"What's it doing?! They're gonna get hurt!", she cried.
The guard who had raised his spear fell, coat stained red. A popping noise reached his ears, and the creature dived off, too fast for most Pegasi to follow. He couldn't believe his eyes, but he knew it was true. In just a few seconds, it knocked a veteran guard out of the air, before running off at speeds the Wonderbolts would find painful. Even a dragon couldn't just kill a pony like that!
He felt himself grabbing onto the mare beside him, and he was unsure who's sake he was holding her for. The guards had scattered almost as soon as it happened, but too late for their commander. He might've still been alive afterward, but from this height...
"Quill, Tulip, are you injured?"
He heard the cloud next to him splash like a puddle, the guard trying his best to keep his composure. Tulip (he thought it odd he hadn't asked her name yet) wiggled out from under him, standing shakily.
"I-it killed him! It ju-just threw him down, like it was nothing!"
The guard seemed ready to smack her, with how obvious her statement was. Quill decided to speak up, deciding he didn't want her to be stallionhandled again.
"We're fine. Physically, at least. I-is he alright? Can we-"
The guard breathed in, his frame shaking somewhat as he released it.
"No, whatever that thing slung, it went through his head. The mission remains the same, we'll go the same direction and attempt contact."
Quill nodded, nudging Tulip to do the same. The other guard joined them soon after, and they silently took to the air once more.
What even was that thing? Do humans fear it, hunt it down for their carnivorous desires? It didn't even look like magic, just some mechanical noise and a burst of crackling, like a tree burning. No wonder humans were so tricky and violent, he thought. Anything would have to be to live in the same world as creatures like that!
All of them had their heads on a swivel, one of the guards having sheepishly taken out a pair of binoculars. They all probably wondered what might've happened if he'd just taken the few seconds necessary to study that beast before taking it on. It didn't matter now, at least.
"H-humans are violent, right? How do we know they just don't kill us like that thing did?", Tulip squeaked out, breaking the silence.
"Once we explain we're here to help them, they'll give in. If they live with those things, they'll be begging to get out of here. Just wave something white before we get up real close, they'll probably get the message", a guard said.
If only they had that much sense a few minutes ago. Both the guards dug out some of the white silk that stuffed their saddlebags, keeping their potions safe, holding it in their hooves.
Like before, he began to take in a burning stench, only that this was much more familiar. He quickly dashed to a cloud, practically bathing in it's moisture. Even if he looked cowardly, he didn't want to take chances.
"It's a ship! Coming from the west, look at that thing!"
Looking down, it was indeed a ship, and a large one at that. A giant smokestack stood on it's top, spewing smoke like a train. He couldn't spot a single sail, tied up or otherwise. Nothing on it could pass for a proper mast. Yet it weaved it's way back and forth, like it was a yacht. The guard with the binoculars smiled, nudging his comrade.
"They're down there, humans! Real, living humans!"
He flew over to the cloud they were on, wrestling away the binoculars to look for himself. Indeed, all over the deck, he could spy little bipedal figures busying themselves with whatever work humans needed to do. They mainly clustered themselves around the bow and stern, doing who knows what. Tulip had loosed up a bit, at least a bit more enthusiastic than she was moments ago.
"How're we going to manage this? Should we just fly over them, see how they react?"
The guard shook his head, trying to think.
"No, if we buzzed them, they'd take us to be hostile. Plus, I don't want to take a chance with a lucky arrow. Let's just get about a few hooves above the waves, close enough to get their attention. If they don't throw shit at us, we're good"
He chuckled a bit at his own joke, tying his silk sheet to his spearhead. It was really just this simple, then? Not to say earlier was anything close, it instead made him expect something far more treacherous. They'd just fly down, have who captained this ship bring it to the barrier, then purify them all? It almost seemed ludicrous, but here he was.
"We'll go first, you two stay behind us. Just follow our lead"
FEBRUARY 2, 1937
NORTH PACIFIC OCEAN
2:32PM
ABOARD THE FOOD SUPPLY SHIP MAMIYA MARU
"Hitori, evasive maneuvers. Are the guns up?"
"Hai, both the deck guns and machine guns are ready. Any men not needed are waiting with a rifle"
How much a 6.5mm round from a bolt action rifle would do to a plane, he didn't know. They were trained for this, at least. The ship turned even harder, but he was used to it by now. He could only wait, as before, as always. They couldn't even get anything with firepower that wasn't a joke to escort them. "Too far away, Hoshino-sama, very sorry", they all said.
Looking out the bridge's windows, he scanned the deck. Machine guns (annoyingly also given the same designations as the deck guns - Type 3's) were positioned along the ship's sides, and multitudes of men took what cover they could, if any, scanning the skies. Then, suddenly, they appeared.
For a moment, he felt death, he felt hundreds of hand hug triggers. Then nothing. The aircraft didn't move, just floating in midair. There came no droning, nor the hail of machine gun fire.
"Hitori, am I having a stroke, or are those planes hovering?"
He got no response, and looked over to see his assistant looking awestruck through his binoculars.
"Hitori!"
"S-sir, those aren't aircraft. Th-they're-"
"Senrima"
Senrima was the only thing that came to mind. The swift, winged horse of a thousand li. And here they stood, or rather hovered, in front of his ship. He should've questioned his senses, but Hitori had snuffed that avenue out before it started. Why had they chosen to visit him, of all people? Why are they even real? They just stayed there, white silk flowing from their spears like fire.
Why would they have spears? Better yet, why spears and no rider? The men on deck certainly saw them, too, as they held their fire. Looks of astonishment shook their features, and they only noises he could hear were the rumblings of the boilers and engine.
"Hitori, tell the men to hold fire"
"Hold fire, do not fire unless...attacked"
What could he even do against them? What did they desire? Food, maybe, but why visit a dirty, rusting ship in the middle of the ocean? As he asked himself questions which he never thought he'd ask himself, they began to move forward.
Grabbing Hitori by the arm, he made his way from the bridge down to the deck, pushing aside some of the stunned men. He noticed Hitori unlatching his Nambu's holster, and he did the same.
"Keep yourselves together! Snap out of it!", he yelled.
He was filled with an odd sort of happiness and dread. After all, such creatures would never visit mere men if they hadn't had something planned for them. Now that he could keep his eyes on them, they looked remarkably colorful. Shades of bright yellows, greens, and almost every other joyful color he could think of adorned their coats. They were sleek, yet strong, like a cavalryman's ride, adorned in shining gold.
They touched down by the bow gun, with eyes that shined bigger and brighter than any animal he'd seen before. One gunner bowed, and the two unadorned ones hesitantly returned it. Perhaps they were worried about the reception? As they walked further onto the deck, they became surrounded, the men not able to choose between listening to their curiosity or fear. Hoshino approached, hand near his now opened holster.
Bowing respectfully with Hitori, he introduced himself.
"I am Captain Hoshino Masatsugu of the Navy of the Greater Japanese Empire, and this is my vessel, His Imperial Japanese Majesty's Ship Mamiya, and this is my Kaigun-chūsa, Hitori Tada. It is an honor for us all to have you among us. Please, I will fulfill any requests you may have, to the best of my ability"
What came forth from their mouths was not what he had expected. A language of seemingly random noises, which bounced back upon one another. It seemed ugly, not having any rhyme or reason to it's structure, nor the elegance of Japanese. It was-
Oh, it's just English. Hitori knew it, and translated both their greetings.
"They say they come from a land called Horseia, ruled by an Empress. They come bearing gifts, if I understand their wording correctly"
"Gifts, from senrima? Are they not gifts themselves?"
Why would a horse, winged or no, exchange gifts? Would it not just want to be cared for, and would not their gift be their bodies, to be ridden?
Hitori questioned them, but it seemed he had some trouble understanding. They went back and forth, before one of the spear-bearing ones produced a bottle from his side, a viscous purple liquid inside. They pointed to it, and to themselves, as they spoke.
"Eeeto, er, Captain?"
"Hai?"
"If I understand them right, they're saying something about men being impure, and that that liquid the armored one holding fixing it, somehow"
Impure men, he knew firsthand. But that was to be fixed by meditation, and renouncing worldly pleasures. No sort of drink could cure it, despite what sake makers said. How was this to cleanse anything?
"Ask them how it cleanses men, then we'll see"
Spirits could be tricky, and not always have your best interests at hand. Or hoof, in their case. Hitori seemed flushed, as if he had heard his own son had just died in combat. His hand wrapped around his Nambu, unholstering it.
"They say it will make us senrima, sir, but they keep using an English word for horses, not senrima"
"What?", is all he could manage to respond with.
"Ponies, it's what Westerners call kouma. Little horses"
They want us to become them, kouma? To lose the perfect forms of the Japanese race, for their own? They all seemed a lot less beautiful now, much less angelic.
"Hitori, respectfully tell them we decline, but that they are welcome to share in our food and rest for the time being"
Hitori began to translate again, but was interrupted the one holding the purple fluid uncorking it, cocking his foreleg back. With a movement that would've made Musashi envious, Hitori shot it point blank, jumping back as he did so. Before he could order them to stop, holes filled the other spear-armed kouma. The other two, whinnying in fright, tried to fly off. Rifle butts ended that, quick enough.
"D-don't touch that damn purple stuff! Don't kill them!"
Callused hands ripped at their wings, and they screamed in some uncomfortable, animalistic wail as brains dripped down their bodies. The purple liquid oozed around the bodies, and he knew he was lucky that no one had been caught by it.
What has happened? What is this? No man should have to deal with this! He watched as the men skirted around the forming pool, as he stood there, pistol in hand. Had he fired the shot that killed it? No, the safety was on, wasn't it? Had they just killed a mythical creature?
Of course they had, he could even smell it! He-
Hitori put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him a little.
"Sir, your orders?"
He tried to make a sound, but none came. He could not will himself to move, to live in a world where this was real.
This was going to be long, he knew it.
FEBRUARY 3, 1937
NORTH PACIFIC OCEAN, ON COURSE TO IWO JIMA
2:06AM
ABOARD THE FOOD SUPPLY SHIP MAMIYA MARU
Hoshino's hands shook, and it took all his willpower not to fall into an anxious fit. Kouma, talking kouma? He wouldn't have doubted they existed at some point, or had just hidden themselves from humanity. Talking kouma from another world (it took lots of yelling back and forth for him to understand they meant "other world" literally, not a nether world) that want to make all humanity into kouma? He had to take some Philopon from the ship's sickbay just to not break down.
Hitori was interrogating them, having all information relayed to General Headquarters. He'd heard some snippets in his haze, of a massive pink barrier between him and Midway. It swallowed up anything which touched it. No, swallowed implies there was something left, it just destroyed it, living or no. One poor fishing crew had discovered that the hard way.
What was he going to do? He'd responded, then it just got worse. In combat, you could just maneuver, kill. Or retreat (though he'd never admit to giving that thought). Now, there was a country of murderous, mythical creatures hiding behind an invincible wall. A knock on his quarter's doors interrupted his thinking, for what seemed like the thousandth time today.
"Just come in, forgive me if I cannot bring myself to get up"
A black-uniformed sailor walked in, bowing low. The normalcy at which he did the action put off the captain, but he said nothing. He held a few sheets of paper, with lines of hastily scrawled kanji visible. He couldn't bring himself to parse his way through whatever medical terminology it was filled with, as if he had a chance of understanding it.
"A report from the ship's doctor, sir, on the nat-"
"You're the nurse, just explain it to me", the captain interrupted, not in the mood to waste time for appearance's sake.
"Sir, the purple fluid appears to change the cells of a man into those of the kouma. At least, that is what we've gained from comparing material taken from the corpses to loose hairs and fingernails, sir."
He understood next to none of that. Living things are made of cells, his primary school teacher had driven that into him, but he was lost beyond that.
"I assume we don't know why it does this?"
The sailor nodded with a mournful hai, but wasn't finished.
"It appears small amounts of radiation are released during the operation. It was enough to create blurs about 1 millimeter or so in diameter on his x-ray sheets, sir"
His grandmother had wanted him to become a doctor, and he was eternally glad he never as so much picked up a pamphlet on it. Radiation? Like the sun? Why would this even matter?
"So, whatever it's doing makes heat like the sun? Is this correct?"
"Hai, it works on the same basic premise. We presume it isn't lethal levels unless exposed for long periods, but we don't have a Geiger counter on hand to confirm, sir"
He chuckled somewhat at the absurdity of what he was hearing. A potion that worked like the sun, that turns men into horses? He's going to check in with one of those therapists from Tokyo University when he gets back, certainly.
"Has Tada gotten you anything useful from those two devils?"
The slight frustration the man showed for a moment gave him no reassurance.
"I think so, sir, but we seem to have such a different understanding of things that their knowledge is of little help without context"
At least he wasn't the only one lost in this whirlpool of intellectual nonsense. They spoke English, yes, but they might as well been a bunch of Chinese blabbering. Still, it might be interesting to hear.
"What're they saying, exactly?"
"Apparently, they have different races, just as people do. Senrima, plain ones, and something resembling a kirin. There was mention of another race, but it seems much different from the others. The last ones, along with the kirin, can cast spells or curses with their horns. They made that concoction, which works similarly to that..force...they produce naturally"
He had to chuckle a bit, just to keep himself sane as he processed what he was hearing.
"That last race, tell me about it"
"I-it seems slightly religious, sir. As the Emperor is a descendent of Jimmu, and is revered as such, so to do these things show the same respect for their Empress. If what they say is even close to true, it bears all the characteristics of the three lesser races, is extremely long-lived, and can harness a far greater amount of their supposed spells"
Not only did they want to tear away the Japanese people's divine forms, but they even had their own bastardized version of Shinto! What a world, or worlds, this was! He just had to laugh, it was insane!
"Forgive my intrusion, but I believe you should get some rest, sir"
"No, no! It's not that, it'll all be fine. How would the gods allow such a plain mockery of us all to exist for long? If war is coming with them, we'll be fine, as always. Where's the prisoners, then?"
The sailor seemed offput with worry at his demeanor, but he knew he couldn't countermand him.
"In the fridges, sir. I'd recommend covering up, they have them running at just about full power"
He expected the stables, next to shit-stained cows, but this seemed much more pleasant. Not for them, of course. Dismissing the man, he opened the chest beside his bed, slipping on his old, dingy fur coat. It more resembled a rag, but it had served his father well at Peking, and himself in the cold Kyoto winters. Hoshino wondered if he would still be angered at him choosing the navy over his own branch when news of this reached the public. It probably had, given all the civilian vessels.
Forcing himself out of his room, he half-heartedly saluted the men as he went below decks, stopping when he came to two large guards, bayonets affixed. Clearly, Hitori had just grabbed the biggest men he could find to stop any curious eyes from ignoring their work. With a slight bow, they opened the fridge doors, revealing a scene which surprised him.
Tied up next to a large cut of beef, sat, or rather slumped, the two creatures from before. They hadn't been cleaned, or at the least he doubted the dried remains of brains coating their skins were theirs. It took him a second to take it in, but it was, in fact, skin which was coated, not fur. Besides a few splotches here and there, little remained of the colorful displays from before. And there stood Hitori, too enamored to notice him.
"Hitori, how goes it?"
"Stupid little bastards, they just stopped talking after the initial bit. Won't say a damn thing about the missing ships, just 'oh, my dad works in boats, maybe he could help if you let me go!' Fucking stupid, forgive my language"
Hitori had never been like this, at least in the year or so they'd known each other. China did that, he presumed, but it was their fault for being captured alive.
"Forgiven, can you translate for me?"
"Of course, whenever you're ready"
Looking over the two, he wasn't all too sure they were ready to even udder a groan of pain.
"Can they still talk?"
"Yes, just choosing not to. I wanted to beat the soon-to-be gelding 'till he was retarded, but going that far rests on you"
Approaching the male, he bent down until he could see the little bit of steam coming from it's ragged breaths.
"Hitori, tell it to look at me"
He did so, and it slowly obeyed. It looked full of fear, but moreso dread. The type one gets when they realize they've swam out too far, and the waves are fixing to beat them down for treading upon them.
"What is your name and rank?"
It's mouth moved oddly, lips curling and squeezing in ways which looked too unnatural to ever come from it. It's words came out with more breath and tongue-rolling than Hitori's, like it wasn't meant to speak the language. Yet, it appeared to speak it just as well as any Yankee.
"It says it's name is 'Sharp Quill', sir, like a pen. Not military, I can tell it's being truthful about that"
They name themselves after objects? He thought it over for a moment, then remembered his own name meant "field of stars", and decided it wasn't very pertinent. But a civilian, if man's own designations could apply?
"Were those two with the spears the only soldiers sent with it?"
The kouma's mouth only shut tighter when Hitori translated. Even if it was a civilian, it certainly did have some spirit. If being beaten and frozen half to death did nothing, then another course was needed.
"You mentioned your father worked on a ship, correct? Did you ever sail with him?"
It smiled a bit, probably thankful that it could say something useless and not be beaten for it.
"It says they worked on a fishing boat, before his father retired"
Worked. Past-tense.
"Hitori, were you right earlier, when you said it told you that it's father works on a boat? I do not mean just in the past, but presently?"
He had some practice beyond his fists from Chosen, and he doubted this idiotic thing had any in resisting. Keep your information consistent, small, and useless. It had tried the last two, at least.
"I, eeto, I believe I was, sir"
"Tell it I know its lying"
It shook it's head weakly, before sputtering out what was probably a poor defense. Then, a thought occurred to him. They came bearing weapons, declaring they'd fix men. Not just Japanese, men. They wanted to rule over all men, and how could one do that but through war?
"Say this with absolute conviction, 'we've sunk your fleet, and taken the survivors prisoner. Give us what we want, and we'll let you look for your father'"
As Hitori spoke, the smaller kouma started interrupting. Evidently, it was trying to interfere, as Hitori shushed it with a hand on his dagger. The male one seemed angered, yelling and throwing it's chains (as much as the short length allowed) around. Hitori looked to him, smiling a bit. Clearly, he'd caught on.
"It says their "colonization fleet" isn't due for departure for awhile"
Colonization fleet? Now, this was something. If they wanted to rule, it made sense.
"That isn't what their commander said, before his wounds got to him. Perhaps they lied to you, never made any serious plans to rescue you. I've known plenty of men who'd do the same"
It whimpered, whinnied, and spat like a crying child. Was it just worn down, or were they all this dull?
"But know this, I'm not one of them. I give what I get, and I don't execute prisoners. If you tell me what you know, I can arrange for you both, this girl and you father, to be sent somewhere safe"
Wiping off it's wet face with his handkerchief, he smiled at it as warmly as his mother would him, and it returned it.
"Ask it why there is a massive pink wall in the ocean"
Hitori looked at him, dumbstruck.
"Sir, what do you mean by that?"
"I'm sane, if that's what you're thinking. Multiple ships are reporting a massive wall...thing, that just destroys whatever it touches. People included"
A brief look of fear flashed across his face for a moment, but he didn't let whatever thoughts he had show in his speech. Quill showed the opposite, with some look of contentment in his features.
"It says it's a barrier, meant to keep us out. It doesn't allow men, or their things, in, unless a pony accompanies the latter. It says it'll expand, eventually"
No wonder the little bastard is so happy, he doesn't have to worry about his own people, but the expanding part concerned him. If it just expanded, that meant...
"So they intend to beat us with it? Have it consume those they don't change?"
It rambled off something to Hitori, nodding in agreement to him.
"It's meant to break us, to force us to accept them or die. Though it worded it in a much nicer fashion"
It seemed so pleased with itself. The moment they acted kind to it, it uses it's empty confidence to taunt them with destruction. He'd heard enough from it.
"Ask the female what can be done against it"
The smaller one shirked away, as if the words hurt her. With how bruised and cold they both were, the breath blowing on her probably did. Hitori shook his head in dismay as she replied. Clearly, he'd had enough.
"They say it cannot be stopped, as their Empress is the one making it. We can't get at her, and we can't touch this thing, at least not with anything that would hurt it"
"Hitori, help me with one last thing before I dismiss you"
He gave a weak nod and a hai, letting himself slump somewhat.
"We're taking them to the deck. The male is to be executed, hopefully to make this one a bit more cooperative"
"Why not just keep them, sir? We can find other ways of extracting information"
For all his time in Manchukuo, Hitori was a bit surprising. Execution was execution, a necessary part of war and law. If he wasn't a friend, he'd have him flogged.
"They've already seen their friends shot, but that was in defense, not against a disobedient prisoner. They need to know their safety relies on their usefulness"
He obeyed, and the senrima seemed a bit giddy as they were unchained. Hitori said something, to which they nodded and followed.
"You two, bring a bucket of water and a broom to the bow"
Oohh, they knew what was going to happen. No man would be that happy about dragging things about a ship if they didn't. They did a slight bow, then walked off. The kouma bowed, too, making him chuckle a bit.
"What'd you tell them, anyway? They went from almost pissing themselves to model prisoners, as if there can ever be a good prisoner"
"I said we were going to have them sent to a prison ship to look for it's father, and give them some salmon afterwards", he said, looking down somewhat.
"You'll get used to these things, sometimes you just have to get yourself dirty to get anything done. I'm surprised the Chinese didn't teach you that, the Chosen made sure we learned"
"They did, sir, but I could never stomach it"
"But you did it, either way. Sometimes, one has to bear what seems unbearable, until it's enjoyable"
If that touched him in anyway, he didn't show it.
"Whenever we'd do executions, I was...well, can I admit something to you in confidence that you'll keep it to yourself?"
What exactly did Hitori have to admit? He was a good, loyal Shinto son. Nevertheless, he obliged.
"When we had to execute bandits, I'd always aim high. If there was a situation where it'd be obvious I wasn't aiming for them, I'd just take on other jobs no one liked, or got sick if I couldn't trade the duty. I think they eventually figured it out, and just started assigning me those duties outright. I don't care about beating them, but to just end a defenseless life is something I can't stomach"
That made him stop for a moment, the kouma behind him whinnying as it's tender skin bumped into his leg. Hitori, a coward? No, no, nothing Hitori had done before had marked him as a coward. He knew he was being hypocritical, that he'd reprimand any other soldier for outright admitting to sparing a criminal like those rebels, but he couldn't force himself to denounce him.
"You...have a good heart. Is there anyone else who can translate?"
He knew Hitori wanted no part in it, but he had no other choice. He seemed grateful for that much, though.
"Thank you, Hoshino-sama. Jōtōsuihei Fusao knows some"
"Spare the honorifics, you're my friend. Just get him to the deck and go back to your quarters. You need the rest, just as much as I do"
Hitori walked off, and he ushered the prisoners through the men staring them down. The dark, frigid air outside seemed a bit of a relief compared to the fridges. What a night to go, the endless sea all around you, just before it envelopes you. The moon and stars shown through the clouds just enough to let one see out for a few hazy miles. If their feathers hadn't been plucked out, the two of them probably would've flown away. Not that'd they get far, shot down or no, but it was good to be able to lead prisoners without a pistol to their head.
The two men he'd sent off had come, armed with a broom that looked as old as him and a rusty bucket. It would probably need to be replaced after this.
Looking back, the kouma had their heads on a swivel, scanning the horizon. They seemed both stupid and sane, like they hadn't even thought they could end up in this situation. Whoever sent them were idiots, certainly.
"Jōtōsuihei Fusao reporting, sir! Tada-sama said you needed someone who spoke English, sir"
A gravely voice spoke, and he turned to see a young man standing at attention. Well, young to him, anyway.
"Right, let's get it started, then. I'm tired of these thing's games. Fusao, tell them the male, its name is pen or something, that he's being executed for disobeying orders. Do it authoritatively"
As Fusao translated, they did not give the reaction he expected. They cocked their heads, mumbling something to one another.
"What're they saying?"
"My English is not as good as Hitori-sama's, sir, but I believe they're asking what an execution is. I know I translated it correctly, sir"
Hoshino gave a rough chuckle, pulling his Nambu out of its holster, making sure his safety was off this time. The click it gave seemed to give them some understanding. Or fear, but that's just the beginning of understanding. He should've been an academic, then he wouldn't be on some rusty boat dealing with mythical creatures like some Yankee kid's book.
Quill put up a hoof, his stutter bad enough to transcend the language barrier. A few of the men on deck had their hands on their bayonets, ready for them to dash.
"Tell them all it would've taken for him to live was cooperation"
The looks they gave was as if a schoolboy had just been put through a horrid prank by his peers on the day his puppy got lost, a look of fear, anger, and loathing. He wasn't sure if the latter two were directed more at him, or themselves.
What Quill thought didn't matter, nor would Hoshino ever know it.
Author's Note
Tonoight on loind of the roising suns: Hoshino committs war crimes, Quill fucking dies, and I get writers block from college assignments
FEBRUARY 5, 1937
SAND ISLAND, MIDWAY ATOLL
8:47AM
Gregory Miller wished it was another boring day on boring ol' Midway, working for PanAm. A day where the most exciting thing would be greeting some fancy foreign ship coming in, like he had with those Japs a few days ago. Today was interesting, for sure, but for reasons he had thought, and absolutely now wished, were not possible.
Aliens. No, not Orson Welles' tall, lanky things in giant octopus-like tanks, but something much more benign. Or the absolute end of the world, if that those Japs were telling the truth. Pegasus, coming to destroy us all! Oh, the humanity! But you know the worst part? Of course you do, because I'm stuck in this blistering hot radio room and going on a long monologue to keep myself sane!
There's a giant pink ball in the ocean swallowing everything, and its supposedly only going to get bigger! This all came from Japs who had captured these thing's diplomats and promptly killed most of them, but not even his distaste for them could lead him to deny what all the ships and planes sent out were saying. "BIG PINK WALL, SUNK FISHING BOAT". He'd even seen pictures of it, though the grainy, shaky photos answered little.
Midway had what, 50 or so marines on it? The Navy said they were sending a few boats, but what could some dingy little skipper made half a century ago do? It annoyed him almost as much as the little incessant clicks of the teleprinter, which just tapped and printed along as fast as it could, as if it had something important to get to. Like it was-
Receiving something important. Kicking away his chair, he dashed to it, almost knocking it's young operator over.
"What's going on, why aren't you telling me when this shit goes off!"
Before he could receive an answer to his hurried question, he ripped out the paper, reading it.
"10 NAVAL VESSELS HEADING EAST, PRESUMED HOSTILE. NUMEROUS AIRCRAFT ESCORTING", along with some estimate of time
Well, this is just fucking great, isn't it? 'Anything Goes', as Crosby so eloquently put it! Martian aircraft and ships, full of magic horses! Yippee! Maybe I should've been a Mennonite, instead. Then I wouldn't even know what radio is! The operator poked him, sheepishly trying to avoid incurring his wrath. In a meek voice, he said what he should've thought a minute ago.
"Sir, we should get this to the marines".
"Yeah, I'll do it myself. Go get your pistol or something, it's all fouled up, anyways"
He wouldn't have otherwise uttered a word to that washed-up old doughboy, Corporal Daniels. Or, as all the soldiers called him, Mutt. Some baseball player from Decatur who couldn't make it big, crawling back to the Army on the basis of "oh, ah' caught uh' bullet in that there done leg in thuh' last war", and got sent to the Marines when they realized they had no use for him. The situation was too dire for that to mean much, anyway, but he had a right to be pissed, damnit!
He grabbed one of the bikes from the front of the hut, not caring who's it was. He was lucky some faraway jackass 40 years ago put the barracks on Sand Island, and not one of the other two. He pedaled as fast as he could along the unpaved road, the barracks just a little blip on the horizon. Despite the impatient whining starting to stir inside him, he knew it would just be a minute or two, a small upside to the fact his rotten hut was the newest addition to this island in almost 30 years. Some young private, with a thin, sickly looking mustache, was soon close enough to see him, happy to use his rifle for something other than shooting bottles.
"Halt! Sta-"
"Fuck off, you know me! We've got enemy ships, aircraft, whatever! Get this to the corporal right now, or you won't have me to point that rusted stick at!"
The private looked at him for a second, the crumpled paper in his outstretched hand. He snatched it up, running to the nicer looking building a few hundred feet away. Throwing his bike the way he came, he bitterly prayed for the boy. Clearly, he hadn't grown up somewhere too hard, or else he wouldn't have had to show off such a faked machismo. For such an important island, Washington seem to have given them little in the way of a competent force.
Mutt was relaxing, or at least attempting to. He'd been through the War to End War, though the name ran melancholy now. Man couldn't make his own big damned wars anymore, so they'd sent something else along. Maybe he caught a few too many missed catches to the head, back before they made everyone use helmets, and this was all one of those bad episodes crazy people went through. Sadly, the way the scrawny kid bust through the door seemed to say otherwise.
"Sir, s-shiips. Tw-twenny or s-so, aircr-craft too!"
If he heard through his stutter right, then maybe he was crazy. It wouldn't be those Japs, he could tell they weren't as stupid as people made them out to be. That only left one thing, which threatened to make him run loose inside his head 'till he was mad.
"Of course, with that damned crazy stuff goin' on in the water. Sound the alarm, I want all the guns up"
Standing up, he threw on his tin hat and followed the young man at a slower pace. Why couldn't this just be simple, like his grandfather's war? Men lining up against others, not some faraway lunacy? An alarm wailed, and the men scurried to the armory. A group of men heaved a giant .50 caliber Maxim gun. Browning, he corrected himself, but he'd seen too many different ones in France to care.
"Sir, your rifle!"
A young Lance Corporal, a dago (though he'd never call him that to his face) by the name of Luca, thrust a drum-magazined Thompson into his arms. Trying not to drop his own, he did a quick salute.
"Luca, get half the boys ovah' to Batteries C, F, an' A ovah' on the northeast. Make sure you take ones who can actually use those aircraft guns, 'cause we're fixin' to need 'em. I'll get to D an' A on the west end"
Why did they name two seperate batteries the same letter, when they were on different ends of the island? Who knows, but Luca understood. He ran off, grabbing and yelling at the mass of soldiers.
"Get your gas masks! I need the half of ya' not goin' with Lance Corporal Luca to come with me! We'll split up an' man the 3 and 5 inches D an' A! Anyone who ain't guncrew, you dig trenches 'bout 'em!"
56 marines on the island, so he had 28. the 3 inch took 3 men to crew, and the 5 inch 10....
"Powdermen on the 5 inchers, take ovah' for the hoistmen!"
OK, now he had 12 on the 3 inchers, 18 on the 5 inchers...Why didn't they give this island more men? What if they actually had to man all these damned guns, like they did now?! He tried to manage guncrews in his head as he ran, when he'd only ever fired a cannon once or twice in his life!
He could sacrifice the anti-aircraft guns, but Luca wouldn't be able to man all his, either, unless he put too few men to each.
"I want the men of one of Battery A's 5 inchers and the hoistmen of the other to act as infantry, dig in 'round the manned gun!"
Alright, he now had...22? Right, 22 men on the guns, leaving 6 (7 if he included himself) soldiers. If worst came to worst, which it probably would, they'd all end up being infantry. He knew he needed all the firepower he could manage, but he couldn't leave the crew vulnerable if they made a landing. If they landed near the 3 inch guns, he could defend them. If they did the smart thing and tried to take out the longer range one, the 3 inchers could fire in support of the infantry. If they just overwhelmed the island with naval gunfire....
Taking off his helmet and slipping on his mask, he sighed. Well, he's screwed anyway.
FEBRUARY 5, 1937
WATERS OFF THE EASTERN COAST OF EQUESTRIA
9:14AM
Admiral Baronet Gooseneck looked about the horizon as his longboat cut through the water, a few pegasi blowing at the sails with their wings. In all his days, he'd never thought he'd have come this far, figuratively and literally. He was a minor noble, yes, but this clean breeding came with a certain price. Namely, the namesake growth upon his neck, which caused his velvet coat to bulge slightly. The lower races liked to taunt him behind his back, he knew, but they always got what they deserved.
"Navigator, are you sure in your assessment that we are travelling in the correct direction? I do not wish to end up lost, like those fools they sent last time probably did"
A rough stallion, wearing a hastily cleaned uniform of thin blue cloth, took his eye off the heavy telescope mounted near the bow. He was supposedly decent, but pegasi almost always traded their intelligence for wings and good eyes.
"Yes, Baronet Sir, if we intend to simply find land. Those big birds seem to be heading east in pretty large groups, so I reckon they've got a good amount of nests"
Of course a birdbrain would look for birds to find his way. It was basic navigation, however, if you had no landmarks to guide you. He tried to butt in, to tell some related peice of his formal nautical education to his lesser, but a distorted voice came over the winds. Looking east, one of the scouts he'd sent out was returning.
She looks strong, her face a bit excited. Her hooves smacked down on the deck, before she raised one in a salute.
"Baronet Sir, I've spotted land east, southeast! If we go a little southeast, where the waves start to ref-"
"Just tell me, sailor"
"A series of islands, sir, but only two are big enough to be of any use. I saw groups of humans and ballista, sir!"
So it was fortified, then, not just a random settlement. You wouldn't build such if you expected nothing. Still, they could create a diversion with the pegasi...
"How many would you say, sailor?"
"I couldn't see them all, sir, but I suspect there are more. The ballista is the only great visible part, sir. They're set about the western island, poised to loose at any direction we might come from"
Damnit, then. He had 10 ships, he could simply make a show of force. But, if it didn't work....
"Well, then, we'll see if these beings are ones of honor"
FEBRUARY 5, 1937
SAND ISLAND, MIDWAY ATOLL
9:43AM
Gregory stood behind the overturn desk in the radio room, clutching his pistol. His assistant operator, David, shivered beside him. He wished he could be as cold as he probably felt, but the back alleys of San Fransisco had toughened him up.
"G-Greg, you think they're gonna shell us? They never gave us any masks, they're gonna make us int-!"
Greg elbowed him, not wanting his doubts to affect him. Yeah, the Japs said they wanted to "make all humanity into senrima!", but Japs said a lot of things.
"Yeah, they also said the Chinamen blew up that train in Manchuria, and look what they did then. Mythical creatures are real, but I'll be damned if I ever trust a Jap's word farther than that"
David fumbled with his revolver, some dented Smith and Wesson in .32. It was so old, he almost didn't believe him when he said it wasn't from the Civil War. Greg had his own, or rather, his father's. A Luger taken off a surrendered German officer, though he'd always say his old man had ripped it off one in a trench.
The teleprinter stirred up again, adding some more paper to the unnattended pile which now grew on the floor. David didn't want to risk even peeking over, and he didn't much care for what they had to say, either. Still, didn't Lee lose because he'd lost his plans? Sure, it was different, but did he really want this kid seeing him hiding right by him?
He fumbled up, pointing the pistol at the rotted door as he sifted through the pile of papers.
"What's it say?"
"Be a bit more quite, they might hear you! Just let me read the damn thing. Let's see....Vice Admiral Frederick J. Horne, Commander Aircraft, and then a bunch of letters. "Oh, we're sorry, but we can't spare anything but the damn-"
His wish to curse any earthly authority, especially naval ones, was cut short as he actually read what it said.
"Battle Group XVIII, USS Ranger, Lexington, Saratoga...they're not sending nothing, they're throwing everything they've got! Roosevelt, you wheelchair-bound red bastard, I might actually vote for you now!"
David looked up, a bit hopeful.
"Uh, Greg? What're those things, dreadnoughts?"
"Carriers! You keep taking messages, tell them we need immeadiate reinforcements or some shit! I'm taking this to Mutt!"
Before he could get a response, he kicked open the door, throwing himself ontop of his bike. This had to be the only time he'd be happy to see that old bastard, if how fast his bike was throwing itself forward was any indication. Trying to juggle the bike's handles and pistol, he could just about laugh at the absurdity of it all.
They'd be at those old guns, wouldn't they? Not like they'd need them, after what the Davy Jones was cooking up for them! Pedaling faster, he could make out something flying near the beach. Something too big to be a Gooney bird. Something....too pink?
Pink! Pink martian pegasus, right on Midway! Without a shot fired! Oh, that stupid old bastard, he'd wring his neck after shooting it!
He came within earshot, and a few startled heads swiveled his way for a moment. His bike tripped as it met the part of the beach where sand and grass mixed, but his anger made him recover. Mutt, true to his moniker, was talking to it! These stupid things made a shitty job even worse, they deserved nothing but rotten rice from a Chinatown trash can!
"-ou to submit yourself, when you shall inevitably lose ou-"
"Hey cocksucka! What the fuck do you think you're doing!"
All eyes, Martian or no, were upon him now. Frilly fucking things, dressed up like fairies going to a Shakespeare play at the Orpheum Theatre!
"Boy, I'm dealin' with it, just let-"
"No, Mutt, you're not! You washed up old coward, read this fucking note!", he yelled, throwing it on the ground
"Daniels, is this stallion under your command? I shall give you the time to flog him, if you wish it"
It speaks English! Sure, he knew they did, but actually hearing it is something else. Still, this rich asshole wanted to flog him like a pirate!
"No, I'm not, you fairy little limey bastard! I answer to Pan American Airways, what the fuck do you want?"
If a horse could be revolted, then this one was about to vomit. It looked like he'd just walked in on him being an onanist. It reminded him of those old nobles, scared of a little dirt on their shoes.
"We were discussing a duel for the fate of this island. Midway, as you call it. That was until we were so rudely interrupted"
A duel, a fucking duel? 50 paces and all that jazz?!
"Duel over the fate of the island? Could you sound a bit less like you take it in the ass?"
"Mister Daniels has command over the island, and as such, you must obey his authority!"
"No, you want a damn duel? I'll give you a damn duel!"
His hand went up in a second, and the horse quickly crumbled. Mutt's yells were quickly drowned out by rifle fire. A cannon fired, and a dinky little boat off in the distance exploded into woodchips. He almost didn't feel Mutt's fist as it slammed into his jaw.
FEBRUARY 5, 1937
MANEHATTAN FLEET, ON THE WATERS OFF EQUESTRIA'S EASTERN SHORES
10:01AM
Star Shine fumbled with a rope, trying to occupy himself. He knew they were likely to find humans before they found them, but that wasn't the only thing he was worried about. Earlier, he'd seen a whale, probably bigger than any recorded by pony hooves, just jump out of the water, swallowing a flock off birds whole. The fact the birds were only half his size didn't help, either. Equestria's sea monsters, they could deal with. If a kraken from the human world showed up....
"Shine, stop screwin' with that. You're not tying anything nice with just hooves, and you know it"
"Yeah, yeah, just shut up, Salty. Only other thing to do is watch you cook, and I'd probably starve myself if I knew how you operate"
Salty Spoon, a close friend of his, kicked him as she sat down. They'd both signed up when Celestia (he lowered his eyes in respect to his sovereign's name) had called for volunteers, and met when they'd gotten mixed up from their initials. They'd needed craftsponies, sailors, basically everypony associated with ships. The Princess had found this world, and said it's waters were a lot larger than home's. She was right, as she always was, but he wished she hadn't been.
"You know, telling the captain you could help me was how I got you off that ballista crew. What would the captain do if he saw you just laying around?"
"Fine, you're right. Better than having a rope snap and almost decapitate me again"
She laughed, remembering the time when he came back from training with his neck whipped red. He almost wished his cutiemark hadn't been in woodworking, then he wouldn't have ever been near one of the things. Thankfully, a knife carving out bits of wood was vague enough to just say it encompassed cooking, too. It did look slightly like a bowl, if he flexed his hind legs and squinted.
"What do you think humans are like, anyways?"
What a silly question. They'd learned about them in school, alongside the conversion of Gryphonia.
"Uh, I don't know? Wild, eat ponies, kill everything just to have some fun?"
That wasn't what she wanted, but it's the basics everypony knew.
"No, like, what're their families like? Do they have towns, plant things, or do they move from place to place until they use up everything around them?"
Most everything about the humans was destroyed in their conversion. Or rather, first conversion, considering they're somehow here, too. The Princess' ancestors, in their divine wisdom (he lowered his eyes in respect), had burned all human records, smashed their monuments, and cleansed the minds of any pony who had any close relations with them. That destroyed their influence, but ponies now knew next to nothing about them, beyond what old bones and stone huts told them.
"Don't know, I assume they'd have families of some sort. They had their own monarchs, so they had to have had them. I never really paid attention to history, beyond the basic stuff"
She was about to reply, before an alarm sounded. They both jumped up, bumping into eachother as they tried to find what was wrong. A yell came down the voice pipes which ran through the galleon.
"All hooves, stations! Unknown entities closing starboard! All hooves, stations!-"
It's real! Sea monsters, coming to kill us!
"Shine, we gotta go!"
"The sea monsters, they're real! I told you!"
"Yes, yes, I'm sorry for doubting, now let's get up there!"
They ran out the small room, bumping into the mass of seaponies making their way up. A few held hatchets or boarding pikes, some held nothing. A popping sound, like fire cracking wood, errupted somewhere he couldn't see.
"Get some water down here, something's burning!", somepony yelled
Something whizzed past his head, and a pony near him grunted and fell. He could only see his blood coating him for a moment, before the crowd forced him away. He was practically thrown up the stairs, head banging against the deck as the crowd surged out.
As he tried to collect himself, he saw something indescribable. Fire did indeed gush out of one of the ships, but he saw nothing fanning it. No dragons, no magic spells. Something roared in the air, like boiling water. A pack of...machines. Machines was the only word he knew for something so unnatural. They flew away, turning back in a tight arc. Another group came up and from the right. A few pegasi tried to fly up to meet them both, but were cut down by that same popping noise.
"Shine, Shine, stick with me!"
Spoon grabbed him, trying to take him....somewhere. What could he do, but watch? Not even the pegasi could run, falling out of the sky as the machines broke off to chase them. Ugly, but somehow sleek. Explosions started around him, throwing up water and the remains of the two ships unfortunate enough to be hit by whatever it was these things loosed.
He watched as one of the mysterious things approached, both insanely fast and boringly slow. It looked funny, with two set of yellow wings and a black and red spotted body. His eyes followed it as it passed, and he could hardly muster up any feelings as he watched a human poke out, waving. As quick as it came, it went off, killing any ponies that dared be in its vicinity.
Madness, it's just madness. A bunch of monkeys, flying and killing! Flying trains, loosing death upon anything in their path like a bad parade! An explosion sent him forward, and he watched a ballista slide into the ocean, along with some of its crew. The ship settled, throwing him onto his back.
"Get to the boats! It's hopeless, just get out of here!"
He looked up, and a unicorn officer shot rays of magic into the air. He didn't hit anything, but it drew attention to him nonetheless. Fire spurted from the back of one of monstrosities, and he fell, pawing at his neck. Bolts flew through the air, not even coming close to the machines. Ships blew up in the water, like fireworks going off. The speed at which they started to go down almost made him pout.
Looking around, trying to find Spoon as his spine screamed. He spotted her dark blue coat near the back of the ship, fighting for a space on the lifeboat. He shambled over, wondering why they wouldn't just sink that one, too. A few more explosions rocked the ships around him, the machines falling straight down, before pulling right up after dropping what must've been sinking them. One was only a few hooves from slamming into the ocean before it rocketed off.
He fell into the boat as it began to be lowered, with ponies rocking it back and forth trying to see across the sides of the galleon.
"They just sunk the Faust! They killed it, it went down in two!", one exclaimed, almost beating themselves with their hoof.
The boat hit the water, the unicorns on board tearing at the knots which tethered it to the ship. He helped push it away, still in a trance. Spoon clung to him, as he tried to sputter out that he needed to help row. He watched the little ugly things and their human leaders as they flew east, their reign of terror over, leaving the wreckage of what must've been a tenth or so of Equestria's navy dead in the water.
A dreadful noise picked up in the absence of the machines, wailing and floundering about in the ocean. A few pegasi tried to beat wind into the sails of one of the last proper ship still floating, unicorns patching up some of the holes with their magic. Of all the things ponykind had expected, not one had likely envisioned this.
Author's Note
please respect my totally original and not expy OC Mutt Daniels. He's different, in that he's a Marine and not in the Army.
