We Sail For Celestia

The Defiant had joined the rest of the Northern Fleet and sallied forth from Harmony Bay the previous afternoon. The bulk of the Kirin squadron which had been bottling them up in port had suddenly disappeared, presumably, so Admiral Strongbow surmised, called away by Kirin high command to assist with another target. That could only mean the Home Fleet, and that meant Blueblood must have been sighted by the Kirin, and could not be too far away.

Coastwatchers had tracked the Kirin ships and reported them heading west-south-west, which ruled out a resupply trip back to the Kirin Empire. They were definitely heading to battle, and so Strongbow ordered that the Northern Fleet would be, too. This was the break they had been hoping for. The Kirin no longer had the insurmountable force outside the harbour that they had possessed before. They had left some ships behind, but Strongbow decided it would be possible to push through them.

So it had proven. The Northern Fleet had charged out, three battleships and one battlecruiser leading almost a score of smaller warships to face the Kirin guard patrols, which had consisted of two battleships and half a dozen cruisers. A swift tactical manoeuvre, expertly executed by the seasoned sailors of the Northern Fleet, had split the Equestrian capital ships from the escorts in a pincer movement. The Kirin vessels had turned to engage and prevent the breakout, but now they had to contend with the danger of a torpedo attack from one side and heavy gunfire from the other. The Equestrian destroyers raced at full speed to firing positions on the seaward side of the Kirin squadron before turning to engage, forcing the Kirin ships away from the danger and closer to land. One of the Kirin battleships strayed into range of the shore batteries in an effort to avoid the torpedoes, and paid the price, bombarded into a smoking wreck by the massive sixteen-inch cannons.

The rest of the Kirin ships had succumbed either to torpedoes or the guns of the Northern Fleet, and Strongbow then ordered them to set course to, hopefully, rendezvous with the Home Fleet. They had sailed all night at flank speed, knowing that the Kirin could be engaging their compatriots at any time. By the time dawn came, the engine room crews were exhausted, despite the different shifts being rotated steadily through the night. Not long after first light, a lookout had spotted smoke on the horizon, then reported flashes, likely from heavy-calibre guns.

On the Defiant, Greenwood had stood by for half the night at his duty station on the bridge. Back in action having recovered from the gassing he had suffered at Fort V, he had insisted upon re-joining the ship when hearing of the impending departure, even though he was entitled to several more days' convalescent leave. Anything was better than being potentially sent back to one of the hellhole forts protecting the city, after all. Nothing had ever made him more glad to be a sailor than those days underground in the dusty, shivering darkness.

After grabbing a few hours rest and fitful sleep in his cabin, Greenwood was back on duty as morning came. The Celestial Spirit sent out messages via signal lamps; at Strongbow's command there were no radio messages exchanged after leaving Harmony Bay, so as not to potentially alert the Kirin that they were coming. If they could catch the enemy by surprise, it might just tip the balance in their favour. The Admiral ordered action stations, and with a whooping of sirens and the constant clang of klaxons, the fleet made ready to fight. Greenwood took up his position at the port torpedo launcher, wrapped in his scarf, greatcoat and cap as protection against the frigid plume of air that hung over the Great Eastern Sea.

The torpedo crew were ready, raring for more action after their little scuffle outside Harmony Bay. The Defiant had let off a single volley as part of the diversionary attack which had forced one of the Kirin battleships toward the shoreline, and the starboard launcher had been able to fire again at one of their cruisers, but Greenwood's port-side launcher had not had an angle on the second vessel. Perhaps they would get their chance soon. After a few minutes, even the crews down on deck could see the funnels of numerous vessels appearing on the horizon.

This is it.

The Celestial Spirit ran up a flag to the top of its foremast, a red cross on a blue and yellow background. This was a signal intended for the Home Fleet, and Vice-Admiral Moonshot quickly spotted it through her binoculars. The three fleets were quickly converging, the Kirin in hot pursuit. The shutters of signal lamps chattered aboard both flagships as they relayed commands to the rest of his fleet, and just when it seemed like the two Equestrian flotillas were going to collide, a beautiful ballet unfolded.

The Home Fleet suddenly parted, following the signal flag from Strongbow which had ordered pass either side of me. It was a signal usually reserved for ceremonial parades, where the Admiral or visiting dignitary aboard one vessel would see the rests of a squadron or fleet pass by on both sides of him or her, allowing them to review the passing ships and their crews standing to attention at the railings. This time, however, Strongbow had used it as a means of getting the oncoming Home Fleet out of the way of his guns quickly.

The capital ships of the Northern Fleet passed through the middle of the battered Home Fleet, and from his torpedo station Greenwood could quite clearly hear cheering. Sparing a glance as the escorts passed through, he could see grimy faces, stained and weary from battle, manning the secondary batteries aboard one of the Home Fleet's battleships. It looked a mess, with smoke rising from a recent hit astern, charred metal and splintered wood everywhere, one of the rear turret's mighty barrels randomly pointing upward at a drunken angle while the others were depressed practically as far as they could go, the mechanical guts of the turret evidently having been smashed into uselessness by a shell. But from the wildly waving arms of the crew, it seemed they had that most precious of resources. Hope.

Judging by the state of their ships, that must have been in short supply until they saw us coming. I just hope we live up to their expectations...

A mighty roar heralded the Celestial Spirit's opening salvo. The Kirin were coming into range of the capital ships, and Strongbow's ships obeyed his earlier orders, flashed by signal lamp. They spread out into firing formation and brought their bow turrets to bear, while the escorts began to race out toward the flanks. The Kirin had slowed down since their lookouts had reported the alarming news of incoming ships, and suddenly the situation did not seem as rosy for them as it had an hour earlier. Their fleet began to turn to avoid a head-on collision between the two sets of capital ships, bringing their broadsides to bear but also opening themselves up for a torpedo attack.

"Standby...!" Greenwood called out to his crew. Spray flashed up from the sea as the Defiant picked up speed, the bow pitching steadily as it cut through the water. They would get the order and the firing angle soon, no doubt. He licked his cracked lips studiously, one hand hovering near the firing stud. The main batteries of all the Equestrian capital ships were blazing away now, half-deafening despite being thousands of yards away as the destroyer squadrons turned away.

"Port and starboard torpedo launchers, make ready," came the voice of Captain Oakheart through the speaking tube. "Load all tubes, standby."

"Load tubes one through three!" Greenwood ordered. Barleycorn, the earth pony crew chief, oversaw his ponies as they sprang into action, sliding torpedoes into each tube and slamming each hatch closed.

"All tubes ready for firing, sir!" Barleycorn reported. Greenwood nodded and relayed the same message to the bridge as another cloud of spray washed over them. Oakheart was driving the Defiant hard, eager to reach a firing position. Another destroyer raced alongside them a few hundred yards away to port, and he knew there were others dotted all around.

What a proud sight it must be! Here we go, to battle once more! If I don't come through this one, dear brother, tell father I love him and that I'm sorry...

As one of the Home Fleet's battlecruisers passed by at a safe distance, Greenwood could see a familiar flag flying from its mast, and his heart soared. It was a three-striped green flag of different shades with a soaring eagle crest, the personal ensign of Commodore- now Rear Admiral- Green Haze.

Uncle! Uncle is here!

He found himself grinning at the idea of the old sea dog getting to take part in a proper battle, finally, after so long in charge of coastal defence around Manehattan and a host of other positions. His uncle had long been an excellent squadron commander and battlecruiser tactician, but there had simply never been a major naval war before in his distinguished career where he could put such skills to the test. Now, at last, he had his chance.

Greenwood felt like he should wave, but he doubted Green Haze would be paying attention to one of any number of other ships passing by and would hardly be likely to spot and identify his nephew among the chaos of battle. Even peering at the battlecruiser's bridge, Greenwood could not see his uncle, but he decided he might be able to relay a message to him through Captain Oakheart once the fighting was over.

If I'm still alive.

Some of the Kirin cruisers were moving to cut off the Equestrian destroyer squadron, and it was not long before shells began falling around them, raising waterspouts uncomfortably close to the Defiant. Oakheart was not deterred, however, and they sailed onward, closer to the Kirin capital ships, into torpedo range. It was within the range of the Kirin's big guns, but luckily their battleships were occupied duelling with Strongbow. The survivors of the Home Fleet were now looping back, under Moonshot's more decisive leadership and with their spirits buoyed by the arrival of reinforcements. Suddenly the Kirin were no longer the masters of the Great Eastern Sea.

"Port torpedo launcher, standby. Target Kirin battlecruiser, bearing zero-one-two."

The order came down from the bridge, and Greenwood nodded to Barleycorn. The torpedo crew were no longer stripped to the waist as they had been during their pirate encounter back at the start of their tour of duty, for that had been in the stifling tropics, but they still did not wear the same heavy greatcoat and weatherproof gear as Greenwood. Sleeves, lapels and buttons just offered something to get caught in machinery, which could prove timewasting at best and fatal at worst. The crew wore their undershirts and trusted in their natural hardiness- almost all of them were earth ponies, who tended to be more resistant to climatic extremes even at sea- to keep them frostbite-free. The strenuous nature of loading torpedoes and hauling the launcher about helped work up a sweat even in the chill of the arctic north. The launcher was aligned on the correct bearing, and Greenwood hovered over the sight and the firing stud.

Another blast of spray showered over them, but this time it was not from the natural motion of the ship, but rather a near-miss. Two Kirin cruisers stood in the path of the destroyer squadron, blazing away with their ten-inch guns and secondary batteries. The destroyer racing along beside them took a hit on its superstructure, smoke and sparks belching forth from the buckled metal plating.

"Port torpedo launcher, tubes one through three, fire!"

Oakheart's order was met with an instant push of the firing stud. Greenwood's eager hand reacted quickly, and one by one the three torpedoes were ejected from their tubes by loud thumps of compressed air, splashing into the ocean and racing away toward the battlecruiser some seven thousand yards distant. The helmspony swung the wheel and brought the starboard launcher to bear, its crew adding their own projectiles to the salvo. The neighbouring destroyer managed to launch all six of her fish also, and began the hard turn away to port. The Defiant followed, sweeping a graceful curve through the water.

The Kirin cruisers now found themselves in the path of a full spread of thirty torpedoes for which they were not the intended targets, and began panicked manoeuvres to avoid them. One succeeded in bringing itself about and slipping in between the silvery trails of bubbles marking each torpedo's path, but the other was struck a glancing blow that ripped a hole in the stern. Greenwood watched her slow to a stop with grim satisfaction, her rudder and propellers destroyed.

The Kirin line began to deform as the big ships manoeuvred to avoid the torpedoes, but at the same time the Kirin destroyers were trying to engage the Equestrian capital ships also. It was a dangerous game to be playing for the little ships, caught below the curtain of heavy shells and exposed to the secondary batteries of the Kirin line. The Defiant took a hit to the stern quarter, sending sparks and smoke flying. Greenwood ducked instinctively and heard the rattle of shrapnel pattering off the deck and superstructure of the destroyer.

It was not only the Kirin line that was falling apart, however. The Equestrian battle formation was bending and breaking as individual ships manoeuvred to avoid torpedoes or to keep their main batteries on bearing to finish off a crippled foe. One of the Equestrian battleships suddenly burst into flames as it was struck by something heavy, blazing brilliantly like a torch amidships. The Kirin flagship was charging forward, weaving between torpedo wakes and keeping its main batteries steadily hurling death toward the combined Equestrian fleets. It was leading the main Kirin force, which was still keeping order and following their leader even as the rest of their formation broke apart. Something had to stop them before they carved a hole in the Equestrian fleet.