We Sail For Celestia

It was a dull, overcast morning, just like so many others in Harmony Bay. The only thing that made this one any different was the panic.

There was an early train at seven that morning, and it had been crammed full, even though it was only going to Yakyakistan, hardly the most exciting destination. Yaks and ponies alike, the well-to-do mostly, had gathered up their belongings and booked passage out of the city. A most unedifying spectacle had developed at the station, with pushing and shoving, foals and old mares being shoved aside in the scramble for seats aboard. The train had departed twenty-five minutes late because of the crush, its passenger wagons throbbing with life, far too many creatures being squeezed into each one. Though the city itself had not yet been attacked, the implications were there, especially after governor Cranberry Cream's broadcast, made over loudspeaker from the city hall, warning citizens to stay indoors or seek shelter in basements in case of stray shells.

Ponies and Yaks were afraid. They lived in a military city, in essence; they knew that. But the warning about becoming the target themselves, deliberately or otherwise, startled many of them into flight. Another train departed at 9, and it too was crammed to the gills with ponies. Those who could not afford to simply book a train ticket on a whim remained behind, obeying the governor's orders as best they could and seeking safety in basements and solace in the arms of friends and family.

For the sailors of the fleet, however, there was nowhere to hide. They were preparing to sail straight into the teeth of a howling gale, not of wind, but of steel and high explosive. The Kirin fleet had been sighted by one of the patrol destroyers, the Windward, and tracked through the early morning, watched at a distance by the keen observer-Pegasi flying above the Equestrian ship. The smoke trails, funnels and masts of the Kirin were visible over the horizon, and the observers had been busy counting them, correlating their sightings with the observations made by the Destiny before it was sunk. They matched almost exactly, but what did not was the second group of smoke-trails sighted by the patrol cruiser Northern Light.

Some thirty miles south of the group sighted by the Windward, the cruiser's observers had spotted a long string of smoke-trails that had to be from ships. Believing they had the Kirin fleet in sight, they had radioed the fleet, but found the same problem from the night before was persisting. Unable to establish radio contact, they turned tail, the Northern Lights arriving back in Harmony Bay an hour after the Windward, to find the fleet already preparing to sail out.

Making her report, the cruiser's captain had informed Admiral Strongbow of the sighting, which caused great confusion. The Kirin, so far as was known, possessed only enough capital ships to form a single large fleet and a number of coastal patrol divisions. Had they been so rash as to commit their coastal forces to this attack as well, thus leaving their homeland open to a possible counterstroke? Had they divided their main fleet during the night? Or was something else afoot?

The fact that the Windward's sightings corresponded almost exactly with those of the Destiny the night before all but confirmed it was the same fleet that the two destroyers had sighted, but then what had the Northern Lights been looking at? The two reported sightings were taken at almost the same time, meaning there was no way it could be the same force. This second group of vessels had also not been on course for Harmony Bay, but rather steering south of it, as though they were keeping deliberately clear of the port for some unknown reason. Merchants, alerted to the newly developing conflict, perhaps? No, there were too many of them. A pirate fleet, opportunistically out for blood and plunder? Again, too many of them, and much too far from their bases in the archipelago in the distant south.

So what exactly was this second group comprised of?

The matter had to wait, for the imminent threat was from the main Kirin fleet. The second group of ships might have been a ruse, to lure them out of their base, or it could be the Kirin's backup, waiting out at sea for orders to attack and outflank or envelop the Equestrians. Strongbow did not know, and could not expend time and energy thinking about it just yet. His ships needed to be ready for what he knew was definitely coming, not what might be heading their way in the future.

Reinforced by the two patrol ships which had returned, though not the third, the destroyer Windfall, which was still searching the seas in a different sector, the fleet brought up steam and prepared to move out. The Celestial Spirit took its symbolic place at the head of the main line, leading the two undamaged battleships, one battlecruiser, five cruisers and a dozen destroyers, out from the inner harbour. The Kirin were on their way and it would be less than an hour before battle was joined.

The civilian merchantponies and the fleet's non-combatant and support craft sounded their sirens and whistles in salute as the fleet weighed anchor and began to move. Their crews lined the railings, and ponies lined the wharves and piers, waving handkerchiefs and flags as though the fleet were out for review before the Princess and not on their way to war. Those who had not fled or already taken shelter, it seemed, were supportive of their brave sailors, even if the provincial government was not.

The Defiant took its place in the line, out on the port flank of the fleet, slipping out of the narrow neck of the bay and into the open water under the overlooking promontory at the tip of Fat Colt Island. The gunners of the fortress above them cheered and sounded bugles and trumpets, and the fleet answered with whoops of their collision sirens, a triumphal chorus of both the instruments of music and the instruments of war.

Greenwood stood at his station near the port torpedo tubes, assigned there again by Captain Oakheart. It suited him; the bridge was all well and good, but this was the business end of the ship, where the action happened. The torpedo crews had been well-blooded last night, getting two kills for no losses among the Defiant's crew. It was an excellent start to any war, at least on an individual's terms. The damage to the fleet had been considerable, but at least the Defiant had ensured the enemy did not get away unscathed from their daring raid.

This day, however, would be different, whatever the outcome. This was no night-time surprise, but a fleet action, where the big guns of the big ships would carry the day. Yet there was room for a destroyer among the melee; if one could get into range, a torpedo volley could be just as devastating against an enemy capital ship as it had proved to be in the early hours of that morning. Capital ships were armoured, for the most part, but that armour tended not to extend very far below the waterline for reasons of weight, stability, cost and ease of construction. Belt armour was common, strips of thick, strong plating that extended just below the waterline along the flanks of a ship, the most likely places for a torpedo to strike. Newer ships, including the Celestial Spirit, also had torpedo bulges, empty compartments fitted to the sides of a ship below the surface and then filled with water, designed to cushion the blow of an underwater explosion in a similar way to a layer of earth atop a bunker would on land. Nevertheless, even a ship fitted with both of these features could still succumb quite easily to a single, well-placed torpedo. That was the main purpose of destroyers, and also the small shoal of little torpedo boats that accompanied the fleet from harbour. The torpedo boats were about a third of the length of the Defiant and only possessed one or two torpedo tubes, but they added a useful adjunct to the fleet's firepower, if they could get close enough to the enemy without being blown clean out of the water.

With the flagship leading the way, its damaged hull patched up by hours of hard work overnight, Admiral Strongbow's force moved out, under the protective umbrella of the shore batteries. As they did so, one of the batteries signalled to them with a lamp; enemy sighted.

Pegasi spotters were immediately sent aloft, and confirmed it for themselves. Smoke on the horizon, out to the east-southeast. Getting closer. The Kirin were almost upon them.

Strongbow sounded battle stations and full speed ahead. His ships kicked up some speed, the destroyers and cruisers spacing themselves out, the battleships in line astern, with the battlecruiser Resolution to the starboard of the flagship. The Kirin fleet crested the horizon a few minutes later, a most unnerving sight to the unblooded crews of many of the Northern Fleet's vessels, those which had not seen combat or death the night before. This would be the first action for so many sailors and junior officers that to read their names would be like reading the entire personnel roster for the fleet. That was the disadvantage of not having a major naval engagement for decades.

The Kirin, however, would have the same issue, not only having not fought another navy recently, but having a long period of national isolation before that. Their crews would be just as green and inexperienced, which would mean the results of this battle would come down to one of two factors; who had the better training, and who had the better luck.

With the radio still proving problematic, Strongbow used signal lamps and flags to pass the word to his ships. They were outnumbered by the Kirin, but they had the shore batteries behind them, who could cover their retreat or add their firepower to an assault. Everything depended on what the Kirin chose to do. Their gunmetal-grey ships were painted with umber and white diagonal stripes along the flanks, the colours of their national flag, which flew from every masthead in the fleet.

The six battleships led the line, their great, steep prows cutting through the water menacingly, heavy twelve-inch guns in double or triple turrets crowning their foredecks, squat superstructures and canted funnels, painted with rings of black, white and dark red, perhaps to indicate membership of a certain fleet or squadron, or perhaps merely for symbolic purposes. Equestrian intelligence on the Kirin navy was scant at best. Other than a list of ship names and rough silhouettes that the local consular staff had managed to scribble down and sketch while out walking in Kirinton's naval base, there was very little else to grace the pages of any Equestrian captain's tactical notes when he turned to the chapter marked Kirin.

The rest of the Kirin fleet was widely spaced, covering a large area of sea, perhaps anticipating early fire from the shore batteries and Equestrian heavy guns. In fact, as Strongbow quickly noted, the Kirin ships were keeping a wary distance from the shore, content to sit out to sea and slowly move to battle formation, trying to tempt the Equestrians out to play. Strongbow was having none of it. Their transparent come-on was not going to wash with a commander of his experience. He deduced that the Kirin were afraid of the shore batteries, as well they might be; together, the two forts on Fat Colt Island and the wetern headland contained half a dozen sixteen-inch heavy cannons, a larger caliber weapon than that fitted to any battleship, due to weight and size constraints. The massive guns posed a very potent threat to anything afloat, and though they had never fired in anger against a Kirin vessel, Strongbow had no doubt at all that they would prove deadly to their warships should they come into range.

Clearly, the Kirin Admiral was no fool, but nor was he or she a coward. Their ships were happy enough to come within range of the Equestrian fleet, now arrayed out in the open channel outside of the harbour. The enemy was the first to fire, several ranging shots from their lead vessel landing well wide of their target, which was either the Celestial Spirit or the Resolution, for they splashed into the sea harmlessly between the two vessels. Strongbow kept the fleet driving on, intending to turn and Cross the T of the enemy line if possible, while ordering his destroyers to outflank and close with any enemy capital ship they could engage with. The torpedo boats followed suit. Unfortunately, so did the Kirin.

There were twenty destroyers with the enemy fleet, and twice as many torpedo boats bringing up the distant rear, which now began to race forward to close the gap. They were too small of a target for the massive fortress guns to easily hit, and the same applied to the main batteries of the Equestrian capital ships. Their secondary armament, however, was a lot more able when it came to engaging small, manoeuvrable targets. Strongbow flashed his orders; all ships were to focus their main battery fire on the enemy battleships and cruisers, while their secondary guns were free to engage any enemy destroyers or torpedo boats that came into range.

The frontal turrets of the Celestial Spirit opened up, joined moments later by those of the Resolution as it sped along beside the flagship. Their shells went even wider than those of the Kirin had, landing well clear of any imperilled vessel and exploding in the water. The other battleships of the Northern Fleet, the Northwick and the Stalliongrad, spread out and opened fire as well. Not a single shot connected with anything at the other end.

Greenwood watched from the railing of the Defiant, straining his neck to see as he heard the shots from the Equestrian battleships. He could see the enemy fleet ahead, but so far as he could tell, none of them had yet been hit. That would surely change. The standard of gunnery among the fleet was the butt of many jokes, but most naval jokes were at the expense of other branches of service or other stations within a vessel- the stokers telling jokes about the gunners, the gunners telling jokes about the stokers- and were mostly friendly banter among crewmates. Surely some of the witticisms about the gunners had to be cut from whole cloth and not based in fact?

Oakheart ordered the Defiant ahead at thirty knots. Some of the smaller Equestrian torpedo boats were overtaking them, cutting through the water like racing yachts, unimpeded by the bulk of larger vessels and almost bouncing from crest to crest of the small waves that dotted the sea. They would be storming into the fight, and inevitably, at least a few of them would not return to port. If that was the limit of the fleet's losses, however, then things would have worked out rather well for them.

The Kirin battleships adopted a firing line, starting a gentle turn to bring their aft turrets to bear as well as those on the foredeck. Shells whistled over the Equestrian battleships, plumes of water rising from the sea nearby. Still off target, but getting closer with each volley, despite the Kirin ships staying at range, refusing to be drawn into the cones of fire of the shore batteries that had the back of the pony fleet.

As the destroyers and torpedo boats of both navies closed in, the heavy guns of the capital ships continued their long-range duel with each other, and it was the Kirin that struck the first blow. A shell whistled down upon the forecastle of the Stalliongrad, exploding but failing to punch through the steel plating that lay below the wooden-planked deck. Splinters and shrapnel whickered across the deck and pattered against the two fore-turrets like hail, rattling the gunners inside but doing no damage.

The Defiant continued on course, Oakheart driving her hard for one of the Kirin behemoths, its triple-barrelled turrets blazing brightly against the unbroken grey of the sea and sky, each shot making the ship and her crew reverberate, like a bell being struck by a hammer. The mighty guns were deadly, and the more of them that could be silenced, the better. The battleships of both fleets, however, did not only possess large-caliber cannons. They also had a goodly complement of smaller weapons, four, five or eight-inch guns, some in turrets, some merely fronted by gunshields like many of the shore batteries. These were of limited use against a heavily armoured target, but against smaller vessels, merchants, shore installations and anything else that was not sheathed in thick steel, they were just as deadly.

The secondary batteries of the Kirin capital ships opened fire as soon as they could get a bead on a target that was coming into range. At first, that meant the torpedo boats, the cavalry of the sea, moving fast and hard to hit. Hard, but not impossible, and from Greenwood's position manning the fully-loaded port torpedo tubes, he could see at least one Equestrian boat find itself on the receiving end of a shell, perhaps an eight-incher. It was there one second, and the very next, most of it was underwater, ripped apart by the blast and the explosion of its own torpedoes and driven beneath the waves by her own momentum. Of the crew there was no sign at all.

Half a dozen Equestrian boats made it into range and fired, accurately enough, a pair of torpedoes each, streaking out just below the surface as they turned desperately away to avoid the hail of lighter fire from the Kirin's secondary batteries, machine guns and rapid-fire light cannons, designed and mounted for use against just such a threat. The rest of the Equestrian boats either turned away in panic or simply could not get close enough for an accurate shot, wasting their torpedoes with wildly off-target launches. Of the torpedoes that had been launched, only two found their targets, striking a Kirin cruiser and one of their unfortunate battleships but failing to penetrate their heavy belt armour.

Now it was the turn of the destroyers, and Oakheart was keen for a successful repeat of their attack on the Kirin destroyers from the previous night, or, more accurately, their destruction of the pirate, for a similar turning maneuver would be vital here to avoid sailing straight into the sights of the Kirin guns.

"Port torpedo battery, standby to fire. Angle of attack one-eight degrees. Standby all tubes," came the order over the tannoy.

"Run out the launcher, one-eight degrees!" Greenwood bellowed, eager for the action to begin. The tension had been building during their entire voyage, from the moment the whoops and sirens from the port ceased. They had sailed out under the guns of their forts and into open water, and now the moment was at hand. The crew was blooded from the night before, and from the pirate they had sunk, and Greenwood knew that Barleycorn and the others were up to the task. Despite the chill air and the potential for icy spray to be tossed up by the ship's motions, several of the torpedo crew were still shirtless, clearly made of hardy stuff, though as winter arrived with a vengeance in a couple of weeks, Greenwood imagined even they would start to wrap up warm for above-deck operations.

"Starboard battery, fire all tubes!" Oakheart ordered as the ship turned slightly to port, before the Defiant began to heel over hard to starboard.

"Port battery, fire all tubes!" Greenwood slammed the firing control. A trio of torpedoes were unleashed as the enemy fleet came into view, a terrible sight so close to an Equestrian shore. No pirate force was this, but a true, disciplined, well-equipped navy. That much was evident from a glance, for their capital ships were pirouetting in quite the elegant manner to bring their guns to bear while still maintaining their formation. Their destroyers were performing a similar role to the Defiant, but many of them appeared to be going after the Equestrian torpedo boats; that, after all, had been the original purpose of the destroyer, before they had been fitted with torpedo tubes themselves and given a similar task to the smaller boats.

Several shells landed near the Defiant as she turned, mid-caliber guns trained upon them from one or more of the Kirin vessels. Then followed a shock, to the mind as well as the body. The Defiant had fought through the encounter with the pirate and through the enemy night attack without a scratch, but that run of luck was brought to an abrupt and noisy end. A shell, well-aimed, struck the destroyer amidships on the port side as she turned. Greenwood, so focused on watching the run of his torpedoes as they sped toward the enemy, scarcely heard the shell coming in, but he felt the concussive blast from behind as it sent him staggering against the launcher. HIs uniform flapped as though he were walking against a stiff breeze, and several of the torpedo crew fell to the deck, winded or wounded, he could not tell which.

They had been hit, that much was clear, but how bad was it?

Greenwood scrambled to check on the crew. They were all still breathing and moving; that was good. Minor wounds, perhaps, cuts and scrapes, nothing more. He turned to survey the damage. Whatever size the shell had been, it had made a good account of itself, for the deck was splintered and smashed, the side of the superstructure stove in just abaft the beam, at least one hatchway completely wrecked. Whether there was any internal damage, he could not say. He heard the tannoy blaring out Oakheart's orders.

"Damage control party, damage control party, port side, deck three amidships. Port side, deck three amidships."

Another shell landed close aboard the railing and drenched him in salt water. Somebody had evidently singled out the Defiant for a good hiding. The ship shuddered again as something else hit them, somewhere over on the starboard side this time. They were too close for comfort; the farther away a ship was, the less accurate its guns would generally be, and the fewer of its secondary batteries would be within range. To launch their deadly silver fish, the Defiant had to suffer the perils of all destroyers and motor-torpedo boats.

They were not alone. Another destroyer, the Windrider, was hit hard in the superstructure, smashing one funnel and destroying her radio room, killing a dozen ponies. Another, the Windraven, took a hit on the bridge, killing her captain. Another even more luckless ship, the Diligence, sister to the Defiant, had a hole torn in her side by a ten-inch shell and overturned in minutes, disappearing beneath the waves along with most of her crew.

The damage was not confined to the destroyers and torpedo boats. The Celestial Spirit came under fire, shrugging off most of the glancing hits from Kirin shells but losing one of her secondary guns and a score of crewponies. The battlecruiser Resolution was set ablaze for a short while when a shell ripped through her deck armour and ignited a paint locker. The fire spread to several crew berths and workshops before being extinguished by the damage control teams. The Equestrian ships, however, finally started to enact a toll of their own in response.

Two of the Kirin destroyers and half a dozen of their torpedo boats were sunk as they dared approach for an attack run, and observers reported direct hits on three of their cruisers, one battlecruiser, and two battleships. At least some damage had been done in the long-distance firefight, and Admiral Strongbow hoped to sucker the enemy in. He ordered the flagship and the Resolution, as well as two of the cruisers, to make smoke and turn for home, as though they were fleeing the battle in disarray. This they did, and the rest of the fleet followed, turning away from the Kirin.

Strongbow's ruse was not going to be effective, however. The Kirin Admiral did not follow, so keen did they appear to be to keep their ships out of range of the shore batteries. Only the destroyers and torpedo boats set off in any kind of pursuit, inflicting some more damage to the two rearguard cruisers of the Equestrian force. The battle was over, at least for the day. Strongbow's force had taken losses and casualties, and heavy damage had been caused to several of his capital ships, but a similar toll had been taken on the enemy. Neither side could afford to simply stride on and attempt to deal a more decisive blow; the Kirin did not want to come into range of the shore batteries, and Strongbow could not afford a straight fight with the superior numbers of the fleet from across the sea.

The Northern Fleet returned to port, the shelter of its waters and the cover of its forts. The Kirin stayed out at sea, standing off at a distance, out of range. It was a stalemate, and was quickly reported as such by telegraph to Canterlot, in response to the orders which had come through while the fleet had been at work. Celestia had ordered Strongbow to do exactly what he had done; take the fleet out, engage the enemy if possible, but do not overcommit and risk losing ships or ponies unnecessarily. Naval reinforcements would be organised as soon as possible.

Strongbow was content with his actions so far. They had given the Kirin a bloody nose, albeit while taking one in return in the process, and kept them at bay. The shore batteries were now fully manned, their guns ready for action should the Kirin attempt another night attack. The fleet had begun repairs the moment it returned to port, with the wounded transferred to hospital and the dead taken for burial. They had to be ready for anything.

Some one hundred miles to the west, a column of ships continued their stately progress, almost arriving at their destination. It had been a long trip across the sea, especially for the cargo, down below decks. While the Kirin battlefleet blockaded Harmony Bay, these ships were on a different route, strung out on the slate-grey ocean like a string of pearls. They were not going to Harmony Bay. The ships were not.

But their cargo was.