December 9, 1277 - Mission Day 61

Thirty flags. Thirty bodies.

Around the flightdeck, on a sunless morning like any other in the Wasteland, many of the ship's company were gathered. Most of the crowd were the ponies associated directly with the dead - messmates, squadmates. The 51st and the Steel Rangers stood side by side, silent as they watched. The closest to the dead stood by their palls, standing at attention. Captain Anchor Aweigh, as the ceremonial sovereign of the vessel, stood as the head of the proceedings, the Admiral a few feet behind him.

The gale blew loudly enough that the rites, recited from the handbook he levitated in front of him, were barely heard to those upwind. As the Captain reminded everypony aboard that the Navy, country, and populace would remember their sacrifice long after they were committed to the sea, a salute of rifles were given - three shots into the air. Then, the palls were tilted as each's name was read, the body bags dropping into the sea with the slight flutter of the Stars and Sisters that had covered them.

The members of the 51st rejoined as the final rites were given for their fallen team member. Many of them, especially the elders, had seen members of their squad fall and be replaced several times. However, they had hoped against all hope, that maybe this time they'd all make it. As cruel reality had so quickly chosen to reminded, the lot of a soldier was one where survival was a luxury and death was but a waving flag and a splash in the ocean.

The Ranger-Marines helped their companions into the sea. Some had made it clear their will to be buried on land, wanting to be closer to the earth in their deaths. Many hadn't bothered to make their wants clear, death was not something to look forward to, nor was it something a Ranger ever saw coming. Many needed to grasp at photographs and memories to remember the ponies behind the faceplates.

There was a moment of silence afterwards, before the crew was dismissed.

Once again, the CIC's briefing room was sealed for just a few, important ponies. To the right side of the table sat the leadership of the Indefatigable, her Captain, the commander of her Marines, her intelligence officer, and her Admiral. To the left sat the leadership of the Steel Rangers, their Elder, and their two Star Paladins. Finally, sitting to the side of the Captain was the walking corpse of Captain Star Strider, sharing nervous looks between the smoothcoats on his side of the table and the ones on the other. Before them, a recently-printed paper map was flattened out, indicating a geographic map of the Las Pegasus region along with the locations and borders of the settled areas acquired from the Syndicate.

To the victors, went the spoils.

"We believe we should take control over these three settlements," Elder Bronze Pip reached out, tapping three locations on the map. The areas marked were named, at least by the automapping system, as 'Underpass', 'Castle Town' and 'Straddle', "They're the closest to the base, thus they make the most sense logistically. The rest, we're more than happy to leave to you."

Admiral Azure Bluette's eyes scanned the rest of the map. There were five other settlements - six if you counted the Gun Rush Casino - that hadn't been claimed. Sunset Town, Talley Bank, AllSpark, Sunny Trails, and Hoofhill Rises. Looking up from the map, she asked, "Tell us a bit about these settlements."

Elder Pip telegraphed her answer with an intake of breath, "Well-"

She was, however, interrupted by a raised hoof from Azure, "Sorry, Elder, I wasn't speaking to you," instead, Azure planted her gaze directly on Captain Star Strider.

The... ghoul coughed, "Erh, well..." reaching out and tapping Underpass, he explained, "Underpass is a town mostly built around turning cars into fresh metal and any mechanical parts they can find," then, to Castle Town, "Built a moat outta Balefire Lava. Pretty ghoul-friendly community. They built in an old arms factory, make ammunition for a living," then, his hoof slid across to Straddle, "Built in the swampy marshland on the elbow of the River Rush where it turns south. Swamp trees there adapted to the rads and lived on, so they cut 'em down and make riverboats out of them. Small community."

By the twitching of the ears of the two Paladins sitting to either side of the Elder, Azure could tell there was some tension between the living and the dead at the table. Still, she raised her muzzle, "A steady supply of metals, mechanical parts, ammunition, and access to riverboats, then?" she looked towards Pip.

The Elder took a calm breath, not taking her eyes off of Captain Strider, "More or less, yes. I believe you have your own workshops for ammunition tooling aboard this ship, those settlements provide their own supply of metals, and the Gun Rush has its own river docks."

Azure honored the response with a nod, before looking back to Strider and saying, "Go on, Captain."

He cracked a yellow, rotten smile at the ponies across the table from him. Finally, the Elder's muzzle twitched in disgust. Chuckling to himself, he moved his hoof down to the other settlements, "Gun Rush, y'know that one. Sunset Town's the biggest fishery n' ocean shipyard on the west coast. They also got that fancy tourist getup to take ponies out to see the sun-"

"The sun?" Azure spoke up.

"Well, yeah. Lotta wastelanders would kill to see the sun again. Just as many would give up their life savings to do the same. So, ponies with boats strong enough to battle the ocean swells give 'em the service of travelling out to a sandbar to see the sunset. I helped the first navigators there build ocean worthy boats," Strider chuckled, "Then they tried to claim I was going feral and got a lynch mob after me; they wanted to remove me from the profit cuts, I'm pretty sure."

Silence... then a cough.

Glancing around the room awkwardly, Star Strider cleared his throat and moved on, "A-Anyway. Talley Bank is up the coast from Sunset Town. They do some fishing, not as much as Sunset Town, but quite a bit. Biggest thing they do is crabbing and diving - crabbing for y'know... crabs, and diving for the tons of wrecks that got sunk by the balefire over the harbor. Lots of good salvage there," his hoof moved to AllSpark, "AllSpark's more than just the petroleum power plant. The Tarcoats restored a good portion of the riverside industrial park... though not all the machinery inside of it. AllSpark made mostly guided weapons and arcanotronics before the war-" a pause and another deathly grin, "...Well my peers at this table know that already.

"AllSpark's been powered down 'cause the Indy is powering most of the Las Pegasus region with her reactors. The substation there still regulates most of the power grid and the Tarcoats are doing their best to accelerate their efforts to restore an energy weapon facility there," Strider tilted his head from side to side, "The power plant was the most functional thing there, otherwise you just got a small chemical lab to help refine crude oil. AllSpark's not got a lot of place in this wasteland outside of it, but hell if you could find the ponypower to operate them assembly lines you could compete with Fillydelphia."

Elder Pip leaned in once again, "Speaking of Fillydelphia, the Syndicate held many trade deals for scrap metal and repacked concrete bricks to be sent out East via the river. They might try and threaten you into restoring those deals - don't listen to them. Not only could they hardly support an assault logistically, they're already tied up fighting our contingents in the East. You cutting this source of raw materials has already made our enemies nervous."

Star Strider frowned, the pleasure he'd taken in the conversation so far seemingly fading away, "...Unfortunately the smoothcoat is right. If you want to hurt the slavers, cutting trade's for the best. I'd recommend looking up Friendship City, though. Maybe you can find a deal."

Azure Bluette reached up, rubbing the space between her eyes, "The rest of the settlements, Captain?"

"Right, right," Star Strider extended his withered foreleg once again to tap another location, "Sunny Trails. Ground settlement built in a trailer park. They're a waystation for scavvers working through the central city blocks. Recently built workshops to process and clean scrap for resale. They also got a domestication business going on - they breed radigators, mostly for the eggs but the hide makes real good armor too. Some of the leather you see on the high up Syndicate is from there.

Moving his hoof to Hoofhill Rise, "Rise's the deepest settlement into the inner city. There was a skyscraper there that was under constructions when the bombs went. Only skyscraper in Las Pegasus still standing. That there's a pure mining town - they quarry down concrete into slabs, melt rebar, and sift through the collapsed rubble of the entire city. Then, they ship it all off to Straddle and Gun Rush to be taken upriver to Red Eye."

Lightning Bringer scratched her chin as the ghoul finished his explanation, "...A lot of scrapping and industry, yet not a lot of subsistence industry like farming."

"Yep. Las Pegasus is the source of most of the concrete and scrap metal in the Wasteland, but a low population of Stables means not a lot of growing space. Balefire Lava keeps the population of monsters low, so settlements can scrap more consistently. Anything Las Pegasus doesn't have, it trades with the Slavers for. Syndicate made up the rest of the food deficit with their plantation," Star Strider reached down, adjusting the belt of his recently laundered uniform with a sigh.

"I wonder how much of a deficit Las Pegasus will suffer from the lack of external trade," Captain Anchor frowned.

"Probably even more of a deficit than it already has!" Star Strider laughed, "You know, the Syndicate instituted rationing to make ends meet while trading with you. The Indy practically doubles the amount of population in the area."

Azure Bluette nodded, "With the plantation captured, we can work on expanding more growing space. The rationing may need to continue for a while."

"So, a five-eight split of administration?" Anchor concluded, looking over the map again, "I assume we're going to share logistics, allow trade convoys and such?"

"Of course," Pip said plaintively, "While all of us are in control of the land routes, I imagine you will be able to shuttle ponies around more efficiently without relying on your supply of jet fuel."

Azure Bluette stayed silent, for a moment, before changing topics entirely, "What is your plan for administration of the occupied areas?"

"We plan for an... occupation," Pip shrugged, "Keeping the tribal's needs met in return for the productions of their settlements. We'll need to call for some reinforcements from the Trottingham Contingent to enforce peace. Is your plan much different?"

"Perhaps more detailed," Azure muttered, looking away, "We'll need to commission several MAs so that security is kept aboard our ship, while still providing order amongst the settlements. We'll need to ensure laws are codified, administration is adapted accordingly to work efficiently with our own leadership. We'll be treating this area as being under martial law, which will require quite a few soldiers to sufficiently keep the peace, at least for the time being."

"For the time being?" Roaring Thunder asked.

"Well eventually they'll be naturalized," Azure gave a slight, knowing smile, "They'll be volunteering their own law enforcement officers, or our own soldiers will naturalize into their populations while still enforcing order. Civilians are inefficient when constantly under surveillance by an occupying force - the way to sustainability is by ceasing to be an occupying force eventually."

"Perhaps wise words from the pre-war philosophy, Admiral," Pip leaned forward, robe flowing down around her forelegs as she steepled them on the table in front of her, "I would caution against relying on ideas that have been outmoded for two centuries."

"Not everything outdated is wrong, Elder," Azure's smile grew.

The world was in almost sickly sweet, sharp colors and contrasts. The fog over Ivory's brain had been lifted, and the neural connections in his brain fired freely. Things seemed much clearer to him, though he couldn't precisely place his hoof on what.

What he did know is that suddenly he felt like playing cards again, rather than just lying down and sleeping the recreation time away on his bunk. Butter Apron had been all too happy to comply. Even the Steward had been convinced to play.

One might think a robot was an unfair opponent to play against in a game of poker, considering the machine constituted a perfect liar. However, it was clear to Ivory that it lacked in other ways - all of its decisions were formulaic, predictable, and fell into a pattern. While the steward had started out strong, Ivory had quickly taken control over the table as soon as he'd learned how it thought. Butter, poor Butter, simply sat in a corner losing out in almost every round.

The door of the kitchen suddenly opened, causing all heads except the robot's to turn. Standing in the doorway was the Admiral, still buttoning up the jacket of her uniform and straightening her cap, "Mr Heart?" she asked, eyes locking onto him, "...You look chipper."

"Yes ma'am," Ivory smiled, standing up to a stock straight position, Butter following along shortly after, "What can I do for you?"

The Admiral blinked at his tone, but shook her head and continued on, "You're a lawyer, right?"

"Yes, indeed."

"What kind of law did you specialize in? Civil? Criminal?"

"Civil law, but I would technically be licensed to practice either."

The satisfied nod that the Admiral gave made Ivory curious, though she didn't give his curiosity long to linger, "We need specialists in civil and criminal law to help administrate the Las Pegasus Occupation Zone. We have a military law advisor aboard, who specialized in criminal law, but as you well know matters of legality extend far beyond the realms of the purely criminal."

Ivory blinked a few times. Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? He hadn't heard anything about a 'Las Pegasus Occupation Zone', though he could sufficiently connect the dots himself.

"There's not a single other pony aboard this vessel who passed the bar. Most ponies who are qualified to be lawyers simply become lawyers, rather than joining the Navy. I suppose you are a unique case, Mr. Heart," the Admiral commented, tapping a forehoof on the ground impatiently, "You would be out of here by the end of the week and relocated to Sunset Town, the settlement just across the land bridge. Your duties would extend to providing legal counsel to civilians and advising Navy personnel about civil law. There's no surviving court system, so we can't exactly reinstate an entire legal system- but you can help guide decision making about providing as smooth of a system as we can at this point."

She smiled, "The change in scenery should at least be refreshing, Mr. Heart."

Ivory was... confused. She was offering him freedom? Just a few weeks ago, she'd ordered what was practically his imprisonment and 24 hour suicide watch. Her comment about him being the only one aboard the ship specialized to practice civil law echoed in his mind - if he'd been a pony...

He shook his head, sharp and focused mind reminding him on what term he had to secure from her first, "I request that Steward's Mate Apron be moved with me as well, as counsel."

Looking over his shoulder, Ivory spied Butter's eyes widened in shock, clearly still processing the Admiral's words along with Ivory's.

Fortunately, the Admiral seemed to be unable to care less, "That's fine. You will report to the library and find all relevant reading material to refresh yourself. You will permanently requisition this material into your personal effects, as you will take it with you when travelling to land."

"I am also bestowing a field promotion onto you. You are now rated Ensign under the title Civil Occupation Advisor. Your counsel will remain the same rank. Start calling Mr Apron by an appropriate title, and I'm sure the name will catch on," leaving no time for the two to process their promotions, the Admiral turned face and stepped back through the door, only pausing to add, "Somepony will be down to tell you when you're leaving."

"Are yous even allowed to jus' rate somepony as a commissioned officer like that?" Butter Apron commented, incredulous.

"I appear to be the last surviving member of the Admiralty. As far as this ship is concerned, I'm Princess Luna. It's about time I started acting like it," Azure Bluette cracked a slight smile, turning around and drawing the door shut behind her.

A fluorescent light buzzed softly in the roof of the office. A vent fan placed in a duct nearby whirred, spinning and sending out a base rhythm throughout the room. A false window lined the rear wall, showing cinemagraph of Cloudsdale during peak traffic hours. Books lined a shelf near the wall, sitting right next to a vintage, signed Wonderbolts poster.

Lightning Bringer tapped the butt of her pen rhythmically on her desk to the beat of the vent fan, staring across deep into Ice Slushee's eyes. The commander leaned forward, her left forehoof holding the pen while her right was primed in the perfect position to push herself upwards if a better yelling position was needed. Ice, though, leaned backwards in her seat, trying to make herself a small as possible.

"You are identified as one of the primary conspirators in the unauthorized attack against the Stable 83, Corporal. Is this true?" Lightning Bringer asked, voice colder than the other mare's namesake.

Swallowing, Ice nodded, "...Yes."

"What was your role in this event?"

"I deactivated the sensing equipment that could allow Command to stop us from completing our objective. I also partook in the combat as ordered by my squadron leader."

"And what was your objective, Corporal?"

"...To neutralize the insurgent camp at Stable 83," Ice admitted, tipping her head slightly.

Lightning Bringer's gaze didn't let up, "And were you ordered to execute this objective by your commanding officer?"

"No ma'am."

"Do you happen to understand what this means under the Uniform Code of Military Justice?"

Ice's muzzle twitched. She forced her eyes upwards to meet Lightning's as she confirmed, "Insubordination."

"Insu-fucking-bordination. If this were the first ten years of the war, you could get hung for that kind of offense," Lightning Bringer spat, rising from her seat to rear up onto the desk and loom over her, "You compromised the integrity of this vessel by starting a war. This army invested three years into the service of Lead Syringe, and because of your actions we had to bury him this morning. You are a disgrace to him, to your country, and to your Ministry."

Ice grit her teeth, "...Syringe agreed to the op. We all knew what we were getting into."

"I'm not sure you did," Lightning's flank slammed back down into her seat as she crossed her forelegs. She remained leaned forward, invading Ice's bubble as closely as possible, "You and your team were made fully aware of the danger intervention posed to our strategic position. I placed my trust in you and your teammates to follow orders, like you always have!"

Ice Slushee, logical thought overcome, rolled her muzzle into a scowl. Her forelegs tightened around each other as they crossed, and she bit back, "Bullshit! You told us to stand by while civilians were being leashed and dragged off! You didn't fucking know it was strategically-fucking-significant. In fact, if we'd just opened up right there, none of this would've happened!" as soon as she spat the final words, the wind fell out of her wings. She swallowed, cowering back slightly from her CO.

Lightning Bringer, surprisingly, failed to immediately talk back. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, "You done?"

Ice opened her mouth, yet nothing came to mind. She shut her muzzle again and averted her eyes.

"What is the modus operandi of the Ministry of Awesome, corporal?" Lightning queried, picking up her pen and going back to clicking it.

"Take flight in the shadows to show others the sun," Ice muttered, eyes fixed firmly downwards to one of the legs of the desk.

"We aren't holy crusaders here, Ice. We're feared because we don't do the 'right thing'. We choose the greater good over ourselves every Single. Goddamn. Time," Lightning accentuated her last three words with clicks from her pen. When Ice failed to respond in the silence that followed, the commander sighed, "On the 2nd, a lack of respect for the chain of command caused a premature confrontation with the Survivors. We lost a total of thirty soldiers because of your fuckery, and even more civilians. If this were any other situation, I'd have your armor."

Ice hung her head.

Lightning continued to tap her pen. Through Ice's periphery, she could see her still glaring at her, "Now you're missing-mare, training a replacement will take years," Lightning Bringer sighed, looking down at the papers arrayed in front of her, "I know what you were thinking when you decided to defy your creed and country. You were thinking you were immune from punishment, just 'cause we might be unable to afford dismissing you."

The younger mare's heart began to race. She knew her sentence was about to be read, she just hoped it was as merciful as she believed it would be.

Lightning Bringer let the silence drag out, allowing her subordinate to squirm before she finally spoke again, "If you're going to act like a fresh recruit, I believe you should be disciplined like one too. I've arranged kitchen patrol for you and your lot, replacing all of your leisure time. It will last until I believe you've learned to act like special forces."

Another pause, before Lightning clicked her pen one more time, "Dismissed."

In the main building of the Blueblood Army Academy, there was an auditorium. It used to have been a grand hall, used for paper examinations and speeches, as evidenced by the rows of floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched across one side of it. A raised platform sat at one end, where a speaker would have been given a place to address their trainees and subordinates.

Now, though, where there were classroom desks there were now heavy work tables. Where there were windows, there was now wooden boards blotting out the view of the outside. Where there used to be instructors, there was now a grand desk and a heavily robed Senior Scribe, looking down her muzzle upon her juniors as they worked on their assigned projects.

Said projects were varied and unique. An old hoof-dryer was slowly being deconstructed for every last wire and screw. Useless, low-grade laser pistons were being deconstructed for their valuable spell matrices. The lucky Junior Scribes, who were favored in the eyes of their elders, were given more complicated projects. Old vehicle engines, broken terminals, simple fixes on actual laser weaponry, and one lucky bloke even managed to get entrusted with a PipBuck. Initiate Scribes, barred from touching valuable technology, bustled between work stations, assisting their seniors however they could and carrying trays of supplies and tools between desks.

Summer Fruit felt rather out of place, trotting briskly into the room. Where every single mare and stallion of post-war science wore silky, draping grey robes with the symbol of the Ministry of Wartime Technology, she wore a blue Navy-coded MAS uniform. She attracted eyes and whispers, brought to a sudden stop by the slam of a hoof from the Senior Scribe at the head of the room, causing all to snap back to their projects.

Summer Fruit kept her eyes on the prize: a tool cabinet along the left wall of the room. She had been told it contained a set of cutter lenses of a certain fidelity that she needed for a job. Yet, as she opened the cabinet, retrieved the desired tool, and turned to leave, a whispered voice came to her over the sound of power tools and machinery.

"Psst, Doctor!" said the voice, which Summer recognized as belonging to Junior Scribe Star Spark. The cream white unicorn stallion had been allotted to her as an assistant in the past.

Turning, Summer Fruit found him sitting at a nearby work station, an old military-grade spell matrix sitting in front of him. Giving a side-eye towards the head of the room, where the senior scribe looked down to her own work, Summer stepped forward towards his station, "Yes?"

"Could you give me some aid?" the young Scribe asked, using the formal, tense voice him and his brethren only used when speaking to a superior.

"Sure. Whaddya need?" she asked, walking over and placing a foreleg on the back of his chair, leaning over to examine his work.

"The probe, it-" the scribe held up a long, thin piece of metal connected to a cable that snaked underneath the table, "It keeps coming back negative, even though the matrix is energized and running."

"Well if the probe isn't giving a signal, then it's not running," Summer Fruit assessed. A strange feeling suddenly came over her as she glanced around the room. For a moment, she was taken back to her Thaumotechnics Foundations class back in college. A similarly sneering professor loomed over the lab while students, Summer included, slaved away at blank talismans and matrixes. To ask for help was to invite scorn, yet a completed product was worth half the grade.

Summer shivered.

"I-I'm sorry. I will investigate why it's not running, my apologies for taking up your time," Star Spark bowed his head, placing the probe down and energizing his horn again.

"N-No," Summer immediately retorted, perhaps a bit too loudly as other ears flicked in her direction, "No. No problem. You know, seven years ago or so I was doing something similar to this?"

"Huh?" Star Spark asked, releasing the energy in his horn and looking towards her.

"Yeah. I was in college in Canterlot, studying Thaumotechnics. They made me construct a matrix and a talisman from scratch," Summer Fruit lowered her voice, humor pulling at her lips, "I was terrible at it. I nearly flunked."

"Yet you are a master now. In only seven years, you know more than I ever will about..." he gave a vague gesture towards the matrix, "This."

"That's not true," Summer grimaced, before wiggling her hoof at the head of the room, "You guys aren't dumb. It's brilliant that you've managed to do all this with so little, just... maybe you're missing out on some fundamentals?"

Star Spark seemed to swell a bit with the praise, but still asked, "What are we missing out on?"

"I've observed your curriculum quite a bit since coming here. I've not really seen any teaching about observing phenomena, physics, or high theory," Summer observed, scratching her chin, "I expect that might be why you haven't really built anything... new, aside from that generator. Even that's a few decades old by now though."

Star Spark simply shrugged, "A lot of our training is apprenticeship. It tends to not leave a lot of room for airy, sophisticated theory work. Besides, old world technology almost invariably works better than any scrappy, craft-made gun does made today," a beat, "No offense, madam. I understand we came from very different learning cultures."

"No offense taken," Summer muttered, looking back down at the matrix, gears turning in her head, "...Hey, tell me- how do you think you and your friends would feel about taking some classes from me and the rest of the specialists? Like, just some short ones after duty hours?"

His eyes lit up, "You'd do that? I- I mean, I believe you could even teach the master Scribe a thing or two!"

Summer Fruit smiled at his enthusiasm, "Yeah. I think it'd be fun. Meet me by the Vertibucks tomorrow night, and bring whoever you want along. And..." she reached over to tap the matrix, "If you can't figure out how to fix this today, bring it along as well."

That evening, the flight deck became massively crowded. Pegasi flew over the sides and above it, making room for the earthbound to crowd aboard the deck. Sailors from almost every single department aboard represented themselves, leaving only those who could not safely fit above or safely leave their stations down below in the berths and compartments. Even wastelanders from Sunset Town, curious at the sight of the gathering sailors, paused their work to gaze upon the vessel.

By the superstructure, below the billowing ensign of the Equestrian Diarchy and the Navy, a space had been cleared by the Marines. A makeshift podium had been set up, sound equipment having been hauled out and connected to the ship's PA. The Admiral adjusted the starched collar of her dress uniform as she strolled out from the hatch and onto the flight deck. Eyes followed her as she strode confidently towards the stage, eyes shielded by the visor of her cap and muzzle held high.

A technician started the speakers with a whine as the Admiral took the stage. To her side, Captain Anchor stood at attention. Any murmuring amongst the crowd died down. It was her time, she had no notes. She'd never needed them.

"Ladies and gentlecolts of the Indefatigable," her voice boomed across the deck and across the water, "Ever since October, many of us have felt cast adrift. We wonder what terrible luck has put us in a position to watch our country and our loved ones die. And even I must admit, it is foul luck indeed. However, if any of us wanted good luck and smooth sailing, they should've gone and joined the air force!"

A wave of laughter broke out from those gathered on the deck.

"When Princess Celestia, with her ancient wisdom, made a force to guard the coasts of her burgeoning kingdom, she set a precedent. When Captain Pan Cook sailed the ocean and left the safety of clear skies and summer days, with nothing but flapping canvas and a wooden hull facing fearful odds and stormy weather, he set the stage for us. When Admiral Keel faced the combined Griffon Fleets at the great battle of the Foalfalgar, she charged full bore into the enemy and won us a country to fight for! Every day, we lived our lives in the shadows of those giants, reaping the fruits of what they bestowed upon us: liberty, strength, and courage.

"Today again, we face uncertain, fearful odds. We are stripped of our resources, of our world, and we are surrounded by potential enemies. All of this is true, yet I have heard a lie being propagated around this ship that I wish to clear up here and now!" Azure cleared her throat. This was the important part.

"Many say, the biggest thing we lack is a reason to go on. This is a myth, a lie, a farce of our own invention! Some may ask, 'Where are our loved ones'?" she gazed around the flight deck, "I see them right here. Each other, our brethren-in-arms. Where is our country?" she raised a hoof towards land, "Where is our countryponies?" she kept her hoof in the same position, "Right there, watching us and waiting. Finally, where is our purpose?" she cracked a smile.

"Our purpose is the same purpose that Keel felt. The same purpose that Cook felt. The same purpose that Celestia herself felt. We are entrusted with the toughest storms and the most harrowing odds, to serve our country and to serve it well. And though there may be a critical lack of ice creams and sugary cereals, our country still lives on. One day, there will be ice cream and sugary cereals for our children to eat."

Muzzles firmed, heads nodded, necks craned, lips came together in firm lines. The rush propelled the Admiral into the final act of her speech.

"Some day in the future, ponies will remember the Endeavour and the Victory. But, most significantly of all, they'll remember the name of this ship!" she gave a glance towards the Captain, who held his nose high beside her.

"Captain Anchor!" she shouted.

"YES MA'AM!?" the Captain projected his voice well, the sound throwing itself through the crowd, despite the microphone being unable to catch it.

"You're aware of the name of this ship, aren't you Captain?"

"VERY AWARE, MA'AM!"

"It bears a very proud name, doesn't it, Captain?"

"VERY PROUD, MA'AM!"

Raising her voice as well as she got into the final tempo, she continued, "It represents very fine sailors of an equally fine flagship, doesn't it?"

"VERY FINE, MA'AM!" the Captain's lips turned upwards.

"They live in the best country in the entire world, don't they!?"

"THE VERY BEST, MA'AM!"

"And what is that name, Captain Anchor?"

"IN-DE-FATIGABLE, MA'AM!"

"And what is that ship's motto?"

Together, every voice upon the flight deck echoed the same phrase, "Ever Indy, never ending!"

"Dismiss the crew!" the Admiral ordered, stepping away from the podium.

A shrill whistle blew through the air as the boatswain complied. The crowd began to disperse with renewed energy. All around the Las Pegasus Wasteland, in the occupied settlements, flags were raised and unfurled. It had begun.

Author's Note

Sorry for the very long wait between releases! I've finally come to the other end of exam season, and can start dedicating more time to writing.

I wanted to make sure War was published before I got too busy, as it was meant to be the climactic end to the first act. This is more of a return to normal as we get into the second act!