October 30, 1007 - Mission Day 20

Just as Lightning Bringer had predicted, just hours after the meeting had concluded, a huge sheet of clouds rolled out over the distant mainland. Wind picked up and waves rose to levels where even the Indefatigable began to sway slightly. The sun disappeared, and so did the flashes of light on the horizon. For only a moment, one could see the stars above the ship, before they too were blotted out. The escort destroyers disappeared as well, the formation opening up as they sailed off to a safe distance, disappearing over the horizon. The ship's shields were deactivated shortly after and battlestations ended along with it.

The sortied airplanes came back to land that night. As soon as they were lowered back into the hangar, the flight crew and the recon pegasi returned back below deck. The hatches to the weather deck were padlocked shut soon afterwards. Rangers watched the stairwells leading up into the superstructure, both to prevent crew from going outside and from anypony reaching the bridges.

Engines were reduced to a quarter power, to conserve the destroyer's fuel. As they had observed their original destination getting struck with a balefire bomb, they instead sought towards an uninhabited sandbar back east, towards the mainland. There, they could anchor and wait for their next move.

The next day, ash began to drift down from the sky. Falling with the westerly wind, now pushing over the bow, dust plastered the vessel's flight deck and superstructure. An alarm in the command centers blared, warning about dangerous radiation levels on the weather decks. All the crew could do was silence them and activate wipers, brushing the thick, pasty substance off of the windows to maintain visibility.

The sky grew an angry green overhead. The temperature skyrocketed, to the point where touching the plating where the secondary hull met the interior compartments could scald the hoof. The air intakes were temporarily sealed as Ship Right's team worked double watches to assemble contaminant filters down in the ship's workshops and install them in the ventilation systems. Stale, generated oxygen flowed from room to room, kept only barely livable by a labored air conditioning system.

Nowhere was the temperature more insufferable than the kitchen. Stoves sizzling, ovens humming, and fryers bubbling made the air sweltering. To compensate for this, there was laxity offered on how much one needed to wear to work. Most took off their uniforms completely, save their mane and tail nets.

Ivory Heart showed up in full uniform, and though it was now completely soaked through with sweat, every stripe he showed in public gnawed into the back of his mind. His knife came down on carrot after carrot, for the night's casserole.

Members of the ship's military police watched from the corners of the kitchen, charged with ensuring the cooks weren't sneaking snacks for themselves outside of their assigned rations. Every time Ivory looked away from his work, at least one of the officers was looking straight back at him.

Brush with the knife into the bin, pull out the next carrot.

"Hey, Stripe," came a voice from the other side of the counter.

His eyes travelled upwards. Who else could they be talking to?

A yellow earth pony stallion, in just his mane and tail net. A half-finished pot of mashed potatoes sat in front of him. He narrowed his eyes, "If you was a spy, would you tell us? Now that you gone ahead and blown up the world n'all."

Ivory didn't twitch, and simply looked back down at his chopping board. After a moment, he simply shrugged, "Would you tell me if you were a Ministry of Morale Officer, now that you've also gone ahead and blown up the world?"

"Hmmph," he nodded, pushing his masher back down into the pot of potatoes, "Guess das fair. De deck crew sayin' you guys still shot first."

Ivory shrugged, "Would not put it past them... the Zebras, that is. But I do not know, neither does the deck crew for sure, the only ponies on this ship who might know is the Admiral... or maybe the Captain."

"Where'd yous get that accent?" the stallion nodded towards him, looking inquisitively down his muzzle.

"Zebratown is in Canterlot, sir," Ivory grunted, looking up towards him tiredly, "A lot of ponies seem to forget that."

The earth pony took a knife, slicing through a brick of butter and dumping the half-melted bar into his bowl. Then, after grabbing a spoon, he began to mix, saying, "How'd yous end up with the Navy, den?"

Ivory chuckled, "If I'm gonna tell you my life story, I'm gonna at least need your name."

"Butter Apron," the stallion nodded, "Hows about you?"

"Ivory Heart," another swipe with his knife into the bin, "I was a law student. Passed the bar and scored a lucky job at a law firm in the upper city," he recited from memory with a heavy sigh, "I fell in love with one of the boss's daughters. She went back to college and got an education degree..." he trailed off for a moment, before finishing, "And she got that teaching job."

"So?" Butter raised an eyebrow.

"The teaching job was at a place called Luna's School for Gifted Unicorns," Ivory gave him a mirthless smile, finally looking up to make eye contact.

Butter pursed his lips, "My condolences."

"They banned Zebras from the Army. They never got rid of them from the Navy. Nopony cares about the Navy. I've been Cook's Mate ever since enlisting," Ivory finished, reaching to take another carrot from the bag before he nodded towards Butter again, "How long you been a Pink?"

Butter gave him a queer look, "I ain't a Pink."

"I have run into plenty of Pinks during my time, sir. Nopony other than the Pinks pay this much attention to me," Ivory shook his head, disappointed, "So, how long?"

"I. Ain't. A. Pink," Butter scowled, "I tries to avoid this war as long as possible. But then the money gets rough. So I go into the military into the place least likely to get me killed. Looks like I was right," he gave a bitter snort, grabbing a dishtowel hanging on a nearby pot handle and wiping his forehead.

"Sure," Ivory Heart sighed, wiping the edge of his knife on the side of the bin before grabbing yet another carrot, "Well, since you are not a Pink, I will exercise my right to remain silent."

"Oi! I'm just trying to be friendly," Butter frowned, "Didn't you hears the Captain? Gotta keep it light."

Ivory narrowed his eyes at him, before chuckling, "Look around you, buck. The world just ended, and we're in a giant coffin. Four thousand ponies aboard, much less food. What are we gonna do? Farm the flight deck? Even then, what's gonna be the point? No family, no country, no more world," he shook his head as he lofted his knife and wiggled its tip at him, "All that is left to do is to work up the courage to take a knife to the bathroom and get out easy."

Butter Apron's forehead furrowed, "What a ray of sunshine yous are."

"Yeah? Well what is your grand reason to keep going?" Ivory muttered, looking back down to his half-chopped carrot.

"I'd rather not dies bleeding like a pig while sitting on the shitter," Butter sneered, "Sides. What if things turn around? What if yous is wrong?"

"How would things turn around?" Ivory hissed, leaning forward as the tempo of his carrot-chopping increased, "Let us say we are not being served to the wardroom in cuts by the Gutsies by January. What are we gonna do then?"

Butter paused, eyeing the stations neighboring them, where a few quirked eyebrows and glances were being given towards them. With a snort, the stallion shook his head and said, "Maybe yous is right. Maybe we stand no chance. Right now, we stands a chance if we sticks together. If everypony thinks like yous, all we gonna do is mope. If wes mope, we got no chance at all."

Ivory stayed silent, staring at him for a moment as his hooves worked on autopilot, dicing his carrot, "I dunno. I am not entirely sure I can name anything ponies have done for me."

Butter paused, opening his mouth to say something. Before he could, though, Ivory let out a hiss as as his knife plunged straight into his misplaced left forehoof. Swearing, Ivory wrang out his hoof as blood quickly gushed from the open wound, which he instinctively brought to his mouth.

"Shit. Let's get yous to the aid station," Butter said, stepping back from his station, only to be waved off.

"I can walk there just fine, thank you," Ivory insisted, putting his hoof back on the ground and beginning to walk for the exit, limping all the way.

Butter hesitated, looking between his station and the limping zebra. Eventually, with a sigh, he moved back to his pot, muscles flexing as the spoon worked its way through the thick mash.

The next day, it was announced that Nightmare Night celebrations would proceed as usual. What counted as 'celebration' in the service was a dessert menu of pumpkin pie, a ration of traditional Nightmare Night candies, and ice cream.

Ice Slushee sighed as she spied the single slice of pie sitting on the mess hall platters, the plastic carved pumpkin filled with a hoofful of treats, and the pre-scooped paper plates of ice cream each pony was allowed. Sure, it was probably the normal amount one could get on a normal holiday in the service, but to see it so strictly rationed just made it feel more depressing than usual.

Carrying her platter on her back towards the corner of the hall, she arrived at the table always quickly claimed by the members of the 51st.

Sugar was uncharacteristically poking her pie with her plastic fork, not a single bite taken yet. Crystal Trail was eating steadily, although every swallow seemed labored. Shot Stack was staring into an opened bottle of Sparkle-Cola on his table, eyes blank. Radio Whistle was sipping from a bowl of ice cream soup, melted by the rising interior temperatures. Spear Bash was staring into her meal as ice cream melted on top of the slice of pumpkin pie. Pouncer Chase was eating slowly, a plastic covering over her mane and tail as a new dye job shone through. Hay Weave somehow had two servings of vegetable stew, though the absence of her pie probably explained it. Lead Syringe was examining his forkful of crisped hay strips under the light as if it was a bleeding artery. Waffle Cone looked nervously towards Spear Bash, before pushing his serving of pie towards her, only for it to be pushed back and his ears to fall immediately.

"Well we're all rays of sunshine tonight, aren't we?" Slushee muttered, placing her tray down and sitting down at the last remaining space at the table.

Pouncer rolled her eyes, "Shut up, Slushee."

"Eeyup," Hay Weave muttered.

Lead Syringe chuckled mirthlessly, "I'm certainly in the mood for sunshine. Unfortunately, there's no more of that up there."

Shot Stack leaned back into his chair, turning his bottle of Sparkle Cola around in his hoof, "You know, this was the third to last bottle in the machine? How many refills you think they got?"

Slushee snorted, "Really, Stack? Sparkle-Cola's what's getting you?"

"Yeah. Yeah it's what's getting to me," Shot Stack shook his head.

Slushee winced, looking around for a moment. The usual chatter that filled the mess hall was completely absent. From what bits and pieces of conversation she could hear, it was all about the end of the world. More of the same that they talked about yesterday, just said in lower voices and by fewer. Ears flattened, the clatter of cutlery was at a slow, steady tempo rather than sounding like a box of porcelain and silver being swung in the Dizzotron.

Looking back towards her teammates, Slushee set her jaw, "So, how are we getting out of this one?"

Shot Stack heaved a deep sigh. Crystal Trail looked up towards her. Ears flicked, but no other answer came.

Slushee faced the frogs her forehooves outwards, "C'mon, this all doesn't seem mighty fucking familiar to you all?" she squeaked her chair forward, tapping a right forehoof on the table, "Waffle Cone's dying in the foxhole? Spear's keeping his blood in by holding an artery shut? Lead Syringe is sewing Sarge's leg back on? 15% on our cells, less than fifty shots each? I just got a bullet casually sitting in my shoulder and Hay Weave's suit is covered in napalm and burning her to death?" she let her hoof fall back on the table with a punctuating thunk.

Radio Whistle added, "They got a whole division about to walk into fog traps behind us and we can't get the message through."

"We were fucked. Fifteen ways from Sunday," Slushee reinforced, "But Sarge tells us, as she's screaming in pain from her stump leg, that we aren't dead. That we got them on the ropes. Then she kicks Doc in the face with her own missing leg, and charges up over the side."

Lead Syringe chuckled, lowering his fork, "The heat from the flamethrower tank cauterized the wound."

"Then I tie Cone's own hoof to his neck and lift him on my back while he single-hoofs an MAS-102 laser rifle with busted hydraulic system and fifty KGs of steel plate weighing it down. With half the Zebra army on our tails, we reach that Vertibuck and extract, ride home to our medals, then go right back into the action as soon as Sarge got her new leg," Slushee slapped the tabletop again, "Shit. I knew what we were all thinking to ourselves: "We're just normal ponies with fancy armor, we're gonna die out there". But we didn't."

She leaned back in her seat, glancing between her squadmates before shrugging, "I don't see why it's different now. I certainly can't fucking see a way outta here, but we're all giving up already. Are we just so badass that if it doesn't involve getting limbs shot off by Stripes that it's a lost cause?"

"We're a team, always have been. Even if there's nobody left to write our obituaries, I don't want to give the world the pleasure of knowing we fucking lay down and gave up, 'specially after how many times the world's fucked us," she concluded.

Crystal Trail nodded slowly, "She's right. We're all suffering, but we're all family. I've done more for all of you than my ma ever did."

Shot Stack raised his Sparkle-Cola to his lips, taking a sip, before lowering it and saying, "Okay, team, what are we doing then? Sitting on our hooves until we starve?"

"We're doing what we're ordered by the chain of command," Crystal Trail said, giving him a sharp look, "I won't take talk of insubordination, even after the apocalypse, private."

Shot Stack chuckled, raising his bottle again, "Yes ma'am."

Slushee nodded, satisfied as she saw the rest of her squad finally begin to dig in with a bit more enthusiasm. Picking up her own fork and rooting through her own meal for a first bite, she stuffed a single forkful into her mouth before the ship's speakers came live.

A whistle came through, starting low, going high, before going low again.

"Shit, don't tell me-" Hay Weave started.

DONG DONG DONG DONG DONG!

Wearily but without question, the 51st shoved back their chairs to get up. The entire mess hall leapt to their hooves as the general alarm flooded the ship. Soon after, the announcement came through.

"General quarters, general quarters! All hooves to your battlestations! Set condition one throughout the ship. Up and forward make your starboard side, down and aft make your port side! Reason for general quarters: Unknown airborne contact! General quarters, general quarters!"

Captain Anchor stormed onto the bridge, adjusting his cap, "What's going on? Missile?"

"No. Too big. Could be a dragon or maybe a cloudship. Eighty degrees off the port side," Calm Seas reported, "In our situation we couldn't be too sure."

"We're unable to get a proper target identification because of all this ash," the officer standing at the sensor station said over his shoulder, before looking back to the instruments.

"Constellation is reporting a similar RADAR signal but is unable to acquire a visual or IDENT," the radio operator added.

"Mhm," Anchor grunted, picking up a pair of binoculars and going up to the windows. The wipers worked furiously, but a thick layer of black ash constantly flurried from the sky, "Zero fucking visibility," he spat, before looking over his shoulder at Ship Right, "Shields?"

"They're being primed now, sir," Ship Right nodded.

Summer Fruit ran back to her station as the general alarm blared, forsaking her mug inside of the coffee maker. One of the two seats in front of the grid terminal was occupied by her junior technician, whose hooves flew across the controls.

"Full power?" Summer quickly asked, landing back into her seat and putting on her headset.

"Full power, yes ma'am!" she answered with a rapid nod.

The Scope - a rounded screen in the middle of the control terminal, showed the wavelengths of the main filament harmonics - the conduit through which magical energy was pushed and transmutated into the desired spells. A long, blue wave pulsed slowly, a purple wave oscillated rapidly, and a red wave below it being the middle of the two. Numbers flicked up rapidly alongside the scope, showing the primary generators for the Sunrise Shield System powering up.

The microphone on her headset was flicked down and a button near her right ear was depressed, "Spark Harmonics to Bridge, shield is powering now. Systems nominal," Summer reported.

"Affirmative, Spark Harmonics," came Ship Right's voice over the headset.

"Uhh, Summer?" her junior suddenly piped up, "We have an oscillating power spike on the stage 2 emitters."

Summer's eyes followed hers up towards a screen showing the individual capacitors for each section of the Sunrise projector. A red light flashed next to one of the values as it moved past its safe limit. Reaching for her headset again, she advised her junior, "Pop the breaker on that one. Might just be a short."

Dutifully, the technician reached up and pressed a button next to it as Summer reported, "Harmonics to Bridge. Unidentified power fluctuations. Bootup proceeding..." her words died in her mouth as her forehead wrinkled.

Her eyes darted around the displays. A Hearth's Warming Tree's worth of red lights suddenly flashed on next to the system capacitors. A master alarm began to blare on her console, next to another buzzing alarm warning about an overvolt.

"We are experiencing a cascading overvolt, standby," Summer said, releasing her headset and rapidly typing at her computer. Giving a single glance towards her junior, she hissed, "What the FUCK did you do?"

"I pressed the button and then everything spiked!" the mare said, wide eyes glancing around as power levels continued to climb, "Is it a short?"

"In every single array at once?" Summer shook her head, before reaching up and pressing her headset switch, "Harmonics to Bridge. Advising immediate shutdown. We have an uncontrolled spike in all arrays."

"Across all arrays? We can't shut down now, they're right on top of us!"

"This could seriously damage the whole projector, sir! Not just a few arrays, the whole smack!" Summer shouted, her horn glowing as she rapidly inputted instructions for her terminal to map the state of the shield projector. Work the problem.

"Five thousand gigathaums!" the junior said, watching the numbers continuing to climb.

"Harmonics is advising an immediate shutdown of the Sunrise," Ship Right suddenly spoke up from his station, "There's an ongoing fault that is threatening the stability of the entire system."

"Permission denied, that contact could be carrying a Balefire Bomb for all we know! Tell them to work the problem, I'd rather risk the projector than the ship," Anchor gritted his teeth.

"Could this be a caution and warning failure, Harmonics?"

Summer shook her head, despite the fact that Ship Right couldn't see her gesture. Her terminal whirred as it began to display a 3D model of the ship, with a bubble grid around it. Like it had been since they changed the array settings, two secondary fields, both shaped like interlocking pyramids, helped channel energy from the main projector into the actual shield bubble. However, for some reason, the bubble wasn't receiving power.

"Ten thousand gigathaums!" came another warning.

"Harmonics to Bridge, I once again advise an emergency shutdown of the Sunrise!" Summer repeated, heart thundering in her ears.

"What's causing the problem?"

"Unknown!" Summer practically screamed, moving to her second terminal and began punching in queries directly to the Sunrise maneframe.

"Fifteen thousand gigathaums!"

The lights began to flicker above. A red alarm light began to cycle at the back of the room. Technicians from other stations began to flood around, leaning over her seat as she worked.

"It's not a short. It's not a shield configuration error. Power is rising within the chamber and not being discharged into the primary hardlight layer..." Summer muttered to herself.

"Harmonics, do we have a workable solution at this time!?"

"Captain! Thermal signature detected!" the infrared signals officer bellowed, "Congruent with a missile launch!"

"Canvassing that signature!" the defense grid operator shouted in return. Outside, pink flashes of light came from the laser turrets, aimed skywards.

"Where is our shields, Mr Right!?" Anchor whirled.

Ship Right swallowed as an alarm began to blare from the sensor center. She looked down to her own instruments as warnings about overvoltage in the Sunrise emitter met her eyes as well.

"Twenty thousand!" the junior technician screamed.

Summer blinked, before grabbing at her headset again, "The fault may be a depolarization of the director matri!. I can try to re-magnetize the primary impulsor, but it's really really really super not designed to do that during live operation!"

"Do it! We have a missile launch! Now now!"

Summer hammered in the command into the terminal. Her magic smashed the 'ENTER' key. There was no further query from the maneframe as it executed her orders.

In the Sunrise chamber, supercapacity gemstones glowed a blinding white. The steel cladding of the chamber walls melted in great circles around each gemstone. The energy inside, desperate to escape, arced to other gemstones, to the walls of the chamber, and into the electric lamps hanging above - which exploded in a shower of sparks. At the center of the projector, directly in the middle of the Indefatigable, a huge thaumomagnet directed the naturally chaotic aetheric energies.

Responding to the maneframe's task, two huge energizer rods mounted to either side of the thaumomagnet arced purple energy into it, switching the polarity of the Sunrise Projector.

All at once, every capacitor instantly discharged. Lightning flashed across the hull of the ship and into the eyes of the bridge crew. Aboard the HMS Victory, Hoof, Constellation, and Seaward Shoals, the Indefatigable disappeared by the next time their RADAR dishes swept towards its last known position.

Author's Note

I do not apologize for the egregious amounts of technobabble :p