Ponies, cannons, and war

Just as the first golden rays of dawn begin to bloom out to sea, I behold the devastation which occurred on the waters here.

Atop the light chop, bob innumerable shards of debris. Wood, cork, foam. Whatever pieces of a ship, when shredded down to pieces no more than a foot in any dimension which might still float can be seen here. And the bodies… There were so many bodies.

I shake my head, attempting to rid myself of that vision. Off in the distance, in open waters, was a single steam corvette, battered, broken, but still nevertheless alive floats motionless in the water. Another of those damnable enemy ships circle her, pumping half-hearted tertiary shot after half-hearted shot into her.

Looked like an Andrea Doria class battleship, before the reconstruction.

“Leave her alone!”

The battleship lethargically turned its guns to bear on me.

My own, though, are faster. I fire, all twelve shells of my salvo striking true upon her flank.

After two more salvos the final battleship, who offered a few sporadic return shots which didn't do much damage at all, was quickly consigned to Davy Jones's locker.

The action didn't last for more than a couple minutes. If its design was adopted from the Andrea Doria or the earlier Conte di Cavour class battleships, and the information in Brassey's Naval Annual was right, then its armor belt wouldn’t have been able to withstand hits from my fourteen inch guns.

On the horizon to the northeast, there's a formation of about a dozen ships. Looks like transports, and a few light escorts. They're retreating, but I could probably run down the transports…

No.

I'm needed here. There's people, ponies, in the water, and I don't think they'd survive long enough for me to go gallivanting off, and… whatever those ships had planned isn't happening anymore. That's the important part.

Nobody else needs to die today.

I cut my engines and went about throwing every life preserver I can at the ponies in the water. I can't help but notice that in the process each one seemed to grow until they were normal sized. As I go about rigging up my life boats, I look over to the battered hull of the only other vessel floating within eyeshot.

“Captain Stark Contrast, can you tell me just where in Tartarus our torpedo boats are?”

“Admiral Water Drops, our torpedo boats had just returned after an extensive training session southeast of Manehattan just before sunset. They were not in a position to detect or engage the enemy fleet, especially at night.” Stark Contrast tone was measured, though with a boiling rage just below the surface. “They’re taking on coal as of this moment and the order to raise steam has been given. They simply don’t have the endurance needed for both training and patrol duties. We need those cruisers.”

“And they won’t be ready until the steel plates have been delivered in two months and the decision is made on whether or not the new cruisers will be using steam turbines that need to be precisely machined or cheaper and easier to build triple expansion engines that the merchant fleet have been, apparently, using for decades.”

Silence gripped the room. Not only because none of the captains wished to back-talk the Admiral, but because she was right. It wasn’t fully realized that the time to produce each armour plate, from the casting of the ingot to the completion of the plate ready for fitting onto the ships, was three months, irrespective of size, and very many plates, totalling over 6000 tons of armour, were required for the new ships. Furthermore, steam turbine engines required very precise manufacturing techniques to machine their complicated reduction gears, and the companies capable of producing them were unprepared for the numbers that the Equestrian navy required. Therefore, a triple expansion steam engine was in competition to power the new ships because it was cheaper and easier to build in the numbers required for the navy, and because more companies could manufacture it.

Before Water Drops could continue a staffer burst into the room. "Ma’am." The young stallion forced out in between pants. "News from Bronclyn."

All present share a worried look, any offense taken at the intrusion gone. The attack on Bronclyn was, by all accounts, still ongoing.

“What is it?” Admiral Water Drops spoke for everyone.

“The enemy… has been repelled.” The staffer, still breathing heavily, snatched a piece of paper from his uniform pocket, brandishing it like a sword. “A royal guard reported sighting a shipmare engaging the enemy ships.”

Water Drops quickly took the sheet and read it. Dashes and dots followed by a translation. Obviously the message had been sent via the newly developed electrical telegraph system that had recently been developed in Manehattan. She ignored the intrusive thought to request that more of the sets and telephones be acquired for the navy along with seeing about making them wireless for shipboard operation. The princesses made sure to increase naval spending over the hemming and hawing of Canterlot’s elite.

“Captain Stark Contrast. Find her.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“So, what you’re telling me, is that you are the reincarnation of a United States Navy battleship. That is what you’re asking me to believe?”

"Got it in one, sir.”

“So, let's say you’re who you say you are. What do you want me to do about it?”

"I intend to tow your ship to the shipyard. That way, if those… things-" Despite my best efforts, I spit that last word out with enough venom to kill a cow. "-elect to come back, you need not worry about your command being shot out from under you."

"That sounds… acceptable." The Captain, a grizzled old bearded stallion by the name of Sea Salt, reported seemingly after some deliberation. "I'll send a pegasus to inform you when we're ready to accept the tow.

It took five minutes for Sea Salt’s men to rig up a tow and only a minute of deliberation to decide to wrap the line around my neck. Considering the state of the burough I decided to forego setting up a proper tow in favor of bringing Sea Salt’s ship, Highwind, to the drydock. It also didn’t help that I didn’t have any escorts to patrol for enemy submarines, if the enemy even had any in operation.

It wasn’t too much longer before we were entering the channel. Casting my eyes over to the shipyard, I saw, to my great satisfaction, a pair of ambulances on the pierside, lights flashing. In addition, there was about a dozen ponies milling around, though I can't exactly make out uniforms from this distance.

Luckily for my own sanity, there's a small crew waiting by the quayside, and so I drop the tow, allowing Highwind to coast to a stop, now safely within the breakwater, and ready to accept the mooring lines as Sea Salt’s crew throws them down, one by one.

Within a second of Highwind coming to a stop, the gangplank touches concrete, and the survivors begin filing down. Most walk on their own, while some require a shipmate under… foreleg.

I found one of the ladders present to facilitate ascent in case of a fall into the harbor or maintenance work under a hull and climbed up in a way that was distinctly human despite my lack of hands.

Down on the dock, two men wearing uniforms bearing HM3 insignia begin directing each patient to different areas.

"Ma'am." One of the corpsmen acknowledges me with a nod. "Is this everyone?"

I nod. "Yes, sir." I say, as an injured sailor was taken.

"They're doing pretty good, considering." He observes. "A couple fractures, lacerations."

“They're who I managed to pick out of the water." I look back to the now-dispersed group, as the few medics present begin to treat the worst-wounded. "I think the guys who got hurt worse… didn't make it that far."

"Ah." The corpsman says, realization crossing his eyes as a grimace creases his lips. "It's just- I was downtown when the shooting started, and it was… bad. I guess I was hoping for something to go right."

"Downtown got hit? How bad?" I ask, suddenly much more interested.

"There weren't many ponies out because of how early it was, but there's a bunch of collapsed buildings. Last I heard, ponies were getting pulled out, and there's a Royal Guard team coming down from Neighark."

Shit.

"I… think I need to go help." I say, confidence growing as the sentence continues.

I spin on my heel, just barely catching the corpsman looking towards me and staring slack-jawed at my guns.

"Petty officer." I annunciate, grabbing all the attention back for myself.

"Y-Yes, ma'am." The corpsman stutters, midway through regaining his senses.

"Will you require any further assistance from me?" I ask.

"N- no, ma'am." He stated, eyes locked straight forward.

"In that case, I will be taking my leave. Thank you for all your help, corpsman." I state, before turning on my heel, and walking the three steps to the water, and then over the side of the quay.

I found myself on the water, waves lapping upon my heels.

With a thought, I find my turbines revving, any myself steaming out from the dock.

Alone again, I finally find myself with a chance to figure out just what happened.

I was… I was trapped aboard my own hull as it fired on the city, talked with an ersatz Georgios Averof that shot me, and woke up as a pony with a facsimile of my guns and hull. Then I fired back against that cruiser, a scout cruiser that might have been British in design and an early German battlecruiser. I fought against an Italian battleship and brought in a ship crewed by talking ponies.

An otherwise fantastical dream, save for one crucial detail.

The screams of aircraft, the howl falling ordinance, and the tortured ends of my crew.

"Hey hey hey, hey?"

"Gah!" I exclaim, the new sound coming from within inches of my ear.

I whip around, looking for the source of the sound, until my eyes lock with a pair of small, beady, purple ones belonging to some sort of creature, standing on my shoulder.

"Bwah?" I burst, even louder than last time. I recoiled so hard I almost lost my footing.

The figure on my left shoulder is forced to take my collar by the fistful to prevent from falling to the water below.

"Hey hey hey heyhey?" The… creature snarls, summoning whatever vitriol it can, despite it's… proportions.

I take the advantage to look the newcomer up and down. It's... no. She is, perhaps, four inches tall, though about a quarter of that amount is due to her massive head. As for clothing, she's clad in a khaki flight-suit, with a large flying helmet, and goggles perched atop her large head.

Unbidden, a name comes to the forefront of my mind. I mean, I am a ship, after all. Whatever sparkly magic that's going on, I do still need a crew at the end of the day, right? At least, I assume so, right?

"Umm, sorry, Lieutenant. You, uhh, kind of surprised me, is all."

The creature, she, I suppose, harrumphed, continuing to give me a nasty look.

"You, uhh, wanted to tell me something?" I ask.

This seems to snap her from her reverie.

“Yeah! I wanted to tell you that the Kingfishers were ready to launch, and ask if you wanted a scout in the air!”

A scout, huh? Ignoring that I got all that despite hearing nothing but ‘Hey’, that's… not the worst idea I've ever heard of. An eye in the sky could pinpoint areas of significant damage, and maybe spot the enemy, if it tried another swing.

"I say, do it, Lieutenant. Do you know how long until you sortie?"

"About fifteen minutes, ma’am."

"I can work with that."

As I pass the remains of the cruiser that decided it was a good place to ambush me, I'm informed that the scout is finally ready to launch.

I'm alerted to a buzzing noise, the floatplane sitting on the catapult on the quarterdeck, its engine rumbling.

There's a resounding ‘Bang’, and a great deal of smoke begins wafting around.

I flinch.

...Oh yeah, I forgot my catapults were powered by a black powder charge. It's been a minute since I've done that.

The plane, for its part, starts a rather steep left turn to keep over the water, before beginning the process of laboriously clawing for altitude.

Though, I can't help but notice that in the process, it seems to… grow? I guess? Until it was normal-sized.

You know, what? I've seen and experienced so much weird stuff over the past hour or so, I'm not even going to question it. I just tack it on the end of the rapidly-growing "List of Things I Need To Figure Out Later".