Ponies, cannons, and war

A week. It took a week to find the residents of Trottingham, who evacuated to the cities of Shetland and Neighingham further inland, in order to bring them back to Trottingham and then process the woman and children who would be boarding the convoy bound for Manehattan. Despite the two cities being further inland, thus safe from the Morgana’s guns, the reason the women and children of Trottingham were being sent to Equestria proper was due to the fact that a growing amount of the Griffish Isles foodstuffs was being imported from Equestria. With the Morgan contesting the Celestial Sea the evacuation was being held to prevent the isles from starving while under siege from the Morgana. Shetland and Neighingham were already in the process of instituting a ration system and organizing a militia to fight off a possible naval invasion.

I didn’t think that was necessary until some of the residents of Trottingham and Clearwave’s pegasi pointed out some Morgana activity nearby Trottingham’s coastline. There were a few rudimentary structures-slabs of Morgana metal in the form of hangars full of materials-along with drums, piles of metal, ammunition and spare Morgana parts.

A terrible thought occurred to me and Fredericksburg when Snowstorm confirmed that the deforestation was in a mostly straight, flat line.

They were building a runway.

I didn’t have my hopes up. A battlecruiser, heavy cruiser and two destroyers was not a winning combination. Sure it was better than trying to solo a never ending horde of Morgana, but it was still giving me Force Z and Operation Ten-go vibes. Add in the fact that the Morgana were trying to bring in aircraft to Trottingham and my dread deepend. Even if more shipmares were to appear on our side and/or Equestrian shipbuilding had ramped up production, it wouldn’t matter if we lost control of the skies to Morgana aircraft. Hopefully there’d be some good news once we got back to Manehattan.

Naturally me, Frederick, and the destroyers, the newly named lead ship Castle and younger sister ship Thorn, were responsible for helping provide escort. Of course, Castle wasn’t eager to let her younger sister fight in a war, but I left that to Twilight. Couldn’t expect every human turned kanmusu to be so eager to fight zombie ghost ships I suppose. Hopefully we would get back to Manehattan without anyone getting shot at. While I was eager to start bullying Morgana heavy and light cruisers I wasn’t crazy enough to go out looking to fight Morgana capital ships more advanced than a pre-dreadnought.

Sure Hiei was crippled by shell hits from American cruisers, but I was designed to counter Kongo and her sisters. I’ve got all or nothing armor, my magazines were hidden away under my citadel. Morgana heavy and light cruisers and destroyers couldn’t penetrate my citadel and so long as I maintained distance from them then they couldn’t aim for my superstructure and other critical areas, like my rudder and propellers. I would be invincible! …as in powerful, not HMS Invincible who blew up at Jutland or the ersatz Invincible/Indefatigable class battlecruisers I and Frederick had shot up a fortnight ago.

Thankfully the trip back to Manehattan had been smooth sailing, no Panzerschiffes like last time or battleships/battlecruisers or whatever people wanted to call the 1930s Scharnhorst class. If there was a submarine lurking around then there wasn’t much I or anyone could do without sonar. Just another few hours and I’d finally be able to see Manehattan’s skyline.

“Chesapeake!”

I glanced upwards to a worried Snowstorm, her panicked cry snapping me back to reality.

“One of our pegasi patrols spotted a heavy mist rolling in from the north along with two large silhouettes within the mist. Another hour and it’ll be on top of us. Captain Summer Rain wants you to stop towing Clearwave and position yourself on our starboard along with Frederick.”

“Got it.” At my response she saluted and flew back towards Clearwave.

I immediately dropped the towing line and quickly linked up with a grim faced Frederick.

“You think it’s them?” She asked whilst trying to spot the mist that was over the horizon.

“Probably, last time a mist rolled in and disabled Clearwave’s crew. Then they attacked.” I replied.

“What can we expect then?”

“Just about anything really, although it’s mostly been cruisers.”

We sailed in silence as the mist slowly arrived. And from the way the winds picked up and the water got choppier even before the storm arrived it was going to be a rough one. The rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning within the mist didn't help either. If the last two times I had fought Morgana in the mists had told me anything then this wasn’t going to be good. Just what did the Morgana bring this time?

I saw a pair of sharp pointed bows just as I heard the sharp reports of naval cannons before I registered a dozen muzzle flashes. I and Frederick were bracketed by shells, columns of water being thrown up around us. The Morgana pair immediately began to turn to starboard, they’re intent to unleash broadsides on us was not lost.

Not even a minute passed before I and Frederick returned fire. Then, pandemonium. To my horror and shame, whatever ships those Morgana were they were quick to return fire and were quickly matching Frederick in rate of fire.

A veritable wall of steel was slamming into us.

I spotted the shell milliseconds before it struck my face.

Unbeknown to Chesapeake, the members of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns sent to study her were not trained in naval architecture. Thus, they had made an error in reading her primary design proposal that served as Chesapeake’s cutie mark. Whilst they assumed that her armor belt was six to eight inches thick, those numbers were from the line regarding Chesapeake’s draft or depth below the water line. Had they closely looked at the line and number below or the number on the shaded portion below her uptake protection then they would have come to the correct conclusion that Chesapeake’s armor belt was five inches thick. Three inches less than the Kongo’s at their thickest.

Chesapeake’s belt had never been meant to stop shell fire that heavy and it tore straight through, leaving a gaping wound, after shearing off a 5-inch gun, ammunition from a ready locker started to burn soon after. Continuing its relentless descent, the shell ripped through machinery spaces, leaving a ghastly trail of destruction. Fortunately, the shell failed to detonate, the only small mercy that kept Chesapeake alive. Another round blew her glasses off her face as it ripped the mainmast into nothing more than a memory of violent departure and broken metal, splinters of glass tearing across her nose and cheeks, though fortunately none went into her eyes. Another pair struck her superimposed turrets. One near B turret’s gunport and the other near X turret's barbette. A violent explosion blew the X turret apart as loaded powder was cooked off. One of the barrels was hurled so violently by the blast into the air that it crashed down halfway to Clearwave’s position. An 11” shell ripped the top half of her bow off in a messy burst of shredded armor and anchor chain.

Floundered, with a massive hole in her bottom, the cruiser slowed, beginning to tilt as water poured into her hull.

Twelve shells had been fired and half of them found their mark.

Chesapeake was dimly aware of her surroundings. Of the list to one side and of the loss in power as she slowly drifted out of formation in a blazing wreck. But then there was nothing but darkness.

Not far aft of the dark-haired cruiser, Frederick saw the smoke begin to rise, Chesapeake’s rigging shattered and on fire. Gritting her teeth, Frederick came up alongside the badly battered cruiser. Damage control crews raced across her decks, hoses readied, joining Chesapeake’s own fairies in battling the roaring fire before it reached a magazine.

“Castle! Thorn! Get over her and torpedo the Morgana!” She snapped, authority crackling in her voice.

Even as she burned, Chesapeake’s guns didn't stop firing. Her 5-inch guns laced the water with shells that hammered the lead Morgana’s superstructure and a pair of 4.1 inch guns with catastrophic violence as one of her shells slashed through the gun shields. Chesapeake’s remaining main guns, A and B turrets, thundered their own defiance at the Morgana. One shell managed to disable the lead Morgana’s A turret whilst another destroyed the main armament fire-control station, and knocked out the radar. Frederick, after unleashing her torpedoes, doubled back towards Chesapeake and fought to keep the burning cruiser upright.

A six inch shell slammed into her forward superstructure, exploding and scattering debris across her forward turrets, but though blood streamed down her cheek Frederick didn't make so much as a squeak. Instead, mouth set in a grim line, the cruiser kept up her fire, relentlessly hammering at the lead Morgana. Another shot slammed against her belt, cratering it but not penetrating, and a 11" shell tore her aft mast in two, leaving it to topple perilously against her smokestack before finally tumbling into the water, nearly pulling part of her lines with it. Salvo after salvo bellowed from her guns. A secondary was torn off the side of the ship, a backblast shaking the black-armored vessel as a six inch shell detonated in the barrel.

Castle and Thorn, having zoomed past the convoy, quickly launched their own torpedoes from their own three triple torpedo launchers. The Morgana, fearing the torpedo attack, turned back into the mist and flee the field. But not before a torpedo struck the lead Morgana, just near the rear gun turret.

They had driven off the enemy.

But at a cost.

When the Clearwave’s convoy, battered and slowed by wounds sustained from the battle, finally reached the shelter of Naval Base Manehattan, evening was falling, nearly a month since the first violent revelation of the existence of another power upon the Celestial Sea. The sun was low in the sky, highlighting the gentle drizzle, and as they stood sheltered under umbrellas by the pier, two princesses, two senior naval officers and a battleship stared at the transformation wrought upon her by battle damage from her last encounter with the Morgana hours before. The spectacle of her little flotilla had been arresting as well, the proud but battered sight of an antiquated heavy cruiser following sedately behind the Coast Guard cutter Washing leading the way into the harbor accompanied by a pair of destroyers before disappearing into the haze of the rain, somehow fading away just as the Chesapeake had done during her demonstration. Some trick of the light, the weather, or the special magic of the sea, and they were but a pair of fillies and a wounded mare climbing up the ladders arrayed near the edge of the dock, advancing closer even as the ship's crew and the dock workers tied Clearwave and the merchant ships up alongside and prepared for the wounded to be unloaded first.

Medical personnel and drafted assistants were beginning to disembark from the Clearwave, moving those too wounded to leave under their own power on gurneys. The walking wounded were behind them, with several being helped along the ramp. A commotion drew the eyes of the princess and ship mares. A slender, dark-haired shape was just visible under the sheet draped over her, face nearly lost behind the oxygen mask fastened over her mouth and nose, eyes closed. As she was gently transferred to a gurney to be loaded into an ambulance for transit to the Manehattan Naval Hospital, she never stirred, a complete contrast to the other wounded, who were awake and looking around, some animated or even chatting with the people moving them. Even when someone stumbled on the slick ground, the dark-haired woman didn't move, and Castle put a sympathetic hoof on Thorn’s shoulder as the destroyer pawed the ground at the sight and curled her lip like she wanted to tear into them, frowning deeply.