Naval High command strategy meeting

“That’s a completely outrageous proposal!” Admiral Mimic shouted as she slammed both her fore-hooves down onto the table.

“If you block this, they’ll be hell to pay!” Admiral Lysander barked back.

“This plan only leads to disaster, we need to cooperate.” Admiral Recina argued back.

“If he’s getting his way, then I’m resigning from high command!” Mimic shouted pointing a hoof at Lysander.

“I’m not giving it up, walk right on out of here and see if I care!” Lysander challenged.

Admiral Recina sighed and massaged her temples with both of her hooves. When her sister, Queen Helvia had asked her to come out of retirement and wrangle the Kriegsmarine into action, she hadn’t imagine it would be so hard. Everything anyling said became a point of argument, and the two leading admirals would sooner shoot at each other than the UPF.

How in the hives had the navy proven so effective beforehand? In four days, they’d produced a single side of paper on how to defeat the UPF fleet, and it wasn’t even good. It was impossible to gain any ground in these pointless arguments, the others were just so petty, and this whole argument did nothing but prove it.

“If Lysander requisitions a bigger chair then I demand a bigger chair as well!” Mimic boomed.

What demoralised Recina the most, was the total lack of reaction from the staff. The conference room was wood panelled, but had a single large window looking out onto a small office space filled with deputies and secretaries. None of them had ever showed any reaction to Mimic and Lysanders antics, after 4 days, Recina understood that it was basically nonstop.

“Why don’t you both get a bigger chair?” Recina proposed, exasperated at their bickering.

“SHUT UP!” Both of them yelled at the same time.

The two changelings immediately turned back to each other and continued their threats “why don’t I just break this chair over your skull, that way I’ll have to get a new chair!”

Mimic stood up swiftly and grabbed her chair in her magic. The submariner raised the chair over her head as Lysander laughed “hit me, you won’t do it!”

“You think I won’t do it? Try me.” Mimic growled jumping up onto the conference table.

Recina slid back a bit as Lysander also climbed up on the table, he also lifted his own chair up in magic and brandished it like a club. Mimic laughed “you’re approaching me, really?”

“I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer!” Lysander jeered.

“You want to fight? Alright, let’s do it! I’ll turn you into glue!” Mimic cried as she lifted her chair even higher up.

Recina felt like she could see a few seconds into the future. The fact that she could realistically see both of them actually going through with this concerned her greatly. She was about to step in and try to talk them down, when the single phone in the room mercifully rang. To the exasperated Princess, it was the perfect out for this stupid situation.

Three sets of eyes locked onto the phone. The two admirals on the table quickly got off and gently placed their chairs down. Lysander straightened his collar as he paced over to it, the admiral straightened his tie and cleared his throat before picking up the phone. Levitating it in his magic, the HivesAdmiral brought the receiver up to his ear.

“Admiralty officer, Lysander speaking.” The HivesAdmiral eyes opened suddenly and he twisted his head around to Mimic and mouthed ‘chrysalis’.

“Yes it’s great to hear from you your highness… yes we’re deep in work, how are you?” Lysander nervously replied. “Yes it is important to prune the branches occasionally… out of curiosity, how many of them did you prune? … That’s, yeah wow… Yes I get that.”

Much to the amazement of Recina, Mimic silently ran over to Lysander. Next to the phone was a single typewriter, Mimic sat down and started hitting random letters with her magic. She reached out a hoof to a stack of paper and began to rustle the paper as loudly as possibly. The sound would almost certainly be filtering through onto the other end.

“Yes we have plans to launch an attack… of course I’ll get them for you now.” Lysander placed a hoof on Mimic which prompted her to sprint across the room and grabbed their single side of A4 with spitballed ideas on.

It was the sum total of their labours, a single side of A4 paper with a series of bad ideas was all they’d achieved after four days. It was depressing really, that this was all they could accomplish. It made Recin question how Lysander had even built the Kriegsmarine into the crack force it was, how in the world did they get anything done with their bickering?

She passed it over to Lysanders magic and he cleared his throat. Recina couldn’t wait to see this. There was no way these two admirals, who’s been at each other’s throats for as long as she’d known them, could bullshit their way out of Chrysalis wrath. The Queen could see through anything, surely she’d see through their antics.

Unfortunately for Recina, she’d severely underestimated the bullshitting skills of the pair. Despite their: bitter feuds, political rivalry and generally hating each other guts, they had the art of pretending they were knowing what they doing down to a fine art. The pair were extremely good at making things up as they went.

“Our plan is to launch mock amphibious landings down the west coast. With the threat of opening up a new front and stretching their forces out, the UPF fleets will have to sortie in order to prevent these landings. At that moment, we hit the formations and defeat them in detail before they can merge.” Lysander explained as professionally as possibly.

Mimic meanwhile kept making general office noises to act as background sound for the phone call. She kept tapping the typewriter with her magic, and rustling papers with hoof. She then put a hoof in front of her mouth and started to mutter and stutter, creating a sound that Recina would almost mistake for two lings talking.

“Oh I understand your majesty… yes we know…” Lysander continued to talk to the queen “I’m sure… it will open the shipping lanes, we’ll be able to import foreign oil again.”

Recina still just stared in a mixture of amusement and terror. On one hoof, it was hilarious seeing Lysander and Mimic work together on something; on the other, this was the admiralty, these were the changelings running their entire naval war. Maybe Olenian command was better prepared?

“I’m hopeful as well your highness…tomorrow!” Lysander looked a Mimic and mouthed ‘what do I do?’.

Mimic frantically pointed at a chart on the table behind them, the tide chart. Recina could see where this was going. Lysander nodded in understanding and placed a nodded apologetically, as if the queen could see him “unfortunately the tide is poor tomorrow, the earliest we could launch would be in 3 days time… yes it’s not ideal… of course your highness… goodbye to you as well.”

Lysander placed down the phone and let out a sigh of relief. Mimic stopped whatever she was doing and looked at Lysander expectantly, Recina meanwhile had collapsed back into her chair at some point, unable to cope with whatever the other admirals were cooking up.

Lysander turned around and cleared his throat “The queen wants us to launch an attack as soon as the tide allows. We can bring the 1st and 3rd SNLF to the coast in 5 hours.”

Mimic stood up and trotted over to the conference table “our fuel rations are low, 1st fleet can only sail for 2 days before we’re running into the army’s supplies. If we use 2nd fleet and move over a few choice ships, we can probably stay at sea for 5 full days.”

Lysander grabbed a file with his magic and flipped it open as he joined Mimic at the table “the problem is ammunition and provisions, we’ll run dry of shells after 2 days. The dumps are empty of food as well, it’s all funnelled to the frontline, it would take days to stockpile and food and love to feed the sailors for a week at sea.”

Recina was in shock, the two were cooperating? Then she realised, Mimic and Lysander were infamous for their feud and loathing of each other, but they were also colleagues who’d gone through thick and thin together. Whatever grievances they had with each other, they had their counterparts back when the shells started flying. This was how they’d led the navy so far, under fire.

Then she realised how to play this, while Lysander and Recina would undoubtedly find a way around the food and ammunition problem, she could offer a solution. Helvia had sent her to get the Kriegsmarine into action, to get them moving, this would get them moving. She could ingratiate themselves withing their bullshit and get things done that way.

“I can offer a solution to that.” Recina announced, sitting up and raising a hoof “I can pull a few strings and call up my sister, pull the food and love we need out of Dietrisiums stockpiles. As a princess of Dietriesium, I also have the power to conscript ships registered to this city into service. We can use them as auxiliary ships to support our fleet at sea, ferrying ammo and fresh personal back and forth.”

Lysander and Mimic looked at her, their faces unreadable. Then Mimic pointed a hoof at Recina “If I wasn’t married and straight, I’d kiss you right now.”

Lysander gave an indignant snort “No idea how she convinced someling to marry her. If I didn’t look like that one hoofball you leave in the bushes for a year then I’d probably be married, what with my winning personality.”

Mimic shifted her gaze back to Lysander “please, you have the personality of a trout.”

There they were, the Lysander and Mimic who really do hate each other. Recina was glad to see that was still something she had to dance around. At least they actually doing military stuff now, small miracles.

“Anyway!” Recina loudly interjected “we should be able to maintain combat for longer that way, stretch the battle out and keep our crews fresh while the UPF tire.”

Lysander nodded, agreeing with her assessment “we also have a massive radar advantage, if we hit them with the main fleet at night with near impunity, and harass them with submarines during the day. Mimic, how many subs can you field on short notice?”

It was true that the Kriegsmarine had an enormous radar advantage, theirs was better and in more widespread usage. They were also one of the two pioneers of radar guided gunnery, just behind the naval juggernaut of Hippogriffia. The Equestrian fleet meanwhile was well trained, with many of its ships captains having been trained at the Hippogrif naval academy, but had outdated equipment and were coordinating with ships from 5 different countries. This caused them to have brilliant battlefield commanders, but an almost completely useless high command unable to capitalise on their successes.

“The U fleet is still dealing from the battle of C-1982, but I can probably get 8-12 subs ready, 2 wolfpacks.” Mimic replied.

The Equestrians were early adopters of carrier warfare, and had a shining naval air arm; but they were best with destroyers. Equestrian destroyer captains inherited almost all the traits of the Hippogriffs who trained them, a death or glory attitude. Years of dancing with Mimics sub fleet had also left their destroyer branch as the world premier sub hunting fleet.

The battle of C-1982 was their greatest showing, Mimic had launched a mass sortie of 40 subs against a convoy off the southern coast of Equestria. While they had taken down 27 merchant ships, the destroyer escorts had struck back hard in a master class of sub hunting. The U-boat arm had lost almost half of the ships committed to battle, and most which returned needed weeks of repairs. Mimic’s forces still hadn’t truly recovered from the battle.

“I think we might just have the beginning of a plan here.” Lysander said as he smirked.

The admiral then picked up the heaviest object he could find, a stapler, in his magic and tossed it at the window to the office. The stapler bounced off the glass and clattered to the floor, in the office, one of the aids walked away and left the room. Lysander tossing something at the window was code for: get us coffee, and cancel all your plans because it’s time for an all-nighter.

Recina cleared her throat and pointed a hoof to the map on the table, it showed the full map of the Eqqus continent. The map was however slightly outdated and showed the communist countries in grey. “What about Stalliongrad and the griffons? Have we accounted for their ships. Since the Molehoove-Ribentrot pact fell through, they’re also engaged.”

“The Revolutionary navy is mainly made up of Ex-equestrian ships and older models.” Lysander deflected “They never really built up a large fleet, their only modern vessels are some subs and destroyers. We can outrun them, admiral Karina also loathes her Equestrian counterpart and V.O.P.S report that they’re spread out. They’ll probably engage piecemeal, easy enough to defeat in detail.”

Mimic shuffled uncomfortably “I’m worried about their subs though. I went undercover there for a few months before the war broke out, their subs are about as good, maybe a bit better than, ours. Grey Gorshkov is a good dolphin, he’s got the skills and the equipment to give your destroyers the run around.”

“I have a plan for that, but we need to do the logistics first. Recina, I hope you can go days without sleep.” Lysander chuckled.

“I imagine I’m not as experienced as you are.” Recina sighed tiredly “you’ve made me remember why I retired.”

“Happy to help!” Mimic exclaimed joyfully.

5 Days later off Cape Sunny, Unexplored West.

Lysander stood atop the conning tower of the Battlecruiser High Tower, staring out into the sea around him. It was an early morning, a cold morning, a hard morning. The 2nd fleet of the Kriegsmarine had sortied two days before, and had finally arrived in their operational zone off the Equestrian coast yesterday. Ever since then, they’d manoeuvred, trying to get the positioning on the UPF fleet they knew was out there.

Despite the risks, they were engaging without cover from coastal command. Mimic believed that the Equestrians would stay in port if the Changelings could put 300 bombers above their fleet, and she was ultimately right. But it pained Lysander to know that his ships were all alone in the sea.

The fleet sortied for battle was split into five groups: the first was Mimics wolfpacks currently shadowing the UPF forces somewhere south of them. The wolfpacks were tasked with keeping contact on the Equestrian main fleet, launching hit and run attacks and hunting down any lone ships returning to the continent.

The second group was Recinas carriers. The Changelings had only ever constructed 2 aircraft carriers, they were worse than the Equestrians and the crews less experienced. But they had a crucial role in this battle, they were stripped of all but a few bombers and loaded with mainly fighters, they would draw the main UPF air strike onto themselves, and devastate the air wings with their massive deck-loads of fighters. Then, they would provide CAP for Lysanders 2nd fleet, and use their few bombers to depth charge any submarines which made themselves known.

The third group was the logistical fleet, a vast concentration of some 50 supply ships and oilers with the single goal of keeping the fleet at sea. Repair ships, auxiliary vessels and a small army of reserve personnel to replace tired crews. The crucial formation, posing as a vast landing force, circled under constant air support in the Olenian ocean.

The fourth group was their Olenian contingent, a smaller but still significant fleet. The Olenian protectorate still had significant oil stockpiles, and they could put their entire fleet to sea. The Olenian battle fleet was made up of some 40 ships, mainly: heavy cruisers, cruisers and destroyers. Led by admiral Lauri Virta, the Olenian force was tasked with turning back the Revolutionary navy when they finally made an appearance and striking back at the Equestrian carriers. The two Olenian light carriers was also with this group, flying: scout planes, fighters and bombers. For now, they just manoeuvred off the west of the 2nd fleet.

The last component of the fleet was the 2nd fleet itself, led by Lysander. Boasting nearly 70 ships, the fleet was a dense concentration of firepower and one not to be underestimated. The 6 fast battlecruisers of its main line were some of the most modern vessels on the planet, and their crews veterans of 2 wars and countless battles. Their job would be to evade the Equestrian fleet during the day, and run them down in the night.

The plan all began with an intentional leak. Through channeling information into the right hands, and through the right channels, the UPF became convinced they were privy to inside information about a large amphibious landing. The UPF force was somewhere out there, just beyond radar and strike range, waiting. They believed that they’d be ambushing the Olenian main fleet in an escorting position on a huge landing force. The reality would be far different.

The plan was for the 2nd fleet to absorb the main airstrike from the Equestrian carrier fleet with aid from Recinas fighters. The Olenian carriers would then launch their own strike to target the Equestrian carriers, aiming to damage them. Lysander knew the Equestrian navy wouldn’t abandon a damaged ship, and it would make it easier for him to run them down and begin a surface battle.

Mimics wolfpacks had made on and off sightings of the main Equestrian fleet south of them, also manoeuvring erratically. The battle scarred GeneralAdmiral could just feel it in his bones, today was the day of battle. Something in the air, it just felt right. Weather reports had even indicated that it was going to be a brilliant day, the perfect day for a battle.

That weather could be easily turned against them however. If Recina or the Olenians failed to neutralise their carriers or provide Lysander with air cover, then that weather would leave his 2nd fleet in the open, with no cloud cover or erratic weather preventing the UPF from launching strike after strike and devastating his forces.

Just as Lysander was musing on the strategy and coming bloodshed, a changeling sprinted in, shouting a continuous stream of Sir! Lysander turned around, bemused by the unfolding event. The sailor in question was a radio operator, a young one by the looks of her. The changeling held a piece of paper in her magic, and appeared desperate. The bridge crew cast a few wary glances her way, but otherwise left her alone.

The changeling stopped in front of Lysander and took a few deep breaths, she’d obviously sprinted from wherever it was she’d come from. The admiral looked down on her, and raised his brow in anticipation. She was desperate to get this report to Lysander, whatever it was.

“Sighting report.” She blurted out “From an Olenian aircraft to our west.”

That was odd, the main bulk of the Equestrian navy was south of them, and the Revolutionary navy wouldn’t have sortie yet. Perhaps the Olenians were just a bit jumpy? The Olenians were good sailors though, well versed in ship identification and veterans of every major battle so far. They were dependable and didn’t make mistakes very often.

Lysander took the report in his magic, the paper was a bit crumpled, but still easily readable. The admiral froze at what he read on the report ‘bombed but missed one of 2 CV’s with decks full. Battleships in support.’

That’s it? No location, no information, no bearing, nothing! Just that some Olenian pilot had spotted a carrier force within striking range on their west, in the process of flying off a strike. They could be hit any minute, the Olenians to their west could be getting bomber right now! They were probably west anyway, what with the Olenians positioned west of Lysander’s fleet.

“The report came from west.” The radioling reported “It’s no more than 20 minutes old.” Well that confirmed his theory on the position anyway.

To compound the misery of the situation, another changeling ran onto the bridge screaming Sir. What in the world could it be this time? Surely this situation couldn’t get any worse, well no plan survives contact with the enemy, perhaps the Equestrians were smarter than given credit for Lysander mused.

The changeling had handed him a written report, and a verbal one. “A V.O.P.S agent broke radio silence last night and transmitted a message sir, a scout flight confirmed it an hour ago.” The changeling stiffly handed Lysander a report.

The admiral took this one as well and read it over. If he hadn’t years of experience in pretending everything was fine, he would have screamed. The report read ‘Revolutionary fleet sorties two days ago, new Mareland and Puerto Calibrido ships, including 2CV’s, also en route.’ The second piece of paper was obviously from a scout flight, confirming the report ‘no warships in Las Pegasus harbour or surrounding are, no indication of departure time.’

The entire Revolutionary fleet and probably a New Mareland carrier force could be on their arse right now, and no one would know about it. The Revolutionary fleet could have been at sea for two days, they could be anywhere by now! They were caught in a pincer, the Equestrian fleet from the south, the New Mareland from the west, and the Revolutionary either on the west or cutting them off from the north.

“Why the FUCK wasn’t I given this report earlier! If we’ve had this for a day…” The HivesAdmiral growled.

“This was transmitted to fleet command, they only transmitted it to us a moment ago.” The nervous changeling reported, seemingly shrinking away from her superior.

Whatever happened, today was going to be a busy day, today was going to be a stressful day, today was going to be a bloody day. ‘Fuck’, he thought, ‘wish I’d gotten more sleep. Thinking for just a moment, Lysander made his call.

“Transmission to Admiral Mimic ‘overwhelming enemy force in area, suggest weapons free on any target. Code: I’ Transmission to Admiral Virta ‘follow us south, prepare for air attack and await further orders.’ Transmission to HivesAdmiral Recina ‘follow us south and prepare for air attack, act as you see fit’. Nav, plot a course south at best possible speed. If they want a fight, they’ll get one. Sound general quarters in all ships and prepare for air attack and CQB.” Lysander barked out his orders, and the previously dormant bridge became a hive of activity.

Same time, 200 miles south of 2nd fleet

GeneralAdmiral Mimic read the report over, then started from the top. A sighting report of enemy CV’s west, the Revolutionary navy already being at sea, and Lysander going weapons free and rushing south. Today was going to be a busy day. The Submariner known simply as ‘The Barracuda’ placed the reports down and looked down at the charts before her.

‘Code I’ wasn’t an official designation or code, rather an informal one between Lysander and Mimic. Code I’s meaning was simple, it means ‘we’re improvising’. It wasn’t a good sign, Lysander was justifiably spooked by the incoming reports, they were certainly off script now. Funny, they hadn’t even made contact with the enemy, yet the plan hadn’t even survived this far.

The UPF was more cunning than they’d given them credit for, this was certainly a predicament. The UPF figured out that this was probably a trap and had set up a trap of their own. They’d remained undetected until now and were launching an airstrike against the unprepared Kriegsmarine surface fleet.

It was a textbook strategy of the Hippogriffian navy, taught in their naval academy. It was an academy which many of the Equestrian captains and admirals had been taught at. Mimic and Lysander had actually attended it as well, not as Changelings obviously, but it was an ambush which she recognised. If Lysander hadn’t recognised that he was about to be hit by an air attack on two sides, then they were in serious trouble.

The Cruiser Submarine O-19, flagship of Admiral Mimic, was a vessel with a staggering kill count. 51 ships sunk over the whole war, each marked by a cross on the tower, and a single train blown up during a commando raid made its kill talley. She was, by far, the most successful submarine commander in history, and today was an opportunity to expand that tally and relieve pressure on the surface ships.

O-19 and the Wolfpack of 11 other U-boats had been shadowing the Equestrian main fleet for a day now, and Mimic had just lined up the tubs for an attack when Lysander gave the weapons free order. The Wolfpack would have to get to work if they wanted to earn their place in this battle, a battle probably not suited to submarines.

The submarines CIC was a tight room, the only sound being the quiet buzzing of equipment and almost silent murmur of the crews conversations. The air was also hot and sticky, more than one of the crew had some form of tobacco lit, mainly cigarettes. A dull haze of smoke swirled around the room, creating a fog nearly identical to the fog banks surrounding the surface ships.

“Increase speed to 15 knots, take us to periscope depth.” Mimic ordered.

The bridge crew silently performed their duty’s as the entire room lurched up. Metal groaned and protested the change as the submarine increased in speed. Pencils rolled across tables and ashtrays shifted, but the dolphins stayed upright, their bodies automatically orientating them to stay upright. The submarine levelled out, and Mimics periscope lowered from the ceiling.

The changeling wrapped both hooves around the handles and put her full weight against it. Mimics pressed her eyes against the periscope. She swivelled it around, trying to find targets, then she saw them in the distance. The Equestrian fleet was steaming just ahead of her, right across her bow and directly into the wind.

Mimic licked her lips, wishing she could taste the salty air on the surface. A small smile appeared on her face “message to transmit to Wolfpacks, ‘let’s go hunting’” the admiral turned around to her bridge crew, some of whom were also smirking now “sound general quarters and man battle stations. Load fish and open doors.”

The lights turned red, but no alarm sounded. Hooves softly hit the submarines carpeted floor as crewmen shuffled to battle stations. Dolphins were roused from sleep, stations were manned, and fish were slid into their tubes. The only sound filling the submarine was the dull thunk of tubes being loaded and flooded, and the rhythmic hum on the twin engines propelling the vehicle forward.

Mimic pressed her eyes even further against the periscope, eagerly awaiting the range to decrease. The Hivesadmiral relished the silence of her crew, even the slightest increase in sound could alert any one of the dozens of escorting destroyers to their presence.

As the silhouettes of the ships became clearer and more identifiable, the Dolphin chose her target. Sitting in the centre of the formation were the four Equestrian carriers, the main strike force of their fleet. Several had been sunk in previous battles, and others had fallen prey to air raids in port or submarine attacks, these four were the only ones which remained. But with the attrition of the naval war having decimated both changeling and Pony fleets, it was still a powerful force. Mimic wanted to claim another carrier, another one down to the deep.

Nautical mile by nautical mile, the range decreased. The submarine getting ever closer to its target. Now, Mimic could see the aircraft lining the flight deck, props spinning, waiting for the all clear signal. They were probably minutes away from launching an air strike, swivelling the periscope, Mimic could see aircraft in a similar position on the other 3 carriers.

“Wind direction?” Mimic asked her navigator softly.

The navigators voice reached her ears, equally soft “West-east.”

Mimic let out a shaken breath, silently ecstatic at the reply. In order to launch their nearly imminent air strike, the aircraft carrier would have to turn right across her submarines bow on an attack angle most would be delusional to even dream about. The carrier would be sailing right into a torpedo spread, an almost perfect scenario.

As Mimic watched, the carrier lurched left and turned on a diagonal course, sailing right into the wind. The carrier was now approaching her submarine and would pass just ahead of it, the interception angle was perfect.

Aircraft started to slide off the flight deck, beginning to circle the carrier. Any one of their pilots could have looked down and seen the submarine just under the surface of the calm water. Any one of the destroyers could have picked up the engine of the submarine. It was a game of nerves, would the submariner have the nerves to follow their attack right into the lions maw.

Mimic withdrew the periscope, and long metal tube being absorbed into the grey frame of the submarine as it disappeared beneath the waterline. She turned to look at the hydrophone operator, relying on him now for navigation.

“Approaching outer screen.” He stated, never taking his eyes off the console.

The headphones firmly clasped over his ears fed a constant stream of noise to the operator. Mimic made her way over to his console, her hooves wrapped with fabric to soften the sound. She hung her hat up and placed a small set of the headphones over her ears.

Clamping her eyes shut, Mimic imagined the world on the surface. She could hear the thrum on the destroyers engines, hear the sounds of the metal behemoths cutting through the waves. Sometimes she wondered if she was half seapony, a not totally impossible fact.

“Destroyer inbound.” The voice of the sonar operator brought her back from her thoughts. Mimic shifted the headphones, leaving one of her ears uncovered. “We’re passing under it.”

Looking up, Mimic could hear the frame of her sub groan in protest as the sudden current created by the destroyer threw it off balance. Then the metallic thumping of the propellers passed them by. There couldn’t have been more than a few meters between the two vessels. The sound subsided as the destroyer pulled away, and the crew let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Approaching inner screen.” The hydrophone operator reported.

The inner screen around an aircraft carrier was mostly filled with the heavier surface units, the battleships and heavy cruisers of the fleet. Detection in this area was unlikely, but still not impossible. There was also the very real possibility of the sub being rammed by one of the heavier ships. The battleships sat deeper in the water, without adjusting their depth, they could be cut right in half by the bow of a ship.

The minutes dragged by as the submarine crept towards the aircraft carrier, slowly but surely approaching their target. The submariners nerves held, they didn’t back out of their attack, they didn’t increase their speed, they just kept moving forwards.

Then it happened, they were through “past the inner screen, carrier ahead.” The hydrophone operator reported.

Mimic tore the headphones off and trotted over to the periscope “Give me attack depth, open outer doors and prepare to fire.”

The submarine lurched upwards, its inner hull groaning in thanks at the decreasing pressure. The whole ship shook as a crash echoed through its frame, the outer torpedo doors had been opened. As the ship levelled out, Mimic tapped on the periscope as it dropped down from the ceiling for her. Using the periscope at this point was a risky move, but she needed to ensure accuracy.

Mimic pressed her eyes against the lenses as she wrapped her for-hooves around the handles. Placing her full weight against the periscope, she looked right ahead, and there it was. The Equestrian carrier steaming right towards them, still launching aircraft off its flight deck.

Mimic could feel sweat dripping down her face, drawing lines across her dark skin. The thin layer of smoke inside the CIC increased as the command staff lit another round of cigarettes, the tobacco calming the frayed nerves of some.

Mimic stated right ahead at the carrier, “Torpedo control, range 2000 yards, prepare to fire full spread.”

“Torpedo control aye, full spread ready.” An officer barked from somewhere else on the CIC.

The changeling admiral licked her lips, watching the range decrease. “Torpedo control, fire fish full spread. Helm, left full rudder!” Mimic shouted.

Her orders were repeated by the command officers to their individual stations. The first fish was away with a thump, as the huge submarine lurched to the right, following the path of the carrier. Then a second, then a third.

“Admiral, several of their destroyers are turning on us. They know we’re here!” The sonar operator steadily reported.

The submarine continued to turn as Mimic pushed her periscope up to the ceiling, the long pole on the surface slipping beneath the waves. A moment later, a fourth and a fifth fish was away. Each metal fish, armed the moment it left the tube, racing towards a target trying desperately to turn away from the deadly weapons.

Closing her eyes, Mimic waited an agonisingly long second for the final thump. Then the sixth fish was away, and the CIC blew into action “dive control, crash depth and put us at 150m right fucking now! Helm, max speed, right full rudder. Sound collision alarm!”

As the cruiser submarine O-19 plunged into the depths, Mimic stood in the centre of the CIC, one hoof wrapped around a railing for support. They’d be depth charged in a moment, with any luck, they’d pull through. This sub has gotten her through a great many battles, it would get her through another.

All they needed now, was confirmation of torpedo hits. Plunging blind through the deep, they’d have to rely on their hydrophone operator for that. If he could hear the explosions, then it was all worth it.

Mimic lit up her horn and grabbed a golden piece of paper out of her uniforms pocket. Unfolding it in the dim light, she smiled when her eyes scanned over the image printed on it. Her husband was front and centre, a leg wrapped around her back, both grinning towards the camera. Her joy was truly directed at the other two changelings in the picture, a young male and female changeling stood at their feet, hooves wrapped around their parents legs.

This is what the fight was all about, her beautiful twins would grow up in a safe Changelingia, and have full bellies every night. They’d sleep safely, without the fear of the Thoraxian terrorists taking them, or the threat of an Equestrian army crossing the border. They would be safe!

Mimic cast a glance at her husband in the picture, she could see them right now. Her husband, a professor of geography, would be waking up their children right now, making them a breakfast of pancakes and rushing them off to school. She wouldn’t die here, a changeling with something to get back and fight for, will live forever in war.

The hydrophone operators voice dragged Mimic back from her thoughts “one hit, that’s two, three, four.” He paused, a hoof pressing the headphone further into his ear “maybe five, I can’t tell if the fourth one was a magazine going or two hits at once. That destroyers coming around, I hear the depth charges in the water.”

The mixture of good and bad news meant the room remained in total silence. The crew knew they could celebrate when they got back, when they were out of danger. Besides, the noise could give away their exact location to the prowling destroyers.

Mimic surveyed the room and locked eyes on one of the torpedo officers. The crewman couldn’t have been older than 18, and she was a shivering in fear in her own little corner of the CIC. In the dim lighting, she could even see a few shed tears rolling down the changelings face.

Mimic stalked across the CIC and arrived by the fearful changeling. She gently placed a hoof on her back, remaining gentle as the Changeling jerked in surprise at the sudden contact. “First deployment?” Mimic asked gently.

“Y-yes, it’s my first time.” She squeaked out.

“I remember my first deployment; I messed around with the engine and almost blew us sky high, but I got us going twice as fast. The skipper gave me a right bollocking when we got back into port, then recommended I take officer training.” Mimic mused happily.

The young changeling smiled and gave a weak and throaty laugh at the story. Her smile quickly dissipated as she quivered again “will we, will we be okay?”

Mimic brushed her hoof down the quivering changelings back once again “we’ll be alright, we’re in more danger of being sunk by a bolt of lightning than the Equestrian navy.” It was a complete lie, the Equestrian navy had some of the finest sub-hunting tactics and equipment in the world, but she wouldn’t let her officers worry about that. “Just follow my orders and we’ll be back in port for teatime.”

It was then that the depth charges, previously sinking to catch them, began to explode. The mixture of explosive containers and hedgehog mortars detonating underwater in a fury, shaking the salty sea up like a storm was ravaging through it.

Author's Note

So the Changeling admiralty was planning for a long multi-day battle, but the UPF have other plans. This battle is going to be on a knifes edge, reallllllly close, its a total toss for who's going to win this round.

I had a lot of fun sorting out the characters of Lysander and Mimic for this, and I don't think anyone expected the dynamic of theirs which I've set up. Almost all fic's I've read either totally sideline one of them, or have them be bitter enemies, I wanted to expand on that slightly, but have them reaching some kind of understanding.

I also ran into a lot of problems with the details when writing this. I gave a few sparse details in 'Stories of the Great War', which came back to bite me with their inconsistencies. I had a bad time figuring out how to put them together, especially the timeframe of 1 day, what was I thinking!

This chapter is also named after the game War On The Sea, which I played a lot of in the run up to writing this.

Part 2 isn't written yet, so it won't be out anytime soon. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them and I'll get back to you; and if you have any complaints, that's fair and feel free to tell me I suck.