The next few days passed relatively calmly on Amandine. While the situation downtown appeared to be heating up, with roars becoming increasingly more frequent at night and prints being commonly found in the vicinity of the station; not much else was noticed around the docks. It was assumed by the crew that the animals didn’t dare cross the tunnels to the harbor side of the city.

On the plus side, they eventually managed to finish the works on board two days after the retrieval of the Defenders. The brand new workshop was immediately put to use by shoving their Land Rovers there for modifications. It varied from vehicle to vehicle but generally speaking they stuck to equipping them with roll cages, extra headlights and winches. It wasn’t particularly hard, but retrofitting a fleet of eight 4x4 took time and manpower they’d rather spend elsewhere.

Another extremely reassuring innovation that occurred on board was when Aleksei turned up one day in the Captain’s office in the middle of a meeting with Schmitt and Alejandro to present them his first prototype of gas mask for their SCBA’s. It had taken him some time to make it since he had to figure out ‘one size fits all’ ergonomics and work with fireproof materials, but the conversion kit to retrofit masks to creature standards was finally ready. Admittedly they weren’t perfect: users had to tighten them really hard to avoid their fur (or feathers) causing air to leak out, but they’d rather have a bad mask than none at all. Dilip immediately approved the installation of a 3D printer and molds inside the workshop so that the hippogriff could move on to making more of them before dismissing Aleksei. That was a rather nice turn of events to start the day…

The Captain turned back towards his department heads once the hippogriff left the room.

“Where were we, now?”

“Farkas.” Schmitt stated. The orange scaled (the color came across as odd since it was exactly the same tone as the fabric on the Chief Engineer’s coveralls) female dragon had his arms crossed against his chest and a concerned look on his muzzle.

“Ah yes.” Dilip glanced down at a small pile of papers on his desk. “I’ve been getting some concerning reports about his status, which is odd: whenever I speak with him he sounds just fine. What about you two?”

“Exactly the same on my side but there is one little thing…” Alejandro said, waggling a claw. “We gotta remember the guy never talked much about himself before the change. But even then that was more than now.”

“Hence why I think he’s hiding something from us specifically.” Schmitt said.

Dilip quirked a furry brow at the dragon.

“I don’t mean something physical.” Schmitt quickly corrected himself. “I mean that he hasn’t been as forthcoming about his change as others have been. As the department head for catering, we’ve always worked closely with him. Hell, I’d even call him a friend. My opinion would be that he’s been trying to lick his metaphorical wounds on his own so that we wouldn’t be worried…”

“As retarded as it sounds, it pretty much fits his character.” Alejandro said.

“Not helping, Alej’.” Dilip said. “Any suggestion?”

“Well, talking to him ‘bout it explicitly would be one, obviously. All of us too, when it’s only me asking the questions he just deflects them back to me as usual.” Schmitt shrugged.

A gleam then appeared in the Captain’s eyes.

“I may have an idea. How long has it been since we all had dinner together in my cabin?”

“Dunno. Three weeks to one month, maybe?” Alejandro hesitated.

“Then we got a plan. After lunch I will go see Rahul and ask him to make us dinner in my cabin tonight. Then we can deal with the Farkas issue, does that solution suit you both?” Dilip said.

“Aye.” Both answered.

Dilip wrote down a note to remember to do it before moving on to the next subject. He pulled out a sheet of paper, written by Roberto, on which the cat had written down the position of the most valuable pieces of art in the city. For a couple minutes they went on about planning one expedition to retrieve as much of them as possible so they could maximize their extra credits with the HPI before Alejandro looked at the clock and held up a claw to stop the Captain in his tracks.

“Not that the art pieces aren’t important but I had planned for our newest crewmember to come give us some input on a matter I think needs to be addressed.” He said.

“Corporal De Mesmaeker you mean? The unicorn? What do you need him for?” Dilip asked.

“Simple. I took a look at our ammo supply and while we’re overloaded on regular rounds like 9mm, 5.56 and 7.62; we’re sorely lacking on rarer types like 5.7 and the disintegrating rounds for our 303’s.”

“And how exactly is it important?” Dilip said, one of his ears tilting down.

“Turns out the 303’s are ideal for the more dynamic parts of live-fire training. I talked to Artyom about it and all of the vets agree they’d rather do it with less-lethal rounds than live ammo. As for the 5.7, it’s armor-piercing, which should be useful against monsters. At least we think it should be…” The macaw trailed off.

“And the Corporal would know where to get more.”

“I’m certain he would. We’re in his home country and he’s military; he’d know where the bases are.”

“Fine then.” Dilip shrugged, pushing the notes on the art retrieval expedition aside for later. He wanted to go on that particular expedition himself for a change, maybe with Farkas too. His ears twitched as he heard movement behind the door. “I think our local specialist has arrived. Come on in!” The Captain said.

The doorknob then lit up with a dull green glow before opening slowly. In came the Belgian unicorn, still injured but now mobile. As the door stopped moving, the glow that had been surrounding his horn disappeared.

Turns out unicorns use their horn for telekinesis contrarily to the sphinxes that use… something they had yet to figure out.

Bart’s gait was slow and careful, showing he had yet to become fully accustomed to walking on all fours. Between the moment he had been released from the infirmary a few days earlier and his arrival in this office, someone had adjusted a set of coveralls to fit his small frame. Above the orange clothing, the unicorn still wore his military wool sweater with his ranks on the shoulders. Below the clothing, all sailors were able to see the bandages that protected his neck wound.

The look on his features didn’t match his stance, at all. Unlike the careful and (if Dilip was honest about it) hesitant approach, the Corporal bore a determined no-nonsense look on his muzzle. Said look was a bit unsettling considering it was coming from a dog-sized blue-furred unicorn but Dilip managed to take it in stride.

Geert followed in Bart’s steps, the scarlet macaw coming in on his crutches and immediately sitting down with a weary sigh in one of the seats. Schmitt almost reprimanded the young Officer for taking a seat without being offered one but a quick look from Dilip stopped him. He was injured already, no need to force him to stick to protocol like that.

Bart stopped a few steps short of the Captain’s desk and leveled his large eyes at the dog in the armchair.

“Greetings Captain.” The Belgian’s accent was very thick and his pacing slow but at least it was possible to understand him. “Ik come here voor the briefing.” He hesitated for a few seconds before adding: “Have you questions?”

The words were arranged a bit oddly but at least the unicorn got his point across. Dilip threw a quick glance towards Geert to check if the macaw was ready to do the translation for him. His Fourth Officer noticed and gave a subtle nod before Dilip brought his attention back to Bart.

“Hello to you too, Corporal. I’m pleased to see you out and about. You may take a seat.” The dog said, keeping his pace slow so the Belgian could at least get the gist of what he was saying and pointing an open paw towards a seat next to Geert.

Not needing a translation for that, the unicorn nodded and went to sit down next to the parrot. Once he was seated, Dilip explained the situation to Geert and asked him if the Corporal knew of a place where they could acquire the ammunition they wanted.

Once he got the translation, the unicorn closed his eyes for a second before giving a quick nod.

“It’s possible. If you already took the ammo in Zeebrugge then the closest base would be in the province of Limburg, about 50km east of here in the middle of the countryside. I’m afraid that’s the closest base available since the army sold its barracks in Antwerp; but it should hold a lot of ammo. It’s the biggest military range in the country.” Bart said.

“That makes it a worthwhile target then.” Dilip nodded after Geert repeated it in English. “Corporal, may I ask you to accompany and guide a team there? I won’t require you to do any heavy lifting but my sailors sure could use your guidance.”

Bart was a bit hesitant at leading a bunch of foreigners inside one of the most important bases of his country’s army, but Geert managed to convince him by pointing out they had already taken plenty of material from the navy base in Zeebrugge anyway. Eventually, an agreement was reached that the sailors would only take the ammo and some pieces from the regimental museum Bart wished to take. The rest: vehicles, equipment, data… would be left for other survivors to find. Not much of a problem for Dilip considering they already had most of the gear they needed anyway.

“I’m quite curious as to why you would want to take those museum pieces. Aren’t you navy?”

The unicorn got a surprised look on his face and quickly corrected the Captain.

“Sir I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’m from the Bevrijding battalion, mechanized infantry. I was on the K9 squadron before my antics got me moved off to guard a navy base.” And boy did that sting when his superiors forced him to sign his transfer order right after demoting him to Corporal. “The base you’re asking me to guide you to is the one I spent most of my career at. I just… don’t want to let my unit be forgotten, even if I’m the only one left after this Apocalypse.”

Maybe he owed the Captain more details about what had caused him to wind up in Zeebrugge. Then again, the Indian didn’t ask for more details and if his experience with Officers was anything to go by, he didn’t want to know.

“My mistake then.” Dilip apologized. “I know how you army folks are with regimental culture so that’s a fair request.” He then stopped to grab a sheet of paper on which he started jotting down notes.

“De Vries.” The Captain said, not looking up. “Expedition’s scheduled for tomorrow morning. I want a team roster and vehicle request no later than three in the afternoon, copy? You and De Mesmaeker are already on the roster, but since you’re both injured that’ll be a complete team in addition to you.”

“Understood sir. Anything else?”

The Captain paused and looked up at Schmitt for a second.

“Yes, come to think of it the guys from engineering have been stuck working on the modifications for a while. Prioritize them on your roster so they get some fresh air. Dismissed.”

The parrot nodded and stood up slowly, grabbing his crutches. He beckoned for Bart to follow and both Dutch-speakers left the office quietly. Dilip then turned to Alejandro.

“So that’s your ammo situation done with Alej’. Satisfied?”

“I’d say.” The hyacinth macaw shrugged. “Can I go with them?” He tried.

“I’m sorry but that’s a flat no.” Dilip said. “I need you to watch the ship while I’m gone tomorrow.”

“Gone where?” Schmitt asked.

“I don’t know if you both have noticed but unlike you I have yet to step off the ship since that whole ordeal begun. Unless I lost count it’s been three months since I last walked ashore.”

“What? Really? Not even in Zeebrugge?” Schmitt asked incredulously.

Dilip shook his head.

“I guess that’s fair then.” Alejandro said, crossing his arms. “Doesn’t mean that I like it but…”

“I’ll break open some Port wine for dinner tonight.” Dilip added with a small crease on the corners of his muzzle.

“Did I say I didn’t like it? I meant… what an excellent idea Captain.” The Spaniard corrected himself.

“Alcoholic…” Schmitt muttered, though he was bad at hiding his smile.

“I’m not alcoholic.” The parrot put a claw against his chest in mock offense, his crest feathers raised. “I just need alcohol to properly function in my day to day tasks.”

Dilip just rolled his eyes. There go his hopes of finishing his expedition planning early.

By all accounts, the dinner with Farkas and the department heads went rather well. The carnivores got a serving of the Angus beef Dilip kept in storage for special occasions while Alejandro was given a plate of vegetarian coconut curry (he was still sulking about not being able to eat the Angus but extra wine managed to raise his spirits). Dilip eating beef might have seemed weird, considering he was Hindu; but the Captain had an admittedly bad track record when it came to following his own religion's traditions (not that the rest of them were any better, really). For the better part of the evening, they exchanged pleasantries and some dark jokes about the recent events and the reaction of certain members of the crew.

By the time Rahul came back to get their empty plates, the group had already discussed much of what they wanted to talk about, including varying opinions about their… commercial partnership (if it could be called that) with the HPI.

“I tell you, those guys may be useful but I wouldn’t trust them as far as I can piss!” Alejandro firmly declared. “You told us yourself Dilip; they spent the better part of their existence as a secret organization. What makes you think they’re not already working things behind our backs?”

“They probably are.” Dilip conceded. “But I don’t see anybody else on the horizon so it’s not like we have much of a choice. I agree we shouldn’t put too much trust into them, but I’m genuinely confident in their willingness to work with us. They have their back against the wall after all.”

“Or so they said.” Farkas countered.

“The facility in France looked like good enough of a proof to me.” Schmitt said. “But yeah, I’ll give that to you Alej’, no underground group like theirs should be fully trusted. Still…” The dragon snapped his claws. “We do need their services as much as they need ours. They’re probably looking into ways to avoid having to rely on us…”

“… So we should do that as well.” Farkas cut him off.

“Exactly!” Schmitt let out a small puff of smoke that drifted out of the cabin’s open window. “Surely we can eventually secure the tools to make the parts ourselves.”

“Parts are one thing, but what do you make of fuel?” Dilip politely put forth.

“Been looking into that actually.” The dragon said. “I’ve got notes on my computer about it, ideas to recycle fuel, manuals on how to man a refinery. I’ll be honest, I’ve never worked for the oil or offshore industry so that will take time but I got one thing out of it for sure.”

“And what would that be?” Dilip asked.

“That we have about six months before fuel stored in shore tanks ‘spoils’, if such a term can be used for oil.”

All occupants of the room turned to stare at the dragon who didn’t seem too concerned about the bombshell he had so casually dropped on the conversation. Schmitt casually served himself a new glass of wine, not looking up at the utterly flabbergasted face of Dilip.

“That’s… extremely important.” Alejandro stated slowly, looking back and forth between the Chief Engineer and the Captain. “How come you seem so unconcerned about the situation?”

“That I want to know indeed.” Farkas added. “Lack of fuel could eventually force us to abandon the ship and the position of strength she gives us. That’s a game changer.”

“Simple.” The orange dragon said. He took a sip of his wine before raising two claws. “One: we got six months before that becomes an actual problem. Two, I already have a bunch of ideas to work on before we reach that deadline.” He waggled his claw a bit to show his hesitation. “I’ll be honest, said plans are just in the early draft stage and I might need more data to put them into action but then again… six months. No worries.”

“That’s a whole lot of talking about the plans without telling us what they’re actually about.” Alejandro said.

“Right, sorry.” The dragon shook his head and took another sip of his glass. “Damn, that wine is really good, where’s it from?” He said, looking at his glass in wonder.

“Vino Nobile di Montepulciano. It’s Italian; I kept the Port for dessert. Back to the subject, please?” Dilip said, tapping a digit on the table impatiently.

“My bad. I get carried away like that sometimes.” Schmitt sheepishly apologized. “Thing is: I got one ‘simple’ project…” The dragon made some air quotes as he said ‘simple’. “… In which we make our own fuel from crude oil found in storage at any petrochemical complex. Disadvantage would be that none of us has a fucking clue how to make a refinery work and it would take a hell of a lot of time to make enough fuel to fill our tanks in their entirety.”

“I can imagine…” Alejandro drawled before Farkas shushed him.

“Idea number two…” Schmitt continued after throwing a glance in Alejandro’s direction. “… Would be to find out ways to recondition the spoiled fuel we find. I suspect it can be done via chemicals but that’s really the solution I’d have to look the most into.”

“Complicated uh?” Farkas said.

“I’d say. Ideally I’d find some ways to upgrade Amandine’s oil filters or make a new filtering station from scratch, maybe even with an entirely mechanical system so we don’t have to find or make the chemicals but…” The Luxembourgian lowered his head. “I haven’t had the time to look into it yet. That idea could go a lot of ways before I’m done with it, and I’ll need some information on petrochemistry, study the effects on different grades of oil and make a detailed report on the filtration and purification standards we will need to avoid damaging the engine. All in all… I got my fair share of work ahead of me.”

“And you think you can manage?” Dilip asked with a raised eyebrow.

“That at least I’m certain of. The only problem would be the time it’ll take to get it done but then again…” He shrugged. “Six months, as I said.”

“That at least is reassuring.” Alejandro conceded before allowing a smile to briefly appear on his beak. “Oil issues aside, have you all heard about that little bet about Vadim and Micha that’s going around the ship?”

For a couple minutes the group fell into casual discussions about the antics of the crew and the growing poll that had been made around the two Eastern European Officers. At this point, even the Captain had to concede he had his own stakes in the poll (and pretty much everyone except for the two griffons had by then). Indeed, it was a sizeable pile of liquor and cigars that would await those that had placed their bets correctly.

Diplomatically, Dilip waited until the Chief Cook brought in the platter cheese that preceded their dessert before finally deciding to rip off the scab, so to speak. He threw a furtive glance towards Schmitt and Alejandro while Farkas was taking a sip of his wine (the sphinx was already on his sixth glass); earning a soft nod from both.

The Captain mustered his courage and let out a polite cough to draw Farkas’ attention. The Greek set down his glass with his telekinesis and raised an eyebrow at the dog. Slowly, Dilip dropped his arms in his lap and leaned back in his seat.

“There is something we have to talk to you about Farkas. All three of us that is.” He began. “These last few days we’ve all been receiving some… concerning reports about your behavior.”

He stopped for a second to give the Chief Steward a chance to respond. He didn’t, so he carried on.

“I’m not saying this as a reprimand because I’m not going to berate you about a few ruffled feathers, no pun intended. We all have a thick skin on this ship anyway… But the changes we have all undergone force me to pay particular concern to my shipmates’ behavior, which is one of the reasons why we’re gathered this evening.”

“Oh, so I’m supposedly a risky member now?” Farkas snapped.

“Let’s see…” Alejandro said. “Evasive, irritable, short-tempered.” He listed, punctuating each word with a tap of his claw on the table. “That’s not the Farkas we know.”

“I second that. So what’s going on with you?” Schmitt asked.

The sphinx frowned and threw a glare at the dragon who met it with a flat stare.

“Farkas, I’m not accusing you of anything wrong.” Schmitt said. “But I’ve seen every member of this crew reach out to another, talk about the situation, if only to relieve the pressure. Every member, except you.”

“I’ve helped with the other gender-bent crewmembers!” Farkas defended himself.

“So have I.” The female dragon stated calmly. “The difference? I had someone to talk to regarding my own issues. I have yet to hear about you doing that.”

“What if I don’t need to talk about it?” The sphinx countered, his ears twitching in irritation.

Schmitt snorted, a small puff of black smoke escaping his nostrils.

“My ass you don’t.” He said, crossing his arms and staring directly in the sphinx’s eyes.

Both of the female crewmembers stared each other down for what felt like a minute. Schmitt’s tail was swishing back and forth behind him while the sphinx on the other side of the table had his ears flattened against his skull. Alejandro gave the Captain an awkward glance before Farkas finally backed down.

“Entáxei, you may be right.” He said, deflating. “Doesn’t change the fact there are better things to do than addressing trivial matters like that.”

“Yeah you say it’s trivial until everybody is so unhinged from stress that the crew tears itself apart.” Alejandro said. “Don’t dismiss mental issues because they’re harder to notice, and most of all don’t dismiss them if it’s about you.”

“As he said.” Dilip nodded towards the Spaniard. “Now, care to tell us what’s been on your mind all this time? Family?”

“I wish it was only that.” He snorted. “I’ll give you that, I do worry about them a bit but my son turned 18 recently and my wife is used to me being absent most of the time. Granted that doesn’t really justify me leaving them in the middle of the Apocalypse but I didn’t get the choice anyway.”

“So what’s actually on your mind?”

“How about you serve us that Port wine of yours, and then I’ll tell you?”

Dilip just rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle from a cabinet before serving everyone a glass. Farkas swirled the liquid in his glass before taking his first sip and letting out a contented sigh.

“Better?” Dilip asked.

“Yeah, nothing like alcohol to get the words rolling off the tongue.” The sphinx shuffled a bit in his seat, which was a bit small for his large frame despite being the biggest Dilip had available. He had to sit on his haunches in it, which made it look like some sort of stool.

“’bout this problem then…” The sphinx flushed a bit. “It’s err… mostly sexual to be honest.”

Dilip raised an eyebrow but didn’t laugh.

“See, I first thought that maybe to cope with the stress I could do the usual…” He lowered his voice. “Jack off to some porn, and then it’s all better.”

From his seat, Schmitt sent both the Captain and Alejandro a warning glance. Don’t interrupt, the Greek was finally spilling the beans.

“Well, at first I was a bit curious; and honestly, what dude wouldn’t be? Try out the grass on the other side, eh.” He chuckled weakly and stopped to take another sip of his glass. “So once I got the telekinesis figured out, I loaded up some vids from the ship’s server on my laptop. Nothing special, pretty mild girl on girl stuff actually. Getting the… tools was the hardest part but you needn’t know the details.” From the inflection he put on the word, nobody had any doubt what he actually meant by tool. Nor did the Captain want to imagine his Chief Steward like that.

“I’m dreading to hear where it’s going.” Schmitt commented.

“Well I dunno about you Schmitt, but as for me… well apparently I’m heterosexual.”

“So nothing has changed?” Alejandro asked, the blue parrot having a weird look on his beak.

“No Alej’, I meant I’m heterosexual.” The sphinx repeated.

“Oh.” It then dawned to the Chief Officer.

“Also I think I’m a furry.” Farkas added.

Dilip spat out his wine.

Finding the base on the next day was no trouble at all thanks to Bart’s guidance. They had only taken two vehicles for that expedition since they didn’t expect to have to transport too much ammo. That was reason one for them only taking a Defender (a type 130, the very first to come out of the workshop with its modifications completed) and a mog; reason number two was that most of the personnel and vehicles had been requisitioned by the Captain for his art retrieval in downtown Antwerp.

Since they were both injured, Geert and Bart had had to find some crewmembers to accompany them to the base. Angelo had been the first to volunteer. Before Geert even got the chance to ask the Greek if he wanted to come along, the minotaur had practically barged in his cabin to tell him he was coming.

The guy sure liked going on expeditions it seemed…

The minotaur was now sitting in the mog leading their two-vehicle convoy, with one of the Filipinos as the driver. Carlos, the electrician from engineering that had turned into a sulphur-crested cockatoo after the Event. Geert didn’t know him that well beyond the fact that he and Vadim got along relatively well and that he liked fiddling around with electronics (to the point where Alejandro had once had to put his foot down to get the guy to stop messing around with the bridge controls).

The last member of their group was Ajit, an Indian that had turned into a Himalayan sheepdog. The guy was a deck rating and, at 21, one of the youngest members of the crew. He was a relatively friendly guy that Geert might even call a friend. Then again, everyone could claim that title with the cheerful Indian: he always went out of his way to make people feel comfortable and make friends.

Ajit was currently steering the Defender in which both Geert and Bart were seated. The version of the 4x4 they were riding in had a double cab for up to five passenger and a small cargo bay covered by canvas in the back. The interior of the matte silver painted vehicle was rather roomy, which had allowed Geert to fit all the radio equipment they needed on the dashboard.

The route to the base was fairly simple on the first stretches of road. They only needed to exit the city’s grid and take a highway due east following a canal. Much like Angelo had observed on his trip to the HPI facility, the country was completely devoid of human activity. By then, it didn’t really surprise them anymore, though some intelligent life would have been welcome.

Bart had Ajit take the lead of the convoy when they started to approach their destination, pointing a highway exit to the Indian sailor who happily obliged.

The area was a bizarre mix of mining history and more modern investments mixed all together in a haphazard manner: Geert could see the tall heaps of rocks and sediments associated with the mining activity and coal industry that took place there in the 19^th century, as well as the abandoned infrastructure that came with these. The heaps, covered in bushes and small trees, towered above newer fancy suburbs and high tech buildings that belonged to a growing tech sector that would never get to achieve its expectations.

Urban planners in this area must have stolen some weed from their Dutch neighbors because not even Bart (who was more familiar with the area) could make sense of how this hodgepodge of dissimilar development was supposed to create a functional community. The Belgian pointed the convoy in a direction and they exited the more developed part of the region to dive even deeper into the countryside.

Flat as Flanders will always be, the area was littered with sand drifts and thin woods that were mostly composed of Mediterranean breeds of pine as well as birches; with the ground being covered with dry grass and small ferns. The area looked utterly out of place in Western Europe with the desert and savanna vibes it somehow managed to give off. Angelo even let out a comment about it on the radio, uncertain as to how they could find an area like that at this latitude.

“It’s normal for the area.” Bart explained. “That’s also the reason why they put the base there. The soil is very poor and there are next to no minerals underground so nobody wanted it. Best place to put a base for the army then. And the sand…” The unicorn sighed wistfully “… I remember the sheer amount of foxholes I had to dig in that ground during my career for the sake of training, all the way from basic training to last year.” The unicorn looked up at the road ahead of them. “Take next left.” He said in English.

The two vehicles came out of the woods to face one last stretch of five hundred meters of exposed roads before reaching a tall fenced compound. The base.

Stopping their convoy in front of the guard post, Bart and Geert quickly dismounted to go open the fence. Behind them in the mog, Angelo opened the ceiling hatch of the cabin and took control of the machinegun in case anything popped up.

Both of the Dutch speakers were still very much injured, but they had enough mobility between the two of them to get to the guard post, only slowed down by Geert hobbling about on his crutches. Coming up to a panel next to the guard post, Bart used his telekinesis to open a pouch on his flak jacket (which, in his case, was really just a converted set of K9 armor) and flash his military ID against an exposed scanner. The gate in the fence slid open with a soft whirr.

“Much as I loathe ecologists for being pompous twats, I gotta give it to them that having a large amount of green energy powering the country can be useful during a doomsday event.” The unicorn commented, trotting back to their truck.

“What? You mean they don’t even leave the military be in this country?”

“Nah, they loved to pester High Command about the silliest shit. Worst of all being measures against pollution caused by K9 units.”

“You’re shitting me.” Geert said incredulously.

“I wish.” The unicorn opened his door and crawled back inside the Defender. “Get in; I wanna have time to explore the regimental museum after we get the ammo.”

With the Belgian’s help, getting the mog loaded with crates of ammo wasn’t too hard. If anything, getting to the bunkers where they were stored was the hardest part in the whole thing since they were built in a fenced off part of the compound, but even that problem was made nonexistent by their bit of ‘insider knowledge’. Soon enough, Bart had the now loaded convoy follow directions towards the location of the museum. The mog was now considerably slower because of the tens of thousands of rounds it had loaded in its cargo bay (and that had better last them for a while).

They dismounted once again in front of a nondescript brick building next to the main entrance of the base. Only a small plaque next to the door told of its purpose, indicating the museum was more of a converted warehouse rather than a fully fledged dedicated building.

They left Ajit and Carlos with the vehicles, Angelo deciding to come inside with them. The interior of the museum was nothing particularly grand, having been made more with the intent of being visited by military personnel than civilians. Trophies and medals belonging to the different units attached to the base were showcased all over the place, some dating back to the late 1800’s. Behind the two Dutch-speakers, Angelo whistled in awe.

“Damn, you guys had quite the hoarding streak going on didn’t you?” He commented, looking at a glass casing containing memories of campaigns fought long ago.

Bart didn’t answer the minotaur, instead making a beeline towards the back of the museum where the regimental colors were stored for later use in parades. The blue-furred unicorn stopped to stare at his flag, a forlorn look on his muzzle.

“You miss them?” Bart asked, coming up behind the stallion.

“I’m 46 De Vries. For my entire career I’ve been in the military, always with the same unit, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t grown attached.” He shook his head. “What I did before the Event occurred, I’m not proud of and they were justified to send me guard a navy base to cool off. But I’m still one of them and the memory’s got to live on.”

With that he gently grabbed the flag in his telekinesis and folded it before tucking it in a pouch on the back of his K9 armor. The unicorn brought out a small letter he had written to explain what had happened to the flag in case survivors came here after them and placed it in plain sight. He then turned his head towards the Dutch parrot with a small smile on his muzzle.

“Now that’s dealt with let me show you some little collection we were quite proud of.” He quickly switched to English. “Angelo, come please. Iets interesting here.” He called the minotaur.

The Corporal led both sailors to an enclosed part of the museum, which he opened by quickly typing a code on a digital pad. Once he pushed the door open, both Geert and Angelo’s jaw (or lower mandible in Geert’s case) hit the floor.

The room was decorated with antique weapons, as well as more modern ones from basically every country the unit had ever visited. Alongside the weapons were headgear, caps and berets from an even more impressive amount of countries, some even going as far as Asia. But the most impressive item in the room wasn’t actually a gun or a cap: it was a sword.

Or saber, rather. The thing was a fairly short navy-style saber, lavishly decorated with engravings all over. Its scabbard was carved out of ivory and had its pieces held in place by bits of silver. The most notable feature about it was the very large pink diamond on its pommel, held in place by a carved silver hand that was grasping it tightly.

“Trophies?”

“Ja” Bart nodded. “Some honest.” He hesitated. “Some err… gestolen. Or won in bets.”

Geert decided not to question it too much and instead calmly approached the sabre.

“Bart what is this thing?” He was getting some odd vibes from the item.

“The Congo Sword is what we call it, though some of the more politically inclined personnel on the base liked to call it the ‘Hearth of Darkness’. Back in the time of Leopold II’s reign, it used to belong to the Administrator-General of the Congo Free State before the whole humanitarian incident came to light. The guy had it made with local materials he taxed off of concessions. The thing is, the sword was lost for years when the guy went to prison for what he did. Some paracommandos found it in Stanleyville during operation Red Dragon in ’64 after the whole decolonization, civil war and hostage situation took place.”

“Hold on, I thought this base was for infantry, not paratroopers.”

“It is. The paras didn’t say shit to the government about finding the sword. It’s just too politically charged, they would have ordered it to be destroyed. So they put it in their museum.”

“And your colleagues stole it?” Geert asked, kneeling in front of the sword’s case to observe it more closely. Looking at the gem in the pommel gave him a slight feeling of dread deep in his gut.

“Won it in a fair challenge during a drill in West Germany.” Bart corrected him. “I say, it’d be a shame to just leave it there to rust.” He waved a hoof around. “This room of the museum is kind of a secret, almost nobody knows about it except for the highest ranking officers and the Old Guard like me.”

So that’s how they wound up taking the sword from its case. The weapon found its way secured on the back of Bart’s flak jacket, the unicorn showing great care in handling this kernel of his country’s history, bad as it may be.

The unicorn went to leave before stopping upon taking a look at the berets in the room. As an afterthought, he grabbed a brown beret with the markings of his unit to replace his former which had been forever stained by blood.

“Say Geert, what nations are the vets on the ship from?”

“One is ex-VDV, one from the Bulgarian army and the last one from the Indonesian navy. Why? Are those in this collection?”

Two berets, one blue, the other red found their way inside the unicorn’s flak jacket.

“Nothing for Indonesia but they might appreciate the gift as a token of goodwill.” Bart said before leaving the room.

Soon after that, the two vehicles in the convoy drove back towards Antwerp, their task accomplished.

“You know, nobody would ever expect the Belgians to have that kind of skeletons hiding in their closet.” Geert commented once they were in their truck.

“Wanna talk about Indonesia uh, Dutchie?”

“Fuck off.”

“Ever stopped to think about the development of arts Farkas? How generations of artists built up their work on the shoulders of their masters to reach increasing levels of skill? Doesn’t that make you marvel at those paintings?” Dilip said.

“Sounds like you’re just trying to avoid thinking about what was said yesterday.”

“That too.” The dog shook his head. He had in no way expected to wind up seeing his Chief Steward in such a manner. “Doesn’t put a halt to my appreciation of fine arts though.”

They were inside of a museum in Antwerp. Rubens’ house to be exact, which led to Dilip now standing in front of that same artist’s self-portrait. The dog was still clad in his usual mix of a pilot shirt and cargo shorts, but this time he had added a flak jacket to the mix. His .38 revolver was strapped to his hip, as well as a holstered bayonet. Beyond that, the Captain relied on his crew to do the fighting.

After all, a proper Officer shouldn’t get caught fighting. That’s what he had his retinue of shipmates for.

Just behind him was Farkas, the sphinx having agreed to come along on Dilip’s ‘artful’ outing. The sphinx did have a rifle along, but he was rather lacking in the field of accuracy because he couldn’t sight his rifle properly while holding it in his telekinesis. They were the only two currently inside the building, the rest of their companions being busy outside loading paintings on their trucks. They had taken two refrigerated containers with atmospheric control in order to preserve the paintings as best as they could, but said controls had yet to be set to the proper values.

“So you’re not gonna say anything about yesterday’s dinner?” Farkas asked.

“For fuck sake, my Chief Steward’s sexuality is not something I ever wished to delve into.” Dilip cried out in exasperation. “For all I care you go jack off to Simba in the goddamn Lion King and I’d still be able to look you in the eyes.” He noted a gleam in the sphinx’s eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to try.”

“Totally am.”

The dog let out a tired whine, ears drooping much to Farkas’ amusement.

They were interrupted by Artyom walking in with a folder held in his claws. The blue dragon didn’t appear to have overheard what they were talking about (thank God for small mercies) and just went to give the folder to Dilip.

“Storage parameters for the paintings. Better scan them once we’re back and archive the documents. I already set up the containers to the prescribed humidity and temperature so…” He nodded his head towards the self-portrait. “… We just have to load that last one then it’s on to the next museum.”

“Excellent. You may proceed.” The Captain told the Boatswain before turning away from the painting. “Where is our next target again?” He asked Farkas.

“Close to the Jewish district. Modern art gallery I think.”

“Not something I have much appreciation for then.” The Captain snorted. “Still, we do get paid by the HPI so that’s still worth it.”

“There’s a bit of a hick though…”

Dilip raised an eyebrow and motioned with his paw for the sphinx to continue.

“The Jewish district is basically next to the Central Station.”

“And by association the zoo. Great, now we finally get to tackle that issue.” Dilip drawled as he slowly made his way out of the museum, Farkas trailing behind him and Artyom further behind. The dragon cradled the self-portrait as if it were a newborn.

The three sailors came out of the building to face a column of four vehicles. Two of their hooklift trucks (each of them carrying a refrigerated container) were directly in front of them. They had already hit a couple places earlier that day so they were starting to fill them up nicely.

Two unimogs covered the front and back of the column, ready to tackle any critter or monster that could possibly turn up within the boundaries of the city. If anything threatened the shipmates of the sailors manning the machineguns on the trucks, it would be met with a hail of supersonic lead.

Artyom stowed the last painting and walked back to the rear mog to take his place at the wheel while Farkas and Dilip made their way to the front of the convoy. The Captain bade his goodbyes to the ornate Renaissance building of the museum before getting into his truck and ordering the driver to steer them towards their next objective.

Keeping a sedate pace to avoid getting into an accident in the narrow paved streets, the convoy moved on East towards the station. Wary of the roars they had heard coming from the area, every sailor in the group kept his head on a swivel, eyes looking everywhere for the tiniest hint of movement. Despite their wariness, the city remained still, which only served to increase the tension as they drove ever closer to the zoo.

Minutes later the convoy reached the large, open square next to the Central Station. The bus and tram terminals that bordered it were devoid of any activity, the fountains that enshrined the outskirts of the station dry and the normally bustling heart of the city… dead.

The station’s building was a mix of late 19^th century French architecture at its base, with pale brown stonework framing large windows; before it rose at the top in a cupola of riveted steel beams and small glass panels covering the quays that would make a Steampunk fan drool. Dilip was almost tempted to step off his truck to take a closer look.

Almost.

On one end of the square they could see both the main threat to their expedition as well as their goal: the entrance booths to the zoo, marked by two large bronze eagle statues; and a few dozen meters next to them was the street leading to the Jewish quarter. They could even spot the bulbous tower of the synagogue from their end of the square.

Bad thing was, they could clearly see the gates to the zoo had been busted open.

“Sir, do we go on and hope the animals vacated the zoo?” The parrot driving Dilip’s truck asked.

“Not exactly. I got a plan.” He said before grabbing a walkie-talkie on the dashboard. “Captain to rear mog, do you hear me? Over.” He asked.

“Loud and clear Captain, what’s the matter? Over.” Artyom answered.

“I need you to move your truck so you can cover the zoo entrance with your machinegun. I want to close those gates, keep what’s still inside there for what it’s worth. Over.”

The Russian answered with a curt ‘roger over’ before his truck rumbled slowly to the front of the convoy, coming to a halt next to Dilip’s.

“Okay, now to find a volunteer to close those gates…” Dilip mused.

“I will.” Farkas said immediately, surprising the Captain.

“You don’t have to. I wasn’t asking you in particular.”

“Too late, ‘was gonna volunteer anyway.” The sphinx said, not allowing the Captain to answer before he stepped off the vehicle. In passing he grabbed a spare walkie-talkie from the dashboard in his telekinesis and plugged it to an earpiece which went in his large ear.

“Farkas, are you absolutely certain you want to do that? It’s still risky. Over.” The Captain said over the comms.

“Relax, I can close the gates from further way than any of you could with my telekinesis. Out.” Farkas said, walking in the direction of the ticket booths.

Behind him he could see that both unimogs had their guns manned and ready to provide him with some cover fire if any predator turned up. Not the slightest bit worried, the female sphinx padded over to the gates.

Around him he could see more details of the station square and the zoo entrance. There were a couple metro entrances here and there, as well as vehicle ramps leading to parking spaces underneath the station. A gentle breeze pushed a crumpled newspaper past him, the piece of garbage coming from a tipped over trashcan next to a metro entrance.

The imposing bronze statues marking the zoo’s entrance had been built over the ticket booths. A large brass plate fitted over the fences proudly displayed the words ‘Dierentuin/Jardin zoologique’, the material shining brightly in the afternoon sun.

Farkas slowly peaked inside the gates, curious to see whether there was any activity inside but there was little he could make out: vegetation that hid the pens from sight. Smart gardening, you can’t see the animals without getting further inside and buying a ticket. There was a large shape lying prone in the shade of a tree just a little bit closer…

Despite Dilip’s insistent warnings on the radio, the sphinx still crept closer to take a look. The shape was actually the mangled corpse of a bear, half of the flash on its flank ripped off and eaten already. The body was in the middle of a puddle of dry blood, with bloody paw prints leading both in and out of the zoo.

“Farkas get out of there now! It’s too dangerous!” Dilip was ordering in the radio, forgoing usual communications procedures.

The Chief Steward was about to acknowledge the Captain’s order and move back to close the gate when a white blur burst out screaming from the trees, bounced off his back and ran away faster than he could track it. Three more blurs followed the same way, running a short distance before clambering onto a building and onto the rooftops, disappearing from view.

“Uh.” Farkas sniffed. “Guess they had lemurs too.” He commented on the radio, looking in the direction the monkeys had run off to.

“And if you’ll look behind you, you’ll see the reason that got them running like that. Over.” Artyom drawled over the radio.

Farkas’ blood froze over as he slowly turned his head back towards the zoo. A deep rumbling sound came from the trees as a pride of about eight lions rounded a corner and came into sight. They were led by one very large male with a black mane at the front, the females forming a loose circle around two cubs in the middle of the formation.

The task of closing the gates forgotten, Farkas slowly backed out towards the trucks. The lions had clearly spotted him (his orange coveralls didn’t help) and had altered their path towards him.

Farkas was halfway to the trucks when another rumble came from a metro entrance just behind him, followed shortly by the sound of cackling laughter.

“Oh for the love of God…” He muttered.

Out of the metro crawled a large monstrous creature. It was easily larger than a buffalo, with the front body of a saber-toothed tiger, the rear half of a giant goat whose head protruded out of its back at a sickening angle; and finally the tail of the creature was actually the body of a very large serpent. All three heads were looking at the Greek sphinx maliciously, with the serpent licking its lips hungrily and the goat cackling madly.

Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“Bad news Farkas, you’re in the way. We can’t fire our guns without risking hitting you as well.Try to step aside if you can. Over.” Artyom told the sphinx through his earpiece, the ex-VDV’s voice oddly calm despite the imminent danger.

Absolutely fantastic then. Farkas looked back to the pride of lions to see the male growling at two females who grabbed the cubs by the scruff of their neck and quickly left the area through a side street. The lion gave a satisfied growl before turning its attention back to the sphinx and the (Farkas decided to call it that because it matched mythological descriptions) chimera.

Farkas discreetly tried to slip away but all creatures on the square had their entire attention focused on him. The snake on the chimera’s tail spotted the trucks behind it and whispered something to the other heads. With a sadistic smile on its three muzzles, the chimera silently interposed itself between the Chief Steward and the trucks.

“Going somewhere, tasty kitty kitty?” The tiger head spoke up in a garbled feminine voice. Every time a word left the monster’s mouth its head was rocked by a tick.

“But it’s not sssssafe.” The serpent head said, talking as if it was halfway through downing an entire barrel of booze.

The goat head just cackled madly, tongue lolling out of its mouth and sending spittle flying on the tiger’s back, which caused it to snap its jaws at the goat in annoyance. The sharp movement allowed Farkas to notice a glowing sigil burned in the creature’s flesh, right behind the tiger’s ear.

“Kiiittens like you s-sh-should stay with their pride.” The serpent stuttered, eliciting a dumb nod from the goat head.

The chimera slowly started advancing on the Greek who subconsciously found himself backing away from the large monster. Off in the distance he could see the gunners on the trucks tracking the monster’s movements, ready to open fire whenever they got a clear shot.

Pity the monster seemed to be conscious of that as well. How come it was so intelligent when the others they had encountered before were mere animals? That couldn’t even talk?

Farkas accidentally bumped into something warm as he backed away. He didn’t need to turn around on his four legs to figure out it was one of the lions: the breathing that rustled his mane told him enough. The sphinx clinched his jaw, nerves on the verge of breaking.

“Ssssssee? Kitty-kitty with pride now. Good?” The serpent hissed. “Kitty isssss good meal, very tasssty, but meal better with more kitties, no?”

Maybe it was because he kinda looked like a lion, maybe it was his smell, he had no idea exactly why but the male lion he accidentally backed into didn’t seem to take umbrage at the collision. Out of the corner of his eyes Farkas saw the lion slink around his side and come up right beside him, brushing his mane against his flank and sending thrills in his wings under his clothes. He wanted to keep his attention entirely on the chimera but the big cat wasn’t making it easy. Thankfully, the chimera had stopped its approach upon seeing the lion step up, with the lionesses fanning out on its flanks. Having a lion so close was making Farkas particularly nervous, especially when he noticed how much bigger than him it was.

The lion let out an inquisitive purr at the sphinx before leaning in to sniff his mane. Farkas instinctively jumped to the side; worried it was now attacking him but the big cat only stared. It padded over to him once again and straight up licked him in the face.

Right then the Greek was pretty sure he heard Artyom burst out laughing on the radio, despite the tension of the situation.

Farkas backed away once more from the lion, tail tucked between his legs and ears pressed against his head. The lion made to approach once again before Farkas flicked his head towards the chimera.

Get the poontang out of your mind Simba, there is a monster in front of you.

The lionesses didn’t seem to like the male’s behavior either, as they were now glaring jealously at the sphinx.

Thankfully the horny male seemed to catch his drift, immediately turning on his paws to roar defiantly at the snarling chimera in front of them.

Which might not have been the best of ideas. The chimera, previously held at bay by the lionesses threatening it, reacted badly to the challenge and lunged at the male, its goat head cackling gleefully. The lion and Farkas managed to jump to the side and dodge the attack, the motion making the sphinx’s old wounds ache.

“Kittens think they strong? Kittens wrong!” The tiger head yelled, batting an attacking lioness away with its paw while the serpent head snapped at another that was trying to sneak in an attack on its rear.

What followed, Farkas wasn’t too sure of. He later remembered grabbing a bayonet from a holster on his jacket in his telekinesis and throwing it directly at the tiger head of the chimera. By chance, the weapon lodged itself in its eye making the monster scream out in pain. By then, the sphinx was overcome by his instincts and charged head on into the fight, past the line of lionesses circling the chimera.

In one big jump, Farkas cleared the distance separating him from the monster and, trusting his instincts, let out what felt like the mother of all burps. A plume of yellow gas left his mouth and covered the chimera completely. He saw its muscles lock up immediately upon contact with the gas, paralyzing it instantly.

Uncaring of what happened to the chimera, the pride or even his forgotten bayonet, the sphinx sprinted towards the trucks as fast as he could. He jumped in the cargo bay of one of the unimogs, not caring whether it was his or not. The sailors in the convoy didn’t need to be given the order before gunning it and driving away from the square, back to the ship.

Behind them, the lionesses were mercilessly ripping apart the paralyzed chimera which couldn’t even scream in pain. The male lion wasn’t taking part in the assault, instead staring wistfully in the direction the convoy had left. In its mouth, it held a bloody bayonet.

Three days earlier.

The past few days had been… weird to say the least. She had quickly noticed she was utterly, completely alone, not only in the building, but in the city as well. Soon after waking up after the fateful evening when she had discovered the changes she had undergone; the mare had tried to explore the area and call out for help in the neighborhood.

Bad idea.

She had barely managed to escape death at the jaws of some kind of dogs made out of wood. Only by discovering a new ingrained defense mechanism did she manage to lose the dogs and run back to the building. Turns out, she had been granted instincts that made her scream out sonic attacks whenever she felt threatened. Neat… but puzzling.

She was starting to catch on to some of the more subtle changes that came with her transformation. There might even be an underlying theme in there she had thought once back inside the building: sensitive hearing, night vision, ability to hear radio waves (she had tested with some of the periodic signals the building sent out, MF was rather easy to hear from afar and, if she focused, she could even hear VHF signals most of the time) and the sonic attack. She had yet to try it out but she was pretty sure she could achieve echolocation in the long run.

If she lived that long that is.

The wooden dogs were one thing, but then had come the matter of food. Most of what had been left in the fridge in the rec room was already spoiled, and she only managed to salvage some biscuits and snacks out of a few cabinets (which had been extremely hard to open with only hooves). Those had lasted her a day at best, but now she needed more.

There was a gas station close by, but it was too exposed and directly in the path of the dogs. No good then, and she didn’t want to survive on junk food anyway.

Looking through the offices yielded her a map of the area published by the municipality highlighting local shops and businesses. There was a supermarket just a kilometer away from where she was.

With great difficulty, she managed to shove the map into a small sized backpack she put on her back. She had already memorized a route that had her pass through ‘safe’ areas where she was less likely to be spotted. She would come back to the building afterwards of course: it had power, running water and a fenced perimeter. Nothing to scoff at.

Her route had her sneak out of the back of the building’s grounds and into a park. Her small size allowed her to sneak around through the shrubs and hedge easily, and using her sensitive hearing made it easy to bypass threats. In as little as an hour she had gone from the park through some posh suburbs and finally to her goal where she packed as much food as she could.

Most of the fresh aisles in the supermarket were now turned into literal fly nests, but canned and dry food was very much good to go. Her small backpack didn’t fit much content, but hopefully it would last her long enough to achieve her long term plan.

She made a point of taking a can opener before leaving. One she could operate with her mouth since her hooves were no good.

Once back to the building, she cooked herself a can of baked beans using the rec room’s microwave. She had other sorts of food available but, having no idea what exactly her new form was able to eat yet, she took the safe option. Her eating wasn’t exactly what she’d call dignified but at least she got some food in her stomach.

Now that her situation was more or less stabilized, she could get on with the fun part. The building she was in wasn’t just a regular building that happened to have a few radio antennas on top, no.

It was actually the control point of the Danish coast radio stations, and it operated on all frequencies except HF.

The little purple mare trotted inside the control room where the workstations to manage radio communications were installed. Her mind was already flashing with radio procedures and range estimations. She could try satellite comms, but radio would have to go first.

The batpony took her usual position in a cubicle on the far side of the room, her small stature forcing her to climb on the chair and sit on her haunches. A picture of her former human self cradling her baby sister with her mother behind them was attached to a side of the cubicle. She stopped to look at it for a couple seconds, the hints of tears in her eyes before she shook off the sadness. No time for that just yet.

She didn’t expect to be able to manipulate the controls using her hooves, but she had an inkling of an idea she wanted to try out. The digits in her wings might be able to do what her hooves couldn’t.

She concentrated and tried to move the wings a bit.

The appendages twitched pitifully on her back.

Then again, she didn’t expect to achieve it in only one day.

Author's Notes:

Bit of a frustrating chapter to write since I wanted to finish the Antwerp arc this week and wound up having to cram the last outboard expeditions in there, but now I can get the plot moving towards different waters.