“What do you mean ‘there are no bases in Copenhagen’?”

“Well, there are some but not the type where you’d find the guns you want.” Sandra told Roberto.

In the evening, the secretary had invited the thestral in his office to have her share what she knew of the area. There were several targets they needed to find within the city, most important of all being a base to arm the sailors of Rhine Forest.

Except there was a bit of a hick with that particular task.

“My charts here tell me the city has a navy base.” The black cat said, pointing a paw at a freshly printed map of the city.

“In the past, ja. Now it’s really just a navy museum with a couple old ships for tourists to visit. They do moor there sometimes but that’s about it.” Sandra explained.

Roberto’s scarred ear twitched and he shifted his paw to another spot on his map.

“What about that one?”

“Not much of a base either. It’s a military academy. You might find a couple weapons there or at the Kastellet which is supposed to do military intelligence…” The mare said after checking out the map briefly.

“… But not as many as from a fully fledged base, got it.” Roberto completed the sentence, pinching his muzzle in frustration. “Fine, let’s admit I’m going about it wrong. Did you have any friend that enlisted in the military before the Event?”

“There was the one back in high school...” She mused.

“And did he mention at any point a place, some barracks where he’d have gone to do basic, or even his first assignment? As in, a fully fledged base, not a white-shirts-and-ties office?”

The mare frowned in concentration, her two large yellow eyes crossing in front of her short muzzle for a minute before she turned back to the cat with a wide smile that showed off her fangs.

“Slagelse!” She said. “There was a recruitment center inside of a base he went to. I remember it now.”

“Sla-gel-se…” Roberto typed on his computer, which spat out a location a hundred kilometers away from their position. The place was still on the same island and close enough to a highway that he could reliably justify selecting it as a salvaging target. “Well, grazie Miss Jensen, with that we should be able to arm the guys from the Rhine.”

“Please call me Sandra.” The mare smiled, brushing a webbed wing through her messy white mane. “Was the military base all you needed? Sri said he wanted to show me how things worked on board.”

“There is more actually.” The Italian cat said leaning back in his seat and flexing his legs under the desk. He may have been out of the splint for his injury, but the articulations still tended to ache by the end of the day. “I need your actual address so we can get you your belongings, and I’d like some suggestions.”

“It’s as I told the Captain. My houseboat is moored in the hook of the southern canal in Christianshavn, but I thought I would go along for that?” She cocked her head.

“Of course you will. I just needed the location to know if we could salvage from somewhere else on the same trip.” He said, jotting down the position on the map. The place was basically on their doorstep.

Glancing up at the batpony mare, the Italian hesitated for a bit, not really knowing how much he could tell her about the HPI. The Captain had yet to mention to whom they were allowed to talk about the organization.

“You see, at the Captain’s behest, our ship has begun to gather pieces of art for preservation.” Not really for the sake of art, they just intended to trade them to a shady UN-born organization for parts, but he needn’t tell her that. “We know they would rot away if left abandoned in decrepit buildings, which is why we put them in deep storage inside of containers with controlled atmosphere. I would not be mistaken to believe Copenhagen hosts some impressive collections now, would I?”

“That’s such a brilliant idea!” Sandra beamed before propping herself up on his desk, one wing pointing at several places on the map. “There, here and there you’d find some pretty neat paintings, particularly there inside of the SMK.”

“I’m sorry, SMK?” The cat asked, one ear lowered in bemusement.

“Statens Museum for Kunst. The national art museum, it’s near Rosenborg castle so you can secure the crown’s jewels on the same trip.” She explained.

The two of them went on discussing for a moment, switching between art related locations and some more practical ones. Roberto had already put the UN city building on the list, but Sandra had to add that there was also a UNICEF supply depot in the city, though she had no idea where it actually was. The Maersk HQ was another target the cat was surprised to add to the list. Schmitt would be delighted to hear of it, busy as the dragon was with trying to figure out a solution for fuel in the long run. That particular shipping company had an offshore and drilling branch, meaning they could possibly get hold of some precious time-saving data there. The clock was still running until fuel left in depots became unusable, and even though six months left them plenty of time they had to find a solution eventually.

By the time the thestral left his office, Roberto was left with plenty of potential targets on his list. Raiding them all would take them quite a while, but the HPI still had to tell them when they would be able to make their delivery, so they had plenty of time to spare.

The very next day, a team was assembled with crewmembers from both vessels. Amandine gladly lent Rhine Forest’s crewmembers two lorries to carry the gear, ammo and weapons they were going to retrieve from the base in Slagelse. One of their unimogs accompanied the convoy, loaded with a couple armed sailors from Amandine tasked with keeping the convoy safe. It took them a while to get the convoy properly prepped for the trip, the sailors from Amandine telling the ones from the barge carrier about their procedures. They had a bit of an argument about which ship would dispatch an officer to accompany the expedition before a game of heads-or-tail wound up designating the Rhine’s Second Engineer, a griffon, as the leader. The guy was shown all the plans and maps before they finally managed to get the convoy on the way, a whole two hours behind schedule.

With Amandine’s crew having to escort the convoy and keep watch of the terminal’s access points, not many sailors were left to take care of other duties. Artyom had decided to stay behind at the terminal to work on building his kill house inside a warehouse close to where they had moored their ship. The Russian didn’t have many hands to help him with that, but plenty of materials to go around and assemble the training ground according to his plans. Alejandro had insisted on the place being able to be used for firefighting training as well, to which the Russian didn’t object, though that made the assembly process a lot longer.

There were a few sailors from Rhine Forest that had come out to help them, or at least to start checking out the contents of containers around the terminal. Most of them were still in the process of getting their clothes and shoes refitted for their new bodies, though that number was quickly decreasing. Farkas had left in the morning to teach their sphinxes and unicorns how to control their telekinesis, which should add a couple heads to their available manpower once she was done.

Around noon, a tanker truck and a Defender left Amandine to go retrieve some diesel fuel from the port’s shore tanks, led by Angelo. They wanted to dispatch some crewmembers to fetch a barge and get more fuel for the main engine, but that task would have to be postponed until they had enough manpower to actually do it. In the meantime, they could only compensate for the daily consumption of the generators.

All in all, a pretty busy start of the day for everyone involved. Very few had any free time to spare, and those that did were sooner rather than later given tasks by passing Officers. In Dilip’s case, the dog had just gotten out of a meeting with Captain Gerig to discuss whether or not the Rhine could be modified in the same fashion as his crew had done with Amandine’s workshop. The topic had then been transferred to the barge carrier’s own Chief Engineer to let the centaur figure out what they could possibly do to improve her. A couple ideas had flown around between the two Captains, but nothing conclusive until an actual engineer could verify their viability.

Meanwhile in Amandine’s cafeteria, Micha had just been relieved from her watch by Geert. The female parrot’s condition with his injured hip was slowly improving, though he still had to keep it immobilized most of the time. On the bright side, his reeducation phase had already begun when Vadim told him he could start slowly walking for short periods of time on the gym’s treadmill.

Micha plopped down in a chair in front of Vadim, the other griffon just being busy sipping from a cup of coffee after coming back from a visit in the Rhine’s infirmary to help Doctor Delacroix take care of the injured.

“Paperwork?” Vadim asked in Polish after spotting a couple sheets of paper poking out of his friend’s pockets.

“Tasks to be done, training to be scheduled, and never enough people to spare for it.” She sighed. “I just got assigned to a small mission in downtown Copenhagen.”

“Art retrieval?”

“Nah, I’m being sent with Miss Jensen to recover some of her stuff from her houseboat.” Micha said, pulling out the sheet of paper for emphasis. “Nothing big, just Sri, her and me in a Defender; shouldn’t take long. How’s it going for you?”

“Just taking care of the injured on both ships. Geert’s hip is getting better by the day, and Roberto and Niko are basically good as new if you don’t count the scars.”

“Yeah, pretty sure the Scarface nickname is gonna stick in Nikola’s case…” Micha commented about the scar that crossed the gargoyle’s muzzle.

“Sorry about that, but I’m no plastic surgeon.” Vadim said before taking a sip of his coffee. “Bart’s bill of health is almost clear as well, so that leaves only the guys on the Rhine.”

“Bad cases?”

“There were a couple worries along the way but they’re all stable. Problem is, their medical staff is still injured, but once they get better I should be able to avoid having to play doctor anymore.” The grey falcon griffon said with a smile on his beak.

“About that uh…” Micha muttered, talons hovering above a sheet of paper in her pocket. “The Captain came up with something for you.” She said, handing the Third Officer the paper.

“Come on now, can’t be that bad.” Vadim said before he grabbed the file in his claws. He looked down at it for a couple seconds before his face fell. “I stand corrected, it is that bad.”

“Well, try to look at it from his perspective; it does make sense to have you do that.” Micha tried.

“My ass it does! Who the fuck does he think I am? Some kinda nurse? Advanced medical training, the hell does he mean by that?” Vadim raised his voice and let out an angry squawk, the ruckus drawing the attention of other sailors inside the room. “Cholera! I’m supposed to steer this goddamn ship and keep watch, so what’s this retarded bzdura with sticking me with medical duties all the time?! Everyone gets to go out and I’m stuck on board with my claws up my ass playing nurse.”

Micha let him carry on with his rant for a minute or two before she kicked him in the shin under the table. The Ukrainian fell back down in his seat and finally shut his beak, they didn’t need an Officer throwing a tantrum in the middle of the cafeteria.

“Vadim.” She said, looking her friend straight in the eyes. “Doc Delacroix is, at the moment, the most medically certified person we have available. I know for one thing that the training of a Deck Officer is beyond that of a regular nurse, which means you are a direct second to her. Ever heard the thing about not putting all your eggs in one basket? Right now, that’s what we’re trying to correct, roger?”

“Yeah I know bu-“

“No buts.” She cut him off. “I want you to think, for one second, of what would have happened if any of the injuries received during the course of this whole shitstorm had been even slightly worse. What would have happened then uh? Could you have saved Bart if his wound was just a centimeter deeper?”

“No I wouldn’t.” Vadim admitted through a gritted beak, head held low.

“That is precisely the problem. We’ve been lucky. That won’t last. That’s why we need you to get over your sorry ass and take that training. Delacroix is only one person and she’s already injured which further proves my point.”She said.

“Alright, alright, you’re right.” Vadim stopped her with a raised claw. “No need to run your beak for hours, I’ll do it.” He sighed. “Can’t say I’ll like it though.”

“And you don’t have to. No biggie about the chewing out?”

“Nah… kinda was deserved to be honest.” Vadim shook his head before standing up.

“And where are you going now?” The female griffon asked.

“To the infirmary. Might as well rip off the band-aid now before I change my mind, Delacroix’s gonna want a look at all the medical research I’ve gathered. See you in the evening for flight training?” He asked.

“Yeah, see you this evening.” She nodded, watching the Ukrainian depart, leaving behind a half finished cup of coffee.

Micha waited a bit before heading down to the armory. She still had plenty of time before having to leave on her expedition, and from a cursory glance at her maps it wasn’t even that far. Alejandro had briefly mentioned she should be on the lookout for anything they could make use of, but chances were low she would find anything of vital importance in downtown Copenhagen (art notwithstanding).

She definitely would make a detour to see the Little Mermaid tho’.

There wasn’t too much activity inside the armory except for Bart who was working on one of their FNC’s at a workbench. The blue furred unicorn was fiddling with a couple spare picatinny rails with his telekinesis, probably in an attempt to have better optics on their more common rifle variant. The Belgian stallion had his work cut out for him since there was absolutely no standard scope fitting on the black rifles, unlike their much less common SCAR’s which they reserved for experienced sailors like the vets.

Micha rasped her throat to let the guy know she was here, the Corporal giving her a grunt of acknowledgment before focusing on his work once more. She didn’t need his help; she already knew what she was looking for.

The weapons and gear were stored in multiple cages, each with a different mechanical code lock. She retrieved her flak jacket from one, most of the pouches already set for the weapons she wanted to bring along. The initial pouches for assault rifle mags had been replaced by smaller ones for her hunting rifle’s five-round mags, and most of the rear Kevlar plate had been removed to better fit her wings. She still couldn’t open them as long as she had the jacket on, but at least the vest didn’t bust her back like when she first tried it out.

She had been tempted to take a regular assault rifle, but they’d need at least some 7.62 (or .308 in this case) firepower for the trip. A full blown machinegun was a bit much for the task, but her bolt-action hunting rifle would do the trick just fine. She was pretty sure Sri would take a SCAR anyway.

Making sure she signed on a list attached to the cages what gear she was taking; the bald eagle griffon grabbed her rifle and a Browning Hi-Power. Many sailors preferred to take the Five-Seven pistols they also had in store, but according to rumors she had heard about the encounter in Lyngby their ammo lacked in the stopping power department. She was pretty damn sure 9mm Parabellum wouldn’t.

Micha used the armory’s interphone to call Sri and tell the Indonesian to start getting ready for the trip, reminding him that Sandra still needed to be fitted with a set of K9 armor, her equine frame being too small for their flak jackets. They might need some time to do that, what with Sandra needing to keep her wings free considering they stood in for actual hands.

This left her ample time to grab ammunition for Sri and her (Sandra not being trained to or even able to use a gun) and start preparing their Land Rover. The guys from engineering had already done a remarkable job modifying the little 4x4 trucks for rugged work. The one blue Defender 130 she had pulled out of storage -one with a white paintjob not too dissimilar to their unimog with the UN paintjob- had been equipped with a snorkel, an external roll cage and bull bars. The external framework carried extra headlights above the cab, a pair of winches on both ends of the vehicle and a couple aluminum plates to protect the cargo bay’s tarpaulin from impacts. A pair of spare tires was attached to either side of the cargo bay, and finally a trio of folded antennas poked out of the roof rack, an indication of the radio equipment installed inside the cab.

Honestly, with the exception of a turret ring, the vehicle wouldn’t have looked out of place on the roster of a blue helmet mission. Whoever had done the modifications had also taken the time to put stickers on the wings of the truck that read ‘M/V Amandine IMO 9424871’ in addition to a black anchor symbol over the hood. All in all, Nikola hadn’t done a bad job on the trucks.

Micha took her time running checkups on the vehicle, as redundant as it was considering it had just gotten out of their workshop. Even the tank was filled to the brim, thanks to the addition of a fuel pump in the workshop that made it so they didn’t have to bring vehicles to the lowest deck (in which they had installed diesel tanks for the vehicles only) to fill them.

Sri eventually turned up after a couple minutes of waiting, Sandra following closely behind, her small orange coveralls now covered by a set of K9 armor that let out her wings.

“Sri, Jensen.” Micha nodded to them. “Truck’s ready, your ammo is on the passenger seat. How is your back?”

“Not too bad.” The female ivory white hippogriff said. “Aches a bit, but the wound is fine.” He commented before starting to load his mags. As expected, he had gone with a SCAR as his main weapon, with a FN 303 in his pistol holster. They always made sure each group had one of the less-lethal weapons, just in case they found something that wasn’t a monster.

“Impatient to get your stuff back Miss Jensen?” Micha asked as she inputted the houseboat’s address in the GPS.

“Call me Sandra, please. But yes, I really have nothing to my name at the moment do I?” She said.

“Which we’re gonna correct within the hour.” Micha said. “I don’t think you have a key with you?”

“I keep one under a pot next to the door.” The dark purple thestral said, struggling a bit to open the rear door, the truck’s high ground clearance not helping her small stature.

“At least that means we won’t have to bust the door open.” Sri said, sliding the last bullet in mags and loading it in his rifle. He didn’t pull the cocking handle, yet. “No pets we should be afraid of I hope? Though with how long it’s been…”

“Yeah my goldfish is dead. I figured that.” Sandra chuckled ruefully as she climbed in the rear of the cab. “But was there ever any problem with other animals?” She asked, closing the door.

“Packs of feral dogs can be trouble, but a couple stray shots above their heads usually send them away. If that doesn’t work, well…” The hippogriff tapped a talon against his grenade pouch in which he had a couple stun and tear gas grenades. “Grenades make enough of a bang to chase them away. No Molotov though, Micha?”

“Worried about wood hounds? I thought you guys killed them all in Lyngby?” The Second Officer cocked her head.

“Can’t know for sure. Do you at least have the flammable pepper spray?” Sri asked, almost ready to head back to the ammo containers to grab something.

“Yeah I do.” Micha reassured him. “But come on now, I’m sure it won’t be that bad and we can get away quickly if that happens.”

“Better hope we can…” Sri grumbled through his beak.

Just like they usually did, Micha rolled the Defender to the stern ramp once everyone was seated. They quickly did a radio check before asking the bridge for permission to leave, getting an instant approval. The 4x4 finally drove off the ramp slowly (so as to avoid another Aleksei incident) and headed for the terminal’s exit.

Sandra’s residence in Christianshavn was a mere fifteen minutes drive away. The trio traversed the city easily, the only block in their way being spilled trashcans and litter caused by the numerous dog packs that roamed the city. Either the population had been culled by the wood hounds and zoo animals, or they had simply fled to the countryside where food was more plentiful because they didn’t spot any on the way. The streets of downtown Copenhagen were completely different from those of Antwerp: where the Flemish port’s streets could be considered narrow and somewhat oppressive, Copenhagen’s were a lot more open thanks to careful urban planning. Most of the buildings and storefronts sported warm, lively colors that had yet to fade away from disuse. Coupled with the local architects’ seeming love of copper sheet roofing, Copenhagen enjoyed a rather colorful palette. The city was also a lot greener: trees were planted at regular intervals, even this deep inside the city’s centre. The surroundings of the Kastellet as it was called (a star-shaped fortress Micha remembered because it was next to the Little Mermaid) even housed a particularly lush park. None of the vegetation bore the marks of wood hounds, which served to reassure the three of them, but it was also made it clear that overgrowth would quickly overtake the city given a couple years.

Along the way, Micha tried to remain on the lookout for possible targets Roberto’s intel had failed to locate. She did notice several smaller museums and libraries, a couple tech companies in modern buildings they might have some use for and even some shops she felt like would yield interesting loot (though the last one was a personal opinion). She would leave it up to the cat secretary to figure out which of the locations were worth hitting.

Their 4x4 crossed the bridge that led to the eastern side of the city, the structure marked by two towers covered in copper plates that had turned green from the patina. They were now in Christianshavn, the district differing ever so slightly from the rest of the town by its simpler, more modern architecture but much more colorful buildings. Many facades were entirely painted, with colors ranging from yellow to red, with the odd speck of blue or green among the lot. Sandra pointed them to a narrow paved street that bordered the canal running through the center of the district.

A couple small houseboats were moored to the along the quays, the shadow from rows of trees that separated the road from the canal protecting them from the warm rays of the sun. Some had even broken away from the quays and sunk in the middle of the canals after being abandoned for so long. The odd thing was that, according to a comment from Sandra, there should be a lot more of them than the number they were seeing. Moored houseboats must have counted as occupied vehicles then, a specificity of the Event they had been quick to notice…

Their batpony companion pointed them to a converted barge moored in a corner of the canal. The housing structure was built out of the hull of an old coal carrying barge, its machinery now replaced by living appliances and an apartment replacing the wheelhouse. A single ramp led to the main deck, a rusty bicycle attached to it on the quay side. Many flower pots lined the sides of the deck, now either overgrown or dead from dehydration. There were also hints of rust and algae creeping up the flanks of the boat, though not enough to threaten it.

Micha parked as close as she could to the former vessel, cargo bay pointed towards the gangway. As she backed the vehicle in place, she could see Sri observing the area around them like a hawk, one talon ready to bring up his rifle at a moment’s notice.

“Notice anything?” Micha asked him, following the hippogriff’s gaze.

“Just wary is all.” Sri said. “You two grab Sandra’s stuff, I’ll be keeping watch.” He added before opening his door and climbing on the Defender’s roof in one swift motion.

While the veteran was keeping an eye on the area for them, Sandra led Micha to her soon to be former home. As the batpony had claimed, there was a spare key by the entrance, which allowed the two of them to easily enter the houseboat. The inside that greeted them was rather cramped and hard to get around for quadrupeds like Micha. Sandra didn’t really have that problem since she had shrunk quite a bit more than the griffon after the transformation, but she was also much shorter than the furniture.

From Micha’s perspective, she could see a small kitchen and a narrow dining hall on one side, and a hallway that led to the cabins on the other. The atmosphere was slightly oppressive, with dark hues used to paint walls that were cluttered with decorations, pictures and banners.

“You weren’t living there alone I guess?” Micha asked her.

“No I wasn’t.” Sandra shook her head. “Me and a couple childhood friends used to rent it before… you know.” She said with a wave of her wing. “We all came from the same neighborhood and we wanted to stick together for ‘the big life’ in the city.”

“How come the place is empty then? By our experience, if a vehicle is occupied then it disappears along with anyone inside.”

“Gone partying.” Sandra explained. “They were out celebrating a birthday in Freetown. I was supposed to join them after work.” She sighed while looking at a group photo next to the TV.

Taller than Sandra as she was, Micha managed to get a look at the picture. In it, a group a young adults was sitting at a table on the deck of the houseboat during summer, each with a cocktail in hand and smiles on their faces.

“If this makes it any better for you, maybe they will get to reappear together.” Micha tried.

“It doesn’t… but thanks.” Sandra gave the griffon a small smile. “You mind if I leave them a message?”

“You can write with these wings?” Micha raised a white feathery brow.

“I’ll manage.” Sandra gave a semblance of a shrug with her wings. She moved towards a small chalkboard next to the kitchen’s door, on which the line ‘Dagens Menu’ was written. The batpony propped herself up against the wall and took hold of a piece of chalk. “This might take me a little while to do that…” She told Amandine’s Second Officer sheepishly.

“No worries, mind if I go ahead and start grabbing stuff for you?”

“Sure! My cabin is the last one down the passageway over there.” The batpony pointed with a hoof. “It’s got my name on the door, can’t miss it.”

Micha nodded softly and moved off to take care of Sandra’s stuff. The passageway was particularly narrow, being only wide enough for two people and even then they would have to squeeze to pass each other. A couple round portholes provided light, sunrays entering at an angle which revealed the amount of dust floating in the air from the houseboat being unoccupied for a while. She found Sandra’s room as indicated, next to the door that led to the boat’s bathroom.

Contrarily to the rest of the houseboat, the room shed the cramped and oppressive feeling for a more pleasant atmosphere. The walls were painted a soft shade of white, with a blue ceiling in the center of which she could see a skylight. Paired with a single porthole, the two openings managed to brighten up the room and make it appear larger than it really was.

The griffon didn’t waste time gaping at the sight and set to grab a pair of travel bags from under the bed. Bed sheets and a blanket were the first thing to get crammed inside, quickly followed by some electronics she found on the desk: laptop, hard drive, an IPod, pretty much the standard fare for a young adult living in a big city. She didn’t find any Smartphone around, but Sandra’s must have either been lost in the fire or she had it in her cabin on Amandine already. She would be issued one with satellite connectivity anyway.

Photo albums, books and a CD collection came next. Micha didn’t bother looking at the titles, most were in Danish in any case so it’s not as if she could have understood it regardless. It took her a couple minutes to pick what she thought their newest crewmember would like to have before she opened the skylight and lifted the first bag on the deck. Sitting back down on her haunches, she glanced alternatively between the skylight and her wings, the appendages currently restrained by her flak jacket.

“You want to fly?” Sandra asked her, surprising the Pole and making her jump up with a loud squawk.

“Kurde!” She swore. Damn, bloody batpony could be surprisingly quiet. “And, yes, I wish I could try out those wings but that flak jacket is no good for that. You done with your message?”

“Hopefully if my friends reappear they will find it…” Sandra sighed. “I wanted to leave them a vlog but I don’t know how long it will take them so I just left a note on the chalkboard and a letter on the table.”

Micha gave the little equine a sympathetic pat on the back before asking her what more she’d like to take. There wasn’t even that much to pick from, but they still filled the second bag with clothes she might be able to refit someday, old souvenirs and other memorabilia. It wasn’t too soon before they loaded the bags inside their Defender and drove away from the quay. Sandra had a wistful look on her muzzle as she looked back towards the diminishing houseboat before Micha eventually rounded a corner and her former home disappeared from view.

“You alright there Sandra?” Sri asked her worriedly.

“Yeah…” She said quietly. “It’s just… the radio station’s gone… now I just packed away my belongings and left my home…” Her wings and ears drooped. “You ever felt like you turned a significant page in your life?”

“Last time something like that happened to me was when I left the navy.” Sri said. “End of the World aside of course.” He added before Micha could open her beak. “It’s rough when it happens, and you having to venture alone in that new part of your life without any former friends or family to lean on doesn’t help. Everyone is still trying to figure out what they’re gonna make of themselves, so you might as well take the opportunity yourself, see what you can improve on.”

“Have you figured it yet?” Sandra asked honestly.

The female hippogriff’s features soured for a second before he put on a stoic face.

“No I haven’t.” He said in a whisper. “I’m still trying to figure out what my… principles should make of those changes. Anyway, we’re off to see that Little Mermaid then Micha?”

The Indonesian’s sudden change of the subject didn’t go unnoticed, but neither of his two companions felt like trying to get him to open up. Micha made a point of remembering to bring this up with Nikola or Artyom when they got back; the two of them were closest to him and would know how to approach the vet.

Trying to brighten up the mood, Sandra began to tell the two sailors stories about the city as their 4x4 drove towards the famous landmark. She knew a fair deal about the area, pointing out bars and places she used to hang out at with her friends. According to her, the citadel next to the Little Mermaid had a rather nice park for picnics provided you went there off season without the tourists.

They drove past the Maersk HQ on their way there, the logo of a white star above a blue square hanging on the building’s façade. This was not their target for today, the building being way too large to explore between the three of them. Another group would come for that, but later. As for them, they profited from no one being there to enforce pedestrian areas and drove on footpaths that circled the citadel’s moat. A small rise of ground separated the moat from the actual sea which barely rose two meters above the water level before dipping back down, smooth rocks and concrete on the sea side preventing the construction from being eroded by the tides.

A short ways after a modern pavilion, they finally reached the mermaid. Micha stopped their Defender to go take a look at the bronze statue. There, just a meter or two away from the shore, the statue was placed on a pile of smooth rocks. A bit of patina had built up on her metallic skin since the Event, but it was still very much the icon of the city. Wavelets lapped at the rocks that made out its ‘pedestal’, bits of seaweed starting to cling to the pedestal.

“Now see that!” Micha said with a smile on her beak, one claw reaching for the pocket in which she usually put her phone. “No need to always feel down and gloomy. End of the World doesn’t mean we always have to be miserable.” She commented before snapping a picture of the statue. “That one is going in the Officers’ lounge.”

Not a minute after the three of them left the area; a wet, scaly head peeked above the water, its red eyes staring in the direction the 4x4 had taken.

A few hours later late in the afternoon, Geert had made his way to the armory after a session on the treadmill. His hip ached from the movement, but the scarlet macaw felt pretty confident he would eventually be able to shed the crutches he had been stuck with for the last few weeks. Having to hop around constantly was starting to get on his nerves.

He walked through the sturdy door that protected the armory’s entrance, voices with an Australian accent greeting him as he made his way inside. Bart was the only one inside, the unicorn having set a laptop down on a table, the device currently playing an episode of ‘Sea Patrol’. As for the stallion, he was still busy trying to figure out a way to attach accessories to their FNC’s.

“Having success with your idea yet?” Geert greeted him in Dutch. Regardless of any differences between his and Bart’s own dialects, having someone to talk to in his mother tongue felt better than speaking English any day. Not that he disliked the other sailors, it just felt more natural.

“Not really, no.” He said with a shake of his head. He still had his olive green mane cut short, and his brown beret tucked under the epaulette of his sweater. “I’ve got some ideas for scopes, but they all need me to do some extensive machining on the rails so I can fit them where the blank adaptor would go… But then again doing so might block off the iron sights if I don’t do it right, and there is the risk of the optics being inaccurate if the fitting isn’t tight enough. Vibrations from shooting don’t get along with delicate stuff like optics see.” He said, pointing his hoof at the dismantled rifle he had on his workbench next to a couple notes and drawings.

“Can’t say I know much about guns I’m afraid.” Geert shrugged. “Just remember to get it approved by one of the engineers before you do it. I don’t think many would be too happy if you started fiddling with the guns without telling anyone.”

“Don’t you worry about that. Nothing I’ve done as of yet was irreversible, I ain’t dumb. There is this one thing though, that would make it a hell of a lot easier…” The unicorn said; his horn lighting up and a notebook lifting off the workbench. “The FNC isn’t a common rifle by any stretch of imagination; it just uses simple, efficient mechanisms pioneered by other weapons like the FAL, Galil and AK families. There are some countries that have made their own versions however.”

“Indonesia you mean? That we know already, Sri told us.” Geert pointed out.

“Indonesia is one, but Sweden also produced their own variant. With scopes and rails. No iron sights or burst fire though.” Bart said. “I don’t know that much about these, but since we’re so close to Sweden, then maybe?”

“I’ll bring it up with the other Officers to see if we can take a look on the other side of the Oresund for an army base.” Geert told him. “Guns aside, how are you doing?”

“Wound’s getting better for one.” Bart said. He brushed a hoof against his injured neck, he still had some stitches in but at this point he was almost as good as new. “And I think my English is improving. But I am yet not good enough.”

“Not good enough yet.” Geert corrected politely. “And how’s morale?” The red feathered parrot sat down on a bench next to one of the weapon cages.

“Morale?”

“Yes, morale. You didn’t look too good when you woke up weeks ago, you told me yourself at the time.” He said waving his talons.

“And I had my reasons. I try not to think about it too much, what happened before the Event only serves to make me sad or angry.” The stallion said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know how you cope with life changing events, but I’d rather put it behind me lest it drags me down forever. But I could ask you the same thing, how are you coping with all those changes?”

“Easy enough I’d say. I keep getting caught on the extra joint mobility and prehensile feet but otherwise…” He shrugged. “I literally got promoted the moment we hit Zeebrugge and got a job as Fourth Officer on this ship, can’t complain really.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t complain either in your case. What I was trying to refer to was…”

“The female part, I know.”

“So? I heard about all sorts of cases on this ship. Your Chief Officer didn’t have his sexuality changed, but others did, which I can honestly understand however weird that must feel. Comes with the body you know…” The blue furred stallion got a distant look on his muzzle. “God knows I had some weird dreams about horses… or ponies, whatever. Lemme tell you, hooves aren’t the most practical thing, if you know what I mean. You?”

Despite his sitting position, Geert was still taller than the pony. He starred at him with a flat look for a second before clicking his large black and white beak.

“That’s really all you wanna know, don’t you?”

“Can’t help my curiosity, Officer.” Bart said in a fakely apologetic tone. “You gotta admit, it’s an interesting subject.”

“If you really got to know, I wound up bisexual for some reason, and I’d much rather ignore that newfound aspect and focus on my work.”

“Gonna bite you in the ass later you know? Can’t blame you for the decision and you’ve got my sympathy, but it will. In fact, I’d bet the more survivors we meet, the less you will be treated as male.” Bart warned his superior.

“I’ll take the risk.” Geert said, an annoyed trill escaping his beak. “Treated as female though?”

“Can’t expect anyone to figure at a glance you used to be male.” Bart said, already starting to turn back towards his workbench. “Everyone on this ship may know it, but others? They’ll be calling you Miss and she soon enough and you can’t blame them for not knowing.”

Geert’s narrow shoulders sagged a bit as the remark hit him. He knew that, he had met Jensen earlier that day and had to correct the batpony, hell, he even had to correct Bart the first time he talked to him. Not helping the case were crewmembers like Aleksei, Micha or even Farkas who didn’t seem to mind the change in appellation.

“It’s like struggling against the tide isn’t it?” He sighed.

“If only it was the tide, then you’d be suited to fight back, dutchie. Unfortunately…”

“I know, no need to rub it in.” Geert said with a dismissive wave of his talons.

Not willing to antagonize the only shipmate he could reliably talk to (and an Officer at that), Bart steered the conversation towards more neutral subjects, electing to start talking about hobbies, sports, anything but the impact of the Event on the sexuality of their genderbent shipmates. Turns out, Geert had some interesting topics to talk about, what with the parrot’s apparent passion for baseball. Not exactly the most common of choices in the Netherlands, but the sport did have its niche despite the lack of any world-renowned team or league. Bart had never played the sport seriously, unlike Geert whose eyes lit up at the mention of some interesting anecdotes on what happened in the big leagues.

Not an hour into their conversation, the two of them were disturbed by the ringing of the interphone. Alejandro was calling from the bridge to tell them to get the armory ready for a large influx of new guns; the convoy in Slagelse was heading back.

“Hold on, weren’t those weapons meant for the Rhine?” Geert asked the Chief Officer.

“They are. They just haven’t had the time to build an armory yet, so we’re keeping them safe in the meantime. Same goes for the ammunition, and from what I was told we can expect a ton of it. You guys think you can manage to make some room?”

And they could. The armory still had more than enough empty cages for the guns, they had made sure to build some extras during the construction of the new compartments in case they picked up more weapon systems or equipment in the future. Little effort was needed on the part of Bart and Geert to ready the cages, which was rather convenient since the time it took them to do it was just as long as it took the convoy to make its way back to the terminal.

And with the convoy came the surprise of the day. They didn’t encounter any hostile monsters during their expedition (though there were hints of monstrous presence in the region), nor did they find any survivor to rescue. What they did find however…

“You stole a goddamned tank?!” Alejandro burst out as he saw the vehicles they had brought back on some trailers attached to lorries they definitely didn’t have when they set out from Copenhagen.

“Not a tank, it’s an APC.” Rhine Forest’s Second Engineer pointed out. The griffon was a mix of a red kite on his avian half and an ocelot for the feline half going by the name of Valentyn, a Ukrainian.

“Semantics. What made you think we needed… those!” The hyacinth macaw said, pointing a talon at the armored vehicles on the trailers.

What he was gesturing at was a trio of camouflaged, eight-wheeled APC’s. Each of the vehicles was armed with a remotely operated turret on the front, their guns (fortunately) removed for transportation and the weapon system wrapped in a protective tarp. All of them were also equipped with slat armor around the hull and, from the apparent bolt here and there, additional ceramic armor plates. They were still soundly secured to their transport trailers… and apparently they had even taken an entire container worth of extra parts for the vehicles, all in accordance to Amandine’s standard salvaging procedures.

“For fighting monsters.” The griffon Engineer shrugged. “Should be a lot safer than the unimogs. And they mount .50 cals on the turret, that’s not the kind of firepower monsters can shrug off, no?”

“Yeah, ‘cause we sure like to go out of our way to pick a fight with these creatures.” Alejandro said sarcastically.

“They’re NBC protected. That’s got to have some use, right?”

“So now you want us to venture into Gothenburg?” Amandine’s Chief Officer was incredulous. “Listen…” He said, pinching his beak. “I get the intent, really, I do… but we’re not the military. Those things aren’t toys; we can’t just get in and drive them around like it’s nothing. It takes skill, training and most of all time to train crews for vehicles like that.”

It was exactly at that moment that Bart and Geert chose to come out of the armory. The military unicorn’s eyes immediately drifted to the APC’s and lit up with recognition. Neither Alejandro nor Valentyn missed the look, the griffon quickly putting the pieces together when he noticed the beret Bart was wearing.

“Piranhas, we used them in my unit.” The Belgian slowly declared. “Good vehicle, very sturdy.”

Fortunately for his sake, Bart completely missed the scathing look Alejandro was drilling in the back of his neck. Valentyn on the other claw was giving Amandine’s Chief Officer the cheekiest grin he had ever seen.

“Just put them in storage for now. We will have a word with the Captains later to see what use we can get out of them.” Alejandro sternly said.

The expedition’s other pick in military vehicle didn’t rouse nearly as much protest. They had grabbed an armored ambulance, a Duro as it was named. It was painted olive green, with red crosses on the hood and on its sides. It was also fairly long, with three axles supporting the hull which was raised fairly high so as to give it good ground clearance. Racks on the roof behind the ambulance’s emergency lighting might even allow it to assemble its own medical tent when out in the field. Nobody really had anything to say against that pick, it clearly could be of use if they ever had to send medical assistance to an expedition.

At that point, Alejandro didn’t look too much into what kind of equipment the sailors from the Rhine had picked. The Danish army weapons they had taken from the base were a mix of Canadian assault rifles with some German weapons added in the mix. Among that mix, Valentyn had also taken an honestly astounding amount of .50 cal machineguns, a lot more than what was needed to outfit the APC’s. The Engineer’s idea was to use the extras as crew served weapons to guard their checkpoints and as deck mounts to protect the direct vicinity of their ships.

In any case, all these weapons went in secure storage. Most of Rhine Forest’s crew didn’t have any experience with weapons yet, and security duties would have to be left to Amandine’s crew until they got some training.

Some seven hundred kilometers North-East of Copenhagen, activity was brewing. Stockholm, a city that used to be a beacon of modern society and Nordic culture was now nothing but a desert urban landscape, its inhabitants all having disappeared in the wake of the Event. The city was built in an area that had a rocky archipelago to protect it from the Baltic Sea, the waterways making for an intricate natural network of canals over which many bridges had been built to link the different districts.

On one such island in the very centre of the city was the Royal Palace. On the façade of the grand, square-shaped building, an emblem representing three crowns in a triangular pattern had been carved into the stone arch just above the gates.

This was the sight that greeted the group of ponies that suddenly appeared in the courtyard in a flash of light. There were five of the equines in the group: two unicorns, two pegasi, and one large earth pony. All of them were standing inside of a runic circle that had burned itself into the pavement of the courtyard, clad in travelling gear. Of all the ponies in the group, only one of the two pegasi was actually armed, and even then just with a small hunting crossbow to accompany the gambeson the stallion was wearing. The group’s apparent protector was giving the buildings around them a wary look, which was only shared by the earth pony stallion of the group.

The leader of the group, a red unicorn mare wearing a white hooded cloak quickly ran a check to make sure every part of their crossing had gone smoothly. Magical travel across humongous distances like that was no small feat, and the slightest mistake could lead to somepony, or worse, part of somepony being lost in the process. Once she was certain their situation was stable, she gave a subtle nod before motioning to her companions with a hoof.

“Alright everypony, time to find us some survivors.” She declared confidently. “Radiant, Gust, can you run a quick recon for us?” She asked the group’s two Pegasi. “Remember to stick together.”

“Yes ma’am.” Gust, the crossbowcolt, said firmly before taking off. The other Pegasus followed a couple seconds later, his reaction to the order nowhere near as quick as that of the armed Pegasus.

Back on the ground, the lead mare turned to the last two ponies of the group. The lanky yellow unicorn mare that served as her backup was looking giddy, her large curious eyes flicking in every direction as she tried to take in every aspect of that new alien city at once. Her companion however, had a much more cautious look on his muzzle. Good, she could use a big burly stallion that could keep his head on his shoulders, Earth Pony musculature was much too often dismissed.

“Cheese, Pulp, let’s work on finding a safe building to make camp. I need a safe place to start casting mage sight otherwise finding survivors will be harder than looking for a needle in a haystack blindfolded.”

Doctor Sidereal Venture was now on Earth, and she would be bucked all the way to Tartarus if she completed her route without finding any survivor.

Author's Notes:

Enter the Equestrians... Though getting all the way from the Stockholm archipelago to the Oresund is going to take them a while, and they might have a few nasty surprises on the way.

On a meta level I don't know why but the weekly views on this story plummeted last week. Might be related to Easter, or I managed to bore my reader base.