Soon after sunset, Sidereal had a couple of her team’s saddlebags brought to the quays alongside Amandine. Out of the large canvas bags came some intricate brass and copper parts that looked like they came straight out of steampunk fiction.

“Care to explain what this is all for?” Dilip asked her, eyeing the bits she kept pulling out of the bags with genuine curiosity.

“Communication. With Equus that is. Reports are hard to send, and return is even harder. Without an apparatus such as this one I’m assembling, the energy required to cross the divide is so high even a trained unicorn wouldn’t be able to overcome it without draining nearly all their energy with someone acting as a beacon on the other side. Think of this like… a signal booster I guess? Before our own expedition I know they sent a couple teams with only unicorns to avoid having to bring the equipment, but it was just too inefficient considering they had volunteers from the other tribes.” The red-furred mare explained.

Using her telekinesis, the Doctor started putting together the various parts and pieces. Five small tripods thus came into existence, all carefully arrayed in a circle. She also added a central piece to the construct, this one slightly bigger than the rest and with a lot of mobile parts and lenses jutting out at odd angles out of the thin bell-shaped brass plating that made up its 'core'. It also had an opening towards the top, which revealed a small copper receptacle recessed inside the machine.

With a flicker of her horn, the unicorn conjured a measuring tape and started checking the position of each tripod, mumbling distractedly as she adjusted their position.

“While I agree that in essence, it’s more practical to use this rather than a group of unicorns pooling their magic together… this isn’t exactly what I’d call easy.” Sidereal commented once she was sure the tripods were set up the right way.

“Because if you do the slightest mistake, you’ll send your report to the wrong planet. Typical.” Dilip crossed his arms.

“It can be capricious, yes. Particularly when it comes disassembled like this one, but we did manage to send our first report while we were in Sweden.”

Out of another saddlebag, she lifted a small wooden box along with a notebook. The box opened with a quiet ‘click’ to reveal five small engraved gems, a vial of white powder and a couple chalks.

“Salted chalk, silver nitrate and artificial foci.” Sidereal explained as she floated the gems into slots at the top of each tripod and the white powder into the central device. “If you need to ask, the gems are an approximation of a unicorn’s horn made to draw power from their surroundings, that’s what allows me to use the device without burning my own magic. The salted chalk is for drawing the summoning circle… I could use regular salt, but the chalk makes it more convenient.”

Dilip cocked his head to the side ever so slightly.

“So, on the departure point you need to draw the circle? I’m sorry if that sounds dumb Doctor, but all the monster-related circles we discussed earlier, they were burned into the ground, not drawn.”

“Circles that I have included in the report and data request I’ll be sending to my superiors… but they do need to be drawn at first." She paused to flick her mane to the side. "The arrival point is always burned, as is the departure point after the first use. Doesn’t prevent it from being used again though.”

“Used again? You mean we could theoretically reuse the demonic circles we found all over the place?”

“Technically yes. It would be incredibly stupid and suicidal to do that… but yes.” She nodded.

Sidereal quickly reviewed the circle she had drawn around her device, comparing it to a picture in a notebook. Satisfied with the result, the mare clasped the book shut with a satisfied smirk.

“While reusing the demonic circles is viable, no offense to your sailors but your capabilities are not sufficient that we should willingly head into the lair of what most likely is a dark mage… at best. Last time I reported to them about the monster we faced in Sweden they told me they had started some research on the matter, so hopefully with the added data and pictures you’ve given me we should get some actual answers by tomorrow.” She told the Captain as she began piling her paperwork inside the summoning circle.

Once everything was in place, Sidereal told him to take a few steps back. Muzzle scrunched in concentration, the red mare started weaving a spell that made her horn light up like a rainbow. An orb of light spawned midair above the center point of her contraption, slowly falling down into the central piece's receptacle.

It stayed put for a couple seconds, crackling sounds coming from the contraption and pants of exertion from the Doctor. Finally, she let go of her spell and the crackling ceased at once.

The device in the middle of the summoning circle let out a small puff of smoke before its mobile parts started spinning wildly. Dilip could see the white chalk on the ground slowly start to turn black and emit a burning smell. The five foci on tripods lit up all at once, each firing a beam of light towards a point midair above the central piece which lit up like a second sun.

Now in complete awe at the sight, the Captain witnessed a shield of sort envelop the entire summoning circle and hide the magical contraption from sight. A second later, the shield flashed and disappeared.

The contraption and the circle were still there, but the Doctor’s report was gone.

One paw rubbing at his eyes to wipe away the aftereffects of the light show, Dilip let out an impressed whistle. The smell caused by the contraption lingered in his canine nostrils, though not really as unpleasant to him as some like smoke grenades or welding operations.

“If I still had any doubts about your otherworldly origin, they’re now completely wiped away." The Indian-turned-Diamong-Dog commented. "Is this common technology in your world?”

“Not at all I’m afraid. Few unicorns ever get to practice magic at that level; I am more of an exception to the rule.” She shook her head. “Most unicorns only ever learn a few convenient spells that are relevant to their own industry.”

“All the more impressive then. Now, I don’t want to be rude but I have a lot of work tomorrow and I could use some sleep.” He rolled his shoulders. “Goodnight Doctor.”

Unbeknownst to the two leaders, there was one creature that had seen Sidereal send out her message. And she was not too happy about it.

Initially, she had planned to slowly start manipulating the memories of any crewmen she found roaming around the quays. Sailors were such great fun to toy around with, and the few she had found isolated enough that she could freely look into their heads painted a pretty interesting picture.

So much repressed anger and grudges on this planet. This would have been so easy to exploit. She had even identified two parties she could grind against each other with a mere nudge, the seeds for that were already sowed and ready to be activated in one of them even.

But nooo, those damn Equestrians had to meddle in the affairs of her species once again. Just when they had been offered the opportunity to make a new territory for themselves after being shunned for so long.

She was slowly starting to regret claiming she could do it on her own. Her two sisters should already be halfway across the Baltic by now.

She didn’t worry about being detected as she swam away from the ships to think of a plan. Her blue scales blended in perfectly with the water, not even seaponies would be able to spot her unless she actively went out of her way to be seen.

That had surprised her too, but once she got past that hurdle it actually played into her hoof. Water was her realm, and the transformed hippogriffs were all too easy to isolate and manipulate. Their heads yielded a fair share of useful information as well. How certain parties viewed each other, how heavily armed they were...

And they were heavily armed. There was no way she could take them head-on, not with these... '.50 cals' they had surrounding their ships.

But she had a few aces ready to be played… now what would her patron prefer? Probably getting rid of the Equestrians. The ponies could not be allowed to interfere in their takeover of the planet.

Swimming back to an old sea fort in the middle of the harbor, she hid in the sea grass to bide her time and think of a possible solution to the matter. There was one thing she could do already actually…

The red gem in the middle of her scaly chest lit up with an unnatural glow that revealed some of the small black crystals piercing through her thick skin. A wicked, fanged smile appeared on her muzzle; now she just had to wait and her new thrall would bring her the ponies she wanted.

On the Rhine Forest, Anton jerked slightly all of a sudden, spilling a bit of her beer.

Despite her sitting on a bar stool in the ratings’ rec room, none of the hen’s shipmates spotted her eyes flash a dull red for a brief second.

“Eh there Anton, don’t tip over just yet it’s still early evening.” Mikhail joked in Ukrainian, the purple dragon giving her a small tap on her back.

“Nah… I’m good. Just nervous is all.” She shook her head. “Had a weird feeling for a second.”

She looked across the length of the bar towards the other sailors there. The Rhine benefitted from having a rather well furnished recreation room thanks in no small part to her size, and her crew was all too glad to make use of it after a long day of work.

The rectangular room was situated in the middle of the accommodation near the bow of the Rhine, just above the waterline and next to the mess hall. For the sailors’ comfort, the normally dull walls and floor had been decorated with laminate flooring and padded blue wall panels. Someone had even installed some purple LED lights around the bar and on the walls at some point, giving a light, refreshing atmosphere to the room that compensated for its lack of portholes and natural light.

Among the various amenities in the room, the bar would have been the main attraction for most. There was little harm in knocking down a few pints after work considering they were moored, and they all knew there would be Hell to be paid for anyone who dared to get wasted and cause a stir. Showing up drunk for duty… bad idea now that they regularly used weapons, and the ship's two bosuns made sure they got the memo.

Which was a bit odd to witness considering one of the two had been 'kidified' into the form of a young griffon hen... but Izaak's predicament was beside the point.

The few crewmen that weren’t making use of the bar were seated on the couple couches arranged in a U-shape on the other end of the room, all playing videogames on the recently upgraded (as in: looted) widescreen TV.

Of course, there were some other things as well. Fictions books shared the shelves with DVD boxes near the TV, and they even had a table football and a couple tables to play cards, but they didn’t get as much use of them as the bar or the TV.

“Weird feeling? I feel you…” Mikhail knocked down his beer and leaned over the edge of the bar to refill his glass at the tap. “Those Equestrians really dropped the bomb on us this afternoon. Not that I’d complain ‘bout living that long but…”

“Wasn’t talking about that.” She shook her head. “Must be all the work we’ve been doing recently.”

“That I can understand. Lots of grinding and sanding on your side?”

“Damn right, I can steel feel the needlegun in my talons.” She flicked said appendages for emphasis. “But I had this thought about home you know…”

“Really? You of all people would start thinking about it now? Of all times?” The purple dragon inquired, one of his bronze webbed ears tilting down.

“Laugh all you want… but my mother went to the Maidan protests you know. It’s just the timeframe, and now I saw the two Russians on Amandine…” Her grip tightened around her beer. “All these things they did to us.”

“Anton, don’t.” Mikhail said. “It’s no use worrying about it anymore.”

“To you, maybe.” She glared at the dragon.

“Not to me in particular. You’re from Lviv, last I checked there were some of us that are a little bit more involved in this conflict than you. Christ, I heard there was someone from Donetsk on Amandine.” He pointed out. “And I don’t think they have as much of a problem with it.”

Once more, Anton’s eyes flashed and caused the snow leopard griffon to flinch.

“They tore our country apart!” She cried out.

“Not them, they’re just two guys who happen to be Russian. If anything, the Eurocrats have as much of a hand in that as the Kremlin does. In any case, it’s of no importance at the moment.” He replied calmly.

That made Anton stand up from the bar stool and abandon her beer.

“To me it is important Mikhail.” She pointed a talon between his eyes. “And if you’re willing to let go of all the lives…” She stopped for a brief second as her head jerked. “… of all the lives this whole fiasco took?! Screw you!”

And with that she stormed off in anger, most likely back to her cabin. This whole conversation was a bit puzzling to Mikhail; Anton hadn’t ever come across to him as particularly interested in anything that went on back home in Ukraine.

Probably just the beer talking. He still didn’t know his new limits after the transformation, so he doubted she did either.

Good thing he didn’t mention how the Russian griffon seemed to have eyes for her.

Flight training had been rather productive Micha’d say. Sure, both she and Vadim had been kept somewhat busy by keeping an eye on Andy, but that didn’t stop them from progressing ahead of the other flyers on the crew.

With Vadim trailing behind her, she walked down the passageway to the passenger cabin they had assigned to Andy. The cub was fast asleep on her back clutching her blanket and plush dolphin, safely nestled between her wings.

All that playing and a few (well monitored of course) tries at gliding had sapped the energy out of her.

Well, to her two caretakers that meant she wouldn’t be sneaking out of her room tonight.

They had already decorated Andy’s cabin a bit to make her more comfortable. A couple DVD’s containing children’s shows, toys retrieved from the store she had taken refuge in, and even a couple sets of clothes they had made for her after they were forced to ditch the destroyed t-shirt they found her in.

Vadim had even managed to find her her own set of themed bed sheets and some posters so she wouldn’t feel too sad.

For all that was worth… the grey falcon griffon feared the chick would grow messed up if she stayed here. Neither he nor Micha were her actual parents, and a merchant vessel was a poor place to raise a kid. What she needed was something more stable than that.

He carefully picked Andy up and off Micha’s back and deposited her on the bed. Wouldn’t want to wake her up now…

“You got watch tonight?” Vadim whispered in Polish.

“Nah, I start tomorrow at eight.” Micha replied, watching her mate tuck the kid under the sheets. “You?”

“I got the 0-4 tonight, so I’ll just go watch something in the Officers’ Lounge for an hour or two.” The Ukrainian explained.

Just as he was finishing putting the little griffon to bed, she unconsciously grasped his forearm with both claws in her sleep, one happy smile on her yellow beak.

“Welp, that just happened…” He muttered under his breath.

He tried to pull the appendage away from the kid, but she was hanging on tight and he was pretty sure if he tried to pry her talons open he would wake her up. A tired trill escaped the grey falcon griffon's hooked beak.

“What’s wrong?” Micha asked, already halfway through the door.

Vadim raised one free talon to shush her and motioned towards his stuck arm. Micha just chuckled and shook her head ruefully.

“Let’s see, kid’s basically a cat…” She whispered in his ear, teasingly poking his wing with a talon. “… and everyone knows when a cat’s sitting on you you’re as good as stuck.” She mused. “Half-cat, half-kid… you ain’t moving tonight buddy ‘cause I’m not putting her back to sleep.” She smiled.

“How kind of you to volunteer to pick up my watch.” Vadim smiled.

“Wait a sec-“

“Tut-tut.” He shushed her. “Don’t wanna wake the kid do ya? I’ll be taking your morning watch instead, ok?”

The griffon hen (yeah, the ponies had told them it was the proper word earlier, males were called 'toms' apparently) rolled her eyes and gave Vadim a light slap on the back of his head, much to his amusement.

Resolving himself to his fate as a glorified hugging pillow, the Ukrainian kicked off his steel-toed shoes and lied down on the bed next to Andy, mindful not to wake her up. Micha glowered at him for a second before making her way out of the cabin.

Eh, it was her idea to rescue and adopt the kid after all.

Odd as it seemed, Vadim gave the kid a fond look before draping a wing over her sleeping form and laying his head down on a fish-shaped pillow.

They destroyed your country.

She just couldn’t sleep. She had gone back to her cabin to catch some rest and sleep off the beer. Much tossing and turning later and with one Hell of a headache, Anton was forced to concede defeat and had gone out to get some fresh air.

For some reason, she had no recollection of how exactly she had gone from her cabin to the quays except for a blurry haze mixed with the pain in her head.

Now they’re getting away with it.

Her tail lashed out and she jerked, partly leaning against a green container near the Rhine. Her thoughts kept going back to the Ukrainian conflict despite her best attempts at thinking of something else.

“Kurwa!” The snow leopard griffon’s limbs failed her for an instant and she fell down in a heap.

Her mind whited out for a second, and much to her annoyance her memory conjured images she had seen on the news before the Event struck. Riots on Maidan Square, Donetsk, Sebastopol, childhood friends fighting each other over split opinions...

You can’t let them get away scot free.

When did she get to the other side of the docks again? She tried to look back towards the ships but her body refused to obey her orders. Her limbs carried her to an isolated quay hidden away from sight of the ships.

You WANT revenge.

What in the blazes was happening to her?! Anton desperately tried to wrench her gaze away from the water...

They took your little brother.

All resistance fell as her memory ripped out images from a carefully quarantined part of her mind. A bloody, broken body lay on the cold pavement of a street somewhere in Eastern Ukraine, but with its face still very much recognisable.

Tears soaked the feathers on her face as memories of her youth with Yakiv were conjured by whatever force was tormenting her. She could remember his smiling face when he had brought a stray pup home, way back when they were kids.

Why did that idealistic moron have to go to Eastern Ukraine and get himself killed?!

Avenge him.

Stricken by an artificial grief her normal self had already surpassed, she finally relented her grip on her mind.

The manipulative force made her regret it immediately. Her true self was immediately pushed away and shoved in the deep, dark recesses of her mind to make room for something far more sinister. Anton wasn’t at the helm anymore.

To the outside observer, the eyes of the griffon turned a dull red before she rose up slowly in a robotic fashion. Her tail, which had been lashing and trashing for the past couple minutes, was now utterly still.

It was three in the morning when the possessed griffon headed for the armory.

“Hey, you got some fire?” Boris asked the centaur that was guarding the checkpoint with him.

The centaur happily complied and passed him a lighter for his cigarette. The height difference between him and the Russian forced him to lean down with his humanoid half, something which keenly reminded Boris of how much closer to the ground he was as a quadruped.

He didn’t clearly understand the logic with centaurs. Sure there were some on the Rhine, but their origin didn’t make much sense to him. Most came from Liberia (take one shot for shipping companies using cheap labour) like the one whose lighter he was using, but others came from literally all over Europe with little apparent logic, and they didn’t have much shared ancestry either.

Some species actually made sense, if only a little. Minotaurs? All Greek. Griffons and gargoyles? Eastern Europe, mostly. Hippogriffs hailed from archipelagos (like Indonesia and the Philippines). In the rare cases where they didn’t, at least there was some colonial ancestry or holiday adultery involved.

In most cases, there was a pattern. Not with the centaurs save for a vague idea they spanned all over Europe and seemingly south of the Sahara.

The centaur by his side went by the name of Imani and from what he told him, he was a rating in the Rhine’s barge department. Kinda new to the job too.

Contrarily to centaur Officers on the Rhine, Imani didn’t cover up his equine half in clothing. Maybe it was out of pride, Boris hadn’t asked but he could have understood the reasoning. After all, he was pretty much built like a draft horse, with rippling muscles underneath his white coat of fur and massive hooves emphasized by the black feathering on his legs.

And just like every centaur, the skin of his humanoid half was somehow red.

They were only guarding the smaller checkpoint of the two, which meant they only needed three sailors to keep it secure. The third guard with them was a Filipino hippogriff sitting on top of a container next to their .50 cal. Not a very talkative guy, but he did keep a tight watch on the approaches.

“Were you there for the aliens’ presentation yesterday?” Boris idly asked as he gave the centaur his lighter back.

“Can’t say I was.” Imani shrugged. “Not enough room in the cafeteria, and I had to keep watch anyway. Did I miss much? I heard they’re giving a second one on the Rhine for those that missed it.”

“Much? That’s not even the beginning lemme tell you. They admitted they didn’t know much about all races, but if half of what they told is true... Man, shit’s crazy. Did you know the dragons, they need to start a hoard at some point?”

“Come again?” Imani tilted his head.

“Like in fairy tales with the dragon capturing a princess and sitting on a pile of gold. They need it if they want to live their full lifespan.”

“But... what? How? That doesn’t make any fucking sense.” The centaur scratched the base of his horns in puzzlement.

“I dunno, magic and shit...” Boris shrugged with his wings. “Hardly anything makes sense anymore, it’s not like I can actually question it.”

“Meh, I’ll need to see it to believe it.” Imani told him.

“Say, mind if I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

“Very funny.” Boris drawled. “But really, I was just curious, how is it to be...”

“A centaur?” He cut him off.

“Yeah, I figured it can’t be the most practical of things.” Boris took a long drag of his cigarette. “Last I checked ships weren’t meant to carry horses.”

“You ever laid eyes on an actual horse? They’re much bigger than I am. Heck, Doc Delacroix managed to find a weighing scale to fit quadrupeds and I swear to you, there are fatasses heavier than us.” The Liberian stated, one hand patting his own flank.

“Really? How heavy are we talking?”

“Me in particular? 380 kilos, Doc said it’s in the same weight class as the minotaurs.” Imani said, rolling his shoulders slightly to adjust the strap of his machinegun.

“Still sounds heavy.”

“That’s less than half of what you’d expect from an actual draft horse for your information. Still, gotta admit the ergonomics are often at odds with centaurs. Showers and beds? Had to modify those, and relearn how to use stairs as well.”

“Well, at least you’re not crotch height with the bipeds. That gets old real quick.” Boris said, keenly aware of how much shorter he was compared to the tall centaur.

“I’ll tell you what gets old: having difficulties reaching the rear of your own body.” Imani snorted. “We didn’t have to modify the goddamn toilets, but sometimes it really feels like backing up a truck just to get your ass over the bowl. And don’t get me started on the part where you wind up mimicking a contortionist just to wipe your damn ass.”

Boris chuckled.

“Funny thing is... I discovered centaur spines are like an owl’s neck.” He added.

“I call bullshit on that.” The griffon said.

Imani’s only response was to do a 180 with his humanoid half and set down his machinegun on his back, much to Boris’ surprise.

“Now imagine me in that position as I’m aiming my rear end at a toilet bowl. If this isn’t some kind of comedy on a divine scale I’ll eat lawn clippings for a week. Still, nifty trick, would be a hell of a lot harder to maintain basic hygiene if my top half wasn’t so flexible. Shame I can't fap anymore...”

“I’m not sure whether to call this amazing or disgusting.” Boris muttered in Russian, wide eyed.

“I wonder if I can set up my gun with its bipod and fire it from my back.” Imani mused, looking at the gun.

He leaned down and extended the bipod on his own hindquarters, shouldering the gun and aiming down the sights at an unidentified point out at sea. It didn’t look particularly comfortable to Boris. That, and there was something to be said about firing a gun over your own naked ass as you pointed it at whatever foe you were facing.

“I believe we have officially reached past the point of seriousness in this conversation...” Boris stated.

He tossed the butt of his burnt cigarette over to the side and looked up at their hippogriff companion behind the .50 cal. on the container.

“You still awake up there?”

“Wish I wasn’t so I could avoid hearing the shit you two keep spouting.” Was all he heard as a reply.

That got Imani to shake his head.

“You know we don’t have to be serious all of the time right Osvaldo?”

The Filipino hippogriff left his gun for a second to peek down above the edge of his container and sent a scathing glare at the two sailors below.

“I know we don’t, but have you missed the news? Somebody disappeared!”

“Really? Who?” Imani asked.

“Anton did. Turned down for the night and nobody’s seen her ever since. Not even in her cabin.”

Boris immediately perked up at that. If there was someone on the barge carrier he had taken note of, it was the snow leopard/peregrine falcon griffon.

“Who saw her last?” He asked.

“Mikhail apparently. Said she started spouting some stuff about Ukraine and Crimea before she complained about a headache and called it quits.” Osvaldo told them. “But when they sent someone to get her when she failed to show up for duties, her cabin was empty.”

“Wandered off drunk?” Boris guessed.

“Unlikely. She wasn’t that drunk.” Osvaldo replied with a shrug of his wings.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but sober sailors don’t disappear like that. She’s one of the genderswapped folks so...” Imani started and made a slashing motion across his throat.

“Suicide?”

Right then, their walkie-talkies erupted into chatter coming from Amandine. Bart had just done his rounds around the armory. A pistol was missing, along with one mag worth of 5.7mm ammunition. Someone else also reported on the same channel that one of the Rhine’s rubber dinghies had disappeared.

Worse even, was the fact one of the Equestrian unicorns had gone missing when she had gone on a walk around the quays after breakfast.

Whatever the fuck was going on, they needed to find Cheese Cake and Anton.

Trekroner Fort was hard to miss as a landmark. Every ship that sailed into Copenhagen’s harbor would have to go around it and its tide breakers to get to the quays and the inner city. For centuries, the atoll-like fortification had been part of the cityscape and shared its history.

It had been there when the British fleet attacked. It had done a stint as a building for the harbor authority. It had even been used by German occupational forces during WW2. And now, even after something as big as the Event, it would still get to be part of the city’s legacy.

It was built on strips of reclaimed land in the shape of a diamond, with the land rising higher on the sea side of the construction where most of the fortifications had been built, including a small-sized white lighthouse atop the fort's main casemate. There were even some rust covered cannons left over, more for show than utility. Behind the main casemate, the diamond shape of the atoll wrapped around a small bay with a couple deserted piers.

Lastly, two red two-story buildings kept an eye on either side of the entrance channel in the back of the atoll, the former barracks, which had been converted into a café and a museum after the fort fell out of use. Along with the grass and weeds that covered the fortifications, they made for a rather picturesque sight.

The only two things marring the appearance of the fort were the destroyed doors of the main casemate and the grounded dinghy on the boat ramp in front of it.

Cheese Cake slowly started coming to. She was on her morning walk after breakfast but then… maybe she recalled something wrapping around her throat. She wasn’t sure.

Opening her eyes, the lanky unicorn found herself inside what appeared to be a cell. An old one at that. The bare, damp ground she was lying on was covered in bits of plaster that came from the cracked ceiling; and the whitewashed brick walls bore the marks of humidity damage. The only source of light in the room came from a small opening near the top of one wall, but even if it didn’t have rusty bars in the way it would still have been too small to fit her. Going by the sound of waves and the salty smell, she still was close to the shore.

The only possible escape route she could see was thus the cell’s door. She couldn’t see anything except for a cracked brick wall beyond her cell’s bars.

“Hello? Anypony in there?” She called.

Unsurprisingly, whoever had brought her there had closed the door. She was stuck. Alone.

Cheese sat down on her haunches and slowly breathed in and out. Be quiet, stay calm, think of a solution. Panicking won’t get you anywhere. Good ponies don’t stampede when cut off from the herd, and the Equestrian authorities had made sure the expedition teams they sent off-world were ponies that wouldn’t panic and focus on actual solutions.

She was that kind of pony.

Her initial panic visibly settled down, her ears rising up and flicking this way and that to attempt to detect anything around her.

What do you do when you’re cut off from your herd? You either find your way back, or find a way to get their attention. Now how to do the latter…

“Anypony? Pulp?” She tried again.

She caught some noise a ways down the hallway. Chomping? Yes, there was a creature eating something loudly, fish most likely if her nose was to be trusted. The smell made her queasy. Wait… steps, talons clicking against the hard floor. Somepony was coming. Cheese pressed her head against the bars to get a look.

What came into view chilled her to the bone. She was fairly certain she had seen that griffon hen somewhere around the quays, but back then her eyes weren’t glowing red embers. Hints of black crystals also seemed to poke out of her plumage here and there around her eyes as she approached her cell with a robotic gait.

Cheese knew her Equestrian history. The mind control wasn’t even subtle. The bad thing was… contrarily to Sidereal she was no magic expert and recognizing it was about the only thing she could do. The crystals too were rather concerning, but she couldn’t put a hoof on where she had heard of such an affliction. She was wearing a dirty, scuffed set of white coveralls she recognized as the type used by the Rhine's crew... though unlike many of the former humans that was the only thing she had on her frames. No gloves. No shoes.

“Whoever you are, I know you’re in there!” Cheese cried out. “You can fight it! Take back control!”

The griffon just took position in front of her cell, completely still and with her gaze vacant.

“She won’t hear you.” A loud feminine voice came from somewhere down the hallway. “Fascinating history they have those humans, so much strife to feed off of. Easy to exploit too, a bit of a nudge here and there, an enticing thought or two and she was right where I wanted relinquishing all control.” The voice said with a hint of pride.

“Why?!” Cheese yelled. “Why would you do such a terrible thing?”

The voice laughed.

“Little pony, you may know of changelings that feed off love, but my species… we need strife, chaos, grief. And these humans? They have it in spades, so easy to exploit… And when the dust settles, the survivors make for a nice dinner.”

“Your species? Who are you exactly?” She asked, wracking her brain for a possible plan and staring at the window for a second. Maybe…

“It matters not what I am my sweet little pony. What matters is that my sisters and our patrons prevent you from aiding these humans. Can’t have you put a stop to all these conflicts with your precious harmony now?” She laughed.

Sisters? Patrons? She needed to keep her talking. Cheese looked back at the griffon standing in front of her cell. Utterly unresponsive. Was she using direct mind control or did she just give her thrall orders to fulfill?

“Surely we can coexist…” Cheese attempted.

She wracked her brain for the right spell. Right, there was the one that fireworks unicorn stallion showed her once, Comet Crackle he was called? No matter, she needed to recall the spell not his name.

“Coexist?!” The voice erupted into shrieking laughter. “Only you Equestrians could be so naïve as to think that. No, now that there is another world ripe for the taking, we’re going to take it and once I’m done, you will all be out of the equation. And all of us that have been quashed by the princesses, we will have our turn.”

Cheese didn’t answer. She pointed her horn at the window and released her now completed spell. With a loud hiss, a red ball of sparks left her horn and flew out of the window before taking a 90-degree turn upwards. She didn’t see the explosion, but the booming sound was enough to confirm the firework had been cast correctly.

“Thank you, bait.” The voice said smugly.

Cheese cake stared aghast at the still immobile griffon in front of her cell. She fell down on her haunches.

“Oh horseapples…”

“Did you guys just see that, over?”

“Amandine to Rhine, please confirm: flare spotted over the sea fort? Over.”

“Looked more like a firework from here. Think that’s our missing sailors? Over.”

“Gotta be. Keep the sweeping search pattern around the docks, we’re sending our MOB boat to investigate. Out.”

A few minutes later, a team including Artyom, Boris, Danny and Thanasis embarked on board of Amandine’s MOB boat. Sidereal and Gust stopped them before they could launch off towards the fort.

“Doctor, this could be dangerous.” Artyom warned her with his claw hovering over the davit’s controls.

“Gust and I took down a tatzlwurm a few days prior. Try me.”

The ex-VDV took a look at the gambeson-wearing Pegasus behind Sidereal. Gust had already retrieved and strung his crossbow and its quiver of bolts. At least the stallion seemed to have some actual combat training, if only against critters.

“Fine.” He looked Gust in the eyes. “Mind keeping an eye in the sky for us?”

“Consider it done.” The golden pegasus nodded, immediately taking off, his red and blue tail leaving a faint contrail behind him.

“How he manages to use a crossbow without hands I’ll never know…” Artyom muttered before turning back to Sidereal. The unicorn was still standing on the deck next to the davit. “Mind hopping in? I’d rather we hurry.”

Once he was sure everyone was settled, they finally released the boat from its davit and sped towards the fort where the flare had come from.

“Cheese, she’s no fighter?”

“Not at all.” Sidereal shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s got some wits and a couple nifty spells in store, but the fighters in our team are just me and Gust, maybe Pulp to some extent.”

“Got it.” Artyom nodded before going silent.

The fort wasn’t particularly far from their berthing point, but the raised fortifications did hide the bay from sight. In a matter of minutes, Danny was pulling them alongside a pier on the rear side of the fort, next to the barracks. They dismounted quickly, all of them noticing the Rhine’s dinghy next to the main casemate which had its doors broken out of their hinges. Artyom in particular was rather tense as he gathered them behind a short wall.

“Listen up all of you, it’s highly likely Anton is behind this. I have no idea why she would do this, but remember she’s armed and potentially dangerous…”

“You’re just gonna shoot her?” Boris protested.

The blue dragon gave his fellow Russian an exasperated look.

“Of course not. Don’t do that, use your 303 if you can to neutralize her, lethal force is only to be applied if she fires at you and you can’t get her safely, copy?”

“Aye, copy.” Boris nodded, somewhat relieved. “Monsters?”

“What do you mean monsters?” Thanasis asked, one MAG machinegun floating close to him.

“Maybe they caused this.” Boris shrugged.

“Monsters or not, we’re here for Cheese and Anton.” Artyom reminded them. “We don’t know what we’re getting into, so we all stick together, okay?”

Once he heard a short chorus of ‘aye’s’ and ‘roger’s’, he laid out his plan to them.

It was easy to tell at a glance that there were tunnels and bunkers crisscrossing under the fortifications. With the state of the main door and the dinghy next to it, rushing in through there would have been way too dangerous. He pointed a claw to a set of rusty steel doors near the barracks.

“We get in there and approach it from the inside. That should make us harder to notice.”

The interior that greeted them made it very clear to the group how old the fort really was. The plaster that covered the vaulted ceiling was chipped here and there, with the fallen bits cracking underneath their shoes (horseshoes in Sidereal's case) every time they took a single step forward.

Progressing through the narrow hallways forced them to move in single file with Artyom taking point. Small rooms appeared on either side of them as they advanced slowly through the dark, damp tunnels, their path lit up by a light orb Sidereal had just conjured out of her horn.

The fort wasn’t completely ancient either: cables and piping could be seen running along the walls, along with old filament light bulbs. They were of course far beyond the point of even being salvageable, but it did show the group the fort had been upgraded over the course of its lifetime.

Before they could reach the main casemate, Artyom raised a balled claw to halt them.

“Anybody heard that?” The blue dragon asked in a whisper, pointing a claw towards a room off to the side.

“You think it’s Cheese?” Sidereal said.

“Could be.” Artyom dropped to one knee and looked at the group behind him. “Boris, Danny, Gust, you check this out while we keep going?”

With a collective nod, the three of them split up from the rest of the group and headed for that section of the fort.

As for Artyom, he made sure Thanasis was still following behind. He needed the sphinx’s MAG and Sidereal’s spells. Whatever was in this fort, he was pretty sure the biggest threat would be waiting for them in the main casemate.

Their section of the fort must have been some kind of armory or ammunition storage for the artillery guns. That would have explained the reinforced doors and bars blocking off certain rooms which Boris’ flashlight passed over. Eventually, they reached a circular room with a vaulted ceiling at the top of which there was a single small window allowing some light to stream in.

“Cheese? You in there?!” Gust called out before being immediately shushed by the two sailors accompanying the Pegasus.

“What?” He mouthed back at them.

Boris pulled him closer, talons wrapped around the collar of his gambeson.

“We don’t want to be noticed. Don’t shout.” He whispered angrily in the pony’s ear before releasing him with a growl.

But it was still too late. They heard the telltale sound of talons clicking against a hard surface coming towards them. Two red embers appeared in the darkness… no, two glowing eyes which they soon found out belonged to one snow leopard griffon as she robotically stepped into the light.

“Anton?” Boris cocked his head. “Are you alright?” He asked, slowly approaching the hen.

Why were his instincts screaming at him to run away? And where did the black crystals in her feathers come from?

A metallic crashing noise echoed further down the hallway Anton had just come from, quickly followed by the clattering sound of hooves on stone. A haggard, disheveled looking Cheese Cake came galloping towards him before tackling him away from Anton.

“It’s a trap!” She screamed at him. “She’s been mind controlled! There’s a siren in the fort!”

Before Boris could have time to ask her what the fuck was going on, Anton burst into action. She flew directly at Boris and Cheese, all talons poised to strike and skewer them.

Or rather, she went straight for Boris. The Russian was once more tackled to the ground, this time by a screeching hen.

He’s one of them. They took your country. They took your brother.

Take his life.

There was another conflict beneath the surface, deep inside Anton’s mind. The Ukrainian was trashing against the power the siren was using to hold her captive in her own mind, completely helpless at the sight of her own body attacking one of Amandine’s sailors. She knew the guy, he may be a jackass at times but that didn’t warrant killing him.

Avenge them.

The siren was using her own memories against her! Every time she thought she could gain some measure of control, she would flash some painful memories at her to throw her off. Boris being Russian didn’t help… Whatever angry, vengeful spirit the siren had awoken inside her mind, it seeing a Russian was like a bull seeing red.

Boris rolled with the attack and tried to pin Anton to the ground, only for the mind controlled griffon to kick him off her with a strong push of her hind legs, her claws deployed and tearing small holes in his orange coveralls.

“Idea?” He called to his companions, narrowly dodging a swipe of her talons and once more going for a pin.

Danny and Gust wanted to help, but the flailing pile of limbs and talons in front of them didn’t allow them to get a clear shot. And neither of them wanted to be on the receiving end of the wicked talons Anton sported.

“Don’t kill her! She can still get back in control!” Cheese cried out.

“How?”

“I think you need to get to her. Talk to the real Anton!”

“I barely know her!” Boris panted, rolling away from another swipe of her talons that left three shallow gouges on his flak jacket.

“Think of something!”

Before he had the time to, Anton managed to land a punch on the side of his beak which sent him reeling. The mind controlled sailor pushed the offensive and pressed him against a wall, rising on her hind legs with one claw wrapped around his throat, the other poised to rip out his guts.

“You destroyed my homeland!” She squawked in a distorted voice.

Well, if that wasn’t a hint he might as well be deaf. Boris kicked her in the shin, his steel-toed shoes knocking the wind out of her before he followed up with a quick throat punch that made her release her grip on his throat. The two of them tumbled to the ground, and he managed to wrap his talons around her arms to stop her assault for a second. A stinging feeling in his neck told him her talons had actually managed to break the skin.

“I’m sorry ok?!” He yelled at her. “All these jokes I tell about Ukraine and shit… That doesn’t mean I hate the whole damn country - urgh!”

Anton had folded her hind legs and kicked him off before he had time to finish. He crumpled like a castle of cards, clutching his belly in pain and giving her ample time to gain the upper claw.

On the other side of the room, Danny was wracking her brain trying to find a way to neutralize Anton safely. The parrot held her FN 303 in her claws, unable to fire it at risk of hitting her shipmate with the CS-gas filled rounds. Behind her, Gust and Cheese were rifling through the pegasus’ quiver of bolts.

“Fine!” Boris blurted out through a gritted beak as the mind controlled griffon above him raised her talons. “You want to know why I keep being a douche about Ukrainians?! Well I fucking had family there!” He switched to Ukrainian, much to the surprise of Anton when she heard her mother tongue being spoken. She stopped for a second, eyes briefly returning to their natural yellow-orange color.

“Two uncles, one lived in Sebastopol, the other moved from Saint-Petersburg to Mariupol for work with his family. Well guess what? They’re both dead, killed in this fucking useless farce of a conflict!” He stood up slowly, Anton taking a few steps backwards.

He could see her head jerking this way and that, her eyes sometimes taking the mind-controlled color of red, other times returning to their normal color.

“So you say it’s my fault your brother died? That your own damn country is in shambles? Well, damn you to Hell. Both parties are shit; you think my uncle cared whose rocket it was that blew up his house? Doesn’t matter, it killed him anyway. So I’ll admit, yes I joke about Ukrainians, but of course your sorry ass never heard half the shit I spout about Artyom and Russia! Fuck me right? I’d rather laugh about this all than wallow in self pity!”

He got closer to Anton, the female griffon was now trembling as he approached, her features changing quickly between aggression and confusion. He placed one claw on her shoulder and gave her a sympathetic look.

“So… I know I’m not the best speaker of all… I know where you’re coming from with that grief… but it’s not yours. You’re being manipulated by a monster that’s only using you and your emotions as a tool. Fight it.” He told her with a tentative smile.

And it seemed to work. The Russian could see the struggle on the other griffon’s features. Black crystals aside, she was actually even cuter from up clo-

‘Bang!’

Her eyes were back to red. Boris looked down. In her talons was one of Amandine’s Five-Seven pistols, muzzle still smoking. His mind went blank at the sight of the growing red spot on the woodland fabric of his flak jacket. The armor-piercing round had gone straight through all the layers of Kevlar.

Slowly, he raised one gloved claw to the wound. He started to feel cold… and then the pain hit him with the force of a freight train.

Boris collapsed with a mute gasp that sent droplets of blood flying out of his beak and staining Anton’s white coveralls. Behind him, he could hear Danny and Cheese's horrified cries resonate around the room.

Forcing through the searing pain of his wound, Boris reached towards Anton with one claw. He feebly clasped it around her paw before she had the time to walk away.

“Fight… back…” He whispered before finally falling unconscious from the sheer pain.

Anton’s eyes flashed back to their normal color, horror dawning on her beak as she stared back and forth between the Russian she had just shot and the pistol in her talons. That was short-lived however because the enthralling spell of the siren quickly retook control.

‘Twang-thunk!’

A thin crossbow bolt embedded itself into her flank. The mind-controlled griffon looked at it for a second before magically-induced drowsiness overcame her and she collapsed as well, her form landing on top of Boris’.

“Sleep tight beakie, that one had enough sedatives to knock out a manticore.” Gust snorted.

Author's Notes:

Bear with me, lest we forget, the story happens in 2015 back when the Eastern Ukrainian conflict was in full force. Considering how easily sirens are able to enthrall pacifist and communal creatures like ponies, I don't think one of them would have any difficulty using that as leverage to enthrall a Ukrainian, even one from an oblast that's on the other end of the country like Anton.

As for which siren of the trio she is, I did mention her scale color didn't I?