While the rest of the team was encountering difficulties with the mind-controlled Anton, Artyom’s group had continued their progress towards the main casemate. The rooms started to get bigger as the distance between them and the center of the fort decreased, the ammunition stores and gun emplacements now replaced by different rooms like infirmaries, offices and kitchens. It was still very clear that the fort was an antique by the looks of its electrical installation and the status of the furniture, but it was an improvement over the semi-rubble and cracked walls of the outer sections.

It was also better lit, if only marginally. The rooms on the inner side of the atoll facing the bay had actual windows. Most were either broken or translucent from the accumulated grime, but it was enough for Sidereal to drop her light orb spell.

The smell, however, wasn’t an improvement. A putrid scent of rotten fish mixed with algae permeated the air and made them wrinkle their nostrils in disgust. Sidereal in particular had to conjure a protection spell to put up with the smell.

“The fuck’s going on in here?” Artyom muttered in Russian as he rounded a corner of the narrow hallway with his SCAR raised.

There were piles of seaweed and fish bones strewn about the place haphazardly, no doubt the reason behind the smell inside the fort. To him it looked like something had put them here as a… stash maybe? Who or rather what does that?

The ex-VDV got his answer soon enough when they finally reached the central room. Said room was situated just beneath the lighthouse that loomed over the rest of the fort, and it was also the largest they had seen so far. At two stories in height, it had a rickety walkway made out of moldy wood connecting to the rooms on the upper level, as well as a rusty steel staircase going up in a spiral through the ceiling and towards the lighthouse. Neither the stairs nor the walkway looked in any shape like they could have sustained any significant weight without collapsing outright.

Most of the light in the room came from the open main doors, now ripped off their hinges and lying in the middle of the room amidst a pile of splinters, broken sea shells and seaweed arranged in a nest of sorts.

Oh, and of course the ‘nest’ had an occupant.

“Took you long enough…” The siren chuckled softly in perfect, unaccented English, a wicked smile on her muzzle revealing rows of sharp fangs that belied her otherwise pleasant voice.

Artyom could understand the legends of sailors being enthralled by the voices of sirens if that one was anything to go by.

In the looks department however? Her equine face made her more similar to the average Englishwoman than the Greek beauties of legend. At easily the size of an orca, the siren had the front half of a horse (as in: an actual horse, not the relatively cute Equestrian ponies), albeit covered in light blue scales instead of fur. She had a few fins around her neck and on her hooves, as well as a much larger one on her back akin to that of a sailfish. The rear half of her body was a very muscular fish tail tightly coiled beneath her equine half and covered in a darker set of iridescent blue scales.

It certainly didn’t match the elegance of waterborne hippogriffs; that was for sure. Her looks painted the picture of an apex predator instead. One that was looking at them –and Sidereal in particular- like they were her next meal of the day through a pair slitted purple eyes.

Those facts alone would have made her appearance unique enough, but it just didn’t stop there. A large red gem was solidly embedded in the center of her chest, with black crystalline protrusions poking out of the scales around it. Those protrusions were also found around her eyes, alongside a sigil not unlike the one Sidereal had found on the tatzlwurm burned on the side of her muzzle.

“What are you?” Artyom questioned her in a careful tone, rifle pointed straight at a point between her eyes.

“Sonata Dusk would be my name.” The siren said, giving the similarly colored dragon a predatory smile and rising up on her tail. “And I welcome you to my humble abode. I take it you received the invitation I had your friend send you?”

“Cut the crap.” Artyom scowled. “What do you want you monster?”

“What do I want?” Sonata laughed. “Simple young drake, I want nothing less than the ruin of Equestria and full reign over your world, and we can’t have the latter with these ponies in play. Thank you for bringing them right in my lap.”

“Wha-“ Artyom started but was cut off as a blast fired straight from her gem impacted him in the chest, sending him flying down the hallway they had come from.

“And now little pony, the time has come to weed off the parasites.” Sonata said in a haughty tone as her gem lit up like a second sun.

Sidereal may have been powerful compared to other Equestrian unicorns, but she was in no way capable of tackling a creature like a siren on her own. If a coven of them could give mages like Star Swirl the Bearded a gallop for his bits, she better find something else to take down the damned-to-Tartarus monster.

Sonata released the magic in her gem just as Sidereal leapt towards a beleaguered Thanasis who hadn’t quite managed to follow whatever the Hell was going on. She teleported the two of them out of the way just as a red lance of energy struck the ground they occupied not a second earlier. The lance exploded against the stones, kicking up a large cloud of dust and collapsing the hallway, thankfully blocking access to the large monster.

Sonata glared at the rubble, not finding any scorched corpses in the pile of bricks and concrete. She let out an angry shriek and blasted the wooden walkway apart.

“You can run but you can’t hide pony! My race will get their due revenge on Equestria and the rest of the world; and I won’t let you stop it!”

Down the hallway and now sheltered by the rubble the siren had inadvertently put between her and them, a blue-beret wearing dragon slowly hoisted himself up on his feet with a wince. That magic blast had hit him with the force of a runaway train. He gingerly brushed a claw against the spot where it had hit him right in the middle of his flak jacket.

There was a fist-sized hole going right through the kevlar, past the nomex coveralls and leaving a painful scorch mark on his scales. Most of the formerly light blue scales in the impact zone were now charred or cracked, with a small trickle of hot dragon blood seeping from beneath his natural armor. Not a small feat… the other dragons had tested the limits of their heat resistance and could withstand temperatures up to 500°C. Paired with the heat resistance of nomex and kevlar... that siren wasn’t pulling her punches.

He was damn lucky it was just a scratch. He had no clue how much of his survival was owed to his flak jacket, but he was pretty damn sure anyone else would have been killed instantly by the blast.

Might want to loot a jeweler later, just to get those broken scales fixed up though…

“Finally found you. You alright there?” Thanasis asked behind him as he rounded a corner. “Sidereal teleported us to safety.” The Greek sphinx added, seeing the confusion on the dragon’s features.

“I’m fine.” Artyom rolled his shoulders and checked his rifle.

A rumble shook the fort and made bits of plaster fall on their shoulders. Artyom caught himself on the side of the hallway and stared off at a small window as it lit up with a red glow.

“She’s pissed.” He stated. “At this rate she might actually level the whole fort.”

“It gets worse.” Sidereal told him. “We got a casualty.”

“Who?”

“Boris, he got shot by Anton before we could subdue her.”

Artyom’s face fell. Boris was his only compatriot in the entire fleet. As much as he tended to behave like a literal shithead he didn’t want him to…

“Dead?”

“Thankfully not, Gust and Danny are taking care of him but he needs to see a medic ASAP.” Thanasis explained as another tremor shook the fort. “For fuck’s sake, horse-Ariel is gonna bury us at this rate!”

“Worse is she might attack the ships after she’s done with us.” Sidereal said.

“She won’t.” Artyom told her with a shake of his head. “The .50 cal machineguns alone we have defending the area should be enough to take her down, she had Cheese captured to lure you here for a reason, she can’t take all of us in a frontal assault.”

“Me specifically?”

“Most likely because that way she gets rid of all the unicorns in your team and basically strands the rest on Earth with no hope of contacting your superiors.” Artyom elaborated. “Whoever she works for, they seem to want the planet for themselves now that most humans have essentially been culled out of existence.”

“That’s nice and all but that doesn’t really matter at the moment does it?” Thanasis interceded. “Can’t we just focus on killing the bloody thing instead?”

“You think your MAG is enough?”

“Doubt it. But we got better.”

“Nobody knows how to use the Bofors we found lest you forgot.” Artyom pointed out.

“I wasn’t talking about the tank. A good dose of .50 cal up her arse should do the trick I think. The fort’s in range of the ships, or Amandine is at least.” The sphinx said. “They can shoot up to one mile, correct?”

“Easily…” Artyom said looking off towards where he could hear the siren rampage. “Now how to make it work…”

Obviously they couldn’t just radio for fire support from the inside of the fort, what with how thick the walls were. That in itself wouldn’t have been too much trouble were it not for the highly dangerous monster out on the prowl outside the fort.

Sonata wasn’t stupid either. She knew the ships had enough firepower to blow her away in the blink of an eye and thus made sure the raised levee that constituted most of the fort’s structure always hid her from sight. She may not be as powerful as her sisters but she had enough wits about her to use her powers correctly.

Most of the time anyway. What she had just done here with the sailors and ponies was downright sloppy and no doubt would her sisters mock her when they heard about it. So much for saying she could watch the area on her own… She had the unicorn in her grasp right there, why did she even bother shooting the dragon?

Damn those slippery ponies!

A burst of gunfire erupted behind her as she flew past an old gun emplacement, drilling a couple holes in her back fin but otherwise pinging harmlessly off her scales.

“Feeling brave now?” Sonata smirked, immediately turning around and firing a blast of magic at Thanasis. It missed, landing in the dirt a few meters next to the sphinx who was forced to duck back underneath the fort.

Sonata pressed the offensive and used her magic to fly closer to the position Thanasis had emerged out of, already winding up a new spell.

“My kin can challenge the most powerful of unicorns ever! What makes you think you stand a chance, desert cat?” She laughed, peering in the hole.

A miasma of paralyzing gas courtesy of Thanasis’ breath attack was what greeted her. Not to a great effect however, because she casually dispersed the gas with her magic.

“A parlor trick? You just went down from brave to utterly stupid. Come out now and finish this!” She roared out.

Not a single soul peered out of the fortifications. Instead, a small olive green canister with a white band was thrown out, landing close to her. Sonata looked at it in curiosity.

And then the flashbang exploded.

“Gah! I’ll kill you all! Peel the skin off your flesh and make trophies out of it!” She yelled, one hoof rubbing frenetically at her eyes, ears ringing and her flight off-balance from the explosion.

This was the diversion they wanted. While the large siren was still recovering from the grenade, Artyom snuck out of a door on the other side of the fort, walkie-talkie in hand.

“Rescue team to Amandine, you hear me? Over.”

“5 by 5 rescue, what’s going on in the fort? Over.” Alejandro’s voice came over the radio.

“We found a monster. Got a casualty too but we need to kill it first and 7.62 isn’t enough Chief…” He flinched as Sonata fired a beam of magic blindly, making the lighthouse collapse in a flash of red light. “You think you can get us some fire support? Over.”

“Roger that. Hold your ground, we’re getting some .50 cal ready. Amandine out.” Alejandro signed off.

Not a second too soon too, because Sonata finally managed to shake off the effects of the flash grenade and sent him a scathing glare. Artyom ducked back underneath the fort just as a magic beam hit his former position and collapsed the emplacement he had just been occupying.

“Ohooiet, that was close…” The dragon muttered in Russian, tearing off a bit of concrete that had lodged itself in the collar of his flak jacket.

“They got your message?” Sidereal asked him.

“Yeah, they’re readying the big guns. How are the others?”

“Boris should be able to hold for a while thanks to Gust’s potions…”

“Potions?” Artyom cut her off as he stood up.

“Magic first-aid, we’ll go into detail on that once we’re safe ok? Thanasis is fine, if a bit worse for wear.” She explained. “What’s next?”

“For now? We need to wait a few minutes for them to get the guns ready. Then we gotta make sure they can get their eyes on the siren to shoot her.” He looked down at the red mare beside him. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to get her to fly higher? Expose herself?”

Sidereal sat down on her haunches and rubbed her muzzle pensively. Sonata clearly was aware of the firepower they had in store, and she wouldn’t let herself stray in the sights of their heavy machineguns.

“I… no clue, honest.” She gave him an apologetic shrug.

Artyom leaned his back against the wall and allowed himself to slide down to the ground, his tail coiling around his rear to form a seat of sorts. He rubbed the sides of his skull with his knuckles pensively, wracking his mind and…

“The lighthouse?” he tried.

“She destroyed it.”

“Damn, right.” He snapped his claws.

“I may have an idea.” Gust’s voice came in front of them.

The Pegasus cantered over to the two of them confidently. He had shed most of his saddlebags now, with the exception of his crossbow’s holster and its quiver.

“Well, shoot. It’s not like I have anything right now.”

One of the Ranger’s wings dug inside his quiver and pulled out a bolt which he held between two primaries. It looked fairly normal, except for its head which held a glass bulb behind a thin steel tip. The bulb was filled with an iridescent red liquid which glowed faintly in the darkness of the fort’s interior.

“Specialized bolts, the trademark of the Everfree Rangers… and our biggest money drain as well.” He explained.

“You wanna poison it? Look, I don’t think this…” Artyom waved a claw at the bolt. “…can actually pierce her scales, otherwise we wouldn’t need fire support in the first place.”

“It doesn’t need to, the bulb breaks on impact and the content can do its job with mere skin contact. I used one such bolt minutes ago to tranquilize Anton and… I may not have anything left with enough potency to paralyze a siren; but I do have that one which is filled with rage poison.”

“I don’t like the name of that thing.”

“It’s easy, I bet you I can outfly the siren, I just need to land my shot and she will be so focused on getting to me she won’t even remember she can blow me out of the sky with a spell.”

“Are you, by any chance, suicidal?” Artyom tilted his head and gave the Pegasus a dubious stare.

Gust actually took a second to reply to that.

“Maybe I am…” He mused, one golden-furred hoof rubbing the underside of his muzzle. “I mean, you gotta be a right bit barmy to join a bunch of foresters that roam a monster-filled haunted forest…”

Artyom turned his red eyes towards Sidereal.

“So you’re just going to let him do that?” He asked her.

“Beats doing nothing.”

Five minutes later, a gold-coated Pegasus with a gambeson shot out of the fort in a blur. Gust pushed his wings as hard as he could and completed a turn around the inner bay, passing in front of Sonata and finally attracting her attention.

“Ah, now you decide to actually come out and fight.” She licked her fangs, eyeing the pegasus with a hint of hunger. “Took you long enough.”

Gust came to a hover some ways across from her, crossbow held carefully in his forehooves.

“Aw, you think your lil’ crossbow here will suffice…” She chuckled before spreading out her hooves. “Try all you want pony! These scales here have withered far worse than this little toy you have!”

Gust just glared at her through the sights of his weapon. He lined up his shot and let the bolt fly with a sharp 'twang'. The glass bulb reflected the sunlight as it crossed the distance between him and the monster before crashing against her scales and shattering, the red poison inside staining her blue scales just above the gem in her chest.

Sonata's cocky smile reflected Gust's grim smile for a second.

“See? Completely use-“ She trailed off, pupils shrinking down to pinpricks.

“Bingo…” Gust muttered as he put his crossbow back in its holster.

Fair colts and gentlemares, the ponies are lining up in their starting gates…

Sonata’s head started jerking from side to side.

This year’s gallop is starting to show some promises with athletes gathering for a unique prize…

She gnashed her teeth, foam appearing on the corners of her mouth.

The prize you ask? Well, it’s actually fairly simple…

The siren’s eyes came to a rest on Gust. She snarled.

Not getting eaten.

Gust took off faster than he had ever flown, the now enraged Sonata hot on his tail, eyes filled with bloodlust. The two of them started swirling wildly in the air above the fort, with Gust having great difficulties putting some distance between him and the surprisingly quick siren.

For a monster that didn’t have wings and relied entirely on magical levitation to fly, she could actually put out some speed, and she didn’t seem to lose any in the turns either. Now…

Time to finish this. Gust steeled his gaze and started ascending.

“So did you actually fight with those?” Geert asked in Dutch.

“No. We didn’t take them to Kandahar, and we didn’t have them for Kosovo and Yugoslavia either. Doesn’t mean I can’t actually use them. We did train a lot.” Bart told her.

The Belgian was in fact speaking of the Piranha III APC’s they had gotten from the Danish base in Slagelse. Each of them was equipped with a remotely operated .50 cal on top, and it just so happened that Bart’s former unit made use of this exact same brand of APC’s.

Commercially-produced military vehicles can have benefits. Sometimes.

The one piranha they were in had been rolled out of storage as quickly as possible, and immediately had its turret equipped with a .50 cal. Geert and Bart were now positioned in the back, with the sky blue unicorn occupying the gunner’s seat and Geert looking over his shoulder at the targeting screen.

Holding the joystick in his telekinesis, Bart ran a quick, well-practiced check of the systems. Ammo feed? Check. Gun chambered. Laser rangefinder? He pointed the gun at a nearby crane. Correct distance, so that’s a check as well. The joystick responded to his input correctly as well, though doing it properly with only his telekinesis felt weird to him.

“Alright, time to fill the Little Mermaid with some lead.” Bart smirked, pulling on the joystick and pivoting the gun towards the fort. The image on his screen first showed him the horizon, before the fort appeared in view of the camera, its size quickly increasing when he zoomed up.

They could clearly see a golden blur flying above the fort, pursued by the much larger form of Sonata. Bart frowned at the sight, reaching with one hoof towards a set of buttons on the side of the screen. A whirr above him told him the fire control system was making its adjustments.

Now he just needed a good shot at the siren… which wasn’t exactly easy considering Sonata and Gust were flying around like two hummingbirds on cocaine. The Equestria-born Pegasus had managed to draw her out of cover, but it wouldn’t do any good if his opening salvo hit him as well.

Wait…

Wait…

There.

Gust leveled out of a dive and took a turn which left Sonata dead in his sights with the pegasus safely out of the way. The APC shook as he let loose with his .50 cal, green bolts of light from the tracers lancing out towards the blue siren.

A rush of adrenalin drained away what was left of the poison in Sonata’s bloodstream when the rounds impacted her scales. This wasn’t as messy as the 20mm HE that had been shot at the quarry eels in France, but the bullets went through her flesh and scales as if they weren’t even there, ripping large chunks of flesh on the way out. Sonata’s front was littered with small, seemingly innocuous bullet holes all around her chest gem, but her back… Bits of her sternum and ribcage had splintered on impact, ripping apart most of her organs which fell out of the gaping holes in her back, down in the waters of the bay below her and leaving a red slick of blood on the surface.

For a second, Sonata remained alive and brushed the wounds on her chest with a hoof in confusion. She looked back towards Gust, a trickle of blood starting to seep out of the corners of her mouth and mixing with the frothing saliva the rage poison had caused.

“You lost…” The pony said, giving her an almost sympathetic look.

And then the brunt of the damage hit her. With a shriek worthy of a banshee, Sonata fell down limply, her body now unable to keep her in the air. It impacted the water roughly and cut off her shriek. Bubbles churned for a couple seconds before the carcass floated up to the surface, exposing the torn flesh and her damaged back fin for the world to see. Her chest gem, formerly a shining jewel, was now grayed out.

Seagulls were quick to flock towards the body. They would get first pick of the meat, and then the harbor’s crabs would get the rest. Nobody stopped them. The Equestrians avoided looking at the body.

“That’s it. We won.” Gust panted as he landed next to Artyom, wings hanging tiredly off his back.

All around them, they could see the rampage the irate siren had wrought upon the fort: the collapsed lighthouse, the nearly destroyed main casemate, the countless smoldering craters and destroyed gun emplacements…

A sense of pride welled up in Gust’s chest. He was just an Everfree Ranger, but now he was part of the very limited group of ponies that had defeated sirens. Like Starswirl the Bearded and the Pillars…

“It ain’t over yet.” Artyom grunted. “We still need to evacuate Boris. That being said…” The ex-VDV held up a claw towards him. “Congrats, couldn’t have done this without you. This, this is your victory.”

Gust allowed a small smile to appear on his muzzle. He shook the Russian’s claw.

“Thanks.” He said softly.

Boris made it out alive eventually. He was rather lucky the mind-controlled Anton had taken one of the Five-Seven pistols and not a 9mm; the bullet had gone through relatively cleanly.

That of course didn’t mean treating him was easy, but he should make a full recovery. Camille and Vadim spent a good two hours running scans of his chest cavity to assess the internal damage the bullet had caused before they even attempted any operation on the still unconscious griffon. Griffons weren’t humans, and they needed to properly figure out what was in the injured area in the first place before barging in with surgical tools.

Turns out, griffons have a pretty resilient circulatory system thanks to their dual heart structure. The heart in his chest suffered from a cardiac tamponade caused by the chest trauma, meaning fluid was starting to build up around his heart.

The good thing was that the other heart the griffon had between his wings compensated for the output deficit in the other. It was only thanks to that 'wing heart' picking up the slack that Boris wasn’t in too much danger because of the tamponade.

Identifying the other organs in his chest turned out to be… difficult to say the least. Magic-assisted flight or not, griffons had air sacs in their body. They were situated more towards the front of the chest cavity, with the lungs behind them halfway between the two hearts. And they were hit, that much was easy to notice from the wheezing, whistling noise the unconscious griffon made whenever he breathed.

Also, turns out griffons have a massive sternum (Camille wasn’t sure if it was the correct term, then again she wasn’t a veterinarian) to protect their breast from impacts as they discovered while running scans. Boris was lucky enough that the enthralled Anton had aimed far enough to the side that the bullet had gone past it and only broke what she had to assume was a scapula on the way out and not in. They didn’t need to surgically extract bone splinters from his chest cavity.

Funny thing griffons really. They have two different scapula in close vicinity: one for the wing, one for the nearby front limb. In Boris’ case, he better be left-handed because he wouldn’t be using his right claw for a while.

“How are the lungs?” Vadim asked her as he hooked his colleague up to two different heart monitors inside the Rhine’s clinic.

“Pneumothorax on the left side… and I think on a couple of his air sacs as well.” Camille hesitated.

“You think?”

“Bear with me, I’m no veterinarian, never seen organs like those.” She told, looking at the scans in front of her. “I’ll hazard a guess and say they should receive the same treatment as the lungs. Shouldn’t be too hard if you’re careful.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t act surprised.” Camille rolled her eyes. “You think I can do much with a broken arm?” The French hippogriff said, wiggling the plastered limb for emphasis. “Hopping around on three limbs is hard enough as is.”

“You think I’m in any shape or form ready to perform that kind of medical act anyway?” He countered.

“Duh, obviously she does, kretyn.” Marta called out from inside the clinic’s office. “Why would she ask otherwise?”

Marta was the Rhine’s nurse and Camille’s assistant. The polish woman (as in: an actual woman, rare as they were in a fleet where most females used to be male) had turned into some kind of hedgehog-esque creature with gray fur and white quills following the Event. The ponies called her species Storm Creatures apparently. The Krakow-born nurse was… rather sarcastic at the best of times, and a female Boris at the worst of times -which tended to be rather frequent considering she was wheelchair-bound thanks to a broken leg and twisted ankle-.

She wasn’t stuck doing nothing, but it was rather clear all the office work was making her antsy.

Camille interrupted him before he could come up with something witty to retort to the nurse.

“Listen Vadim, it’s not even that complicated and I’m here to guide you. Both for the pneumothorax and his tamponade… you only really need to insert a needle to suck out the air and the pericardium fluid out.” She reassured him. “No cutting him open just yet, je te le promets.”

Vadim stared at her for a solid ten seconds before eventually letting out an annoyed trill.

“Fine.” He relented. “What else?”

“We start off with the heart and lungs; I’ll guide you on the scanner to do it.” She told, waving a wing over the unconscious form of Boris. “Then we fix up the bullet wounds; stitch it back together so he doesn’t start leaking when we put some fresh blood into him.”

“We still good on the blood store?” He asked just as he was starting to look for the tools they’d need.

“Barely. One more week and then it’s spoiled.”

“Lucky.”

“Not really, I’m sure we could find some volunteers willing to give theirs on board.” Camille said.

Vadim pointed a talon towards a bed further inside the clinic where the still tranquilized Anton had been put. Just in case the hen was still enthralled by the time she woke up, they had tied her down to her hospital bed once they were sure she wouldn’t choke on her own tongue.

That and they would have to remove the black crystals from her face, along with treating the small injury caused by Gust’s tranquilizing bolt.

“Valid donor or not, we won’t take blood from unconscious patients.” Camille scowled. “You ever heard of medical ethics?”

“Nope, wasn’t taught that at the academy in Gdynia.” He shook his head. “She shot him though, why wouldn’t it be legitimate to take her blood to fix him?”

“Because we got principles. I do at least, and I think I better have a word with you about it once we’re through with Boris.” She said, examining the gunshot wound in the griffon’s chest. “Hmm…” She mused.

“What now?”

“Nothing really. Just surprised the wound is in such a good shape.” Camille commented.

“That would be the health potion.” Sidereal said as she walked in.

Camille and Vadim almost jumped at the sudden entrance of the ruby red unicorn. She was looking a bit frazzled from the fight in the fort, but otherwise fine.

“Health potion? Care to elaborate ‘cause to me that sounds like something straight out of fiction.” Camille rounded on the unicorn.

Sidereal pulled out a small vial filled with a pink glowing liquid out of her saddlebag and passed it to the taller hippogriff.

“I can give you some books on how it’s made. I may not know much about magical medicine but I can tell you these are made to increase recovery speed. A single one is generally enough to close a small wound…”

“I think we saw that.” Vadim commented, eyeing the wound on Boris’ chest.

“Indeed. We only have the first-aid variant, it’s multipurpose.” She explained. “A proper potion is a complex thing really: they start off with a base liquid that contains the ‘building blocks’, so to speak, which is then paired with an energizing substance to make up the core potion.”

“Sounds more like the stuff you’d use to bulk up.” Camille said, a hint of doubt in the French hippogriff’s voice.

“Because it’s only the base.” The unicorn explained matter-of-factly. “I don’t remember exactly how the rest is called, but you’ve got a bit of Zebrican alchemy –or deer alchemy in certain brands- that’s used to add to the compound so that contact triggers and hastens the healing process. The alchemy part is a new thing, but lesser potions can also be made with regular magic, albeit with difficulty.”

“Zebrican?”

“Right, you’ve never heard of them, sorry. They’re a striped equine species similar to ponies that live in low latitudes. Pretty rare in Equestria, but their botanic products and alchemical compounds are so potent they make up most of their trade revenue.”

“So… zebras?” Vadim asked.

“Don’t say that.” The Doctor chastised him. “Calling them zebras is as much of a slang as calling a pony a horse.”

“Duly noted.” He nodded. “You said your batch is the first-aid variant?”

“Yes, less expensive and easier of use. The hospital versions hold more nutrients but less energizing potion since it isn’t as necessary. Their healing properties are different too.”

“How different?”

“They can regrow any type of tissue.”

“What?!” Camille shouted. “Impossible!”

“Quite the contrary. High-grade health potions injected in small doses on affected areas have been proven effective at replacing scar tissue with proper tissue, as well as repairing complex damage such as nerves, replace burnt skin and even fix bone marrow.”

“C’est qu’un ramassis de conneries!” Camille swore. “If what you’re telling me is even half-true that would imply they could be used to regrow limbs!”

“Calm down, or need I remind you I’m not that kind of Doctor? I did send a request for books on medical practices if it helps.”

“It does, merci.” Camille nodded. “Now, not that I want to be rude but may we tend to our patient?” She waved a wing towards Boris.

“Of course.” Sidereal said before making her way back towards the entrance. “I will contact you later to talk about Equestrian medicine if you want?”

Camille looked up at a clock hanging on a wall of the Rhine’s clinic.

“Come back here after dinner, I should be free to discuss this in my office.”

Sidereal nodded and finally made her escape, leaving Vadim and Camille free to take care of Boris. The hippogriff hadn’t lied when she told him it wouldn’t be too hard as she guided him in fixing up the Russian. It did take him some time to do it, but they made it. Boris’ heart and lungs were no longer in danger.

They hooked him up to a steady supply of oxygen before transfusing him some fresh blood and plugging in an IV. He would be bedridden for a while, but he should make a full recovery.

Before long, the two of them moved on to Anton to remove the crystal shards embedded in her flesh. While this didn’t pose too much trouble either (much less considering they used the potion left behind by Sidereal to cleanly close the wounds left behind by their removal), the presence of the crystals was a worrisome detail.

Where did they come from in the first place? Did the siren put them there? Artyom had mentioned something about Sonata having some on her chest as well. They put the crystals in a jar and decided it would be up to Sidereal and the Captains to figure it out.

“Funny thing…” Vadim said as he tossed his nitrile gloves in the bin.

“What is?”

“That it’s Anton who wound up shooting him.”

“Lemme guess… he has eyes for her? Now I can picture how he let himself get shot in the first place.” Camille rolled her eyes.

“That would explain a lot. My, if she’s not still enthralled when she wakes up, that will be something I wanna see.” He chuckled.

“Didn’t know you were into drama Zinoviya... though I’ll admit, I wanna see it as well.”

Dilip stared down at the report on his desk for a second before leveling a sharp look towards Sidereal.

“What do you know about these…”

“Sirens.” Sidereal completed.

“Yes, your teammates seem to consider them rather powerful.” He said, referring to some comments by Gust and Radiant when they had come back from the fort.

“Duly so. Our country’s had… mishaps with a coven of sirens a long time ago. They were subsequently banished by the most powerful unicorn available at the time with the help of a full team of elite ponies.”

“Banished you say?” The dog cocked his head.

“It is… seldom our preferred choice to use deadly force against our foes.” Sidereal conceded. “Before you say anything, we are aware of the consequences and have had enemies resurface several times during our history.”

“Why not kill them then?” Dilip asked just as he was serving himself a fresh cup of tea.

“It goes against our values, and we ponies are ready to face a foe a dozen times over if it means standing by our principles.”

The Captain quirked an eyebrow.

“What about monsters?”

“Monsters…” Sidereal winced. “Captain, I’m aware it is not always possible to get the outcome you desire, monsters are one such occurrence. We faced one on the way to Copenhagen and…” Her face fell. “It saddens me to admit we didn’t have any mean to solve the situation without loss of life. Ponies like Gust, they’re familiar with monsters unlike me, and even he had to admit death is often the only recourse when confronted with them.”

“Did the siren leave you a choice then?”

“I wish she did. She had a name you know.” Sidereal said softly.

“Did she, now?”

“Sonata Dusk. She…” Sidereal scowled. “She immediately resorted to violence, even though her species are intelligent creatures.”

“I actually find it rather noble of you ponies to be so dedicated to preserving life however…” Dilip said between two sips of his tea. “Oftentimes, people don’t want peace. You shouldn’t get caught up on the death of this… Sonata. She made her bed the moment she enthralled Anton, and from what Artyom told me she clearly wanted your death. If anything, her death is on me and my men, not your team… if that helps.”

“Thanks Captain…” Sidereal gave him a small smile.

“You should consider this to be an achievement to be celebrated. An ancient menace to your countrymen - err, ponies that is- laid low by a group of mismatched sailors and a couple ponies. Nobody died on our side either, so I’ll take that as a win if you won’t.” He concluded, downing his cup of tea.

“Alright. What’s next then?”

“The usual I suppose. A few expeditions to be sent outside until we finish our modifications on the Rhine. In the meantime if you could keep teaching magic and flying to the sailors, that would be great.” Dilip shrugged. “There are still some things we need to locate but we still have a week or two of work on the Rhine to look forward to before we think about moving on to a new port.”

And that hopefully by then the HPI would have told them where they wanted their prototypes delivered.

“We can probably get it all done in that time yes.” Sidereal nodded. “Then the time would come to part ways. I suppose teams like mine will inherently wind up looking further inland than you ever would.”

“Yeah I figured you would. Be certain that we will share what your team taught us to other survivors once the time comes. By the way, have you received an answer to yesterday’s report yet?”

“Negative.” Sidereal said. “I suspect that, given the full scope of the report, it might take them some time to gather the data I requested, in particular when you factor most of it is data Equestria doesn’t have on hoof.”

“Then we’ll wait for them to send it.”

Abyssinia had always been known as a trade nation; that much never really changed. They had been one of the countries hit the hardest by the Storm King’s rise to power when he and his troops had plundered the capital city of Panthera. That alone wasn’t even the worst of it. His mad rampaging destroyed the economy of the entire subcontinent and sent the whole country in a long period of recession.

They weren’t ready for that. Most of the country’s wealth came from service industries like banking, as well as the production of high-value goods and non-nutritive crops. Catnip and tobacco are nice, but they don’t feed a people. The situation had quickly spiraled out of control for half a decade before some expat Abyssinian philanthropists and foreign nations stepped in and helped the mercantile kingdom stabilize itself and set up more sustainable productions.

But the damage was done. Many had already fled the country and were only now starting to trickle back in. The Abyssinian crown had been forced to import foreign labor to restart their industry, and it now showed in the landscape of the capital city.

Whereas a decade ago, they would have found the local population to be entirely made of the local species of bipedal cats, now things were more mixed. Hippogriffs hailing from Seaquestria and Mt. Aris had built their own district near the harbor, some Equestrians had set up near the city centre, and even some Ornithian parrots were now found nesting near the airship docking tower. Each species had come with their own brand of architecture which now clashed against the original Abyssinian style foreigners so often compared to cat trees, much to the ire of the local architectural schools.

To be fair, few species ever decided to leave an entire floor open and only supported by pillars only to resume regular construction on the next. If a human had ever laid eyes on their buildings, they would have most likely described the Abyssinian style as the Eastern Orthodox Church deciding to build giant cat trees. All such buildings now were the chief characteristic of the city center, with its large avenues and well-lit streets that formed concentric circles around the royal palace and its brass decorations.

The other districts weren’t as richly decorated, and much less… comfortable to say the least. Coal-driven factories dotted the landscape, easily tracked by the large smoke columns that escaped out of their smokestacks. They were surrounded by towering stone buildings that served to house the many workers required to operate Panthera’s factories, each connected to the others by small metal bridges and walkways that floated above the many (dirty, obviously) canals and railways feeding into the factories and crossing through the already narrow streets. At night, these quarters were often obscured by the haze caused by the many stoves the residents used inside their homes, with only the relatively modern gas lamps managing to break through the murky darkness.

The contrast alone with the central quarter made many of the poorer areas of town resentful of the rich feline aristocrats that got to live in the ‘clean city’. Coupled with racial tensions between immigrants, both the King and Queen of Abyssinian knew they were treading on thin ice with most of the populace… and so did their political opponents, many of them being the same captains of industry that had helped with rebuilding the country.

High above the city stood the airship docking tower, which was also where most of the parrots inhabiting the city chose to reside, as seen by the bright paints and colored banners they liked to decorate their homes with (though the colors were nearly always dulled by smoke clouds drifting into the tower). Already built on a hill, the tall tower was a mass of steel girders, wood and concrete rising towards a summit where ramps extended in all directions for passing airships to dock and discharge their cargo. Unloaded packages would then be sent down to the ground and the many factories via an intricate network of cable cars that spread out towards secondary towers all over the city, forming a literal spider web of cables high above the city. It also had connections to a train station and the canal network at its foot to go with the cable cars.

A couple stories below the summit was a bar where airship crews would go catch some fun between two flights. It was built on an extension of the tower hanging hundreds of meters above the abyss in full view of the city. Patrons could look down through orange tinted windows at the bustling city below… when their drunken stupor allowed it. The bar wasn’t even that shoddy, what with its varnished wood, fancy carpets and the lustrous brass of the beer taps.

A lone parrot was enjoying her drink inside the hazy cigar lounge above the rest of the bar, comfortably nestled in a corner of the room on a blue velvety couch. Much like every female of her kind, she was of the lean, very tall type. She was covered from head to claws in ivory feathers except for her crest and tail which were emerald green.

On her shoulders was a sleeveless duffle coat bearing the ranks of Captain to go with a pair of loose work pants and several wooden bracelets she wore around her arms and ankles. The attentive observer would also have taken note of more subtle details like the large scar she had across her throat as well as the words ‘Cpt. Elaena’ and ‘SS Sirocco’ written on the breast of her coat.

Between two sips of her beer, she would take long drags from a cigar she set down in an ashtray next to a thick notebook that was nearing its bursting point from the amount of sheets she had added to it.

‘Let’s see…’ Her raspy voice muttered in Ornithian (a language humans would have identified as a mix of Spanish and Portuguese) while flipping through her book. ‘Summer’s barely beginning so maybe I could run a load of parcels to Klugetown, fill the rest of the hold with liquors, trade it all there for potion components and textiles and bring them to Zebrica? Not the most profitable of loads with the parcels but I could get a charter and go the entire season with it. Now what to pick from Zebrica…’ She mused, tapping a claw against a small map of the area to which she had adjoined some personal notes.

Elaena liked to call herself observant, which was what lead to much of the notes she had put in her ledger. She updated it frequently, the notes allowing her to keep tabs on who was buying what and when. A necessity for a freelance Captain like her. Her sister may scoff at the idea of transporting cargo, what with her pirate-y delusions, but she knew a well-planned route was far more lucrative (and also reliable) than whatever she could wave a falchion at.

Toppling the Storm King didn’t count. That was a onetime thing.

Her musings were interrupted by two figures entering the smoking room. The first one was a scrawny dark green gargoyle with a russet mane and a broken antler. The tunic and cloak he was wearing clearly depicted him as a mage, a young one going by his youthful looks.

He was clearly there as a bodyguard for the second figure, a short middle-aged Abyssinian with long orange fur and black spots on his ears. His clothes, a bottle green suit with a white shirt, waistcoat and golden pocket watch hanging off his belt made it apparent to everyone around him he was either a noble or a rich bourgeois, if the way he carried himself wasn’t enough of a tell anyway.

Elaena’s pink eyes tracked the two as they made a beeline for her table. Either she lucked out and this was a cat her sister’s band of so-called ‘scallywags’ (even thinking about the word made her cringe) had wronged, or she would be getting a contract tonight.

“Elaena Ceylan I presume?” The Abyssinian asked her in perfectly unaccented Equestrian with the very same tone she had come to expect from nobles.

She stared him the eyes, taking a drag of her cigar before setting it back down in the ashtray.

“Captain Elaena.” She said sternly. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” She asked, motioning towards the seat across from her.

The gargoyle pulled the seat back for his employer who sat down without acknowledging him before taking a step back. He crossed his arms and kept an eye on the room around them.

A newbie then. In Klugetown that might have been necessary… but in Panthera of all places? Laughable.

“I am Sir Armiger, industrial, investor and philanthropist.” The Abyssinian presented himself before letting out a small smile. “But please, call me Louis.”

That was new, a noble that’s not self-obsessed.

“Very well Louis, I’ll assume you didn’t come directly to me just to talk about the weather –sooty as it gets in this fine city-. Fair bit of warning however: if it’s about my sister, I am in no way responsible for her shenanigans, and I haven’t seen her in years anyway.” She told him.

Louis clapped his paws once in mild amusement.

“Fantastic then, I’m not here for her either.” He smiled brightly, revealing a row of sharp teeth. “I’m here for you specifically. Or rather, the Sirocco.”

Elaena shook her head and started rubbing her temples. This wasn’t the first time she was having this conversation.

“Listen, the Sirocco is my personal property and is a specialized ship. She’s not a toy for the average noble to fool around with.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a bareboat charter, nor that it was for leisure.” Louis corrected her. “I am in need of a small tonnage, small-sized airship with low crew requirements, high speed, and limited fuel consumption regardless of mechanical complexity.” He waved an arm around the room. “Last I checked there was one ship that actually fit the bill in town and I so happen to be having a chat with her Captain. No bareboat charter of course, your reputation alone gives me a good insight on your level of competence.”

“So you did your research.” Elaena raised her feathery brows. “Color me impressed. What does your contract entail?”

“A moment please.” He turned towards his gargoyle bodyguard. “Derek?”

The young gargoyle mutely handed him a manila folder before returning back to his position. Louis moved to show Elaena the folder before halting mid-motion and turning back towards Derek.

“Come to think of it, I do need a drink.” He said, fishing out a couple bills out of his pocket that he then handed over to the gargoyle. “No need to be so tense Derek, it’s only Panthera. Go grab me a gin and a cigar, and do take something for yourself. I heard they brewed a good lager over here.”

Derek politely nodded before moving off towards the bar.

“New hire?”

“Indeed. He’s actually a rather skilled mage, just a bit stressed by the job.” Louis let out a small chuckle. “Now, this contract. Have you been following the news recently?”

“You mean ‘business’ news or ‘regular’ news?” She asked before motioning towards the manila folder. “May I?”

“By all means.” He smiled, watching her open the folder and do a double-take at the first page.

“Captain, are you by any chance familiar with aliens?” Louis chuckled.

“How soon?”

“In two days, at noon.”

“I’m in.”

Author's Notes:

So, about Boris and Anton having a chat... I'll say it:

_Hawkward.

There, I did it, call the pun-police if you want.