The last day of June eventually came, and with it a series of rain clouds drifted over the Danish Capital, bringing with them brief showers along with an overcast sky that alleviated the worst of the summer heat.

The rain wasn’t all positives however. It sent the work crews on board of Rhine Forest scrambling for protective tarps the moment they realized it could very well wash off the still fresh layer of protective paint inside container bay. The arrival of rain also finally allowed them to try out the vacuum pumps at the bottom of said bay.

See, contrarily to Amandine and in similar fashion to many of the smaller container carriers that sailed the seas prior to the Event (a.k.a. feeders), Rhine Forest’s cargo bays were open to the skies. Not a single hatch cover. While it came with the advantage of facilitating access to their cargo, it meant the holds tended to accumulate water rather quickly. It also made her rather vulnerable to water ingress, something Captain Gerig was keenly aware of considering that might have been the cause behind the loss of one of Rhine’s sister ships. MS München disappeared way back in ’78, lost with all hands after one of the worst storms to ever sweep the Atlantic. All that was ever found of her were a couple lifeboats and barges, she never reached Savannah.

That’s what the pumps were for: the bottom of the holds had been covered in grates built over a structure shaped like an inverted V that lead into the bilges. With the ship’s policy of sailing trimmed by the stern, any rainwater (or even seawater, rare as it was for it to pass the main deck considering how high Rhine’s freeboard was) would then flow towards several sets of vacuum pumps installed aft of each of the ship’s compartments.

Needless to say, they had doubly made sure these pumps would be able to remove any water that ever flowed inside to the point where some sailors from Amandine called it ludicrously exaggerated. The light rain that fell that day wouldn’t have been able to threaten them even with the pumps at 2% output.

But it was done. As soon as the paint dried, their container bay would be operational, finally allowing them to load the wealth of containers they had brought back to the terminal. That included the containerized facilities found at the UNICEF depot as well as some homemade stuff like an armory and hydroponic facilities. Labs, additional cabins, workshops, and even a MRI scanner Doctor Delacroix had installed inside a container.

The end of the many modifications came as a relief for everyone in the fleet. This meant a lot of manpower was finally freed up to carry out more expeditions and keep watch around the terminal, all the welders could finally rest, and the installation of an armory on the barge carrier cleared a lot of space inside of Amandine’s own armory.

The hydroponics, lab and MRI scanner also made it possible to move on with a lot of experiments. A sizeable folder of experiment requests from the HPI had been building up in their backlog for the last few weeks. If that wasn’t enough, Sirocco’s delivery of seeds and potion manuals meant Doctor Delacroix was rather curious as to whether it would be possible for them to start producing health potions… or even any of the myriad of potions she discovered inside the manuals. Half a dozen of those would have been enough to revolutionize healthcare before the Event, so there was no way in hell the French-turned-hippogriff would pass that up.

For all she cared, the Earth Pony on the Equestrians’ team might even be able to help her with the hydroponics. He did say he was an agronomist after all.

Around mid-morning, a centaur stallion made his way to Captain Gerig’s office. Amadi entered the room with a dossier tucked under his arm, the Chief of the Barge Department quickly spotting the Captain behind her desk.

“Good morning Amadi, what brings you here this morning?” The small unicorn inquired, briefly tearing her baby blue eyes away from the stacks of paperwork she was tending to.

“Morning ma’am.” The centaur nodded in greeting. “I uh… do you remember that project I mentioned way back when we decided how to modify our ship?”

Raimund scratched the underside of her muzzle with one hoof, her pen coming to a hover midair next to her head.

“Was this the thing about adding more ships to our fleet? I’m sorry, there are so many things I have to keep track of, can’t remember everything we have on our backburner.”

“It is.” The Liberian eagerly confirmed before depositing his dossier on the Captain’s desk. “I thought with the closure of the first batch of works on the container bay we could… just maybe…” He hesitated. “… Consider doing it?”

Raimund’s eyes flicked between the centaur –who was quite awkwardly shuffling under her scrutiny- and the stack of papers inside the dossier.

“I see you did your research.” She commented as she quickly perused the contents of the files. “Care to sing me your pitch?”

“Aye Cap’n.” He perked up. “See, I think we could greatly improve the operational flexibility of our fleet if we added but a small number of auxiliary boats to our barge fleet.”

“Operational flexibility? Explain.”

“Well, I know we got the guys on Amandine. They’ve got their ship, and all the ground vehicles on board, which is great really. Means we can operate anywhere on land, and even mount mobile bases inside with a couple trucks and the containerized units we got from the UN. Now I thought about our role in the fleet, and I think we can go a lot further than just provide a lot of cargo space and tugboats.” He said all in one breath before pausing.

“Like the containers?”

“Containers, and any room or cargo you put inside one is something they can do as well.” Amadi pointed out. “What I mean is… them Amandine sailors, they can uh… project influence on land. But we on the other hand… or hoof… we can do it at sea.” The centaur absently stomped his hoof for emphasis. “Be more like a proper mothership, mind. I say, in addition to the tugs –useful as they are, they can’t go very far- we could take some escort boats for all kinds of stuff. We take a couple small trawlers, and then we can send out expeditions all around further than with road vehicles, without the risk of land monsters, they can fish to get fresh food. We can even arm them if we want! Actually we could even get some actual patrol boats for that; and maybe even hovercrafts to land in areas without ports.”

And he had done his research on the stuff. With the help of the Rhine’s secretary, as well as that of Roberto on Amandine, he had found the locations of several small shipyards in the region. Not the kind of yards that made ships like Rhine, far from it, but they made boats the size of which could fit on top of their barge stacks.

They had even found the catalogues of some of these yards. Some of them did produce the hovercrafts and patrol boats he boasted about. Amadi had dutifully drawn up a list of criteria they needed for any boat they might add to Rhine’s fleet. Size, weight, engine and fuel type.

While the centaur was fervently explaining what he had found about boats and their possible uses, Raimund had crossed her hooves on her chest, glancing down at the ‘patrol boats’ page of the dossier. There was a pamphlet from Damen, a Dutch shipbuilder she remembered as making frigates and corvettes.

Corvettes uh… Escorts. That’s what navy fleets used to protect capital ships. Carriers, amphibious assault ships, vessels couldn’t fight properly. In that respect they were not unlike Rhine or Amandine. They didn’t have proper weapons, .50 cals barely registering as noteworthy in naval warfare.

Admittedly, she was more worried about monster-to-ship than ship-to-ship warfare, but still.

Going down the page, her eyes landed on another advert featuring a British manufacturer.

“Amadi, what can you tell me about this one?”

The centaur abruptly stopped his pitch to take a look at the file the small unicorn was pointing at.

“The Berthon 20 Interceptor. According to our intel there was a local yard that produced it under license somewhere in the Danish archipelago. Seemed like a good design to me.”

And as he explained, he didn’t put it there without reasons. The design might not feature a ‘proper’ cannon or any gun bigger than a .50 cal, but it had three of them. Furthermore, the design was made with ‘weapon pods’ in mind, something which allowed the boats to be fitted with two Mk46 torpedoes or a set of Sea Spear missiles on their aft pod depending on the mission while still apparently being able to achieve speeds of 65 knots. They didn’t seem to lack anything when it came to endurance either: their 500NM range, whilst not big, was certainly nothing to scoff at.

“Alright, get me those, we’re gonna need them.”

“Really?” Amadi said enthusiastically.

“Yes, really.” The mare slammed a hoof on her desk for emphasis. “Consider this the green light for your project. I want as many of those patrol boats as you can find, along with as many torpedoes and missiles as we can accommodate even if it turns us into a potential Halifax explosion, copy that?”

“Parts?”

“Of course take parts along; I don’t want us to waste our time machining them.” She said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Prep me an expedition request for this evening, priority one goes to acquiring these armed escorts. Two goes for hovercraft or any kind of low draft landing vehicle the barge holds can accommodate.”

“Aye ma’am. What about prio’ three?”

“Trawlers. Any room we have left for fishing vessels you fill it. Might even be able to arm them eventually for all I care.” She barked. “Try to make sure they’re of the same class, I don’t want to collect parts for thirteen different kinds of engine.”

“Of course, of course.” Amadi nodded repeatedly at the much shorter filly.

The Liberian centaur departed soon after, leaving behind a rather satisfied Captain. With a smile on her muzzle she pulled an extract from the Equestrian bestiary out of her desk’s drawer. On it were pictures taken from the sea monsters’ section of the book. She brushed the tip of a hoof against a picture comparing the size of a sea serpent to that of a pony before reaching for her phone.

“Hoy Dilip,” She said jovially as soon as she heard someone pick up on the other end “Believe it or not, but the solution to our worries about sea monsters basically just landed on my desk.”

Elsewhere on Amandine, a young gargoyle mage was seen hesitantly making his way inside of the repair shop. All around him were vehicles in various state of repair being tended to by sailors from Amandine’s engineering department, with the sounds of welding and grinding resonating loudly against the walls.

After asking around for directions, Derek came to a halt next to a car lift currently supporting one of the ship’s Defenders. Next to it were tools carefully laid side by side on a cloth, as well as a pair of hooves poking out from underneath the vehicle.

“Excuse me?” The young mage tried. “The name’s Derek, I’m looking for Mister Nikola Dimitrov.”

He caught a sigh from the mechanic before seeing two hands grasp the truck’s front bumper, Nikola rolling out from underneath the truck a second later. There was an impatient look on the Bulgarian gargoyle’s scarred face, which barely abated when he noticed his visitor was one of the newcomers that came with Sirocco.

“What is it now? Can’t you see I’m busy?” He said gruffly, jabbing a thumb towards the truck but not standing up from his creeper.

“I’m sorry uh…”

“Damn right you are.” Nikola snorted, tempted to just dive back under the truck and ignore the bugger.

“Whatever,” Derek shook his head. “I was told the ponies had already done a briefing with generalities for all species, so we’re planning to give some species-specific ones soon.”

“And you’re coming to me… why exactly? Kiddo, if you’re wondering about when to do it just check out the work schedules in the ship’s office. Artyom can show you, he does the planning for us ratings.”

“I did… Actually I should tell you about that. In our culture it’s always left up to the elders to make decisions. Your work schedules crosses over with the others on the Rhine, so it’s up to you to choose.”

“Wait, I’m the eldest?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Beat a guy called Witold by two months.”

“Ain’t that a surprise.” He whistled. “I’m older than ol’ Polish Navy guy. With the way I look nowadays you’d hardly believe that.”

“I take it he didn’t get as lucky when it came to post-Event youthening?”

“That he didn’t.” Niko nodded. “Not that I’d have any idea how we’re supposed to age you know…” He mused, distractedly scratching the scar across his muzzle with one greasy finger.

“Hence the briefing.”

“Right! Briefing uh…” He scrunched his face, thinking of the best time. “Don’t wanna cut short tonight’s game with Artyom so… what about nine in the evenin’? Can’t take that long now, can it?”

“Well now,” Derek knelt down by him. “Might take a while actually. See, we gargoyles, we’re rather polyvalent to put it mildly.”

“How so?”

“You know how unicorns can do magic, and that they need training?”

“Well, duh.” Nikola rolled his eyes. “Figured that.”

“Then did you figure you could as well?”

“Ain’t that new.” He snorted. “Pal, if I could lift stuff with my mind like sphinxes and unicorns I’d know. I think.”

Derek’s response was to point his hand towards the set of tools next to Nikola. A green glow appeared around his forearm before a torque wrench rose up in the air. Nikola quickly snatched it out of the air before it could float away; carefully placing it back on the cloth it had been laid on a few seconds prior.

“Fine, we can do magic.” He growled before turning towards the mage, an irritated look in his eyes. “I was wrong. I’ll just give you a warning: don’t touch a mechanic’s tools without asking. Ever.”

“Alright, fine.” Derek held up his hands in a placating manner, the young mage even taking a step back. “But don’t you want to know a bit more? Even just now?”

“Okay, but let’s keep the briefing at nine for now. We’ll plan out training once we’re together.”

Derek nodded curtly and went on to tell him the basics about gargoyles. He mostly talked about magic, making a passing mention that he had asked for the gargoyles of both ships to be inducted into the same flight training as the dragons, what with their wing layout being somewhat similar (as in: both being the only bipedal species with wings on their backs).

As for their magic, it was actually similar to that of unicorns, albeit with a few noticeable differences. For one, gargoyles didn’t have their foci directly linked to their brains. In their case, it was the marrow in their forearms that played that role (though for some reason many on Equus tended to believe they did it with their antlers, a common mistake).

In practice the difference was that while unicorns tended to be more geared towards specializing in certain areas, gargoyles on the other hand benefitted from having far greater versatility. Most unicorns only ever learned a dozen spells in their lifetime, including those tied to their Cutie Marks.

Gargoyles differed from that by having very intuitive spellcrafting, which resulted in them instinctively creating their own spell lattices, even untrained gargoyles. It wasn’t uncommon for the average middle-aged gargoyle to have something like forty spells in their repertory, some –if not most- homemade.

That was probably due to their foci not being directly connected to their brain. Far safer when experimenting. Weaving the energies using two arms instead of just one horn might also be more intuitive. Equestrian spells tended to require a lot of mental discipline with few gestures, the complete opposite of gargoyle magic.

Not that they were better than unicorns. What they had in versatility, they clearly lacked in power.

“Might be why none of us gargoyles in the fleet discovered out magic yet.” Niko mused.

“Maybe. Fact is: we don’t have the stopping power of unicorns, let alone that of powerhouses like sphinxes.” Derek said before tapping the glowing gem he wore in the center of his leather rig. “Professional mages like me need to resort to artificial foci like that one to make up for the difference. We also can’t brute force our way through most issues they can. Not a problem if you ask me…” He shrugged. “… Forces us to be crafty.”

Nikola eyed the gem critically.

“Artificial foci?”

“Think of it like a gem that’s enchanted to draw power from its surroundings and store residual magic. I got that big one and a couple more in my pouches, plus some potions and stuff that helps me. When I run short on juice I just cast a spell to suck some power out of the gem. The smaller gems in my pouches can do the same thing, but I also paired them with some enchantments to facilitate certain types of spells.” Derek explained before digging into one of said pouches.

What he pulled out was some kind of glowing topaz. The gem had a metal band wrapping around it, as well as a couple runes and sigils chiseled on its surface. Switching to a cross legged position, the young mage passed it to Nikola who took it in his hand with a bit of apprehension.

As he held it in his hand, he could feel a soft thrumming course through his arm, as if the gem was vibrating.

“I made that one for spells related to light and electricity. The trick I have with those is to cast the spell through the gem to be more efficient. When I use it alongside the adequate potions, I can basically cast my spells with no effort… at least until the gem runs out of power and I’m forced to wait until it recharges.”

“Complicated stuff that magic it sounds.” Niko muttered, turning the topaz this way and that in his hand. “Sounds a bit much for a guy like me.”

“I’ll keep it to the basics. Advanced stuff like that is an affair for graduates from a magical academy like me. What I’m going to teach you and the other gargoyles is just the basics; the rest will be left up to you and the books we leave behind.”

“That I can work with.” He gave back the gemstone. “Anything else I should know?”

Derek’s eyes trailed over the prominent scar running across Niko’s muzzle, the same one he had got in France, courtesy of the Quarray eels (yes, quar-ray not quarry, as written in the Equestrian Bestiary).

“Did I tell you my surname?”

“Ne, not really.”

“Fireburst. My full name is Derek Fireburst. Now do you know the thing with gargoyle names?”

“Obviously not.” Nikola rolled his eyes.

“Nobody’s born with a surname in our culture. They’re earned during our teenage years; it’s sort of our rite of passage into adulthood.”

“But how do you keep track of families?”

“Magical imprints, can’t lie with those, and it works hella good to prevent cuckoldry.” Derek shrugged. “Plus as a whole it tends not to be much of a problem. Gargoyle culture doesn’t put too much focus on extended family.”

“So… magic DNA testing?”

“I have no idea what DNA is, but a magical imprint is something we use to track someone’s lineage. It’s not even that hard to learn, though for some reason other races don’t like using it.”

“Gee, with what you just claimed about cuckoldry it’s a surprise.” Niko drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I don’t see what you’re talking about.” The young mage quirked his head. “Adultery’s a criminal offense where I’m from; it’s a serious matter for us.”

“I can imagine.” Nikola shook his head. “Back to surnames?”

“Right. When I was born it was just ‘Derek’ and no ‘Fireburst’ to speak of. In fact we also translate names, so my actual surname is ‘Ohňostroj’.” He explained, absently reaching for his tail and fiddling with the tassel at the tip. “I got it during the entrance exam to the magical academy. They wanted us to demonstrate a fireball spell…” He told with a wince.

Sometimes, pyrotechnic spells can work too well. The academy teachers had been just as surprised as he had been when what should have only been a small ball of embers punched right through the walls of the exam room and started feeding off the ambient magic for power.

Turns out, sometimes you should just keep it simple.

“So how much damage did it do?” Nikola chuckled.

“I may or may not have destroyed an entire wing of the academy.”

The Bulgarian mechanic choked back a laugh.

“It’s not funny!”

“Kind of is. So I’d wager, if you get a surname based on your deeds, I’d be called…”

“Scarface. Definitely Scarface.” Derek stated.

“No surprise there, peeps already call me that around the ship.” He shook his head ruefully. “Meh, at least that’s a name I can carry with pride, though I won’t give up my original family name.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. We’re not here to supplant your culture with ours after all.” Derek concluded, finally standing up.

“I’d tell you more, but Sir Armiger’s probably waiting for me right now and you’ll be hearing it during the briefing either way.”

“Yeah got it, scamper off kid, I got some work to do myself.”

On that note, Nikola laid back down on his creeper and pulled himself back under the truck, one hand already reaching for his tools.

“There we go, that should do it.” Johann said proudly, finally closing the electrical cabinet he had been focused on for the last few minutes.

The cabinet in question was attached to a boxy structure made from corrugated steel that had quite obviously been taken from some unused shipping containers. In fact the entire device was pretty much a repurposed twenty-foot container. That was how they had designed it at least.

Out of the top of the device, a simple antenna rose half a dozen stories above the landscape around them, its thin mast kept in place by a couple cables solidly anchored in the concrete of the docks. That would ensure the radio antenna would last a while before something knocked it loose.

Not that he’d assume this relay would last forever, but at least he could expect it not to fail within at least a couple months without maintenance.

The container and antenna weren’t the only things present either. They had plugged a small wind turbine and a couple solar cells to the thing so that it wouldn’t depend on the local power grid. The Northern European grid may still have some power in it thanks to its reliance on green energy, but all those wind turbines would fail sooner or later. The radio relay would rely on its own power, with the turbine and solar cells feeding power into several banks of batteries that would ensure it could remain operational even under adverse weather conditions.

“Thank you so much!” Sandra gushed, the batpony mare trotting over to Johann and wrapping him in a ‘wing hug’.

“It’s nothing. Kind of my job as electrician.” The batpony stallion smiled, his black fur thankfully hiding the small blush that was creeping its way onto his muzzle. She was kinda cute… for a mare.

He still was a bit weirded out by the change.

“Nonsens, nobody forced you to do this. Even Captain Prateek barely considered this as more than a pet project.”

“Well now you will get your radio broadcast.” He looked up at the radio relay.

They had made sure to set it up in an unused part of Copenhagen’s harbor. No crane or buildings there to block out the waves, but still sheltered enough that it wouldn’t be destroyed by bad weather as soon as they left. Even installing the thing wasn’t overly complicated, it being designed out of a shipping container meant they could easily pile all the components on a truck and assemble it on site in as little as two hours.

With a design like that it shouldn’t be too much trouble seeding these relays in any port they stopped in. The parts themselves weren’t that hard to find and assemble. Come to think of it, the software might have been the hardest thing to figure out, if only to make sure the system was secure in a way that nobody could hack into their relays without the proper password.

“Funny thing…” Sandra mused as she looked up towards the antenna as well.

“What?”

“I always dreamed of having my own radio station you know… never figured it would take some weird kind of apocalypse to make it possible.” She whispered, her tone so low even Johann’s batpony ears had a hard time picking it up.

He chuckled.

“You know what this makes me think of?”

“Shoot.”

“You know Fallout? The videogame that is.”

“I think one of my friends played that.” She scrunched her muzzle in thought. “What is it about?”

“It’s a RPG about what happens after a nuclear war. They always have this radio presenter going on in the background, talking to survivors between bouts of old-school music, giving advice and telling them what’s going on.”

“Hvor mærkeligt. Bar the old-school music that’s exactly what I was planning to do.”

“So what were you going to play then? Doubt you can keep talking 24/7, and even then repeating prerecorded shows can get annoying.”

“Dunno really.” The smaller mare shrugged with her wings. “Haven’t decided yet. I kinda like rock music but it’s not that popular and the broadcast is worldwide. I’ll try to mix things up, ask around the fleet for suggestions. Maybe even get some of them to translate the podcasts.”

Her eyes then caught a ray of sun reflecting off of something on the side of the radio relay.

“What’s that?”

“That? Oh, it’s something I added last minute.” Johann explained as he approached a small plaque welded next to where they had connected the cables from the solar cells. “I had it engraved in Amandine’s workshop, it’s just a small explanation regarding what the relay is in English, along with contact data just in case some survivors manage to track them down.”

They lapsed into silence for a minute, both of them staring up at the antenna and the swirling blades of the wind turbine.

“You think I will do well?” Sandra asked him.

“With a voice like yours they’ll love it.”

“Really? You think I have a nice voice?”

“I hmm… I mean… Ja.” Johann stuttered. “Your accent is kinda cute… I think.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” She smiled amiably.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the Rhine’s resident electrician shift his weight from one hoof to another before the stallion visibly swallowed.

“Say, I was wondering…” He started.

“Yes?”

“I was jogging around the quays this morning and there was this sweet spot with a small jetty in view of the city. Maybe we could… get there after the flight lessons you know? Grab a piece of cloud and enjoy the sight.”

“Like a date?” She smirked, half turning away from him.

“Like a date.” He nodded, a bit too firmly before it made his dark blue mane fall in front of his eyes.

Purely for show and to make him sweat a bit, Sandra scratched the underside of her muzzle with one hoof as if she was hesitating. She held the position for a couple seconds before turning back to the German batpony with a small smile.

“I’d be delighted. After the flight lessons?”

“I’ll meet you by Amandine’s stern ramp.”

Right then he saw one of her ears swivel in the general direction of the ships, her features frowning in concentration.

“Excuse me?” Johann tilted his head.

“Oh sorry.” She laughed awkwardly. “It’s not you, it’s my Cutie Mark. See, I think it’s what allows me to listen to radio waves, like a biological antenna. I’ve been eavesdropping on the VHF chatter to train it whenever I can.”

“Really? That’s awesome! Can you talk back?”

“Haven’t tried yet.” She shook her head. “VHF is kinda hard to pick up; I have a better time with lower frequencies, to the point where I need to shut them out with my headphones sometimes. I’ve been experimenting with the ‘bat’ side of things for a few days.”

“So have I. Night vision’s really cool when you’re an electrician I can tell you, and I can even use my echolocation to look for wires through walls. It’s awesome!”

The two of them started talking about their experiments with their newfound capabilities while tidying up the tools used to set up the relay. Bad as it was that the transformation had robbed them of their hands, they were slowly but surely starting to figure out the intricacies of their change and getting used to their new bodies. They swapped tips, telling each other about ways they had found to cope with the changes, from common stuff like fur care to more practical things like how they had to adapt their stuff to be manipulated by a batpony’s webbed wings.

“So no, while I appreciate your concerns, I can ensure you they are unfounded.”

“No reason to fear a group of survivors would steal nukes then?”

“As I said Captain, nukes are complex pieces of technology. Setting them off is far more complicated than lighting a firecracker. A mere civilian stands no chance of getting to that point, and any competent land-bound personnel that would reappear is unlikely to reappear along with enough hands –if they even have any that is- in their group to arm a nuke.” Eko said from the other end of the video call. “Furthermore, we did keep tabs on nuclear arsenals prior to the Event. Their retrieval is one of our top priorities as soon as technology allows.”

Yeah, and that was a reassuring prospect. Stereotypical shady group starts hoarding the nukes. Can’t go wrong at all. Not that Dilip would ever say that to Eko’s face…

“Alright, and I’d wager you’d be able to contact any reappearing ship that’s armed with nuclear warheads.”

“Indeed.” The Indonesian told. “I don’t suppose you changed your mind on the retrieval of nuclear materials? We’re willing to increase our prices for those, enriched materials in particular.”

“No chance I’m afraid.” He raised a paw at the camera. “I’ve never had to transport that kind of cargo, and I don’t intend to begin the process with a decaying infrastructure and little to no support. Tell your superiors I’m sorry, but the safety of my ship and crew takes priority over monetary gains.”

“Pity.” Eko clicked his tongue, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “You didn’t seem to have quite as many calms with nuclear power plants.”

“The plants were a threat to life. All that uranium however, isn’t. It can very well stay there until you get it yourself. Putting aside the matters of radiation, our fleet should soon be able to leave port, will you be ready to reception the prototypes?”

“As a matter of fact, we should. Our R&D department finally released its first prototypes and given us a workable date.” Eko said, already reaching for a stack of files on the side of his desk.

“How soon?”

“One month, give or take. After that we will be able to send a team to get them.”

“Excellent news then. Now, me and my Officers need to know where you lot want your cargo delivered. We need to chart that voyage and retrieve any intel we can on local port facilities.”

“For now? We have chosen a rail yard in Savannah, next to the container terminal. I’ll send you the coordinates. A seaport like that shouldn’t pose any trouble for sailors like yours now, should it?”

“As long as we can prepare for it.” Dilip paused. “Pardon me for not knowing American geography by heart, but which state are we talking about?”

“Georgia.” The HPI agent said with a roll of his eyes.

“Ah… Georgia…” Dilip smacked his lips. “Drawing a blank there I’m afraid.”

“It’s just north of Florida. As I said: we will send you the coordinates. And Captain?”

“Aye?”

Eko leaned forward in his chair, fingers gripping the armrests tightly and addressing the Diamond Dog a piercing look.

“You have yet to give me a reason to doubt your allegiances. I trust you would not sour the potential gains both of us can get from this alliance for nothing, uh?”

Dilip picked up on the meaning, but he only responded with an amiable smile.

“My collaborators and I very much valuate the agreement we currently have with your organization. Be certain that we understand it is in our direct interest to work alongside you and we will share data and intelligence gained during our voyages.”

“I’m sure you will Prateek, I’m sure you will. Goodbye.”

And with that, Eko’s face disappeared from the screen, leaving behind nothing but the grassy hill of the main menu. Dilip’s shoulders sagged.

“Fuck.”

He needed to throw them off for a while. Needed to throw some intel at them so they wouldn’t pry. Needed to get that lab running to keep the HPI guys happy. Needed them not to discover they were basically hiding aliens from them…

The airship. The goddamn airship with balloons so big a satellite could see them. He needed to get Sirocco away from Copenhagen, at least until they could give the HPI something to chew on.

And most of all, he needed some tea.

He called Sidereal’s cabin.

“Good afternoon Doctor, I think we need to talk some more about Narvik.”

“But the good ferry-man and his wife lived happily ever after, as king and queen. And they gave a grand ball to the nobility and to the people.... The Self-playing Guitar furnished the music, the wonderful purse scattered gold all the time, and the king entertained all the guests right royally.” Vadim read out in Polish, intermittently glancing down from his book to the form of Andy in her bed.

He was lying down beside the young chick in her bed, reading her the tale of the Good Ferry-man and the Water Nymphs for her nap. She was clearly tired as he reached the end of the tale, blinking slowly as she hovered somewhere between the ‘awake’ and ‘asleep’ status, claws kneading her plush blanket.

Vadim knew she didn’t understand most of what he was saying, though she did seem to pay attention to his voice from time to time when he made a show of pointing at pictures in the book he was reading from. It was an old paperback collection of Polish fairy tales he had stuffed in his cabin, lost for a while under a pile of historical books about the Eastern Front.

He had no idea where he got it from, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Andy let out a final yawn as Morpheus finally claimed victory over her and she nodded off, a content purr escaping the little griffon’s throat. He smiled fondly at her before shutting the book in one soft motion and draping her blanket over her. The book found its way under his coveralls before Vadim carefully snuck out of Andy’s cabin, mindful not to wake up the snoozing kid.

He almost woke her up anyway when Micha surprised him outside the cabin, the hen sneaking up on him and draping a wing over his back.

“Gee, never knew you were such a scaredy-cat Vad’.” She chuckled as both griffons started walking towards the Ukrainian’s cabin.

“I’m not; you just surprised me is all. I was more focused on not waking the kid up than paying attention to what was going on outside.”

“She asleep?”

“Eeyup, good for her afternoon nap.” He said, letting out a yawn himself. “Kinda glad I found that old fairy tale book.” He added, pulling it out of his coveralls to show her.

“Now where did you get that old thing?”

“No idea.” He shrugged. “But it’s in Polish, and I figured you’d want the kid to be raised speaking that. Just so she gets a mother tongue of her own you know…”

“Wait, you don’t want her to learn English?”

“Not as her mother language. English… it’s the lingua franca on board, but it’s precisely because it’s that I don’t want her to only know English. She needs a language she can call her own, and English ain’t that, not on this ship. She’s a kid too; they’re damn good at learning languages when they’re that young anyway. She’ll pick up both languages like it’s nothing, and I wouldn’t even be surprised to hear her spout something in Hindi just from hanging around Rahul-”

“-or swear words.” Micha pointed out.

“That too.” Vadim deplored. “She’ll pick up a lot of them, and I don’t think there is much we can do about it considering some of us use them like commas.”

“You said it yourself: a merchant vessel ain’t the best place to raise a kid.”

“Neither is anywhere during the apocalypse, mind.” He commented just as they neared his own cabin. “Now, all that getting the kid to sleep made me drowsy myself and I had an early watch this morning.”

“You’re taking naps now?” Micha laughed.

Vadim entered his cabin, motioning with one wing for his mate to come in. They had reached an odd point of sorts, with neither abandoning their cabin even though they spent most nights sleeping in each other’s embrace. In fact the Ukrainian was pretty sure some of his stuff was trickling its way into her cabin, just as hers was starting to appear in his.

That Sabaton poster definitely wasn’t his for one.

“Ain’t a crime last I checked.” He said as he hopped on his bed, soon joined by Micha. “I mean, you may not have that much work to do except for expeditions, but I got most of my timetable filled with watches, medical duties that somehow now include research, the kitchen assistance thing, flight lessons, taking care of Andy when I can, running maintenance, and then I got to spare time for Camille’s medical lessons and the entire libraries she has me read through. For God’s sake, show me some mercy there Mich’.”

“Now that you mention it, you did get shafted with all those duties.” She mused as she laid down next to him, nipping at his neck in passing to remove a broken feather.

“It’s crazy you mean!” He complained. “You’d think that considering the only ‘contract’ we have hasn’t even given us a destination yet, we’d have some more free time but here I am running around like a hummingbird on crack.”

He quickly threw a look towards his nightstand to check the time.

If he fell asleep right then, he might be able to sneak two hours of sleep before dinner. He’d have to chug a coffee or two to retain enough awareness for the flight lessons but provided it didn’t take too much time and he avoided Camille and her ‘extra reading lists’ he might get enough sleep…

Before being forced to wake up at four in the morning for the next watch, of course.

He should probably ask Angelo for some Red-Bull, that might actually help.

“Vadim?” Micha interrupted his musings, the hen brushing her beak through his neck feathers and eliciting a purr out of him.

“Uh?”

“I don’t mean to insult you or anything, but maybe you should talk to the Captain about your daily planning.”

“But why? I can do it.”

“You shouldn’t though. And you don’t have to either. Remember: Geert is an Officer now.”

“So?”

“We kept the same duty plan as before, right? That means the duties of the Third Officer are still set the same as when it was only you. You should bring it up to the Captain, she can probably take the burden of your maintenance stuff so you can focus on your watches and medical duties.”

“That… that’s actually not a bad idea.” He admitted. “But… I know it’s necessary but I don’t like the medical stuff. If I give up the maintenance… I fear it’d be like conceding defeat you know? Like… like first it’ll be the maintenance, then I won’t be needed for voyage planning and navigation and eventually…” The Ukrainian griffon let out an annoyed trill. “… that I’ll be just that: some weird kind of Doctor that’s not really an Officer anymore.”

He felt the wing she had draped over his back tighten and pull him closer.

“It won’t, I promise. And if you’re afraid that’s the way it’ll go, I’ll make sure we visit the Captain together so it’s clear it won’t ever get that bad, ok?”

Vadim leaned deeper into her embrace, his tail already starting to wrap around hers even though both were still encased in the ‘tail-sleeve’ they had added to their coveralls for extra protection. The two of them lapsed into silence, Vadim almost managing to slide into slumber before being nudged awake by his mate.

“Say Vad’, I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“Well shoot.”

“That violin case you got in your wardrobe… what’s it for? I know you’re somewhat into classical music but I never heard you play.”

The violin case in question had been on the edge of her mind for the last few days, its battered leather a common sight whenever she found herself in Vadim’s cabin, tauntingly daring her to ask what exactly it was doing there.

“I can play. Pretty decently actually. I just don’t usually do it. Learned way back when I moved to Poland…” Vadim trailed off, resting his beak on his forelegs.

He knew the violin inside was nothing special, and that it was just as beaten and battered as the case it came with. Not that it mattered, he had always been very insistent on having it fixed whenever needed.

He did keep it for a reason. That reason being tied to the original name written inside, which accompanied a very particular photo.

“Did I ever tell you how I came to live in Poland?”

“Only that you grew up with your uncle and your mom. You lived in Kiev before, right?”

“Yeah… Right.” He clicked his beak. “Moved to Poland when I was… five I think? It’s a bit blurry at that age. We didn’t do it for no reason mind, my mom was forced to move in with my uncle who lived all the way in Krakow when she realized she couldn’t take care of me and my brothers on her own.”

“Why was she on her own Vadim?”

The grey falcon griffon went silent for a minute, almost holding a staring contest with the violin case.

“Dad died. That violin, it was his you see. He worked at the National Philharmonic for a living. Pretty good at it too from what I was told. But then… one night he puts me to bed before going to a concert and all is good. Then I wake up the next day and I learn that was the last I’d ever see of him. Drunk fuck T-boned him as he was coming back after the concert, half a kilometer from where we lived. Frankly, I don’t know what’s worse: knowing my brothers grew up without a single memory of him or that I was more concerned about some shit cartoon that morning rather than by the death of my own father.”

“Vad’… it’s normal for kids that age not to fully comprehend it.” Micha tried to comfort him.

“I know that… doesn’t make it any less ridiculous, didn’t make it any less painful when my brothers looked at a family picture and went ‘who’s that guy?’ while pointing at dad.”

“So you keep the violin to remember him?”

“Yeah, mom forced me to learn. Bored me to death when I was little but eh, that’s a nice skill to put on your CV I guess?” He lamented. “Never tried it to make it more than a hobby though…”

“Vadim?”

“Yeah?” He turned his focus away from the violin case and back to her.

“Thanks for telling me that. Can’t be easy.” She said, pressing herself closer to him. “Eh, for all we know maybe one day we’ll get you to play for the crew.”

Vadim’s eyes flicked back to the violin.

“Maybe one day.”

“I’m a what now?” Marta repeated.

The nurse was still inside of Rhine’s infirmary, watching Derek and Armiger come drop off a crate of health potions. Only the first-aid variant unfortunately, the stronger healthcare-grade they would have to make themselves. The two creatures from Sirocco (or rather: Derek carrying the crate and Armiger basically enjoying the sights) had deposited the crate in the office so she could store the potions later, only for Armiger to make a passing remark about her species.

“Name varies depending on where you ask.” The Abyssinian noble turned back towards her between two interested glances at the clinic around him. “Ask the Equestrians, they’ll call creatures like you something like ‘Storm Creatures’ in reference to the Storm King. Ask anywhere in the southern hemisphere and they’ll probably call you ‘Hedgefolk’ or ‘Hedgefog’. Both are technically correct, they just put emphasis on different aspects of your species’ innate magic.”

“Magic? I can do magic? And who’s that ‘Storm King’ anyway?”

“Not in the same fashion as gargoyles or unicorns, no.” Derek interceded with a shake of his head. “It’s… more elementally-tied, like dragons. As for the Storm King, he was a tyrant that abused the hedgefolk to rise to power before moving on to conquer and ravage half the world with his fleet of airships.”

The young gargoyle then turned halfway towards his boss.

“Sir, may I give her a small explanation, if only briefly?”

“Proceed.” Armiger agreed with a flourish of his paw before pulling a chair next to Marta’s desk.

In the same fashion as Abyssinians and parrots, hedgefolk were basically the result of magic (or Harmony, as Ponies would claim) ‘uplifting’ regular hedgehogs into sentience. Their coarse dark grey fur and white quills matched the hedgehog breed they branched off from, though their ‘wild’ brethren was near extinct by the time the Storm King rose to power.

The land they came from wasn’t welcoming by any stretch of imagination. It was an entire subcontinent with jagged terrain and massive basalt outcroppings breaking up the landscape, leaving only narrow valleys and barren windswept plateaus as workable land. Even then that land was never taken for granted, thanks in no small part to the geological instability the area was subject to. The birches, the only trees capable of growing on the poor soil, never grew tall before an earthquake or a landslide ripped them out of their roots.

Vegetation and arable land were also rather poor, with pioneer species being the only ones to ever grow naturally, and arable land being a rare thing which forced hedgefolk to invest in alternatives like fisheries and algae culture. They were also the only species on Equus to actually use lichen in their traditional food, since they could digest the toxins and the thing grew all over the place.

All of this resulted in hedgefolk culture evolving into two parts: settlements on the shores of the subcontinent gathered around fishing spots and algae farms, and the other part of the population adopting a more nomadic lifestyle where they traveled with their airships around the hinterland, temporarily stopping above the rare strips of arable land for a few harvests before leaving them to recover.

On the plus side, their mining industry yielded magically-infused minerals only found in trace amounts anywhere else on the planet. The only saving grace of the entire subcontinent, because even the weather seemed against them, ironically the reason behind their innate magic and why they got called ‘Storm Creatures’ or ‘Hedgefog’.

“Why is that?” Marta asked.

“You’ll see.”

A cold and wet climate, that’s what these guys were stuck with, which was only made worse by the warm air that often washed against their shores from nearby Abyssinia. This clash of cold and warm near their shores resulted in a sort of ebb and flow system where half the year was taken up by an alternation between thunderstorms and heavy fog.

And somehow, that’s what Harmony decided to match their innate magic to. Fog and storms.

“Sounds like bullshit.” Marta snorted.

“I think this calls for a demonstration.” Armiger smiled before standing up, the feline staring Marta down with a glint in his eyes.

“A demonstration? Kitten you’re talking bull…” The wheelchair-bound Pole waved at herself. “… I don’t even know what I can do. You think I’m suited for a demonstration?!”

“Simple…” Armiger smiled, Marta then spotting one of his paws reaching for the flintlock holstered on his hip. “Incentives!” He cried before flicking the hammer and pointing the gun right between her eyes.

An icy sensation ran down her spine, the primal instinct of fight-or-flight calling to her as her electric blue eyes focused on the muzzle of the gun a mere centimeters away from her muzzle.

Get away. Get to safety. GET AWAY!

There was a feeling, like her ears popping. In the blink of an eye, the world seemingly turned gray.

“There we go.” Armiger winked at her before holstering the flintlock and sitting back down. “Your demonstration, milady.”

Marta looked at her paws in wonder; the limbs had taken on a wispy, ethereal appearance. Dark grey fur had turned to translucent white, like…

Like fog.

“So that’s why we’re called Hedgefogs.” Was all she said, watching herself turn back to corporeal form.

She wasn’t even mad at the pistol thing. That was kinda amazing.

“Precisely.” Armiger nodded. “Your species’ fight-or-flight reflex is geared towards escaping. In the prevalent fog banks where they come from, it works very well to run away from danger. You’re also intangible when you do that… except to species that can cloudwalk, obviously.”

She picked up on the fight-or-flight thing and asked Derek to elaborate.

“Most Hedgefogs are rather skittish in nature, paranoid even, unlike species like centaurs and minotaurs who face threats head-on.” The mage said. “Even though your quills act like foci for your other magic –which is electric manipulation, a form not unlike the dragons’ fire magic-, even your response to that threat proves your species aren’t fighters. The electric stuff, that’s for when you’re backed into a corner, we’ll show you the manuals.”

“Wait, I heard you say that Storm King guy took over like half the world!”

“That he did.” Derek nodded. “But he was more than a simple Hedgefog. See, your species is keenly aware of their fearful nature. So they sought a solution, and through magic they created a warrior subspecies.”

“We call them Legionnaires.” Armiger added.

“The Storm King was the first, an albino version made more powerful. Compared to you, they’re bigger, bulky enough to rival minotaurs, but they don’t have magic, save for the Storm King.”

Considering Hedgefogs were about as big as Diamond Dogs (though less muscular), that made for quite the difference in Marta’s imagination.

“That got out of control didn’t it?” Marta deadpanned.

“Less than a month after he had his army completed. They had gone overboard trying to counterbalance their innate skittishness and made them all far too aggressive. They immediately shed their defensive role, subjugated their creators, took control of the nomadic airship fleets in the hinterland and moved on towards Abyssinia. That marked the beginning of a dark time for the entire planet, something Hedgefogs are still paying reparations for. The surviving Legionnaires all got life sentences, as did the research board that created them.” Derek recited in a practiced manner.

Marta crossed her arms and bit back a snort.

“I just learned about my newfound species and I’m already thinking they’re a bunch of morons.”

“No argument there.” Derek shrugged.

Author's Notes:

Not much going on in this chapter, just laying down some worldbuilding on species from Equus' southern hemisphere and setting up the scene for future expeditions.

As for these 'hedgefogs', they're a bit of a peculiarity. There is seemingly little connection in the movie between the King, his soldiers and Grubber. The latter is the one that gave me the idea about the 'hedgehog, hedgefolk' thing.

To me at least it seems Grubber would be the one more representative of his species (or young ones at least, pretty sure he's a kid). Actual hedgefolk are thus significantly smaller than the 'legionnaires' from the movie, and their magic is more in line with the Storm Creature name the Equestrians in the Northern Hemisphere gave them.

Still slowly trying to put something together for centaurs and gargoyles. Their depiction in comics as having close ties and a shared court in the government (King Vorak being married to a gargoyle) makes me think of a complex system involving numerous allied nations. A powerhouse, but brittle.

Probably something along the lines of Austria-Hungary. That could be interesting. I'll see.

Last thing is, giving the gargoyles magic instead of the centaurs (power-wise, they're sort of a cross between Earth Ponies and Minotaurs) makes what Tirek became even more of an abomination.