Way north in Norway, Sirocco was reaching the end of her voyage.

The Lofoten peninsula had finally appeared through the windows of the cockpit, its massive shape unmistakable. Roughly twelve miles across and going as far as ninety miles out at sea, its bedrock ridgeline was hard to miss for even the most nearsighted of sailors.

Prior to the Event, the area had been a particularly popular touristic spot, thanks in no small part to the landscape. Tall mountains seemed to rise out of the sea and wrap around a myriad of small bays and rocky beaches, sheltering them from the worst weather formations coming from the nearby arctic.

This ‘shelter effect’ resulted in a pretty mild climate for the latitude that allowed vegetation far more lush than should have been possible to paint the lower half of the mountainsides with shades of green. It might have also been the reason why that area of Norway had been part of human history for millennia. Traces of civilization going as far back as five thousand years had been found in the area, and even before the Event it had remained popular as a fishing haven.

Not that Alejandro knew any of that. He was far more familiar with the recent history surrounding the area and its industry.

Which, in all respects, told a lot about its strategic importance.

He was aware of the 1.3 billion oil barrels the Norse government had refused to exploit in the area. Frankly, it was only now that he got a good look at its raw beauty he fully understood why they chose to prohibit extraction.

The second important aspect was something which had made the entire fjord a point of strategic importance back during the Second World War. See, the fjord they were supposed to follow to Narvik, the Ofotfjord, it was ice-free. All year long, despite being well inside the Arctic Circle.

For one it meant that back in WW2, the Germans had occupied Norway and started using Narvik as a staging ground to prevent the Soviet fleets in Murmansk from accessing the North Sea. The multiple inlets and mountains inside the fjord also provided excellent protection from assaults, both from the air or from surface vessels. Nazi capital ships the likes of Tirpitz wound up hunkering down there at regular intervals during the war.

For second, its ice-free status made it an important shipping port to access Scandinavian resources, the most notable of all being iron ore extracted from Lapland. Trains laden with ore came all the way from Kiruna’s mines to Narvik’s mineral terminal, to the point where the amount of ore ferried through there numbered in the millions of tons per year.

Fjords are no mere inlets too. They run deep. Ofotfjord was some 250 meters at its deepest, and their charts told them that even the ore terminals offered more than twenty meters of depth. There were very few ore carriers in the world that even needed that much water and those that did reach the limit could still carry loads close to 300.000 tons.

That much he could tell Elaena.

“Well, when you compare that to Sirocco’s payload I’m starting to feel inadequate.” She chuckled while flicking some switches on the controls for the gas bladders. “I mean, I usually make do with the sixteen tons of net payload but I wouldn’t complain being able to load that much.”

“How much do airships carry anyway? Pure cargo airships that is, not express ships like Sirocco.”

“At their biggest? I’d say just over a hundred tons. Still not much, so aviators typically go for precious cargoes.”

“Not iron ore then.” Alejandro concluded as he peered over her shoulder through the windows of the cockpit.

He could see the mountains –some covered in snow- close in around them as their altitude decreased. They were still a fair distance away from Narvik, but they could already notice hints they were nearing civilization.

The typical Scandinavian houses, with their wooden walls painted a vivid red. He remembered someone telling him in an anecdote that the color was red not because for style but because the anti-weathering paint contained high amounts of iron oxide.

“Well, iron ore certainly not.” Elaena continued, shutting down the altitude control once they were about two hundred meters up. “But Diamond Dogs use airships to transport precious metals and gems back from their more remote mines and settlements. They still need big airships to do that, and even then they’d rather use trains to do it.”

“Why don’t they then?”

“Tough luck with that. I said ‘remote’ and I mean it. Had to carry a group of engineers up to one of these mines one day and I can tell you: there is not a single train in your world or mine that could climb those slopes.” She paused to make sure they were still flying in the center of the fjord. “Diamond Dogs are damn good miners you know, so you usually find them where the ore and gems are. That, unfortunately, rarely coincides with places you can easily access.”

“Hard to see them as such considering the only dogs I know are sailors.”

“True, but that doesn’t change what they’re capable of. Prateek may not be a miner –actually he’s as far removed from one as you can possibly be-, but I’ve seen plenty of dogs working in the mining industry. These pups outdo any other creatures at the job, they do the surveying better, they dig better, and they do it safer. Heck, they have mining advisors going around the entire planet inspecting mines and helping increase safety standards.”

“That good?”

“Expensive as some are, it’s widely accepted that implementing their advice and hiring a forepup or two for your mine will cut down the death toll by 80 percent and double productivity. Frankly I think that’s for the better.”

Really, it was. Equus as a planet had dozens of sentient species inhabiting it, each fundamentally different from the others and fitting particular niches. Those niches were exactly what prevented massive scale wars, or one species outgrowing all the others.

Each of them had their specialty, meaning that there was always one species that would be better suited for a particular task. Agriculture? Earth Ponies and Centaurs. Magic? Unicorns and Gargoyles. Weather control? Pegasi, or griffons, to an extent.

In some cases the niche was a bit different. Hedgefogs for instance. They were not particularly better suited than any race at anything, but the niche they filled was in adapting to the subcontinent they came from.

“Kinda sounds like you’re boned if you want to be something that doesn’t fit your species. You know, ‘cause then there will be a couple other species better suited for it.”

“Nah, not really. You just have to train harder if you really wanna do it. Or you’ve got protectionist regulations too. There is always a little bit of ebb and flow with that on Equus. One country opens its market to foreign labor and goods for a generation or two before the pendulum swings the other way. It rarely goes too far because most nations are still made up of only one species as the majority –Abyssinia and Ornithia being exceptions to the rule of course, and even that could change in the future-.”

Of course it could change. Abyssinia may still be a very safe place, but there was an underlying tension on the political side of things that meant the cats could very well change their mind on the imported workforce in the future.

And if they did, it wouldn’t even be anything new. It had happened in the past, and it would happen again in the future. The King and Queen would enact measures that disadvantaged the foreign workers, and then they’d just move on to greener pastures. Klugetown maybe, or the Infernal lands.

“Sounds a bit cynical if you ask me.” Alejandro told her.

“I’d rather call it ‘objectively detached’. I certainly don’t like that system. It’s callous and unfeeling. It doesn’t care for those that have to move on with the flow. Far too often, creatures are preyed on as they seek for opportunities, or they wind up abandoned on the side of the road, unable to keep up and stuck in foreign places.”

That and she’d far too often witnessed passengers tell her how they longed for stability. You couldn’t settle with mobile workforces like that. In most cases that wasn’t really a problem. Youngsters would ‘work with the flow’ in their younger years before heading back to the homeland with their earnings and settle for a more comfortable –if less profitable- lifestyle.

Those that could that is. Some never managed to spare enough for that kind of luxury.

Narvik eventually appeared in sight, near the end of the fjord. It had been built in an area where the slopes of the surrounding mountains flattened enough to allow for stable foundations, the entire town a red and white blotch making a stark contrast against the green forestry in its direct vicinity. The grid-planned streets, along with the general square and utilitarian appearance of the buildings made it clear everything there had been built in recent times (by European standards) to fulfill the town’s chief industry. Its terminal.

The ore terminal itself certainly was hard to miss, a huge red mass near the shore with its abandoned conveyor belts and damaged warehouses connecting the piers to the extensive rail yard that snaked its way through town before disappearing in the mountains. Left unattended, all the heavy machinery had run rampant and continued working for a while despite the disappearance of all ships and trains. Piles of ore and overturned hopper cars laid all over the place in what would have been enough damage to close the terminal for weeks prior to the Event.

Now that might as well be forever.

Of course overtime the town had grown to be more than a workers’ village built around the terminal. Colleges, museums, and even a touristic industry had joined the fray, as was testified by the multiple cables cars that connected the town to a nearby ski resort.

Not that any of those were relevant at the moment, doubly so for the ski resort. Sure the weather was a bit chilly, but it was July, snow wouldn’t reach the town for a couple months. It was present, but only high up the mountains, far above Narvik.

Elaena brought Sirocco down in an industrial area near the docks, the double-ballooned airship touching down, her landing claws making a loud ‘clang!’ when they hit the concrete. A few moments later, the props stopped spinning when Radiant shut down the engines.

Around them were several warehouses and workshops, most made out of corrugated steel and whitewashed cinder blocks. Weather and storms had clearly swooped in at some point since the Event because many of the windows were broken, shards littering the weed-riddled concrete between so many fallen cranes and abandoned machinery.

It was at about that moment that Derek poked his head through the cockpit’s hatch.

“Eh there you two, the boss is asking whether you two already got a plan figured out.”

“Tell him we’re staying downtown a few hours, just a matter of refilling the water tank and maybe see if we can salvage a few batteries.”

“Batteries? We’re low on voltage already?” The gargoyle asked in alarm.

“Nah, but we’ll be flying ‘round the mountains. Lots of altitude adjustments in perspective, so I’d rather be on the safe side.” Elaena explained as she was detaching herself from the pilot’s seat.

One after another, the three of them squeezed through Sirocco’s neck back down to the common room where they were greeted to the sight of Louis examining a chart of the city and the surrounding region on the dining table.

“Everything in order?” The noble asked detachedly, eyes not leaving the chart.

“As good as it gets.” Elaena replied, though she didn’t join him at the table and stayed halfway through the doorframe. “We’re near the port, I’d assume finding what we need won’t be too much trouble.”

“And our main objective? Need I remind you we didn’t come here just to enjoy the sights?”

Well, most of all the expedition had been approved just so they’d avoid revealing the aliens’ existence to the HPI. That however, was something not even Alejandro was privy to.

“You don’t.” Alejandro frowned. “And I think I know how to go about it. Like it or not but Elaena and me just pulled twelve hours of navigation in short shifts. If we want to fly into the mountains safely, we’ll need to catch some rest.”

“And of course you found something to keep us busy in the meantime Chief.” Mikhail guessed.

The purple dragon was sitting cross-legged in the lounge section of the common room with a random book in his lap. In all honesty, Alejandro didn’t know much about the Ukrainian, save for the fact his past military experience was what justified his presence here as ‘guard’.

Eh, he seemed professional enough to make it work.

“Naturally.” The hyacinth macaw nodded. “Derek, we need you to cast mage sight and start scanning for the exact location of the convergence point. We had a vague idea it’s around here, but now that we’re on site we need something accurate.”

Radiant chose that moment to join them, the Pegasus just coming back from the engine room with his black mane sticking to his head from the sheer heat of the boiler.

“Ah, how is the engine room?” Elaena jumped in.

“A-OK. Nice engines by the way. The props are uncoupled and the burner is off. Judging by the pressure in the system we got a couple hours before it cools down completely, just in case you’d want a quick start.”

“Excellent, let’s hope it stays that way.” She rasped out before motioning for Alejandro to continue.

“As I was saying, Derek needs to find the convergence point’s exact location. While he does that and I get my beauty sleep, Mikhail, you think you can hotwire a truck and top off our water? And the batteries too, we need extras in the holds. Truck batteries should do.”

“Anything for me?” Radiant asked.

“Keep watch or help Mikhail, either works.” The Spaniard shrugged. “If there are any monsters in town, then they’ve seen us for sure.”

Not that it should be any trouble, with two breech-loaders, the .50 cal or even the M203 Mikhail had equipped on his C7.

“Well, with that we’ll make sure to wake you up by nightfall.” Armiger smiled.

“We’re in the Land of the Midnight Sun, Louis. If there is any nightfall, it won’t be ‘til next month.” He chuckled before walking back towards Elaena’s cabin.

Tired as he was, he didn’t think either of them was in the mood for a romp in the hay.

More than seven hundred miles south of Narvik, things were moving ahead as well back in Copenhagen. In the few days that had followed the planning phase for all the expeditions they were chartering around the region, Amadi had already managed to locate and bring back several of the boats Gerig had approved for retrieval.

A pair of cargo hovercrafts was the first to join their fleet of auxiliaries, soon to be followed by no less than four stern trawlers.

“Amadi.” Raimund asked, the unicorn walking closer to the edge of the quays to get a better look at the new additions.

“Aye ma’am?” The centaur politely replied as he took position a few ways behind her.

“The hovercrafts, where did you get them?”

The question was actually rhetoric. She just had to take a look at the two things they were currently lifting on board of Rhine to know where they came from.

The Tre Kronor roundel painted on each of the propeller nozzles at the rear of the hovercrafts was pretty obvious.

“Sweden ma’am. Got them from an army base near Helsingborg. There were three of them there; so we salvaged the third one for part before bringing them. Parts are inside their holds.”

And they were no small things. Amadi had managed to find the one class of hovercraft that just fit the length criteria of what could fit in the barges’ holding cells at 20 meters.

Aside from the engines and propellers, the design appeared rather simple, if powerful. Their cockpits on the front were offset to portside to leave room for the bow ramp which allowed access to the cargo bay in which there was enough room to fit several dozen passengers, as well as a container or a couple cars, depending on the mission.

The rest was rather simple. A couple antennas and one navigational radar on top of the cockpit, some life rafts near the cargo bay’s escape hatches, and the Swedish Army’s version of woodland camo for paintjob.

They weren’t armed though.

“But how do we load them?” She wondered. The bow ramp was neat, but they definitely couldn’t load cargo that way while the hovercrafts were stowed on board.

“They have hatch covers on the roof.” Amadi pointed out. “We used them to load the parts, didn’t even need a crane to open them.”

“Good, good. Now, what can you tell me about the trawlers?” The filly switched subject, turning her attention towards the four boats that were still waiting to be loaded.

Not that much actually. The four white stern trawlers Amadi had picked all came from the same yard. They had been retrieved by a team in Odense, the town where Maersk used to build their ships. They were also twenty-meters long, like the hovercrafts, but only half as wide and with a flat bottom that made it rather easy to stow them in Rhine’s barge cells.

From a design viewpoint, they looked fairly modern too. A tumblehome hull with inverted bow to better withstand poor sea conditions was helped by retractable stabilizing fins on either side. They had all the instruments needed to set out at sea, and the range to have a use for it, something Raimund very much intended to put to use at some point.

Using them for missions other than simple fishing wasn’t too much of a stretch either, as Amadi later ensured her they could house up to seven sailors on a voyage, and that their fish holds had room for forty tons of fish.

No deck space for containers though. Then again, she’d have been surprised to see trawlers that size load up TEU’s.

“So that’s only the interceptors left.” She stated.

“We should have them in a day or two. I might have to request more sailors on the expedition though I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

“It’s not only about the boats with the interceptors. We need to get ammo for them, and they can’t carry it all. I think I’ll need to dispatch a lorry or two to get enough missiles and torpedoes to last us a while. But ma’am?”

“You sound worried.”

“Not worried, just… not very confident. It’s all very complicated tech these weapons.”

“It’s just like with the tank on Amandine Amadi, we’ll spare the time to train on how to use them. You just have to play your part, we’ll be proficient with this tech in due time. Finish your expeditions, and then the others will pick it up while you catch some rest. You look like you need it.” Raimund told him, not even needing to glance over her shoulder to picture the bags under the centaur’s eyes.

Seriously, there was a weird tendency to crunch on her ship and she didn’t even know how it came about. Even the Cadets seemed prone to do it, something her Third Officer had written her a memo about.

Not that there weren’t occasions where it was justified –she was damn well aware of that-, but that was for when they were on a tight schedule or when the safety of the ship was threatened. Not for expeditions like that.

On the other end of the docks, Sidereal was reaching an anxiety bursting point, with only Pulp’s presence by her side helping alleviate the sickening pressure in her head and stomach.

The day had come for the departure of the expedition to Gothenburg. They had spent the last couple days preparing for what would await them there. The gas. She had had to go through some extensive training just so she could use what the sailors had called a ‘chemsuit’.

Dilip really didn’t want to take any chances with the expedition, a fact which was only heightened by Alejandro’s confirmation that Gothenburg was still contaminated.

And here she was now, sitting in the back of a Piranha APC whilst Schmitt worked her way through a checklist. They had given her a hazmat suit, a completely airtight set they had managed to retrofit for use by quadrupeds, with its own air supply.

The downside was, most quadrupeds on Amandine were bigger than ponies. Griffons, hippogriffs, sphinxes, all were much bigger than her small unicorn frame. She had been forced to wrap duct tape around the limbs just so the thick rubbery material would be tight enough.

On her back she could also feel the unmistakable weight of her SCBA’s air tank, once again something the sailors had gone through great lengths to retrofit. They had been very clear to her that she was to only put on the mask and close her suit once they were on site.

Drawback of the air tank: it only contained thirty minutes of air. For a human, they had no idea how long a pony would last.

And here she was, already strapped down in her seat, marinating in a sweaty hazmat suit, a quivering wreck thanks in no small part to the numerous pictures they had shown of what might happen to her if she came in direct contact with the deadly gas.

That was completely different from just the monsters, them she could fight, she could shield against, she could…

“We’ll be fine Doc.” Pulp reassured her, the larger Earth Pony stallion throwing a hoof over her shoulder in comfort. “These guys know what they’re doing, and we won’t even have to leave this uh… APC, until you actually find the survivors.”

“I know…” She muttered. “It’s just that feeling I got when we were training with the suits. It’s so oppressive, like I can’t breathe properly and I’m always one gasp away from choking.”

“That’s normal Doc. Everypony feels that way as they said, and it’s fine. Just keep an eye on the manometer and fall back to the Piranha once it starts whistling, ok?” He tightened his grip around her shoulder. “You can take on a tatzlwurm, a little bit of gas can’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah… yeah, right.” She breathed out. “Thanks.” She smiled.

“It’s nothing. You’re claustrophobic, right?”

“How did you guess?” She jerked her head.

“I got a similar feeling wearing the suit in training.” The stallion shrugged. “Not too bad for me, but I get the feeling. Eh, phobias are a thing, nothing to be ashamed of. I run away from spiders myself.”

“A big stallion like you?” She chuckled.

“Like an elephant seeing mice.” He smiled. “Now Doc, can I count on you with this? I mean, I bucking hope I can, ‘cause I can’t really close my suit and open my air tank with my hooves.”

“Eh… don’t worry, I will.” Sidereal nodded firmly, her resolve reaffirmed.

By then Schmitt was nearing the end of her checklist. The orange dragon was wearing a hazmat suit as well, not really willing to try if her draconic lungs could manage with industrial-grade amounts of gas in the air. Just like them, she was wearing it half-open to catch some fresh air while she still could. She ran hot already, no need to enclose herself in a dank type one suit if she could help it.

She was talking to another Engineer from Rhine Forest that would take command of the second Piranha to depart on the expedition. A red kite griffon by the name of Valentyn.

At least he didn’t have to use duct tape to tighten his hazmat suit. Tough luck on using his wings though…

The gunner’s hatch opened and a unicorn stallion let himself fall down in the seat. Bart, he would be their gunner on the expedition… and the go-to expert on the Piranhas, being the only one with actual experience using them.

In total there were ten of them going on the expedition. Most would be there to man the Piranhas and ensure all crew seats were filled: gunner, driver and commander. Then they had two ‘passengers’ per APC, leaving them with plenty of seats for possible rescuees.

She and Pulp had been assigned to the lead APC. There were two more in the other APC, but the only one of the two she could actually remember was Vadim, filling the role of the expedition’s medic.

“You two ready?” Schmitt asked all of a sudden.

Sidereal turned in surprise, blinking owlishly at the female dragon that was now peering through the open ramp with one hand on her hip.

“Doc?” The dragon tilted her head, blue eyes staring at her in concern.

She shook off her confusion and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry. We’re ready, yes.”

The dragon stared for a second, tempted to ask her what was wrong but Pulp quickly flashed her a look. He had it under control. She decided to leave it be and squeezed inside the crew bay, quickly pressing the ramp controls and moving deeper inside to go sit in the commander’s seat.

Sidereal kept looking at the ramp, watching its armored plate rise slowly. Amandine’s car deck faded from view, leaving her and Pulp inside of the cramped, dimly lit crew bay.

She huddled a bit closer to the stallion.

After a few exchanged words on the radio and Schmitt barking some orders at Carlos –the parrot filling the role of driver-, the Piranha lurched forward with a rumble of its engine. For all the difference that it made, they didn’t see anything of the terminal as they left, they didn’t see the streets of Copenhagen, they just… vaguely felt the turns as they left, stuck inside with no windows.

“We’ve barely left and I already hate this thing.” The mare grumbled.

“Yeah, military vehicles… niet made for comfort.” Bart butted in.

The sky blue unicorn stallion had turned away from his seat to keep an eye on the passengers.

He had one of the good seats, facing forward and with a hatch to get air and see where they were going.

“Are they all like that?” Pulp genuinely inquired.

“Enkel those with good protection… mostly.” He shrugged. “Take my seat if you want, but I need it back in Gothenburg.”

That solution proved more tolerable for the claustrophobic mare, her built-up tension finally letting up the moment she poked her head through the open hatch to see the Swedish countryside run past.

The two eight-wheeled APC’s then took a turn onto a highway headed north, a huge sign by the side of the intersection showing them in bold the three hundred kilometers that separated them from the contaminated city.

In the Piranhas’ defense, they could drive at 100km/h, so it wouldn’t take that long.

Resupplying most of Sirocco’s needs didn’t even take them too long.

They had to thank Narvik’s industrial nature for that: the wealth of workshops and warehouses near the docks still hadn’t been looted… meaning they were also the only survivors in town. Mikhail only needed an hour or two before he and Radiant came back with a hotwired truck filled with two dozen truck batteries and a couple cubic meters of fresh water.

And they had made an extra stop on the way, as evidenced by the map Radiant held proudly between his primaries when the two of them came back.

“I didn’t understand most of what they had in the tourism office, but it looked like they did get Equestrian-speaking visitors around here.”

“English.” Mikhail corrected.

“English, right.” He shrugged with his wings before turning towards Derek and Louis. The two of them were hunched over a nautical chart of the area, with lines drawn all over it from the gargoyle’s attempts at locating the convergence point. “I found a map of ancient sites around the area.” He added, laying it on the table for all to see.

That made it a lot easier. Derek only had to cross-reference his lines of bearing pointing at the convergence point with the map of ancient sites before they got an actual fix on its location, at the tip of a small inlet south of the main fjord, less than a dozen kilometers away from the town.

A few hours later, they woke up the two parrots in Elaena’s cabin and Sirocco once more took off, keeping to a low altitude so they could easily observe their surroundings.

With the exception of the parrots in the cockpit, the rest of the crew kept to the weather deck on Sirocco’s back as they flew ever closer to their goal. Armiger stood confidently towards the front of the airship, a brass spyglass held in his paws.

Whereas the main fjord had been some five kilometers across near Narvik, it shrank down to a couple hundred meters near the particular inlet they were aiming for, forcing Elaena to slow Sirocco down to a crawl.

Steep verdant slopes bordered on either side of them, the vegetation quickly fading away the further up they got before finally trading place with the ever-present snow that covered the summits. Norway may not be deathly cold this time of the year, but that didn’t make it a tropical paradise.

Going inside the fjord, they found themselves flying over a bridge at its mouth, scattering a herd of roe deer that had been tentatively nosing at the foreign structure. Up in the air, they saw a large flock of dark-feathered birds fly a few circles high above them before turning away and disappearing behind a mountain.

“Rocs.” Armiger simply stated as he kept an eye on them through his spyglass.

“What? These were monsters?” Mikhail jerked.

“More like pests.” The feline sneered. “They pose little harm to airships like Sirocco but they frequently attack isolated creatures in mountain ranges all over Equus.”

“You sure?” The purple dragon didn’t sound too convinced.

“Positive. They’re a particular kind of bird. Did you see their wing feathers?”

“Looked like they had fairly large primaries.”

“Because their wings are slates. Their wing and back feathers at least.” The feline explained as he folded his spyglass. “That makes them extremely sturdy, and when it’s combined with their natural impact resistance… well, let’s say they’re dangerous for a reason.”

“Any advice?” The Ukrainian asked.

“Stick to groups.” Derek joined the conversation. “Rocs suck at attacking groups, even in flocks. They have this nasty habit of folding their wings when they dive to protect themselves from attacks and charge at their prey. So they rely on blunt trauma to incapacitate you, before they can finish you off using their talons.”

“So you can’t shoot them when they dive at you?”

“Unless you land a headshot, then no.” Derek told him. “Make them commit to the dive then dodge, the impact on the ground won’t stun them but you should be able to get a stab at their belly once they’re on the ground.”

“And don’t stand near cliffs either. They’re mountain birds, they can and they will toss you off if you give them the chance.” Louis added.

Mikhail looked off the direction the flock had left to, their image still vivid in his mind. The birds didn’t appear that big. Maybe as big as condors, then again he was no expert.

“They don’t look like they could do that.”

“Yet they can.” Derek crossed his arms. “They’re strong enough to pick up a healthy Earth Pony, don’t underestimate them.”

He didn’t argue.

Sirocco carried on her way, her crew now keeping their eyes open for any flock of slate-feathered birds that may attempt an attack. Fortunately, it seemed like the birds deemed the airship too dangerous to assault because they didn’t show up again.

There was a thin road going parallel to the slopes, showing them once more how quickly infrastructure could decay after the Event. A landslide had collapsed it at some point, leaving behind a massive amount of churned dirt and broken trees from which bits of nearby electric poles still poked.

A lone farmstead stood at the end of the fjord, with its red-painted buildings arrayed in a small circle around the courtyard where a flagpole stood, proudly displaying the Norwegian colors. It had been built a little distance away from the shore itself, with a narrow dirt track connecting it to a small jetty where they spotted a capsized speedboat rusting away amidst the piles of seaweed that had washed up on shore.

Most of the terrain in the direct vicinity around the farm was occupied by meadows where, oddly enough, the cattle had decided to stay. Cows and sheep merrily grazed away, lazily looking at them as Sirocco landed next to the farm.

Mikhail scowled at the cattle the moment he made his way off the ramp, rifle at the ready.

“You look worried.” Derek asked, right behind him.

“We’re not alone.”

“What makes you think that way?”

“Look at their trough…” The dragon pointed a claw towards the clustered cattle. “It’s full, and I don’t think it rained around here recently.”

And they got their answer soon enough when Radiant went to explore the farm. The Pegasus landed in the middle of the courtyard, kicking up a cloud of dirt when his hooves hit the ground. The farm looked too well tended-to for a place that hadn’t been occupied for a while. Clean windows, watered flowers, and a lazy sheepdog that lifted its head to look at him before letting out a yawn and going back to its nap, still chained to the flagpole.

There was a noise behind him.

“Hva er du?”

Radiant quickly turned on his hooves. There was a small equine standing in the barn’s entrance- No, not an equine, a reindeer.

”Hva gjør du på mitt land?” He repeated, slowly advancing towards Radiant.

The grey Pegasus reflexively took a step back and fluffed up his wings. Reindeers were a rarity in Equestria, their presence almost the matter of legend what with how little they mingled with other species. Their tribes lived further into the arctic wilderness than even the Crystal Empire, where no other creature could possibly dwell with their ease.

And here was one such creature, his brows furrowed at him for intruding on his farmland. He was about as big as a unicorn –the shortest of the three pony tribes- with a thick mottled beige fur. He had an icy blue mane on top of his head, to go with pearl white antlers that matched the color of his cloven hooves.

Most interesting of all was the flannel shirt he had covering his front half and the eerie glow he had surrounding his antlers, not unlike that of a unicorn.

Which might go a long way to explain the farming fork floating midair between them.

“I mean no harm!” Radiant cried out.

The suspicious look on the reindeer lessened somewhat, though he kept the fork pointed at Radiant’s throat.

“You. Tourist?”

“You speak Equestrian?” Radiant repeated.

“We all learn in school here.” He lifted up the fork so Radiant wouldn’t forget about it. “What do you do here?”

“What do I- I mean, I’m here to explore the area!” Radiant quickly said. “I’m no thief! I swear!”

The reindeer snorted and Radiant was relieved to see him rotate the fork and quickly jab its teeth in the dirt.

“You hiker.” He stated. The flying pony wouldn’t be the first tourist to accidentally wind up on his lands, they often did that when hiking up and down the mountains, and he’d had to call quite a few taxis from town to come pick up exhausted groups in the past.

“No! I mean... sort of, I guess? I’m with the airship...” He jabbed a hoof back towards where the farmer could just see the top of Sirocco’s balloons and her mast above the farm. “We’re looking for the convergence point.”

Going by the look he got from the farmer, he didn’t really understand that last part. Instead, he turned his focus towards the visitors.

“How many?” He grunted.

“There are six of us. What’s your name?”

“Jeg er Gunnar Haugen.” The reindeer curtly said before motioning with his head towards where they had landed the airship. “Come, you show me to friends. We talk.”

And talk they did. Louis was delighted to meet the cloven creature, the noble never having had the opportunity of visiting their territories on Equus, and Gunnar –gruff as he may sound- actually was rather relieved to find a sentient creature to talk to. They invited him to share a cup of coffee with them inside Sirocco’s common room, and soon, Gunnar began reciting them his tale.

Turns out, the collapse of the road and the sinking of the only speedboat at the jetty meant the farm was completely cut off from the world. Gunnar had been stuck there for at least a week since his reappearance, a week he had spent quickly adjusting to his new form and protecting his cattle from the rocs.

Which is how he figured out reindeer had access to a range of powers not too dissimilar to unicorns. He had had plenty of opportunities hurling farming implements at the pesky birds, something Radiant counted himself lucky not to have been on the receiving end of.

They told him the gist of what happened. The Event, how long it would take for people to return, they even told him about the incursion of monsters and the demons he’d have to be on the lookout for. To say he was disappointed to hear he might be alone for a while would have been an understatement, but he vehemently refused their offers of bringing him back to Copenhagen.

This was his home, and unlike them sailors, packing up and leaving wasn’t part of his way of life. His parents had lived here, and their parents, and so on for longer than he cared to remember.

What he did agree to was for them to drop him off in Narvik. He needed to replace his speedboat with a sailboat and salvage quite a lot of stuff, because there would be no fixing the road anytime soon. Alejandro also took the opportunity of giving him their satellite phone number –as well as Sandra’s broadcast frequencies- so he could tell them if he ever changed his mind.

But they had to move on to what they were here for at some point, and thus Alejandro found himself asking Gunnar if he had seen anything out of place (well, out-er of place) in the area.

“The forest.” Gunnar simply said before pointing a clover hoof at a porthole. “Rock carvings, older than Viking times, strange... stuff happens. Sitka –my dog-, he’s afraid.”

It was slightly further up the slopes, beyond the meadows around the farmstead, beyond the few vegetable patches growing even further. There was a thick row of bushes marking the separation between farm and forest, with only a small dirt path and a mountain brook connecting the two. Going by the height of the ferns and nettles bordering the path, Gunnar wasn’t much of a forester.

But even then they didn’t need Derek to tell them this was the place. They could feel the thrumming of energy just out of range, behind the trees.

“The rock carvings are old.” Gunnar went on. “Here near the farm, it’s the oldest. Beginning of sacred path.”

“A sacred path?”

“Yes.” The reindeer nodded. “Carved through the cliffs, goes up to top of mountain. Archaeologists came from Oslo to check it, they say the higher you go, the closer you get to Viking age.”

And this settled it, as soon as they were ready, they would escort Derek up that sacred path and finally figure out something about the convergence point.

“By the way, did you know you’re not actually stuck?” Louis added. “Reindeers can fly.”

Gunnar then introduced them to the darker aspects of Norse vernacular.

Meanwhile in Sweden, the two Piranhas had finally reached Gothenburg.

And, just like they had been told, most of the city was covered in a thick yellowish/orange miasma. They stopped their APC’s side by side on top of a hill overlooking the city, with all the team squeezing out of the hatches to have one last briefing on top of their vehicles.

They’d need to. Specific measures had to be taken with the Piranhas. They may be protected against CBRN contamination, but that would only last as long as they kept all openings secure. The moment they stepped out, the interior would be contaminated.

This meant two things: one, none of them could take off their suit when they came back after getting out. They’d have to hook themselves to the air manifold inside their respective vehicles and rely on the APC’s air filtration system.

Second thing was that they’d probably be forced to stop once they escaped the miasma just so Bart could use the decontamination kit. It was either that, or stay hooked on artificial air for the three-hour trip back to Copenhagen.

“Doc, think you can start narrowing down their location?” Schmitt immediately asked as soon as Sidereal joined her on top of their Piranha.

“Of course.” The mare nodded before she lit up her horn with a mage sight spell.

And they quickly got a new line of bearing pointing them towards the CBD. With a bit of luck the survivors would be hiding somewhere in one of the skyscrapers that managed to be high enough to keep their higher floors above the gas.

“Wait a minute.” A feminine voice interrupted them.

It belonged to the sole female Abyssinian in the entire fleet. Lekan, formerly a Liberian male assigned as a rating in Rhine’s barge department.

Female Abyssinians were an oddity of sorts, at least when compared to minotaur cows and female gargoyles. They didn’t have the amazon-esque curves and massive bosoms of the minotaurs, nor the matronly appearance of gargoyles.

Instead, as evidenced by Lekan’s appearance, they were rather on the flat side in the breast department, even when compared to humans. They were just as tall as the males of their species, with a much lighter frame, narrow shoulders and soft curves that made it easy to spot their gender despite their (relatively) flat chests.

If their general appearance wasn’t enough of a tell (because of concealing clothing, like the chemsuit Lekan was wearing), they also had a longer tail and bigger ears than males.

As for Lekan, she had turned into a breed called a savannah cat. Some kind of tame version of a serval with tawny fur, black spots all over and rounded ear tips.

And right now she was sitting cross-legged on top of her own Piranha (she being Valentyn’s gunner).

“So if we’re contaminated as soon as we open the ramp, how can we even evacuate the survivors?”

“Teleportation.” Sidereal replied matter-of-factly. “I can’t get them all the way back to Copenhagen but at least I can take them to a safe spot outside the city.”

“Can’t you just... teleport in from here?”

“I need to find them first. I don’t do blind teleports.”

And it seemed simple enough. Dive in the gas, lead Sidereal to the survivors, then leave once she got them all to safety. Most of their worries would go towards keeping an eye on the limited air supply they had in their air tanks.

With as little as thirty minutes for each of them, they could not afford any mistake.

They all climbed back inside the APC’s –much to Sidereal’s displeasure- and, with a rumble of their engines, the two vehicles descended into town.

In the lead Piranha, Carlos watched his already limited field of vision shrink down to almost nothing once they hit the gas cloud, the miasma shortening how far he could see to a pitiful distance.

“Yo I can’t see shit here.” The cockatoo complained with a trill as he looked through his periscope. “Gunner, you see anything on thermal?”

“Better, but not much.” Bart grumbled. The thermal optics on the .50cal could pierce a bit of the haze, but that bit wasn’t much better.

Heat signatures was something it could spot with little trouble. Cold-on-cold detection though? It was made to target vehicles and infantry at night and behind smoke grenades, not the corners of a building in a gas cloud thick enough to make the Bhopal gas tragedy look mild.

Carlos was forced to slow down to a snail’s pace if he wanted to keep himself from plowing straight through a storefront.

The damage caused by the contamination was even more evident from up-close. They had no idea what mixture of gas was in the air, but they might be able to make assumptions just by seeing how all of the vegetations had withered away.

Grass had turned black; trees had their wood become so weak they collapsed under their own weight, the remains so brittle they disintegrated into fine particles when Carlos pushed through them. All that damage was even more noticeable because of how many parks and trees city planners had spared room for. All for naught, thanks to an abandoned chemical industry running amok without anyone to manage it.

Even things like the sun shades on storefronts and curtains had disappeared, which wasn’t even saying anything about the puddles that had formed here and there across the road. They made sure not to drive through them, just out of caution.

Still, Gothenburg wouldn’t have been too much of an eyesore before the Event. The streets didn’t hold a candle to Copenhagen, but there were countless other towns that wished they could look half as nice. Winding streets, some wide, some narrow led them through a scenery where 19^th century stone buildings seamlessly shared the streets with modern creations made out of glass and concrete, a mixture echoed by the roads themselves where strips of asphalt ran parallel to pavement and tramway rails.

Sidereal’s guidance eventually led them to what appeared to be the tallest building in town, a conference centre. At more than twenty floors tall, its red-and-white facades towered above the rest of the cityscape, easily high enough to avoid the gas if the survivors had found refuge around the lookout deck built at its top.

Schmitt had the Piranhas stop just short of the ultramodern building, close to the quays where they could just about spot a marina through the miasma, most of the ships there having drifted from their moorings when the gas gnawed at the fiber of their mooring lines. Some were fine, their fenders having done the job of protecting them from collisions. Others were less lucky, now lying halfway sunk in the water with their masts entangled with the others’.

“This the place Doc?” The orange dragon asked, already getting her SCBA and chemsuit ready.

“Yeah…” The unicorn mage’s eyes were shining from her mage sight. She was looking at the top of the skyscraper as if the Piranha’s hull wasn’t even there to block the view. “I can feel it, large energy spike on the top floors.”

“Alright then!” Schmitt nodded firmly before finally securing her mask to her muzzle. “Get ready folks, ‘cause we’re going in.” She told everyone, voice now muffled by her mask.

Inside the crew bay, Sidereal steeled her nerves while she was helping Pulp get ready. The Earth Pony may not be able to carry a weapon, but his sheer strength might actually be as helpful as that of a minotaur.

That and she wouldn’t have gone if she was the only Equestrian on the expedition, no offense to the ‘Terrans’.

“Remember, we got thirty minutes so don’t waste your time. No looking around the lobby or anything, go for the stairs and get to those survivors ASAP. Gunners, stay down here and keep the engines running. Gotta be on the lookout for monsters.”

And they didn’t waste time. As soon as everyone was ready and the gunners were hooked to the air manifolds, Schmitt gave the order of opening their tanks.

Their mismatched group of bipeds and quadrupeds immediately rushed towards the lobby, all sailors with their guns at the ready. All clad in bulky yellow chemsuits that hissed and whistled whenever they took a breath out of their SCBA’s.

Pavlos was there to take the lead, with Schmitt and Vadim in tow. They led them to a staircase and the climb began.

It was about that time they started cursing modern architecture and non-intuitive design. Twenty stories were already high enough to run up in the limited time they had –particularly when laden with gear and breathing through a SCBA-, so having to look for where the next staircase was didn’t improve the situation.

“C’mon!” Pavlos urged them on, the gargoyle quickly waving his arm at the next row of stairs down an office-filled hallway. “Hurry up you lot! All the air you waste now is air you won’t have to get down! Only ten more floors and we’re above the gas cloud!”

To their credit, they did push themselves to their limits to get there in time. Pavlos’ constant words of encouragement made them able to reach the ‘fresh’ levels after only using a third of their air supply. Still, they waited before they were at least two floors above the gas cloud before closing their air valves and taking off their masks.

Sidereal in particular let herself fall down on her belly with a groan.

“I’m an academic for Faust’s sake. We’re made for lifting books and reading… That stuff here…” She panted. “I’d rather leave it to the specialists.”

They took a short pause to allow everyone to catch their breath before Schmitt and Pavlos eventually forced them to stand up. The survivors were probably waiting for them.

And so the dragon quickly arranged her chemsuit to make herself presentable. She adjusted the strap on her rifle before confidently striding up the stairs to what she assumed to be the lookout deck.

She opened the door, already expecting to see a crowd of relieved survivors of whatever species Swedes could turn into…

… Only for all those hopes to be immediately quashed. Because the carpet was stained red.

All around the lookout deck, what must have been less than a dozen bodies lay dead, their bodies still warm and the carpet still wet from the blood. She stumbled inside, falling down on her knees at the sight of… reindeers, griffons, hedgefogs, even a lone teen dragon, all dead.

And on a coffee table, near a broken window, laid a pulsating gem.

“A decoy…” Sidereal fell down on her haunches next to Schmitt, a haggard look on her muzzle at the sight of the bodies. “We got tricked… by a BUCKING DECOY! A DECOY!” She repeated, stomping a hoof against the bloodstained carpet.

Pulp went to approach the mare to offer comfort but he stopped when he caught a gleam reflecting the sunlight. He turned his head. There it was. A cloaked equine looking at them through a spyglass. He was on another rooftop.

The equine noticed him because he threw him a smirk and pointed a hoof a couple stories below them before quickly disappearing in a flash.

“Was that…” Pulp started only to be stopped when the entire building shook.

They heard glass breaking outside and Schmitt immediately rushed over to a window to see what was going on.

A giant four-headed reptile was slowly climbing up the tower’s side, using three of its heads to grip the façade, with the last one throwing the dragon a predatory look with its toxic green eyes.

It roared at her, wisps of gas seeping out of its mouth.

This wasn’t a rescue… this was an ambush.

Author's Notes:

SCBA's... you know, some say every sailor is a firefighter. They're not wrong, but you won't catch me saying a sailor is anywhere near a match for an actual fireman -though I've seen many sailors convert to firefighting to get a shoreside job, even Navy guys becoming airfield firemen with the Air Faorce in some cases-. It's a secondary function, because last I checked firetrucks didn't float.

Personally I don't suffer from the claustrophobia/perceived asphyxia thing, not unless it's some seriously intense action like they do at training facilities. _{Seriously, who thinks hauling a fire hose up five floors is a good attack plan?}

Also, word of advice: if you can, keep that kind of training for the winter, or buy a six-pack of water beforehand.

The technical thought of the day.

By rule of thumb I typically count a full air tank to last 30 minutes. Now, that for humans, and I know that time would hardly be enough to climb up and down a skyscraper with fire hoses.

Now we ain't dealin' with hoomans no mo'. Typically, Equestrian species are smaller, so I really wonder how long they should last on a regular tank. In this case, I deemed they had enough air with them considering they only had guns and the hazmat suits with them.

On a side note: I made a blog post with Rhine's data sheets. There is a gallery in there with pics and data on the auxiliaries too.