The return of the expedition from Gothenburg… caused quite a fuss, obviously. While accusations were being thrown around left and right between Schmitt, Valentyn, Sidereal and the Captains; Vadim had flown over to Rhine’s clinic as soon as the APC’s got back to Copenhagen.

Turns out, Carlos had inhaled enough toxic gas for his throat to start swelling up. The Filipino was now bedridden, sedated and intubated. He was still a bit catatonic from all the stuff that went on in Sweden, though thankfully Danny had quickly shown up to comfort him. The female golden parakeet was now by his bedside, holding his uninjured claw and whispering comforting words in Tagalog.

Amandine’s electrician however, wasn’t his biggest worry at the time. He wasn’t at risk of dying.

Yancy was.

“How bad?” Vadim asked, the griffon walking over to where the injured parrot had been laid down.

“Real bad.” Camille scowled. “Chemical burns all over the inside of his lungs. His oxygen saturation just keeps decreasing, and the burns outside don’t help.”

“Anything we can do?”

“’fraid not.” The French hippogriff shook her head sadly. “I can inject some of our health potions directly inside his chest cavity, but there's just too much chemicals in the lungs. Almost enough to cause an edema, as if the chemical burns weren't enough. Anything the potions heal, is immediately undone. Scans even show the chemicals in the lungs have started digging through the pleura and are now affecting other organs. It’s grim Vadim.”

“Give him more potions? Maybe we can push through you know... keep healing him until the chems are expended.”

“We only have the first-aid variant. If we give him too much of the stuff it’s just going to sap what little strength he has left. Plus, we don't have that much potions to begin with.”

The Ukrainian griffon peered over the edge of the bed to look at the blue and gold macaw under the sheets. He was unconscious now; the lack of oxygen had made him faint rather quickly. A glance at his vitals showed they had steadily plummeted over the last couple hours.

“You think he’s in pain?”

“He is.” She nodded sombrely. “Was rather. Doubt he can feel much of anything now. Now… Vad’, at this point I’m certain the lack of oxygen’s caused brain damage.”

They were looking at a dying parrot, and there wasn’t anything they could do to save him. Not without healthcare-grade health potions, the damage to his lungs and chest cavity was just too great.

To make things worse, he had several fractures from his fall, extensive chemical burns in any area of skin that had been exposed to the gas, and also dozens of glass shards imbedded all over. That hydra hadn’t even needed to use its fangs to deliver a killing blow. Gravity and the gas had been enough.

Nothing they could do for him at this point...

Half an hour later, Yancy’s heart finally ceased beating. They didn’t try to reanimate him. Camille and Vadim were sullen as they draped a sheet over the body.

That day, Yancy Harrison, Ordinary Seaman aged 26 from Manilla, passed away. The first one to die in the fleet since the Event.

The news of his death echoed like a ripple through the crews. Up to this day, they were aware they could get hurt. But to die? That was new. A grim, sobering novelty that rattled them all to the core.

Despite all the blame that was thrown around after their return, nobody actually got punished for it. There were survivors at some point in Gothenburg; Sidereal just couldn’t have expected the bait-and-switch that was pulled on them, likely by the Four Horses.

Could Vadim or Camille be held accountable? Not really. The lung damage would have been too extensive even with a fully-staffed burn unit. They may have been able to fix him had they had some healthcare-grade potions in store, but they had just planted the seeds for the first batch of components. Even with Asha now tending the hydroponics, it would take some time for the plants to reach maturity.

Schmitt and Valentyn? Not really responsible either, they were Engineers, not professional CBRN-trained soldiers. They had no reason to expect the ambush, and little training on how to properly react. What Dilip and Raimund did instead, was gathering to discuss the implications of the ambush.

“They’re onto us.” Raimund stated, the pink mare leaning back in her seat with a scowl on her muzzle.

They had moved on to her office, with both Dilip and Sidereal sitting in front of her desk.

“Doubt it.” Sidereal shook her head. “It was a magical decoy.”

“So?”

“The decoy was clearly made to lure in someone using mage sight. No survivor, regardless of skill, could possibly learn that kind of spell on their own in such a short time.”

“So they were aiming for the relief teams.” Dilip concluded.

“Correct.” She nodded. “I don’t know how other countries did it, but in Equestria there was an advertisement campaign calling for volunteers, ponies that knew how to use mage sight.”

“If it’s a public campaign then that explains how they’d know about this.” Raimund said. “Then the Four Horses are actively targeting your teams.”

“And I don’t think a regular relief team would have escaped as well as we did.”

“Someone died Doctor.” Raimund ground out.

“I know!” The red mare raised her voice in protest. “I’m just saying: had it been a fully Equestrian team, I don’t think any expeditionist would have gotten away.”

“Fine.” Raimund sniffed. “I take it you’ll have to send your superiors a report?”

Sidereal nodded. If her team had been targeted, then the entire relief effort was at risk. The sooner she sent her message, the better.

They also had to arrange… funerary services for Yancy. The rest of the Filipinos in the fleet demanded he get a proper lamay, a wake. And a burial too, of course. The matter was both complicated and sensitive, something Raimund would much rather not be doing. In all of her career, this was the first time a sailor actually died under her service.

As unpleasant as it was, she had to do her job. Yancy didn’t deserve to die, and she had to do everything in her power so that none of her sailors joined him in the afterlife. She gathered After-Action-Reports from all Sailors and Officers involved in the expedition to Gothenburg, then summed it all up in one semi-official report with all data available.

The next day, she narrowed down the location of the Philippines’ embassy in Copenhagen and had one of her Officers drive her there to drop off the file, along with a Death Certificate. The building wasn’t even that far from the terminal, just a ten minutes drive away in one of their Defenders.

The embassy was just a small building with green masonry and prominent windows situated inside an office district with wide streets and several other embassies. A tattered flag flew on a pole next to a monument in front of the embassy. A pretty decent building, even considering the local standards and the fact it had been abandoned for a while.

Honestly, the green masonry paired rather well with the overgrown vegetation all around.

It was only after she dropped off the Death Certificate on the ambassador’s desk (for what it was worth, there would be a recording of Yancy’s death in official hands, if anybody/pony ever returned) that a stray thought crossed the mare’s mind.

Extraterritoriality.

Up until then they’d all been arguing over where exactly they should bury their fallen shipmate. Now, Raimund was aware not all embassies benefitted from having extraterritoriality but… true or not this was about as close they could get to burying him in home soil short of sailing to Manilla. Close enough.

Glancing out the window she could take a look at the back garden. A small patch of native ground, granted, but big enough to fit a few tombs.

Guess that settled it then…

While preparations were ongoing for the burial, there were also a couple things that alleviated the dark mood that blanketed the entire fleet.

Asha for one, found herself rather enjoying her new ‘department’.

The hydroponics containers had been installed transversely at the very bottom of Rhine’s container bay, its insides now accessible via lift or stairs using the three passageways they had made for that specific purpose: amidships, port and starboard, each passageway’s structure supported by the same cell guides they used to keep the containers in place.

A neon-lit interior greeted her as the lift stopped at the bottom level, half a dozen meters below the waterline. Floor gratings above and below her showed hints of the dimly-lit utility tunnels and tank tops, easily removable in case they needed to access something for a quick fix, be it the vacuum pumps in the bilges or the numerous connections that ran overhead, connecting the containerized compartments to Rhine’s electric and water grids.

That being said, useful as they were for mechanical issues, gratings really weren’t comfortable against the impala centaur’s bare hooves. They just might need to design some kind of safety shoe that could fit hooved species, especially for cloven hooves. Thankfully Diethelm had already set to do just that with Cheese's help and some salvaged horseshoes.

She trotted over to where her hydroponics had been plugged to the grid. Half a dozen containers in total, each with complete atmospheric control and ventilation.

She breathed in. Yeah, this far down ventilation was primordial lest she and her plants choke on carbon monoxide and other nasty fumes.

Warm, humid air hit her full-blast when she opened the door. In front of her, tall racks with aluminum trays lined either side of the containers, protected behind thin plastic screens. A small LCD display next to the entrance allowed her to adjust the atmospheric and lighting settings however she needed at the press of a button. The dim lighting, the aluminum trays and racks, and the bright white PVC tubes that ran all over the place; all those elements combined to give the grow rooms an ultramodern feel.

She had already set the LED grow lights to low intensity, just bright enough for her to see. That would allow the first batch of seeds to sprout before she needed to turn up the lighting. Already, the Congolese centaur could spy a few stems peeking out of the Rockwool blocks the system used to support the plants.

The growth system was a delicate thing, and she had had to read up on it extensively before she understood how it worked. Each of the numerous trays used to hold the plants was connected to a 'feed tank' in which a computer prepared a solution by mixing CO2 bubbles and liquid nutrients in the water. That same solution in the tank was then pumped through a manifold to each and every plant by a drip system which slowly fed them all the nutrients they needed.

Any overflow would then trickle though the Rockwool, back down to the bottom of the trays, where it would be collected and sent back to the initial feed tank for recycling and re-injection on the next feed cycle.

Asha had already found ways to organize the whole system, including ways to monitor the growth of the alien plants the Equestrians had given them. She stopped by a rack near the end of the container. That was her ‘evaluation rack’. She had planted a few tomatoes and beans there, to serve as a reference point so she could evaluate exactly how much impact her centaur magic had on the plants’ growth.

There were other plants growing as well. A few vegetables for the galley (so they could have something fresh for a change), some basic ‘Earth’ plants like mint (mostly for tea) and coriander, and even a few mushrooms in a darker part of the container. A couple of those 'common' plants were even ingredients for potions that just happened to be found on Earth as well as on Equus.

Then came the Equestrian plants. The magic stuff for their potions. Delicate, sensitive plants that needed particular care and for which Pulp Orange had gone to great lengths to explain her how to take care of them: Heart’s Desire, Magenta Bloom, Zap Orchid and even some Somnambular Bloom from Saddle Arabia for anything sleep-related or fast-acting sedatives.

Asha had also planted a few seeds of a plant that was a bit more… potent, to put it mildly. Poison Joke as Pulp had called it, a sort of blue orchid that required particular care when manipulated. She had put them in a few out-of-the-way trays so nobody would run into them by accident, adding a few plastic sheets to separate them from the rest along with a note saying: ‘Poisonous plant, highly toxic, DO NOT TOUCH WITHOUT PPE’.

The thing was, Poison Joke is useful despite the obvious hazards. Highly so. Its high magic capacity and transformative abilities made it very useful in healthcare-grade health potions, among other things.

The centauress eventually reached the end of the hydroponics, past all the holding racks and trays and pumps. There, she had spared a bit of room behind a couple Plexiglas windows to fashion herself an ‘office’ of sorts.

Well, it was hardly a proper office. More like a separated desk so she could do her paperwork without leaving the hydroponics and manage her stores. If she went any deeper she would wind up in the ‘storage’ part of the hydroponics, where she had left all the seed boxes and parts she needed to operate the place. As for her desk, it was really just that: a desk.

As a centaur, she didn’t need a chair. A desk with adjustable height was that much better for her. It came with a desktop computer and a few waterproofed folders she used to plan out her work, and to keep a record of sensor data. She could also program the day/night cycle and feeding times for her plants from there.

Which is about what she started working on right then. She set her impala half down on its belly in front of the desk and booted up her computer.

In passing, she paused for a second to stare at her ruby red hand. Now, she knew she shouldn’t really complain as far as transformation went –she definitely was better off than Seb-, but it was still unsettling to see red whenever she looked at herself, instead of the usual charcoal black skin she had grown up with.

Which was nothing when put next to the fact her ass was technically a meter or two behind her now. She turned back to stroke the fur on her flank. She was oddly dark for an impala, with near-black fur on her back and a lighter shade of dark brown on her belly and on the stubby tail that covered her genitals (which she really needed to spare time to make clothes for, even if it was just a dress sheet). These dark tones made for a sharp contrast with the ruby red skin and white frizzy hair on her humanoid half.

The transformation had moved her boobs from her chest to between her hind legs, for some reason. That’s right folks: female centaurs may be flat-chested (not even a nipple for that matter), but they do have teats like ponies. Combined with the fact that she was red, that she only had four fingers per hand and that her ears were more akin to that of ponies (large and mobile, on the sides of her head)… Well, her humanoid half looked human, but it definitely wasn’t.

Griffons and hippogriffs may be weird chimeras, but she was pretty sure centaurs were at the top when it came to bizarre ergonomics.

Asha spent the better part of an hour reviewing all trays, looking for seeds that had failed to sprout (there were none) and reading through some books Pulp Orange had left her. Truth to be told, she found the atmosphere around her desk rather comfy. It was easy to get lost reading her manuals in the humid atmosphere, with the whirring of the pumps and the ventilation in the background indicating the ship was still running.

“So that’s how it looks from the inside.” A new voice eventually burst through the white noise.

Sebastien’s voice actually. The male-turned-mare was now mostly recovered from her injuries, as evidenced by her presence down here. The short unicorn emerged through the plastic sheets
Asha used to keep the humid air somewhat contained, throwing interested looks around as she ventured inside.

“Ah… Seb.” She momentarily tore her eyes away from her manuals. “How are you doing?” She awkwardly said.

“Better, thanks.” The red mare with a spiky blue mane nodded. “Give it a few days and I should be back to full health.”

“So…?” Asha quirked her head.

“Just had a question for you. The burial, you’re attending?”

Asha’s ears sagged. Yancy’s death… She had left a few words in the book at the wake.

“I am. Why?”

“Carla and I, we’re working together to get some ‘proper’ clothes. Something we can wear to the burial that’s not our usual coveralls.”

Like the child-size set of resized coveralls the mare was wearing. The usual white sets may be good enough for regular work, but the oil stains barred them from any formal use.

“So we’re working on our dress blues. You want in? I know you centaurs have a hard time with clothes but maybe we can help. For the humanoid half at least, and maybe a white or navy dress sheet for your other half, if you want.”

Asha thought about it for a second before nodding shyly at the shorter unicorn.

“That’d be great. How can I help?”

“So here’s the thing: Carla can sew but he’s got his duties, and I still can’t leave the ship ‘cause you know…” She brushed a hoof over her still-sutured flank. “… Injuries. Still on light duty. I heard Nikolaos and Amandine’s DJ were going out on town for clothes. Could you maybe go with them? Not really for the clothes themselves, but we need a lot of thread and navy material, like cotton. Or anything that wouldn’t be out of place on dress blues. Think you can do that?”

She could.

The next day marked the rather uneventful return of Sirocco. There weren’t many effusions or even sailors around to witness the return of the airship; few were in the mood for that.

They went to Narvik, did their job, and then they got back. No fuss about that. The few problems that arose, were when Alejandro caught wind of what had happened in his absence.

Of course, they also spared some time to review Derek’s observations on the convergence point, though that was mostly something that Dilip and Sidereal bothered with. Raimund really wasn’t in the mood for that. Sidereal proved particularly interested in the differences between human and Equestrian magic, namely the fact convergence points seemingly were tied to human activity. The fact their previous hypothesis of magic disappearing appeared correct was also a good thing, in her eyes at least.

They also decided to allow some less ‘useful’ expeditions to be scheduled in downtown Copenhagen, if only to raise spirits in the fleet. One such expedition would be the aptly-named ‘clothing’ expedition.

A few days before Yancy’s burial, Sandra decide to take several sailors out on town to a mall she used to frequent, so they could finally get some proper clothing for the burial and maybe even some casual attire that wouldn’t just be coveralls. Considering that at this point the most original articles of clothing she had seen on Amandine were Dilip’s cargo shorts and Bart’s military sweater, they were all in dire need of an upgrade to their wardrobes.

Sandra also took the opportunity to invite two very specific individuals that required her attention. Those two being Lekan and Nikolaos, respectively the two sailors that had turned into a female Abyssinian and a minotaur cow.

The ‘expedition’ eventually turned up to the mall with two full unimogs. This wasn’t a particularly long drive: the Waterfront Mall was a mere five-minute drive away from the harbor. Its massive windows and bright storefronts stood in sharp contrast against the beige hues of the older buildings around it.

A flock of seagulls noisily scattered when the two trucks finally came to a halt, air brakes hissing before the sailors in the back unlatched the tailgates, freeing a small troupe of sailors clad in white or orange coveralls, nearly all of them armed.

“Alright folks, let’s be careful. Group One, you lot stay outside and secure a perimeter just in case a monster turns up. Group Two, you’re free to go looting to your heart’s content, but please leave some for Group One when we switch role in… about 90 minutes, okay? And remember: we’re here for clothes primarily, no need to come back with a truckload of PS4’s.” Josselin barked. The French unicorn had been tasked with leading the expedition. “Tune your radios to VHF 10, and word of advice…” He scrunched his muzzle. “… avoid the supermarkets. Food’s still rotting in there and it’s full of mice. You don’t wanna smell that.”

There was a short chorus of ‘aye’s!’ before all sailors scattered to the four winds, some to guard the place, others to go do some post-apocalyptic shopping.

Next to the lead unimog, a purple batpony flared her wings before gently landing on the asphalt, a pair of aviators on her muzzle and some headphones protecting her sensitive ears.

“Ah…” She breathed in the sights. “Nothing like a freebie at your favorite mall to get your spirits up amiright?” Sandra smiled.

“So you do know the place.” Nikolaos joined her side, the female minotaur’s weight making a dull 'thud' when she jumped off the 'mog and hit the ground.

The cow made for an impressive tower of muscles as she looked down at the much shorter batpony. It was like looking at a giant, one whose impressive stature would have put most pre-Event male bodybuilders to shame when it came to muscles; and female models when it came to curves and breast volume.

Comparatively, the last member of the trio's form was much more petite. Lekan still had some curves, but she was more on the flat side (and obviously shorter). Height-wise, the feline was at about the halfway mark between Sandra and Nikolaos.

“That I do!” Sandra nodded eagerly. “Came here nearly once a week before it all went to shit.”

She waved her wing, motioning for her two companions to follow her into the shopping gallery. They hesitantly trailed after the tiny pony, a bit wary of the shit-eating grin the mare was sporting (batpony fangs not helping).

Idly, Nikolaos noticed Asha slip past their group and make a beeline for a nearby sewing shop. At least the female centaur (centauress? you're never quite sure with that...) had her priorities straight.

The shopping gallery was pretty standard as far as they usually went: a two-floor layout with glass balconies overlooking the lower gallery and escalators built at regular intervals. They turned on just as the group got close, all thanks to a sailor that had managed to locate the power breakers. Still, the faded colors of the storefronts, the grime on the roof windows, the dust and dead flower beds... this wasn’t a mall in its prime. This was an abandoned mall.

Ripe for looting, much like the rest of town. The only difference being that here, it was more rats and swarms of flies bothering them instead of the usual wild dogs and seagulls.

“So…” Lekan spoke up as she let Sandra lead her through the gallery. “…why did you want to go with us specifically?”

“Seconded.” Nikolaos added. “That’s something I’d want to know as well.”

“You know the burial?” Sandra said over her shoulder. “Everyone needs proper clothing.”

“And?” Nikolaos quirked an eyebrow.

“You two have a problem in common. I think I can help with that.” The batpony’s wings fluttered as she jumped over a bench that was now nearly as tall as she was.

She cast a look around.

Ah, there was her target shop. The mannequins in the storefront were exactly as she remembered them: modern, yet conservative enough to fit most settings. They headed inside.

“I don’t like where this is going…” Lekan faltered, the tip of her tail curling in hesitation.

“Like it or not, if you want to look half-decent you’ll need this.” Sandra said, pointing her hoof at a mannequin wearing a bra.

The bra wasn’t even anything frilly or such: just a plain monochrome model. Still, that was enough for Nikolaos to cross her arms and throw the batpony a nasty glare. Idly, Sandra noted how the minotaur instinctively lowered her head as if she was about to charge.

“So that’s what it was about then? You just wanted to play glorified Barbie with us and mock us in passing for what we’ve become.” She huffed. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you through the roof right now ‘cause that’s about what you deserve, right Lek’?”

The genderbent Liberian didn’t say anything.

“You know you need it right?” Sandra smirked. “I can see it.”

“Fuck off.” Nikolaos scowled, her crossed arms tightening around her chest protectively.

“So what have you been using up until now?” There was a gleam behind her aviators. “Chest bindings?”

The minotaur’s nostrils expanded. Ah, right on the mark. She might as well be talking to a girl that just hit puberty.

“You know it’s not healthy right?” She cocked her head.

The situation seemed pretty clear to Sandra: the minotaur was the one rebuking her offer at the moment. Probably an attempt to protect her former masculinity. As for Lekan… the Abyssinian appeared open to suggestions. Most likely she’d defer to whoever won the altercation.

“Screw your bullshit, I’m leaving.” Nikolaos let out a loud bovine snort before making for the exit, tail lashing from side to side in irritation.

“Infections…” Sandra began.

The cow stopped, one hand on the door. Her ear flicked ever so slightly. She was listening.

“Rashes, swelling, deformities. It’s a known effect you know, plenty of girls tried it before, none got too much good out of it. You could be a lot more comfortable with proper support. Bet you’re short on breath right now, right?”

Nikolaos’s hand dropped to her side.

“You know, worse persons would have told you you’re lucky with your transformation.”

“They’d be wrong.” Nikolaos ground out.

“Damn right they would. I bet you’re hating your body right now?”

The only answer to that was yet another bovine snort. That was all too true. Despite the perks in size and strength, she downright despised the feminine aspects of her post-Event body.

“Listen, whether you like it or not is not what I want to lecture you about. It’s more about health and comfort. Jostling, chafing, you can avoid that with an actual bra and-“

“Fine!” Nikolaos relented, slowly turning around. “But it better not be something frilly!” She huffed.

“It won’t, I promise.” Sandra smiled before motioning towards where she knew sport bras were stocked.

“I swear this better not get out? If Ted gets word of this I’ll never heard the end of this.”

“Ted?” The batpony quirked her head.

“Short for Theodoros, her brother.” Lekan piped in.

“And a proper arsehole.” The minotaur added.

“Am I missing something there? I swear I am, ‘cause I’m certain someone told me there were only two minotaurs in the entire fleet.”

“That’s because he’s a sphinx… somehow.” Nikolaos shrugged. “Don’t ask me the logic behind that. Maybe it's because we're dizygotic twins...”

On that note she moved on to where she could see racks of bras further down the aisle, hooves loudly stomping against the laminate flooring.

“Is it really that bad?” Sandra whispered to Lekan.

“Not really, just two siblings being immature.” The cat replied.

The Liberian would have liked to leave it at that but the look Sandra sported on her muzzle clearly asked for more.

“Alright, the two of them, they’re both barge pilots. I’m on Ted’s team. And they… they have this weird rivalry going on.” The savannah cat clicked her tongue before moving on to take a look at some sport bras.

Contrarily to Nikolaos, she didn’t have so much of a problem with the jostling (thank God for Abyssinians being on the flat side of the spectrum) as she had with the chafing. Still, taking the proper stuff instead of elastic bandages like she was currently wearing might improve her situation.

“So yeah, that was already tense with the rivalry. But now it’s worse. I don’t know which of the two started it. Ted says it’s her because she was on edge from the transformation; Niko blames him for making a shitty joke, go figure. They haven’t talked in weeks.”

“That’s just idiotic. The two of them are lucky enough to come back with family and then they pull that shit?” She sniffed before helping the Abyssinian. “Here, let’s take your measurements first, that should help.”

Sandra could barely suppress a smile as she guided the two genderbent sailors through getting their first bras. Much to Niko and Lekan’s relief, she didn’t pressure them too much as far as that subject was concerned, though that didn’t make it any easier for the two.

To say Niko was embarrassed when the batpony asked her to take off the top of her coveralls and her chest bindings would have been an understatement. The rosy skin at the tip of the cow’s muzzle reddened visibly when Sandra started flicking around her bare chest with a measuring tape. And unlike Lekan, she couldn’t just do with discrete bras to hold her muscular bosom.

Fortunately, she did manage to find sport bras her size, albeit very few of them. For the rest, she would have to settle for simple monochrome stuff. She could live with that, at least they relieved the aches in her back the moment she put one on.

“Better?” Sandra smiled the moment the two of them came out of the changing rooms.

Nikolaos squinted her eyes, but nodded nevertheless. Credit where it’s due, it did work. Lekan didn’t seem quite as bothered as she was, the Abyssinian seemingly settling for putting on her A-cup bra, shoving a few more in a bag, and waiting for her to finish.

The minotaur cow was quick to leave once she had what they were here for, mentioning something about needing to get proper clothes and shirts to modify for the burial. Some sailors had already found a suit tailor on the other end of the mall, so she might as well grab one in passing, she could retrofit it later.

Lekan didn’t follow though.

“You’re not going with her?” Sandra asked offhandedly as she moved on to the child section of the shop.

Probably easier to adapt to her frame, closer to pony-size than adult clothes.

“I… kinda could use your help.”

Sandra momentarily paused from picking out a pair of cotton pants to throw the Abyssinian a curious glance. Lekan rubbed her neck awkwardly for a second before looking directly at the batpony with her slitted hazel eyes.

“You know, cat or not I still rather like swimming.” She muttered. “I thought uh… I could really use something appropriate for that.”

Sandra nodded softly, she may have an idea about that.

A quarter of an hour later, once she had a wardrobe she thought she could reliably retrofit, she guided the Liberian to a sport shop where they got her a one-piece swimsuit she could use adequately. Still nothing too bold, and even then Lekan was quick to bury it at the bottom of her backpack... but Sandra allowed a smile to grace her features once the feline’s tail disappeared around a corner.

Nikolaos was no good, but with a bit of a push she could make a shopping friend out of Lekan.

Two days later, Yancy was finally buried. His friends and compatriots were a bit disappointed he wouldn’t get a proper mass, but unfortunately they didn’t have a catholic priest on hand. Instead, the attendants went to the embassy and erected a small podium they decorated in Yancy's honor with bright blue and yellow ribbons to match the color of his feathers, next to the tomb.

Under a dark, overcast sky and heavy atmosphere, the sailors spent an hour or two trading tales about their former friend and colleague before finally, after a parting prayer, they lowered his coffin in a hole dug one day earlier. Dilip observed the scene from next to the convoy of trucks that had brought the attendants, a somber look on the Diamond Dog’s muzzle.

“Not attending?” Roberto asked, stopping next to him with a cigarette in his mouth.

“I’m not catholic, plus I went to the wake anyway. I’m just waiting for Raimund.” The Captain shook his head sadly. “You?”

“Me? I barely knew him; I just volunteered to drive the trucks. Once they're done it's back to Rhine for a farewell toast.” The Abyssinian said, pointing to the white UN unimog leading the procession, the ribbons decorating it marking the truck as the hearse.

They lapsed into silence for a moment, watching from afar how Raimund took the time to make a small speech they couldn’t really hear. God knew Yancy’s death was an eye-opener to all. Death was a very real risk, particularly with monsters involved.

“Roberto?” Dilip asked, voice low.

“Captain?”

“Opinion on the leadership?”

“Morale’s bad, obviously.” The Italian feline fiddled with his whiskers. “But I don’t think they’re angry. Maybe a bit… pissed off at Schmitt since she led the expedition in the first place, but nothing against you, or even Vadim.”

“Not even Vadim?” The pariah dog quirked an eyebrow at that. That was rather surprising.

“He may be training under Delacroix, but he’s no real Doctor. Can’t expect him to work miracles. But Captain?” The cat’s ear flicked, highlighting his crooked ear from his scar.

“Shoot.” Dilip closed his eyes.

“Results like that on an expedition… they’ll remember it. Anything similar in the future and, well… let’s be frank: you’ll have a hard time finding volunteers.”

“Won’t help with our humanitarian plans.”

Roberto looked back towards Yancy’s tomb. The packed dirt was now covered in ribbons. The skies rumbled above, and he felt a fat drop of rain land on his head.

“That it won’t, Captain.”

The burial marked a… milestone of sorts in the events that went on in Copenhagen. From that point on, there was little to be done. The expeditions were over, the ships, modified, even Rhine now had her fleet of auxiliaries.

What remained was training with the aliens, and even that could only take so long. The flyers were eventually all airborne (including the parrots); they had either scanned or copied all of the documents Sirocco carried about species from Equus; traded information on all sorts of things ranging from agronomy (with Pulp teaching Asha how to take care of the plants in the hydroponics) to personal hygiene (something the Chief Stewards on both ships made sure to hang notes about all over the place).

Even in the field of magic, they had advanced by leaps and bounds. The gargoyles had been taught the basics and were now experimenting in earnest with their newfound abilities, using their magic whenever they could. The unicorns and sphinxes had progressed as well, all of them now understanding the gist of what they needed to do to figure out more spells. Some of the more gifted unicorns had even managed to discover their Cutie-Mark based spells as well.

Obviously, none of them had gotten skilled to the point where they could have used complicated spells like mage sight. That required far more training than could be achieved in such a short time, even with the combined guidance of Sidereal, Cheese and Derek.

Finally, on the 12^th of July, Sidereal declared they were ready. The time had come to move on. Other survivors awaited, likely just as much in need of help as the sailors had first been when they met the ponies.

And this is how, on the morning of their departure, Alejandro once more found himself waking up in Elaena’s cabin, one last time. The hen was fast asleep in his arms, her raspy breath gently ruffling his chest feathers. Smoothly, he let one claw run over her hip and caress the silky down just above her tail. He breathed in; the sweet scent of her perfume was mixed with that of sweat after one long night of sex.

His hips were still aching from the prolonged effort.

Eyes closed, Alejandro let his talons run their course along her curvaceous form, just to burn the memory of his lover deep in his mind. The curve of her hips dipping into a narrow waist before going up to an angular, purely avian ribcage he had grown rather fond of, with its thick fluffy feathers.

“Coping a feel, are you?” Elaena asked in a whisper, eyes still closed.

“What can I say; you’re worth committing to memory.” He replied just as quietly, gently squeezing her ass with a grin.

Sirocco’s Captain nipped at his neck feathers with her beak. Her pink eyes met his amber-colored irises. She winked.

“I could say the same about you…” She commented, one talon tracing a circle on his pecs. “Last night…” She whistled. “You’re a performer, Mendoza.”

“I aim to please.” He rubbed his beak against the side of her head. “And to add to it… I better make the last time worth remembering, right?”

“Last time…” She repeated, ears sagging. Her talon stopped moving and she pressed closer to him. “I’ll miss you.”

“Same, but we knew where this was going from the start.” He told her. “Eh…” With a talon he lifted her beak so he could look her in the eye. “For what it’s worth I never experienced anything quite like it.”

“Neither have I…” She whispered, eyes trailing towards the nightstand where they had dropped a few Polaroid pictures they had taken of themselves.

He and her on Sirocco’s weather deck, arms interlocked.

A picture they had asked Radiant to take at Gunnar’s farm with Alej’ carrying her bridal-style.

A drunken ‘selfie’ as Alejandro had called it, where the Spaniard was half-naked in bed with her posing in her corset, a few bottles of liquor between them.

Actually, she should probably avoid showing the last one to others. Her sister first and foremost.

Unfortunately they had duties waiting for them. Reluctantly, they put their clothes back on and moved to join the others on the docks where a crowd had gathered to bid the aliens goodbye. Dilip barely raised an eyebrow when he saw his First Officer exit out of Sirocco’s rear ramp.

“I must say, I’m glad we had your assistance Doctor Venture.” Dilip set his focus back on Sidereal as he knelt down to shake her hoof.

“And I’m happy we met, Captain. I think we learned nearly as much from your sailors as you learned from us. It’s such a pity we had to move on like that, but other survivors need help as well.”

“Stay safe out there.” Raimund told her. “With the Four Horses…”

“I know. We’ll be careful with the mage sight. No more ambushes.” Sidereal nodded.

Around them, others were also saying goodbye to the aliens they had got to know over the last few weeks. Dilip just had to look around to see it.

Alejandro and Elaena exchanging some parting words near Sirocco’s ramp, the two parrots in a seemingly unbreakable hug.

Pulp and Cheese chatting with Rhine's Cadets, with the Earth Pony giving Asha a small notebook with tips on how to take care of her plants. Angelo was there too, the minotaur wrapping the Earth Pony in a rib-shattering hug much to Cheese’s amusement.

“Where’s Radiant anyway?” The Greek Engineer asked.

He could see Gust talking with Derek and the vets, but the other Pegasus was nowhere to be seen.

“Engine room I think, heating up the boiler.” Pulp shrugged after Angelo dropped him. “Steam engines you know? Needs a Celestia-be-damned long time to get going.”

“Pity.” Angelo sniffed. “Would have liked to have a few words with him. Meh…” He shrugged. “…nothing worth crying about. Give him my goodbyes, would you?”

“I will.” Pulp nodded.

While the entire crowd was busy exchanging some last words and parting hugs, Louis stood at the top of Sirocco’s ramp, a thoughtful look on the cat’s muzzle. In his paw, he held a single piece of parchment, a message received last night he hadn’t told Sidereal about.

The reason being… it had been strictly addressed to non-Equestrian folks like him, and they were not to tell the ponies about it. With good reason.

Still… he glanced at his pocket watch. In a minute or two that wouldn’t matter. Might as well tell the Captains now, just so they could look presentable.

“Excuse me?” The noble coughed politely as he walked over to where Dilip and Raimund were standing.

“Something the matter?” The Diamond Dog cocked his head.

“Not so much of a matter, as a royal visit.” The cat flashed the parchment. “The King and Queen of Abyssinia have expressed their desires towards making a visit. Now.”

“Why are you only telling us now?!” Sidereal abruptly exclaimed, the red mare’s eyes going wide at the prospect of the royals’ imminent arrival.

“Secrecy.” Louis admitted. “They explicitly ordered me not to tell you until just before their arrival.”

“Why?!” Sidereal cried out.

“I think I know.” Dilip smiled, a twinkle appearing in his eyes. “Remember when you said you weren’t told everything about the Event?”

“Of course, my superiors told me they had an operative out there to choose who’d know… oh.” It dawned on her then, and her ears flattened against her head. “Abyssinia’s doing that too?”

“Apparently we are.” Louis confirmed. “If it helps, I just got the message yesterday.”

The two Captains only had a minute to quickly arrange the crowd in neat rows and make themselves presentable (though the Indian could do little about the fact he’d be meeting royals while wearing cargo shorts) before the first sign of their arrival.

Louis calmly laid down the parchment in front of Sirocco’s ramp. There was a summoning circle on the back, though that version appeared different from the usual. Smaller, with simpler sigils. Soon as the Abyssinian dropped it, it lit up with a bright white glow as the parchment caught fire. A wide summoning circle appeared midair after a minute, this one not burning itself into the ground.

Two silhouettes slowly coalesced into existence, both of them feline in appearance. The King materialized first, a full head taller than his wife.

He sported a jet-black coat of fur, brushed and cleaned until it shone softly like a well-polished onyx stone. On his frame was his regalia: a wide gold chest plate with an embedded ruby, to which a pair of bright red pauldrons were attached, themselves used to hold an imperial purple cloak with a flared neck that went down to his ankles.

Of course his regalia wasn’t just the chest plate: the King also wore some red brassards with gold trim, a large crown decorated with a huge ruby, and a wide belt that held his velvety purple loincloth. All expensive materials that demonstrated ludicrous amounts of wealth while still putting his black fur on display: belly, legs and arms, all were bare and in full view.

The King looked at them through green, benevolent eyes as he appeared with his elbow interlocked with the Queen’s, her looks nearly identical to his except for her yellow eyes, smaller frame, and the elegant purple dress she was wearing under her regalia.

As soon as they materialized, Louis dropped to one knee, bowing deeply at the sight of his monarchs. Dilip imitated him a second later, with Raimund just bowing her head, the German having no idea how quadrupeds were supposed to go about it.

“Rise Sir Armiger, this is merely an astral projection.” The King’s voice echoed, a gentle yet powerful sound.

“Your Majesty, it’s an honor.” The Abyssinian slowly stood up, paws behind his back in proper form. “If I may ask… to what do we owe your presence today?”

“Presence would be an exaggeration, Sir Armiger. Security concerns have forced us to adjust plans. What should have been an actual visit became a mere simple projection.” The King said.

“In spite of this, we are delighted to finally see those survivors for ourselves. We have much to tell, yet little time to do so.” The Queen added, her eyes surveying the crowd and the docks around them with an appreciative look.

“Your Majesties, while I certainly appreciate the honor, I fail to understand how a group of merchant sailors like us deserves the attention of royals like you.” Dilip inquired.

The royal felines in question cast a side glance towards Sidereal before focusing back on the Indian in front of them.

“There are many players influencing what’s currently happening to your planet, Captain. On Equus, we have long formed a microcosm of immortals to keep the peace. Us, King Aspen, Queen Novo and more, all there to defend the planet. You have no such thing, yet threats that caused us all trouble in the past are now encroaching upon your realm.” The King said.

He paused to look at the skies above for a moment.

“Me and my wife…” His grip on the smaller feline by his side tightened. “… I know we aren’t the most powerful of immortals the microcosm can offer. That being said, we Abyssinians were always good at perceiving things others missed.”

“You can thank our prescience and empathy for that.” The Queen explained with a smile.

“Indeed.” The King nodded before his eyes lit up with magical light. “And that is exactly what we wish to leave you: intelligence. Your group has the advantage of worldwide mobility, something I doubt many survivors can boast about. Anything we tell you, you will be able to share with survivors you come across. Beware however: as accurate as our prescience can be, it tends to be... nebulous, at times. So here it is…

Only the Equestrian Crown fully knows what happened, but they have an actor on Earth, directly chosen by Princess Luna herself to pass down the answers. In the near future, seek out Alexandria and its Archive; that is where you will find what happened to your planet. That is where their Chosen will reside.

Yet the Archive isn’t the only thing Equestria left on this planet. I know not when nor where, but their agents will leave a… a Fragment of Harmony, a shard, on your planet. In time, this will help you create your own microcosm and defend the planet.

As for the Demons… Charybdis and Scylla may be siblings, but do not mistake them for allies. Much like siblings, their rivalry is petty and they will not tread on each other’s territory. That is something you must exploit to your advantage. Also…” The King paused, casting a brief look towards Elaena and Sidereal. “You were not their target. They do not care for survivors. For now. What they are doing at the moment, is cementing their presence, anchoring themselves. You have time, years maybe before they move to conquer the planet, but do not waste it.”

“But the attack-“ Schmitt tried to interject.

“That hydra was not aimed at you specifically, young drake.” The King raised a paw in a placating gesture. “The Demons know we from Equus are intervening. The ambush is but a sign they will try to bait and attack relief teams in the future, but it is not something directly aimed at survivors.”

“Thank you your Majesty.” Dilip opined, committing the Archive of Alexandria to memory.

Guess they'd be going to Egypt eventually. But a Fragment of Harmony? What did he mean by that? Wasn’t it just the chief ideology/religion among ponies? Or was it more than just that?

“That being said…” The Queen raised a paw to add something. “Before we cut this short, there is one more thing you need to know: Equus and Earth are drifting apart. There will come a point where relief teams will have to be called back and travel between both planets will no longer be possible. After that, assisting new returnees will be entirely up to survivors.”

Raimund blinked. That she didn’t expect. She just thought that they’d leave at some point when they had told enough survivors, not that they’d actually be unable to travel to Earth.

That might explain why the Demons had been so eager to come here.

With their message told, the two monarchs wished them good luck in their future voyages before departing, their silhouettes disappearing the moment they cancelled the astral projection. That was the cue for the Equestrians and Sirocco’s crew to leave as well. They assembled next to the ramp, giving the sailors one last wave before climbing aboard.

Alejandro watched Sirocco rise up in the sky before the airship sped away, towards Germany and Central Europe. The hyacinth macaw felt a pang in his chest, he’d miss Sirocco’s Captain. Once the airship disappeared over the horizon, he reached inside his pocket, grabbing a thin paper folder Elaena had told him to open once she was gone.

There were photos of them together. He looked at them one after another with a fond smile on his beak. That smile however, disappeared once he caught sight of the last thing in the folder.

In his talons was holding a used condom package. The same brand he had used with Sirocco’s Captain.

And there was a very distinct hole in the plastic packaging.

“You sneaky bitch…” He whispered, shaking his head ruefully.

The sailors left Copenhagen the next morning. They had spent most of the night preparing the charts, double-checking all their gear and the lashings that kept their cargo secure. At last, when dawn came, Raimund gave the order to recall the teams that kept the perimeter secure.

The fleet was leaving.

After well over a month spent in Denmark, they were finally leaving. Amandine and Rhine Forest blasted their horns in chorus as the mooring lines were lifted back on board by teams of sphinxes and unicorns. Slowly, with a rumble of their engines, the two seagoing behemoths pulled away from their berths and turned around in the fairway.

“Be advised: all radar antennas are now active. Flyers must remain grounded until further notice or prior approval on VHF 16. Out.” Dilip called over the radio as they passed the sea fort where they had killed Sonata, its lighthouse now nothing but a pile of rubble.

“Well, they can fly.” Alej’ commented. “It’s just a really bad idea.”

“Yeah, I doubt anyone feels like getting sterilized by radar waves.” Vadim quipped from his position in the navigator’s seat. “Right on track by the way, give us an hour and we’ll switch to transit detail.”

And then it would only be a matter of sailing north back to the Skagerrak before they could alter course west towards their actual destination.

America.

Finally they’d make their delivery to the HPI, all the way in Savannah.

Meanwhile in the engine room, Angelo was busily striding towards the desalination plant, intent on inspecting a few sensors that had been oscillating weirdly that day. Without looking, he opened a nearby closet to grab a multimeter when his fingers met something warm and fuzzy.

The minotaur’s head snapped towards the closet so fast he heard his neck crack over the noise of the engine room.

Hidden in the closet and smiling sheepishly, was Radiant. The Equestrian Pegasus gave him a meek wave with his grey-furred hoof.

“The fuck are you doing here you idiot?!”

Author's Notes:

He did it when he was just a blank-flank colt in Cloudsdale, and here he does it again... with consequences he has yet to fully realise.

Ponies, surprisingly impulsive at times, eh?

Guess that concludes Copenhagen. Frankly at first I thought I'd have that arc done a lot faster but I felt I had to keep them busy while they were modifying Rhine, and that I had to justify all the stuff they salvaged and the abilities they gained by displaying it in scenes.

Yeah, I suck at time skips.

I'm planning to update the ship data sheets in my blog so the crew lists match reality. Might even take the time to update my racial spreadsheets and finally get around to doing sheets for deer and reindeer. Changelings though... I don't intend to broach that topic anytime soon. Too much trouble with the skewed pattern, feeding possibilities and the reformed/unreformed thing. They really are a mess, in the PaP-verse at least.