In Belfast, the entire fleet had finally managed to moor in as close proximity to the shipyard as could be achieved. On Rhine, Raimund had been quick to dispatch one of their trawlers as soon as the barge carrier was tied up alongside the quays. Not to go fishing, but to deploy a wide net in the water so that no sea monster could possibly reach the ships and the yard.

After the incident with Sonata Dusk, they were in no mood to let a monster sneak up on them via the water to attack their sailors unchallenged. The net was an idea from Rhine’s Chief Engineer: by fitting it with a couple simple alarms, they would be alerted if any of the floats on the net was pulled under the surface by, say, a monster ramming into it.

While the trawler got busy securing the water side of the quays, Alejandro had already gone ahead and dispatched a team to secure a perimeter ashore. Amandine’s starboard side ramp (unfortunately, they wouldn’t be able to use the stern ramp in Belfast. There were quays that could have allowed it, but they were all too far away from the repair yard) opened with a loud groan of its motors before a small Defender rolled out.

“Recce team to Amandine. Mission is now underway. Over.” Aleksei called over the radio, the hippogriff tasked with exploring the docks like she did when they first moored in Copenhagen.

“Roger that. Don’t go to town yet. We only need a perimeter around the ships for now. Over.” Alejandro replied.

“Wilco. Recce team… Out.” Aleksei concluded before the radio quieted down.

Alejandro gazed out the bridge windows, the parrot quickly spotting the little 4x4 disappear behind a warehouse. Normally it shouldn’t take too long: he had made sure the ships would be moored within the limits of the repair yard, so unless the security fence was damaged it shouldn’t pose trouble. Patrolling it would be easy too, both because they could deploy flyers on patrol now, and because the yard had wide open spaces between the few warehouses and buildings. Paired with the fact they likely would commandeer the CCTV cameras from the office building, and he doubted they’d need to assign too many sailors to guard duty.

Good, that meant more sailors on repair duty.

“Alejandro?” Dilip’s voice rang out behind him.

“Hmm?” The parrot turned his head, one ear tilted up inquisitively.

“We’re going to need your expertise.”

“Yeah, dry-docking. I figured. That’s why I was hired after all.” The hyacinth macaw nodded. “Schmitt’s already busy with some docking software I gave her. Matter of figuring out the position of the support blocks we’re gonna rest the ship on while still keeping the bow clear for repairs.” He shrugged as he went through the process of shutting down the navigation instruments.

No sense keeping the ECDIS and the Radar on when in port. The only thing that would stay powered up on the bridge would be their radio station, and even then they had Sandra keeping an eye on the frequencies a couple decks below.

“About Fugro…” Dilip trailed off.

“They got the…” Alej’ clicked his beak. “The biology briefing yet? You know, flight lessons, magic and personal hygiene?”

“Gave the task to Rahul and Ivan. Think you can go with them and plan out their docking process?”

“Sure, I’ll bring the software. No promise I’ll do it in one evening though, it’s not like it’s a simple process.”

“I want them to be fixed first.”

Alejandro did a double-take at that.

“What, really? They’re not even part of the uh… fleet yet.”

“’cause you think they won’t join?” Dilip deadpanned.

“Nah, they will.” He paused. “Just surprised you’d put them up first for repairs.”

“Amandine can still move. They can’t. Simple matter of priorities Alej’.”

Alejandro threw Dilip a look for a second before mutely shaking his head and grabbing a piece of paper from a nearby printer. Turning around, he twirled a pencil in his claws.

“Well, I will go to our new returnees and help them with planning the docking, but there’s more than that we’ll need to do.” He explained, already starting a list.

First off, they’d need Roberto to dig through their intel to locate places where they might find parts. Shipbuilding steel should be little trouble, but they’d also need to find parts to fix their bow thrusters, as well as the pumps and tanks that had been damaged by the impact. And their echosounder too. Damn thing would need a new transducer.

He paused. After a second he scratched the ‘echosounder’ on the list and replaced it with ‘sonar’. Might as well upgrade the bloody thing while they were at it, just so they could spot sea monsters.

Step two: get the graving dock operational. He hadn’t seen any wind turbines when they entered port, so he’d have to assume Belfast’s grid ran on fossil fuel. Hence… they’d have to (temporarily) restart Kilroot’s power station.

Which would give them power for the graving dock. Essentially, the dock had two integral components: the caisson, and the pumps. The former acted as a meters-thick gate to separate the dock from the harbor, the latter emptied the basin. Both needed the pumphouse to function, which they’d obviously need to restart as well.

Then they’d need to find a way to run Samson and Goliath. The two gigantic cranes would be needed to carry the steel plates and parts needed to fix both ships.

Not too much trouble on his part, he suspected they ran on electricity, which brought them back to Kilroot.

“Do we even have a crane operator in the fleet?” Dilip asked.

“Not that I know of, Captain.” Alej’ shook his head. “Gonna need to train one on the fly. Fugro’s got deck cranes, so I suggest asking them if they have any crewmembers with similar training. Saves us from training someone from scratch.”

Dilip threw a glance at the list over Alej’s shoulder before he moved off to the starboard bridge wing, paws behind his back. Below them, Belfast’s docklands extended, with wide roads made out of prefab concrete slabs, industrial plots separated by brick walls topped with barbed wire and countless warehouses that looked old enough to have been built in early 20^th century. Bricks and tacky windows included, with corrugated roofs that likely still contained asbestos if he were to hazard a guess.

With the rainy weather and low luminosity, the place was… well, it was dreary.

Which matched his mood. The more Amandine’s Captain looked into it, the more it looked like they’d go from arriving weeks early in Savannah, to having to explain to the HPI why they’d have to expect their prototypes a week late. At best.

Dilip sighed. At least he didn’t have to tell Eko until he had an actual ETA.

Unlike Amandine’s Captain, Rockhoof couldn’t find a reason to complain. The castle he and Meadowbrook had commandeered as their new home had everything the couple needed, and if their Earth Pony influence was anything like in Equestria, then they’d have plenty of fresh food in short time.

With a heave, the enormous stallion unhitched himself from a plow he had refitted the day prior, wiping a bead of sweat with his forehoof. As he raised his head, he could see the freshly plowed field he had spent the afternoon on. That would be number three.

“You doing alright honey?” Meadow asked, the mare coming up to him with a water canteen.

“Couldn’t be better!” Rock smiled, eagerly guzzling down the proffered water. “You already got an idea for what we’ll plant here?”

“I was thinking potatoes…” She tapped a hoof against her muzzle.

Rockhoof made a face.

“Do we have to?”

“I’m sorry Rock…” Meadow apologized. “But I want a crop we can grow in bulk just in case more survivors turn up over winter. I know we’re good and peachy now…”

“… but a herd that gets ready in summer will have some due quiet in winter. I know. I just wish there was some other crop than ‘tatoes.” He sniffed.

“Oh… big burly stallion doesn’t like ‘tatoes?” Meadow joked.

“I don’t, but I can live with it. How many more fields do we need?”

“I think half a dozen more will do. You do the plowin’…”

“Oh I’m very good at plowin’ missus!” Rock waggled his eyebrows.

“Keep it to the bedroom, casahoova.” Meadow rolled her eyes, throwing him a mock punch. “I’ll seed the fields, my garden is good already. Not much I had to change judging by the state I found it in.”

“You can manage with plants around here?”

“I can’t do my better potions, but medicinal stuff is fine…” Meadow shrugged before motioning for him to follow her back to the castle.

The stallion let her walk a few paces ahead, if only to see her rump sway as she walked.

“… and I think I’ll have to scavenge for plants in the forest next time I go inspect the Golden Tree. Some stuff I can grow, but mushrooms and roots I’ll have to look for.”

Rockhoof abruptly stopped in the middle of the road at her last sentence.

“Hold on, next time?!” He exclaimed. “You went there on your own?!”

“It’s nothin’” She waved her hoof dismissively. “I needed a few roots to get Martin back together. Poor fawn was on his last limbs. The tree’s fine by the way, thanks for asking.”

“Of course it’s fine! It’s been days, what’s the worst thing that can happen to a tree in such a short time?”

“A lumberjack.”

He rolled his eyes at that. If there ever was a field where she outmatched him completely, it was verbal wit. Meadow had spent way too much time with Mistmane to be caught flat-hoofed by a barbarian like him.

Shaking his head, the stallion turned his eyes down the road. The countryside around here didn’t allow for long lines of sight, what with the bocage: hedges and bushes separating the fields blocked the castle’s outbuildings from view, their thorny vegetation just as good as any barbed wire…

Personally, he thought they gave the place a homey touch.

On the other hoof, if he bothered to raise his head, he could see the castle’s keep peek above the hedges. The dark shingles that topped the turrets soaked in the afternoon’s sunlight like sponges. In there, Rockhoof knew Meadow had brought their latest rescuee. The fawn was currently bedridden in a room below their own quarters, safe behind a couple meters’ worth of rock walls.

“What about hmm…”

“Martin?” Meadow guessed.

He nodded.

“He was in a bad shape, but give him a few days and he should be able to get up.”

The two ponies quickly arrived back at the farm, Meadowbrook sparing a moment to check out the plants in her garden, before they stopped in front of the small bridge that ran over the moat, connecting the outbuildings to the castle’s gatehouse.

“So what are we gonna do with him anyway?” Rockhoof asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… he probably has parents.”

“Had. In those circumstances, I doubt he’d have popped back into existence with them.”

The larger stallion sighed.

“Did we just become foster parents?”

“I believe we just did, dear.” Meadow threw him a smile.

“Fine then.” He huffed. “But I reserve the right to have him help out on the farm.”

“Frankly, however you raise him is up to you, but personally I’d have him help Meadow instead. Deer like him make good alchemists.” Star-Merlin mused as he popped into existence right in front of them in his equine form.

The appearance was so sudden both ponies reared up on their hind hooves with a whinny. Ghost of a local figure or not, it seemed the unicorn had kept his habit of teleporting around without notice. Much to their annoyance.

“Dammit Star!” Rock cried out. “If we didn’t like you doing that on Equus, what makes you think it’s any better here on Earth?!”

The ghost visibly shrugged, his ethereal form barely visible in broad daylight.

“I was wondering when you’d come back…” Meadowbrook said.

“I did promise to tell you about the local area… and I think now might be an appropriate time to tell you about Earth’s own brand of magic. Or the humans’ at least.” Star-Merlin said before motioning for the two of them to join him by the bridge’s railing.

The mage propped himself up on it, hooves crossed as he looked at the castle’s pinkish reflection in the moat’s waters. The image was almost perfect, only broken up by small ripples every time a fish snatched an insect on the surface.

“So… the magic here can’t be that different from ours. I mean… there is a field like on Equus.” Rock said.

“The field is a novelty.” Star-Merlin explained. “Earth never had a magic field like Equus. Not one that existed on its own at least.”

“But you called yourself ‘the Enchanter’; I’d believe that implies you had access to magic then.” Meadow joined in. “So how did you do magic without a natural field to draw from?”

“That’s because humans produce their own magic. It’s not as strong Equus’ magic, but our bodies evolved to make their own magic at about the same time we developed sapience. Ponies and magical creatures derivate their consciousness and intelligence from the magical field around them. Humans, on the other hoof, we didn’t have such a field to rise from the status of animals to intelligent creatures. So… we evolved it on our own. Funny thing is… by all accounts humans should have lost that peculiarity when they transformed with the Event.”

“I take it they didn’t.” Meadow deadpanned.

“Not at all!” The ghost’s form shimmered at the outburst. “In fact it even improved on the racial templates they were supposed to turn into. They kept the magic production, and now they’re using it to be even more powerful. As hippogriffs and parrots they don’t need magical items to unlock their alternate forms, and all other species basically get a magic boost from that. It’s… fascinating.” He said, stroking his signature beard in wonder.

“Alright… I sort of understood that.” Meadow frowned. “But Broceliande… it’s a convergence point. If they didn’t have a field, then what created their ley lines?”

“Not humans as individuals. On their lonesome they used to be pretty regular magic users, if maybe below a unicorn in raw power. But they shone in groups. You see, human magic has a ‘group clause’ as I would call it.” The mage told her. “Or I guess you could call it ‘faith magic’ too. Thing is, when enough of them group together with a common belief like, say, a religion, then they can passively make that thing a reality.”

“Come again?”

“Let me give you an example: at the peak of their power, humans could have come up with a religion that said there was a spirit that represented the Hearth of the Forest in the shape of a White Stag. Have enough of them believe the same thing and then… you got a magical white stag popping up in the forest.”

“The one we saw the other day?”

“The same stag. It roams more forests than just Broceliande, bloody thing can teleport wherever it feels like. Kinda funny when you got a group of knights chasing after it for a quest…” He chuckled before suddenly taking on a severe look. “That being said, I believe that specificity is what lead to humans ‘losing their magic’ in a fashion. At some point after my uh… death, they started to believe magic wasn’t real. And when enough of them started to believe it…”

“It actually disappeared.”

“Not in one day, but that effect was insidious. Power wise, humans needed less followers believing magic was false than followers believing it was real to undermine the entire thing. And with that in the equation, things snowballed. When the guys believing magic was a thing saw it lose effect, they switched side. And by switching side they made the whole thing even worse.”

“To the point where eventually they evolved to be so alienated to magic it was like a deadly allergy?” Rock tilted his head.

“Unfortunately.” Star nodded. “On the bright side, it wasn’t enough to suppress their sentience. But it did starve all mages, sorcerers, magical artifacts, convergence points and even their divinities of their power. And thus me, who had been sealed away as Merlin, slumbered for a long time.”

Rockhoof stared down at the water with a somber look on his muzzle.

“Buck… To have such power at your hooves and have it taken away because of some dumb thing like that…” He sighed. “Scary. And you mentioned divinities?”

“Indeed, I have.” Star confirmed. “I believe most of the ancient ones might resurface given enough time. If convergence points like the forest managed to use the new magic field to reactivate, then there is no reason to believe they couldn’t. Don’t worry though, that should only affect human divinities that preceded world-spanning religions, so they’ll still be limited in power and area of influence.”

“Thank Faust for small mercies.” Rock grumbled. “Kinda getting the feeling this won’t be the quiet retirement I was hoping for.”

“You’re a Pillar Rock, the only retirement we get is death.”

“You’re a ghost. On this planet at least.” The Earth Pony pointed out.

“Touché.” Star chuckled. “So no retirement then. By the way uh…” The ghost rubbed a hoof against the back of his neck.

“Star…” Meadow grumbled. “What is it this time?”

“There was like… half a dozen survivors in the region. So…”

“You pointed them all in our direction.” Rock scowled.

The ghost just gave an energetic nod, popping away before Meadow could protest at their friend robbing them of some well-deserved quiet.

Turns out, they would need to plow more fields to build up their food stores.

At least with all the rooms in the castle and the outbuildings, they wouldn’t lack boarding anytime soon.

Alej’ hadn’t been slow in going to Fugro to prep the ship for drydocking. The hyacinth macaw now found himself chatting with the offshore vessel’s Chief Engineer inside the engine control room, with both of them looking down at a longitudinal drawing of the ship. The control room wasn’t too different from Amandine’s, if a bit more roomy to accommodate for all the additional auxiliary systems the high-tech vessel was fitted with.

As for the Chief Engineer herself, well… She was a Scot going by the name of Todd McClelland, except the Event had turned her into a pearly white unicorn mare with wavy purple hair that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a high-fantasy setting. That and by pony standards, she was quite the looker, particularly with the bright blue eyes. This all clashed with her demeanor: mane kept back by an oily bandana, sweat-stained coveralls and already quite a few smudges on her pristine coat.

Hell, even Radiant (who had helped him carry his stuff there, the Pegasus now patiently sitting on his haunches in a corner, observing) had been shocked. Fugro’s Chief Engineer was apparently a dead-ringer for a high-society star in Equestria. Alej’ didn’t pry, but apparently she was a rather prissy fashion designer/philanthropist.

Not the kind you’d expect to find in an engine room.

“So how bad is the damage?” The parrot asked.

“Fore and midships are fine, not even any warping damage to the hull.” She explained, drawing a mark on the plan with a pencil.

On the bright side, she had taken to telekinesis like a fish to water.

“All damage starts at span 80. And starting at span 95 we got a couple flooded compartments.”

“Any risk of it getting any worse?”

“Not that I know of. We ballasted on the bow to compensate, so as soon as we dock the water should drain away. Anything left we can pump out. Problem is… several of the flooded compartments contained critical systems we can’t access now. Can’t inspect them for damage either. I know it’s not going to be pretty, but I’d still like to know what we can salvage and what we need to replace.”

Alej’ traced his claws over the drawing, one talon trailing over the room where the secondary switchboards would have been located. A circle in red sharpie pointed it as the location where Amandine’s bulbous bow had perforated Fugro’s hull.

“That can be solved. Hippogriffs can turn into seaponies and breathe underwater. Provided there aren’t too many chemicals and oily residues in there, we could send one to inspect the damage.”

“Or we avoid poisoning your shipmates and just wait until the ship is in the graving dock to inspect it.” Todd replied, throwing him a sharp look. “Thanks for the offer, but our chemicals locker was in the stern section. Too risky.”

“Understood.” Alej’ nodded. “What else?”

A myriad of things actually. Fugro had two cranes on her deck, and whilst the smaller of the two was fine, the larger one (which had a hefty 150tons SWL) was in need of a bearing replacement.

Fugro was also entirely running on her generators at the moment. The collision had destroyed her port engine and severely damaged the starboard engine to the point where it would need a complete overhaul.

“What’s the propulsion layout anyway?”

“Two ducted propellers for main propulsion aft, paired with two bow thrusters, two stern thrusters, and two deployable azimuth thrusters…”

“… I’m sorry but… deployable? Never heard of that.”

“They’re recessed in the hull when in transit. For maneuvers and DP, we can open a hatch midships and near the bulbous bow and extend them out for extra maneuvering capacity. They’re fine. The stern thrusters though…”

“FUBAR?”

“FUBAR” Todd nodded. “As I expect the port propulsion shaft to be.”

“Amandine needs to replace her bow thruster as well, so hopefully we should be able to find matching parts when we look for them. The engine though… that might be hard to find. What’s the brand?” The Spaniard asked whilst taking notes, adding to the ever-increasing list of parts they’d need to locate.

“Rolls Royce Bergen.”

Alejandro winced. Of course, a pristine beauty of a vessel like Fugro would run on an equally fancy engine. But now how the hell were they supposed to replace it? Had it been anything simpler like an MTU or a MAN they might have been able to locate parts in Ireland as a whole but now…

“I’m sorry but…”

“Yeah I expected that reaction.” The mare shook her head. “Closest part manufacturer I know of would be in Norway. But…”

Her horn lit up and a drawer opened on a cabinet on the other side of the room. Out flew a couple folders’ worth of drawings.

“I know there are countless machining shops here around the docklands. We just need to find the raw materials and then…”

“You want to manufacture an engine from scratch.”

“Not from scratch!” She quickly corrected him. “The engine block on those things is basically indestructible, and I’m pretty sure the crankshaft can be salvaged. We won’t even have to gut Fugro to remove the engine. Just… take out all the broken parts -and there are a lot of them-, then manufacture what we need.” Todd explained as she showed several internal drawings of Fugro’s engines.

Technically, that could be done. They had already taken measures to increase Amandine’s manufacturing capability, so as long as the parts weren’t too big, then they should be able to make them. Quality would be inferior to actual parts, but as long as it worked…

Essentially, that left the number of parts they’d actually have to locate to a few: propellers, shafts, and structural steel to fix the hulls for the big stuff. Electrical components and a fuckton of paint for the small stuff. Shouldn’t even be too much trouble, they were moored at a repair yard after all.

“So why do I need to come along again?” Marta asked.

Rhine’s nurse had finally managed to stand on her own legs now that she had been given enough time to recuperate. She still was a bit unsteady on her digitigrade feet, having had little time to get acquainted to walking that way ever since she had been transformed. Being injured most of the time didn’t help.

And as soon as she was cleared to walk, Valentyn had come to snatch her from the new lab on Rhine for a task she was supposedly needed for.

They were heading away from the quays where the ships were moored and towards a cluster of buildings. Beneath her feet, the concrete was cracked by humidity with dozens of weeds and bushes growing around puddles of rainwater that showed no sign of disappearing thanks to the near constant drizzle. On the plus side, hedgefogs had water-repellent fur, so that didn’t even bother her overly much.

“That’s because we need an hedgefog to clear out the pumphouse.” Rhine’s Second Engineer explained, the griffon jabbing a talon in the direction of one particular building closer to the town center than the rest.

It was next to a couple warehouses and didn’t look too different from the rest, if a bit shorter and sturdier. Like most industrial buildings in the area, it rested on bright red brick walls with grey cornerstones. There was a hole in the corrugated steel that made up its roof, along with several cracked windows, but the building otherwise appeared fine. It even had a small sky-blue clock tower that shot above the surrounding buildings, likely to tell the yard’s workers how long they had until the end of their shift.

“Why an hedgefog specifically?” She quirked her head, idly tucking a bang of white quills behind one of her large mobile ears.

The biggest thing she remembered about her abilities was her ‘fog form’ and the flight-over-fight attitude. Not that she’d complain about it: she was a nurse, not a soldier. The only weapon she carried at the moment was a SIG pistol because everyone insisted that she be armed when she left the safety of the ship. Still, she trusted her fog form more, even though ‘cloudwalkers’ could still touch her in that state, hence why she had attached a couple smoke grenades to her belt.

A minimal weight on her hip when compared to the medical satchel slung over her back.

“Have you looked into your electric abilities yet?”

“Not really.” She shook her head. “Mostly fog form, though the electric jig could make for a makeshift defib provided I train for it. That why you need me? A mobile battery?”

“Not exactly. One of Amandine’s cooks, the cat, he was scouting the place when he discovered a twittermite infestation in there. Noped the fuck outta here as soon as he saw the blue glow. Said getting zapped once was enough. I need you to remove the darn bugs so we can access the pumps.”

“Twittermites?”

“Haven’t read the bestiary yet, have you?”

She shook her head.

“Basically bugs that can shoot lightning. You resist electric attacks, that’s why we need you. Simple.”

“Yeah but there are like… three of my species on board.”

“Walter’s busy, and Radoslaw is already on site waiting for you as backup.” The griffon opened the pumphouse’s large wooden door for her. “Plus, that brings a medic to the team. Always a plus in my books.” The Ukrainian concluded.

What greeted her upon entering was a corridor with dusty checkered tiles and cracked ceramic lamps hanging from the ceiling. The only light inside came from the windows, which further highlighted the amount of dust in the air.

The entrance hallway opened up to rows of doors on either side, offices to the left, and workshops that led deeper into the pumping station to the right. Going by the furniture blocking off those doors, that was the section where the twittermite infestation was.

… And going by the ruckus coming from her left, that’s where the others had already gathered.

Nguyen was there, along with Micha. The feline was pointing at a plan of the building they had found and laid down on a desk.

“All the way down near the valve room. That’s where I saw the swarm.” The Vietnamese Abyssinian explained to his superior.

Others from Rhine were there as well. Two centaurs, as well as the other hedgefog who would apparently accompany her down there. Radoslaw. Apparently hedgefogs had a sexual dimorphism similar to minotaurs: females were taller while males were bulkier, as evidenced by Rado’s stature (even though he wasn’t even that strong, being more wiry than actually muscular). Additionally, they had shorter tails and longer quills, which he wore in a mohawk.

“So what’s the plan to get rid of them?” Valentyn asked as he barged inside the office.

To that, Nguyen replied by pointing at a couple CO2 fire extinguishers piled in a corner of the room.

“Frost basically. Last time Angelo’s team met some, they froze them with a fixed firefighting installation. Here it’s only sprinklers, so we need you two to get in close and blast the swarm with these.” Micha said.

“Are you sure we’re actually resistant to electricity?” Marta asked cautiously before she plucked a quill from the tassel of her tail. Quickly, she focused some power in it, the white quill flaring up with electric arc. “’cause I know I can do electric arcs, but I never really tried if I could withstand lightning bolts.”

“But I did.” Rado said. “Shot myself with a taser. It actually felt good.” The other Pole told her confidently.

She quirked an eyebrow at that, dubiously staring down her snout at the other hedgefog. Regardless of how confidently anyone said that, she still would rather err on the side of caution.

… up until she heard a sharp ‘twang’ behind her. She felt a pinprick in the back of her neck, accompanied by a not-too-unpleasant thrumming that reverberated through her fur. Marta closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.

“Was that a taser?” She half-growled, pinching the top of her snout in exasperation.

“It may have been.” Micha chuckled. “Convinced yet?”

Marta plucked the two probes from her fur, staring distastefully at the griffon Officer holding the taser gun.

“You know, I don’t think most people would consider tazing someone to be a viable argument.”

“Was it in your case?” Micha cheekily grinned at her.

The Polish nurse just grumbled, sneakily calling the Officer a suka under her breath. Without a word, she walked over to the fire extinguishers and grabbed one before making her way back towards the workshops.

“Bottom level, you can’t miss it.” Micha chuckled, watching Radoslaw hastily move to follow the grumpy nurse. “Nguyen marked the door with spray paint.”

Marta didn’t acknowledge the remark. With the fire extinguisher tucked under one arm, she went back to the hallway and shoved aside a desk that had been used to block off the workshop side of the building. The door swung outward with a protesting groan from its hinges before she strode inside the room.

The workshop itself was just as dusty as the hallway, with a couple tools left hanging on the walls and next to machines like a couple lathes, drill presses and mills. Most of them had been left there, covered in cobwebs. The aluminum gratings that made up the floor clanked under her booted paws as she made her way through.

There was a switchboard room on one side, but what mattered was the wide double door that led to the pumps proper, next to a utility elevator that would remain out of use until someone went to Kilroot to restart the power station.

The room opened up to what actually took up most of the building: a vast empty space where the ground dropped about two floors, with a railing overlooking it all. Marta glanced down the hole to see the car-sized volute casings of a couple centrifugal pumps, each hooked to equally large electric motors driving the impellers. Above, hanging from the steel beams that held up the roof, was a gantry crane, most likely what had been used to install the pumps there. As deep as the pumps had already been installed, the floor still dipped a couple stories down before merging into a maze of pipes, walkways and utility tunnels.

“That the place?” She asked Rado in Polish.

“Tak.” The other Pole opined. “The bugs are somewhere down there.”

The two of them slid down a ladder and into the hole. From up close, the pump casings were even bigger, their large brass surface making them look like giant snail shells with narrow walkways winding around them. Marta only spared a glance to check if the welder was still following before she moved to where the ground dipped.

The incline stopped after a distance, greeting them with a wall through which all the pipes disappeared. The walkways also passed through, becoming proper tunnels shut off by large steel hatches, one of them bearing the spray paint mark they were looking for.

“Lights on.” She told the other pole as she put on a headlamp, its rubber band uncomfortably squeezing her large ears. “Bet it’s dark in there, and pull the pin on your fire extinguisher.”

“Yeah I know, no need to be bossy.” Rado rolled his eyes.

Or he didn’t. Hard to tell with hedgefogs. Blue eyes on blue sclera.

“Sorry but not sorry.” She grabbed the hatch’s latch. “I just got pulled from the lab and work with Camille, got shot with a taser and then sent off to fight monster bugs with a fire extinguisher. Pardon the mood, jackass.”

“Wasn’t my idea.” He countered.

“You didn’t object either.”

And on that note, she opened the hatch and pushed on into the tunnels.

From a technical viewpoint, the layout of the tunnels was straightforward: they ran in a web underneath the graving dock, linking the pumphouse to the drain wells with the valve room serving as the hub of the network, and also the place where the booster pumps were located. This meant they basically had to go in a straight line down the narrow concrete tunnel before reaching their goal. There should be vents and access shafts linking the system to the surface, though none they could have located immediately to take a shortcut.

At least if Rado’s oxygen detector was to be trusted, the venting system didn’t need power to function.

The tunnels themselves were narrow oval shaped things, with piping running alongside the walkways. Neon lights were attached to the ceiling at regular intervals, obviously dark since the current wasn’t on. Marta could also see some thinner pipes running underneath the walkway. Hydraulics maybe? They’d need that to activate the caisson.

No matter, she was here for the bugs. Walking down to the valve room only took a minute, the two hedgefogs warily scanning the darkness with their headlamps. Down there, the air was stale and humid, with complete darkness only broken up by the beams of their lamps.

It was also eerily silent, save for the repeated clanking of their boots against the floor gratings.

They reached the valve room without crossing path with the bugs.

“So… no bugs?” Rado asked, idly checking out the room and the twisting myriad of pipes and connecting pieces that spanned around the cramped space with a vaulted brick ceiling.

Closed hatches lead to other tunnels in other directions… but last time he checked bugs couldn’t operate heavy duty doors like that. And there was a summoning circle in the middle of the room, so by all logic they should be in there.

“Keep looking, they must be in here somewhere…” Marta replied.

A couple minutes of them scouring the darkness for the bugs flew by… before all of a sudden the room lit up with a blue-white glow. Marta only had enough time to turn her head before a large swarm of the insects unleashed an arc of lightning at them…

…which was promptly absorbed into their quills, filling up the two hedgefogs with electric magic and making them feel as if they had just drunk half a dozen cups of coffee. But it didn’t hurt. At all.

The swarm of electric bugs quickly found itself huddling closer to each other as they found themselves with two fire extinguisher nozzles pointed at them.

“You done goofed.” Marta growled.

Later that day, Aleksei wound up being asked to take her recce team out once more. Into Belfast proper this time, now that the perimeter around the repair yard had been secured. This wasn’t really any trouble to the hippogriff, a nice change of pace from running around Amandine fixing stuff.

The only caveat was… Angelo told her to take her so-called ‘pupil’.

“Do we have to drive around?” Radiant complained from the back seat of the Defender she was currently driving.

“For the last time, yes!” The Latvian behind the wheel squawked. “I still have to pay attention just to keep my altitude when flying, so there is no way I can do recon from the air.”

“Plus, it keeps us out of the rain.” Scarface piped in, the gargoyle sitting in the passenger seat, a map of the city in his lap.

“What he said.” Aleksei nodded.

And she didn’t even take the usual Defender 90 she’d have preferred for a quick recce. Not with both Radiant and Thanasis in the back. They had to take the 130-variant, and she didn’t like it quite as much as the small-and-nippy 90. Way too long a chassis for that.

Through the windshield, the docklands of Belfast flew by, soon replaced by the city proper and its residential districts when they crossed a bridge over the river Lagan. In the distance, they could easily see the angular, ultramodern glass facades of the Titanic Museum, its hulking form like a dark crystal in the dull, drizzly afternoon. Few buildings had been erected directly around it, making it rise like a dark mountain above the cityscape, far taller than the few short warehouses around it.

Further up the river, the cityscape screamed one thing to Aleksei’s mind: Victorian industry. Small and narrow worker-class housing surrounded the city center in stone-throwing range of the docklands and industrial districts. All these tiny -and somewhat decrepit- houses with their identical chimneys perfectly lined up formed a red ring of bricks around downtown Belfast, with the odd pub or church interrupting the monotony at random intervals. Most of the tiny gardens now ran rampant with weeds, lush groves that grew between hillocks of bricks and stones.

Comparatively, the downtown area showed more hints of modernity that clashed against the elegant-but-sturdy stonework of Victorian architecture: a stadium by the river banks, glass-and-steel skyscrapers that eventually fared far worse than the older buildings from abandonment. Some streets had been turned pedestrian too, the usual asphalt replaced by fancy pavement to entice shoppers.

For what it was worth: those same streets were now covered in filth and garbage, likely courtesy of roaming packs of wild dogs looking for an easy snack. The spilled trashcans now lay there, attracting swarms of insects and seagulls.

“Must have been a nice town when humans still lived there.” Radiant commented, gaping in awe at the intricately sculpted orange façade of Belfast’s Merchant Hotel, complete with pillars, statues and an elegant staircase.

“It was.” Aleksei nodded, recalling the ridiculous number of cocktails you could order from the bar at the Merchant Hotel. Not one of her best nights, but definitely entertaining. “Nice port to stop in, folks in pubs were always rather nice to sailors. At least in my experience.”

“Seconded. Guinness ain’t the best, but the barmen around here sure are good.” Scarface nodded wisely.

Unlike the Engineer, he didn’t have the funds to afford fancy bars like the Merchant Hotel. Regular pubs in Sailortown were enough fun as is.

A minute later, the hippogriff behind the wheel found herself pumping the brakes.

“What’s up?” Thanasis inquired from the back.

Aleksei pointed to a row of buildings down a street perpendicular to them. On each of their entrances, someone had sprayed signs. Some doors were crossed out, others had warning signs, and some even had a few bags and pieces of furniture lying out in the street as if someone had taken them out only to decide they didn’t need them.

“Looters?” Scarface guessed.

“I think so…” She muttered. “Those signs remind me of the Walking Dead.”

“The Walking Dead?” Radiant quirked his head.

“A TV series, ask Angelo when we get back…”

“At least that means there are survivors here.” The Pegasus smiled. “Now we just need to find them.”

“And they’re organized enough to comb the city and record it.” Thanasis pointed out.

“Not clever enough to have looted the port yet though.”

“Considering how most people have no fucking clue about the scale of the shipping industry, I’m not surprised.” Aleksei frowned. “Not gonna complain, more for us.”

If Belfast’s survivors didn’t have enough wits about them to figure out how to restart the power station or that the warehouses on the docks might yield more stuff than single houses, well… that was on them.

The recon team kept going down the streets, finding increasingly more looted buildings, as well as signs of presence here and there: stockpiles left hidden in alleyways, barricades blocking off certain streets, and even the carcass of a Manticore left rotting near a shopping hall. The monster’s hulking body was still near its summoning circle, riddled with a dozen high-caliber bullets holes, one of which had been strong enough to rip off its head. Rain had already washed off most of the blood, with only flies and maggot now swarming the carcass, much to Radiant’s disgust.

Near the body, someone had set up a sign on a pole, one the former humans had only seen in pictures before.

Sniper at work.

Aleksei looked down the street the sign was pointing to, a large avenue that led to the town hall.

She did a double-take.

Belfast’s City Hall was at the apex of Victorian architecture: a proud square-shaped building with a central courtyard and intricate decorations. Its beautiful pearly-white stonework and pillars, were surrounded by a lush fence-protected park around it with a couple memorials. It even had four small towers at each corner of the building, as well as a bigger one above the main entrance that dwarfed them all, each of the five topped by patinated copper cupolas.

There was a bit of a hick though…

The outer fence had been covered in a makeshift barricade with barbed wire and rickety watchtowers built at regular intervals to peek over the defenses. All of the lower windows had also been sealed off by planks and sandbags, which were also used to create firing positions at the base of the towers. Belfast’s City Hall was now, for all intents and purposes, a citadel.

She didn’t see any survivors manning the watchtowers, though considering the thin plume of smoke rising above the building, it was lived in. And it had power, as evidenced by the light that streamed out of the upper floors.

What Aleksei did notice, was the pristine flag hanging above the towers.

An Irish flag.

Author's Notes:

If this chapter's title hadn't tipped you off already...

I hope all pieces fit as well as I think they do with this version of human magic. Starting from the notion 'Humans are Orks' _{if you know of 40K}, we got multiple effects stemming from the 'group clause' that both explain differences in magic and mythos by region, while also tying it with the disenchantment mentionned earlier in the story to lead to the situation that made the Event dangerous in the first place.

I mean... it's convoluted I'll admit but it leaves its share of possibilities to exploit. As far as worldbuilding goes, that's exactly what I wanted to lead to.

On a meta level:
Did you know a computer could crash just from running Mic. Word? Mine did, poor thing is on its last legs at this point. I type a sentence and it pops up on screen ten seconds later. Gonna need to replace it._{Seriously, no computer needs half its CPU just to open a spreadsheet, its ridiculous.}

Nothing that should delay writing though. I still got four weeks of buffer chapters in store on an external drive.