“So what do we do?” Rhodes eventually said after doing her best to make sure the two unconscious ponies on the bridge weren’t dying right in front of their eyes. She’d pulled them over to a pile of their discarded clothes by the chart table whilst Gardner did his best trying to figure out what was going on elsewhere on the boat.

And now she was naked on the bridge, the blast of the ventilation softly ruffling the fur coat on her back. A weird feeling.
“First response would be to make sure the reactor is safe.”
“And?” She prodded as she grabbed Martinez’s hat and some discarded socks to wrap around her head wound, doing her best to tighten them without hands.

That concussion was just begging to catch her around the corner and her eyes felt heavy, but she just couldn’t let Gardner face this alone. The whole situation was bad enough already.
“Well at least power’s still running and I’m not getting alarms from there.” The bay pony mumbled through a pen he used to push buttons on a nearby console.
“Did you check the damage control panel?”
“Won’t do shit. Damage’s filled in manually, you need a team on site to report the damage to central if you want it to show up in the system.” He grunted. “And considering I tried to call out and it didn’t do shit either, well then...”
“What if the comms are FUBAR?”
“They could be.” He acknowledged. “Or it could be that nobody’s in any shape to answer on the other end of the line. I’m pretty sure I heard something coming from down the hatchway, so at least someone beside us on this bloody boat is alive an- FUCK THESE DAMN HOOVES” He yelled out in frustration, spitting out his pen after his fifth missed attempt at hitting the right button.
“You alright sir?” Rhodes slowly attempted, head held low.
“Alright? AL-RIGHT?!” He yelled. “Jesus wept Rhodes! I’m a fucking pony, you’re a fucking pony and you lost your dick, we faceplanted a multi-BILLION dollar engine of war and destruction into the seabed just ‘cause we were too fucking busy moping over our sorry asses and now we’re faced with the very real prospect we may have killed most of the crew and doomed the rest to an excruciating death from anywhere to drowning, fire, radiation, or just plain fuckin’ squished by six hundred feet of water pressure. So NO you witless dipshit, I’m not alright!” Gardner ranted.

Rhodes just let him get it out of his system with a roll of her eyes for a couple more minutes before she planted herself in front of him with a flat look. In passing she took note of how he was now actually taller than her. By a lot. Were mares really that small? She couldn’t tell, she’d never been on a ranch.
“Sir, how shall we proceed from now on?”

The frustrated pony stopped dead in his tracks and stared down at his subordinate.
“What?”
“We need to do something, sir.” she stated. “Can’t just sit around expecting the motherfucking Christ will swoop in and pull us out of this shitfest.”
“You’re right…” he sighed. “Thanks, now let’s see what we can do. Get behind planes, let’s see whether or not Georgie here is willing to get up from the seabed,” he ordered, giving her a small tap on the shoulder.

Rhodes blinked for a second, staring at the Lieutenant as he walked over to his station. Now the ranting she could get, that was nothing new, but the smile and tap on the shoulder? Yeeeah, that mare thing was going to get old real quick. She nickered softly before she complied and moved over to her station where the controls for the aft planes were situated.

There were even some blood stains right where her skull had impacted the controls. Neat, now she was leaving souvenirs all over the boat.
“Alright...” She announced as she gave her station a once-over. “Still got steering controls, so Engine Room has not taken over the controls from us yet. No damage to the console, in appearance. Hydraulics look fine. Do I do a rudder test?”
“Negative!” Gardner barked. “Do that now and you’ll just scrape it against the seabed. I’m going to see if we can get off the ground.”
“Emergency blow, sir?”
“Aye.” He replied, moving over to a pair of levers by the ballast controls.

The ‘chicken switch’, as they called it in bubble head parlance, dubbed that way because if anything real bad happened to the sub, they were supposed to pull it and have the submarine surface as fast as possible.

With nobody answering their calls on the sound-powered telephone and a grounded sub? Now was as good a reason as he’d ever get. He hooked the ‘elbows’ of his forehooves (whatever the equine term was) around the levers and paused one last time.

Pulling the switch would dump almost all the compressed air they had stored on board into their ballast tanks, emptying them of all water and changing the sub’s buoyancy so drastically it would catapult them to the surface, or so Gardner hoped. He took a deep breath and heaved.

The levers released with a loud ‘clang!’, the pony falling backwards on his rump with a grunt as the ballast system did its job.

Or at least, it tried to. The hull rumbled and produced a long, drawn-out hissing noise that it definitely wasn’t supposed to as high-pressure air rushed through pipes all over the hull, pushing water out of the vessel’s ballast tanks.

Georgia began to right herself, slowly, too slowly. Gardner and Rhodes watched the depth gauge with bated breath as it slowly climbed upa few feet, a loud grinding noise resonating around the whole boat as debris that had accumulated over the hull after the crash came free and fell off.
“Come on, come on… Please...” Gardner pleaded to the gauge as if it were sentient.

Two seconds later, the hissing noise of air rushing through the pipes stopped, replaced by the grinding noise of strained metal, as if Georgia was screaming in pain. Outside, rips in the outer hull forwardcaused by the crash widened under all that stress, bubbles of precious air rushing out of the gash, wasted. The stern rose, the ballast tanks aft being more intact than forward, but the bow was reluctant to let go of the slope it had impacted.
“Just climb, I beg of you!”

To no avail. The compressed air reserves ran out and they plummeted back down to the seabed with a crash, lurching backwards as they slid further down the continental slope to the sound of what Gardner assumed was the propeller, rudder and aft planes being torn to pieces, settling faster by the stern as the aft ballast tanks were distorted and torn by sliding against the ocean floor, venting precious high-pressure air, air that could not be replaced.

A minute later, they finally came to a halt, once more heeled backwards and to starboard. The depth gauge read 600 feet.
“That’s it, we’re fuckin’ dead.” He groaned.

It was that moment the phone chose to finally come back to life, the digital screen next to the handset lighting up aggressively as it rang.
“It’s the Engine Room, sir. Must be Eng.” Rhodes said.

Vadim was doing a science.

Jokes aside, he was using what free time he had between his morning and afternoon watch to fill in some work for Camille in the infirmary. The hippogriff on Rhine had transmitted him some more details on the extent of the research projects they needed to do for the HPI.

Some of it was just taking MRI and CT scans of post-Event species, and other far more lucrative experiments such as the one he was busy with involved getting the HPI multiple samples of genetic material for delivery once they reached Savannah. ‘Lucrative’ implying in this case that a couple vials of DNA held as much value as an entire propeller shaft according to the HPI’s pricing list.

Hence: Dilip had been very insistent he do everything he could to help Doctor Delacroix get as many of these scientific assignments done as ‘humanly’ (for what the term was worth nowadays) possible.

On the counter, the centrifuge came to a stop with a little ping, revealing half a dozen little vials to the griffon.

“Six down, eighteen to go.” He said to himself, neatly sticking labels on each vial before stowing them in a fridge and grabbing a new batch of blood vials to process

Off to his right, the door opened with a click, letting in Micha.

“Dzien dobry.” He greeted his mate in Polish. “Done with your watch?”

“Yep, not too interesting either.” She told, coming up behind him and giving him a quick nip with her beak. “It’s open ocean, not much going on beyond making sure we’re on the right track and we don’t drift into any ship in the convoy.”

“I’m sure that was riveting.”He drawled.

“You bet. Glad I passed the watch to Greet, felt like I was gonna fall asleep on the bridge for a moment.”

“Now wouldn’t that be surprising coming from you.” He said, carefully injecting an enzyme in each of the next batch of vials before putting a stopper on them and stuffing them in the centrifuge. “And Andy?”

“Playing with her plush toys in her cabin.” Micha said. “Speaking of which...”

“Andy?”

“No, cabins. Captain’s issued a statement after he got a visit from Artyom.”

“Do tell.” He asked as he inserted the new set of vials in the centrifuge.

“First off, we have our own storage space now.”

“Come again?”

“Captain said now everyone has access to either a parking spot or half a twenty-foot container worth of cargo space for stuff they loot when we’re ashore. As long as it’s not threatening the safety of the ship, of course. And then he went off on a tangent about cabins and couples.”

Vadim turned on the machine and swiveled in his stool to face her.

“Cabins and couples?”

“Yeah, he… basically said it might be possible to merge cabins for couples, but only those we’re sure are going to last.”

“Griffons then.”

“Pretty much, unless some folks somehow locate a priest and get married, species with pair-bonding are the only ones he said he’d allow to merge cabins.”

“And if you’re bringing it up now, then that means you want to.”

“Of course!” She practically squawked. “I mean, let’s be realistic, that’s the next step. I already got stuff in your cabin, as you do in mine. So if we could get two adjacent cabins and knock down the wall between them, that’d be pretty neat don’t you think? We could even split up all that space and make an apartment out of it, bedroom for us, bedroom for Andy, office and bathroom. I’m sure the Captain would be fine with that, saves him a cabin.”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea.” He rumbled softly. “I even think I can cash in a few favors with the engineers to get us plans to do that. Not sure we could do it when at sea though, but it shouldn’t be too hard to manage. Think you can just draft a few ideas about it in the meantime?”

“I can.” She nodded. “What are you doing by the way?”

“Just some simple experiments, extracting DNA and all. It’s actually pretty interesting all we’ve already figured out between me, Camille and Lilian.”

“Lilian?” Micha tilted her head.

“Fugro’s doctor, pretty good at barotrauma and diving stuff. Remember the pink dragon, asian-style frills and all?”

“Oh, her. Yeah I see, so what did you figure out?”

Vadim did a face.

“Well, it’s not really me as it’s them who did the thinking. I just did some lab stuff. We’re starting to work out how hormones work on a species-by-species basis.”

“What for?”

“Birth control for one.” He shrugged. “Blood wise we may share similarities with humans, but the molecules in the endocrine system are different. Well, not all of them, we still have insulin and the works. It’s sexual hormones I’m talking about.You could try and take the pill if you wanted, but that wouldn’t do shit. We checked.”

“It doesn’t? Really?”

“It’s not even the same mechanism, so don’t try it.” He warned her. “Eventually a better group than us might be able to make something that prevents a hen from going into heat after unprotected sex, but… it’s one thing to figure out the hormones we have aren’t the same as humans, finding out their exact composition is another thing entirely.”

“That difficult?”

“Absolutely. Might even take years to get to the bottom of this for one species with as little trained personnel as we have, and that’s when you count nurses and medical officers in the lot. In the meantime… condoms still work. Rubbers by the bucket. I hop-”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“It’s open!” Vadim cried out, switching to from Polish to English.

This time it was Boris’ turn to poke his head through the door as the Russian griffon cast a sweeping look around the infirmary. It didn’t take a genius to spot the concerned look on his features or the way he held himself close to the ground as if scared.

Vadim almost switched to Russian before he reminded himself Micha next to him didn’t actually speak the language. English it was then…

“Something the matter, buddy?” He quirked his head.

“I’d say.” Boris replied in a low tone after he checked the hallway behind him and shuffled inside the infirmary.

For a few seconds he looked at Micha as if weighing in whether or not she should know what he was going to say before he finally sat down on his haunches and coughed in his talons.

“I fucked up. Badly.”

Vadim frowned, but didn’t say anything just yet, his tail subtly going to squeeze around Micha’s as the pair remained side by side.

“I… I’m not 100% sure yet, but...” He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “It’s about Anton. She’s in her cabin.”

“She’s injured?”

“No no no!” He quickly said. “She’s… she’s healthy, but the problem with my… mate-” He put extra emphasis on the word. “-is a bit different. If you know what I mean.”

Micha’s eyes went wide in realization. She self-consciously rubbed her thighs together, kneading the floor with her hind legs.

“Ja pierdole.” She swore.

The Lady of the Lake had done her part of the work.

Starswirl took note of it the moment he teleported inside the clearing where the Golden Tree stood; but first he had something else to do. In equine form, the ghost summoned a little notebook into existence, its pages covered in various glyphs and scribbles.

With a flash of his horn, the book began hovering in the air, and runes started flying out and away from it, headed for a couple scanning wards he’d set up around the forest to collect and bring him back data.

A more efficient solution than just wandering through the woods, if less entertaining. Then again he was dead, so exercise wasn’t a necessity.

The book would only need a couple minutes to fill up with the observations and measurements he needed.

Enough time to find out what it was Vivian had done to the tree with Excalibur...

Which actually amounted to thrusting the sword in one of the knots at the tree’s base and letting the Elements’ spirit do the rest of the work.

Classy Vivian, reeeeal classy.

And naturally, the spirit, while not old enough to manifest itself yet, had eagerly accepted the gift of the relic, turning the knot into a proper ‘pedestal’ of sorts where the blade was jammed down to its hilt, with the scabbard laid down neatly perpendicular to it. Some extra roots had then wrapped themselves around the sword, leaking sap so that they formed a protective casing around it in such a way that it looked like the Golden Tree was proudly presenting Excalibur for the whole world to see.

The Elements were starting to change the sword too, at least that’s what Starswirl assumed when he saw how the runes along the blade were starting to reform in a different pattern, along with the handguard beginning to show hints of a more organic texture.

“Wondering who’s going to become the next Arthur?” Someone said behind him in Latin.

“Hello Morgane.”Starswirl didn’t turn away or switch to human form, only hearing the buzz of the fay’s wings as she landed a few steps behind him. “How goes your day?”

“Interestingly. I’m starting to hear about more mages waking up all over the world. My familiars have seldom worked so hard. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Happy to hear more mages survived the magic drought. As for your question...”He paused to cast a look upon Excalibur. “Arthur was unique. You don’t get kids like that twice in history. This time around will be different. Very different.”

“Thrilling.”Morgane sardonically said. “May I ask if my notes helped you with your new lab?”

“They did, very much so.”Starswirl nodded, idly summoning back his magic notebook as it was done collecting data.“I’m still working out some kinks, but planar magic certainly is a field I could stand to develop some more. I already have a lot of ideas I’d like to explore to improve it.”

“Such as?”

“Mild stuff for now. I’m trying to get a grip on how it affects teleportation and whether making a hub inside a different plane instead of the material plane would be more energy efficient. And some wards sprinkled on top. Either way, I should get my first test on that in a couple minutes. Now...”He turned his head ever so slightly towards her. “I believe that parchment in your hand is for me?”

“Correct.” She threw it at him and he deftly caught it in his telekinesis “A research request I’m too busy to take care of, so you can make due on your debt.”

“And what is it about?”

“I need your expertise on the new magic. I’ve been wandering around my cave network and a couple more convergence sites around the region and I found some stones.”

“Mana crystals you mean? Blue gems, radiate magic like no one’s business?”

“So that’s what they’re called...” Morgane wondered aloud, resting her weight on her staff.

“They’re a thing on Equus. Very useful to power up rituals, and though they’re single use they’re better at storing magic than regular gems. In short they’re just naturally condensed clumps of magic you can use at your leisure. I’d wager now they’re not bigger than half a nail.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong.” She countered.

“They’re smaller?”The ghost stroked his beard in wonder.

“Bigger actually. Much bigger.” She told him before she pulled out something from beneath the folds of her robes.

If his ghostly eyes were normal and not just sparks of light they’d have bulged out of his skull the moment he laid his eyes on the fist-sized mana crystal.

“What in Faust’s name is this?!”He exclaimed in surprise. “Crystals like that are worth a king’s ransom, they take decades to form, and it’s only been a few months since the place flooded with magic.”

“I was hoping you could answer that question.” Morgane told him. “I’ve also noticed minerals clumping together in the caves below the Vale of No Return. I knew magic could do that, pure metal clustering in nodules, geodes forming at an increased rate, but that fast? It doesn’t add up.”

“I… I’ll research it. Can I visit the caves sometime later this week? The mana crystals I figure I can do this evening but I’ll need to examine your caves for the rest.”

“Do as you need to, I’m not going to die of old age anytime soon.” She said before giving him the crystal. “Now, I’m expecting my crows to return in a few minutes, so...”

“One last question.”Starswirl raised his hoof.

“Speak your mind.”

“The caves, are they included inside your plane?”

Morgane looked at the sky for a few seconds, long enough for Starswirl to admire the way her hair and wings swayed in the gentle magic breeze that swept the clearing.

“Yes and no...” She finally said after a few seconds. “There is a bit of an overlap and transition sector where the realm merges into the local cave network. Does that matter?”

“With magic? Few things don’t.”He quipped. “Have a nice day, then?”

“Yes, have a nice day.” She gave him a curt nod before lifting up her staff.

With a flash of its gem, the fay lady was gone. Starswirl stood in silence for a few seconds, observing the parchment and the crystal before he shook his head and shoved them in the same pocket dimension he used for his notebook.

“Guess Rock should be getting back from The Forges now, maybe I should go back as well.” He mumbled.

And in a flash of his horn, the ghost was gone, leaving the clearing empty save for the White Stag, a silent observer.

Far away from whatever concerns plagued the minds of survivors, in the middle of the ocean between Trinidad and Barbados, things were taking a turn in favor of the Demons. Or Charybdis specifically in this case. Lightning struck the ocean somewhere over the horizon, briefly shining a light through the storm and over what was happening there.

Up in the sky floated a dirigible, its primitive jet engines keeping it on a steady position, bow poised against the wind as it lowered cables – no, goopish tendrils that pulsated as if alive- into the ocean. Every few minutes or so, they’d release a faint purple pulse and bulge ever so slightly, as if something was traveling down their length to the seabed below.

On the airship’s deck stood a Kirin and a hedgefog. Or Nirik rather. The diminutive equine (at least compared to the minotaur-esque hedgefog by her side) was in her angered form, colors faded to charcoal gray and her body wreathed in purplish magic flames that lit up the deck around her, far too intense for even the rain to extinguish her. She was looking at the waves beneath her with a sneer as more tendrils dug beneath the surface and rummaged around the seabed.

The hedgefog wasn’t a regular member of his species. He was a Legionnaire, formerly part of the Storm King’s caste of rogue, genetically engineered warriors that, back on Equus, had revolted against their creators – the very people they’d been created to protect- and conquered over half of the civilized world in an invasion spurred by their magic albino leader.

And then they’d decided to attack the bloody ponies.

He was far past that time. Even his ship and (part of) his crew – the last memories of that time long gone- had been changed by his pledge of allegiance to Charybdis. For better or for worse the demon had marked them with its goop, rendering them beyond the matters of mortality…

But at what cost? A little voice in the back of his head said. So absorbed they’d been by their attempt at getting a taste of the power they’d held for such a short time under the Storm King that they’d traded everything for it.

Sure, the goop made him powerful beyond imagination but… he didn’t even remember his own name. Sometimes he’d just shuffle around aimlessly in his cabin, not needing food or sleep anymore.

Why was he even doing this?

Oh right, he didn’t have a choice. If he tried to do something for himself, the demon just willed him to stop, like an obedient slave. Charybdis even made him talk the way it wanted, like a helpless little puppet.

His body wasn’t his own anymore, and there was no hope of freedom in sight.

Sometimes, the demon would even take control of his body and turn him towards his own crew, making him stare into their lifeless, vacant eyes. They weren’t intelligent anymore, fully-controlled by the monster that toyed with him.

And worst of all? Charybdis had successfully managed to manipulate other pirate Captains like Spring Gleam beside him using its newly acquired puppet as an envoy. The crazed Kirin had no idea what awaited her in the future when the goop took its hold on her.

He’d tried to tell her. Of course the demon spotted the stray thought before he could voice it and instead forced him to comfort her in her choices.

Tauntingly, Charybdis made him stare at the veins of goop that were slowly starting to snake their way down her back under the kirin’s scales. In the confines of his mind, the Captain screamed.

“Your new ship is almost ready.” He heard himself say.

“About time.” The Nirik sneered. “My crew’s waiting, we have our orders.”

She really had no idea what she was heading into.

The airship jerked slightly as the wreck they were digging up from the seabed finally came loose. All at once, the sea lit up with a sickly purple glow that matched the goop in tone. The waters and roiled as the first hints of a prow surfaced.

In another era, it might have been the pride of a nation, a knife-edge of German steel meant to effortlessly challenge the worst Atlantic could throw and defy naval powerhouses chartered by other empires. It was now far beyond that, its plating orange from all the rust, with barnacles and algae covering its flanks as it emerged from the ocean like a zombie whale coming up for air it didn’t even need anymore.

The bow crashed down with a great splash, now level with the water’s surface, belching seawater and jettisoning sea life out of its broken portholes. The wheelhouse was still standing on the deck, its empty windows towering above the rusty bow guns like vacant eye sockets.

It was an antique, a century-old wreck that dated back to one of the greatest wars Mankind ever waged against itself.

SMS Karlsruhe said the faded lettering on the bow, barely visible behind decades upon decades of decay.

With a grinding noise and the snapping of cables, her stern finally surfaced, completely sheared off the rest of the vessel after a boiler explosion shattered her keel. The goopy tendrils worked their magic on the wreck, weaving a skin-like texture over the broken sections and mending them, making the cruiser whole once more, a horrendous amalgam of corrupted lifeforms, steel and rust.

A living ship.

In the remains of what used to be the engine room, something pulsed, a monstrous heartbeat that sent life flowing through multiple tendrils and arteries. Already, some more flesh-like bits of goop were reaching for the guns, ready to ‘fix’ them.

The airship detached all its tendrils except for one that morphed into the shape of a ladder with a crunch.

“Your vessel is ready.” The Captain said. “You may board it with your crew. Our Lord awaits your visit at the Horn.”

“I can’t fight with that.” She complained as her crew was lining up along the railing to take a look at their new ride.

“That problem is for you to solve.” He crossed his arms. “Board it and go meet with our Lord, I need to fly over to the Pacific now and meet up with Captain Souza.”

For a few seconds Spring Gleam just stood there, glaring up at him as her nirik fire flickered in intensity, strong enough to dry up his coat and char the deck. Eventually though, she relented and trotted over to the ladder.

“Very well then. Tell Charybdis we’ll be late, this thing’s gonna need some proper, non-rusty guns.”

Suddenly she froze up completely, a grimace of pain on her muzzle as her sailors looked over in concern.

The Captain felt a twinge of sympathy in his heart as he witnessed it, the very first hints of panic appearing in the kirin’s eyes as she started to comprehend her predicament.

“You may not call our Lord by its name.” He heard himself say. “You shall respect the boons bestowed upon you, you shall accept them with grace, and, most of all, you shall be present in time when our Lord calls for you. This warning shall not be repeated twice.”

He caught a shift in her stance, signifying the Demon had relented its grip on her body. Whether it was because it deemed the lesson was enough or because it couldn’t maintain its grip that long yet, he didn’t know.

“Go now.” He added, this time out of his own volition. “Time is of the essence.”

Spring Gleam hurried off with her head held low, quickly followed by the rest of her crew. Below them, Karlsruhe’s eldritch engine roared.

A few minutes later, both vessels headed off. The airship powered away on a westerly course with a whine of its jet engines, whilst Karlsruhe headed south for Cape Horn.

Towards Charybdis.

Anton’s cabin was dark, with the curtains drawn over the porthole and all the lights shut when Vadim came in with Boris and Micha trailing behind him. The room was mostly barren, having yet to be decorated since Anton had only recently joined the crew.

Clothes and sheets were strewn about the floor around a seabag near the bed, along with a single journal filled with the chicken scratch that was Cyrillic cursive. Next to that little mess was a bundle of bed covers rising and falling slowly, close to the heater that was set to the highest temperature possible.

“Anton?” Micha hopped over to the bundle with a single beat of her wings, laying a comforting claw on her back. “Don’t worry girl, we’re here for you.”

The bundled sheets mumbled something the two male griffons near the entrance couldn’t hear, with Vadim staring at the display in a mix of dread and wonder. It could have easily been him, if he’d forgotten to use protection with Micha on the day that followed their first mating.

“Boris...” He slowly turned towards the goshawk griffon that looked like he was about ready to run away. “How did that happen?” He asked in Ukrainian.

For what it was worth, him speaking the language wasn’t much of a secret anymore. Not since the rest of the crew learned he was officially mated with Anton.

“I think… I think it was that night at the Merchant Hotel.” Boris glared a hole in the floor. “Look, I… Ok, so maybe we got carried away with all the alcohol and we thought we could just try it out for real for the first time, you know?”

“One time will only trigger estrus.” Vadim calmly pointed out, watching Anton’s mottled snow leopard tail peek out from beneath the covers.

“I know, I know...” Boris replied. “But after that… it’s hard to stop yourself you know?”

“I’m aware.”

“I mean… we’re pair-bonded an-”

Vadim raised his talons to stop him mid-sentence.

“Spare me the details, I’ve experienced it first-claw already. I understand how that can come about. What I don’t understand...” He said that raising his voice so Anton could hear him. “Is why it didn’t tick with you when you didn’t menstruate the day after.”

“I didn’t know!” Anton finally raised her head out of the covers to glare at Vadim through her yellow-orange eyes. “I’ve been female for a few months at best, you think I already wrapped my mind around the fact that I- that I...” She stammered.

“You guys mind switching to English, please?”Micha politely asked, one claw making swirling motion between Anton’s wings to comfort her. “Unlike you lot I don’t understand Ukrainian.”

“She says she wasn’t fully conscious she could bear children.” Vadim frowned.

“Neither was I the first time we did it.”

“I still used protection!” Vadim squawked back.

“You’re our Medical Officer, of course you’d remember to do that. It’s your job to worry about it.” Micha chided him. “Besides, you only did for round two when I ovulated.”

Vadim threw Boris a side glance.

“Technically, someone in this cabin also happens to be my medical assistant.”

“Why, fuck you, sir.”

“Let’s not do that, fucking is what got us here in the first place.” He sniffed. “Now, to be sure… nausea?”

“And dizziness.” Anton slowly nodded. “I… I also feel bloated. Like, I know I’ve been eating a shitton more this past week but it really feels like I’m swelling up like a balloon.”

“… which would make sense since you’ve been heating up to have eggs by the looks of it.” Vadim completed as he sat down on his haunches and rubbed his beak pensively. “Book seems to imply producing the eggs and filling them with enough nutrients for a chick to grow demands a lot of energy. It’s normal you’d eat more than usual, so that checks out.”

“Can’t you give me a test and get it over with so-”

“No.” He made a cutting motion with his talons, interrupting Anton. “Our hormones differ from humans’, so it wouldn’t work, even with a blood test. Symptoms are the only real thing we have to evaluate whether you’re pregnant or not, sorry.”

Anton lowered her head somberly, casting a glance over her belly that was ever-so-slightly starting to grow a bulge. Idly, she massaged it with her talons.

“And a scan?”

“Worth doing, but I don’t think I’d get anything until the eggs form their shells… which at a guess should be sometime next week.” He calmly explained. “Egg-based or pregnancy is, as you know, determined within the first two weeks of gestation. That’s about as long as it’s been since the party hasn’t it?”

Anton numbly nodded.

“That means now you should enter a phase where your body preps the eggs to be laid. Expect to eat a lot more than you already do and to show… well, a hatchling-bulge within a week.”

“That quick? Really?” Micha quirked her head.

“Books said it, not me. Her body ain’t making the baby yet, just putting a yolk and a shell around the fetus before it’s supposed to be laid. What a pregnant woman would eat as extra over a couple months, she’s doing in what? Four weeks?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Is nobody going to question the fact we didn’t even talk about a- about abor-...” Anton stammered, her words making all four griffons’ feathers bristle from their instincts balking at the prospect.

“Vadim?” Micha threw him a look.

“Disregarding primal instincts that would prevent me to even do it in the first place? We don’t have the equipment, we don’t have the know-how, and I don’t have the will to carry out something like that, no offense to you hens.”

“None taken.” Anton and Micha replied simultaneously.

“So what now?” Boris asked him.

“Now? I could go on and check out every single symptom, but we all know how it’s going to pan out.” He sighed. “No lie… it’s not going to be easy. I’ll make sure the kitchen’s aware of your status so you get the food you need, and I’ll give you the handbook on the do’s and don't you should pay attention to. You may have to stop working a little bit while you’re carrying too, can’t risk breaking the eggs while they’re inside you.”

“Is that risky?”

“Very much so.” He nodded. “I’ll go ask in engineering to see if we can spare some parts to make an incubator. Want it or not, but there’s work to be done and you won’t ever be able to incubate them yourself 24/7.”

“And what makes you think we want to incubate them all the time?” Boris said.

Vadim and Micha both gave them a flat look.

“Right… instincts...” Boris rubbed the back of his neck with a weak chuckle. “I’m gonna be a dad… I’m...”

And then he fainted.

“Uh… didn’t see that coming.” Micha looked at the unconscious Russian with a nonplussed look. “Want me to drag him to your bed Anton?”

“Please.” She muttered, numbly stroking her belly.

“Alright, guess after that we’ll leave you two to the, ahem, personal side of this.” Vadim told her. “Just remember, you’re not the only griffon couple on board and our door is always open for advice. We got your back. Just… don’t expect the Captain to be too happy upon hearing this.”

“Does he have to know?”

“I’m afraid he does.” Vadim apologized. “If only so we can start making arrangements for the little ones. We’re probably going to give you and him two adjacent cabins so we can knock out the bulkhead in between and give you enough room. That okay?”

Anton just nodded, joining Boris in bed and draping a loving wing over him as soon as Micha got done lifting the unconscious goshawk griffon.

For what it was worth, she wasn’t even angry at him about the accident.

“Hello world, DJ Jensen here with WSU Radio. Hope you’re all having a fine day, ‘cause I can’t say I do. Call me a landlubber all you want, but boy do these Atlantic swells hit you in the gut. Regardless, I’m afraid Miss Lekan can’t be with us today, we’re on different ships. I’m surprised, girl really managed to land herself a couple fans.” She chuckled, pausing to take a sip from a chamomile infusion.

“But you’re lucky. To compensate for that I managed to invite three, I say: three corespondents on today’s broadcast. So please, welcome Miss Naomi, our lovely sphinx veterinarian holed up somewhere in Kenya with her lions.”

“Hello people!” Naomi cheerfully announced her presence.

“DJ Grizzly, from the colony in Montana.”

“Howdy folks.” A deep rumbling voice greeted with a hint of amusement.

“And finally, a newcomer who just recently contacted me. He’s an adventurer hailing straight from Down Under, a man who’s seen his fair share of country with his trusty road train, please welcome the King of the Outback.”

“Fancy much?” A new voice said, lighter in tone than Grizzly and with a distinct Australian accent. “If you folks were wondering, I’m not some kind of pompous cunt. King’s just me surname.”

“Endear me, I’m just a lil’ Dane setting out on an adventure in the whole wide world. This poor ol’ girl’s gotta dream of wild lands to visit at times, ‘kay?”

“Oh I can tell, ‘stralia’s been pretty wild as of late. I gotta keep movin’ with my whole train ‘cause the wildlife’s been causin’ me some real grief. Gotta thank the skies I got a Sirius and a sat phone to call you, I overheard it while scanning channels as I was doing my roadhouse-hopping jig. CB’s been dead for a while, so that’s a nice change.”

“What did you turn into by the way?”

“Pony, vanilla version. Bitch of a life if you wanna use tools and the desert sure ain’t suited for herbivores I can tell. Could barely swallow that coyote meat the other day.”

“Wait, you actually managed to eat meat? I thought only batponies could stomach that!” She exclaimed.

“It’s… an acquired taste. Need a nose plug fo’ that. Hard to be a lawn muncher in the desert, and I ain’t talking ‘bout no sex.”

“Well, here it is folks. Always something to learn you’d not expect.” Sandra joked. “So how’s Australia?”

“Dangerous. It’s not even about the usual bugs and snakes too. I got all these monsters that keep popping up and they sure ain’t small. Plus I’m pretty sure the Eucalyptus forests east of the country caught fire, so I’ve been mostly hanging out around Perth.”

“Monsters? Nothing new really, just pack a gun and keep a tight eye if you ever see shady people around them. Probably the Four Horses, you know, the demon-worshipping cultists.” DJ Grizzly interjected.

“Yeah, heard that broadcast. By the way, met some intelligent bug people too. Like… beetle ponies. Weird folks, just a buncha hippies from the North so ah didn’t stick around.” King drawled.

“Sounds like changelings. Can’t say we’ve met any ourselves with the fleet, you’re on your own.”

“You don’t fuckin’ say.” King replied, the roll of his eyes almost audible. “Whatev’, ah just had that one request: can you folks send me the blueprints fo’ that oil recycler? Need to keep the truck runnin’.”

“We’ll send you the .pdf through satcom.” Sandra told him. “I’m only asking one thing in return: you do a 180 and try to at least be cordial to the changelings. From the beetle thing you said they sound reformed, hence: safe. We need to know all about them, ‘kay?”

“Will do miss. That all you needed me for?”

“Basically. Now we’re just goi-”

There was a click as King hung up.

“Rude much?” Naomi laughed.

“Truckers be truckers.” Sandra shrugged. “As I was saying: now we’re going to talk some more about how animals are becoming more intelligent. Grizzly’s got some stories about mustangs hanging around ponies and you Naomi?”

“You’re going to love it. One of the lionesses in my pride just gave birth to cubs.” The sphinx let out a small squee. “Oh they’re the cutest lil’ things in the savannah, but there’s more! I think my presence from early-on is influencing them more than the adults, so they feel more intelligent than they should be. Oddly enough, they seem more expressive to.”

Sandra resettled herself in her seat and cradled her tea mug between her webbed wings. This was going to be interesting.

Author's Notes:

There we go, while the servants of Scylla are pissing off ancient blood gods, Charybdis' are raising wrecks and making eldritch zombie ships..._{Don't think I've seen much of those in fiction.}

For the record, the Karlsruhe that's referred to is the one built in 1912. There was a replacement built in 1916 that the Germans scuttled in the Scapa Flow after the war, and another (a Konigsberg-class) that was built in the 1930's and that was scuttled off Norway too.

Plus two post-war frigates that served one after another... Jeez, talk about struggling to come up with fresh names.

On another note, I want to thank Alden MacManx for his help in making the submarine arc possible. God knows it would have been wildly different without his technical expertise. He's got a similar story of his own, though the submariners fare quite a bit better in his.