Fair Winds and Following Seas- Captain Quest

You... are Fair Winds. Chief Warrent Officer, 5th Grade, of the Equestrian Royal Navy.

And right now you are very, very angry. For a very good reason, because you're the Unicorn who was humping his gear through the seedy shanties and ramshackle shacks, sprawling warehouses, and ship chandlery, (both sea and air), towards the airdocks of Seaddle and EUP Olympia.

High up in the northwest of Equestria, Seaddle was a port town, and EUP Olympia the ‘Last Outpost’ of the Equestrian Border, the furthest flotilla composite base of the Royal Equestrian Navy. Home to several old skiffs and patrol ships, and a few larger combat airships, Seaddle was Equestrian territory, but close enough to the borders of the Griffon Kingdom, Crystal Empire, and Yakyakistan to warrant its existence, and that made it a very, very interesting place to live... if you were crazier then the folks that live in Ponyville maybe.

None of these facts really registered with the you as you trot on the stamped-down dirt road beneath the low, gray clouds to the docks. No, the only thing crossing your mind was how annoying it was to hump three hundred pounds worth of engineering equipment in two separate, standard issue seabags,plusfifty pounds worth of personal gear; some important paperwork, your personally owned engineering equipment, your sword, and some civilian clothing. All told, three hundred and fifty pounds of gear, and it was a ten mile trot from town to the docks. Sure, you have a few tricks with Telekinesis that the Guard teach to help lighten the load, but even with muscles and magic, it was a lot of mass to be moving. And, as usual, not a cab in sight.

Figures.

As of thirty-six... you frown and mentally check the position of the sun. Correction, thirty-SEVEN, hours ago, and a meeting with both Celestia and the Captain of the Guard, you've been ordered to Seaddle to take control of one of the last Battleships of the Airfleet, and the last one in Seaddle- HRMS Risen Glory. (C)

>>29589368
You snort in annoyance as you trudge onward, thoughts drifting through the quiet pasture of your mind; against the sounds vigorously assaulting your ears in the din of an active shipyard. The clamor buried to inaudibility the clip-clopping of your own hooves against the dirt as you trot on, scowling as you think back to the meeting in Canterlot.

“Stupid stupid stupid. Looking at the Princess when she’s asking for you to give up more of your bucking life, I should be hunting those damned soon to be dead motherbucking ponies now.” You grumbled under your breath, stopping to catch his breath and gaze up at your new home, theHRMS Risen Glory.

"What a dump.”

Well, not entirely true.Risen Gloryhad been built in an earlier era. Combat airships nowadays were streamlined differently, almost cylinders with an ogive nose on the bow, to a tapering tailcone aft. Everything between had been given proper fairing, so they weren’t entirely cylindrical, but close enough that it hardly mattered. Most had gun ports, a few entire arcs where the skin would raise or lower, and the gun could be run out from. Engine fairings were teardrop, and the mounts had been enclosed and faired in as well. Planes were also faired in, cruciform in the stern for the rudder and elevators, and all-flying, meaning the entire thing moved. The forward planes were on the centerline a short distance from the nose, and worked just like the elevators did.

They were powerful and efficient weapons, but uninteresting. They all looked like an opened case of sausages in your more then qualified opinion.

Risen Glory was different. Put on the drawing boards before fluid dynamics asserted itself, ponies in Bu Ships had to take clues from other things than plotters and drag coefficients.

They used a shark. A particularly bad-tempered one, before a very brave EUP Guard ran it through the head with a beach umbrella when it went after some foals splashing around in the shoals on the beach.

>>29589399
She was a bit truncated when compared to the fish, but the general shape of the body was held true; the pectoral planes predatory, the dorsal and caudal fins frighteningly familiar. A set of pelvic fins, now elongated into engine pods, two below, two above, one of the very few concessions that didn’t follow the shape of the fish exactly.

The lift envelope was radically constructed, consisting of carefully shaped segments netted into a framework that closely followed the shape of the back. The lateral line was a thin strip, one deck in height, almost a promenade where the small guns and various such, like the wing observation weather decks poked out.
Her real surprise was when the heavies were trained out The entire upper envelope raised upward on large pivot arms, unmasking the guns elevation completely on the beam, and allowing some elevation in the fore and aft. Since the entire thing lifted, there were no struts or chain in the way when the guns slewed in their turrets. She would slow a bit, and raking fire would be hindered some, but before the umbrella raised, she was inordinatelyfastfor her size. If she really needed to elevate to rake targets, there was a set of tens on the upper that could get a full forty-five degrees.

At least she’d been built that way. The hulk you saw floating in her dock looked more like the shark the Guard skewered.

Slowly, oh so slowly, you groan, and a hoof find's itself firmly planted to your face. “Princesses buck me to the Moon and around the Sun!” You cursed, rubbing your forehead with a groan.

Before you is the wreck that's now the ship that -you- need to get back into combat shape. And frankly... you've got your work cut out for you.

As you scan the area, you notice that the gangplank is almost dead ahead of you. Now you could spend some time inspecting the outside of the ship some more, or maybe go up to the Quarterdeck and check in.

At this point it's up to you.

[Thread's open]

>>29589430
Go to the quarterdeck.

>>29589430
Quit this stupid job and become a self employed mechanic

>>29589430
Well if there's nothing else to do...? Might as well offload our gear. What's our role on this boat?

>>29589475
>>29589528
>>29589515
>>29589475
You groan, hanging your head a bit before rolling your shoulders and squaring up, a little snort of steam leaving your muzzle. You might not be in the best mood, but you're a commissioned officer of the REN! At least keep yourself presentable as you make your way to the gangplank.

As you trot, your mind can't help but to roll back to the faithful meeting little over a day and a half ago...
>>>>
[Flashback]
Thirty-Six Hours Prior- Canterlot
The Royal Sister's Palace

“What do you mean, ‘I can’t quit now’!?” Fair barked out, a livid glare on his face. He was a mess, his mane twisted into a messy ponytail from it’s usually tightly woven braid, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed red from a great deal of rum, and the ache of weeping most of last several nights. One hoof scraped the floor in defiance, his frustration visible in every aspect of his body, his tail twitching as a low, steam filled snort left his muzzle and sparks flew from his brightly glowing horn. “You just watch my dock walk outta here…”

“Stand DOWN Chief! That is an ORDER!” the Captain of the Guard barked with the authority granted to him by the other two ponies (if one could call the two immensely powerful Alicorn Princesses in that Throne Room of theirs something as pedestrian as ‘ponies’) in the room. The Captain resolutely swung toward the incensed stallion, halberd at the ready, and in front of both Princesses to protect them. Fair Winds was far too crushed inside to admire the bravery of that. If he had half a mind to, he could simply drag the Captain back and forth across the floor with his horn until he sanded away the Pegasus’ body with his Magic. The Pegasus was also too far into his duty to realize the Alicorns had no such need of his action to protect them.

Celestia could summon the barest wisp of a solar flare and immolate the purple Unicorn into plasma gas instantaneously, for one (C)

Thread theme.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nmGuy0jievs

>>29589554
and for the other, Luna had no need or desire to duplicate Celestia’s drama. Fair Winds could simply go for a moonwalk. It was a lovely 255 degrees in the sunlight. Or if that was too balmy, a nice, cool minus 243 in the shade.

A few moments tensely passed between the two stallions, until Fair slowly pulled himself back, his horn dimming and dying out as he straightened up. Still glaring, he took a few ragged breaths as he released the tension. He felt a little ashamed that he needed to be yelled at…he had been in the military longer then this nursling foal of a Captain, and here he was, being told to regain his composure and bearing in front of the Princesses!

Fair slowly rounded up and faced The Diarchy, the rulers of Equestria. His face blanked and stiffened up as he carefully chose his words. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, your Highnesses, but I’ve faithfully served Equestria for ten years of my life. After the…” his breath caught for a moment, “… ‘events’… that took place these last two weeks…” the swift, biting, sarcasm was almost dripping from his words, the quotation marks very clear to everypony listening, “…I feel that I have the right to turn in my tenure as Chief, and leave service.”

“Your Highnesses.” The last quietly acquiesced bit was added almost as an afterthought, as if Fair suddenly sensed that he was galloping across very thin ice.

Luna stepped forward first, the Princess of Kind Dreams looking upon him with pity. Fair resisted the urge to sneer. He didn’t need pity. “Chief Winds, thou hath done miracles for Equestria, and hath faithfully served Us, and the ponies of this land. We doth understand the loss of your…”

“Luna.” A voice with quiet, ringing authority.

Celestia stepped in for a moment, giving the Moon Princess a minute to compose herself. Whenever Luna became unduly flustered, such as from the painful display just passed, (c)

>>29589578
she still lapsed into Old Equestrian from the stress of it. This moment was good a time as any to relieve the younger Alicorn from the strain and allow her to center herself. Fair had begun bristling again as Luna spoke, feeling more than a bit belittled.

The mare blushed, covering her muzzle for a moment before she spoke up again. “Yes. Pardon me. Chief Winds,” she said a bit calmer than before, “…a stallion of your talent and skill is still very much needed. Also, your Commanding Officer speaks highly of your skill and abilities, and recommended you specifically for greater things. Please, do not throw it all away because of an accident..."

Fair’s left front hoof slammed into the granite tiled floor of the throne room, causing the one right below him to crack, a shard of it digging into his hoof. “IT WASN’T A BUCKING ACCIDENT! It was DELIBERATE!” Fair yelled, tears stinging his eyes again as the rage suffused his body once more. The tears weren't from the shard of granite in the frog of his hoof.

Celestia could only look on in ageless sadness as Fair glared at the Princesses and the Captain, the unicorn’s body slowly relaxing again after his outburst, a ragged breath sounding close to a sob slipping past him for a moment before he was fully in control again. His head rose up as a fresh tear slid down his muzzle and hit the floor.

“… Fair Winds.” Celestia said, stepping forwards, brushing past Princess Luna and the foal of a Captain, carefully sitting so she can be closer to his level as she spoke with him. “I understand.”

(c)
[bare with me friends, I know it's a lot of backstory and set up.]

>>29589595
>[bare with me friends, I know it's a lot of backstory and set up.]
There better be fuckable horses at the end of this I swear to god.

>>29589595
“WHAT MAKES YOU…” he said, his eyes finding hers as he readied another tirade to launch.

Celestia let a moment out. A moment to the Alicorn- centuries to him. A mother and a father, the memory dim with age and heartrending need, blurred, unrecognizable. The closest thing to constancy in her life; Luna- moments before she let loose the Elements of Harmony, and her dear Sister was Banished to The Moon. A thousand years, walking the halls of Canterlot when it was new to the aged stones of now. Always Alone. The heat ofneedandlove, then the icy cold wind of bereavement and the grave as another Consort Passed Beyond, the flicker of her own passion finally dying out from far too many shades in her past. The Mother of All Light- without a foal for her own belly, a child to dote on and to teach, the Unicorns in her school; the tangerine one, filled with rebellion, chafing under her restrictions, hurtling Celestia away even as she fled Celestia’s home. The Bright Promise that followed, as the purple Unicorn twitched and flinched in the Aura of amazing power…and then the day Twilight Sparkle became a Princess; and Celestia wondered to herself if she rewarded her, or condemned Twilight to an existence like her own…

You do…” Fair whispered into the eyes, his own still gazing blankly ahead, stunned from what he experienced. Of course she would. Of course she did. Comparing losses... it doesn't matter, he had lost much, but so did she.

If anyone understood, the Princess that had no family other than a beloved Sister, missing for a thousand years, understood.

“But it changes nothing. I want to end my tenure with the Guard,” he said, finally, grinding out the words as he strained to keep his composure or rather, regain it.

“So you may rush out and get revenge? Throw away your life, your special talent, and everything you’ve worked for in a burst of revenge, justified or not? (c)

>>29589595
This is the kinda stuff that happens with premade characters. Just try to keep the exposition to small bursts if you can. We don't need to know everything at the very beginning.

>>29589627
Well, what about retiring to get into another line of work?

>>29589639
We can't. Supreme ruler decided we were mentally unstable and sent us into gulag

>>29589627
Fair Winds, you are a stallion of upstanding character and grace, despite the unusual challenges you’ve had to face in your life. Stop running away from this new challenge. I understand you’re hurting, but right now, Equestria needs you.” Celestia said, ever calm, unmoving. One thing, one pony, one constant, moving through life as her Sun moved through the sky.

Fair looks up at the Princess, finally moving his head from just glaring a thousand miles in the distance while he was listening to her...
>>>>>>>>

You sigh as you trot up the gangplank, the ladderwells of the superstructure having given you plenty of time to think as you make your way to the top. Shouldn't have looked into her eyes.

Maybe then you actually would have had the willpower to consider retiring into another line of work.

Revenge is a line of work right?

You finish cross the gangplank onto the Quarterdeck from the brow, and saluted the traditional salutes. First, toward the middle, where the Princesses pennant flew on the visible part on the dorsal, gaped between two float gas bags. The bright white and dark blue twin-swallowtail suddenly puffed up in a wan breeze, then hanging limply once more from her stand. The second to the fantail, where the Equestrian Flag of the Two Sisters, the Diarchy, chased each other around the Sun and Moon. The third went to the Officer of the Deck, who stood insolently in the well, behind a small podium, marred with a faded emblem for the boat.

You take an almost instant disliking to the young Ensign, noting the shiny gold bar on his uniform's collar. That aquiline muzzle, the patrician attitude…

Another Canterlot noble’s superfluous offspring. Joy of joys, what a waste of space. (c)

>>29589677
What, this navy doesn't do any sort of thing to show that everyone is gonna be treated equally here?

>>29589677
He was a pretty lame looking ponce at that. Once he discovered that he was the ‘spare’ son in his parent’s latest misaligned mating, attended a military boarding school, an ‘approved’ military finishing school, and once he graduated College, University, or Military Academy, shipped immediately to the ‘ninety-day-wonder’ Officers Candidate School. And now, in a ‘safe’ posting, to earn his spurs and make all the ‘right’ friends, to stroke each other’s egos and careers, earn his spot in Celestia’s greeting line at the Grand Galloping Gala, to get his title and peerage and loaf along on other’s hard work, you have no doubt.

You mightily resisted heaving him over the side. Deadweight was deadweight.

“Warrant Officer Fair Winds, reporting aboard as ordered, sir.” You report, maintaining your salute.

The Ensign sloppily returned the salute. “Oh, you’re the new Head of the Engineering department.” The snotty-nosed Ensign look you up and down. “Do you have an explanation as towhyyou’re reporting on board with your mane and tail like that?”

You'll need to get past the Ensign in order to deliver your orders to someone actually competent, and figure out where your berthing will be so you can stow your gear. Of course, he is technically higher rank then you, so being polite might be a thing, or you could just out snob him with rules and regulations that you memorized before he likely even learned his own name.
(F)
[See OP image for what Fair Winds looks like. Players back in control-]

>>29589677
Actually, I was hoping of something like working to create some kind of video game involving sailing, airships, swashbuckling, and other things that navy people do. Like rum, and cannons, and sodomy

>get halfway through first exposition dump
>scroll down to see what's happening

Oh god

See if you want to engage people you shouldn't,
(C)

>>29589693
(Nope. Naval Tradition is clear- Salute the Colors, then Salute the watch, and announce your presence and request to board.

Also, equal treatment. HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Oh, that's cute.)

>>29589718
over-saturate them with text before any real choices have been made.

>>29589706
Give him your version of the marine copypasta

>>29589706
Considered it more important getting onboard in time instead of stopping to fix my outfit, sir. Circumstances didn't allow me time to do much, as I'm sure you'd understand. Mane and tails take quite a while to do properly, especially if there's no pony around to do them.


How about putting backstory in a pastebin OP? It's quite wordy

>>29589740
(I'm gonna go haze myself. Fuck, why didn't I think of that?)

>>29589721
Just because it doesn't happen doesn't mean it shouldn't. Besides, magic talking horses where friendship is literally magic. You'd think they would put more importance on that no?

>>29589740
Or just writing it into updates as we start doing whatever we were going to do. As it is all I see are two big exposition dumps for a story that hasn't got me interested yet.

>>29589756
You're right, but we're also talking about the military.

The individual doesn't fucking matter, in any way shape or form. In the Navy, it's about the Ship- Don't Give Up The Ship. Period. Because individuals die, but if the Ship does, everypony dies.

Besides, no matter how much importance and emphasis you put on equality, unless every member it morally incorruptible, then someone is going to put themselves on top, in some way shape or form.

Equality, after all, doesn't really matter that much when you can be -more- Equal then anyone else.

>>29589770
(Yeah, that sounds like a much better plan. I'll set up something and shift all the backstory in there, and stick to actual character interaction and the like now.)

>>29589791
>>29589779
>>29589755
Please keep meta-talking to a minimum

>>29589779
Yes it does makes sense, but does it also make sense to apply RL paranoia and caution to mlp? Granted, this might be a darker setting, but there hasn't been enough revealed to be sure.

>>29589677
Lets head on in.
>>29589693
Few navys do.

>>29589706
Health and safety.

>>29589706
>out snob him with rules and regulations that you memorized before he likely even learned his own name
Do this

>>29589827
>>29589833
>>29589740
“Sir, Section Ten, Subsections eight, nine, twelve, and thirteen of EUP Regulations, Book Two, Equestrian Royal Navy Standards, require ponies in hazardous jobs such as Engineering and Deck gangs to restrain the mane and tail to reduce fouling with machinery, deck gear, and other such safety concerns. Such restraint is to present a clean, military look consistent with the uniform standards,” You quote from memory. You've been through all this before, and while you know you're looking a bit more frayed then that, you didn't exactly have time to really tighten up your braids on the way in.

“You look like you should be dating my brother. Are you some sort of coltcuddler, Mister Winds?” The Ensign sneered.

You just barely managed to deaden the twitch of a smile about to burst out on your muzzle. Somehow, you don't think the usual reply to that inevitable question would be well received here. Besides, that usual, “No. Are you, Sir?” might actually apply here.

“No, Sir. Now then, I need to report in." You say, keeping a calm, composed figure in the face of this annoying Ensign.

The Ensign noticed the sword next. “You’ll have to turn that over to me, Mister Winds. Weapons on board go to the Armory and the Weapons Locker to be secured.” The patrician’s face flushed a bit, but at least he didn’t run screaming aft to the fantail upon seeing it.

Foal couldn't handle seeing a weapon apparently. But you guess this idiot just wants to cause trouble or push his weight around.

He's really shoring up your time, and you've got things to do. Maybe a bit more regulation informing, or you could just drop protocol and shove by him? If you dress him down maybe you could get a hold of one of the ships crew to help you move your gear through the P-ways and find a berthing. The possibilities are all there as you contemplate your next action.

>>29589884
>“No, Sir. Now then, I need to report in."
Now then we shouldn't LIE to him. What if h was propositioning us?

>>29589884
S-sir, this is too soon to proposition another sailor for his sword!

Isn't the weapon storage meant to be done by the quartermaster? Just wants to touch our blade, doesn't he?

>>29589955
>S-sir, this is too soon to proposition another sailor for his sword!
Thiiiis

>>29589955
>>29590003
>>29589899
Oooooooooor... you can make it fun.

"Why -sir-! Why would you proposition another sailor for his sword in such a way!" You gasp, covering the front of your muzzle with a hoof, mostly to hide your smirk but also to sell your surprise.

Of course, the horseapples for brains Ensign stumbles over himself. Impressive how he tripped in place like that. "N-now see here! I am an officer of the Equestrian Guard, you can't talk to me like that!"

Your eyes narrow a bit and you put your hoof back on the ground before your horn lights up, opening your saddlebags and pulling one of the documents inside out.

"Read this, sir. I have a chit for it." You say, unrolling the document and settling it in front of the Ensign.

The Officer-On-Duty looked as if he wasn’t going to read it, but suddenly decided he might end up putting a smudge on his perfectly-polished record if he didn’t read the thing first, before relieving you of the sword and having it chucked below into some locker or another, when he freezes up.

And turned an amazing bleached white. Not bad for an almost Day-Glo orange pony.
The order from a superior to grant a pony the authority to keep something in their possession is usually pretty standard. What made this one unusual, and moderately terrifying, was The Who’s that signed it. In fact, the THREE WHO’s.

You chuckle, taking your chit back and putting it away as the Ensign quivers where he's standing, and you look at him with a slight tilt of your head.

“Sir?”
The Ensign stared helplessly.
“Sir? Please, could you point out the location of my billet? I’d like to take this load off, get my tools squared away and secured, and offer my compliments to the Captain, if you don’t mind.”
The zombie’s right hoof raised slowly, pointed abaft down the passageway. The mouth worked around a bit, but no sound came out.

Oh boy, you broke him.

>>29590055
A little snigger escapes you as you look around, and notice the Messenger standing by, looking at you in awe.

The zombie froze, the hoof locking in place.

“Very well, Sir.” You say seriously as you braced up, and saluted. “By your leave, Sir.”

The eyes flicked slightly, but the Ensign didn’t move.

“Thank You, Sir,” You say, keeping the serious tone as you drop the salute and pulled off your saddle mounted seabags. “Mind if I borrow your runner for one of these, Sir? Tight passageways, don’t want to present a safety hazard if I have to move ‘em alone, Sir. I’ll send her right back, okay, Sir?”

His jaw is hanging open and you just wish you could take a picture. A light nudge or a sharp noise would probably make that flank-hole jump off the boat himself!

Maybe you should wait for a response? Meh, it'd probably just be better to grab the other pony and foist off your gear and get settled. You've got too much to do, especially after you just got here, after all.

>>29590055
Lets just go we can appologise for breaking him if he ever pulls his head out his arse.

[Is there a better way to indicate when choice time is open again? I'm honestly just making this up as I go.]

>>29590099
Lets just go no point trying to get through to him.

>>29590105
Nah don't worry about it it happens sometimes.

>>29590105

>>29589718 was talking about dumping so many exposition posts, using (c) and (f) is fine for visual indications.

>>29590103
>>29590111
You smirk as the Ensign continued his impression of a park statue.

“Right away, Sir” You say smoothly as you hoofed off the seabag full of tools to the Seaman Apprentice, now that you glanced at her rank, and started down the P-way that the Ensign pointed you towards.

After a minute of the young Seaman leading you down a few passageways and down a ladder, she piped up.

“Mister Winds, Sir? What’s on that piece of paper you showed the Ensign? That was totally far out, what you did…” she said, twisting around a fellow crewman gracefully in the narrow passage.

“Nothing special. Just the end of his career as he conceived it.” You muse as you look at the SA. She's a year, maybe two younger then you, and a pegasus. Nice mare you suppose, turning your attention back to learning the layout of the P-ways.

“Far Out, Sir. Begging your pardon, sir, but Ensign Dunce-l is an asshole, sir, with all due respect.”

You choke a bit at that before letting out a little laugh. "Dunce-l is his name?" You ask.

"No Sir, it's Dawning Light, but he makes most people call him Ensign DL." The SA drawls as she leads you to a small cabin just outside the ‘goat locker’, the billet where the Senior Chiefs and the Chief of the Boat would be bunked down. Most of the juniors would be forward near the fo’cas’le, in crew quarters, or in various spaces near their watch stations, where they could bear a hoof immediately if needed. Standard operating procedure. Except it seemed there were a lot fewer hooves than a ship this size should have.

That makes you frown a bit before you turn to the dogged down hatch. Something... seems a little off about this hatch. But what? The SA looks at you in confusion as you glare at the hatch.

>>29590099
Wasted enough time with this dumfuk. Lets get to business.

>>29590178
Ask what is different about this hatch.

>>29590178
Manipulate the hatch and get her name.

>>29590178
There better not be monkeys in there

>>29590278
>>29590237
Your horn sparks to life as you open the hatch, inspecting it a little bit more closely as you go. As an engineer, and your cutie mark being what it is, you quickly figure out what's wrong.

The hatch is -too- nice.

It's well crafted, sturdy, and well maintained. It opens without much issue nor complaint from the hatch, and the craftsponyship involved is obviously work done by someone with a Cutie Mark for metalwork.

Not something you'd expect from a ship who's appeared to have her guts torn out.

"What's your name, sailor? Thank you for assisting with my bags." You say, turning your attention back to the SA who carried the tool bag as you put your other bag into the berthing. It's a very small cabin, with a little desk and a stand up locker, and a single double-bed, much better then the hammocks that the Enlisted Chiefs and younger servicemembers used.

Soon you've racked away the gear, stowed the bags while still full for the time being, and tied on your cutlass/wrench. The Seaman’s eyes grew big as she gazed at the weapon, but she stood silent.

“Very Well, Seaman…?”
“Shanty, Sir. Seaman Shanty.” She braced up.
“Stand easy, Shanty, you’ll bust something stiffened up like that if we take weather abeam. Save the bugle oil for the brass hats. Thank you for yo-"

You're cut off as the ship suddenly heeled to port, then rolled back slowly. Before it's even finished rolling you're sprinting out the door, Shanty close behind. You were out the hatchway and sprinting forward with Shanty as one pony, as a loud crash sounded from the starboard side.

Something fell. Something big. (c)

>>29590357
You winced, and then tucked it away. Something big and heavy had come adrift, the way the ship rolled in reaction. Princesses help them if anypony was below when it hit…

You spun on the anti-slip of the weather deck, blasting past the quarterdeck as Shanty pulled up at her watch station near the OOD, who had recovered enough to peer over the rail at the chaos. Again, you resisted the urge to nudge the butterbar over the rail as your hooves thundered on the weather deck.

“Celestia hump me with the Wonderbolts judging…” You breath as you skidded to a stop as the disaster finally registers in your mind.

The panicked shouts of the detail crew trying to pick up the broken pieces of the barrel of the gun, not to mention the rest of the gun laying about on the weather deck, slowly started to penetrate into your skull as you tried to think of pleasant thoughts. You bit the inside of your muzzle for a moment before straightening up and walking toward the mess, thinking about one particularly sparkly crystal pony that had done a fine job of showing you and your friends how to be a leader, that Saturday night so many long years ago.

The working party is in a panic. From a glance, there isn't a single officer or Chief overlooking the herd, and they're gonna need something to snap some since into them and figure out what the hell happened.

You need more information. But you also need to get them under control. Where do you start? (f)

>>29590392
Start by shouting for somebody to tell you what the hell happened.

>>29590449
A little snort as you square your shoulders and move forwards, your hooves making sharp sounds as you go. Idly, your horn sparks up and straightens your uniform and braids, making sure that you have your presence properly set.

You're a Chief Warrent Officer of the bucking Equestrian Royal Navy, and at this point in time? You are in charge.

You get within thirty yards of the panicking herd before you bring a forehoof to your muzzle and let out a shrill, piercing Appleoosa buffalo whistle, getting the herds attention.

“ATTENTION! FORM UP IN FRONT OF ME, LINES OF FOUR, RIGHT THE BUCK NOW! PUT DOWN THE PIECES YOU’VE PICKED UP, WE’LL WORRY ABOUT BALLASTING YOUR SAILBAGS WHEN I BURY YOU AT SEA LATER!!” You roar out, your eyes glinting promises of pain and suffering to anypony who doesn't comply, and the herd scrambles to do just that.

The gang of ponies quickly line up in front of him, dressing but not covering, which earned them a deeper scowl. You quickly counted heads before cursing under your breath. Seven Unis, Four Earths, and Nine Pegs. Not exactly a stellar count of ponies for hoisting up a sixteen inch, fifty-caliber gun barrel.

“Who the buck is in charge of you lot?!” You bark out, stomping a hoof, “I’ve seen a more coordinated effort out of a group of junior high-schoolers at their first orgy!”

“P-present!” One of the Earths called out, raising his hoof. You pointed at the pony and motioned him forwards. The guy was a dark, mustard blond, mottled with brown spots. “Lieutenant Junior Grade Wilko, Chief!”

Now that you could actually see him, you could see the shiny silver bar pinned to his collar, which makes you frown a bit more, thinking to the paperwork in your saddlebags.

“… Wilko? Rodger Wilko? I thought you were a full Lieutenant." You ask, pulling the rolled up paperwork from your saddlebag and inspecting it.

Why wasn't he informed of his promotion? It's backdated to about a week ago as you glance at (c)

>>29590392
Push to the front, get everyone to back off and create some space. Single out pones for help or use magic if necessary for this. Once we're centre of attention, get details.

>>29590661
the papers. You quickly look up at Lt. Wilko and the working party.

He's at least got enough steel in his spine to be standing at attention properly. The rest of the working party looks to be a little undisciplined, starting to shift about, breaking military bearing. You hadn’t told anypony to stand easy. Not a good sign.

A few, awkwardly silent moments passed before you cough into your hoof and stood straight again, looking around. “Lt. Wilko, on me. The rest of you lot, I got three questions. One. Why are you out of uniform? Two. Who here is crane rated, and three, why aren’t you using it?” You said firmly, no longer yelling, just flat and steady, looking for answers.

The scene before you is a literal disaster. Half of the barrel is on the weather deck, and the rest of it is dented and shattered on the docks below. No lifting crane in sight, and worst of all? Every. Single. Pony, outside of Wilko is out of uniform.

“We’re on break ma’am. It’s lunch time. No need for uniforms. We aren’t deploying,” one of the Pegasi said from the back.

Ma'am? MA'AM?

Oh good, at least you can vent your frustrations a bit now... how to properly chastise these foals you wonder. (f)

>>29590713
Ask what made the gun fall.

>>29590765
You snort. “That’s Chief Warrant or ‘Sir’, foal. If you’re confused, look underneath me first, I’ll uncoil the first sixteen feet for you. Call me ‘ma’am’ again, and I’ll snap you in two and toss you overboard. And I’m not going to waste my time listening if the parts hit the pier, or the water.”

The whole herd stiffens up at that, and you continue. “And the crane? Why did the gun fall?"

The crane, or gun-hoist, was more of a backup more then anything else. Unicorns and Pegasi guide and lift the gun barrel into place for mounting, while the crane, a pretty simple pully system, is manned by Earth ponies or others gropos, anchoring the barrel to keep it from falling if one of the Unicorns are knocked either out of position or lose their grip.

Silence as everypony looked at each other. Not looks of conspiracy, either. Confusion.

“So, let me get this straight. This bunch of flybags-" You point at the Pegasi of the group, "with a load. A crucial armament. A sixteen incher, Luna rape me with her horn; one hundred twentyTONS of mass floating around, being lifted on the aura of only seven Unicorns, WITH NO. BUCKING. CRANE?!"

Your glare grew even darker. “Because it was time for chow, it’s hot on the weather deck in uniforms, everypony is in a hurry to get the breechblock trunions greased or something, it takes time to break out the crane and set it, and you prigs shortcut procedure because you didn’t know how it’s done…"

You look up, resisting the urge to groan or whine. “To think that this could happen tome,” You beseech the overhead bag, and the edges of empty sky around the edges.

You snap your head back down, glaring at the group. You've got your answers, and it's not a pretty picture.

Lack of Discipline and maintenance malpractice. No wonder the Risen Glory looks so rough.

With that in mind, you look around.

You're the highest ranking member beyond Lt. Wilko out here.

What now? Where to start?

>>29590877
How fucked is the gun can we fix it?

>>29590892
While you're pondering how to solve some of the bigger problems around you, you glance back to the wreckage, using that intuition and cutie mark focused training to help determine what you could do with the gun.

All things considered, it could be a lot worse. The barrel is snapped, yes, but with the right unicorns and some extra metal, you should be able to meld the pieces back together. It'll take time though, and material that you don't exactly thing the group has on hoof. At this point in time, it's probably better to just leave it as is, and figure out where the rest of the upper chain of command is, and get the working party to get the rest of the pieces of the barrel at least back down to the docks and into storage so you can get a maintenance crew down there to fix it later.

>>29590914
Lets focus on that first have wilko get the gun taken down to the docks and go find the captain.

>>29590877
Get these bums cleaning up. Assess the damage, or find someone to do it. Ask Shanty where the senior officer is and go find out why discipline's shit in this military.

>>29590928
>>29590962
"Lt. Wilko." You say, turning your head. He snaps to attention again. Jeeze, wound on a spring much?

"I'm going to give my introduction, and then I need you to take charge and get the gun to storage. USE THE CRANE. Am I clear?"

"Y-yes sir!" Wilko stutters out, snapping a salute.

You turn to face the formation, and brace up. “Alright…listen up!” You roared out, aware that you're not making the best impression of yourself, but not really caring at this point in time. “I am Chief Warrant Officer Third Fair Winds, the new Head Engineer of this scow! And I’m going to have SOMEPONY’S HEAD mounted on a bucking halberd if I don’t have the current status of everything on this boat on a report sheet either in my hooves or in my aura in the next hour. IWILL HAVEthis ENTIRE CREW in front of me at 1900 for muster, or so help me Celestia, I willpersonallyboil ALL OF YOU into glue and re-seal the seams!! GET THAT BUCKING GUN TO STORAGE! We’ll get to her later; after I run the roster and see how many of you lot have restoration spells good enough to re-make her.IfI have to call REN Bu Ships or a Princess to get her fixed,I will kill all of you!!! Understood?!” You finish, the ponies around you nodding in consternation.

“Which one of you is a Yeoman?” A Pegasi mare raised her hoof. The fact that a YEOMAN was on a maintenance working party was a very, very bad sign, and was added to the pile of evidence that something was very, very wrong on the Risen Glory. You didn't have time to question it at the moment, so filed it away as you pointed your hoof at her. “I need ink, a quill, and four hooves of parchment, on the double. The rest of you pick up the gun and then spread the word and get me that bucking report! DISMISSED!”

The herd scramble, under the orders of Wilko as the pegasi breaks off and heads towards the nearest scuttle to get inside the skin of the ship. You turn and trot back towards the Quarter Deck. (c)

>>29591043
"Seaman Shanty, on me. I need you to take me to the Captain's Quarters. I to speak with him and the Command Master Chief, as well as the Executive Officer." You say, your tone a bit softer now. Your frustration is clear, but at the very least you're not screaming at the Seaman Apprentice.

The young mare looks a little scared but she nods. Ensign Douch-L is gaping at you and seems to have broken out of his dazed state and motions to speak up but a glare silences him immediately.

"I'll take you to the Officer's Messhall, Sir, the CO and XO are ashore." Shanty tells you, making you blink in confusion.

"... Ashore?"

>>>>Thirty Minutes later>>>>

You ponder what Shanty told you, which unfortunately isn't much.

Apparently the Skipper of the boat and the Executive Officer have been ashore for the last few days. They had given a brief annoucment before leaving without another word, which makes you wonder where they galloped off to.

You're sitting in the officers mess, nursing a cup of Coffee. Shanty took off after you got to the Officers Mess about twenty-five minutes ago, searching for the highest-ranked officer she could find, as well as the CMC. You worry your bottom lip for a moment before sighing and taking another sip.

Figures that you'd get dropped into a situation that you really, really have to unfuck.

You frown. You need something besides this coffee to pass the time. Maybe there's something to give you a clue? Or maybe you should make sure you're presentable? You are meeting the chain of command for the first time.
(F)
[Break time, there'll be more soon. Let me know what you want to do]

>>29591095
We better make ourselves look good.

>>29591113
Seconding this.

>>29591095
Be good to start figuring out why we're here and what our goals are. Go through our documentation for some idea of this. If available, consult a layout or something of the ship for key areas of interest. Once this bucket gets sailing we can start breaking hearts and pursuing vengence.

Bump.
C'mon now. None of that.

>>29593206
[sorry, had to finish work]
>>29591113
>>29591823
>>29591824
You sigh and shift out of the chair you were sitting in with a huff. You'd better damn well sure make yourself look presentable at the very least. You barked it out yourself.

You're a Celestia-be-praised Chief Warrent Officer of the ERN. Not quite an Officer, but not an Enlisted service member. Experience and Authority. That means you'd better look your best.

You find the nearest mirror, summoning the documents and paperwork you were given to deliver as you go, undoing the leather thongs holding your mane and tail braids together as you go, letting them spill across your back and hind legs as you start shifting through paper after paper.

Your transfer orders and promotion paperwork, no need to really look over those again, they're pretty worn out at this point from you rereading them anyway. Lt. Wilko's promotion paperwork. You summon an official looking blue folder and carefully slot that paperwork into it so you can present it properly when you see him next.

At this point you've absentmindedly re-braided your tail up to your dock and re-tied the thong around it so that the leather holds it tight, not a hair out of place. Years and years of practice so that you could get away with one thing to keep you slightly different among all the other Engineers with their short-cut tails and buzzed manes.

Another paper shifts in front of your eyes and you scoff a bit at it. Orders from the EUP Royal Guard Captain to speak with the Skipper and XO at their earliest convince and hand over the scroll that was included in the documentation. Well, fat chance of that happening now, seeing as they're currently Absent Without Leave. AWOL incidents are very, very uncommon in the EUP, especially among the ERN. Ponies that want to sail the seas and skies are rare, and those that volunteer to do so usually end up doing so for life.

So what made those two, and most of the brass, run off?

You frown and shake (c)

>>29593377
your head, your mane splaying out behind you and catching the light a bit. You start re-braiding it as well as you shift to the next paper, ignoring the scroll and sending it back to your saddlebags for now.

The next document is -much- more useful. A full scale layout and diagram of HRMS Risen Glory. Perfect.

You quickly scan through it. Due to her unconventional build and for being one of four Battleships in her class built, two of those being sea-based warships, you knew most of this anyway, but a refresher is always nice.

As a true blue air warship, her profile screamed deadly, and her size was to match- from bow to tail, exactly 290 meters, and her Lift Envelope, due to it's segmented construction and unique lifting mechanism to allow for the trailing out of the guns, 330 meters, with a total beam of 36 meters, giving her a wide, stable base to catch lift and to stabilize recoil from her gun batteries.

With a total of seven decks and five levels, six if you counted the gunnery platform for hoof-cannons and pegasi gunners that was on top of the envelope, she had a LOT of compartments, about everything from Deck 5 down and aft of the ship consisting of the Engineering and Power Plant spaces, as well as the Lift gear to keep the bellows and pumps for the envelope flowing smoothly and to work the four main propulsion props and twin rudder props working in proper order.

The upper levels all consisted of the Island that was behind the three gun batteries- each gun battery consisted of three, sixteen inch, fifty-caliber rifled guns, each with auto loaders, that took up a bulk of the spaces that they consisted in. Right below them and in the fo'cas'le is where most of the ships enlisted berthings were, where the Enlisted members slept, while below the Island is where the Officers and Chiefs slept, minus the ten inch, thirty caliber defensive gun battery that was mounted just aft of the Island, which also had the last of the Enlisted Berthings, as that(c)

>>29593466
battery's crew slept there, so that if the ship was called to battlestations they'd be ready.

After all, an enemy in the front of the Risen Glory was in major trouble, but an enemy -behind- the Risen Glory was a creditable threat. They needed to be ready at a moments notice.

A small frown mars your face as you snap the last of the leather thong for you mane into place and bind it tight. You noticed it earlier, but there doesn't seem to be enough ponies for a ship of this size. Crew compliment should be much bigger, even if she wasn't ready to leave dry-dock for a while yet.

You sigh as you put your documents back together and send them to your bag. None of this makes sense, and you're starting to regret not following up on that original statement you made in the Court Room and actually let the Princesses watch your dock march smartly out into the Palace and into Canterlot.

You carefully adjust the silver-and-blue bars that show your rank on your collars before turning around, trotting back to the table you commandeered.

A few moments later, as you take a swig of coffee from the mug, the wooden door to the Officer's Mess swings in and two ponies step inside following a third.

You frown. "Lt. Wilko, why aren't you supervising the working party?" You ask quietly, glancing at the two other ponies before settling your gaze on the brown pony.

He gulps. "W-warrent Winds, I-I-I was taken off the working party by Master Chief and Lt. Commander Time. I-I'm-"

One of the other ponies lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes before she steps forwards. "What Wilko is trying to say is that he's one of the last three officers on this scow, and the second highest rank, barring you, Sir."

That causes you to pause and look at the mare in confusion. Highest rank? What the hell is she talking about? Warrent Officers are higher ranked then Enlisted serviceponies, but they're still considered lower in rank then Officers.
You're confused, if looking immaculate, now what? (F)

>>29593539
The fuck is going on on this ship.

A tip op if your update is more then a post long do not end a post in the middle of a sentence it looks like shit.

>>29593793
In fact ideally you do not even want to end in the middle of a paragraph but that is nowhere near as important.

>>29593793
>>29593807
[Duly noted. Thanks for the tip.]

>>29593539
Could somebody explain to me where all the fucking comand structure on this ship has gone.

>>29593791
>>29593864
You take a slow, deep breath, steeping your hooves for a moment before letting it out.

What the BUCK did Celestia get you into?!

"What do you mean Highest Rank, Master Chief...?" You trail off, obviously waiting for the mare to introduce herself.

"Bellows. Command Master Chief Boisterous Bellows." She was a large, powerfully built dark green coated Pegasus mare with a close shaved mane and a pair of dog tags around her neck,who had probably been in the Guard when you had been in suckle and diapers, if her attitude and slowly graying red mane were anything to go by. "As for what I mean, as of this-" Her wing snaps out and slaps some papers in front of you, "-Is anything to go by, YOU are the highest ranking officer on this tub. Sir."

Message received. CMC Bellows is pissed as hell, and her current attitude is just above happily strangling you with your own hooves.

You raise an eyebrow, looking over at the Lt. Commander, who shakes his head. "Line Doctor, Sir, I have no command authority outside of the medical bay and medical emergency. LCMD Quick Time, at your service Sir."

You turn to CMC Bellows, frowning hard. "CMC Bellows, where is the rest of the Wardroom? Where's the upper brass?"

“Couldn’t say, Sir. I’m no officer.” Bellows offered helpfully, if helpfully came across as, ‘Shit out, tie off, and hang yourself with your own colon. Sir.’

Buck. Well, if that's how she wants to play, you weren't having NONE. “I don’t play engine room snipe games, Chief. You have a brain. Did you just leave it on top of the boiler when you last fired it, or did it come adrift with your charm? Before you answer that, need I remind you; I am also an Engineer, and we keep the Fleet, on the water, and above it. That’s our tradition. “We Keep the Fleet.” You don’t shit me, and I won’t shit you. Do I make myself clear, Chief?”
(c)

>>29593912
The large mare glares at you for a moment before all of the tension melts in a single sigh and she slumps a bit, her wings falling a bit limp before she gestures to the seat across from you.

"Sit. LCMD Time, Wilko, you too." You say, the LCMD and the Lt. taking seats to your left and your right, respectfully.

You summon two more mugs over, looking at your fellow unicorn for a moment he smiles softly and summons over his own personal mug to a nod from you. Coffee just doesn't taste right if you haven't aged the mug correctly.

Hells befall you should you ever wash a coffee drinker's mug.

“So. Let me get this straight. Currently, the highest ranking service member on this bucket, Enlisted or Officer, is me.” You say flatly, looking at the three ponies in front of you.

You glance down at the paperwork and skim it before your eyes bulge and you quickly pour yourself another mug of coffee and take a bracing slug of it before going back to reading it.

'Have given the title and privileges of Captain until completion of the investigation.'

Fuck. Forget cute language swaps and soft words. You need more coffee. Or maybe some hard cider.

"So, SKIPPER." Bellows says, leaning forwards on the table, hooking her mug with a wing after pouring herself a cup and taking a drink of it as well with a scowl. "You're currently the stallion in charge. It seems our reports got to the Princesses and the Commanding Officer of the ERN about a week after you left. Judging by your face, nopony told you?"

You shake your head. She scoffs a bit before all the piss and vinegar drains out of her again. "We don't know what to do Captain. Refits were going so well but the Brass have vanished, along with bits and pieces of critical gear. Our budget is low anyway because a fully functional Battleship isn't a tactical necessity like it used to be, and all the reports and maintenance logs are gone. Someone, something, has seriously mucked with my fucking ship, Sir."
(c)

>>29593934
"You've already made quite the impression on the crew. Wilko, who's finally gotten a bit of a spine after your dressing down apparently, whipped the working party into shape and they got the deck clear and the dock clear of every piece of that gun. It's in storage now." Bellows reports, with a few bobbing, timid nods from Lt. Wilko.

"Y-yes Sir. T-the Yeoman and the rest of Admin are getting the reports ready for you as we speak." Wilko reports, making you sigh.

"Medical has been left untouched, Sir. All of our files and the medical profiles of every crew member are where they're supposed to be. I'm the only Commissioned servicepony on the Glory anyway." LCMD Time reports before sitting back.

You chew your lower lip in thought before taking another swig of your drink.

This is what you have to work with. The Chief's mess, a single Lt. and that snooty good-for-nothin' currently manning the Quarterdeck, and the ship's Doc.

And a Field Promotion to full officer.

What else could possibly go wrong?
(F)

[That's all for me tonight. I have to sleep, no matter how much my muse wishes for me to continue]

>>29593953
i need you to triple check that the medical files really are untouched check every section of every page for every crewman twice.

>>29593986
Yeah the medical stuff being untouched seems like our best clue right now.

musing

>>29593953
So we're in charge. But we don't know why, got no clear orders and no one seems to know anything. We barely have a skeleton crew, we're poor, and critical gear has vanished.
>fucking...
Start with info gathering. Conduct new reports on what's missing and the bare minimum of crewmen needed to get this place running. Ask what these ponies were doing -before- we arrived and send out a request for orders. Unless we're completely fucking isolated, then go rogue.

>>29593953
Since we're limited on personnel, I say it's time we make a proper sailor out of that noble.

>>29593986
>>29594057
>>29595299
>>29595563
You click your teeth with a snort.

Fine. Time to pony up then.

"Doc, I need you to get your personnel together, and skim -every file- in medical." You say slowly, contemplating the papers sitting in front of you.

"All of them, sir?" LCMD Time asks, raising an eyebrow.

"All of them, Commander. I need you to look through every section, of every page. Take as much time as you need, don't rush it so we don't miss anything. Something feels really off about this, and I don't like it." You say calmly, slowly nodding your head.

You turn again. "Lt. Wilko, I need you to be moving among the deckplates- I need those reports yesterday. Do what you can to help the Yeomen out, and make sure to stop by the maintenance departments, as well as by the gun batteries."

Your eyes narrow a bit. "Spread the word. Captain's Call at 1900. All hands. In front of the island. All missing personnel will be reported as AWOL to Shore Patrol."

There's a slight flinch from the three ponies as you mention the military police of the ERN. The Master-At-Arms was a very difficult rate to get in, and those ponies took their jobs very seriously.

You don't mess with a pony that not only carries around firearms, which was already a rare thing, but could beat you around the head and shoulders with the thing without you ever touching them.

Scary ponies, that's for sure.

"What about watch standers, Sir?" Bellow's asks, her voice stopping you cold for a moment before you turn to consider your CMC.

"... Doc, Lieutenant... Dismissed." You say shortly, your eyes locked on CMC Bellows.

The two ponies finish their Coffee, and quickly exit the Mess.

(C)

>>29595679
You frown at the large Pegasus before you sigh, settling in your chair a bit and draining your coffee.

"So, are you always this abrasive, or do you just enjoy being a bitch?" You ask flatly, glaring at CMC Bellows.

Her wings flare and she lets out a warning snort. "Watch yourself colt, you might be in charge but you're a young fool, and a stupid one at that if you think you can say whatever the buck you want."

You snort a bit and pinch your muzzle with a hoof for a moment before you sit forwards.

"Bellows, cut. The. Shit. I don't play Engine Room Snipe games. I don't have any cards in this fucking ship, I don't have any kind of ploy or scheme or whatever the fuck you think I have going on in your head actually going on. I'm here because I was ordered to be here, to take charge of Engineering! I sure as fuck didn't ask the Princesses or the CNO to make me Skipper, and I sure as hell never wanted to be a Captain."

At this point, you've risen out of your chair your hooves planted on the table. "Now. We can do this the easy way, where we talk like the smart, reasonable engineers we are, and don't you tell me otherwise, only a engineer keeps their manes and tails like we do, and you just tell me what's wrong?!"

With that, Bellows took a deep breath, and her shoulders slumped, the proud Pegasus suddenly changing as all the pride slumped like a sack of flower that got deep-six'd over the side of the boat.

“Skipper, it’s been Tartarus around here.” She says flatly, giving you a sad look. "I don't have all the reports, only what I've personally experienced, but I've been spending more time trying to do maintenance then actually handling the personnel reports and maintaining good order and discipline, and that was before the rest of the Brass vanished."

You contemplate that carefully. Bellows is looking pretty out, which is pretty shocking considering her age and rank that's a lot of salt for a single pony, and she must have been a sailor forever.(F

Mercy bump, for every thread gets one

>>29595731
How long has this been going on for?

>>29596561
"... How long?" You ask quietly.

Bellows snorts, steam clearing each nostril. "Four bucking years. Not a single report I've mad has gone through." She grinds out, glaring at the table.

You perk an ear before asking, "Master Chief, forgive me for being a bit forward, but... do I detect the burr of Shetland?" You say, deciding to shift to working with your crew.

Your crew. Huh. That's gonna take some getting used to.

The mare blinks at you in shock, her wings unfurling before she snaps them back into place, hitting you with a little gust of wind. “A-aye. Nae everryponie in me family was a Pegasi. Been workin’ tae machines past two hundred or so, when me Pa gets the eye for me Ma after flyin’ tae weather over Shetland for Cloudsdale. Put his hooves to earth, never went bach tae Cloudsdale. Year later, I comes aroun’. Bit big fer a Shetland, Doctor advises Ma one and done. Ma figures he’d go back tae clouds, but he never did. Dad’s gone now, Shetland’s a rough place fer a flyer, but Ma still be hangin’ on. Folks laugh that tae be a flyer won engineerin’ but the ERN keeps me, almos’ thirty year now. I specialize in Talisman Magic float gas pumps, compressors, transfer gear, ductwork, pipes and recirculation for the envelope.”

Either you shocked her, or you've broken through the shell a bit. Thank Celestia, she's an engineer like you are. You note with a hint of amusement that the moment she starts talking trade, her accent vanishes without a trace.

"Four years? What's been causing hold back for four years?" You asks.

"No' enough crew." Bellows sighs. "Just don't 'av the pony power, and errytime we try to get more, the Skipper veto'd it. I don't know what happened to me reports, but not a single one has made it back."

"You tried to tell others, right? Shore Patrol, messenger station?" You ask, rubbing your muzzle contemplatively.

(c)

>>29596642
"For about the last seven months or so, aye. Didn't notice anything too out of the ordinary till then... when tools and equipment started to go missing." Bellows says flatly.

You tap your hoof before letting out a little groan and planting your head on the table, cursing Celestia under your breath before sitting up.

"I want to do a full inspection. And I guarantee that -my- messages will get through, but I'm not going to send the report till I've gotten all the details." You say, getting out of your chair and summoning your saddlebags.

"In the meantime, I'm going to head to the Captain's Quarters. Maybe I can find something there. Make sure that the ships mustered together at 1900 Bellows. Dismissed."

The tough old mare snaps a hardy salute before she drowns the last of her mug and marches out of the mess. You sigh as you watch her go.

They just don't make sailors how they used to.

You quickly clean up the mugs and coffee pot with some magical application, and make your way out towards the Island.

You've got some serious pondering to do, and a cabin to ransack, unless anything else comes to mind that you'd need to look at or fix.

(F)

>>29596683
So everything was going poorly until she went over the chain of command and brought attention to the strange situation, at which point things started getting worse until the ponies in charge went AWOL. I get the feeling that something bigger is going on.

>>29596683
Lets go through the cabin.

>>29596732
You nod at that thought as you trot on through the P-ways. Though now that you think about it a bit more, you wouldn't classify it as 'going over the Chain of Command' so much as doing her job.

The reports aren't going where it needs to go or action isn't being taken for your problem? Then you need to take it higher till your problem gets solved.

A frown etches it's way across your muzzle as you think a bit more.

There definitely is something bigger going on, which makes inspecting the Captain's Cabin... and possibly the XO's and the other Officer spaces, a top priority.

You pick up the pace a bit, not quite running- no need to kill yourself on a knife edge or a knee-knocker. Airborne ship it may be, but you still need to be water tight in case of emergency landings, so you've still got to deal with ports and hatches as you go on.

P-ways are deserted... and that's a good and a bad thing all the same time.
(F)

[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Tdu4uKSZ3M

Got to work, stay on the roundabout, this is
======TO BE CONTINUED=======>]

>>29596874
Wasn't that tune on jojos bizare adventure I did not realize it was so old.

>>29596802
Lets continue onto the captains cabin and think about what the deserted hallways mean.

>>29596802
Continue to the captains space, but stay vigilant. I'm not quite at the malicious intent stage, but you never know. Keep an ear out too.

>>29597042
[Yep, Jojo's author is a huge fan, and got permission to use that song.]
>>29598019
>>29598422
You've never been happier to have your trusty saber on hoof as you make your way into the Captain's cabin, carefully looking around for any traps or troubles, using your magic to scout ahead.

If somepony left a trap, you'd know.

The quarters themselves are quite nice, making you frown. The rest of the boat has gone to hell, rough trim and looking pretty beat up, but this room?

Immaculate.

And that makes you really, really nervous, scuffing your hoof on the deck a few times before shaking your head.

Deserted hallways means an area that the crew has, most likely, been ordered to not be in.

Which is pretty common, as officers spaces needed to be left clear for officers to move about the boat.

But the actual area, this deserted, during the day, just confirms your fears.

There's no officers on the boat besides you and your temporary commission, the idjit, Wilko, and Doc.

You continue to explore the cabin, being slow and systematic.

You check drawer after drawer, the locker, and then under the matt- helloooo, what's this?

You pull out a manila folder, marked 'confidential'.

Well well. A clue?

>>29598621
Check for traps and than open.

>>29598621
Open it up.

>>29598696
>>29598788
You carefully scan the document for any kind of traps or tricks, and after not finding any, crack the seal and slowly open it up.

Nothing.

Feeling a bit more assured, you look inside before pulling the paperwork within out with your magic and start reading.

The documents aren't... really that useful, if enlightening.

An explanation for how Equestrian 16 inchers work, and how the Risen Glory's gun batteries work.

A layout of the gun batteries, both the three forward three 16' batteries, and the one three 10' inch battery.

Prop designs, how the Talismans that work and pump float gas work, where they're loca-

You freeze, your heart stopping for a moment in realization.

By Celestia, someone collected all of this information and put it in a single folder.

That someone being a somepony.

Maybe the Captain, maybe another Officer.

But all of this information in one place? Could easily be sold to the highest bidder.

The Risen Glory might not be a fully functional warship right now, but she still out tonned and out gunned every other ship in the sky or in the water.

And someone with the plans could build her, to specs.

Or worse. Sabotage the boat.

This just went way beyond your fucking paygrade. This wasn't a case of ponies missing.

This was high treason.

>>29598894
Get in contact with all the admin staff find out if any copys of this were made.

>>29598894
A group looking for information like this hints at imminent hostilities.

>>29598950
I'm trusting the admin less and less. I say keep this quiet until the right moment. We can get Shanty to help us snoop, she's harmless enough.

>>29598894
Store these documents somewhere safe. Someone might be back for them. Maybe we could bait them somehow.

This CYOA isn't turning out like expected at all.

>Still hooked.

[Hey, sorry about there not being an update just yet. I've been called away on some bullshit, so it's gonna be pretty late today when I next update Captain's Quest.

I'll try to get on ASAP]

>>29600819
Yeah I was expecting something more war focused but investigation should be fun to.

>>29600853
I'm not going to say take your foot off the gas, but don't burn yourself out.

>>29600853
Sorry for tipping Kregg on you.

>>29599975

>>29601741
>>29601021
[None needed, and I'm good to go, just expect me to vanish once in a while for long-ish periods (no more then a day) when I'm needed at work]
>>29598950
>>29598992
>>29600765
You bite your lower lip, the urge to bolt or scuff the deck with your hoof again, to charge at whatever threat you can find and annihilate it lancing down your spine.

But at this point in time? There's nothing -TO- fight. No enemy in front of you to turn into ex-being.

And that's frustrating as hell.

You contemplate getting Shanty to help you snoop, but a little frown mars your face.

All of the ship's enlisted personnel are accounted for. The only ponies missing are the Officers, who wouldn't have been setting the documentation together.

As well, this folder, these blueprints? These weren't stored on the ship.

But getting in contact with the Admin... and more importantly, hiding these documents, and maybe setting a little, lets call it a trap, should someone try to sneak in here and pick up these plans?

Well, Luna's not the only pony that doesn't care much for extravagant drama when it comes to solving a problem.

Your horn sparks up a bit brighter as you stow the folder into the inner pocket of your saddlebags, up against your body, and make sure the Velcro -and- the zipper are pulled shut. If someone tried to take them from you, you'd know.

You look around the room. Priorities, priorities. Setting the trap would need to happen now, and it'd need to be something.. subtle. (F)

>>29603265
Perhaps some way of marking the person that comes into this room.

Also, you should post in discussion if you want players to know your running.

>>29603265
Is there a way to record video of the room with magic or tech prefrebly something that will not be detected

>>29603348
>>29603755
[Noted]

You hum, contemplating the trap.

Marking spells are a dime a dozen, and any good mage, especially a military trained mage, would know if they were hit with one, so setting up the door to trigger a marking spell on the being that opened it was out.

No crystal of any kind to put the spell in anyway.

But maybe a more... classic... solution is required.

You delve into your bag and start searching about before pulling out an inkwell.

While you could rig up the old 'bucket over the door' trick, it wouldn't guarantee success, and a tracking spell in the ink had the same problem as just hitting somepony with a tracking spell. It could be detected.

But you could use the dried ink as an alert system. After all, there's only one way in and out of the room that most beings would be able to use. The door.

A little unorthodox, maybe, but at this point in time you can't really think of anything else as you ink up the entirety of the seal of the door.

Maybe if you had a glitterbomb or something like that, you could put a tracking spell on it, but this silent alarm, connected to a spell that'll let you know if the seal's been cracked or not will have to do till you have time to make something more permanent, but you don't really have the equipment to do much else at the moment.

As the ink starts to dry, you weave the alarm spell into it, and let out a quiet breath of relief as you close and lock the door, before letting yourself sit on your haunches.

That spell is magically intensive, and you're no multi-specially battle mage. Engineering, planning, and enacting magical fixes to mechanical problems is your forte, but still, the military's standard spell listing covers a lot of little tips and tricks to keeping a ship secure, or at the very least, alerting a guard to a security breach.

You shake your head. Now what?

>>29604032
Start searching the other officer areas. Also, what time is it?

>>29604048
You hum at the thought of searching the other officer areas. Maybe you'd find more dead-drops like this?

It's a possibility anyway, would probably be worth... your... time?

You blink and check a nearby clock for the time and mutter a swear under your breath.

You arrived at about 1130, and between getting your gear on deck and getting the answers from the ponies on board the Glory, AND doing your little search, it's approaching 1600. You really should go find the Yeoman you yelled at earlier, and the admin department, or catch up with Lt. Wilko and CMC Bellows.

There's also the possibility of stopping by medical and checking the progress of Doc and the other Hospitalmen that run medical and see if there's anything new to report about the conditions of the medical files?

You've got plenty of time, but you should remember to stop by your room and change out of your working uniform and into your dress blues for the all-hooves quarters you called for at 1900.

>>29604138
Lets check on medical first.

>>29604180
[Last update for the next couple of hours minimum]
You nod to yourself. Medical would take priority. Bellows and Wilko are probably still getting that full-ship status report figured out.

You quickly trot to the nearest ladderwell and make your way down to the 2nd deck, and find yourself among the hustle and bustle of several ponies going back and forth.

Some getting their evening meals, which look... well, if not -quality-, at least up to standard for boat Galley food when in port.

You carefully make your way past the Galley line, getting a few 'Hello Sir' and 'Good Afternoon Sir!' and even one 'Good Afternoon, Chief Warrent!' as you make your way past the various ponies.

Just past the Galley and the mess-hall, where the enlisted members actually sat down to eat their meals, was the long P-way that lead to the forward batteries... but just before them was the door that lead to medical.

Medical's front is the emergency triage and sick call station, which was a fairy small treatment room. Just below that was Medical Admin and the long term care/ dental facilities, which had it's own unique ladderwell as the medical facilities were kept mostly separate from the rest of the boat, in order to keep ponies from treating medical like a P-way.

You trot down the ladderwell and open the hatch to medical with a burst of magic as you make your way down, stepping through and closing it behind you as you trot...

Into a madhouse.

Ponies are scrambling -everywhere-, mostly unicorns and earth's but a few pegasi here and there, each one calling out various technical terms and bits of information that catch your ear and you vaguely understand.

You quickly make your way through the storm of voices and start looking for a lab coat, and sure enough, the only lab coat being worn among the regular uniforms is LCMD Time.

"Doc." You say firmly as you trot up to him, dragging his attention away from the file he was studying. "What do you got for me?" (c)

>>29604424
"Ah, Skipper. Good timing. I was just about to come find you myself." The Lt. Commander says as he closes the file he was holding in his magic, carefully slotting it back into the filing shelf and closing/locking it. The file was clearly a patient record, and judging from the color, a new recruit. It had been too clean and unbent to be anything else.

"I have good news, all medical files are untouched, just as I suspected. However, as you can tell by the... little bit of chaos we have going on right now, some of our equipment has, regretfully, been taken." He says, a frown on his face, though his voice is even and calm. You admire his steadfastness in the face of all this chaos.

An old Doctor, and an old Sailor like him wouldn't be phased by the much. The fact that you could even hear some annoyance and frustration from him showed how important some of that equipment was.

"What in particular was stolen?" You ask, frowning.

"About one and a half gallons of Liquid Nitrogen, a full set of scalpels, two dentistry drills, and one of our fire extinguishers." He reports with a huff.

"... Liquid Nitrogen?" You question softly, raising an eyebrow.

Liquid Nitrogen had a lot of uses in engineering, particularly for a airship like this. A cryo separator/compressor in order to facilitate proper burn temperatures for the lift gases for the envelope was a key component, and thankfully Liquid Nitrogen was a side product of manufacturing the lift gases, and as such could be very, very useful, if applied right.

A little smile comes unbidden at the thought. You wish you could just go back to doing your job... you miss working there.

You refocus, looking at the Doc who gives you a flat look. "We use Liquid Nitrogen to skin tags, moles, all sorts of skin crusties. Soak an applicator swab in it for a few seconds, apply against the grunge for a few seconds as well, and it dies back from freezing. Makes ponies very pretty. You know this?" Doc Time questions.

>>29604479
I knew it had some medical applications but not really the specifics.
It sounds almost like somebody is building something but I cannot quite tell what. Just how expensive were those drills?

Once we have finished talking we should check the engine if the liquid nitrogen is for sabotage that is where it could likely do the most damage.

Stolen medical supplys seem to indicate this is more a matter of sabotage then gathering useful resources although the medical stuff does seem to have been taken last.

>>29604969
Also just how much liquid nitrogen does the ship use is 1 1/2 gallons anywhere near enough if somebody was trying to build a copy of this bucket of bolts.

>>29604969
>>29604982
You hum, giving Doc a slightly wry grin. "I went to Fart School Doc, no need to explain to me what Liquid Nitrogen does to ponies." You tease before frowning.

This is sounding more and more like sabotage. Besides, why bother stealing gear from the battleship to make a new battleship, when you could have the battleship itself? No, this is sabotage, out and out.

Besides, 1 1/2 gallons of Liquid nitrogen is a piddly amount- you burn off two times that amount just running the compressors for a half hour.

Of course, you also produce about four gallons for every half hour of running the compressors, but still.

You spend a few more minutes discussing things with Doc, getting a full confirmation that Medical is good to go, before making your way out of medical.

If Engineering and the Power Plant has something wrong with it, you'd be very, very confident in stating it's sabotage and calling for help.

You frown, rubbing your muzzle thoughtfully before letting out a sigh. That conversation with Doc ended up taking a bit longer then you thought, so it's about 1730.

And you still need to get your Dress Blues ready.

>>29606460
Lets hurry and get dressed but I would say it is important we are not late, if we run out of time to dress ourselves fully just do as much as we can without missing the event.

>>29606472
You know you'll be fully dressed by the time you set the All Hooves Quarters for, but you do need to start getting dressed now if you want to look immaculate.

You make your way back to your Quarters, where you had originally left your gear/personal tools, your clothing, and your civvies, before starting to put on your Dress Blues.

Much like the traditional red that most ponies considered to be the 'dress uniform' that they saw Captain Shining Armor wearing during his wedding, the Dress Blue has been a staple of the EUP ERN for almost five centuries now, barely having changed in it's design, beyond slight adjustments to the materials it was made out of.

Now the big questions- Mane up or mane down, and should you wear your cover?

(See reference: US Marines Officer Dress Blues I would have gone with the Navy Officer Blues, then I remembered that there is technically no Marines in this universe, so...)

>>29606565
mane up, wear the hat.

>>29606575
This works.

>>29606575
>>29606582
You take a bit of time to consider all of your options as your float the uniform out before carefully stripping out of your work uniform and setting it on a hanger.

Leaving your mane down would probably give the wrong idea, so it'd be best to pull it up and wear your cover.

With this in mind, you use your magic to coil up your braid and gently tuck, and then pin, it into place under your cover.

There, that shouldn't go anywhere.

You put on the jacket, carefully inspecting your ribbons and metals to ensure they're properly shined and that everything is where it's supposed to be.

After all, uniform standards exist for a reason, even if it sometimes feels like that reason is just one flank-hurt fool trying to get one over on everypony else.

As you fasten the belt, you make sure your sleeves are properly buttoned just above your hooves, and insure everything fits snugly while leaving you with your mobility, bending your legs and trotting a bit.

So far so good, now the last part.

The horseshoes.

You wince a bit, frowning at the silver shoes. Sure they don't get nailed into place anymore, but they're uncomfortable. You don't understand how the princesses can wear these things day in day out.

Should you even bother?

>>29606626
Yes we want to make the best possible first impression put the shoes on.

>>29606626
May as well go all out at least this first time.
Wear the shoes.

>>29606633
>>29606645
You are not crying.

You're a Faust-be-blessed Commissioned Officer of the ERN. The mightiest fleet in the sky and on the water.

You are a powerful mage and a excellent swordsman, and you graduated not only highly in your secondary schooling, but top of your class in military engineering and Gas Cryogenic and Applied Materials School. You are -better- then that.

Which is why it simply must be raining indoors as you put all four of the silver horse shoe/covers on, ignoring how constricted your hooves feel.

Yes. It's simply raining indoors, that's all.

You quickly remove any trace of the indoor rain from your face before giving yourself a top down inspection in the mirror.

Looking sharp. This will make a damn fine first impression, even with the natural highlighting that makes some ponies think you're a mare, your cover casts enough shade over your eyes that it should hide them, or at least obscure them enough that they won't draw attention.

You give yourself a pleased smile before settling into a neutral expression before a knock comes at the hatch to your door.

You quickly hide your saddlebags and gear into your locker and lock it, absentmindedly warding it as you open the door.

Lt. Wilko, also in his blues with his new rank on his collar, is on the other side. "It's 1815, Sir. Master Chief Bellows is currently mustering the Enlisted personnel. Ensign Light is still on watch, so he won't be joining us."

You nod in agreement before letting out a little sigh. "Alright, thank you Lieutenant. I'll be there in thirty."

The earth pony nods before trotting off as you tap your hooves on the deck to get used to the shoes. You've got thirty minutes, any last minute adjustments you should make?

>>29606733
I cannot think of anything.

>>29606733
That should be everything.

>>29606746
>>29606773
You nod in agreement with yourself and straighten up, double-checking your spit n' polish before stepping out of your cabin and making your way back up to the weather deck, carefully standing out of sight as CMC Bellows berates the crew into standing in formation and at parade rest.

It's a bit of a shit show if you're being honest with yourself. The discipline around here needs some serious work, ponies muttering to one another and shifting about in the ranks. The only ponies that actually seem to know what standing at parade rest, in formation, is Lt. Wilko and Lt. Commander Time, who are standing separate from the Enlisted service members, and the Chief's Mess.

E7-E9 make up the Chief ranks, and are a completely separate level of responsibility and authority. Having been one yourself, you can feel their pain and anger as they glare at the rowdy main-body.

Someponies are going to be get chewed out by their LCPO's tonight once all is said and done. You almost feel sorry for them.

If they weren't being a disgrace to the uniform and good order and discipline anyway. You said 'Almost', didn't you?

Finally, it seems they all settled down and you mentally review the time. You've got about ten minutes as Bellows trots over to you, leaving control of the formation to a fellow Master Chief.

"Skipper. The crew is in formation." She says, quickly giving you a once-over before nodding approvingly. "Good call with the shoes sir, that'll make a good impression."

"Anything we need to discuss before you talk to the crew, sir?"

>>29606818
Keep an eye out for anypony trying to leave the ship when I dismiss them.

>>29606849
this