For Lyra—
In a world that sparkled like cider, you showed me the dirt caked on the inside of the mug.
Chapter 1
There are many things in the world one must see in order to believe it. For instance, one
might not believe that you can bowl a perfect game at your local bowling alley, until you do so in front of their very eyes, or that you are able to balance a peanut on your nose and roll it into your mouth and then bark a perfect rendition of the Swedish alphabet like a trained seal, or whistled with your mouth full of crackers, like two of my associates could when they were alive.
Dimensional travel is one such thing. Many people, including Captain Widdershins and Phil, the subjects of this story, do not believe such a thing to exist. However, many people do change their opinions on dimensional travel when they partake in it themselves, which Captain Widdershins and Phil will soon do. I myself have had the wonderful misfortune, a phrase which here means “mixed feelings about being shown the horrible secrets of a place I once thought was innocent”, of dimensional travel. Sadly, it did not work out for me in the end, because at first I thought that being in a land full of talking ponies and unicorns and other various mythological creatures would be a nice change of scenery and a good place to relax from my endless efforts with VFD, but soon only turned out be just as full of treachery as any other place I have been to.
This story is not about me, and indeed, any story about me would be far too long a dreadful to put in any book. This story is about Captain Widdershins, the captain of the submersible The Queequeg, and Phil, the cook of said submersible, and their descent into the crapsaccharine, a word which here means “a place that looks sweet and beautiful to begin with, but then turns out to be more horrible than anyone could ever hope to guess”, world of Equestria.
“Aye!” shouted Captain Widdershins quite loudly, as was his way. He was, predictably, the Queequeg’s captain. “The sugar bowl is almost ours! Aye! The Baudelaires and Fiona will bring back the sugar bowl in no time at all, and we can use it to present at the case back at the Hotel Denouement! Aye!”
“And we can finally put Olaf behind bars!” Phil stated optimistically. Phil was the crew’s cook, and an eternal optimist. “Oh, I’m so very happy about this. And just think, we have Violet’s fifteenth birthday to celebrate when she gets back!”
“Aye, that’s right,” Captain Widdershins said, twirling his mustache around his gloved fingers. Both volunteers on The Queequeg were wearing diving suits with the face of a bearded man emblazoned, a word which here means “beautifully printed”, on the front. This man was Herman Melville, the author of Moby Dick and other highly acclaimed experimental literature, and the members of The Queequeg were very proud to wear his portrait on their uniforms.
“Sunny helped me make some coconut cream cake for the return,” Phil told the captain. “She’s a very good cook.”
“Aye, indeed,” Captain Widdershins said. “She will make a valuable contribution to VFD’s culinary department!”
“How long do you suppose until there are back?” Phil asked his captain.
Captain Widdershins sighed, and glanced at the sonar as a leaky pipe dripped down water from above him. “I don’t know, Cookie,” he said, using his nickname for the cook that was somewhat demeaning, a word which here means “a name that is a bit rude”. “But as long as they are not hesitating, they should be back in no time at all! Remember:” the captain pointed towards a small plaque that was nailed to the side of the wall near them. “He (or she) who hesitates is lost!”
The captain lived by this philosophy, and as one of my close friends in VFD ,has constantly reminded me, it is not a particularly good philosophy. There are instances where one benefits from not hesitating, such as when a train is speeding towards you and you have ample room to jump, or when you are about to be pushed into a vat of boiling chocolate and there is a nice sturdy length of cable nearby to grab onto. However, there are times to hesitate as well, such as when you must decide who is the real villain you must shoot, or when you are about to make a move in a very risky chess game.
Captain Widdershins, however, had not played chess in a long time, nor had he had access to any sort of projectile weapon in equally as long, so he was not troubled by such events. This lead to him continuing to live by his personal philosophy, and him being extremely happy with the outcome it produced.
“Alright, Cookie!” Captain Widdershins called. “By my, and Klaus’s, calculations, the tides should have just deposited them at the end of the conical cavern that is the Gorgonian Grotto, and they should be searching for the sugar bowl as we speak, aye! We need to get ready to celebrate, aye! Cookie, get out the lemon-lime soda so that we can enjoy it with the Baudelaires and Fiona once they return, aye!”
Phil looked rather confused by this. “But Captain Widdershins, shouldn’t we wait until they get back so that the sodas will still be cold?”
“Cookie, that sounds like hesitating! Aye!” the captain remarked loudly. “Remember my personal philosophy! He who hesitates is lost! Or she! Aye! Now, go and get that soda for us to drink once the sugar bowl and the children are back, safe and sound!”
Phil nodded, and obliged, a word which here means “went to go get lemon-lime soda from the fridge, even though he thought it would be more sensible to wait.” Captain Widdershins went back to observing the sonar, and it turned out that his and Klaus’s calculations were indeed correct; there were four tiny dots at the very end of the conical Gorgonian Grotto. However, there was something else on the screen, something that made the Captain frown in thought.
“Cookie!” The captain ordered. “Get in here! There’s something strange on the sonar, aye!”
“But I haven’t gotten the sodas yet!” Phil called back.
“That sounds like hesitation!” The captain called in response. “Remember, he or she or hesitates is lost! That's my personal philosophy, after all.”
Phil limped, as he did due to a shark bite sustained roughly a week before this particular look at the sonar, from the kitchen back to the area where Captain Widdershins was glancing down over the sonar, shaking his head and frowning. “Well, at least the sodas will stay cold,” he said in a cheery voice.
“Aye, you got lucky,” Captain Widdershins agreed. “Now, take a look at this sonar screen! Aye!”
Phil looked down at the green panel, and saw something strange on the sonar approaching The Queequeg from behind. It looked like a very large splotch of light on the sonar screen, gliding across the ocean towards the submersible.
“Well, it isn’t Olaf or the Question Mark, so that’s good!” Phil observed.
“Aye,” Captain Widdershins said with a nod. “But still, we have no idea just exactly what it is, aye. We don’t know if it is friend or foe, aye. We don’t know if it is villain or volunteer, aye! We don’t know what writer’s portrait is on their uniform, if any, aye!”
Phil opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, the patch of light on the sonar stopped, just barely overlapping with The Queequeg. A white, ethereal light filled the small underwater vehicle, and both of the crew members turned to their right to look out of the portholes in which the light was emanating, a word which here means “coming out of”.
It was although a great white light had filled the Gorgonian Grotto, which is a place I can say safely from experience is not a place which receives light very often. Through the murky, green water, light was filtering through, as if someone had placed a tiny sun a few meters away from The Queequeg and its crew. Captain Widdershins and Phil both walked slowly over to the porthole, so they could view whatever it was better.
“Well, it looks friendly enough,” Phil said optimistically.
“Aye, but looks can be deceiving!” Captain Widdershins exclaimed. “Edgar Guest looks like a good poet, but both of us know he is not, aye! There is only one way to know for sure if this thing is villain or volunteer, aye!”
“Send it a volunteer factual dispatch?” Phil asked, pointing towards a nearby telegram which both sent and received letters from volunteers while The Queequeg was still in operation. “USe verse fluctuation declaration?” This time, he pointed down the hall towards a room with many books of poetry in it, and referred to a code VFD often used with poetry to identify members and send secret messages.
“No,” Captain Widdershins said. “Aye. We are going to leave The Queequeg, and go out into the grotto to see if this thing is villain or volunteer for ourselves! Aye!”
“But what about the children?” Phil asked. “They’ll be back any moment with the sugar bowl!”
Captain Widdershins looked back down at the sonar, which still showed the four little dots of the Baudelaires and his step-daughter, Fiona, moving about the very end of the Grotto, presumably looking for the sugar bowl. He then turned to look at Phil, and heaved a sigh.
“Cookie. I have a personal philosophy; he or she who hesitates is lost! And what you’re doing right now sounds an awful lot like hesitating! Aye! So put on your diving helmet, and open the valve, because we are going out and checking that strange thing that is illuminating the grotto! AYE!”
“Right away, sir!” Phil said in a optimistic tone, and he limped away to grab his diving helmet. Captain Widdershins took his own from the table, and glanced at the balloons that were tied to the chairs surrounding the table. There were three of them, each inscribed with a letter; “V”, “F”, and “D”. They were for Violet, the oldest Baudelaire, and they were for her birthday, which was to be celebrated once the children returned. He silently sent out a prayer that he and Phil would be able to return safe and sound for the eldest Baudelaire’s birthday.
“Alright, ready to go, Captain!” Phil announced, his voice slightly muffled and echoed
inside of his diving helmet. Captain Widdershins nodded, and donned his own helmet. With that, the two of them headed towards the main valve, which would let them out into the ocean.
It is at this point in the story that I must inform you that the most pleasant part of the story, baring the part where Captain Widdershins and Phil are introduced to Ponyville, is over. From here on out, the story will be filled with misery and unfortunate. This is your chance to leave this tale behind, and go off to pursue other activities, while still being relatively unscathed.
The cold ocean washed up around the two as they left the submarine, gazing down into the vast whiteness that was the light basking the Gorgonian Grotto with the first illumination it had had in years.
Neither of the two could communicate with each other, but they both knew what had to be done. Very slowly, and very carefully, they swam into the giant fan of light that was being cast all across the conical cavern.
The first thing the two noticed was the sudden lack of coldness about them. They were still in their diving suits, but the temperature had risen to a pleasant level. The second thing that they noticed was that they were no longer in water, although they were still floating. It was as though they were suspended in some sort of large, white aura.
“Hello,” came a pleasant voice.
When someone or something has a pleasant voice, you are typically inclined to like a person. However, it is not until you see how that person or thing that is speaking looks until you can pass further judgment, not to laugh or poke fun of it of course, but to examine it in case you find any visible evidence that the thing speaking is in fact a villain.
However, when the thing that was speaking made itself visible, the two volunteers could not tell if it was a villain. In fact, they were not thinking about whether or not the creature was a villain or volunteer; they were too busy trying to figure out just what it was.
“A pony?” were the first words, which came from Captain Widdershins’s mouth. “That’s what this thing was? A vessel for a talking pony? Aye?”
“Ponies are nice animals,” Phil stated optimistically.
"Aye, but they have no business talking," Captain Widdershins grumbled.
"I didn't realize this was a sad occasion. Also, I’m an alicorn, if you wish to be specific,” the creature said. She was about the height of Captain Widdershins, and had a coat of white. It had two folded wings along its back, complete with white feathers, and a large horn protruded from in between the top of its multicolored mane.
“Well, what were you doing approaching our vessel?” Captain Widdershins asked. “And be you volunteer or villain, aye?”
The being smiled. “I am a volunteer,” she said. “Or at least, back home where I am from, I am. We too have a similar problem with a schisms in nobel, fire-fighting organizations back where I come from. And I approached your vessel because I need the help of two volunteers from this dimension, two volunteers who I presume know where an important artifact to both our dimensions is.”
“Dimensions?” Phil asked the alicorn. “So you’re saying you’re from a different dimension?”
“But of course,” the alicorn responded. “I didn’t think your dimension had any talking equines, so I figured there would be no confusion as to my origins.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Phil said, nodding. “What is your name? I’m Phil, and this is my captain, Captain Widdershins.”
“I am Princess Celestia,” Princess Celestia said, extending a hoof for Phil to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.” She extended a hoof to Captain Widdershins too, once Phil was done shaking hers, but the Captain did not shake the hoof offered to him.
“You said that you needed us to give you the location of an artifact important to both out dimensions, aye,” the Captain said. “What item is that?”
Princess Celestia smiled. “Why, the sugar bowl, of course.”
